#he may bite at their fingers and place minor curses on their dreams

[asa-do-your-thing]

Fresh Face at Court

Aemond x F!Reader

18+, minors DNI. Smut, praise kink, sexual meet cute i guess?

Your stay in King's Landing was supposed to be brief. Your father - Lord Blacktyde, who had specialized in the trading of old manuscripts - had convinced you to join him on his trip. The court loved to buy all sorts of books and accompanying trinkets from him so he thought it would be the perfect occasion for you to start looking for a husband, as you had just turned sixteen.

It was rather boring, to be frank. Your father had laid out his goods in the library and had let you wander around. Not being acquainted with the grounds of the red keep, you asked the first guard who had crossed your path the way to the gardens. He had duly shown it to you and ran away as quickly as he had come.

It was quiet and lonely. No one was to be seen, so you took out a book from your saddle bag and dove right in. Hours had passed as you snuggled up against a tree and relished the sun's warmth. You didn't notice that you were being watched. Only when hearing someone clearing their throat, you nervously slammed your book shut and glanced around.

Standing a few feet away from you was a tall man with long white, nay, silver hair and a leather eye patch. It must have been one of the Princes, you thought. Which one, you did not know and you cursed yourself for it. "Good afternoon, my Lady", he said calmly. Quickly getting up and dipping into a curtsy, you gave him a shy smile. "Good afternoon, my Prince. I... Uh, Please excuse me, Uhm... I did not notice you, i am so sorry."

His lips lifted into a smirk as he shook his head and picked up your book. "Don't fret. If I may ask, who are you? I haven't seen you in King's Landing before." You blushed even deeper as you took a tiny step towards him, trying to retrieve your book from his grip. It was "How to find & seduce your future Husband" after all and the last thing that you wanted was for him to notice it. "I'm Lord Blacktyde's daughter", you said and saw that he held the book behind his back. Gods be damned, you thought, he didn't want to give it back to you.

He raised an eyebrow and lifted the book above your head, trying his hardest not to get it into your reach. "Hm, that makes sense. What does not make sense, however, is that you do not seem to practice what you have learned. Trying to grab your book from my hands? Not very seductive of you." You blinked a few times before nervously biting your lip. Well, you knew that you couldn't rip it out now, that would've been awkward and childish of you so you devised another plan.

"Well, now that you know what I am reading, my Prince, how could I persuade you to give it back to me?", You stuttered out, barely believing that you managed to say it without melting into a puddle. The mysteriously handsome prince gave you his hand and started leading you back inside the Red Keep. "By showing me what you have learned." Nervously looking around, you tried your best to stall this whole situation. This couldn't be happening! You still had your maidenhead and haven't even kissed a man yet. "I, uh... I.. i haven't...", You tried to say but your feet picked up the prince's pace.

Gently shoving you inside a darkened room, he stretched, like a cat that was ready to pounce on his victim. "You haven't what, my sweet one?", He purred and closed the gap between the two of you. Letting out a nervous sigh, you dropped your head. "I... Don't know your name and I have never done anything and somehow you are making me feel hot and I don't know you-", you babbled. He gently placed his hands under your jaw and pushed your head back up, placing a finger on your shivering lips. "I am Aemond. Do not be afraid - I shall not force you. So if you think that you do not want this, you may leave now. If not... Well, then, be my guest."

Looking up into his serious face made you weak in the knees. It felt like a fever dream so, against all of the feelings of propriety and sensibility, you gently pressed your lips against his finger and gave him a shy smile. "I... Thank you, Ae- Aemond." It seemed like this had flipped a switch in him. His whole facial expression had changed into lust and he did not even wait for a second before undressing you. You could only breath in staccatos - every time his strong, slender fingers had touched you, you thought you would faint.

Sitting on the edge of Aemond's bed, just as the gods made you, you nervously started fiddling with his trousers. Aemond closed his eyes, savoring your gentle touches. "You are doing well, my little one", he moaned and threw the rest of his garments onto the floor gently pushing you into the bed. His encouraging words stoked the fires that were burning within you. Glancing down at his erect member, you involuntary gasped and scooted further up the bed. "Will ... Uhm, will it fit?", You whispered hoarsely, softly caressing it.

Parting your legs, he smiled yet again. "It will, don't you worry." Quickly moistening his finger, he gently opened you up and circled your entrance. Suppressing a moan, you looked up to him and nodded. "Please..." His smile deepened as he pushed his finger into your pulsating hear. "Please what?", He whispered into your ear. You mewled and grabbed a fistful of a pillow. "Please... Don't stop...", You pressed out, feeling your walls clenching against his moving finger. This seemed to encourage him even further as he quickened his pace and gave you a kiss on your sweaty forehead as you came onto him.

"You are such a good girl..." He said as he positioned his member against your wet, throbbing cunt. You nodded again and instinctively tried to push up against him, so that he might enter you. This was all it took for him to go rabid. He pressed his length into you - making you muffle your scream against his muscular shoulder - and rammed you harder with every single thrust.

He bit his lip as he laid his hand over your throat, cutting your air off. "Fuck!" He exclaimed and pressed even harder. You barely had any time to notice what was happening when you felt yourself convulsing, eliciting a small cry. He quickly let you go again and fucked you as roughly as he had started until he tensed up and shot his seed into you.

Collapsing next to you, he let out a small sigh, as did you. A wave of sadness washed over you when you tried to scoot over to him. "Aemond? My Prince?", You asked quietly, half afraid to face him again after this shameful act. To your utmost surprise, he turned to you and pulled you closer. "Yes, my sweet?" You tried your best not to cry. "This is it, isn't it? Should I bid you farewell?" He gave you a genuinely sweet smile. "I don't think so, my sweet. I don't think that I want to let you go."

