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lesbian-dp · 2 years ago

Text

Thigh Mega Tampon

Kinktober 2022

Day Sixteen

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 1,954

Warnings: Drunk sex, dirty dancing, one night stand, strangers, outdoor sex, table sex, almost getting caught, shotgunning, underage drinking, smoking weed (duh), clumsy sex, spit, packing ruined orgasm

Request: No.

Summary: You thought the party was a bust... until it ended.

A/N: This one was kinda hard to do, ngl.

Ko-Fi

Commissions

(Not my pics)

18+ ONLY

---

"Whoo! Kappa Beta Gamma, forever!"

You cringed at the drunken scream of the large, blonde man. Watching as the cheap beer sloshed out of his red cup, splashing across the floor and soaking into his white shirt.

"God, I can't believe I'm here."

A chuckle from your side, "You were the one who suggested coming to this thing."

"Yeah, because I wanted to find someone to hook up with. Not to be surrounded by drunken frat boys."

"Gee, thanks," Wanda sassed humouredly.

You scoffed at the brunette, "Don't act like you're not here for the same thing."

"Only if I find someone who takes my interest," Wanda tried, raising her nose into the air, peering away from you.

The chuckle that bubbled from your chest couldn't be controlled, shaking your head at your friend. Before you followed her line of sight, only to find a college student drinking and conversing with his friends.

"Ah, seems you've already found someone already," you noted with a nod, "You really are picky, aren't you, Wands?"

Your reply was a swift jab into your ribs with her elbow, huffing as you watched her walk away towards the blonde man.

"And then there was one."

With a sigh, and your hands on your hips, you surveyed the bouncing frat house. Spotting partygoers dancing, playing beer pong, practically having sex in every corner, pounding drinks and shots in the kitchen. And some, even taking their escapades up the staircase, heading towards the many bedrooms.

Deciding you needed a drink to get through this, you made your way into the kitchen filled with bottles of liquor lining the counters.

"You wanna pour me one of those too?" a husky voice came from behind you, making your brows raize and peer over your shoulder.

With that one look, you already had your sights set on her. Hoping to take her home later that night.

With her fiery red hair, piercing green eyes, and full lips.

What could you say? You were a sucker for a pretty girl.

You raised the vodka for her to see, lightly shaking it side-to-side. You asked, "You want it mixed with anything?"

"No."

Your eyes glanced the girl up and down, evaluating if she could take straight vodka or not, especially with her short size. Which she picked up on. Easily. Ticking a brow at you, daring you to speak your judgements.

"You sure?"

"I'm Russian," she replied with a hand on her hip, "I can handle straight vodka. I was drinking it while you were still drinking apple juice."

"Your poor liver," you said dryly, pouring some vodka into a red cup before handing it off to her.

The red-head shrugged, slowly drawing the alcohol to her lips as she spoke, "It mainly just gave me a high tolerance." She then threw you a wink. "See you later, sugar."

You licked your lips as you watched her walk from the room, heading straight to where college students were dancing close together, and the bass-filled dance music shook the room.

Almost as if she could feel your eyes on her, she looked over her shoulder, sending you a smirk, before she quickly moved to dance with her friends.

With that look in her eye and the smirk pulling against her lips, you gathered that she was interested in you too.

Hours dwindled by, and you proceeded to get drunker and drunker. A buzzing filled your body, along with a clouded mind.

You had found your way back to the red-head, who you had poured a drink for, hands pressed to each other's bodies as you danced close together, drink in hand, further inhibiting your senses, as the woman only intoxicated you further.

The bouncing music could be felt in your bones, her chest pressed against yours, arms thrown over your shoulders, drink hanging loosely at your back, her free hand threaded into your hair.

No words had to be spoken between the two of you. Like magnets drawn to one another, you were slowly pulled towards the red-heads lips.

Sadly, her friends pulled her away before your lips ever met hers, dragging her away to talk to a group of guys while she peered over her shoulder towards you, lips formed into a frown, silently apologising to you.

You couldn't believe how hard you were getting cockblocked.

With a shake of your head, you decided to refill your drink, hoping to quench your thirst for the red-head with more alcohol.

Hours later, the party was dwindling down in the early morning hours.

You hadn't seen the captivating woman you had hoped to take home that night since her friends had stolen her away from you.

Wanda had gone back to the blonde's apartment, wishing you luck on your own escapades.

The air was chilly, and the sky dark. A light breeze, cutting through those outside, you being one of them. Dressed in only a T-shirt and jeans, you were able to withstand the cold biting air. Blowing out puffs of sweet, earthy-smelling smoke, looking like fog surrounding the darkened trees, before disappearing.

"You're still here?" It was more of a statement than a question.

Looking up and to the side, you found Natasha watching you with a small smile on her face.

Throwing her one back, you asked, "And so are you. Should I be worried that your friends will come by and sweep you away again?" you finished, taking another drag of your joint.

"No." The red-head chuckled, shaking her head as she moved to sit down beside you. "They've all gone home or to guys' places."

"And they left you all alone."

"You're alone, too."

"Touche," you chuckled, "Why'd they drag you off anyway?"

"They were trying to set me up with a guy who's had a crush on me for years."

"And you don't like him back?"

"He's not my type."

With the way the red-head looked at you, it felt like her green eyes were staring deep into your soul, warming you up in the cold night. Her shoulder leaned into yours, telling you all that you needed to know.

Sending her a smile, you offered her the joint.

"I've never smoked weed before," she uttered almost bashfully.

"But you've been drinking vodka for how long?" you joked.

She rolled her eyes, "Shut up."

"Come 'ere." You motioned her towards you, gesturing for her to turn towards you. Pulling the joint from your lips, taking another drag. "Open your mouth."

When she did, you held onto her jaw, pulling her closer to you so that her lips brushed against yours. Automatically, she inhaled the smoke you blew out for her, pupils blowing wide with how intimate and seductive the action was.

"Will that even work?" she asked, blinking heavily.

"How about I keep doing it, and we can see?"

The red-head solidified your suggestion with the kiss that you were both desperate for on the makeshift dancefloor, tasting the weed on your lips, more so on your tongue.

She wasn't high, not really, but she was drunk. Not so much that she was swaying and wouldn't be able to remember anything the next day. You were in the same position, only with the added fuzziness that the marijuana had given you.

The partygoers had been playing beer pong outside hours before, when the part was still buzzing, and there weren't people passed out around the large frat house. The only people awake and still present were the ones busy cleaning up some, and the two pressed against the beer pong table around the scattered plastic cups on the ground.

The red-head panted against your lips as you pressed her into the table, her legs wrapped around your waist, holding you close as you rutted into her. Shirt pushed up, bundled just under her full breasts. The hot, taught skin of her abdomen reviling in the cold air.

You peppered kisses down the side of her neck, humming into her skin, sending vibrations through her body. Causing her back to arch, pushing her chest into you, hips grinding into you further.

"You're so fucking hot," you spoke into her neck, "The minute I saw you, I knew that I wanted you." A heavy kiss to her full lips. "You're fuckin' captivating."

"I felt the exact same way," she uttered, holding your cheeks between her palms, pulling your lips with every kiss, "You were stupidly hot pouring those drinks. I wanted to jump you right then and there. Take one of those rooms up for the night."

"I would have let you."

She giggled as you began unbuttoning her black jeans, which she quickly helped you tug them from her body, along with her underwear. Leaving her fully naked from the waist down.

Leaning down, you spit a great glob of saliva against the red-head's clit, rubbing two of your fingers against the nub as she whimpered before you quickly thrust into her.

The table rocked and creaked underneath as you pounded her into the hardwood. Strap, slipping and sliding within her, her wetness making it pop out and land on her clit, thrusting into it a few times before you stuffed her full once more.

The red-head's legs were thrown over your shoulders, calfs resting on them, the girl bracing herself against her forearms, pushing herself up to meet you in passion-filled kisses, separated only by gasps and whispers of pleasure.

You couldn't help but scatter kisses across her bare chest. Shirt hiked up high above her breasts, cups of her bra pulled down under them. Taking a nipple into your mouth, you sucked against the sensitive flesh, making the woman groan into the early morning air.

Feeling the sharp tug against the back of your hair, you removed your lips from her tit with a pop, peering up at the red-head, letting her pull you into another hot and heavy kiss.

"Oh, holy shit," she whined against your lips, rearing down against each of your thrusts, one arm bracing herself behind her, as the other still held onto the back of your head, "I'm so fuckin' close. I'm gonna come- Please make me come."

You smirked against her plump lips, hips speeding up to do as she wished. Until that lust-filled haze was lifted and instead was replaced with cold panic, as far-off voices could be heard nearing the backyard.

The red-head's eyes matched yours, blowing wide with fear of possibly getting caught in the next few seconds.

Quicker than you ever imagined, you pulled your clothes back on. Well, yours was easy to solve. All you had to do was shove your strap back into your pants and pull them back up your thighs.

However, the woman you had the pleasure of fucking had a much bigger task. She pulled her bra up and tugged her shirt back down, that was easy enough. She chose to skip the underwear altogether and instead jump straight into her jeans. Her red panties being shoved into your hands, she quickly grabbed her discarded shoes, and you both ran from the garden just as the students rounded the opposite side of the frat house.

You had the girl pressed up against the white slats of the building, giggling into each others skin at the close call.

"I'm Y/N, by the way," you panted against her chest.

The red-head giggled into the sky, slowly turning into lighter shades of blue, as the sun rose over the college town.

"I'm Natasha."

"Well, Natasha." You removed yourself from her, hazily grinning up at the beautiful woman. "Do you wanna come back to my place so we can finish this off?"

Her sultry smile was the only answer you needed.

---

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#original work #original fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #marvel #MCU

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letterstotheflre · 3 years ago

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that’s the thing about illicit affairs

summary: james was never hers to lose.

warnings: CHEATING, age gap (not specified but reader is in her 20s), tiiiny angst?? i don’t think it’s sad lmao, allusions to sex and one miniature sex scene, some food mentions, and a very badly written argument.

word count: 3k (why are they always so long ffs)

a/n: my first james potter fic <3 i love this man so much, sorry for making you the bad guy here. this one’s been sitting in my drafts for a few weeks, and since i’ve been feeling kinda sad i finally got around to edit it. also hedric rights!!

They always meet like this.

The room is dark except for a small sea salt lamp she bought on sale from Target. Her clothes are piling up on the floor, discarded carelessly by her lover, and his are not too far from meeting the same fate.

He is kissing her hungrily as he could never get enough of her. His hands travel all over her back while she unbuttons his shirt, their lips never parting. He moves her to her bed, the sheets a pale green that reminds him of—

No. He closes his eyes tightly, pretends the green is actually blue like the lacy bralette that covers her breasts and moves his lips down to her jaw. He sucks and nips and bites, letting her moans echo freely between the four walls that make their little sanctuary.

Her hands quickly undo his belt and stroke him lightly through the fabric of his boxers. He groans against the junction of her neck, the skin softer than anything he’s touched in years.

He pushes her down on the bed, cupping her face while he looks at her properly, noting the tangled hair caused by his fingers. Her lips are puffy and shiny, his kisses being the perpetrator of their current state. He waits for her to say something, to give him a sign that this is okay.

(It’s not okay, and they both know it. It’ll never be okay.)

She nods her head, and he kneels in front of her, pushing her legs wide open before he dives in.

—

She is laying on her bed, the sheets covering her body as she watches him try to fix up his hair in front of the mirror on her makeshift vanity.

“Make sure no one sees you leave,” she says, “and put—”

“Put my hood up, I know,” he finishes the sentence for her. It’s not the first time they do this dance.

“Sirius and Remus are with Harry at home. I told them I was going for a run, so they won’t say anything if I show up all sweaty,” he adds, trying to fill the awkward silence.

She just nods her head, fingers playing with a loose thread on the edge of the sheet, pulling it a bit more every time she twists her index finger. He steps forward, then sits on her bed and traces her cheekbone with his knuckles. “You know I care about you, right?” he asks.

Her heart clenches, a heavy weight pressing down on her chest that makes it hard to breathe for a second. She lowers her eyes, refusing to stare at those hazel irises that started everything. “I know, James,” she assures quietly, looking at a picture of her and Harry that’s stuck to the wall just behind him.

James brushes back some stray hairs that are still stuck to her forehead, then presses a small kiss on the slightly sweaty skin. He gives her a tentative smile before heading to the door, and she only looks in his direction when she hears the click of the door.

(He might care, but not enough.)

—

Sundays are always a slightly awkward affair at first.

Both of their families have been friends for years, getting together every Sunday for lunch at the Potter’s. James and Sirius always man the grill with her dad, all of them wearing those corny ‘kiss the chef!’ aprons. Her mother helps Lily make the salads in the kitchen while they gossip with Remus, who steals a few tomatoes when they aren’t looking. Now that it’s summer, she and Harry splash each other in the pool instead of catching up in his room.

It’s always strange seeing James in the light of day, pretending that this is the only version of him she knows: the version of him that is a friend, a father, a husband.

But she knows the other version of him: the one that has her on her knees begging for a taste of him, the one that grips her hair while he pounds into her from behind, the one that lets his tongue explore places of her no one else has. The version of him that kisses her forehead and plays with her fingers while their bodies are tangled together under the sheets. The version of him that kisses her as if she were the only one made for him.

(She isn’t.)

They are sitting around the table eating. Sirius is laughing about something with his arm around Remus’s shoulders, his bark of laughter echoing across the garden. Her mother’s shoulders shake as Lily rolls her eyes in amusement. James and her father have gone back to the grill to bring everyone their second round of burgers, and she can hear her father complaining about something from work.

“Here y’go, kid,” says James as he places the plate in front of her before ruffling her hair. She tenses up for a second before relaxing, muttering a small “thank you” before reaching for the ketchup.

She hates that nickname. It’s so impersonal, keeps a distance between them that truly doesn’t exist. As if he isn’t the only person that can make her vision whiten and the colours of her room hazy while she clutches his shoulders. As if he isn’t the only person who can pull so many different sounds from her vocal cords, sounds he knows no one else has ever heard before because he is the only one who can create them.

She can feel Sirius’s eyes on her as she stretches one arm, so she hesitantly glances at him. He raises an eyebrow, eyes switching back and forth between James and her, and she can see the cogs turning in his mind.

She gulps anxiously, dismissing him with a wave of her hand and goes back to eating.

—

James’s moans are loud as he gathers her hair in a makeshift ponytail. His cock is buried in her throat, and he watches as she gags for a second before relaxing her throat.

She’s taking him so deep that her nose nuzzles his pubic hair, the musky scent of James filling her nose as she breathes deeply through it. She starts moving her head up and down, swirling her tongue around the tip every time she rises.

He is a mess above her, needy whines and wanton moans leaving his mouth. His hips thrust up softly, slowly fucking her mouth, and he relishes in the small choking sounds she makes. His head rolls back as he groans, “That’s it, baby, so good to me.”

She winces at the name and pulls away from him. “Don’t call me that,” she mutters, but her hands never stop stroking him. She takes him back into her mouth and starts sucking with a newfound fervour, his voice echoing inside her head as she tries to make him forget about her.

(She tries to forget too.)

—

Honey rays filter through her window.

They are both laying on her bed, James on his stomach while she refills the glasses with some cheap wine she got from the store. He looks at the tiny purple splotches on her neck and the red fingerprints on her hips, then smirks proudly. When she turns, she smiles at him softly.

There’s a summer breeze that ruffles her curtains, and he can hear some teenagers laughing as they walk down the street over the music that plays from her speaker.

She places her glass on her nightstand, her nipples brushing his naked back as she leans over him. She lays down on her side, her fingertips softly drawing shapes on his skin. It takes him a moment to realize they are not random shapes but letters.

Her name, written over his scattered freckles and connecting his moles with cursive loops.

He takes her hand and kisses it, slightly chapped lips pressing against her open palm. Then he kisses her lips, still bitterly sweet with grapes, as his tongue moves languidly against hers while he pulls her by the hand on top of him.

It feels like a distant memory. It feels like a dream.

—

The cacophony of different voices singing “Happy Birthday” rings in her ears.

Harry is at the front of the table, an adorable blush dusting his cheeks at the attention. On either side of him are James and Lily, smiles wide as they watch their son blow the candles. Cedric is behind him, hands on his shoulders, and he leans forward to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

She sings and claps, whooping with Sirius when Harry blows the last candle. She eats cake and drinks the pretty cocktails Lily ordered. She smiles and laughs, pretends she couldn’t see the way the candles made the golden band on James’s ring finger beam like the sun.

She pretends she doesn’t see the way James holds Lily’s waist before kissing her. She pretends she can’t see them dancing slowly to a song Remus put on the Spotify playlist as a joke.

She pretends she can’t hear his footsteps following her when she goes to the bathroom. She feigns disinterest when he grabs her wrist and pulls her towards a deserted corridor.

But she can’t ignore the butterflies in her stomach when he kisses her, the thrumming in her veins when he pushes one leg between her thighs, nor the pleasure-filled gasps and moans that leave her mouth when he helps her roll her hips along his covered thigh.

It’s thrilling; they’ve never done something like this in public, much less in such proximity to friends and family.

(In such proximity to her.)

Even though she knows it shouldn’t, it gives her a sense of victory. Because he is here with her now: he is kissing her, making her moan, and whispering dirty things in her ear.

A faraway call of his name breaks the spell they’re under. They pull away hastily; she fixes her dress while James makes sure there are no lipstick stains on his face. The footsteps are getting closer, heels hitting the floorboards at the same rhythm as their rapid beating hearts.

It’s Sirius.

James almost breathes a sigh of relief, but she remains tensed up. Sirius looks between them, the same look he had that Sunday all those weeks ago on his face, and she feels bile rising in her throat.

“Lily’s looking for you,” he says, his thumb pointing back over his shoulder towards the reception where everyone’s gathered.

“Right,” says James. “Better go see what she needs. You do not want to see an angry drunk Lily.” He laughs, almost oblivious to the awkward tension between his two friends. He goes back to Lily, leaving her leaning against the wall and Sirius standing in the middle of the hallway.

Sirius looks at her, and even though his mind already knows, he refuses to believe it. “I didn’t know where the bathroom was,” she offers as an explanation. It’s a flimsy excuse, she knows that, but it’s the best she can do under this kind of pressure.

“Right,” he whispers with a short nod, then follows James.

She stays rooted to her spot, lips tingling with the ghost of James touch and a guilty mind.

—

Hours later, she clings to a pillow as she lays on her bed alone. The same pillow James was resting on less than twelve hours ago.

She breathes in deeply, trying to catch any scent of him she can, but there’s only the scent of her fabric softener.

There’s no James. No citrus shampoo or woodsy cologne nor salty air from the beach near his house. Because he never wears any cologne when he comes to her, ensuring that there’s no trace of him once he leaves.

Like he doesn’t even exist.

—

It ends in a parking lot a month later.

She was waiting for Luna to arrive at the mall but ended up asking for a rain check when James texted her, saying they needed to talk.

‘Meet me behind the mall’, she texts him.

She walks to the back of the building and waits for his red car to show up. She already knows where this conversation is going to go, and her heart shatters at the thought of saying goodbye to him.

She raises her head when she hears a honk in front of her, and she gets in while whispering a small “hey”. He doesn’t start the car again, just settles for turning the ignition key off. She looks at the families leaving the mall through the tinted window, refusing to look at him, as her knee bounces up and down anxiously.

The silence is heavy, and she suddenly feels cold in the August heat.

James takes a deep breath, “We can’t keep doing this.”

She can’t help the snarky comment. “That’s not what you were saying yesterday while you had your fingers buried inside me.” He looks at her unimpressed, and she rolls her eyes.

“It’s wrong,” he says— as if she doesn’t already know that. “C’mon, baby, don’t make this harder than it has to—”

“I told you not to call me that!” she raises her voice, and the car gets silent again. She hates the tears that gather in her eyes, hates that she cares so much about him and their stupid game, but she couldn’t help it. Not when he whispered so many sweet nothings in her ears and caressed her skin so softly, almost afraid to break him if he was too rough.

(Not that he cared about that when he stretched her wide open and thrust so hard into her that the bed frame banged against the wall.)

“You can’t just show up here and tell me it’s over like you weren’t the one that came to me first,” she jeers, and she can see the tick of his jaw as he clenches it. Good, she thinks, make him angry.

“Don’t just blame me. You didn’t say ‘no’ once.” He grounds out, “In fact, I can recall you were begging me to fuck you against the wall.”

Her cheeks turn into a small fire, a slight feeling of shame overcoming her. “Oh, like you were any better!” she exclaims. “‘Been thinking about you for months.’ ‘You have no idea the things you do to me.’ ‘No one can suck my cock like you.’ ‘I care about you!’” She deepens her voice to mock him.

James opens his mouth to keep the ball rolling, and she wants him to do it because it meant that the fight was still on, that they wouldn’t have to end this. Instead, he takes a deep breath to calm himself. “I’m telling you now it’s over. Stop acting like a kid who didn’t get her Christmas present,” he says, knowing exactly what he is doing with those words.

“I’m not a kid,” she snaps, her eyes fighting back angry teats at his dismissal. “Then stop acting like one,” he shrugs.

Her hands turn into fists, nails digging themselves into her palms as she tries to keep her anger at bay. “Do you know how much of myself I gave to you? How many plans with my friends have I cancelled in case you called? How many guys I stopped seeing because they weren’t you?” she rants, her voice increasing in volume as she lets her frustration take over. Then, she pauses. “You’ve ruined me, James.”

Her voice is so pained that it makes his heart clench, and he lowers his head, refusing to look at her. He knows, God, he knows what he’s done, but he couldn’t help it. He had been so lonely with Lily spending so much time at the hospital, and then there she was with her caring and understanding nature. With her adorable laughs and those touches that were so addictive, a mercurial high that gave him the lowest lows whenever he tried to stop.

He keeps his mouth shut; there’s nothing left to say anyway, and it’s better for her to hate him rather than anything else. “You are not going to say anything?” It’s meek, vulnerable, and she wants to slap herself for acting this way. She knew it would never last, that he would always choose her.

He was never hers to lose, so why is she still fighting?

She nods her head in surrender, biting her lip to stop herself from sobbing. The anger now gave way to sadness, “I can’t believe I let you make a fool of me.” Her voice is hoarse, a result of the lump in her throat that prevents her from swallowing comfortably.

She gets out of the car and slams the door shut, then leaves the parking lot, leaving him behind. She keeps walking, fingers gripping the straps of her bag until she reaches an empty street.

The golden sun is ready to dip on the horizon, and she can hear James’s car speeding behind her.

—

She doesn’t let the tears fall until she’s inside her apartment.

The moment she closed the door, she crumbled to her knees, loud sobs falling from her mouth and fat tears rolling down her cheeks. It takes her a moment to gather enough strength to walk to her room.