[theloyaltyofthewolves]

kim seungmin

ah yes, stray kids’ very own demon dog. 

seungmin would sell his teammates to the mafia for like, twenty bucks and a pack of cigarettes if he was in the right mood. i imagine this makes him difficult to live with. i’ve truly never encountered an idol so uncaring in the face of like, authority. respect for your elders? don’t know her. seungmin regularly comes for the entire hyung line, regardless of the fact that two of them could bench press him and the other one’s moral code is a roulette wheel.

i think it probably took seungmin a little while to love his members. he’s not all that good at being vulnerable or opening up and it probably took him a long time to ease off the cold exterior and show his soft side. but seungmin is soft, deep down. when he wants to, when he feels like it, he can be disarmingly genuine and sweet enough to hurt your teeth. he’s not quite a nurturer, but he is the mom-friend. i don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he looks after the rest of the ’00 line. he’s their grounding presence, he takes care of them in ways that i don’t think they even realize, picks them up off the ground and brushes off their clothes, keeps them moving. he’s always at their backs, reliable and steady. he’s got a good head on his shoulders, as my mom would put it. 

because seungmin doesn’t give love easy, but once his teammates got it, there was no going back. he is loyal to the bone and completely devoted. he’d follow his boys anywhere, all the way to the edge of the world and over it. there is something a little bit violent in the way that he loves them, fierce and kind of bloody. active love, that’s what i would call it. that kind of unconditional loyalty is the sort of stuff that poets write epics about, that the old storytellers used to breathe into their heroes. love as a choice, love as a verb. love as a threat and a warning and an act of resistance. these are my people, this is my blood that i have spilled for them. i have chosen to love them and you will not take them away from me. 

his bravery isn’t big or bright like chan or felix. his story is not a star-crossed tragedy like hyunjin or jisung. seungmin is unshakable. dauntless. he’s the responsible one, despite what they all say. he’s the friend who roasts your life choices because you’re a clown and need to hear it, but he’s also the friend who walks your drunk, brokenhearted ass back home and snuggles with you to keep the nightmares away. he’s the one who stays sober when his teammates need to lose their minds. he’s the one who keeps himself together because his boys need to break down, who won’t cry with them but will stand guard as they fall to pieces, who will be at their sides when they need to get back up again. 

his bravery is soft and quiet. he’s not the martyr, he won’t go down in a blaze of glory. he’s not the kid who stands at the frontlines and leads the charge into ruin, the kid with the sword and the violent prophecy. seungmin’s the one who stays. who takes your hand when the lights go out and the walls cave in and doesn’t let go. the one who fights alongside his friends and dies with them, too.

understand me. i’m not like an ordinary world. i have my madness, i live in another dimension and i do not have time for things that have no soul. - charles bukowski

[thesolferino]

Touchdown

⤷ dream x f!reader.

⤷ genre: smut, minors please keep scrolling!

⤷ word count: 3.2k

⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon

— summary: clay loses a football game, and while he’s already mad, you decide to rile him up even more.

“God fucking damnit.”

Clay muttered, pulling his helmet off and slamming it against one of the benches as he said the last word, making you almost jump as you quietly trailed along behind him, feet following in his footsteps. He ran a sweaty hand through his hair, wiping beads of sweat off the sides of his face as he moved towards his locker, carelessly hanging the helmet in its place as he huffed a frustrated sigh.

The locker room was empty, no traces of anyone’s belongings left, as Clay took his sweet time yelling and arguing with the coach after he instructed the rest of the team to change and get out of his sight; everyone had left before he even reached the lockers. The game hadn’t ended well for his team - the game tied, and he was feeling confident, patting their center, Nick, on the back in encouragement, shooting a pearly smile to those who cheered them on and filled the bleachers. They played overtime, and a coin was tossed, during which his team ultimately lost. Looking back on it in the pessimistic state that he was in now, throwing the towel he used to wipe his face at the wall, that should’ve been the first sign it wouldn’t end well. 

The other team scored one final touchdown in the last three minutes of the game, the crowd’s cheers and protests mixing as the opposing team’s points shot up by six, leaving them victorious by one single point and Clay upset, pent up rage and bitterness stuck inside his body with nowhere to go now that the game was over and balls couldn’t be thrown. He stayed arguing with the coach for longer than he should have, even though he simply refused to budge. You’d managed to come down from the bleachers just in time to see him hold back a curse and speedwalk towards the lockers, following close behind, not even daring to call out his name.

“Damnit!” he shouted again, sitting down on the bench, running both of his hands through his hair fervently, huffing out large exhales every time they moved back and forth. The rest of his gear was still on despite coming here specifically to change - his jersey was still draped over his large shoulder pads and chest, one glove on and the other chucked at the wall as well as the towel, shorts and knee pads in place, too. You carefully reached out to place a warm hand on his shoulder, at least giving him some type of assurance, hoping it would calm the fire that burnt in him, mighty and frantic, at least a little. 

It seems to do nothing, though, and the fire in him just keeps growing taller and stronger, flames licking farther up his throat, seconds away from escaping, burning him to ashes.

They do exactly that - they engulf his entire body, and for the split second that his gaze catches yours, you can see his eyes glint with flames, before he stands up so quickly it makes you dizzy, and presses his lips to yours hungrily. His fire engulfed you, spreading through you like an infectious disease, warmness swarming you from head to toe as he pulled you closer to him by the waist, leaving fiery fingerprints everywhere his hands touched you like hot coal.

He grunted into your kiss as he walked forward, backing you into the wall. The kiss was so unruly, so much more dizzying than any of the delicate ones you’d share in your bedroom - it was forceful, daring, scratchy, and when both of his rough arms wrapped themselves around your waist and he murmured: “Jump.” into your mouth, you knew you weren’t leaving that room without bruises. 

Despite being aware of that, though, you couldn’t help but test his dominance, at least a little bit. Being bratty was second nature; after all, you were the air to his fire. When you blew strong enough, you could calm it down, but when you blew however you pleased, you’d ignite it more intensely than any gasoline ever could. And you couldn’t take the fire out this time, so you might as well fuel it to the best of your abilities. 

“I don’t want to. And take off the uniform, you’re not gonna fuck me with those shoulder pads on.” 

He pulled away, staying close enough to your face so you could feel every riled exhale, enough so you could see his jaw clench and green eyes boring into yours so madly that you almost cowered under his gaze - however, you persisted. There was really no reason to answer like that, and both of you knew it, but you wanted to toy with him, have him earn your submission, no matter if he’s pissed out of his mind or not. In hindsight, that may have not been a good idea, and you realised that the longer he said nothing and stared at you in pure anger, but there’s no going back now, is there?

“I’ll fuck you however I want.” Clay muttered through gritted teeth. “And you’ll like it no matter what.”

With that, his arms were back around your hips, lifting you off the ground as if you weighed nothing, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist when he pushed you to lean against the wall. His lips were glued back onto yours in no time, your hand automatically darting to bury itself in his hair and pull, his fingers on your hips so tight they’d surely leave red marks. His lips left yours and you almost whined but held back when they moved to your neck, barely wasting any time before biting down on it, earning a gasp from you that you foolishly hoped he didn’t hear despite knowing there’s no way he missed it. He sucked on it, hard, to the point that you knew there’s no way it could be any shade other than dark, dark purple in a couple days’ time. 

He set you down briefly, and you did your best to try and hide how impatient and upset you were getting, but he grabbed the hem of his jersey and pulled it up, tossing it to the side before getting rid of the shoulder pads as well, your eyes swerving over his sweaty, naked chest as he silently raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to do the same. You did nothing except lift your gaze back to Clay’s and stare at him with no emotion whatsoever.

“Take it off.” He commanded, gaze switching between your chest and eyes, waiting for you impatiently. You exhaled through your nose, just short of a chuckle.

“Do it yourself.” You shot back, seeing him cock his head to the side in an attempt to compose himself and flush down the anger, despite knowing it won’t work. 

“You’re so fucking annoying.” He scowled, hands immediately grabbing at your shirt and pulling it off, fingers quick on your back, fiddling with the clasp of your bra. 

“And yet you still wanna fuck me like a dog in heat.” You retorted when the clasp loosened and he pulled the fabric down your arms, pressing another hungry kiss to your lips while he rolled one of your nipples through his fingers.

“You think you’ll still be talking to me like this when you’re begging me to cum and I say no?” Clay whispers in your ear right before his mouth moves down to circle his tongue around your other nipple, and neither of you fail to notice the goosebumps that cover your whole body. You don’t even get to manage a word out, syllables falling back into your throat when you swallow upon feeling his hands sneak themselves under your skirt, gripping your thighs. 

“With how she’s talking, I’m sure my little brat isn’t wet right now. Right?” you feel your heart speed up when his hand moves a little further to the right and runs his fingers over your damp panties, brushing over your opening, fingers barely ghosting your clit. His pointer finger catches onto the fabric and pushes the underwear aside, leaving space for his middle finger to feel the juices that pour out of you, his touch feeling incredibly cold against your heat, feeling the tips of his fingers coat themselves in you before pulling away. His eyes meet yours paired with a smug smirk that you’ll never get to erase out of your memory.

“Oops.” he grins. “Seems like I was wrong.”

And then, when you least expect it, his fingers shove themselves in you, eliciting a muffled whimper, legs stumbling backwards to lean on the wall again when they start pumping in and out, lewd noises deafening you as you feel drops of wetness slipping down your thighs. He still persistently works his fingers inside your underwear, thumb sneaking inside too to rub at your clit, and that’s when he pushes a moan out of you, a sign of defeat - music to his ears. You can’t help it, can’t help any of it when it feels so good, when every time his wet finger brushes against your clit it sends a jolt through your whole body, your own hands twitching at the movement. 

Your whole body sets aflame, head blazing, sweat escaping through strands of your hair the longer he keeps going, fingers stuffed in you, thrusting in and out like it’s his last, pushing you towards your orgasm more and more. Sure enough, your stomach starts twisting and your abdomen coils, something inside you pushing you off the walls as you arch more and more and grind into his unrelenting fingers. 

“Cl-Clay… fuck, I’m-!” just as the words pass your lips, his fingers pull out, and the pleasure is entirely gone, ripped away from your hands as you stare up at him, feeling betrayed. Your hands instinctively move to your heat, as if of their own free will, but he grabs at your wrist before they make it to their destination.

“Don’t you dare. You come when I say so. I think I’ve made that very fucking clear, haven’t I?” Both of you know he’s stripped you of your brattiness when you say nothing, just swallow to mend your dry throat and quietly nod - you hate it, he loves it.

Clay pulls his shorts and underwear down his legs, and that’s when you realise you’re finally getting what you’ve been waiting for, so you hook your fingers around the waistband and pull your panties down, stepping out of them when you notice his cock, finally free and painfully throbbing as he strokes himself a few times. His eyes catch sight of the way you practically drool watching him, and he does nothing but scoff before your eyes meet.

“Get on the bench. All fours.” He commands and you comply, climbing onto one of them, arms and legs trembling where you place them.

“Watch your balance. I won’t be slow.” Clay says, guiding his cock into you, slowly pushing the tip inside as you hold your breath, waiting for him to just get on with it, already plenty stretched from the way his fingers fucked you open just seconds before.

“Won’t you now?” You murmur in irritation, words escaping you before you can even rationalise the fact that they won’t do you any good right now. “If you can’t play good, at least try to fuck me good.” 

He stopped in his tracks and you froze, only realising that you may have crossed the line after the words were already long out of your mouth, and you opened it to apologise, but didn’t even get to inhale properly when he suddenly buried himself in you to the hilt, almost tearing you apart when his hips collide with yours and you let out a pained yelp, his cock stretching you out ten times more than his fingers had.

You felt his whole hand wrap itself around your throat before he pulled you up by it, pressing his lips close to your ear so you could hear every last breath of his.

“You know I play as good as I fuck - and best believe, I’ll fuck that brat out of you.” Clay growled into your ear before pushing you back down, not even giving you time to grip the bench before pulling out and thrusting back in with a low groan, setting a fast pace from the start.

You bit down on your lip with more and more force with every thrust - he filled you to the hilt every time, and you were sure you were drawing blood by now, a slight metallic taste coating your tongue from how hard you were holding back your moans. You were absolutely not gonna let him fuck the brat out of you.

He kept pumping into you wildly, pace brutal and unforgiving, and it took everything in you to be as quiet as possible, but then you felt a cold finger carefully rub at your sensitive clit, and you couldn’t hold it back anymore, a loud moan getting pushed out of your throat.

“Fuck! Clay…” you whimpered, trying to stabilise yourself on your shaky arms but barely succeeding because the more he pumped inside of you, the more it felt like he was forcing every thought in your brain out, replacing it with only him and his name. The hand gripping your hips left them, grabbing your hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulling it whenever he thrusted back in, making you hiss out in a sick mix of pleasure and pain.

“F-Fuck, I…” your throat ran dry from how fast and ragged your breathing stayed - it felt like he was going faster and faster every second.

“This good enough for you, princess?” he exaggerated, mocking you, a little out of breath himself as he pushed farther and farther, thumb never leaving your clit. You swallowed, not able to give him a proper response besides dumbed down words and broken syllables. He angled himself a little different with the next thrust, which made him dive into a spot he hadn’t touched before, making you see stars as you let out a huge gasp, grabbing at his arm that pulled on your hair in a blind attempt to ground yourself.

“R-Right there… fuck, please don’t-don’t stop!” you cried out, a new wave of heat flooding your entire body as he kept hitting the same spot over and over again, making you blind, white imprinted behind your eyelids. Your brain, along with any rational thoughts turned off completely, leaving you with nothing but moans and gasps of his name and how scarily good his cock felt in you.

You felt your climax creeping up on you, slowly but surely, the heat from every part of your body accumulating in the pit of your stomach, feeling the knot ready to come undone any second now. You clenched around him painfully, unable to help the spasms, seconds away from orgasm to the point you could practically taste it. It seemed like Clay could taste it, too, because he slowed down, thrusting into you lazily, like he hadn’t fucked your brains out a moment ago.