She cries and cries, buries her face in her pillows and starts sobbing even harder because she can smell him. The salty scent and citrus shampoo finally embedded themselves in the fabric, and she can’t believe that after all those days she craved to feel him close to her, he chooses now to leave a trace behind.

She cries for hours until her eyes are puffy and red, and snot comes out of her nose. Her chest heaves with short breaths that don’t really fill her lungs as she clings to that damn pillow before throwing it across the room. She can’t believe it ended like this: with her completely broken for anyone else while James gets to go back to his life and act like nothing ever happened.

Yet she knows that if she had to choose, she would do it all over again because if she had to choose someone to be her ruination, she would choose James Potter a million times.

TAGLIST: @emmaev @gxtitobxby @ildm4ev @capsmischief @arisblackhole @dracosafety @dracoxgeorge @tonystarksmutgarden @blowing-mikey @roonilwazlibswhore @lovelylupinx @sarcasmismyon1ydefence @marxy-06 @glossiable @remusjlupinisdead @amixedwitch @mattefic @artisancowbells @zzzfour — if you want to be added tap here

#james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter smut #james potter one shot #james potter fanfiction #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter angst #marauders fanfiction #marauders angst #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #james potter fluff #marauders fluff #marauders smut

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minisugakoobies · 3 years ago

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Paradise | JJK - Four

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: smut, neighbors to lovers (not quite friends but not quite strangers), slow burn, love triangle, Stripper!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: brief mention of alcohol-induced sickness, swearing, kissing, fingering, orgasms

Word Count: 6.8K

Disclaimer: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: That sexy man on stage - the one currently giving your friend the lap dance of her LIFE - is your super shy neighbor, Jeon Jungkook?!

A/N: Still overwhelmed by the love y'all have given me for this story. The slow burn has been simmering for a while, hasn't it? Let's just crank that heat up a bit. 🔥

Unbeta'd as usual. Taglist is always open, as is my inbox - I'd love to hear what you think! 💕

Previous Chapter ♦︎ Paradise Masterlist ♦︎ Next Chapter

Pain. That was what Saturday brought you. So much pain.

You woke in mid-afternoon, head pounding, mouth dry, stomach roiling. Lying in bed, you tried to recall how you'd ended up in such a state. But you could only remember slivers of your night, flickering by in brief vignettes.

Cocktails. Jungkook smiling at you. More cocktails. Jin making you laugh. Wine. Jungkook whispering in your ear. More wine. Jin saying good night. And then... music? And a cherry blossom tree?

Gingerly, you sat up, glancing at the clock on your nightstand, and noticed that a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin sat there. As you reached for both, the memory suddenly hit you.

Holy shit. Had you really stormed into Jungkook's apartment and yelled at him?

God, you were such an asshole.

You groaned as your stomach lurched violently and dashed to your bathroom just in time to avoid making a mess. Fuck. You hadn't gotten sick from drinking in years. Why on earth did you have so much wine last night? You didn’t even like it!

Cheek pressed against the cold tiles of your bathroom floor, you attempted to reassemble the memories of your evening. Like putting together a puzzle, but the pieces were blurry, and the edges frayed. You remembered having a great time with Jin. And before that, Jungkook. And Taehyung? Yes, he'd been there too, at the bar, while you were waiting. Looking like a dream, from what you could picture in your mind. All of them had, honestly. You seemed to be drowning in gorgeous men lately.

There was an odd feeling in the pit of your stomach, not related to the illness you felt from too much alcohol. It had to do with something Jungkook had said to you.

But what was it?

After several minutes, you gave up, clambering off the floor and dragging yourself into the kitchen. Spotting a lone electrolyte water in the fridge, you thanked whatever deity was listening and shuffled to the living room, intending to spend the afternoon recuperating by laying on the couch like a sloth and watching tv.

As you crossed your apartment, something white caught your eye. A piece of paper, lying in front of your door. You flipped it over.

Your own face stared back at you, etched in shades of gray and black. Mouth slightly open, with one hand raised, finger pointing off the page, you appeared to be in mid-sentence, like you were admonishing the viewer. Yet your eyes seemed soft, peering at you with an expression of almost wonder.

You'd never seen yourself like this before. You couldn't believe that anyone did.

In the corner of the page was a note:

Hope you're feeling ok. I wanted to apologize for last night. I had too much to drink at Dionysus and said some things I shouldn't have. I'm sorry if I crossed a line.

P.S. See? I wasn't lying, you're cute when you're mad.

- Jungkook

Jungkook. The cherry blossom tree. Right, he was an artist. You’d learned this about him last night, when you'd given him an earful. Of, uh... fuck, what did you say to him?

No more wine for you.

Slumping onto your couch, you studied every line of the drawing, every little detail, like the delicate way he’d inked the curl of your lashes, or how he’d captured the loose strands of your hair that framed your face. This had to have taken him hours. Had he stayed up all night, working on this?

And his note. The bit about saying things he shouldn't have said. What was he talking about? Snippets of your conversation at the bar replayed in your head. He'd called you beautiful, you remembered that clearly, face warming even just in memory, but what else could he be referring to?

You closed your eyes, sighing.

"...definitely couldn't make you cum."

Ah, right.

Your eyes snapped open as it came back to you. The way he'd held you as he'd laughed and mocked Jin. You reread the note. Of course. Jungkook had been drunk. He'd been teasing you again, and the things he’d said had just been the result of too much to drink. He’d taken it too far, and he felt bad.

Obviously, Jisoo was wrong. Jungkook wasn’t attracted to you. He just liked to play with you. Rile you up. And why not? You were easy pickings. Never took much to get a rise out of you. Clearly he’d more than succeeded, if you’d been so wound up by his words that you’d actually yelled at him.

You sighed, wishing you knew what you’d said. All you could remember was being mad.

Should you apologize to him, for the way you'd barged in and berated him? You hated the thought of him thinking you were rude. That wasn’t how you usually acted, but you’d been so… keyed up last night. Not to mention Drunk with a capital D. Without knowing exactly what you'd said to Jungkook, though, you weren't sure. Besides, you weren't in the best condition at the moment.

Your head throbbed. No more thinking. You needed to rest and rehydrate. Stumbling to your bedroom for more aspirin, you carried the sketch with you, placing it on your nightstand. Would it be weird to frame it? Maybe. But you still might.

Minutes into a “Be Still My Heart” episode, you passed out on your couch.

When you woke hours later, your stomach was no longer rumbling and your head no longer ached, but you didn’t feel any more rested than when you’d awoken earlier that day. Still, it was an improvement, so you got up, showered, and threw on a pair of cozy pajama pants and a racerback tank top that read “Financial Analysts Do It With Models.” Nothing like starting the day at - you glanced at the clock - Jesus, at 7 pm.

No. More. Wine. EVER.

You ate some dry toast - your gut might have settled but you weren’t taking any chances - and curled up on the couch again, flipping aimlessly through your streaming queue.

The group text thread was blowing up your phone, all your friends wanting details about your dinner at Dionysus, but you didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to have that conversation at the moment - especially since you still couldn’t recall half the night. So you fired off a quick “too hungover to function” text with a promise to chat tomorrow, silenced your phone, and slid it into your pocket

A sweet tenor began serenading you through the wall.

Fine, maybe he wasn’t actually serenading you, but you were definitely enjoying the sound of Jungkook’s singing as it drifted across your apartment, his crystal-clear voice effortlessly traversing a tricky melody.

And it carried with it a memory, of you asking Jungkook what the fuck his deal was.

You sat up with a start as the last puzzle pieces shifted into place. Oh god, you’d marched right over to his apartment and asked him what his deal was and what he was playing at and…

And then you’d gotten completely distracted by how unbelievably hot he was and completely derailed yourself.

Flopping dramatically onto your back, you pressed a throw pillow into your face to muffle a pained groan. Well, it could’ve been worse, what you’d said to him. Mercifully, your inability to focus had kept you from making a total ass of yourself.

You’d just made an incomplete ass of yourself instead. Partial. Maybe half.

As you laid there, reliving the fragmented memories over and over, a sour feeling in the pit of your stomach nagged at you. Not from the gallons of alcohol you’d imbibed or the toast threatening to make a reappearance. It was guilt.

You couldn’t imagine what he must’ve thought of you after last night. To have someone just stomp into your apartment and start yelling? You’d immediately call them an asshole.

You didn’t want to be the asshole neighbor.

Fuck, your conscience really wasn’t going to let you rest until you made amends, was it?

Heaving yourself off of your couch with a weary sigh, you headed for your neighbor’s apartment to set things right.

The music cut off at the sound of your knocking, and you were hit with a sensation of déjà vu. It only amplified when Jungkook opened the door, clad in black sweats, looking contrite.

“Sorry, were you trying to sleep? I can turn the music down,” he apologized by way of greeting.

You shook your head. “No, the music’s fine. I just - can I come in?”

Jungkook nodded, stepping aside to let you enter, and again you felt like you were reliving the same moment. There was the sleek black furniture, the easel in the corner, the paint supplies strewn about - everything was the same as last night. Except for one thing - the cherry blossom tree was gone, replaced by a fresh, blank canvas.

Jungkook gestured to his couch, but you shook your head. You wanted to keep this short, eat crow as quickly as possible. You hovered near the door as he sat down.

“I’m a little surprised to see you up. Kinda thought you might sleep the day away,” he grinned, nose wrinkling slightly. His dark hair was tucked up into a little ponytail, looking exactly like you’d dreamed the night after you’d seen him dance at Paradise. Like your dream was a premonition.

(If only.)

You flushed, mindlessly fiddling with the drawstrings on your pants. “I just woke up a little while ago,” you admitted. You glanced back at the easel. “I’m not interrupting you, am I?”

“Oh, no. I always have that set up there,” he explained. “I’m not doing anything right now. I have to work tonight. No time to paint.”

“Ah. Well, I won’t take up too much of your time, anyway. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” He cocked his head. “For?”

“For barreling in here last night and yelling at you. It was rude of me.”

He blinked. “You’re apologizing… to me?”

You nodded. “Well, yeah. I mean, I just pushed my way in here and started screaming at you. I feel awful about that. And I don’t want you to think less of me.”

He was silent for a moment, eyes scanning your face as if searching for something. “How much do you remember about last night?”

You pursed your lips. “Enough of it to know I acted like a jerk.”

“That’s not what I mean. Dionysus. How much do you remember from there?”

“Oh. I remember hanging out at the bar with you. And Taehyung.” You smiled. “I think he and I are best friends now, unless that was just a wine-induced hallucination.”

Jungkook grinned. “Nope, that is true. Lucky for him, not so sure about you.” His expression shifted, becoming serious again. “Is that all?”

“No.” You hesitated for a moment. “I know you made fun of Jin, my date. You said some pretty nasty things about him.”

“But you know exactly what I said?” Again, you felt like he was examining you, and you weren’t sure what he was looking for.

“Yes. I remember.”

“Then there’s nothing for you to apologize for,” he stated. “You were right to yell at me. You were on a date, and I was disrespectful. And I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no, Jungkook,” you objected, shaking your head. He shouldn’t be the one asking for forgiveness. “I got your note. Thank you, by the way.” Your face heated as you gave him a shy smile. “The sketch is amazing. I… well, I’m incredibly flattered by it, to be honest. I could tell you were talented from your painting last night, but to make me look like that takes real skill.”

Something flitted across Jungkook’s face too quickly for you to catch it.

“But you explained everything,” you continued without hesitation. “I know you enjoy teasing me. I admit I’m a fairly easy mark, the way I get worked up so quickly, as you saw the other day in my apartment, and again last night. I understand what happened. You were drunk at Dionysus, you didn’t mean the things you said. I appreciate you apologizing, but this is about me. I shouldn’t have invaded your space and shouted at you like that.”

A minute passed, and he said nothing, just observed you with those doe eyes. You felt a nervous need to say something, anything, to fill the silence, but before you could begin to babble, he finally spoke. “No.”

You frowned, brow furrowing. “No?” No, what?

“No.” He stood and took a step towards you. “No, you don’t understand. I did mean it.”

He kept walking towards you, and you backed up until you hit the door behind you. You were lost. “You meant what?”

“All of it.” He was standing a breath’s width away now, peering down at you with an intensity you vaguely recognized but couldn’t quite place. “I meant every word I said to you. Yes, I was drunk, but I wasn’t just rambling. I was trying to say what I was thinking.”

Those lips. Those perfectly pink lips. Déjà vu again. You couldn’t stop staring, even as you struggled to comprehend what he was telling you. His mouth was so distractingly close.

“What… you were thinking?” you echoed dumbly.

“Yeah.” He bit his lip, contemplating his next words, and you watched as he worried the plump flesh between his teeth. Jesus, you were practically hypnotized by the motion, and you forced yourself to look away, gazing into his eyes instead.

That seemed to give him whatever it was he needed to speak again.

“I was jealous. Of your date.” His eyes flickered to your lips and back, as he stammered. “But I - I couldn’t tell you that. So I mocked him instead. What I was trying to say… what I wanted to say was… was ....”

He trailed off, and you waited breathlessly, heart pounding, until you couldn’t take it anymore. “Was? Was what?”

“I wanted to say… he couldn’t touch you like I could.”

A hand, on your hip.

“He couldn’t make you scream, make you cum the way I could.”

Fingers, gripping.

“He wasn’t worthy of you. Because there was no way he could worship you like I could. Like I want to.” The timbre of his voice dropped, a low rumble that shot straight through you. “If you’ll let me.”

“Jungkook,” you protested feebly, head reeling, as his other hand tipped your face up, bringing your mouth so close to his.

So, so close.

The hand grasping your side was squeezing so hard, you were sure to bruise, but you didn’t care.

“Please let me,” he whispered, and you leapt across the space between you, crushing your lips against his.

Jungkook kissed you back fiercely, tongue plunging, teeth nipping, pushing you against the door as he slotted a leg between yours. You whimpered into his mouth, and that encouraged him to run his hand down your thigh and grip behind your knee, yanking your leg up to wrap around him.

A tiny voice inside your head declared that this was too much, too fast, begging you to slow down. But your body was fully in control, reacting instinctively to Jungkook’s caresses, and you weren’t stopping now.

Keening, you locked your arms around his neck, using his wide shoulders to anchor yourself while you balanced on one leg. His hair came loose, dark curls tumbling out of his ponytail, and your fingers tugged at the thick strands at his nape. Jungkook let out a needy whine, pressing himself against you, and you broke the kiss, moaning his name at the tantalizing sensation.

You’d never been kissed like this before. Every inch of you burned from Jungkook’s touch. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you yearned to let him engulf you until you turned to ash.

Jungkook’s fingers danced along your waist, dipping underneath the band of your pajama pants, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “Can I?”

That little voice screamed now, shouting at you to stop, breathe, think for a moment, but you told it to shut the fuck up.

You kissed him again, nose bumping his as you nodded.

With your leg still raised, hooked around his thick thigh, you were open to him. He traced lightly over your folds, swirling the slickness there, letting out a debauched groan at feeling how ready for him you were, so quickly. You bucked against him slightly, urging him on, and he answered your silent entreaty, slipping one long finger inside.

You were so wet that he met no resistance, and you sighed happily as he crooked his digit, stroking you just right.

His mouth roamed, exhaling hot air against your ear before sliding his tongue along the ridge. As he did this, he also slid a second finger inside you.

“Fuck!” you gasped, surprised by the sudden addition. He began to pump his fingers in and out, fucking you fast, and your head dropped, resting on his shoulder, as you started to pant. “Jungkook!”

He simply grunted, licking along your neck, as he continued to thrust his fingers rapidly. The sound of his filthy ministrations filled the room, a lewd squelching joined by soft whispers as he nuzzled his nose into your ear and murmured quiet words of praise, like an invocation. His palm ground against your clit, and you jolted, overwhelmed, letting out a cry as you came.

Your orgasm hit you so unexpectedly, so powerfully, that you thrashed, twisting in Jungkook’s grip, and your leg fell from around his waist. Your phone was jostled from your pocket and hit the ground, landing face up. Jungkook removed his fingers, releasing you from his hold, and as you bent to retrieve your phone, you saw you had a missed message from earlier:

Seokjin (7:27): Feeling ok today? I have a surefire hangover cure if you need it

Jin, being sweet and checking up on you. Jin, the man you went on a date with last night. Jin, whom you’d invited up last night, who would maybe be knuckle deep inside you right now instead of Jungkook if you hadn’t been so drunk.

Fuck. Guilt came roaring back, driving your euphoric bliss away and settling in the pit of your stomach again.

What the fuck were you doing?

You hurriedly stuffed your phone back into your pocket as you straightened up.

Jungkook was breathing heavily, eyes darkened, that intense look on his face once again making you shiver. As you watched, he brought his tattooed hand to his lips and sucked his fingers into his mouth, tongue swirling to collect every drop.

“Hmm. As sweet as I imagined.”

Jesus Christ. You had to get out of there.

If you didn’t leave right now, you were definitely going to fuck him, and as amazing as you were sure that would be, it wouldn’t help your befuddled brain at all.

“Jungkook, I - “

“I just wish we had more time.” He glanced at his watch. “Shit. I’m later than I thought.”

There was your out.

“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry, I should leave,” you blurted, reaching for the door.

“Whoa!”

His fingers wrapped around your wrist, gently prying it off the doorknob, pulling you back to face him. He looked abashed. “I’m not trying to kick you out. You know that, right?”

He seemed genuinely worried that you thought he was trying to get rid of you. Goddamn it, why did he have to be so sweet?

“I know,” you nodded.

“Okay. We’ll just… have to finish this another time.”

There was that cute little bunny smile that you loved so much. The transformation was astounding. How the hell could he fingerfuck you like that and then turn into this shy guy again?

“Another time,” you chirped, trying desperately to escape. You needed space. You needed to think.

You needed to figure out what the hell you were doing.

“Promise?” he implored, hand grasping your chin gently so your gaze met his.

His wide eyes would be the death of you.

“Promise,” you breathed.

You weren’t sure if that was a lie or not.

Jungkook leaned in and brushed his mouth against yours. “See you around, neighbor,” he exhaled softly, a ghost of a smirk dancing across his lips.

It took all your strength to peel yourself off the door and leave.

Collapsing onto your couch, you whipped out your phone.

(7:47): 🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘

(7:47): NEED HELP

Bestie 😇 (7:49): What’s going on???

You quickly sent her a video chat request.

Jennie’s face popped onto your screen, alarm etched onto her pretty features. “What is going on?” she squeaked. “You NEVER want to be on video!”

“Jennieeeeee,” you wailed, propping your phone on your table so she could see your face while you laid on your side, looking as pathetic as you felt. “I’m in pain, and I don’t know what to do!”

You quickly filled her in on your date at Dionysus, leaving nothing out. At least, nothing that you remembered - there were still some slight gaps left that all that booze had erased. But you felt sure that you recalled all the important moments now.

Jennie didn’t interrupt, but her face went on an incredible journey as she listened, from surprised at Jungkook’s appearance, to elated at Jin’s charm, to absolutely appalled at Jungkook’s comments, and ending with bubbly giggles at Jin’s goodbye.

“Okay, wow, no wonder you are hurting today!” Jennie cackled once you’d paused to take a breath. “You know wine is not your friend!”

“That’s not the source of my pain, and that’s not the end of my night, Jennie,” you informed her dryly.

“But you said Jin went home? It sounds to me like you had an amazing time, minus the vulgar interruption from your neighbor. I can’t believe he said those things to you!”

“Yeah, I couldn’t believe it either. That’s why I confronted him.”

Jennie’s eyebrows shot up. “You? Miss I Don’t Do Confrontation? Aren’t you the one who once hated their lazy lab partner so much that, rather than just call them on their refusal to help, you dropped the entire biology course?!”

You rolled your eyes. “There’s no need to rehash that incident again, but I would like to remind you that I changed my major right after that, so I didn’t even need that class after all.” This was the problem with a best friend who remembered everything: she remembered everything. “But look - I was incredibly drunk! Thanks to all that wine, my anger managed to override my natural instincts, including my tendency to avoid, um, everything.”

“Fine. So what happened?”

“I banged on Jungkook’s door and demanded that he let me in. I accused him of playing games and asked him what his deal was.” You winced. “I think I even called him Bambi to his face.”

“What did he say??”

“Well, he didn’t really respond, because I kept getting distracted. I mentioned I was super drunk, right?” You sighed. “He’s an artist, Jennie. He had this painting of a cherry blossom tree… it was so lovely. I wish I had a photo of it that I could send to you, because I can’t describe his talent with words.”

Jennie tipped her head, considering. “So you didn’t get any answers from him because you got distracted by a painting?”

You made a face. “Um, no, it wasn’t just the painting. It was also… his face. I got sidetracked by how handsome he is.”

“You what?”

“I got distracted by his gorgeous fucking face and he ended up walking me back to my apartment and put me to bed, because, once again, I cannot stress just how fucking drunk I was!”

Jennie cracked up so loudly that you heard a voice in the background drone, “What is so funny?” A handsome face appeared over her shoulder, cat-like eyes blinking languidly.

“Hey Yoongi,” you waved.

“Hey,” Yoongi replied. “Nice shirt.” Then he drifted away.

“Man of few words, as always,” you commented.

“Yeah, I’m a lucky gal,” Jennie grinned. “Anyway, let me see if I’m following this correctly. You went over to yell at Jungkook for being a jerk at Dionysus and ended up, what - swooning over his cute little doe eyes? And instead of him defending himself or fighting back, he took care of you? And now you’re upset about it?” The camera angle suddenly tilted as she mirrored your pose, lying on her bed. “Babe, I bet that’s guilt. Remember how you felt any time we fought? You were always the first to apologize.”

She knew you way too well.

“I did feel guilty when I woke up this morning. Or this evening, actually. I slept most of the day away because, again, drunk. But, uh, that’s not what has me freaking out right now.”

“Oh my god, you are killing me with this story. Then what is it??”

You inhaled deeply and closed your eyes, huffing the words out in one big whoosh. “I went over there a few minutes ago to apologize and Jungkook told me not to, because he was jealous of Jin and said he wanted me to worship me and then he kissed me and pushed me up against his door and fingerbanged me into the most intense orgasm I’ve had in months.”

Silence. You cracked an eye open. Jennie’s image was frozen.

“Oh shit, Jennie, I think you’re frozen. Let me call you ba- ”

“He WHAT?!”

Jennie’s mouth was a perfect O as she stared at you, and you covered your face with your hands.

“He fingerfucked me. Oh my god, Jennie, it was so good, he got me off so fast. Like embarrassingly fast, I went from dry to dripping in nanoseconds, and I nearly climbed him right then and there but he had to get to work. So I ran back here and called you, because while Jungkook was fingering me, Jin was texting me.”

“Oh my god, babe, your neighbor is a goddamn demon.” Jennie shrieked, dropping out of frame as she rolled with laughter. She reappeared after a few seconds, wiping her eyes. “You mean to tell me that not only did he not apologize for saying those vile things to you while you were on a date, not only did he reject your apology, but he then seduced you? Wow.”