“Say sorry.” he said, voice as stable and confident as ever, unwavering compared to your shaky, barely still there one. 

“Wh-what?” It took the words a second to make their way from your ears to your brain, hazy mind clouded with nothing but him, unable to process what he’s even saying when he’s buried so deep in you.

“I said, say sorry.” he bumped into your sweet spot once again, leaving you mewling and your eyes closing on their own.

“I’m sorry. So sorry.” you stuttered, trying to piece your thoughts together while you could.

“Sorry for what?” he asked. “Sorry for the things you said, or sorry because you know I won’t let you come?” 

“I’m-I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t-… I promise I didn’t mean it… Please, let me come, baby…” you whimpered out, grabbing at his arm again, trying to gain the little bit of sympathy you hoped he still had left.

“You’ll have to beg a little harder for me to even think about it, princess.” he chuckled, like the whole thing was damn hilarious, working his fingers on your clit again as your breathing stammered and you fought your best to get some words out.

“God, baby, please, you-you know I didn’t mean it… I’m sorry, so sorry…” you breathed out with another tired gulp. “You-...I-... please, baby, you can’t do this, I’m sorry, okay?”

“I can do whatever I fucking want to and I have some reason for it. What’s stopping me from using you like my own little fuckdoll right now and leaving you here with nothing except my own cum dripping out of you? What’s stopping me?” Clay snapped, pulling you by the hair again. You gulped again, feeling actually nervous this time.

“I… Please, baby, I won’t do it again, I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t mean any of the stuff I said, please, can you just-” 

He interrupted you mid sentence with such a rough thrust that you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, his fingers back on your clit, feeling like you’re getting lifted up to the skies themselves once again. He managed to find the same angle, hitting the spot that made you feel hell and heaven all at once, pleasure prickling at every part of your body as you loudly moaned, putting no effort into concealing it or keeping silent anymore.

You felt the knot in your stomach once again, quicker than ever, slowly unraveling itself and your cries turned into ramblings, begging him to let you come.

“Pl-please, can I please… Fuck! Please, can I- I’m so close, shit, baby, can I please-” you stuttered, tears starting to pool in the corners of your eyes as you could almost touch your climax.

“Fuck, baby. Come for me.” 

As soon as the words escaped his lips, you felt the knot finally untie itself and you let out a guttural moan, not caring who would hear or not - the pleasure was sickeningly sweet, almost making you ill, knocking you to your elbows as you couldn’t see, hear, feel nothing except the wave of pleasure washing over you repeatedly, beads of sweat running down your body.

The clenching of your heat against him while you climaxed drove Clay to the brink of insanity, coming himself before he could even realise it, filling you up to the brim with a few final thrusts. He stayed inside you for a few seconds while you were catching your breath, watching you uncontrollably spasm around him as you came down from the high, clenching around him every so often, all your senses overstimulated.

When your breathing evened out, he finally pulled out, grabbing the box of tissues from his locker as he slowly started to clean you up, wiping over your sensitive parts, holding you up lightly by the stomach so you wouldn’t fall whenever he touched one of the tender parts. You huffed out a large exhale.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Clay. Remind me to never provoke you after a game again, what the fuck.” you said, voice still shaky, and you heard him cackle behind you.

“I’ll probably be mad for the rest of the day anyways, but whatever.”

“You played good, by the way. Really good. I just wanted to piss you off.” You admitted, watching him stand up and look at you with a knowing smile, before pressing a light peck against your lips. 

“Yeah, I figured.”

[elvishoneyy]

I NEED YOU - Elvis Presley

Hi everyone so this is my very first time writing any type of fan fiction so it may not be the best but I hope you enjoy! ❤️

Warnings: NSFW (minors dni), smut, cursing, fluff

You were sitting in the kitchen, in just your lace pjs that you knew were Elvis’ favourite, patiently waiting for him to get home from his trip to LA, where he had been gone filming “follow that dream” for the past 3 weeks.

It was currently 8pm, but he wasn’t due to be back until at least 9, so you decided to go relax on the couch as you didn’t want to go to sleep before he came home.

Suddenly you hear a car pull up in the driveway. You quickly rush over to the window, pulling back the block out blinds when you see Elvis walking up the stairs to the house. You spring up quickly rushing to the front door.

“Omg Elvis, I’ve missed you so much” he picks you up as you wrap your legs around his waist as you two spin around with excitement. “I’ve missed you more baby girl” he gently whispers in your ear.

He puts you down, grabs your hands and looks you up and down “Lord have mercy, how did I get so lucky?, you know these are my favourite right?” He says as he plays with the lace hem of your panties. “Mm I know” you almost moan back at him.

“Wow” he continues to stare at you, making you blush. He notices and says “now don’t get all shy on me now honey, I know you wore these for one reason and one reason only” he looks you straight in the eyes with that cheeky grin he’s so famous for. “Let’s go upstairs, huh?” He asks but it was more like a gentle demand. You nod your head as he takes your hand as you two walk up the stairs to your shared bedroom.

He shuts the door behind him and begins to stare at you again, making you unsure on what to do. You wanted him really bad too but you didn’t want him to know that just yet. “Fuck baby girl, do you know how wild you drive me? I feel like I lose all my self control around you” he begins to place gentle kisses along your jaw, trailing down your neck and eventually to your chest. “Elvis, please” you moan, unable to hide your need for him. That smirk reappears as he says “you don’t need to ask me twice, get on the bed baby”

You crawl your way to the top of the bed eagerly waiting for him. He stands over you, still on the ground slowly talking of his belt, driving you wild. He doesn’t take his eyes off you as he undoes the buckle sliding his belt off and tossing it on the floor. He then undoes the fly of his jeans pulling them down to reveal his cock bulging through his boxers. You bite your lip at the sight in desperate need for his affection. He then unbuttons his shirt and throws it across the room.

He finally crawls on to the bed, hovering over you. He spreads your legs wider so he can lay in between. He then begins to rub his hand up and down your thigh. The coolness of his rings sends chills throughout you, but sends heat to the place where you needed him the most. Elvis takes his time caressing your entire body, ensuring not an inch is missed from head to toe. His warm kisses make their way from your lips to your chest, as he looks up at you with eyes full of lust and love. “I’m gonna make you feel so good baby girl, you gonna let me love you?” He asks wanting to see your need for him “yes please Elvis, I need you” you respond.

He peels off your white lace top, and then makes his way down to the waistline of your matching panties, leaving a trail of kisses on your abdomen, he then rips them off whilst holding eye contact with you. Nothing turned Elvis on more than seeing the effect he had on you, seeing you come undone under his touch. “You’re so wet baby, you’re such a good girl” he mumbles as he begins to gently stroke his finger through your folds. A small moan spaces your lips capturing his attention, he looks at you with pure desire in his eyes. He begins kissing all over your thighs getting closer, and closer to your aching heat. His mouth finally reaches the place where you need him the most as he licks a strip up you, before settling on your clit sucking away with determination. Your head flys back as your back arches “fuck Elvis mmm” you moan out. It may have only been three weeks that he was gone, but you have never felt so starved in your life, you both needed each other more than words can express. You grab onto his hair pulling him closer towards you as you become flooded with pure pleasure. Moans continue to uncontrollably escape your lips as you seem to be coming closer to your orgasm quicker than ever before. “Elvis I’m getting close” you cry out.

Suddenly it all stops. He pulls away from you as you look at him with a slightly confused and pouting face. He lets out a chuckle “you can’t cum yet honey, we are only just getting started, I’m not even inside you yet”. That sparkle in his eyes makes you instantly forgive him, “Elvis please don’t make me wait longer, we’ve waited long enough!”

He finally takes off his boxers revealing his fully erect cock, you can’t help but bite your lip at the sight. “See what you do to me sweetheart” he teases as he grabs his cock and slowly begins to rub himself. He then begins rubbing his tip against your clit making you moan, before slowly sliding it down to your entrance poking barely a centimeter in. “Tell me how much you want me” Elvis growls at you whilst peppering kisses all over your neck. “Elvis I want you inside me now, please, I need you”.

With your begs he gently enters you causing the both of you to let out a moan. “My god baby you feel so damn good” he groans out as he begins to thrust into you instantly hitting your g spot sending you wild. He continues grinding into you whilst his hands fondle your boobs and he begins to suck your nipple, whilst pinching the other letting out a slight squeal from you. He then makes his way back to your lips groaning out a string of dirty words between kisses making you crumble. The sound of both of your moans fill the room as he continues to thrust into you, now more hard and rough than before with his hands on your hips. “Oh my Elvis I don’t know how much longer I can last” you cry out as his repeated abuse on your walls have you limp with pleasure. “Cum for me baby girl” Elvis moans as his movements become even faster. With that sentence the knot in your stomach comes undone as the wave of pleasure travels throughout your entire body. “fuckkk me oh” you moan loudly. The sight of you in complete and utter pleasure because of him drives Elvis wild. With your moans flying out of your lips Elvis spills into you letting out a groan.

He stays inside you for a few moments taking in your face, with your blushed cheeks and eyes struggling to stay open from the bliss the two of you just experienced. He moves your hair out of your face before placing a sweet kiss on your lips. “I love you” he whispers, making you smile and you reply “I love you even more”. Finally he slides out of you as his cum drips out of your swollen pussy and he flops onto his back beside you. “You don’t know how much I needed that” he chuckles to you “I felt like a damn teenage boy on the plane ride over, I couldn’t control myself, all just because I couldn’t stop thinking about you”. You grab his face and pull him closer kissing him “I like it when you're needy” you say between kisses.

“Wanna have a shower with me baby?” He asks you with those beautiful blue eyes “of course my love” you reply as the two of you make your way to enjoy a nice shower to end the night.

Ah I hope you guys liked it! Please let me know any tips your recommend or anything else as I’m a little inexperienced in writing❣️❣️

[zeenmrala]

By The Light Of The Second Moon

A Darth Maul x F/AFAB!Reader Fanfiction

chapter six: inside your mind

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CHAPTER SUMMARY: You prepare for the rains, and then return to Maul. RATING: Explicit. This work is strictly for those 18+ due to sexual content. MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT. WORD COUNT: 9.2k CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNINGS: Smut, rough sex, unprotected PiV sex, biting, bruises, fingering, male!receiving + female!receiving oral sex, choking, force choking, praise kink, slight bdsm, control play, slight pain kink, outdoor sexual activity, dominant!maul. CHAPTER SONGS: middle of the night, elley duhe. inside your mind, the 1975.  A/N: This chapter is MUCH longer, but when the smut happened, I couldn't seem to stop writing, I was having a blast, haha. ♡

Chapter Six Inside Your Mind

You awake slowly and gently in the morning, blinking in the morning light with tired eyes. Blessedly, you have awoken before anyone from your family has come to call on you. You yawn lazily as you slowly sit up, groaning yourself awake from sleep. What time is it? You stretch out your arms, then bring them up, then back down over and past your mess of hair. You bring your fingers to your shoulders, then slowly trail them along your chest. You pause - you’re naked? There is a brief moment of confusion, but then the memory of last night floods into your thoughts like a crashing wave and suddenly you’re wide awake, reeling. In your mind you recall the images of Maul, the heavily tattooed Zabrak man, naked and on top of you: you relive that blissful feeling of fullness, of him inside you, the weight of his stare as he watched you writhe in ecstasy beneath him… In stunned silence, you consider - was that real? For a moment you could have believed that it was all just a dream. It seems so obscene, so exciting and eventful, possibly too exciting and eventful for that to be your life. But then you notice the sweet, dull ache between your thighs…the evidence that yes, it did happen. You revel in your soreness for a moment, the ache summoning memories of its source - and you take a sharp breath in as Maker, you recognise that the heavenly pain is turning you on. Heat swarms your cheeks and pools in your core, and you smile, whimpering slightly in disbelief. Then you feel suddenly overwhelmed. Last night was…among many other things, amazing. You grin, and lie back down as you begin to process it, and the shock of what you did finally takes hold. You snuck out into the woods in the middle of the night and had sex with a man you barely know. A man who just a couple of nights ago, made you frightened, and made you cry. A man who isn’t human. Was that a bad decision? No. Impulsive, absolutely, but bad? You aggressively reject that thought, because yes, it may have been rash, it may have even been irresponsible, and it could have been dangerous – but you loved every second of it. Any shame or guilt you are expecting to feel does not surface, and then you are immediately certain of one thing. That you have absolutely no regrets concerning what you did. The memory of Maul’s body and how he used it to make yours feel so good burns in the front of your mind. A spike of heat ripples through you once again as you remember the weight of him on top of you, the hardness inside of you, the deep purr of his groans of pleasure…you lazily move your fingers down your body and begin to touch yourself, imagining Maul’s large, tattooed and crimson hands in place of your own…

A sudden jolt of anxiety snaps you out of your arousal. Yes, last night was real, but today is real too. Panic turns your stomach and you curse, suddenly worrying about if you were careless in staying out so late – how could you allow yourself to fall asleep out in the woods? You find yourself becoming stressed about if you made any mistakes that could compromise your brief hours of freedom in the night. How long have you even been home? Your anxiety reminds you of your broken dress, and you rush to lean under your bed. You relax when you see the balled up garment, exactly as you left it when you kicked it under there last night. You do love your family, of course, but their overprotectiveness has bled into a blatant disrespect for your privacy, and you have caught them multiple times going through your bedroom. Which in turn, gives you cause to be over-cautious, and in some cases paranoid.