“It’s not funny,” you insisted weakly.

“Sorry, but it kind of is. God, I wish Jisoo were here. She’d be dying, too.”

“Sure, let’s all laugh at my pain.”

Jennie ignored your melodramatic whining. “Honestly, after experiencing him in motion at Paradise, and then hearing your shower story, and now this, I’m convinced Bambi might be an incubus in disguise or something.”

You sighed. “Anyway, you’re not quite right. I mean, Jungkook did apologize - did I not mention that? Oh!” You jumped up, grabbed your phone, and ran to your bedroom. “I do have some of his art that I can show you.”

“Wait, why are we back to talking about art?”

“Hold on, just check this out.” You held the sketch up, giving her a few minutes to examine it.

“Oh, wow. He really captured you so well.” Jennie's voice softened as she studied the drawing.

“He took some artistic liberties.”

Jennie glared. “You’re beautiful, and I won’t hear otherwise. You have the proof right there!” She paused. “Not to mention you have two hot as fuck men fighting over you. Jungkook really said he was jealous?”

“Yeah.” You bit your lip, putting the sketch down and laid down on your bed. “So he apologized, and admitted jealousy, and… and I don’t know what to think now.”

“He said he wanted you, right?”

“To worship me,” you corrected her. “He wanted to worship me.”

“What the hell does that mean? Like, he wants to fuck you? How long does this “worship” last - one night?”

“I don’t know,” you repeated, shrugging. “I’m not sure if he’s just out to fuck me. He seemed pretty sweet after he got me off. Like, I tried to rush out of there, but he stopped me. He wanted me to promise we’d continue... whatever that was.”

“He made you promise?”

“Yeah.”

"Hmmm." Jennie frowned. “Why were you running out of there?”

“Uh, because I saw Jin’s text, and I needed to think. Being around Jungkook… it’s hard to think straight.” “Oh, I am aware. My brain is still a little scrambled from my lapdance!” Jennie smirked. “But what did Jin want? Was he asking you out again?”

“He was checking up on me. He wanted to know how I’m feeling today.”

“That’s because Jin is a total sweetheart! He’d be so good for you.”

“I know.”

“Look, I know I’m biased, but I really think Jin is the better man here. There’s no head games with him. He’s not swanning around half-naked to tease you, or whispering wild words in your ear. He’s honest and upfront. Safe. Everything you could want from a partner!”

Her words weren’t anything you hadn’t already considered. You knew that Jin was a dream come true for someone looking for the perfect partner.

Was that someone still you?

Because even if you were still a little hazy on bits of last night, you couldn’t recall Jin ever making your pulse race the way Jungkook did. And until Jungkook had touched you, had made you fall apart the way he did, you hadn’t let yourself think for one second that you could have him.

So what did you want - the perfect partner or the burning flame?

Your head was starting to ache again.

“Are you still with me, babe, or did you freeze?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I’m here. Just thinking.”

“Oh, that’s what that sound was. The gears turning.” “Ha,” you intoned lifelessly.

“I’m sorry. I’m not sure I’ve done much to help you here.”

“No, you have. Just talking it out helps.”

She hummed. “So, what are you going to do now?”

“I guess I should text Jin back, to start.”

"And what about Jungkook?"

You exhaled noisily. "I don’t know."

"I just don't want to see you get hurt."

You knew that. Jennie only wanted to see you happy.

Jungkook's face hung in your mind, the way he'd looked at you when you'd made your promise. Your gut told you he was being sincere in that moment.

But your gut had been wrong before. And your heart had paid the price.

"I know. I’ll figure it out.”

You must’ve sounded more confident than you felt, because Jennie believed you. After hanging up, you stared at the drawing on your nightstand until you drifted off to sleep.

You dreamt of dark eyes and lithe fingers, and a voice whispering “Please let me.”

Sunday morning, you were resolved.

You called Jin.

He answered by calling out your name in delight. “To what do I owe this early morning pleasure?”

You’d slept straight through the night and woken up early (for you) for once, around eight. After lying in bed for a while, again pouring over the events of the previous two evenings, obsessing over every word, every action, you came to a decision.

You needed to give Jin a fair shot.

Too much of your date was a drunken blur. And though last night, you’d believed that Jin couldn’t drive you wild the way Jungkook could, the truth was, he really hadn’t had the chance yet.

So who were you to deny a devastatingly handsome man the opportunity to knock your socks off?

(Only if he wanted to, of course. Sock knocking had to be consensual.)

“Hey, Jin. I wanted to know if you were free today?”

It turned out Jin had plans in your part of town (a dinner meeting - you idly wondered if there was ever day when he didn’t have a meeting scheduled), so he agreed to come over and watch a movie in the afternoon - with the caveat that you let him make you his famous peanut butter caramel popcorn in exchange for hosting the date. Like you were going to argue with a professional chef offering to cook for you.

That’s how you found yourself sitting at your dining table, watching with glee as Jin took over your kitchen. He bustled around the tiny space, tall frame stooping as he dug around for cookware and utensils, with a helpful point or two from you.

“This seems insanely complicated for popcorn,” you remarked, eyeing all of the ingredients as Jin pulled them out of his shopping bag. Given how your cabinets were typically barren, he’d had to pick up all the necessities on his way over.

“It’s not so bad,” he replied. “You just cook the popcorn on the stovetop, then prepare the caramel peanut butter sauce, then combine the two and bake for an hour. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.” “Couldn’t you use microwave popcorn and save yourself some time and effort?”

Jin looked affronted. “Microwave popcorn? Excuse me?”

You giggled. “Or what if you just got that caramel sauce they sell at stores - the stuff for ice cream sundaes - and poured that over the microwave popcorn? Instead of mixing all that - what is that, brown sugar and butter and whatever else you’ve got there?”

“One more terrible suggestion and I’m banishing you from the kitchen.”

“Sorry, chef.”

Jin took his eye off of the popping corn for a second to peer at you, eyebrow raised suggestively. “All right, you can stay if you keep calling me ‘chef.”

“Yes, chef. I’ll be good, chef,” you purred sweetly.

Noting the way his back straightened in response to your words, you filed that info away for later.

Jin appeared to be treating you to a private performance of his cooking series, telling stories, cracking jokes, and even giving you a brief explainer on the science behind caramelization. You were rapt, hanging on every word, mesmerized by how effortless he made it look. No wonder he was so in-demand - he put on a good show.

Your front row seat also allowed you to admire his beauty up close. Sure, he’d been just as handsome last night, but you were viewing him through a sober lens now, which meant you could appreciate him better. Wavy brown hair hung loosely in his face, skimming dark brows that moved animatedly when he spoke. His warm brown eyes sparkled when he glanced at you, crinkling merrily when he guffawed at his own jokes, and you kept catching yourself staring at his dazzling smile.

Jisoo was absolutely going to die of jealousy when you filled her in later.

Jin insisted on doing the dishes after the popcorn went into the oven, and again, you weren’t going to tell him ‘no.’

“So, is this how you got into cooking? Making elaborate snacks for your friends?”

“Nope. I started cooking solely to charm women.” He winked as he dried his hands, grabbing an oven mitt to check on the popcorn.

“Ah. And how is that going?”

He opened the oven door, waving his hand to waft the mouth-watering scent of salty sweet caramel towards you. “You tell me.” You were practically drooling. “So far, so good.”

The movie you’d chosen was a recent romcom Jennie had raved about. Jin had struck you as the type of guy to enjoy a silly romance flick. Your hunch was correct. His delightful honk of a laugh filled your apartment as the afternoon flew by.

Hanging out with Jin was so easy. You felt completely relaxed, sitting next to him on your couch, giggling at his reactions more than at the movie itself. He was an active spectator, cackling and gasping and shouting at the two leads as they blundered their way through an increasingly ridiculous series of obstacles meant to keep them apart until the final scene, when they declared their love.

“Ah, that was great!” Jin exclaimed as the credits rolled. He propped his elbow on the back of the couch, leaning his head on his hand as he looked at you. “You know, I was a little worried for a while there that they wouldn’t end up together.”

“Really?”

Jin snorted. “No, of course not! Films like this always end the same way, with a dramatic confession of love. They’re so predictable.”

You laughed, devouring a handful of popcorn. Jin’s hard work had paid off deliciously. “But that’s the beauty of these movies! You know exactly where they’re heading. There’s always a happy ending.” You sighed. “If only life were like that.”

Jin tossed some popcorn into the air, catching it in his mouth. “Would you really want your life to be like that? Predictable?” He chucked another piece and you giggled as it bounced off his nose.

“If it means I’ll end up living happily ever after?” You shrugged. “Doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

“I don’t know,” he mused. “Surprises can be nice. Chance encounters, unexpected pleasures - these are the things that make life worth living, to me. I get to travel because of what I do, and meet so many people, experience different cultures, discover new food - my life is an adventure and I never know where it will take me next.” He grinned. “I don’t know where I’ll end up all the time, but I’m still happy, because I enjoy the journey along the way.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” you trailed off as Jin laughed.

He made it sound so thrilling, living without knowing where the moment would take him. Your whole life was about knowing the next move, trying to plan everything out to reach the predicted outcome. The desired result.

Maybe you should try embracing the unknown. Pursue your own unanticipated delights.

Jungkook’s wicked smirk flashed through your mind. You pushed him aside.

“Tell me more about these unexpected pleasures,” you said, tucking your legs under you as you faced Jin on the couch. Time to make your move.

Jin’s eyebrow quirked as he regarded you, disappearing under his bangs. “I could tell you, or I could show you,” he suggested, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh.

You couldn’t help but burst into giggles.

Jin looked slightly shocked at your reaction. “What? Too much?”

“No, no, that was perfect,” you smiled. “You just sounded exactly like the guy from the movie for a minute.”

“Ah. It wasn’t the most original line, I admit.”

“You don’t need any lines,” you informed him, sliding closer. Cheesy romcom delivery or not, he was still cute, and you still wanted to know what those lips would feel like on yours.

“I don’t?” He thumb caressed your leg as he peered down at you.

You shook your head, tilting your face up. Jin took the hint, his other hand cupping the back of your head gently as he pulled you closer -

“PAY ME WHAT YOU OWE ME!”

Another giggle fit overtook you, and you laughed against Jin’s lips. He leaned away, fumbling in his pocket for his phone, trying desperately to silence his ringtone.

“I’m sorry, but was that ‘Bitch Better Have My Money?’'' you asked between giggles.

Jin nodded, face turning red. “Yeah. That’s my manager’s ringtone.” He glanced at his screen. “Damn, it’s almost 6. He’s probably calling to see if I’m on my way.”

The moment had passed, so you stood, stretching. “Thanks for cooking for me. Are you sure you don’t want to take any of the stuff you bought?”

“Nah, you can keep it. In case you want to try making the popcorn yourself.”

You doubted you’d put in the effort, but you thanked him anyway.

The two of you shuffled towards the door. Jin propped himself against the door frame and peered down at you. “Maybe next time, instead of a snack, I can cook you dinner? At my place?” He grinned. “It’s a lot more impressive if I make a whole meal.”

“You still think you need to impress me?”

He shrugged. “I’d like to try, anyway.”

“I guess I shouldn’t argue with that,” you remarked drolly, and Jin chuckled.

He towered over you, a warm smile on his lips. Here was your chance again. Surging up onto your toes, you tugged lightly at his shirt, yanking him down into a kiss.

No phone calls interrupted you this time. There was only you and Jin, his arms wrapping around your waist as your hands came to rest on his broad chest. His kiss was slow and sure, warmth spreading throughout you as his mouth gently caressed yours.

Not a blazing fire, but a smouldering flame.

Knowing that Jin needed to go, you pulled away, settling back on your heels as you smiled up at him.

A rattling to your left startled you. You and Jin weren’t alone.

Jungkook stood frozen at his door, keys dangling from the lock, as he watched the two of you with wide eyes.

A hush settled over the hallway.

There was that desperate urge again to fill the silence as Jungkook gazed at you, his expression unwavering. Rushing to speak, you stuttered a hello, but he quickly turned away, disappearing into his apartment, leaving you staring at the spot where he'd been.

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hollandsmushroom · 3 years ago

Text

A Ring and A Chain

Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff and proposals.

Summary: Tom wants to replace something of yours but comes up with a conclusion so you can keep your old ones as well.

Word Count: 1610

You awoke to a rose on the pillow next to you, the soft smell enchanting your olfactory senses and drawing you from your peaceful sleep, it was in just enough time to catch the shirtless back of your boyfriend slipping out of the room. You're wrapped around the green stem, bringing the flora to your nose and inhaling deeply, the soft petals rubbing against your nose and making you shiver. The touch reminded you of gentle innocence and wandering through stores as a child trying to find the softest item, it was pure and unmeaning yet somehow filled with love. Your fingers pressed into the soft mattress topper, raising your sleep impaired body from the blankets.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, toes curling as the bare soles met the cold wooden floor, a shiver running through your body at the sudden change in air surrounding it, looking longingly at the pile of blankets on the bed before the sound of the kettle in the kitchen pulled you in the direction. The scent of tea and coffee replaced the lingering aroma of roses on your cheeks. You heard Tom before you saw him, the velvety notes of his humming overwhelming your hearing as you leaned against the door frame. Your body was shrouded with one of Tom’s shirt, the one that he had taken off last night before getting in bed, he was wearing nothing but his grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, the shadow of his hip bone peaking out, making you want to fall to your knees and places feathery kisses along the line of musculature.

His weight shifted from foot to foot, twisting around to face the kitchen island, where two plates with fresh fruit adorning the white porcelain sat. His brown eyes widened, eyebrows raising up his forehead, as he finally became aware of your presence. Your fingers still spinning the rose that had been so kindly placed next to you, he watched your movements as his eyes returned to normal, gaze softening as it went from your hands to your sleepy eyes.

A yawn escaped your lips as you shuffled towards him, he stood still, hands still holding the frying pan that was filled with the pancakes he had lovingly made. Your arms wrapped around his naked torso, nuzzling your cheek against his bare chest, his skin smooth against yours. You huffed contentedly as he set the pan down, his arms encircling you and pulling you tight, lips burying themselves in your hair as he kissed the top of your head.

“I thought you were still asleep” He spoke quietly, eyeing yoru striking features as you continued to cuddle yourself into him.

“Was, but a little cupid woke me up” you giggled, peeling your eyes open to meet his gaze, a smile spreading across your cheeks with how much adoration he was pouring into his stare, a grin quickly spreading to him as well. Leaning in and uniting your lips, it was a soft kiss, yet it still took your breath away. The only noise that filled your ears was the sound of your heart pounding, blood rushing as the world seemed to spin, there was more passion in this one kiss than there had been in any of your other relationships combined. His hands found your cheeks, thumbing over the dips of your orbital bones.

He continued this movement as you pulled apart, foreheads resting against one another as you both tried to catch your breath, everything in you seems to have been poured into that kiss.

“Good morning” he whispered, not wanting to break the serenity that was the atmosphere of the kitsch at the moment.

“Morning” you hum, looking at his eyes in time to catch them cover with a thick layer of fear, pulling back from your embrace, he placed pancakes on the plates and moved them to the other side of the island where two champagne glasses of orange juice sat.

“What is the occasion?” you asked, curious at what made this morning so special.

“Um, let's just eat and then you can see” he assured, kissing your lips tenderly as he moved around the island and pulling out your chair, which you happily accepted, the soft suede of the seat brushing against your bare thighs as you settled in, waiting for Tom to sit down before you started eating.

“How did you sleep?” you spoke before taking your first bite, humming in satisfaction as you rolled your eyes back to show the pleasure this food had caused your taste buds.

“I slept alright, if I’m honest, I just couldn’t get to sleep” he muttered, pulling your hand into his and twisting the rings that sat on your finger around, something he only did when he was really nervous.

“Tom? Are you okay?” you asked, worry overtaking as you turned to face him, he looked terrified, his knee was shaking and he looked like he was about to start sweating.

“Mhmm, I guess I just really need to talk to you about something” his voice was soft, turning his whole body to face you as he slipped something out of his pocket, a small black box.

“Yeah?” you tried to ignore the box, thinking maybe he was upset that an heirloom broke or something but part of you exploded, thinking ‘what if this is what I think it is’.

“Okay, here goes nothing,” he said, more to himself than to you. “Y/n, I love you, and you know that but, something has changed,” he paused, making your heart stop, did he want the small amethyst ring that he had given you years ago back, was he no longer in love with you? Pinky and thumb going to scratch at the metal band that now felt too hot against your skin.

“Last year, when we sat here in the kitchen and we hadn’t slept all night but you decided that you wanted to make breakfast before going to bed, you accidentally dropped the whipped cream on the floor and instead of clean it up or cry you sat down and dipped your strawberries in the part that wasn’t on the floor” he recounted that wild morning where all the both of you did was humor the others eccentricities, tears coming to your eyes in anticipation of what you truly believed to be happening. “I saw you and something in me clicked, all of the other times that we had of just being each other and going on adventures together came back and I realized that there is no one else that I would want to get lemonade with a 2 a.m. after getting late night noodles at that noodle express place in the financial district. Or that I would not have loved the night we found a rave randomly as much as I did if it was with anyone else” Your eyes searched his, tears now streaming down both of your faces. “There is no one in this world I would rather be myself with, you make me feel loved and cherished and like I am perfectly enough at whatever point in time.” he took a deep breath, opening the box to reveal a small ring that was surrounded by something else silver, a chain? “In short, you make my life what I want it to be and I want to spend the rest of my life doing my best to make you feel a fraction of how you make me feel, will you do me the honor and marry me?” he rushed it out but you caught every single word.

“You make me feel everything and more, Tom, of course I will marry you” you sobbed, it was a messy cry, snot on your top lip that you ignored, not caring anymore.

“Oh thank god,” he cried, pressing his lips to yoru in a tearstained kiss, joy radiating off of the both of you. His fingers reader for the small silver chain, placing it in the palm of your open hand making you look at him with eyes that asked what?

“Um, you already have rings on your engagement finger so I figured that you could put them on the chain and wear them around your neck cause they will be replaced” a grin found its place on your lips as he handed you the ring as well.

“I was, uh-hoping that the ring you would wear on you finger would be the engagement ring cause-” you cut off his rambling with your lips, hands wrapping around his neck as you pulled him close once again, you fingers making quick work of removing your other rings before pulling back, showing him your naked finger as you set your other rings aside, the clang of metal on marble beautiful to his ears, a sign of your devotion.

“Would you put it on me?” you questioned, holding the ring he had offered you just moments before out to him.

“Of course” he hummed, taking the ring and sliding it down on your finger before turning around, unclasping the chain and threading it through your past rings.

“Here, let me help you with this as well” his voice was melting you and your throat had closed with emotion, you could only nod. He leaned in, lips on lips again as his hands went around your neck this time, clasping your new jewelry on before pulling back, admiring his now soon to be spouse.

“I love you, future Holland” he mumbled, now fiddling with your engagement ring, but no longer out of anxiety, out of pure excitement.

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#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland one shot #tom holland x plus size reader #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #mob!tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #spider man #tom holland murder me #mae writes

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eliemo · 4 years ago

Text

Call Me When You're Sober

Summary: Remus tells Janus he loves him for the first time. Or at least...Janus thought he had.

TWs: alcohol usage in the beginning and talk about being drunk throughout, misunderstandings, hangovers

Notes: Human au, loosely based on a drawing from @underdog-arts their art is amazing go support their patreon.

Established romantic Demus/Dukeceit and background (very background) Prinxiety

“I’m not going to kiss you.”

Janus frowned, something that could probably be considered a pout with how out of it he was. He chased Remus’s mouth as the other man pulled away, one hand still carded through Janus’s hair.

His frown was definitely closer to a pout judging from the way Remus laughed out loud, eyes softening in a way anybody else rarely got to see, and Janus felt his cheeks flush even further. They’d been tinged with pink since his second drink (Remus hadn’t stopped pointing out the color in his face all night, adorably smitten by it) but at this point there was no way to blame his blush entirely on the alcohol.

“I’m not gonna kiss you, Jan,” Remus repeated, grinning insufferably when Janus slurred an illegible plea. “Not right now.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re drunk,” Remus said, moving his hands from Janus’s hair to keep him steady on the bar stool. “You won’t even remember any of this in the morning.”

“I will,” Janus protested, tongue slow and heavy in his mouth. “I always do.”

“Alright then, party animal.” Remus smirked, standing from the bar stool to drape one of Janus’s arms over his shoulder, helping him stagger to his feet. “Let’s get you home. Pat bought us an Uber.”

“But--”

“You can have a kiss when you’re sober,” Remus said, waving at a blurred shape Janus thought might be Patton. “Ok?”

Janus couldn't even make out his own reply, stumbling and leaning heavily against Remus’s side. He felt weightless, floating through the air, and it took him a moment to realize it was because Remus had picked him up and carried him out of the bar.

It felt like forever since he’d let himself get this drunk at a party before, and even longer since Remus had been the one sober enough to take care of things.

It was...nice. Really nice. Even if what rational thought he had left knew for a fact he would feel like shit tomorrow.

He was vaguely aware of Remus gently putting him in the backseat of a car and carefully following in after him, their hands loosely intertwined.

The driver said something before pulling away from the curb and driving off but Janus couldn’t make anything out, overcome by giddy exhaustion, and focused entirely on Remus.

He snorted when he caught Janus staring, and Janus knew he’d never get Remus to admit to blushing at the attention.

Janus leaned into the touch when Remus carefully framed his face, running his thumbs along his cheekbones, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

Nobody else got to see Remus like this, thoughtful and loving and gentle. It was rare, but Janus always felt honored in some way. Even if he was so drunk he could barely comprehend it.

Remus suddenly leaned closer to press a gentle kiss to Janus’s forehead, slow and careful, one hand still cupping his jaw. He pulled back, just barely lit up by the passing streetlights, gaze soft as he looked Janus over.

“I love you,” he said for the first time, and Janus’s heart soared. “And I know you won’t remember this tomorrow.”

His face was beginning to ache with how much he was grinning, replaying the words over and over again in his head despite the fog weighing him down. Janus fell into Remus’s chest and shut his eyes to the sound of the car’s engine, trusting Remus to get them home safe.

---

Janus unfortunately did remember the night before, blurred and distant as it was, and that last conversation with Remus was the only thing keeping Janus from swearing off alcohol for the rest of his life.

His head was pounding, the light filtering in from the window felt like someone was poking knives in his skull, and every time he tried to sit up every single bone in his body violently protested, stomach lurching dangerously.

But he couldn’t even be annoyed at any of that right now.

Remus had said he loved him for the first time last night, holding his face like the most precious thing in the world, and that was the only thing on Janus’s mind.

He’d known Remus loved him. Or at least, he’d assumed. Remus tended to show love every way except verbal. It had taken some getting used to, insecurities Janus refused to voice always making him doubt that Remus actually felt the same, despite them dating for months and being friends for longer.