However, it keeps you alert – you are a very perceptive person because of it, and sneaking around has helped you learn so much about keeping secrets - more than you could have possibly dreamed. You have to keep being cautious, to get what you want.

Relieved that nothing seems amiss, you quickly get up and pull on a robe, then peak out of the curtains. The sun is just starting to rise. You should have enough time to wash yourself and attempt fixing your torn dress before your day at the surgery begins. Before you do that though, you cannot help but gaze out towards the woods and wonder what your new lover is doing right now. Is he awake yet? You think of him again, and though you curse yourself for your softness, you cannot help but wonder if he is thinking of you too. And then, if he is thinking of your body as much as you are thinking of his…

You cringe at yourself, then curse. You need to snap yourself out of this train of thought, and quickly – you’ve known him for a few days, you cannot keep lusting over him every few seconds in this way. You feel so embarrassed that you can’t keep it together. He’s a stranger. Albeit a stranger that has seen you naked and more intimately than anyone else ever has. More thoughts of the two of you together sends another hot zap of longing to your sex. Kriff, you are sick with desire. You groan and shake yourself into action before you have the chance to get carried away. You clear your head by quickly putting together a mental list of tasks to do to keep your new secret lover under wraps.

First, have a bath (a cold one) and attempt to fix your broken dress, or somehow come up with a cover story for why it’s been ripped open so severely at the chest. Second, find and take the contraceptive concoction. Third, face the day, and get through it without melting into an embarrassing puddle of erotic desperation. By the way that your day has started, it seems that the third task will be the most difficult to complete.

--

Your morning has felt remarkably long, but you are now enjoying the warmth of the afternoon, though you are working through it. You and your brother have finished in the surgery, your Father having let you both out early, as you needed to begin further preparations for the rain between seasons together. As always, it will be non-stop work into the evening, and though tiring, it is helpful in keeping your mind off of other, more distracting things (like an uncontrollable desire for a particular alien in the woods).

This morning, you were able to repair your dress before breakfast. It was a frustratingly long and tedious process, and you do not really want to have to do that again, but thanks to the experience you have assisting your sister-in-law with her small textile business, it was possible. Getting the contraceptive was the easiest, though - as your Father and brother left you alone in the surgery when they had to assist in a emergency at the cantina on the edge of town - some poor soul having already drunk themselves into a serious fall and broken a leg before midday. However, after they came back, the morning dragged by, hour after hour, patient by patient. After a quick lunch, you and your brother are now working on weather-proofing your home and the surgery. Spending an afternoon outside with Fenn every other month, preparing for the rains, has always been a constant in your life. Whatever happens in your family or your community, you both will always be here and will always need to do this. It’s a stable and guaranteed activity – which usually, you would despise, as the monotony of living here is painfully boring to you. However, you find comfort in this time you get to spend with Fenn. It’s always hard work, but it’s a joy to appreciate the end of a season together, just the two of you. Now that Fenn is married with his own family, you both rarely get to spend time together outside of work or mealtimes, so it is even more important to you now. These sessions of physical work together are also when you can subtly squeeze secrets and truths out of your brother. When he is working on something with his hands, when he doesn’t need to look at you or see your reaction to what he says, he doesn’t mind chatting or offloading to you. In fact, you think he really enjoys it. He is usually so tight-lipped and strict when he’s working on a patient – so you think that when his work doesn’t scream or talk back or have the ability to die if he makes a mistake, he is more relaxed and easier to be around. The lower the stakes, the more people feel secure and open, you suppose. He still hasn't breathed a word about your Mother and what happened to her, not since the last time, when he yelled and raved about your asking.

Your bi-monthly rain and flood preparations are a comforting ritual the two of you have shared since childhood. The town has been built according to the weather patterns, so most of the buildings (your home included) are on secure, raised platforms to prevent damage from the floods, and there is a drainage system that works effectively (most of the time, two years ago there was a severe failure that caused a terrible amount of chaos). Despite the towns innate abilities to survive the storms, there is still a lot of work to be done before the rains. It begins with the inspection of the building itself, of the roof and gutter systems, the seals of doors and windows, the electrical equipment and a triple check of the drains. You spend a lot of time repairing and securing the shortcomings on the roof especially, it needs constant maintenance, and you have become proficient in weather-proofing it. The intricate work that you use your fingers for reminds you of the relief of a long writing and drawing session in your secret sketchpad. The amount of times you have had to climb up and down your house is what makes sneaking out of the window at night quietly so easy for you, too. You think, these afternoons have been particularly formative for you. It also feels good to be out of a dress, if only for a while. You always wear the same basic and comfortable outfit for this work, trousers and a loose shirt with a thick pair of work boots, your hair up and out of your face. Like most women in the town who aren’t foragers or hunters, you are used to wearing dresses or skirts, as is the cultural norm here. But you do like the feel of pants, the security in the tightness of them, the novelty of not often getting to wear them. How strange, you think, that wearing pants is exciting. It's the little things that gets you through your days here. Stars and galaxies, this planet is just as backwards as it is backwater. Once the house is secure, you help your brother trim the trees and plants around your property, and check the integrity of the outdoor equipment and furniture, strapping things downs, moving them around, covering them. You and Fenn work efficiently, almost automatically together, as if you have choreographed your moves like a pair of well-trained dancers. You think that the two of you make such a repetitive, gruelling and difficult task look easy. The off-world visitors that you have spoken to have balked at the idea of living long term on such a planet as yours, small and insignificant, with violent weather and outdated technology, that though a quaint and simple life it may be in the grand scheme of the galaxy, the constant need to adapt to the harsh storms and live without the modern conveniences that are so common elsewhere is simply not worth it. When pondering life outside of this planet, you have often thought of how strange it would be to not have to prepare and deal with the weather. To live somewhere where there isn’t a consistent pattern of severe rain and storms seems such a bizarre concept. That there are planets where it never rains at all completely perplexes you. You think that, if you do ever get to leave, you would miss the comforting and soothing routine you and your brother have together here. It’s the one and only thing that you both have in common, and therefore it is special, and you treasure it dearly. You ponder if you are too sentimental, and conclude that if you are, it isn’t necessarily a bad thing anyway. It does make you think of your sketchpad, of your curiosity for the wider galaxy, and then of what Maul could teach you tonight. You once again force the idea of him away, focusing on the tough, yet soothing, physical work of the afternoon.