But Remus had said it last night. Remus had kissed Janus’s forehead and looked at him with soft fondness and told him he loved him.

He loved Janus.

And he had assumed Janus would be too drunk to remember, which meant he got to mercilessly tease Remus for the rest of the day about it.

Janus forced himself out of bed, noting with a small smile the water bottle that had been left on the bedside table. He could hear some commotion from the other room, probably Remus looking for food in the kitchen.

He sipped at the water, untangled himself from the sheets and slowly stumbled to his dresser to get a change of clothes. As uncomfortable as sleeping in jeans was, he appreciated Remus not changing him into pajamas while he was passed out.

When he felt human enough to leave his bedroom, wrapped up in sweats and a flannel, Janus slipped out of his bedroom and padded down the hall where Remus was sprawled out on Janus’s couch with a half eaten poptart on the coffee table.

“You could have slept in the bed, you know.”

Remus grinned up at him, disheveled and probably a bit sore. “Yeah well, you smelled gross.”

Janus knew Remus would never admit he just hadn’t been sure he was allowed, if Janus would be comfortable with someone sleeping next to him without clear permission.

Remus had a brass sense of humor, he was forward and grossly affectionate in public, but he was always so careful with Janus. There were so many unspoken questions, silent searches for approval, and private check-ins.

“You’re cute,” Janus said, grinning when Remus stuck his tongue out. “Do I get my kiss now?”

Something unreadable flashed in Remus’s eyes, and Janus assumed it was the realization Janus hadn’t been drunk enough to completely forget the night before.

It was gone in an instant, and Remus pushed himself up off the couch to shuffle across the small room, gather Janus in his arms, pull him close and kiss him just like he’d wanted the night before.

Remus pulled away with a wink that made Janus scowl playfully, and made his way to the connected kitchen. “I can’t figure out how to work your coffee maker.”

“If you break anything else in my kitchen I’m killing you.” Remus had managed to break his old toaster when they’d first started dating, and Janus never planned on letting him live it down. “I’ll make you some.”

Remus jumped up on the counter, watching Janus refill the pitcher in the sink and grab the coffee grinds from the counter, eventually distracted by scrolling through his phone while the pot brewed.

“Hey,” Janus called when it was done, smirking when Remus hummed nonchalantly. “Did you tell me you loved me last night?”

Remus jumped and nearly dropped his phone, fumbling for a second before managing to put it down on the counter, hands ridiculously unsteady.

Janus expected the momentary surprise, but he didn’t expect Remus to bark out a panicked laugh and shake his head.

“What? No.” He scoffed, swinging his legs over the side of the counter. “I didn’t say that. Jeez how much did you drink, Jan?”

Oh.

He’d been ready for a bit of embarrassed denial, some teasing and flirting that had become normal between them. Last night had made Janus stupidly happy- happier than he remembered being in months- but Remus had jumped straight to denying it, like it was the most ridiculous thing in the entire world.

He suddenly felt cold, and a little bit like someone had shoved him to the floor. He quickly averted his gaze so Remus wouldn’t see how much that had hurt.

“Right,” he said, sliding Remus his mug of coffee. “Yeah, duh. Sorry. I was...super out of it.”

“It’s cool.”

Janus didn’t know what he was supposed to say now. There was a lump growing in his throat, something a little more crushing than simple disappointment weighing down on his chest.

“I’m...gonna make some food,” he said after a few seconds of unnatural silence. “We still have those frozen waffles, you want any?”

“Sure.”

Remus was being abnormally curt and dismissive, and Janus could practically see him searching for an excuse to escape the tense atmosphere that had never existed between them before.

“I, uh, have a change of clothes in my bag,” Remus said, waving a hand at the hallway. “I’m gonna go get dressed.”

Janus nodded, not trusting himself to speak as he went to rummage through the freezer to hopefully distract himself with making breakfast once Remus disappeared.

This wasn’t a big deal. He could blame his suddenly blurry vision on the hangover.

He’d...really thought he remembered last night. He could still feel Remus’s hands in his hair and that stupidly sweet smile on his lips when he refused to kiss him when he was drunk.

He remembered the pink blush on his nose when he’d said those three words, quiet like they were in their own little world that night. The scene had been replaying over and over in his head until he fell asleep, and had picked right back up when Janus had woken up.

It had felt so real. He’d thought...he’d thought it was real. He thought he’d finally be able to say it freely without worrying about moving too fast for Remus.

It was possible it could have all been a dream, but...

But Remus had answered so quickly. He’d been so adamant about how he hadn’t told Janus he loved him. Like he would never even consider doing such a thing.

Which...which was fine. Janus wasn’t going to hold Remus’s feelings against him, and he certainly wasn’t going to make a big deal about it.

He’d just been mistaken assuming he and Remus wanted the same kind of relationship. Janus loved Remus and Remus...didn’t. Janus wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted, but he’d made his feelings on the matter pretty clear today.

Janus had just been too blind to realize it after months of spending nearly every waking moment together.

That was fine. It was a stupid misunderstanding. Janus wasn’t going to cry like a heartbroken idiot just because Remus didn’t love him back.

He hissed out a curse under his breath when almost immediately there were tears slipping down his cheeks, and Janus pressed a hand firmly to his mouth to muffle the sobs that tried to escape.

He was so stupid. It wasn’t like this was the first time this had happened, Janus figured he would have been able to see the signs by now. People just didn’t want him like that.

He’d just...really thought Remus was different.

He didn’t think he would ever laugh off the idea of loving Janus.

Janus wrapped his free arm around himself, swaying slightly in the middle of the kitchen as he stared blankly at the toaster, trying and failing to get himself to suck it up and stop crying.

He was being ridiculous- shaking with the force of trying to hold back his sobbing, blinded by endless tears gathering in his eyes and flowing down his cheeks- and he needed to get a hold of himself before-

“Woah, what the fuck?”

Janus jumped, refusing to look at Remus standing in the hallway as he quickly tried to wipe his tears away with the palms of his hands. “Do you want syrup?”

He heard Remus move closer and kept his head down, staring resolutely at the kitchen tiles until he could see socked feet step into the room.

He still didn’t touch Janus, still so focused on his comfort (was any of it even for Janus’s comfort? Maybe Remus just hadn’t wanted to touch him this whole time) but he moved as close as he dared and lowered his voice.

“Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying,” Janus said automatically, choking on another hiccuping sob. “I just...have a headache. Stupid hangover.”

“Oh.” Remus hesitated, and Janus could feel him staring. “Did you take an ibuprofen? I can get you a couple from the bathroom. And like...gatorade. You still have some, right?”

Janus nodded and took a shaky breath, hating the way the tears still wouldn’t stop falling. “Yeah. In the fridge.”

“Good,” Remus said, and Janus still couldn’t bring himself to look him in the eyes. “I don’t want you hurting.”

“I’m fine. Just drank too much.”

“You were pretty drunk.”

“I don’t remember last night at all,” Janus said, more bitter than was probably necessary. “Clearly.”

It was enough to give Remus pause, plunging the kitchen into heavy silence. Janus crossed his arms and risked a glance up when he awkwardly cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Anyways, gatorade—”

“I can get it.”

“No, I got it,” Remus said, and Janus watched warily as he pulled out a chair from the table. “Sit down.”

Janus hunched his shoulders, tears still sliding down his jaw just as fast as before, but he did as Remus said and shakily made his way over to the table, lowering himself carefully until he could curl up in his chair.

Remus returned almost immediately with a bottle of blue gatorade from the fridge and two painkillers from the bathroom medicine cabinet. He handed them over silently, standing awkwardly by the table while Janus took them.

Janus did his best, carefully swallowing the pills and sipping the gatorade with shaky hands. But he couldn’t get himself to stop crying, or even slow his tears, wracked with seemingly never ending sobs no matter how hard he tried to get a hold of himself. Remus standing there just made it so much worse.

He saw Remus crouch down to Janus’s level, breaths only coming out more frantic when Remus frowned and moved to hold Janus’s face in his hands.

“C’mon,” Remus said softly, brushing Janus’s cheeks with his thumbs. “What’re you crying for?”

Janus couldn’t answer. Remus sounded so gentle and adoring and it only made him cry harder, choking on a pathetic whimper as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Hey, hey, you’re ok.” Remus kept wiping Janus’s tears, his touch light and grounding. “It’s just me, Jan. You can tell me.”

Janus shook his head, weakly clutching at Remus’s sleeves. “N-no, I’m just...I’m being an idiot. Go get your waffles.”

Remus didn’t move, and Janus could practically feel him staring. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m being stupid,” Janus insisted, because he was. He knew he was. “I sw-swear I just...you don’t want to deal with this right now.”

“I’ll be fine, Jan. Tell me what happened.”

Remus kept brushing his tears away, warm and gentle, and Janus couldn’t catch his breath. Maybe there was a way he could fix this, get Remus to change his mind, or at least understand how he’d misread everything so horribly.

Janus finally managed to take a shaky breath, loosening his hold on Remus’s arms. “Did...did I do something wrong?”

“Wh- no?” Remus frowned, straightening a little to try and look Janus in the eyes. “You didn’t do anything.”

“You just,” Janus hesitated, wondering if it would be easier if he just gave up and dropped it. “You answered really fast when I asked about last night.”

Realization dawned on Remus’s face, and Janus’s heart dropped when he suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Oh.”

“I get it,” Janus said quickly, because now Remus was the one refusing to meet his gaze. “I do, it’s fine. I just...didn’t know if I had done something, or—”

He cut himself off when Remus suddenly pulled back, taking his comforting warmth with him, leaving Janus feeling frigid and empty.

He curled in on himself, wondering if at this point it would be a better idea just to kick Remus out of his apartment so they could start over and pretend none of this ever happened.

“It’s not...you- you didn’t...” Remus was stumbling over his own words, shuffling uncomfortably where he stood, and each attempt to explain only crushed Janus further. “It isn’t—”

“Yeah, no I get it,” Janus snapped, any venom overshadowed by the misery in his tone. He was hurt and tired and he just wanted to go back to bed. “It’s fine, Remus.”

“No, I’m—”

“I said I get it! It’s ok, I...I shouldn’t even have asked.”

“I lied.” Remus wasn’t looking at him, his back turned to Janus as he pulled and fiddled with his chain necklace. “Sorry.”

“Oh.” Janus...suddenly wasn’t sure what to say. “That you...loved me? Or that you didn’t say it.”

“That I didn’t say it,” Remus confessed, and Janus’s tears started to slow. “I, uh...I did. I said it.”

Janus didn’t move, terrified that he might somehow break the illusion and Remus would turn around laughing again, waving off any silly ideas of love or commitment.

“Did you mean it?” he asked carefully, hating how shaky his voice was. “If you were drunk we can just drop it.”

“I wasn’t drunk,” Remus said. He sighed, running a hand over his face, still turned away. “Yeah, I...I meant it.”

“Oh.” Janus expected to feel relieved, but now Remus was shaking too, and he still wouldn’t turn around, and Janus just felt scared and numb. “Why did you—”

“Because I wasn’t ready,” Remus blurted. “I don’t...I don’t know if I’m ready, and I don’t know if you...I didn’t think you would remember. It’s...it’s a huge jump, Jan. And usually I’m all for being impulsive, you know that, but you just...this is different. You deserve better than that.”

Janus wiped once more at his eyes, but something had loosened a bit in his chest at Remus’s words, the other man still tense and refusing to look up from the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, rubbing his sleeve over his face until his eyes burned. “I shouldn’t have pushed, I just thought...something else.”

“What?” Remus finally turned to face him, but his confusion only lasted a moment before his eyes widened. “Oh, fuck I didn’t even...I didn’t think about your feelings. Shit, I’m- I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“No, Remus it’s fine—”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Remus pressed, running a shaky hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

“I jumped to conclusions,” Janus said, trying to sound casual despite how his face was stained with tears and it felt like he’d just been punched in the chest. “It’s ok.”

Remus nodded, though he still seemed a little frantic. “We can just...ignore this. If you want to.”

Janus wasn’t sure how he felt about that solution, but he wasn’t going to push Remus out of his comfort zone any more than he already had today. “Is that what you want to do?”

“I don’t want to make you...uncomfortable,” Remus said slowly, and he smirked at the irony of his own words. “Not with this, anyway. Feelings are fucking gross and dumb and I know you don’t want any part of that, and I’m really sorry.”

“What?” Janus sat up a little straighter, wondering how he’d managed to find someone just as stupid as he was. “No, Remus—”

“I understand!” Remus kept going, barrelling over whatever Janus had been about to say. “Like, obviously I understand. I’m awful but I’m not gonna—”

“God, you’re such a dumbass.” Janus scrubbed a hand over his face, smiling into his palm. “I was upset because I thought you didn’t love me.”

Remus froze, staring with wide eyes like Janus had just said spoken in a foreign language. “Oh.”

“You answered so fast when I asked you,” Janus explained. “I thought I did something to fuck this up. Or that I’d just...misunderstood your intentions.”

“You didn’t,” Remus said. “I was- you know. Just scared.”

Janus nodded, forcing himself to take a deep breath and look Remus in the eyes. “I know. I...I know. I love you.”

Remus’s head snapped up. “You do?”

Janus actually laughed outright at the shock on Remus’s face, like a child that had just been told he was getting his first puppy. “Yeah. Fuck, yeah of course I do, Remus.”

“For real?” Remus asked, even as a huge grin began to take over his face. “Like no joke? You’re not fucking with me?”

“Well, I did think it was obvious,” Janus said, and he couldn’t help but match Remus’s smile. “I love you, you idiot.”

“Me? Shit, Jan, you need higher standards, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude.” Janus took another sip of his gatorade to hide his obvious smile. “I literally just confessed to you.”

“You confessed to having horrible taste.”

“I love you,” Janus said again, because Remus was blushing and he was absolutely using this to his advantage. “Obviously. I’m sitting here crying at ten in the morning because I thought you didn’t.”

Remus had the decency to look embarrassed, another thing almost no one besides Janus got to see. “You could have been crying because you were hungover.”

“No. I was heartbroken, dumbass.”

Remus made a face like he’d tasted something sour. “That’s gross.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Janus scoffed, capping and pushing away his drink. “You said you loved me first.”

“Gross, don’t bring it up,” Remus said, and Janus smirked as he pushed himself to his feet. “I sound like a sap.”

Janus laughed, moving to wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s (Boyfriend? They’d have to talk about that one later) waist and rest his head in the crook of Remus’s neck. “You told me you loved me. While I was drunk.”

“You cannot tell anyone.”

Janus scoffed, having no intention of honoring that wish. “Why not?”

“Because,” Remus said. “It makes me sound gross and gay.”

“You’ve always been gross and gay.” Janus pulled back, just enough to grin at him. “Besides, you’ve been teasing Roman about Virgil for months.”

“He deserves it,” Remus declared. “He needs to get over himself.”

“At least he doesn’t confess to people while they’re drunk and then lie about it the next day.”

Remus’s blush deepened and Janus finally relented. He leaned forward to press a kiss to the corner of Remus’s lips- which quickly turned into something deeper when Remus moved to capture the rest of his mouth and pull him closer.

He only pulled away when he realized he'd started crying again, the relief that Remus loved him, that he hadn’t been wrong, that he wasn’t losing what they had, hitting all at once.

Janus shuddered and struggled to catch his breath, his breathing coming out in quick gasps again, and he clung onto Remus’s shirt like a lifeline.

“Oh, shit.” Remus’s eyes went wide in panic, and Janus found himself laughing around the tears. “Sorry, I didn’t—”

“You’re ok,” Janus assured him, leaning forward again to rest his head on Remus’s shoulder. Remus didn’t hesitate before wrapping his arms around him. “I just...really thought I was losing you.”

“You’re not. I’m still here.”

“I know,” Janus said. He was overwhelmed and exhausted and he’d never been awake this long with a hangover. “The ibuprofen didn’t help either.”

Remus had one hand carding through his hair, the other cupping his jaw as he pressed a kiss to Janus’s forehead. Just like he had last night when he’d told Janus he loved him.

When he’d told Janus he loved him and meant it.

“We should get you back to bed,” Remus said, every bit as adoring as he’d been when Janus was too drunk to stand. “How about I bring you your waffles and we can put on a movie?”

“You’re going to get crumbs in my bed again.”

“No I’m not.” Janus didn’t even get a chance to protest further before Remus had his arms around his waist, hoisting him into the air and over his shoulder. “And you’re too hungover to stop me.”

Janus couldn’t argue with that, relaxing into Remus’s hold as he carried him down the hall and back into the dimly lit bedroom, the darkness already soothing his pounding head.

Remus set him down on the bed, kissed him again for good measure, and returned a moment later with the waffles Janus had left in the toaster. He put the plate on the nightstand beside the half empty water bottle, and settled in beside Janus.

He didn’t even pay attention to Remus’s laptop opening, or the waffle that was offered to him. Janus just wrapped his arms around Remus and rested his head on his chest.

“You’ll stay with me?” Janus asked, already drifting off to the smell of waffles and the clicking of Remus’s keyboard.

“I never planned on leaving,” Remus said, muffled from where he’d pressed his nose into Janus’s hair. “And I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

Janus muttered something even he couldn’t make out, letting his eyes slip shut, breaths steadying in sync to Remus’s own.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later, when he must have thought Janus was already asleep, that Remus began running his fingers through Janus’s hair again, leaning forward to press one last kiss to his temple.

“I love you too,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I love you, Janus.”

Janus smiled, content with letting Remus believe he’d fallen asleep before he could hear the words. Just this once.

People who asked to be tagged for this one:

@self-taught-mess @hannahdra-ws

#sanders sides #romantic demus #romantic dukeceit #ts janus #ts remus #alcohol tw #kissing tw #misunderstandings #miscommunication #fanficiton #writing #human au

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seijorhi · 4 years ago

Text

Cry-Baby

A commissioned continuation of this soulmate AU by the lovely @pokemonfreak666 - thanks for your patience, bby!!

Bakugou Katsuki x Female Reader, Kirishima Eijiro x Female Reader

TW non-con, nsfw, double penetration, rough fucking, minor mentions of blood, kidnapping

The water’s not hot enough.

It should be; it should burn. The knob’s twisted all the way up, steam rising in billowing clouds, fogging up the bathroom mirror, but it’s not hot enough. You can still feel them on you. Everything else – the blood, saliva, their cum, you’d watched it swirl down the drain, sitting on the shower floor, arms curled tightly around yourself as if that was the only thing keeping you from falling apart and shattering entirely.

But the water’s scalding, and you can still feel your soulmates’ hands crawling over you… their mouths… their cocks tearing you apart from the inside out. Why won’t it wash away? You’ve scrubbed and scrubbed, your skin’s red and raw but the filthy feeling won’t go.

And they’re just outside. Sitting in your bedroom, or maybe wandering around your living room, sprawled across your couch flipping through channels on the TV. Maybe they’re out there looking at the pictures that line your walls, you and your family, your friends. Fuck, maybe they’re in your kitchen, rifling through your fridge for a late night snack after fucking their soulmate six ways from Sunday.

You can’t go back out there. You don’t want to see them.

Is it awful to hope for some kind of horrifying villain attack or massive accident to force them to go and leave you in peace?

… Would they?

You can’t imagine Pro Heroes not running off to do their duty, but before a few hours ago, you couldn’t imagine them holding somebody down and raping them either, and clearly they had no qualms about doing that, so maybe your Heroes aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.

Then again, what difference would leaving make? They know where you live, probably where you work. There’s no anonymity anymore, it’s not like you can just slip away and hide from them.

You’ve been in the bathroom too long already, you know that – you can almost feel their anxious energy seeping through the crack in the door. Too much longer and they’ll surely come bursting in.

Patience clearly wasn’t their strong point, and it’s nothing short of a miracle they let you come in and shower alone. Kirishima at least had been more than eager to come join you, grinning widely and tugging you by the arm towards the bathroom– it’d been Bakugou, watching you pale and flinch through red, unreadable eyes who’d reined him back in.

Maybe he saw how scared you were, how fragile the thread that was holding you together was. Maybe he thought that gifting you these precious minutes alone after what they did would in any way come close to starting to mend the damage they’d just wrought.

Maybe he just hadn’t cared enough beyond getting his dick wet.

You’d grown up thinking your soulmates would make you happy, love you in a way that nobody else ever could. The possibility of ever deliberately hurting them seemed like such a foreign and uncomfortable concept to you. But obviously they didn’t care enough about your feelings or your lack of consent to stop them from forcing themselves onto you, maybe you were nothing but an object to them. Something to take and fuck, because naturally you were made for them.

What did it matter if you didn’t want it?

Your eyes drift down to the timers on your wrists, run down to zero. A quaking sob rips from your throat and you bite down harshly on your bottom lip to stifle it.

“Why am I even here? In less than an hour you’re gonna meet them, and what am I supposed to do then, hmm?” your friend had asked with a laugh. “Be the world’s most awkward fourth wheel?”

You’d laughed with her, knocking your shoulders against hers with a fond little smile, “Well if they’re gonna be in my life for the long haul, don't you think it’s important that they meet the person who matters to me the most right off the bat?”

You’re terrified of going back out there and facing them, but what other option do you have? The only window in the bathroom is too high and too small to squeeze through, and even if you could, getting an apartment on the seventh floor had seemed like a great idea at the time, but it doesn’t exactly lend itself to an easy getaway.

The flimsy lock on the bathroom door is all that’s keeping them out – with their strength it’s hardly much of a barrier at all, but it’s all you have.

Here in your bathroom, under the scalding water, you’re safe. They can’t hurt you.

You’d like to think that now they’ve gotten what they wanted, now that they know that you can’t run and their reputations can’t be tarnished, they’ll go. And there’s a little voice inside your head that tells you it’s a stupid, foolish hope. You know that the moment you set foot outside that door, things’ll never be the same again.

A few years back, you read an article on some tabloid website about an up and coming Hero who’d disappeared out of the blue after joining Hawks’ agency as an intern. Supposedly, they were soulmates, and once the Pro realised it, he’d swooped her up and taken her to some secret safe house to hide her away from the rest of the world, supposedly ‘for her own protection’. It was all rumours, of course. No way for them to actually prove the theory – and no one actually cared about some missing, low level Hero at the end of the day. It was news for a week and then everybody moved on.

Are they gonna do the same thing to you?

Spirit you away to some hideout where they can keep you all to themselves – so they can fuck you whenever they want without having to worry about you running off? You’ll never see your family again, or your friends… they’ll be your entire world, and just like that intern, everybody else will forget you ever existed.

Or maybe they’ll be satisfied enough just forcing themselves into your life, letting you go back to your job, your boring, mundane nine to five, never knowing when they’re going to pop up and take what they want. They’ll come over and play house, acting as if this is a normal relationship, waiting for you to come around and accept them.

Love them.

The thoughts makes bile rise in your throat. Your entire body aches from inside out. There’s bitemarks and bruises littering your skin, marks that won’t fade for days… you can’t let them do this to you again.

As if they can hear your panicked thoughts, a knock sounds on the bathroom door, and your heart clenches.

“Hey, babe?” Kirishima calls out, “You okay? You’ve kinda been in there a while…”

That same voice, chanting breathlessly above you, “I love you, I love you– f-fuck– I love you!”

Panic, cloying and sharp tears at you. You try to answer, tell him to leave you alone, that you need more time, but the words catch in your throat and all that comes out is a pitiful squeak and he knocks again, louder, more insistent and it’s too much.

They're gonna break down the door and hurt you again. Hot tears well up and spill down your cheeks with an audible sob, and you clutch at yourself tighter, willing them away–

“Babe? Talk to us, sweetheart, you’re making us worried.”

The door handle jiggles insistently, and you bury your face between your knees breathing rapidly, they’re gonna break it down, they’re gonna break it down, they’re gonna–

“Move, Kiri,” Bakugou snaps.

You don’t register the snap of the lock breaking or the frantic footsteps that approach, the harsh sound of your heaving gasps drowning out all else. Then suddenly there’s strong, muscular arms pulling you out from the water with a muffled curse.

It’s Kirishima who’s holding you, you realise as a flash of blond darts back behind you to turn the shower off. And it’s suffocating, the way he clutches at you, big hands running along your back, pulling you closer, holding you tighter, words of comfort you can’t hear over the pounding of your own heart spilling from his lips.

And then Bakugou’s face is filling your vision, the scowl on his face growing more pronounced as he studies you – shaking, teary, eyes wide and swimming with fear–

Something inside of you just gives and you don’t fight it when the darkness swallows you whole.

—

When you come to, you’re lying on something soft – a bed, you realise, but not your own. There’s an arm slung over your waist; corded with muscles, tan, covered in fine, golden hair and faint white scars; Bakugou’s.

Which means that the warm breath gently tickling at your neck must belong to him as well.

You’re not naked at least; a quick glance down at your body revealing they’d dressed you in one of your old tees and a pair of panties. You’re not sure whether that observation is supposed to calm or unnerve you; you’d rather be clothed than not, but the thought of your soulmates rifling through your things, dressing you while you were unconscious… is not a pleasant one.

“You’re awake.” It’s an observation, not a question. His voice is gruff, an edge of sleepiness clinging to the words, but it lacks the heat you’ve come to expect from the explosive Hero. He sounds comfortable almost – at least that’s the sense you get as his face presses up against the nape of your neck, his arm drawing you closer with a low groan.

Still, you haven’t uttered a sound.

It feels surreal, lying there in your captor’s arms – and he is your captor, soulmate or no, there’s no denying that fact anymore. There’s a part of you that realises that you should be panicking, kicking scratching and clawing because you don’t know where you are, but it’s certainly not your apartment and you definitely don’t want him touching you after what he’s already put you through.

But rather than the sheer, unrelenting panic that had gripped you before, it’s just… nothing. Dormant, lying simmering just below the surface, and you’re almost scared to draw breath, to shatter the sweet, tender facade between the two of you.

There’s no point in asking where you are, no point in demanding he let you go. They’ve shown you that what you want doesn’t matter here, so instead you ask the obvious question.

“Where’s Kirishima?”

Bakugou grunts, burrowing himself closer. It’s not cold in the room, but his bare skin burns like a furnace, just on the wrong side of comfortable. “Makin’ breakfast.”

Breakfast.

You swallow tightly, but Bakugou isn’t done.

“Scared the shit out of us, fainting like that,” he scoffs. “Should’a fuckin’ known you’d need us to come take care of you.”

His fingers, resting over your stomach, dip lower, sliding roughly beneath the hem of your panties as he grinds his hips along your ass. He’s hard already, you can feel every inch of it, long and thick pressing insistently up against you.

Shame and indignation flare up like a match struck, but before you can even open your mouth to snap a retort, Bakugou yanks his hand out of your underwear to stuff his fingers inside your mouth.

Your first instinct is to bite down, but the blond at your back just growls, “Suck,” and you’re not stupid enough to think that hurting him (or trying to at least) is going to stop what’s about to happen.

Or maybe you’re just scared to test exactly how far you can push them before they really hurt you.

Obediently, your tongue swirls around his thick digits, hollowing out your cheeks and earning a grunt of appreciation from your soulmate.

“Always thought that my soulmate was gonna be someone strong,” he mutters, his hips still rocking up against yours. “Somebody who could keep up with Kiri ‘n me, hold their own in a fight. Never thought you’d be some weak as shit, quirkless little cry-baby.”

It stings more than it has any right to.

Slowly, his fingers slide from your lips, a long, thin glistening strand of saliva connecting the two. It’s hard to fight the whine that escapes you as they return to your pussy, angrily shoving aside your panties before thinking better of it and ripping them off of you completely. The warm puff of breath that ghosts across your skin sends shivers down your spine, and though you can’t see his face when he speaks next you can tell that he’s grinning.

“But fuck, sweetheart, you’re goddamn perfect – everythin’ we didn’t know we needed.”

He kisses you as his index and middle fingers plunge eagerly into your cunt, not the rough, biting kisses he’d gifted you with the night before, no. These are almost tender, sweet – or at least as sweet as a monster like Bakugou is capable of – entirely at odds with way his calloused fingers curl inside of you, fucking you, stretching you out while he cruelly thumbs at your clit.

Katsuki wants you strung out and whining for him. For Kirishima.

He wants you helpless.

“We’re gonna keep you nice ‘n safe, baby. Won’t have to worry about a goddamn fucking thing ‘cept keepin’ your soulmates happy.”

It sounds more like the passing of a sentence than a reassurance, but you can’t tell him that you don’t want this. He knows – he has to by now. He just doesn't care.

You don’t hear it when Kiri comes back, not when Bakugou’s sucking at your neck, your pussy throbbing with need as his fingers drive relentlessly into you, hitting your g-spot with every flick of his wrist.

You might not have noticed the redhead lingering in the doorway, his cock tenting in his pants, eyes dark and glazed over as he watches the show unfolding before him, but Bakugou certainly does.

“Oi, shitty hair. You just gonna stand there and watch or are you actually gonna fucking do something?” His voice is rough and a little breathless, closer to a growl than speech – it makes your gut clench, a shiver run down along your spine.

When your eyes finally do meet Kirishima’s, your heart squeezes, your stomach flipping. Kirishima’s staring at you like a wolf readying itself to pounce, like he wants to devour every inch of you and savour the taste.

He grins widely, pink tongue darting out to lick his lips.

Bakugou’s the one with the bad reputation – as explosive as his quirk, brash at the best of times and overly aggressive even with his friends – you have every reason to be terrified of him, even before he broke into your home to take you.

Kirishima might be kinder, gentler with his touches (at least, he tries to be), but you’re a fool if you think you’re any safer with the redhead.

“Thought you said you were gonna wait,” he says, advancing towards the two of you as he kicks out of his shorts, but the grin on his face doesn’t waver for a second. He’s not nearly as put out as he pretends. “I could hear the pretty little thing moaning all the way in the kitchen.”

Shame would be enough to flood your cheeks with heat, but it’s the sight of Kiri’s cock, flushed an angry red, veiny and thick, hanging heavy between his muscular thighs that does the job. The spit in your mouth dries, your heart thumping unevenly even as pleasure pools in your gut courtesy of Bakugou’s attention. You let out a sharp shriek as he quickens his pace, one hand reaching to grab at his wrist, the other clutching desperately for purchase at the bedsheets, but it’s not enough.

Heat burns at your core, and unwittingly, you find your hips bucking up against him, fervently searching for more.

At your back, the blond chuckles, you feel the deep vibrations echoing through your chest, “Yeah, well you were taking too long.”

There might be more that he says, but at that moment he slides a third finger into your dripping cunt, calloused fingertips slamming against your tight, gummy walls and you’re robbed of the ability to think.

Your first orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, the building pleasure snapping like an elastic band stretched too far. A strangled moan slips out of your lips, and you don’t even notice the teeth sinking into your shoulder, Bakugou once more staking his claim as you cum for him. You quiver and quake in his grip, your cunt tightening around his digits and sucking them in further with a lewd squelching sound that you might be more embarrassed about if you could focus on anything but the pleasurable aftershocks of your peak.

All the while, Kirishima drinks you in, salivating at the sight of your drooling, fucked out expression, the syrupy slick that’s all but dripping out around Bakugou’s thick fingers, still stuffed deep inside of your pussy.

And maybe if he were a better man, he might allow you a moment to breathe and hurtle back down to earth, but patience has never been a virtue of his. He lunges forward faster than a man of his size has any right to, jumping onto the bed and all but tearing you out of Bakugou’s hold. You’re still reeling, panting and sore and dizzy with pleasure as Kirishima’s lips crash against yours, stealing what little breath you have left in a burning kiss.

Your attention’s caught on the way his tongue’s sliding against yours, trying to coax you into kissing back, the sharp, minty taste of him – you miss the way he grasps at his flushed, leaking cock, dragging it along your puffy slit. You miss the sound of Bakugou shedding his own pants.

You’re still weakly trying to push at his chest when Kiri slides his cock into your warm, welcoming cunt, his low, guttural moan lost to your lips. And despite Bakugou’s attempts at preparing you, it still burns, the sheer girth of his fat cock filling you up and stretching you uncomfortably. Tears sting at your eyes, a whimper catching in your throat as he hums in pleasure, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer, impaling you further onto his length.

Yet you’re not given a moment to accommodate the massive cock inside of you – not as you feel another blunt, flushed cockhead pressing up against your already stuffed pussy. Realisation hits a moment too late, your face blanching, your heart skipping a beat as panic – sheer panic – chokes at you.

You try to push back from Kiri’s embrace, only to feel Bakugou once again pressing up against your back, trapping you between them. You squirm in vain, trying to kick and push, fighting even as the blond’s cock, not as girthy as Kirishima’s but still far too big for you to take with Kiri still inside of you, starts to force its way into your plush, velvety walls.

“F-fuck, she’s tight,” he grunts as you arch up against Kiri, your tits, still covered by your thin, cotton tee, squishing up against his bare chest in an attempt to writhe away from the overwhelming feeling of fullness, the burning, stinging, throbbing pain between your legs.

But your soulmates are far from considerate, not even as you start to wail, your nails raking down the redhead’s broad shoulders.

“Your pussy’s a fuckin’ dream,” he continues, swearing with a hiss as he finally bottoms out.

It’s too much, you feel like you’re being split in two. Every twitch and throb of their dicks, every vein, every inch of them is pressed too tightly against you, your walls struggling to take them both. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, oh god it hurts so fucking bad, but neither one of them care as you start to sob–

No, Kiri just kisses away your tears, taking your face in his large hands and cooing sweetly when you beg them through gasping, heaving sobs to stop.

“You’re doing so good for us, baby. Look how well you’re taking our cocks – it’s like you were made for us,” he laughs at his own stupid joke, and all you can focus on is the pain as he starts to draw his hips back, your oversensitive walls screaming in protest. “We’re gonna make you feel so fucking amazing, just wait.”

And it’s not his wide, beaming grin that shatters you, or even the hunger blazing in those crimson depths. It’s not Bakugou panting at your back, his hands coming up to shove your top up so he can palm greedily at your tits, or even the lewd almost feral sounds the explosion Hero’s making as he and Kirishima settle into a maddening rhythm, not allowing you a moment to catch your breath and steady yourself as they fuck you.

No, it’s the sheer, feverish love you can see written across his face clear as day, the softness with which he holds you, even as he chases his own pleasure.

This is their version of love, and you – quirkless, weak as shit and entirely at their mercy – have no hope in hell of escaping it.

#yandere bnha #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere kirishima eijiro #yandere bakugou katuski x reader #yandere kirishima eijiro x reader #yandere bakugou x reader #yandere kirishima x reader #tw non con #tw kidnapping #tw blood #it's like one mention but still #me posting this when my dash is dead instead of at 2am #more likely than you think

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lantsovsupremacist · 3 years ago

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nikolai lantsov: maybe

this was going to be smut and it still is but i apologize i went from listening to dress to hope ur okay so it’s all over the place here with angst.

warning of some swear words? some smut (fem receiving). mentions of drinking and getting drunk. pre-sab.

at eighteen, the world was dizzying with overwhelming opportunity.

the age held the anticipation of beginning a life of your own. sure, the second army owned you even more now than before, but your night of graduation from the little palace’s grisha school still excited you. the fancy sapphire dress gifted to you by the royals reminded you of the waves glittering at night under the moonlight, an obvious nod to your role as a tide maker.

the two glasses of champagne at dinner went down like water. you turned corner after corner in your head to give chase but you could not find even the slightest buzz. with a frown, you kicked open the back door of the kitchen and quietly slipped inside.

the only source of light crept across the floor, directing you to the back. the muted colors surrounding you became brighter the further you walked. you smile expanded.

“little late to your own party aren’t we now?”

your eyes rolled around in your head before settling on the slouched body of the blonde prince, barely upright against a crate. taking quick steps to meet him in the corner, you shoved his legs aside for the extra room. the clear bottle of what you assumed from his breath to be kvas made its way into your hands.

“fuck you, nikolai. you obviously had no problem starting without me.”

a lazy and crooked smirk crept onto his face. it righted itself into a small smile as he watched you down more than a shot’s worth straight from the source. maybe it was simply because of the warmth from the booze, but he swore your knuckles chilled him as they passed over his on their mission to grasp the neck of the bottle.

you minded his touch with the suppression of a shudder. you had yet to consume enough alcohol to relax into it. instead, you examined his own outfit. whatever sophistication he had been meant to pull off was lost on his now untucked shirt and crooked tie.

the delicate knit of his brows whenever he finished laughing could never change, though. even when the prince was more commonly referred to as sobachka than nikolai and you could barely muster a change of moisture in the air, the expressions of your best friend remained steadfast. you took the constant as a comfort.

you kicked off of your heels, climbing onto the counter rather gracefully and snagging a bottle of something stronger. he stepped up to watch you and eyed your footing warily. when you opened one of the bottles and threw your head back at the smell, he knew you had found exactly what the both of you were looking for. he offered you a hand down, which you accepted gratefully.

four shots deep. that is how many it took for you to lose all sense of composure around nikolai. the golden boy in front of you—your best friend—was quite the picture with twisted curls and red cheeks.

and saints had you been pining after him for the past few years. while grisha belonged to a higher class than the commoners, you were still a soldier. he was still a prince. you both had jobs to do, roles to fill, and expectations to fulfill.

you presumed that was his threshold as well. with each glass thrown back, he had shifted closer and closer to you. his eyes trailed down your figure more times than you could count. shamelessly. while neither of you dared the waves between the two of you, the current had been pulling you to one another for years. neither denial nor acceptance.

“do you want me as badly as i want you?” he gathered any sobriety left in him and questioned you, “because as striking as you are in that dress i wouldn’t mind taking it off.”

nikolai lantsov could have been telling you one of his most elaborate lies, and it would not have mattered in the slightest. after sitting through a long night of speeches and passing through mindless congratulations, anything would seem more appealing. however, the golden boy in front of you did not require any of those excuses to be utterly intoxicating.

you could no longer be patient. he tasted like kvas and whatever you had both taken several shots of. it was shared between the two of you now, tongues intermingling in the warmth of each other’s mouths. the rush that started in your head worked into a distinct want at your core.

everything he touched turned to liquid gold, fire melting all of your fine edges to be molded by his hands. once his fingers trailed across your jaw they separated, one hand tangling in your hair and the other skating the curve of your spine. he pressed deeper into you, forcing you to nearly climb on top of him on the floor before he pulled you upright.

when you ran out of skin to attach your lips to, you brought an unsteady hand to his collar. his fingers left their place caught up in your hair and swiftly grasped your wrist before dropping it as a warning. he made an attempt to bring his hands down to the hem of his button down before you used his own ploy against him and smacked it away.

“you made me wait this long,” you breathed out, shaking with pleasure, “let me enjoy this, prince perfect.”

recognizing your admission as an action of teasing and not discomfort, he quickly replied, “we’ll have plenty of time for that later, baby.”

the sly drop of the affectionate bookend to his words did not go unnoticed. as if you were not already putty in his hands, you let him slip his hands into yours and guide them down to his waist. together, you brought his shirt over his head. his body instantly radiated heat inside of the cramped kitchen corner. following his lead, you planted his hand firmly on your shoulder, helping him push aside the sleeve of your kefta and slender strap of your gown.

“see,” his tongue glossed over your collarbones and his teeth lightly grazed your skin, “isn’t this much better?”

you stomped on his foot before throwing a look over your shoulder. eyeing the empty counter, you hopped backwards onto the surface and greedily reached out for nikolai. despite his teasing, he readily accepted your offer and closed the space you had made between the two of you. almost immediately, he made quick work of reaching behind you and undoing the back of your dress. you arched your back to aid him, cursing under your breath at just how skilled he was.

once the jeweled top was pushed down your chest and pooled around your waist, he brought a hand back to your chest. his mouth quickly followed. you gripped his shoulder, the other finding any part of his waist to claim. you felt his muscles tense and then react under your palm.

you wanted him. you wanted this. and fortunately, you had quite the reputation of getting what you wanted.

everything inside of you ached to be touched by nikolai. you felt the incessant need of developing him as a habit. as soon as the thought of the inevitable consequences of your best friend pressing your knees apart entered your head, you quickly banished it.

he was a picture. his hair had started to splay across and stick to his forehead. you pushed his curls back, locking on his eyes as blue as the seas. you trailed your hand down to trail your thumb across his lips before taking his neck to bring his lips to yours. at first, it was drawn out and warm. his tongue explored your mouth thoroughly. then, it was sparks as you quickly and greedily kissed a new part of his lips each second.

you gasped at his sudden touch under your skirt. pleasure pooled downward while his fingers fought upward. it was an explosion of anticipation in your stomach as he lowered himself to a knee, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. you steadied yourself on the top of the cabinets, the feeling of falling building in your core.

“i-,” you fought back a premature moan as you squirmed on the counter, “i think you’re enjoying this a little too much.”

he kissed up your calf, following after his fingers and responded without looking up, “i live to please.”

you shivered at the sensation of his lips on your skin. suddenly and without warning, there was so much more. you squeezed his shoulder, breaths getting more shallow with each passing second. dropping his fingers, he quickly returned to attend to the bundle of nerves with his mouth. his tongue swirled in circles, once again dizzying you.

“mhm,” you struggled to find words, “saints, nikolai.”

his name on your lips nearly drove him over the edge. he kept a hand situated on your inner thigh but greedily wrapped the other around the back of your head. you all but encouraged his haste, dropping your leg from his shoulder and hooking it around one of his. you rolled your hips into his, drawing him closer than ever before.

you studied the lines of his body with your hands, committing each muscle to memory. you indulged in the hands on activity. his hand rubbing up your leg did not help slow your heart rate, which you are entirely sure you did not want, either way. you littered his chest and stomach with marks from your lips.

“i leave next week for my service.”

your lips dropped from his neck. the absence of heat and the distinct thud of his pulse pounding in between kisses could not compare to the plummet of your heart into your stomach. suddenly, you felt the effects of the last hour’s consumption all at once.

you swallowed hard, fighting to keep down the alcohol. running your tongue quickly over your lips, you took advantage of the second it gave you to study the boy’s face in front of you. his eyes avoided yours at all costs, making it all the more difficult to read his emotions.

his lips were swollen. cheeks painted with the hues of a rosy sunset. you wanted to know what shade of blue his eyes appeared to be now, but he still would not look at you.

deciding to blame it on the inebriation, you allowed your next statement to go unfiltered, “so that’s it,” you hiccuped, “i was just going to be a way to get your mind off of that, huh?”

the impending breakdown of years of friendship turned your stomach in an unpleasant way. you muttered a curse or three under your breath as you gathered the layers of your now wrinkled skirt in your hands, moving to stand up unsteadily. the movement forced his hand off of your inner thigh. he kept his other around the curve of your waist, fingers tapping a nervous pattern. you moved to push those off, as well, but he gripped your hip bone.

“don’t,” he said easily, attempting a sultry confidence but his seduction had worn off.

a different kind of want pooled in the seas of his eyes. it was no longer desire but desperation. you were sure yours were a mirror image.

“don’t make it too hard for me to let you go,” you stumbled, “don’t leave me,” your words bubbled over drunken and quivering lips.

nikolai bit into his lip at the sight of your tears. it might have been painful but it was a superficial, barely skimming the surface kind of hurt. the sight of your eyes welling up and the unsteady rise and fall of your chest ran much deeper. he felt like a blade was slowly slicing himself in two jagged and incomplete pieces.

his breath skipped in his throat and he fumbled for his words just as much as he did your hands, “i-you,” he was not sure if it was smart to say all that he really wanted to but it was true, “come with me.”

you looked up at him, daring to hope that you could find truth in his eyes. composing yourself by clearing your throat, you ran a hand through your hair, “you know i can’t.”

he was quick with his retort, “but you’ve graduated now! i could surely convince my father of the need for such protection.”

as much as your heart drew to his, like it was made to match the opposing pole of his the magnet embedded in his own, you could not agree with him, “nikolai as much as i appreciate the offer,” you ignored the way his smile dropped for the sake of your own ability to continue, “what life would that give me? one where i rely on you to give orders so that i can be by your side?”

“i need you by my side.”

“but will you be on mine?”

maybe you did not know how to live without nikolai. you tried to stumble away from him but you barely made it a step before you started to slip. right as his hand went to steady you, you finally let the tears fall. they were wicked and raw and unforgiving.

suddenly, your head was pounding and the remaining layers of your dress seemed to suffocate you. you had nearly slept with your best friend and now, he was leaving. you fought the thoughts telling you—screaming at you—that he only did this now and not years before because he was leaving. he would not have to do damage control on your heart or the relationship once shared between the two of you.

“i’ve got to go,” you sniffed, pulling up your dress and wiping away both tears and shame from your eyes, “zoya will be worried.”

she would not be. in fact, your best friend had covered for your outings with nikolai on multiple occasions and knew to expect you late. what would really worry her—if she even possessed such capabilities of expressing this incredibly human emotion—would be the state you returned in, one you never got in after visiting nikolai.

“please,” nikolai begged, “i know that you could go anywhere. maybe at first you wouldn’t fit in but you’re the puzzle piece nobody even knows they’re missing yet,” his words gave you pause, “i know you hate being thought of as anything but your own person, of being a soldier in a royal’s world, a woman in a man’s,” he continued with a deep breath, “but i need you to complete me. please, let me live in your world.”

you wanted everything that he spoke of but his words started to fade away. your thoughts were too loud and overpowering. they demanded an audience. it was hard to get out of your own head but you could not let nikolai distract you.

“it would never work,” you sighed dismally, “we would never work.”