--

Once the sun has set, and the first moon is in the sky, you have eaten, washed and changed, now wearing another dress, your hair down. You are waiting in your room to sneak out into the woods again. Any comfort that the preparation for the rain brought you earlier has fizzled away. In fact, it has dampened your spirits, because you know that it becomes much more difficult to get time away from the surgery when the rain between seasons pours. There is no sketching outside in the woods, there is no easy way to sneak out and climb down without slipping and injuring yourself, there is less moonlight to guide your way around - there is just this room and the rhythmic patter of the rains fall as you lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, imagining the ins and outs of worlds far beyond your star system. With a slight sigh, you put these melancholic worries to the back of your mind. You can deal with that misery later, for now, you want to make the most of the time that you do have, so with some courage and a knot of suspense in your belly, you urge yourself to sneak out a little bit earlier to make the night last longer with Maul. You silently climb out of your window, then stick to the shadows as you make your way to the Great Wood.

--

It seems that Maul is not here when you first arrive. Though as you emerge into the clearing, the first moon’s light illuminates his ship, and the sight of it makes you grin widely. He’s still here. You did not realise the extent of how much you worried that he wouldn’t be, that he would simply be gone by the time you came back tonight. Visitors do not often stay for very long here, as there is no real reason to. You wish he would tell you what his business here was, why he is stationed out in the woods instead of closer to town – you have thought of many reasons as to why he could be here, but you will not know for sure until he tells you, which by his tone the last time you asked, is very unlikely. It does not even really matter to you, that you do not know why he is here. Because you are just glad that he is.

Really glad, actually.

The relief and joy that stirs in your chest at just seeing his starship makes you unable to deny that you would be sorely disappointed if he left. Of course, first and foremost, there is that basic, primal sexual need you feel for him, the lust and desire that coats every last thought you have of him. Now that you have established a sexual relationship together, one that you hope will be more than a simple dalliance - you would hate to lose that excitement so soon. But there is also a fondness you hold for him, one that develops with every word that falls from his lips – a tender and more intricate affection for him that frightens you with its intensity.

He has given you something that no one else in your life has ever granted you. A sense of honesty and freedom, even though it’s just the smallest taste. The wider galaxy, and your knowledge of it, is what keeps you going. Even though you try to be realistic with your hopes, you will always dream beyond your home planet, beyond your safe, basic life. And Maul is providing you with the fuel for the fire of those dreams, providing information and nuance and hope. It's incredibly special to you.

The quiet and darkness in the clearing is making you feel slightly apprehensive, and your nerves suddenly feel as if they are screaming in anticipation, your skin is sensitive and yearning to be caressed as if you have never been touched before. Pushing away your lust all day has caused it to mount up and up, and it feels as if your desire for the Zabrak is the most raw and fierce that it could ever be, and you try to calm yourself and clear your mind of the expectation for that physical affection that you crave. He isn’t even here, you are earlier than you usually are and you cannot expect him to -

“Hello, lady.” His rich voice cuts straight through your train of thought, and the way he calls you lady makes that familiar sharp heat course through your core. Stars, he is here. You spin around, and look for him, a hesitant smile on your lips as you search for those vivid amber eyes you have tried not to think about all day…but you can’t make him out. “I’m right here, girl,” he ridicules.

Confusion must paint your features as he chuckles at you, and your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “W-Where?” You turn again, and Maker damn him, you can’t place him. He must love teasing you like this, because it seems to be becoming a pattern.

“Back so soon...” You focus on his voice, listening closer to his provocations, and realise his voice is coming from above you. You lift your eyes to the trees, and scan across them. “It appears as if I have an admirer,” he continues, drawing out the sentence in a taunting yet playful tone. Stars, there is something about his voice that renders you weak. You stay silent, and take deep breaths, calming yourself and refusing to rise to his bait. What is irritating to you, is that he is speaking only truths.

Maker damn your desperation.

There is a pause in his mocking, and you do your best to try and find him, squinting into the branches of as many trees as close to the sound of him as you can.

“I do like this dress, but not nearly as much as I liked the one that I ripped off of you yesterday.”

You huff a quiet whimper of a laugh at that, simultaneously aroused at the memory of his tearing it off of you, but cross at how long it took you to fix it this morning. But before you can quip a reply, you catch his bright yellow eyes that seem to glow in the darkness, and of course, they are fixed directly upon you. He leans forward to reveal himself in the moonlight, perching so easily, so lazily up in the higher branches. Once again, it appears so effortless for him. He quietly speaks, only just loud enough for you to hear. “You liked that, didn’t you lady? Is that why you are back so soon?”

“Would you rather I come back later? Or not at all?” You retort shortly, though your heart races at the sight of his strong build looming so high above you. Is he – is he shirtless? You squint again and he is. He stands up from his perched position, balanced so effortlessly on the branch and crosses his arms over his chest, and he looks so good. Kriff, he has every right to tease you with how embarrassingly easily you yearn for him.

“Because your making fun of me leads me to believe my arriving early, or at all, was a mistake,” you finish.

He growls. “I would never imply such a thing,” he replies rather seriously, then pulls back and disappears into the dark of the trees. You lose sight of him immediately, and as you try to catch a glimpse of him again, you quickly reply.

“Do not flatter yourself Maul, obviously I am only here because I want to see inside of your starship.”

You notice the gentle sound of rustling of leaves and assume he’s climbing down. He doesn’t laugh, slightly chuckle or even make a pained groan at your wisecrack reply. He may be attractive, but Maker, his mood swings give you whiplash.

You scoff under your breath at his dramatics, and walk over to the section of trees he was just up in, and look around for him. He is a rather strange person, what is he doing up in the trees again? You are now under the tree that he was in, and you look up into it, straining your eyes to see if you can catch sight of him descending. You can’t see anything, and just before you are about to call out to him, you feel the weight of his eyes on your back.

You spin around and there he is, smirking at you.

“We both know that is not the truth,” he drawls.

You cannot deny it, it is painfully obvious that he is correct. You have not even thought about going into his starship, your sketchpad, or anything like that since you arrived. You didn't even bring your sketching tools. All you have thought about is him, and his body, and your body, and how gloriously good they feel together. You do your best to not be ashamed and refuse to look down to the ground like you automatically want you to. You glare back at him, though you feel the heat prickle at your cheeks and you must be blushing furiously.