“let me try,” nikolai pleaded, turning your hands over in his and sounding so young despite the heavy topic.

“i can’t take you away from your service,” you disallowed with a shake of your head, “from your travels, nikolai. i know you want all of that—,”

“i want you.”

“but you don’t need me.”

“maybe that’s true,” nikolai relented with a unique fervor in his eyes, “maybe i don’t need to be in love with you but i want to.”

you had been speechless on only a few occasions. you always had words or could be sure to find some. it was something nikolai appreciated and an annoyance for zoya.

nikolai wanted to be in love with. you reminded yourself that this admission did not mean that he was, simply that he wanted to be. you wanted to be a lot of things and they had certainly not come to fruition. he was a fool for deeming it even probable—not in the world you both inhabited, the very different roles you played.

you stole a tear from his cheek with your thumb, “i need my best friend, nikolai,” you nearly choked on your words, “i need to love you in that way, understand?”

his frown deepened. you could tell he was fighting it. everything. you managed a smile because you expected him to do this. he could learn to fly with broken wings if he wanted to, if he needed to.

you took his jaw in your hands, delicately murmuring for only him to hear, “you are so good and i am so proud of you. don’t think that i will not be your fiercest protector wherever i am.”

nothing could exist forever. for this one moment, you wanted it to be. you wanted to allow him to hold you, to kiss you, to carry you. you knew he would do all of it and more. but, you could not submit him to that.

“i love you,” he breathed out with whatever air he could conjure. his forehead rested against your own and his thumbs swirled color into your cheeks.

“i love you back,” you whispered for your best friend, your pocket merlin, jack of all trades, your person.

you tried to close the door, but he had jammed his foot in it stubbornly. you could not find it in you to slam it shut on him. you could not hurt him. so, you left it cracked. you would turn the lights off but take every ray of his light that slipped through the cracks.

#nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai x reader #nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone #rule of wolves #ruin and rising #siege and storm #sab netflix #sab fic #sab fanfic #sab fanfiction #nikolai lantsov fluff

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kookiessugababy · 3 years ago

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My Sweet Girl (Min Yoongi) // 18+ nsfw!!

Warnings🚨- slapping (minimal) // out of relationship// fingering// teasing//hickies

-> scenario: you’re both deeply in it for one another- you’re just waiting for the right time. A needy, lustful breakfast after a cosy night at Yoongis apartment leads to your feelings only firing.

Hope you enjoy <3

*****************************************************

The absence of his arms woke you at 8:30, instead finding yourself wrapped in a warm duvet and surrounded by the sweet aroma of pancakes. Clattering pans and cutlery echoed from the neighbouring room, apartment walls shaking with every step the boy took. He almost conveyed the impression of frustration, with the unnatural business for such time in the morning most likely getting to him. Curious, you brushed the quilt to the floor before covering up with a stray shirt residing by the bed. Your hair was messy and eyes screaming with oscitation and with little effort made, you wandered through the dim corridor to the kitchen.

Drawing closer the aforementioned cacophony was met with a juxtaposing hum of soft music, a small voice murmuring lyrics. The door was agar allowing sweet smells to escape the warmth, taunting you through as you tasted the cloyingly sweet air. On the opposing side of the busy counter that was occupied by fine China plates and delicate glasses filled with freshly squeezed orange juice, your eyes were met with the frame of a shirtless Yoongi, leaning with his back to you over the stove. Leaking light sauntered through the gaps of the apartment windows, tickling his pale complexion with sparkles of morning dew- delicately drawing patterns down his spine. His skin looked soft and untouched, toned arms reaching for condiments as he remained oblivious to your gaze. Floppy silver hair fell to the boys face in a lazy manner, complementing his nape - broad shoulders holding stretching with every move. “And what is this, Mr Yoongi?” you playfully tittered after minutes of taking in the sight. Before resting against the doorframe, you folded your arms at your chest as he span around on his heels, raising an eyebrow to sportively taunt him with disbelief. When he came to facing, flaunting his husky figure- underwear sitting low on his waist, you found your stare uncontrollable. Obvious gawking permissed him to smirk slightly as his eyebrows relaxed- curled lips inviting you closer as he swiped them with his tongue. “Breakfast, my sweet girl” he replies, pushing a plate in your direction over the islands surface, taking a fork in your hand as you sat in the mustard leather seat. The modern room was airy and colourful, matching the theme of the rest of Yoongi apartment. Stacked pancakes coated in sugar and fruit were presented to you as he stalked you closely, taking in your appreciative smile while you abstained from running your eyes further then his face. His gummy grin made you giggle, cheeks heating as he leered at you flirtatiously, sipping his juice while his eyes never left yours.

Despite the serenity you felt at this moment, the two of you had a muddled relationship. Inseparable was often used to describe your liaison- all of your belongings sat in his flat, you slept in his bed, you attended every single of the boys concerts, yet neither of you had ever asked each other to commit officially. Both of you were deeply affectionate for one another; blatantly in love- yet both felt this to such an extent the idea of rejection was worse than imaginable. Most nights were filled with long chats and movie marathons- others passionate sex or a frolicking at the beach. Min Yoongi never tolerated a dull moment when you were intertwined in his company, his affection almost felt abysmal with never ending ways to make you feel adored: and this morning was one of them.

Scratches of the fork echoed around the room as you emptied your plate, watching the boy caper to the radio in a zestful grace. “hmmm, my sweet girl, I must leave you today…practice with the boys at the studio but angel we shall do whatever you would like tonight” he announced, sounding much more sensitive than his usual self. Finding disappointment settle slightly, you agreed with a forceful grin: “you’ll need to make it up to me though Mr Yoongi” you replied, dismaying the lemon tone in an attempt to alleviate any sense of awkwardness. “Is that so?” he teased in return, pacing his way behind the stool, arms floating around you as he rested his chin on your shoulders. Bevelling your head back slightly, you relaxed against his rising chest- hearts beating in unison as he gently kissed the plush of your skin. You hummed as you moved further to give him access to your neck, his chapped lips cursing your name as he tickled your collarbones with pecks. “How about i make it up to you now?”

Patience grew thin as his fingers tugged your hair lightly, the kisses turning to pinches as he made his way to your shoulder. Every movement were sensual and planned, finding your hairs standing on edges skin as he traced his mouth along nerves. Before you could speak, he spun the chair to face himself, watching over as you glanced- eyes meeting. His stare was tantalising, tempting you closer and leaving you needy after he had barely handled you. Inhaling, his pouting lips parted, fixating on your blushing cheeks as you began to heat under his glare. Pushing your thighs together abruptly, you avoided diverting his attention to your gratuitous state. Like an eagle, his eyes flew to your thighs- large hands clasping them and pulling them apart. Coyly leering, his shining rings pressed cold against your skin as he rubbed circles lewdly, hungry hands running to your inner thigh. Here, his fingers snaked to your undressed clit- admitting your state with a growl at the wetness of your heat. His index finger extended and faintly paced your slit, impelling you to buck your hips slightly in the chair. Again, a devious smirk plastered Yoongis face as he inspected your reaction, your oversensitivity riling as he administered his power.

“Y-Yoongi” you moaned, his finger circling around your hole as he marked your jawline with raw red hickies. The shirt you wore was almost see through due to its pearly pigment, the harsh light showcasing your breasts through the fabric- Yoongi eying them as his finger moved from your heat. Taking it to his mouth, he sucked his fingers while keeping your attention- groaning at the sweet tasting the juices collected on his now soaked fingers. “My sweet girl, you taste so fucking good.” he praised, making your stomach turn at the validation you craved. Suddenly, he slapped your thigh and kneaded it with his other hand- the lubricated index now making its way into your head. You moved to hold his shoulders as he pushed it into you, curling it to hit tight walls. Roughly, he moved his finger in and out repeatedly, hair falling to his face as he slipped another one in. The forcefulness of his hands alone made your breasts bounce, moans slipping out of your mouth as the sound of your arousal bounce of the walls- the wet squelches worsening after every move. Despite your embarrassment for how pathetically turned on you were, you continued to focus watching his hand vigorously move at your heat- whining at the feeling. “Mm-more Yoongi” you pleaded, hips now rocking in the stool to gain more friction against his long digits and yet you couldn’t help but crave something more. “Oh goodness me kitten, is somebody after cock?” he playfully chimed, although he seemed somewhat breathless. Without slowing down, he pulled out his fingers completely- the cool air stinging your dripping heat as you fussed desperately.

Seconds later, his boxers were discarded to the floor- his long member standing erect. He held it in his hand, signalling you to spread your legs yet again for him. “That’s it baby, nice and wide for my big cock” he cooed, precum running to his fluid coated fingers. Swiftly, he grabbed your leg and moved it over his shoulder- forcing you to lean back in the stool against the counter. Facing him you could watch as he glanced at your dampened thighs, biting his lip as took in every visible part of you. The shirt covered your modesty in a way that turned him on more- he knew exactly what was under there as he’d seen it so many times before- and yet only his imagination could picture your breasts jumping as he pounded you and the reddening chest in provocation. “Such a pretty girl.” he muttered instantly as his swelling cock tore through your heat, your moans uncontrollable as his hips thrusted you. The clashing of skin peaked around the room, his cock filling you in a way you’d never felt before. The angle he had perceived from raising your leg allowed him to repeatedly hit your g spot, driving into you harder and harder each time. Continuing at this pace, his spare hand reached to your clit, fondling it in quick circles. The pace of it all was almost unbearable, your breathe hitching at the immediacy of it all.

“Fuck- mmm” Yoongi groaned, reaching further and further into you as he pulled your leg up more. Your head tilted back under the inability to hold it up- words slurred and vision blurry with tears as your eyes streamed. Sweat poured from the boys head as a result of the repetition- hair sticking to his face as his parted lips announced his pleasure. The stool rocked against the counter as he failed to give in, his cock twitching as he felt your walls clench. Moving his hand from your swollen clit, he held your breasts tightly as his final thrusts slowed down, hips slapping against yours as he buried himself deep. Tightening stomachs and burning faces led you both to a moaning mess, your insides clenching as you felt yourself reaching your orgasm. “I- cum.. Yoongi I need to-“ struggling to offer a sentence, you pleaded for a release as your walls tightened around his spilling cock. “Cum” he demanded breathlessly, his face flushed and coated in a layer of sweat. Before you could reply, a blackness held your body as you twisted in pleasure- the warmth of his seed filling you as you came around his cock simultaneously. Your nails dug into his back as you gasped in pleasure- profanities bleeding from Yoongis lips as he felt your climax around himself. Answering to exhaustion, his movements turned sloppy as he let down your leg, allowing time for you to adjust to the release. He rode out both of your highs- slightly hissing at the dripping of your cunt as he pulled out. Your thighs were messy with arousal, your pussy dripping with his load. Grinning, he pulled your large shirt down slightly to dab up the mess- kissing you softly on the forehead in return.

Each breath was still heavy as he pulled back up his boxers, your heat sore from the keenness of it all. He chuckled slightly and your bewildered state; slightly hair slightly messy, tear stained eyes and your shirt now soaked. Pecking your lips lightly, he touched his nose against yours, smiling a gummy smile that calmed your heaving. “I’d better be off to dress, my sweet girl. Thankyou for making my morning wonderful” he whispered against your cheek, tightly hugging you in a warm embrace. Giggling, you nodded- permissing him leave with a soft kiss on the cheek.

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

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bookishcatcafe · 1 year ago

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Loona's Family: A Fan-Fic Part 2/2

Thanks again @trin-draws-art for the inspiration! Hope you and everyone else enjoys!

Via: I—I’m sorry for being distant these last few weeks. I just…I just feel like things have changed since you and Blitz moved in. My mom moved out and despite her being a massive bitch, she still is my mom. It felt weird. It just felt weird—the divorce, the bond that grew with Blitz and my dad, and how when you move-in I find my dad not really taking time to hangout or ask me how my day was. I feel distant from him. From you.

Loona looks up at her and wipes her own tears as she sits up into the bench. The mist went off again and covered them both—both of them didn’t mind it.

Loona: I…I’m sorry we made you feel that way Via. I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I didn’t even know. This is all just…so new, and I don’t mean the whole palace and rich family thing! I think we just…I think we both are trying to adjust. To this. I go from having one dad to two, you go from having a mom to now having your dad’s boyfriend move in with his illegitimate daughter.

Via: You are not illegitimate! Do you know how much your dad loves you? Do you know how much MY dad loves you? Loona—if you saw how much they have been scrambling around in a hurry and such a stress to make your birthday perfect—hell my parents never really went to such extremes! Yet you feel like you are not being loved! Loona—You. Are. Loved!

Loona looks away at first, covering her face with her hair, looking down at the floor, nearby her feet was a dandelion. She stares at it and begins to reply.

Loona: I…I don’t know why I think this way Via. I don’t know why.

She began to reminiscence, in short glimpses, of the horrid life in the pound—the comments from passerby’s who never chose her. Prior to that, it was the dangerous life being born in the streets with a family that is just a blur. The dandelion rustles in gently as mist slowly falls onto its seeds, she blinks, and those memories fade instantaneously. She growls softly before taking a deep breath.

Loona: I fucking hate it.

Via rubs her shoulder and puts the locket around Loona’s neck.

Via: We can fucking hate it together then, Sister.

Loona grabs the dandelion and blows its seeds from the stem, placing the stem back on the ground. She gets up and offers a hand for Via to hold.

Loona: No bad blood between us?

Via: No. Never! Never was. Never will be.

Loona: And I’m not gonna steal your family from you. I think your dad just gets too excited about things—

Via: Especially when Blitz is around

Loona: Especially when dad is around.

Loona laughs and takes out her phone, positioning it to take a selfie, the both of them posing with wide smiles, heads leaning against each other’s while they are surrounded by flowers and the beauteous glass of the conservatory.

They were calm. They felt like they needed this moment just for them—away from their parents and away from the palace despite it just being the backyard grounds. As they walked towards the palace’s back entrance, they could see from outside a bustle of lights, hustling around with the movement of streamers, and of imps putting lights around. When they got closer to the doors audible screams of excitement were coming from the kitchen, laughing, hushes, and the cursing under Blitz’s breath telling everyone to, in a not-so-quiet tone “Shut the fuck up Loonie’s here!”

They entered the kitchen, where suddenly the lights went on and Blitz, Stolas, Moxxie, Millie, two imp butlers, and Vortex were all there—and in a flash the room was loud with joy.

Loona had friends. She felt more solidified in this. She looked to Via, Stolas, and to Blitz and smiled, her tail wagging uncontrollably.

She had a family.

Loona's Family: A Fan-Fic Part 1/2

Thanks again @trin-draws-art for the inspiration! Hope you and everyone else enjoys!

It was a busy day at home today. Blitz was scrambling around the house, putting up decorations, calling at Stolas to help him with said decorations--especially with those in places Blitz could not reach like the "Happy Birthday" sign currently haphazardly hanging in the kitchen or the blowing of balloons which were currently slowly sliding to the floor or countertops.

During all the commotion, Via had walked into the kitchen, grabbed the carton of orange juice, and made a glass while also making a bowl of cereal and taking it to the other room. She was quiet. She still wore her PJs during all this--it was currently noon.

Stolas: Oh dearie--we do need to finish these decorations and prepare for tonight's dinner.

Blitz: And we need the cake! I…mayyy need your help with that babe.

Stolas: Chuckles as he finishes blowing a balloon You can help me decorate it then. I know you and your baking skills.

Blitz laughs as he struggles with one of the balloons. Loona was in her room, listening to music in bed, and scrolling through texts between her and Vortex.

Via sat and ate in the other room of the Goetia palace--which Stolas now brought in Blitz and Loona after the divorce finalized and their relationship blossomed. She had felt as if, when Loona and Blitz came in, her own world was drifting. As if, Stolas felt more in love with them than her--a mere product of his past trauma. She knew how rocky Stella and Stolas had it together—she herself questioned her father’s sexuality and comfortability with her mom. For some reason, which at the time she did not know of, they had to stay together for the family. She sighs and rubs her forehead, shaking it off. She finished eating and made her way to her own room.

Loona went through pictures on her phone: pics of the crew at IMP, aesthetically pleasing pics of different spots in Hell and on Earth which some contained her and her IMP co-workers, selfies through the ages, and pictures of her and Blitz.

Something struck a chord in her, seeing the picture of Blitz and her at Blitz's place. It was her first day home and Blitz had wanted to celebrate it with breakfast for dinner, streamers, balloons, and a present--a red shirt with a black skull on it. As she gazed at the picture, tears ran down her cheeks and she whimpered in bed.

Via heard whimpers from outside of Loona's bedroom which was in the same hallway as her own--she goes to knock before hesitating and moving away. She thought to herself, "And on her birthday…what's making her so sad? I don't think I'd even know what to say." She goes to her room and shuts the door behind her, changing out of her PJs and into a sweater, black jeans, and a beanie. She puts on makeup and leaves the room.

Loona wipes her tears, getting out of bed, getting dressed, and leaving her room--making sure to not get caught by Blitz or Stolas as she quietly moves around the palace and out into the backyard. She finds herself surrounded by the wonderous gardens that Stolas had grown by hand--she found it pretty and let out a slight smile as she wanders through the paths of roses and sunflowers until she found herself in a conservatory. It was shrouded in green endless vines, lavender flowers, a pond surrounding the building, and a small sign engraved in gold near the entrance of the conservatory which read "For Via, my darling owlette". As she read this, Loona sighed and entered the conservatory. It smelled fresh and at that moment felt like the world around her was wet—which it was by the occasional misting that occurred around her which covered her and the countless plants.

Loona felt like she had entered another world when she had moved into Stolas's palace. She had known Stolas prior to this--they knew how they obtained the grimoire--let alone the relationship her dad had with him. She had felt like a black sheep--not being an imp and yet is the daughter to one. As a hellhound, she felt lower than everyone else around her—the imps at work, her dad, hell even the other hellhounds she would meet she never truly connected with. She thought back to Stolas, and then to Via. She felt that Via had everything--though as events occurred which culminated into their now living together--Loona had learned more about the stiff relationship that was the Goetia family. She felt like, for some semblance, Via and her were a little alike. She had helped find her for Hell's sake--yet why does she feel this way between them? Why does she feel like the outcast in the room, this fly on the proverbial wall.

Via was on the other end of the conservatory, staring at Loona just sitting on a bench and staring at the hydrangeas that hung above her in flower pots. She walks over and sits next to Loona, sighing, as she offers her a small box.

Via: Happy Birthday Loona.

Loona takes the box and opens it to find a small locket which was in the shape of a hellhound’s face. She opens it to see a picture of her, on that night, smiling up at the shooting stars together. When she opens the locket, she begins to cry again, to which Via holds her close into a hug, letting her now-sister cry into her shoulder.

#fanfiction #helluva boss #loona #octavia #stolas #blitz #fanfic

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muffindaddystyles · 4 years ago

Text

Hates to, Hate you.

Word Count: 8k

Summary: Harry realizes that hurting Y/N broke him into pieces and tries to win her back with the confession of true feelings, will Y/N let him? If yes, how? How will he walk through fire for her?

Pairing: Famous!Harry x Reader!with anxiety.

AU: fake dating, slow burn, sexual tension, enemies to lover!

Warning: Mentions of violence, sexual assault, language, adult topics.

PART 1, MASTERLIST

"Please, stop." He says dolefully rubbing his eyebrows to get rid of the ache pounding in his head.

He's miserable. It hurts to not have her with him. It's been two tragic months of going through constant sleepless nights, disrestless stomach, intoxicating himself to forget her, staring at things like a hawk and missing her terribly.

He was alone before her and never felt this lonely.

He sees her everywhere. In his dreams and her shadows in his drawing room getting excited over a ceramic vase someone gifted him. Dancing in his kitchen to the beat of pink floyd and hip-checking him for a cheerful nudge, in his back garden rescuing a sparrow who broke it's neck and in his attic stressing over her assignments.

Everything reminds him of her. The fruity drinks that the barista's handing to the people, the fairy lights upon their heads and how she used to fond over them —- buying it for his bedroom too and when he refused to hang them, she just brushed off his snarky comment and did it herself.

The ring in Harris finger floods back all the bitter-sweet memories of the time he refused to have a lil fun with her, (Y/N and Harris made friendship rings and bracelets for eachother with the colorful beads to spend their boring time in his home waiting for him to write some lines before they went to a gumball shop) as they try to knock some senses in their friend's brain, "You tried to dodge a heartbreak and still ended up shattering your heart, yourself." They worry about him. That he's been bearing the pain all alone and not sharing it with anyone.

His voice croak-y and hoarse, "How's she?" The question haunts him. She blocked his phone number and even in the wee hours of night he wrecks his mind whether he should call her or not, he couldn't because she doesn't want to hear his voice.

He misses her voice. He misses her complaints and whines as if they filled the stoic parts of his life with happiness.

"How'd I know?" Harris lowers down to rest their elbows on the table, "I -- I thought . . she isn't in contact with ye'?" When Harris shakes their head with a gesture that he's being truthful it sinks his heart furthermore.

He clears his throat, twisting the jewels on his hand and sucks his bottom lip to muster some courage, "I've been seeing someone." Harris chokes on the boba they were chewing on for so long, "You what?" They are completely perturbed at his statement. Even though they've been working together and been friends before Y/N came in the picture, she's still their bezzy and we don't betray our bezzies like that.

"Yeah, someone to help me sort me feelings out." Harry frowns confusedly and then realization washes upon him so he becomes frantic in his chair, "No . . not what you're thinkin'." He runs his fingers through his hair to subside the twitch in them.

"A therapist, 'm talkin' bout a therapist . ." He sighs watching his tea waft down sympathetically.

"Oh. That's a good start, Harry!" Harris tries to bring the same dimply boyish smile that used to flutter over his lips whenever she used to tease him, unfortunately it never appears.

Y/N didn't handle her first ever heartbreak well. She lost her appetite, her focus on her studies and to her surprise didn't shed a single tear –-- it just kept piling in her chest and she waited for the moment it'd burst until she saw those pictures plastered all over social media. Pictures of him with some model that isn't a shorty pants like her at all, totally how those ladies described his type to be and someone with whom he wouldn't be embarrassed to hang out with.

She's everything, Y/N's jealous of. Those sparkling blue eyes compared to her boring brown ones, handsome figure and the radiance of richness.

Then she got stuck into her life responsibilities and worried about other things such that; she wasn't able to pay any bills and her flat's rent despite doing two part time jobs along with doing her class-fellows assignments in return of money and still got kicked out of it. Her close friend offered her to live in her studio and she has made it her kitchen, study, sleeping room with her stuff and clothes scattered everywhere.

She lives on noodles and toasted breads sometimes treating herself with delights of kit-kat bars in the middle of nights.

Watches her friend do her work and leave when the night comes by —- she has never felt this lonely in her entire life.

"So, was it love at first sight?" Nora her friend asks, handing her cuppa tea and a scone. Y/N let a weak sad smile slip, shaking her head and reminiscing all those moments where she was falling in love with him without even realizing, "Falling in love slowly patiently is the most beautiful . . . at some time I used to loathe his existence but staying with him and after knowing him, it was like --— an escapeless tunnel. I didn't realize it, till one day I woke up and my heart saw him in a different light, where I wanted to give him all me lovin' but he wasn't ready for it." She shrugs sipping the hot beverage and doesn't flinch from the burn that tingles at the tip of her tongue.

When she put her cup aside Nora takes her hand assuring her sweetly, "You'll have that person soon -- he's just on his way, with a big bouquet of roses and a teddy bear to give you the lovin' you deserve." Y/N giggles at that waving her off and not showing how her person is still Harry. What does she do to forget him? To fool her in thinking he isn't her first love.

"Aish, Nora aren't you gettin' late? Gooo." She had some clients to meet before she stopped here at studio to grab some things but it turned into a girlie hangout, "Take care honey and don't forget to put a bucket there." She points to the corner where water's dripping from the rooftop and Y/N exhaled an exasperated sigh of breath when the door clicks leaving her alone yet again.

It was past twelve and when usually she pulls an all nighter to study -- today she decided to sleep early. Her bad habit of overthinking kicks in again, this time it's not over some silly thing but she ponders over where she went wrong? She should've kept her feelings to herself and atleast would have been sleeping in her bed cuddled with her chonky cat Zippy.

She misses Zippy badly.

A noise of door unlocking loudly drags her from her reverie and her heart pounds against her ribcage ready to break it. Who could be at this hour of night? It could be Nora since she's the only one who got keys to the place.

Sitting up quickly she squints against the blinding lights and watches someone's boot stepping over her blanket that flopped onto the floor from the sofa she's sleeping on.

"Kevin? What are you doing here?" He's Nora's boyfriend and her classfellow. He just shrugs tumbling his way towards the sofa and she tries to scoot back from him as much as possible, "I'm here to see you. . ." He slurs. It knocks her breath out, filling terror in her veins as the heels of her feet rub against the leather of the couch in her effort to be away from him.

"What? This's not appropriate I -- I . . suggest you to call Nora s –- so, what're you doin —-" She squeaks in fear sinking into the couch when he towers over her and traps her under him with his hands on either side of her body aggressively, "I like you. Why don't you get it!!" She flinches when he shouts angrily with bloodshot eyes and the smell of alcohol disgusts her springing tears in her eyes.

"Please, stop . . ." She whispers with silent tears running down her throat using all her strength to push at his shoulders but he grips her hips tightly and yanks at her sleeping shirt revealing the strap of her bralette. She couldn't even cry for help. It's useless so putting some belief in herself for the last time she uses all her power and kicks him in his crotch pushing him roughly on the floor.

His nails tear at her delicate skin but she doesn't care before running out of the studio ignoring the names he's calling her from behind.

She runs away, away and away. Not thinking twice where she's going before crossing the bridges and tunnels. It feels like her ears are bleeding with the echo of loud horns of traffic and the hopelessness of her life makes her fall on her knees. She cries all the tears she was bottling up for months feeling like she's running out of time and reaching dangerously near to her end.

She's been in the same neighbourhood she's been before many times. The chilly wind doesn't prick goosebumps over her skin, the night's darkness doesn't scare her and the stray dog that's barking somewhere in far doesn't affect her at all as she stares at the door from where she has stepped into her comfort space many times.

Harry's with Scottie. His childhood friend who's here in London for some shoot. They were lounged in the living room talking their hearts out and their cringey memories from when they were small when he halted mid-talk, jaw slacking when his eyes took the sight of someone standing at his main door from the multiple security screens appearing on the telly.

He doesn't believe at first. Thinking he's hallucinating and that maybe he just saw a flicker of a ghost but when she looks up revealing her sad face and those big brown eyes he rushes to open the door.

"Fuck." He breathes out working on the heavy cold locks of the oak door with shaky hands anxiously and she was about to walk away with her back turned to him when he spurts out her name in haste, "Y/N." She listens to him. Insides breaking with the nirvana and scent of him surrounding her.

His breath hitches in his throat when she spins to meet his apprehensive gaze and she doesn't give him a chance to have a proper look at her before falling in his arms, her head hitting his chest and body shaking vigorously as she sobs sadly.

"Darlin'?" He asks worriedly, slipping his arms around her shoulders to lull her in his embrace, "Are you oka?" He feels like his stomach ate his heart as he anticipates an explanation from her and she isn't doing anything but crying.

"You're scarin' me, pet. What happened honey?" He pulls away to cradle her face in his calloused palms. His chests pangs with hurt and remorse upon seeing her tear stained cheeks, wobbly blue lips, and disheveled state.

He steps inside with her still in his arms and rubs his hand down her spine to calm her down as little sad sniffles and hiccups keep slipping out of her mouth.

He sits her on the sofa squatting down infront of her and Scottie brings her water. When she refuses to drink it because Harry strokes his thumb against the apple of her cheek, "Shh, 's okay . . you're okay. You're with me now, sweet girl." It's like the world and anything else has blurred around him and his ever priority's focusing on her only. His observant gaze dawdles from her face to her bruised shoulder emitting an afflicted gasp of trepidity from between his lips and it deepens to a growl when it fell over her hip-bone where the fabric of her pyjama's spotted with blood.

He glances up at Scottie who gives him a knowing look of horror. He gets closer to her and she doesn't retract as his thumb streaks away the blood oozing from her shoulder gently, saying nothing as he examines it.

After a brief pause Y/N's heart skips a nervous beat when he tilts her chin to have a better look at her face, taking in the evidence of someone handling his petal so brutally it left scratches at her face.

Harry looks her dead in the eyes. His anger barely restrained tippling from the pot ready to leave burns, his voice is tense and quite, ears heating with wrath.

"Who did this to you?"

"Kevin." The tears are back at her waterline more concerned that he's panicking because of her and Scottie sits beside her massaging her shoulders.

"Kevin, who?" Harry's question is curt controlling himself from finding this mother fucker himself and beat the shit out of him, "H -- he's my friend's boyfriend, I though --– was sleeping in her studio 'n 'n --- when he . . . he —-- " She hides her face in her palms unable to speak but Harry quickly pulls her down in a comforting hug whispering sweet things to stop her crying.

She parts from him with puffy eyes and swollen lips shaking her head at her stupidity, "I … I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here, 'm gonna leave — ' " She's a weeping blubbering mess trying to stand up on her jello legs with the help of the couch's armrest.

He catches her wrist crying out, "No! Don't! please, please stay . . . . fo' me?" Scottie has never seen him like this. Bended out of shape for a person, begging them on his knees to protect them as he rambles loudly.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden on you, I -- I'll go in the morning." Since she has nowhere to go it's better she sleeps here for a night instead of on the streets.

Harry finds it ironic. That once he didn't want her overnights now he wants her all days and weeks, perhaps till the end of his life.

He's gonna win her back.

He hands her his tattered comfy sleeping clothes and the spare toothbrush leaving her to it. When he comes back downstairs Scottie's waiting for him at the main door.

"You should report a file against that bastard the first thing in the morning." Scottie tells him seriously and he nods. His head snaps when she spoke softly, smiling at him, "You're in love."

"What?"

"I haven't seen you like that with anyone, Harry. Make it to her foolish boi -- tell her what you feel." She laughs, jolting him with his shoulders and he smiles timidly bidding her a good-bye.

The door to her room's ajar opened as he peeks inside to make sure she's okay and sighs deeply when finds her staring blankly at the ceiling. The floorboard creaks when he pads inside quietly and her stare diverts to him while he stands on the foot of bed, "I read somewhere that cuddlin' helps ye'sleep better, you w'na try?" She hums in return, fisting the duvet under her chin and slip shuts her eyes remaining stiff in her spot when he slides under the duvet closer to her.

She turns into a puddle when his long arms wrap around her tummy, "Is this okay?" His voice a mere whisper of care earning an honest nod from her -- his thigh strings over her legs to cocoon her in his warmth completely, ". . and this?" She again nod at him so,

He smushes his cheek into the crook of her neck and she could feel something moist on her skin while his lips puckered to speak, "Y/N?" He murmures broken and sad snuggling more into her.

"Hmm?" She hums, the exhaustion from walking and crying this much forcing her to sleep, "I've missed you, terribly." Her heart leaps and she wants to exchange the familiarity of emotions but her tongue remains heavy in her mouth.

Her toes curls and fingers clutches the wrinkly fabric of the pillow case she had her head rested on but now it's slipping down from over it due to her body shaking vigorously as she tries to escape those filthy, gruesome hands like a terrifying shadows of evil choking her throat and sucking the life out of her.

Harry's head snaps down to where she was snuggled to his side moments ago when she murmur-yells no,no,no,no'. He feels like someone placed a heavy brick over his chest at the sight of his lovie writhing like a leaf petrified of whatever she's dreaming of and his shoulders rolls back while he perches on his elbow to shake her gently out of it.

"Y/N . . ." He remains dulcet. Chewing onto his already swollen bottom lip since he didn't even close his eyes the entire night manipulating the plush flesh, he doesn't know what kept him awake —- but it sure was this sense of responsibility to make her feel protected under his wings. She smacks his arm away pushing at his chest with her all might to skid away to the edge of the bed in her sleepy state, so he quickly hunches on wobbly knees to catch her before she falls.

"It's just me, Angel, Harry –- wake up darlin'," His heart beating ominously frantic and head jumbling with horrible thoughts of what she's going through as her warmed up cheeks soak with tears, he has never seen her like this, he never wanted to see her for the first time after months like this --- shattered to pieces and drained of her energy.

He smooths his thumb to caress her cheek slightly and swipe those sad tears away. She wakes up with a gasp making him jerk his chin back, blinking rapidly to confirm her surroundings and her fearful vision zeros to his panicked features. She places her palms against his pectorals to make sure he's real and there and that ugly nightmare just ended, "Harry?" He gulps the thick web of tears down his throat and bobs his head.

"Yes, sweet girl, Harry . . ." The very streaks of golden rays sneak through the curtains and dances between their faces as she fists the hem of his shirt, "It was just a nightmare." He assures her running his hand up and down her arms to calm her down.

"Don't be afraid, dovie' won't let anybody hurt ya from now on, g'na protect you —--" It was the last straw for her before she flipped him over and climbed out of his bed to get out from his room.

"Shit." He drives into a state of frenzy following her down the stairs like a puppy almost missing a step or two as she wears the slippers she came in last night, "Where ye' goin'?" His muscles twitch in a hurry to make his next move and save whatever's between them that's keeping him sane, " Dunno, away from you." She shrugs, lost in her own fog and the sting in his heart's unbearable with the inflammation of hurt.

"Why?" He tumbles through the last step and infront of her, eyes bloodshot and heart how from the squeezing agony of loosing her for second time for the same cause.

"Because, I w'na forget about you!!" The scream she had in her lungs to convey her anger gets stuck in her throat. His shoulders slump from the burden of guilt and regret.

"Why?" He feels like throwing up with the unbearable anguish of him hurting to a point he wants to wash his memories out of her mind.

"Because you make me so confused, Harry…" Her face pinches into an exasperated expression of hopelessness while she nudges him aside to pass by him and to the main door but he catches her wrist before she could step outside and never come back to him, "I wouldn't confuse you from now on …. 've been better fo' you y/n, 'cos I want you to know that I'm yours." His confession springes her off guard by pure stupefaction and when she looks at him -- he's already gazing at her as if she's the moon surrounded by singing stars.

"Please, let me fight for you baby." Tears springs at his waterline ready to welcome a sob out of his lungs. Because he knows he'll be unable to live his life without her, his love will rot in the cage of his heart because he'd never be able to express it for anyone except her.

He continues not holding back anything from her instead unlocking another love language and that's being vulnerable and completely defenceless to her, "While being with you I still thought a part of me was in love with my ex and I didn't want ya to be me second priority, could neve', was so so wrong 'cos even though you're not my firsts you're gonna be my lasts. I'll make sure that you're." He gulps down the tears blocking his wind pipes and making it difficult to speak.

"I want you to give us another chance, to forgive me and give me a proper chance to love you 'cos that's what you deserve . .." The sincerity and genuineness in his stained smaragdine irises turns her pudgy in his hold, ". . . you deserve all the lovin' in this world, honey."

"Work for it then." She tells him and his pretty eyes widen adorably as of some golden fish, a vivacious smile adorns his features and he doesn't take a moment before swiping her off her feet and into his arms to hug her tightly.

His insides feels like nourishing after a time with contentment and satisfaction.

To have his loved one in his arms.

In his life.

"Thank you, Thank you, Thank youuu." He rambles into the crook of her neck, elated and joyful. Swaying their bodies together and making her smile softly after a prolonged time of suffering.

She'll heal.

He'll make sure to put ointment of affection and love on her wounds to help her heal, for herself but nobody else.

"You've got to be kidding me!" She mutters putting the alcohol swab on his torn bleeding knuckles and he squeaks locking his calf around her ankle, "Ouch! Ye' mad woman."

Harry and her went to file a report against Kevin, along with Nora who became her witness because she despises that disgusting of a man to be even around her and her studio let alone her boyfriend.

Harry was her biggest support through the whole process and dropped her off assuring her he'll pick all her stuff from Nora's place. There he was, Kevin. Stumbling at the footpath after Nora kicked him and his luggage out.

Harry's very patient and optimistic but not when his loved ones get hurt. He didn't know what was happening around him before he sprinted towards Kevin and punched him square in his face, breaking his nose and busting his own knuckles with a fierce shout of "y'son of a bastard!"

"If I ever . . . ever see ya near her, I promise that you wouldn't be able to see the living daylight." He grunted, resisting to hit him in the shin with his boots and walked past him to the studio to collect her stuff.

He was grief stricken seeing the way she had to live and not finding her pet cat anywhere. His heart could be heard cracking into tinytinytiny pieces when Nora told him that Y/N gave it to the vet since she was unable to afford it.

When she catches him staring up at her like a love-stricken puppy she huffs wrapping a band-aid around his knuckles, "'M mad at you." He seems unfazed making her gasp when brings her closer with his legs wrapped around her's, "Why . . . you're always mad at me." He whines jutting out his bottom lip and she shakes her head at his silly dotiness.

"You -– you can't go hurtin' yourself fo' me, H." She's very unaware, because certainly he'd do it as many times.

She narrows down her eyes to squint him in offense when he brushes her comment off with nonchalance and raises his bandaged wrist up to her face, "Will you kiss it better' fo' me, pet?" Her insides crumbles like dry rose petals falling from a beloved book of her favourite romances.

"Hmm?" He nudges it in a questioning suppressing a smirk. She wipes her clammy and antiseptic hands down her trousers not meeting his gaze while taking his hand awkwardly but delicately closer to where her soft mouth is located; she halts glowering at him, "Only if you ask nicely."

"That wasn't nice? Thought I was being a good boy there." He mumbles diligently pulling at the hem of her shirt and she bites down a smile, fingers still wrapped round his wrist.

"Pretty please…?" He wheezes his words out begging-ly -- upper lip curving, pupils dilating and she shrugs, "..if you insist so.." His grin was immaculate that of golden sun when she pressed her lips to his knuckles carefully giving it a gentle pat afterward.

"Not doing that again." She breathes out the air she was winding up inside her for so long. Spinning on her heels to turn her back towards him and put the first aid back under the sink, "We'll see 'bout that, let's do some grocery." He stands up patting his thighs loudly, "Wouldn't be surprised if we'll find bugs in me cabinet instead of goodies."

They've been roaming isles for an hour now and they always end up fighting who will push it. Harry doesn't let her because she keeps on filling it with instant noodles, chocolate bars and sakurai oreos.

"How about we try to live till our fifties wouldn't be that beautiful?" He follows behind her closely. His chest brushes against her shoulders everytime she makes a stop to cooes over some brightly coloured food and candies, "'M trying to make it till next year, dunno 'bout you." She mutters grumpy-ly tossing another packet of cherry lollipop inside the trolley.

He puts it back.

With a strict warning glare to her way.

"I want you to stay healthy." He says sternly glaring up at her from his ducked position. She tosses the lollipop back from the shelf, "'M paying for my things." She dismisses him off panning deadly.

"Fo' fucks sake, 's not 'bout money!" He grits annoyed at her stubbornness and she arches her brow leaning against the trolley, "Harry…'m not an actress or some high-paid model. Lemme enjoy real things, okay? Or just say you'd look too outta my league standing next to me." Her brows pints down into a frown and her shoulder slumps with her body further relaxing against the trolley.

She's up for a debate with him right in the middle of the junk food aisle if that's the case.

"See. That's why I don't want to be married!" A couple from far banters off in astonishment catching Y/N completely off guard.

"Uh-ah!" She yelps getting startled from the boom of interruption and a high-pitch squeaks leaves out of her petite lungs when the trolley rolls from under her perched elbow making her stumble for a nice trip but the bang never came as Harry coiled his arm around her waist to pull her on stable feet with a firm hand over her smallest of back.

His gentle pupils flicker between her frenzied one's, noses tickling and teasing each other with each spurt of breath that rushes out of her parted soft mouth and against his cheek.

"Maybe it's not that bad after all." The couple who were planning their future based on another couple, who's not even a couple yet but trying to work on it with their shared amount of affection; sighs in awement leaving Harry and Y/N in their own bubble.

He takes her by the elbow and helps her with his lips thinned, "Careful there." His mumble is deep and coherent husk.

She didn't whine about his green vegetables, boring low fat cheese and planned meals, celery or whatever that shit is, after that. Walking by his side like a kid who just got relief from his time out punishment.

While on the counter she asked him politely rather than biting his head of, "Lemme pay please. I'm already imposing on you by staying at your place." She knows that he wouldn't let her. Harry wants to take care of her -- in every way. He just hopes she warms up to him slowly that there will be a day she thinks of his home as hers too, oh how the table turns!

T'not make her think that his love for her is only restrictive to materialistic things he lets her pay --- but for half of it.

"D'ya got a change, miss?" The cashier asks her and she cranes her neck up to him. He denies waving his credit card with a disappointed expression so she quickly takes a chewing gum from the racks beside in return for the change.

He stops in his tracks. Watching her with glinting eyes more like fawning at her when she sways on her feet happily swinging the bag in her hold side by side.

"C'mon Harry!" She grins twiddling her fingers in a gesture to usher him where she's standing beside his car, "Yup. On your command, darlin'." He shakes his head. To fetch himself from the fond-land he always enters with anything she does.

There's a low hum of telly buzzing in the room as they sit crossed legs on the coffee rug with their knees brushing if any of them moves their bum a tad, while they slurp onto the remaining soup in the noodles cup.

This whole time he wanted to say something, to talk to her, his heart out and make it a domestic routine of sharing stuff while they eat comfy in eachother's presence but seems like his tongue betrays him everytime and his needy eyes always want to admire her and the little things she does.

He licks his lips, nodding profusely when she asks for his cup and chopsticks to take to the kitchen. A huge sigh of relief vanishes out from his chest when she disappears inside giving him time to re-collect himself, he rummages through the bag to take out the chewing gum they bought at the last moment.

He rips the packet with his teeth but it remains pressed there between his morals when he senses the familiarity of the foil --- she bought a fucking condom out of accident!

At the same moment she pads outside halting in her tracks infront of him with a horrendous expression as her peepers wouldn't stop blinking. He doesn't not know what got into him but he throws it her way as if he's utterly disgusted by it.

Sinks into the couch and refuses to meet her gaze. She throws it back at him, "I don't want it, keep it you might need it." There he goes. The smugness fuels back as he outstretches his arm over the back of the couch and man-spreads scrutinizing the way her eyes linger at his meaty thighs before flicking them away with a nervous gulp.

"You've already planned it all out, hun?" He smirks rubbing the belly of his nose with his pinky's knuckle and she folds her elbows under her breasts shaking her head at his teasing, "Yeah planning to . . . murder you t'night." She laughs out evilly when his eyes widen comically.

"Hmm. I see. Didn't know ye' were this kinky 'n naughty." She rolls her eyes at his edgy nip. She wouldn't admit it but him testing her patience turns her hot and flustered.

"Night, H." She yawns and his heart grows ten times bigger at the softness of her appearance. She cranes her head against her shoulder to look at him from the spot she's standing at when his voice calls for her, "Y/N!? Ye'really into knives? In the bed I mean." His grin mischievous knowing fully well what he's doing to her as he waits for her answer propped on his knees.

She slams the door at his face and he plops back into the sofa with a pouty victorious smile.

Harry didn't realise that in the middle of watching Gilmore Girls on the telly he fell asleep straining his neck from keeping it in a weird angle, his arms hugging the pillow and feet dangling adorably nowhere. He groans knuckling away the sleep and tries to wake up when he heard a feeble noise of someone taking his name until he looks up and finds Y/N towering him with her fluffy cream blanket pinched around her head darlingly.

"What happened, pet? Y'okay!?" He gasps trying to sit up and take her precious face to inspect her properly but she shakes her head and lays him back gently.

Her nose runny and cheeks rosied as she asks for a favour from him, "Can I -- um," She wipes her nose with the sleeve of her sweater paw. He doesn't question her further and opens his long arms to welcome her for a warm embrace.

"C'mere, pet." His whisper delicate to her.

She lies down pressed to his front resting her head on his sprawled arm and scooches herself closer to him smiling shyly against his hoodie where a Harry is embroidered in pink thread. It's like a gust of fresh spring and dew of nighty mountains as Harry takes a relaxing breather snuggling her impossibly affectionately close to himself, petting down her sweet smelling hair.

"Y'can talk to me 'bout anythin'." Their heart-beats in sync as he keeps his palm spread at her back to protect her from falling, "Ye' know that right?" He pulls back to cradle her chin between his fingers and look her in eyes sincerely.

"I know that button. Sleep for now, hmm?" He smiles softly, shutting his eyes from giving out how much a mere love name's enough to fuse him into a cloud of giddiness.

In the morning though, Harry's a small spoon and Y/N a big one. Her limbs trying to latch to his body in every way possible with her cheek smashed against his shoulder blade.

His lips quirks up into a lazy loopy smile full of contentment and peacefulness as he weaves his each finger into her's to bring her knuckles to his mouth and smother it in kisses, "Rise n' shine you furball." He rasps. chin doubling adorably as he tries to look at his squirmy girl.

He turns to face her side, temples touching and lips hovering over eachother's skin. He feels her smiling against his chin as she cuddles up into him, "I'd like to make you a brekkie…." She murmurs playing with baby curls on the nape of his neck.

"Dunno 'bout that. What if you poison me, t'death?" He giggles and she smacks his belly pouting grumpy-ly.

"Offer, expired. no more brekkie for you." She tells him wiggling out of his grip and walks towards kitchen but burst into gleeful laugh when he wraps around her calves like a koala bear, "Was jokinnnn', babe." He emphasizes his words with a twinge of whine and she meanders her hand in his ruffled curls.

"Kay! Kay! But, I could only make you omelette and sour bread." He jumps back on his feet enthusiastically looping his arm around her clavicles, "No problem. Glad t'eat anythin' made from your lovely hands."

She made him brekkie and he made fabulous peach tea for them. She blabbered off and he listened with careful ears. He praised her with glinting proud eyes and she treasured these praises in her heart.

While she chewed slowly he messaged his manager that he couldn't come to any working place for a week or so. He wants to make it special and memorable for them, their honeymoon phase.

"D'ya have any class today?" He asks her leaning towards her atop the counter, "Nope 's Saturday dummy." She chuckles flicking her thumb against his forehead and he gives a dimpled grin with bolted shut eyes.

"Yeah �� silly me."

"Why?"

"So that I could take ye' ona date." His inners bouncing desperate to know her answer, "Me?" She points at herself surprised with parted lips.

"Yes you, is there somebody else sitting with us? Hello?" He calls for that non-existent person and she suckles her bottom lip to subside her squeals down. She breathes out, "Some ghostie? Evil spirit? Jesus himself —-" She cuts his banter of. With a light slap to the back of his hand.

"Okay." She says with an excited shake of head happiness bare in her words and Harry literally slips from his seat padding towards her in haste, "I'd love to." She confirms with a sweet smile and he hooks his nimble finger around her jeans loop to pull her closer to him for a fervid emotional hug.

She was a frolic mess in her room trying out her outfits and fitting into her skirts, trousers anything that could match perfectly. Deciding to terminate any ideas to wear cotton floral sun-dresses instead ends up tucking a baby pink sweater into her chequered white and black plaid trouser along with a pair of Mary Janes booties.

She took huge puffs of breath to calm her wild heart down when the knock on her door appeared. He decided to be a full on romantic today doing all the date rituals without any shame dressing up in a silk shirt three shades lighter than her's, with a pussy bow around his neck and she thinks she couldn't be more in love with him as he has a bunch of sunflowers and jasmines in the cracks of his jewels adorned fingers.

"Well, well, well, Look who came to their enemy's door holding presents." She smirks and he scowls, "Oh cut it. 'M here to pick y'up fo' our date."

What makes her lose her mind's Zippy on his shoulder.

"Oh my goodness! Harry!" She leaps towards him and takes her fluffy beast in her arms and showers Zippy's crown with many many kisses, "Thank you!" She cries out joyfully wrapping her free arm around his waist and cuddles him for dear life.

"I lo —-- " She thinks it'd be embarrassing to say it on the first date and Harry almost had a mini heart-attack but she changed her words, "I can't be more grateful to you, thank you so much."

"Now, stop thankin' me hunny." He gives her the flowers he plucked himself from his backyard and kisses the apple of her cheek turning her into a gooey mesh.

"Where is it?" She avoids checking him out.

"Why should I tell ya?" He nudges her to lock her elbow around his and she gazes up at him with loving eyes, "'cos 'm your date that's why."

"Bribe me then." He grins bashfully.

"Harry!!" She gasps and huffs tipy-toeing timidly to plant a soft kiss to his chin but it lands against his throat making him thin his lips to give out a noise that could embarrass both of them.

"Not telling you." He squeaks dragging her outside into the porch and she whines, "You leech!"

"You did not!" She snaps her neck in utter exhilaration from the view in front of her and towards Harry who's watching her with puffed cheeks to not to give out his bunny smile as her face turns guppy. The sunshine dawdles around them and she pulls him down to her level with the tug of their intertwined hands, "You're somethin' else, Styles." It warms his blood. Bursting sentiments of pure love and amiability through each orifice that leads to his heart.

"Only fo' you." He whispers stroking the plush of her cheek -- restraining to place his needy lips on her alluring pillow one's inviting him to have a good taste of their sweetness before they could taste the ripeness of strawberries growing at the farm he just took her.

"Uhm. Let's see who could collect more!" She grins pushing herself three steps away from him with support of his pecs, "What's the prize?" He asks pawing at her hips to keep her in intimate distance and she giggles tapping his chin.

"A feeling of saccharine-ss and sweetness when we'll eat those strawberries out." She tries not to step on heavy branches that are still growing and makes her way to the fresh patch, "Perhaps, that could be acquired from eatin' somethin' else out too." His wet lips brushes against her earlobe as he speaks, sending a shiver down her spine.

"You're being very loud and lewd." She pokes him in ribs. Squatting down to pluck a juicy perfectly sized strawberry and hovering it against his mouth to give him a taste, "Hmm what could I say 'm a man of dirty words." His eyes darken to an intoxicating shade of emerald as his heart-shaped magenta lips wrap around the strawberry to split it in two with his teeth.

He still remembers. How her mouth tasted that night, how her lips came molding around his's like a stamp of a lover's letter and her body fitted against his's like a lost piece of puzzle.

Just made for him.

"Harry …" She's out of words. Maybe, breath.

"Yes dovie?" He hooks his finger into her belt's loop to saturate the thread like distance between them and makes tight hold at the nape of her neck to crane her head up to meet his honey eyed gaze, "D'ya know how to make strawberry mochi?" His shoulder slumps at her question and he rests his cheek atop her temple cutely.

"Noo." His voice sort of whine-y.

"No, problem. We'll make it together." She chuckles turning back to collect the strawberries into her basket.

She never had this fun. Messing around with him. Feeding eachother the sweet fruit. Him scaring her that some rat sprinted by her feet and enjoying the way she jumps at him, only wheezing comically when she throws a blow at him.

Her giggles bounces off each and every ivory flower and leafy plant as he pins her to the viridescent grass, with his thighs and tickles her non-stop. What started as raspberries turns into sloppy smothers of kisses all over her face.

"Harry!!" She bursts into another fit of laughter, "Stop." She warns him squeezing her thighs around his waist and he giggles challenging her.

"O'what? Huhh?" She closes her eyes nuzzling into his arm that's trapping her down, "Or I'll kiss you…" Her voice gentle and dulcet making his grip loosen and heartbeat fastens like a thunderbolt.

"'M not afraid of that." He gives a toothy grin sneaking a glance at her hand which's gliding up his throat to cup his cheek, eyelids fluttering like petals from breeze as she smudges her sweet mesh coated lips against his's in a tenderly ardent, and yearningly amiable kiss feeling her pulse ring in her ears with so much force.

His fingers make their home down her smooth hair to cup the nape of her neck, elbows digging into mud when he lifts her up to deepen the kiss sloppily. Just her. Only her. Swirling inside of him as his very thought.

Their noses crooking perfectly, skins kissing and bodies hitched to eachother with the knot of souls.

She whimpers into his mouth squishing the poor strawberry she was holding in her free hand from the intensity of fierce sentiments she's spiraling in; to have him all and swallow him all because he's that damn gorgeous. His tongue pokes and tickles the plush insides of her small mouth tasting the strawberry straight from where he loves the most. His belly burning with the fire of desire feeling the way her body's reacting with puriency to his subtle touches of affection.

He was dying to have a kiss from her the day she gave him her lips that night and he couldn't resist but to think about it regularly.

A wet filthy sound bubbles around them when they part away with the remnants of spit in the form of intricate strings connecting them; that breaks when he relaxes his forehead against her's taking a good breather of mossy air.

"S' messy." He tuts when his eyes fall at her palm covered in strawberry pulp.

She gasps giddy-ly when he pokes his pink tongue out and takes a huge swipe up her palm with an erotic hum that rattled her insides.

"H -- arry." She nibbles at her bottom lip to filter noises she's unable to hold meanwhile he sucks her fingers one by one to clean them, her panties twisting with an ache of want.

"Hmm. All nice 'n clean, now we should go." He says flipping her wrist to act as if he's inspecting it. Brushes the dirt of his trousers leaving her baffled and grumpy. When she doesn't stand up he squats down at her level arching a brow at her and before she could know what's happening she's thrown over his broad shoulder like a rag doll.

Her squeals hearty and giggly as she tries to punch his back but her breath gets caught in her throat when his large hand comes spanking her butt-cheek. He waits for her reaction —- grinning cheekily when she sucks in her weak mewls and grabs the back of his neck blabbering his name off.

He puts her back on the ground once out on the gravel path and hands her the basket piled with strawberries. Ducks down to sponge a kiss to her cheek telling her to stay glued to her spot as he leaves to pay.

She smiles down at her feet then at the sky revinding all the moments and their lovely kiss that makes her feel all warm and stupidly gooey.

While boarding the train he wiggles his finger behind himself to get a hold on her and keep her close to him, craning his neck with a lopsided sly smile, "Hold me hand."

"If you insist." She nods with a grin slipping her fingers over his palm and he wovens them with his own with a firm grip stepping inside the train and helps her to do so with his free hand behind her head.

She sighs. Sitting with her back pressed against the window of the train. One leg folded and other dangling from the seat as she stares at Harry with a pouty smile.

"Don't ya think you're sittin' too far away from me?" He says, grabbing her knee, "Come here." And slides her towards himself now their thighs overlapping. He doesn't like even the mere distance between them —-- might sound sappy but he wants to be like her scent.

"Happy?" She pinches his cheek and he winces dramatically ruffling her already loose tresses of hair making her look as if she was on a roller coaster minutes ago, "aren't you a one clingy bunny!" She huffs trying to blow away the hair falling in her eyes. He bobs his head in agreement and slings his elbow around her shoulders to tuck her under his chin protectively.

"Okie, now add some sugar in it —- aish slow down …" She coughs waving away the sugar dust tickling her nostrils as Harry poured so much sugar all at once. He has his chin rested on her head and her hips crooned against his thighs as they make the strawberry and vanilla mochi together.

His puffer jacket on her shoulders (To the time they went to buy grocery stuff it started being cold and Harry being a mommy he took out his jacket and bundled her up in it) —- She sneezes and he quips pecking her hair, "Bless your heart." Fetches her a tissue too.

"Thank you, bubs." She giggles grabbing his jaw bringing him down to smooch a kiss to his lips. She pulls back but he persists snaking his palm around the nape of her neck to keep her put —- she gives in with her heart fluttering like candle flame in a destructive storm.

Turns in his embrace and hooks her elbows behind his head patching tiny, tiny, tiny pecks on his pillowy lips until he gets desperate to kiss her mouth and tongue pushing her to his front by gliding his hand into the back-pocket of her jeans.

Her head lulls. Feeling as if the kitchen got filled with candy clouds floating around her when he cradles her cheeks in his both palms lapping at her bottom lip and nips at it with every whimper of desire that falls, "Mine." He breathes out rubbing the bridge of his nose up and down her cheek like a puppy nuzzling into his favourite plushie.

"Yours." She says without any hesitation.

He smashes his wet lips back on hers. Swirls of gleeful colours surrounding them as he feels like he could kiss her forever.

She gasps gazing down lustfully at his wine cherried lips when he holds her from waist and sits her on the wooden counter, "I want you to take me." She murmurs nailing at the silk of his top and he paws at her hip-bones cravingly, it makes her feel like one the most desired women alive.

"I'm all yours to pleasure you lovie'," He looks her in the eyes with so much love and affection it melts her whole, "Just ask me and I'll give me girl what she wants …. " He says trailing sloppy kisses down her throat. Her head falls against the tiled wall giving him more access to her skin --- so he could mark her as he wishes.

The heat from his mouth to her bare skin arouses her to an extent she feels wetness sticking to the insides of her thighs with each grind of his crotch against her's.

She tugs at the roots of his curls, mouth parted around a moan when he grazes his touch over her plump breasts, "Is this okay?" He asks breathlessly and she bobs her head vigorously latching onto him.

"Yes, please, more … " He blinks to let reality sink in when she raises her arms in the air for him to get rid of her clothes.

He smiles. Hard. Crinkles forming by his eyes and cheery lines around his mouth as she looks up at him with those doe eyes glinting with his own reflection.

She squirms grumpily and he cackles loudly when she hooks his fingers into the hem of her jeans as a sign that "just undress me right now and fuck me hard over this counter." But, the romantic sap he's just keeps on being a tease.

"Fuck me already." She huffs locking her ankles behind his back.

"Trust me, I want it as bad as y'do but are you sure —-- "

"I'm --- just fuck …. " She cuts him off, cupping his cheeks and kisses his mouth. He groans when she sucks his swollen lip in between his teeth and lifts her pelvis grinned against his swell lining in his trouser to elaborate her neediness through actions,

He undresses her finally folding them and putting them away nicely while she stays a breathless mess just in her undies, her sheer panties soaked in her juices and profanities of moans fuses into air from both of them as Harry places his hands on her knees. Irises darkening with lust when he looks at the delicate lines of her drippy pussy lips forming from underneath the material.

"Spread your legs, I want to feel how turned on I made you feel." His voice an obscene grunt and it tingles her core making her feel she should obey him, "Fuckin' hell." His moan is dirty as he rubs the pad of his long digits against her soaked centre. His piercing gaze flitting between her thighs crumbled her in the best way possible.

She fists the hem of his top, tugging at it with the blabbering of his name.

A series of pornographic whines leaves her through her nose when he demands her to raise her bum so he could get rid of the last thing being a bother to them.

"Oh my — " She arches her spine when his fingers withered in her stickiness, between her glistening pussy lips to her mound pinching her clitoris in the way and listens to the soapy noises he's creating while lathering his hand with her juices he'd love more to coat his tongue with.

"This is what you want, hmm? For me to bend you over this counter right fucking now and pump me thick cock inside your sweet cunt from behind till you're screaming for me to ram harder inside you, so deep that you feel me in your little tummy and I keep it there for hours making you cum on it again and again — many time that you're milky and cramped around my prick like a filthy girl you're." He dips his impossibly sweet pink tongue inside her mouth and makes her sip down his dirty words through her throat not letting her mewls slip out as his lengthy finger slicks inside her causing her melt against his chest with a turmoil of emotions and heat she never felt before.

Her brain whirles with the mantra of fuckfuckfuck but her guppy lips says otherwise, she coils her arms around his shoulders scratching her nails down his neck — eyes rolling back as she shakes with the build of ecstasy.

"You're so snug and warm, sweets. Can't wait to be inside you." He husks curling his digit to give her upper wall a good rub, "Harry!" Her scream comes out gruff vibrating with a sexy octave.

"Yes, baby." He pinches her chin between his thumb and forefinger staining soft wet kisses from the corner of her lips, to her rosy cheeks and down her throat sewing love bites along her veins.

"Does it feel good, hmm? 'M g'na stuff you full of my prick bet it'll make you feel like heavens --" Her brows tenses up as he forces her to keep her eyes locked with his's and groans with the throb in his cock bound to implode with each whimper of his name she lets out hiking up her knees on the counter — the heels of her feet sticking firmly against the edge of the counter giving a carnally pleasing view for him to enjoy and ooze with sticky precum.

He huffs out breathily, fingers sliding in and out at a fast pace while he moves down to take her perky nipple between his teeth teasing it with nip of his tongue, "Fuck. Mhmm baby I've so many dirty things to d'to you, would you be an atta girl and be naughty with me?" He nuzzles his curls against her skin grinding his knuckles up and down against her swollen clit.

"Yes, yes, yes." She moans trying to sink impossibly deep on his fingers. He admires her in amusement as her belly twists into ripples and she thrashes in his tight hold —- broken into pieces of vulnerability foxily.

He withers his gaze to where he's driving his fingers roughly inside her and a cold shiver runs down his spine, eyelashes fluttering and he sucks his bottom lip brutally praising her softly, "yes just like that darling taking my fingers so good —- they'll look pretty down your throat too while I'll fill your other holes with me, all me." He wraps a hand around her throat giving it a light squeeze and it was enough to spread warmth and the saccharine feeling of fullness in her every tissue gushing over his fingers.

"You're mine." He growls nipping at her sweet spot –-- wearing her out with his continuous different motions inside her. His wrist glistening with her come and her head lulls on his tanned shoulder, eyes slip shut, chest levitating with shallow breaths.

She cups his cheeks wrapping her trembling legs around his waist and kisses his smile, it's sloppy and barely a kiss with their lazy effort to keep their mouths on each other to soak into intimacy.

Next they're a moaning and crying mess on the kitchen floor with her knee hooked around his hip to keep him close as he stretches her out leaving a pleasurable burn against her squishy inviting walls.

His cock sits warm inside her pussy and his balls snug against her bum. It's torturous waiting for her to give a signal that he might move because he couldn't resist but to be rock hard inside her and fuck her for hours but his knees are laughing at him for being unable to bear the sting of cold tiles.

"You can move, 'm okay." She whispers hugging him for dear life and he nods grinding his hips slowly, the bulbous head of his dick hitting all the right spots —- he's so good at fucking.

He takes her fleshy tits in his palms caressing them with each lewd stroke of his cock inside her and treats her glistening lips from his spit back to his mouth, pecking it generously.

"Pull me hair." He groans pushing hard and guides her hand into his swirl of sweaty curls — hips stuttering, eyes rolling back into his skull erotically when she does so peppering loving kisses under his earlobe, "You're g'na ruin me lovie … fuck me please." He whines grabbing her ass and lifts her pelvis to slide inside her dripping pussy with much more roughness.

She has never seen him like this. Shredded to seams for her, sweat beading down his gorgeous face like glimmer of pearls and eyes mossed with so much lust and desperation it knocks air out of her lungs.

He rolls them over gently and her squeal turns into a shameless yawp when he feels much more bigger than before inside her with her being on top of him —- he was right she could feel him in her tummy.

She's clueless what to do. Not that she's gonna show it –- she doesn't want to give him an impression that she knows barely anything about riding but the way she begins with zealous back and forth movement digging the heels of her palms against his pecks wrecks him havoc.

"You're doin' so good pet, yes, yes, yes. Use me baby. Use me like your little fuck toy 'm c'mon." He grabs the nape of her neck and brings her down to skim his tongue over her lips, manipulating the plushiness of them with his teeth. His balls slapping against her skin as she bounces on his cock diligently and he fists the soft flesh of her bum with both of his hands to help her ride him knows she's labouring herself out, "I'm all yours." He says caressing her sides to make sure she's okay and brushes the wisp of sticky hair behind her ear.

"You're looking so sexy sitting on my dick like that -- how about I don't allow you to cum so you could keep me warm with your pussy like that fo' hours?" His pants out gripping at her thighs as his prick spills with wetness inside her and she cries out shaking, "No!" He smirks crinkled forming by his eyes and takes this chance to drive hard up inside her making her flop onto his chest.

She gasps moistly, pulsating around him feeling every ridge and vein of his cock stroking against her walls creating obscene noises of skin meeting skin and their moistures mixing soapily like gooe.

"Cum fo' me baby -- squeezing me s' tight. I know you're there." His pants laboured and heavy as he sucks his own digits coating them with his spit nicely and glides them down pressing them to her weeping bud, then flickers it in prolong circles. Toes curling. His thrusts consistent and fast. She crooks her nose against his's murmuring to him with a wavering voice.

"I'm gonna cum, fuck."

"You're gonna make me come."

Her eyes widen in surprise but her body reacts otherwise albeit she has never experienced it —- but her moans were uncontrollable when he spanked her butt cheek and she crampied down at him jolting tremendously with the wave of insanity spreading to her bones.

"I'm a naughty boy, give it to me." He kisses his teeth together man spreading and throwing his knees up to ram up inside her perfectly.

His eyes shuts till he could see white spotting behind them -- he spills inside her in form of thick ribbons and milks her cunt with it riding her out of her high. She clings to his body and snuggles into him to tone down the shivers running down her spine with each tiny orgasm she feels rushing out with his lazy thrusts.

"I'm jello." She tells him and he looks down at her with a mishevious grin, "Does that give me a reason to eat you whole?" She rolls her eyes poking at his cheek with a grossed out expression.

"I'm still inside ye', remember?" He stirs his hips to make her realise and she yelps not know if it's making her feel hot or utterly sensitive, "You're insatiable." She mumbles pouting her lips to indicate him she's dying for his lips to smooch kisses to her.

"No kidding I love the noises you make when you come undone." She confesses timidly drawing stars at his chest and he giggles kissing her temple gently, "Stop before you wake me buddy up again –- he quite fond of you." He blushes hiding his face into the crook of her neck with tiny voice.

They're canoodling under the fluffy blanket on the sofa watching telly after they just took a bath together, shampooing eachother with peach scents and drying eachother off with warm towels. She's nuzzled into his side wearing one of his baby yellow robes, his arm stays around her shoulder thumb addicted to caressing her silky cheek, sometimes spreading his fingers down her throat to tip her chin up to smooch sweet kisses on her lips.

"You're cute when you're not a pest." She giggles and he frowns comically pretending to munch her alive, "That's very rude -- you should be thankful that I lov — " Her heart almost stops functioning.

They were sipping onto their green teas and nibbling onto the strawberry mochi they made and refrigerated before when the doorbell rang making them groan in laziness.

She stood up going to see what took Harry so long on the door and got revealed to him talking instinctively to whoever rang the bell.

"Hi, Y/N." Scottie smiles at him. Carrying her luggage and Y/N looks down at her attire for a second then forwards her hand shyly. She was so scared that day –- it's a blur to her but now she watches Scottie properly she realizes …. She's the same girl from all the paparazzi photos.

Something switches off inside her. The rainbows and confettis, the moonlight and stars and the nebula of the whole galaxy she had consumed in her little body from making love to Harry just shuts down into a white noise.

Her bottom lip plumps into a pout. Eyebrows trembling from this confused feeling of some invisible thing squeezing the life out of her.

She's jealous.

"I just came here to say bye." Scottie's voice makes her focus back into reality.

"Oh…" She just nods. She doesn't return the hug even though her brain guilt trips her for that and when Scottie leaves with the air thick and tense, Harry corners her in between a wall and piece of furniture cradling her grumpy face in his careful palms speaking gently to her.

"You don't 'ave to worry 'bout her, she's just a friend …. Infact you don't have to worry 'bout anyone because I love you so so much baby that I don't see myself spending me life with anyone else." She glances up at him twice, jaw falling slack from shock and he chuckles smothering her in kind-hearted kisses when she stares at him like a hawk.

"You what!?"

"I love you, Y/N." Her eyes closing like a moth flapping nearer to fire and finding peace in burning inside it.

"I love you too so much." She whispers and welcomes his lips melting against her ardently. With the passion only lovers hold. Amiability she couldn't find anyone else but in his embrace, in his kisses and his lovemaking.

"Can we go back to cuddlin'? Me feet gettin' cold baby." He whines treading fastly into the living room while carrying her like a kitten from behind and makes squeaky noises once snoozed under the warmth of the blanket.

He touches their foreheads. Kissing the tip of her nose adorably.

"I love you." Then burst into giggles. When she returns the passion coyly.

"I love you too."

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles one shots #harry styles fanfic #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #Harry Styles fluffy duffy

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