He flashes you a smile, not a smirk, a real, genuine smile. You realise that you haven’t actually seen this particular grin on his face before. It suits him, and it looks beautiful on him. You are staring at his lips and you want to kiss him, you want to kiss him so badly, you have to physically restrain yourself from pouncing on him.

He saunters over to you, in such a nonchalant and casual way, it makes you want to scream. How can you feel so wild and out of control with desire, yet here he is completely cool and unbothered. He seems entirely apathetic, and it stirs your insecurities. Stars, what if he does not even find you attractive anymore at all? Could he be done with you because you already slept with him?

Your foolish insecurity concerning his attraction to you must be painted so obviously on your expression, because suddenly your face is sandwiched between his hands and he is whispering, so close to your lips. Stars, you would kiss him so hard if his hold on you wasn’t so ironclad. “Don’t make assumptions, lady.” He rather aggressively demands, then grabs your wrist and pulls your hand to his groin, and you feel the thick hardness of his cock straining against the material of his pants. You automatically go to squeeze it, to stroke him, but he pulls your hand away as quickly as he put it there.

“Patience.” He pauses, and what he says next causes your breath to hitch and your cunt to ache. “Just for now, wicked girl. Do not be disheartened,” he promises with another smirk.

He walks away from you, and leans against the trunk of one of the larger trees in the clearing, then stares at you with those heavy eyes. It looks as though he makes a conscious decision to cross his arms against his chest again, as if he knows that you think he looks good like that, that teasing you this way is so much fun to him. You must really be terrible at hiding your emotions if he could tell that from your expression, all the way up in that tree.

You allow him to tease you, to play with you like the naïve, ignorant woman you are. Just let him, you keep reminding yourself. He won’t feel so smug when he’s begging for your mouth around his cock.

You see him falter in confidence slightly as you think that, as if he could actually see the image that you conjured up in your head at the thought. Him standing, you naked on your knees in front of him, looking up at him with big, wide eyes, plump lips - your wet tongue so near his shaft that he can sense the blissful heat of your mouth, but not actually feel it like he craves so badly. It hurts him to be so close to fucking your throat, yet so far, that he moans for you to please, pleasure him, do it for him, like you do it for only him and for nobody else.

The smugness is wiped from his face for a moment, and for a split second you actually consider that he can read your kriffing mind. But then as quickly as his demeanor changed, he’s back to his usual arrogant, mysterious-alien-in-the-woods-self, and you shake off the ridiculous idea.

“Where is your sketchbook?” He asks curiously, his eyes running up and down your body.

You wander over to him, until you are a few feet away from him. “Where is your shirt?” You reply innocently. And then you slowly lower yourself to the ground, to your knees, then you sit on the balls of your feet, so you can look up at him.

You can tell that the change of pace and dynamic almost breaks him. It almost jolts him out of this ridiculous game of toying with your desires, because he wasn’t expecting you to behave like this. He was expecting you to be bashful and shy, he wasn’t anticipating how badly you would want him, how willing you are. He wasn’t prepared for you to play with his desires, too. When you are down there, on your knees, gazing at him with your eyes wide, entirely innocent, yet entirely aware of what you are doing to him, you know that all he wants is to take you. You can see it flash across his expression, he wants to show you how wild he really is for you. He is so good at hiding it, but it’s there, that raw, primal longing. It’s as if he really could see that image of you, so close to taking him in your mouth, looking up at him expectantly, that now you are down here, he cannot think of anything else. Strangely, you try to play along with that idea, as if he could read your mind. You do your best to look at him longingly, as if what you want most in the world is to take his cock in your mouth - but truthfully, you don’t even have to pretend. Your mouth is watering.

He slowly uncrosses his arms and walks over to you until he is right in front of you, your mouth devastatingly close to his hard cock. He looks down at you, but your eyes are fixed on the hardness of him in front of you, and just as you lean in to kiss at it over the material - he takes your chin in his hand and forces you to look up at his piercing eyes.

“Wicked girl,” he scolds you, and whilst still holding your chin tightly with one hand, he uses his other to place his index finger on your lips, then slightly pulls your bottom lip down. You think kriff it, and like you did last night, you suck his finger into your mouth, taking it deep to his knuckle, all whilst looking up, directly into his eyes. He groans and then curses, pulling his finger out of your mouth and using the hand that’s gripping your chin to squeeze the bottom of your face, pulling you up to your feet, so that your face is now directly in front of his. You whimper at the harshness of it, though your cunt aches and you can feel that you are getting drenched between your legs. He laces the other hand in your hair behind your head, and pulls so that you are looking up at him, his eyes boring into yours, and you cannot move your head at all between his two hands. You moan as you watch his eyes race across your features, and all you can think is kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.

He whirls you around and pushes you back until you are up against the tree, one hand around your throat, the other now tight on your waist. “Tell me what you want,” he demands in an aggressive tone that makes you want to beg him to have you. You are so aroused you cannot seem to talk, only whimper.

“Tell me. SAY it,” he insists once more, his desire for you now so obvious in his voice. He uses one of his knees to separate your legs and then pushes the other up between your thighs. You grind down on to it, and all you can manage to say is his name quietly. “Maul…” You think, kiss me, take me, have me, fuck me. “Say it out loud.” “Maul...” in your head, kiss me, touch me, hurt me. He moans and squeezes your throat, “I want to hear you say it.”

“Kiss me,” you finally whine, and almost cry in relief when he presses his lips to yours, his tongue finally in your mouth. You wrap your hands around the back of his head, lacing your fingers around his horns as you kiss each other fervidly. You are desperate for friction, and then he pushes his leg harder into you so you can grind down on him fiercely – again, as if he knows that is exactly what you need. You gasp as he bites your bottom lip, you can feel the heat of his hand moving up from your waist to your breasts, and he squeezes, dragging his other hand down to your chest too. He squeezes hard and you cry out a high pitched moan at the pain of it, though your nipples keen and your cunt throbs. It’s an exquisite pleasure. You moan and moan, “please,” and can’t seem to word exact instructions, but he knows. He moves his lips to your neck and kisses your skin sloppily, then bites you. As you cry out in pleasure and your body pushes up to move into his teeth, he bites you again and again, dragging his lips up your neck, to your jaw, your ear and back down to your neck again. Meanwhile, his hands squeeze at your breasts, and you feel him slide his fingers down and grip onto your neckline. You manage to say between moans, “don’t…rip…it…”, what is left of your rational self, trying to prevent another broken garment - but your thoughts betray you. All you want is for him to take it off and touch your skin, and you think kriffing tear it off, get it off me, please, feel me. Maul chuckles, bringing his mouth back to your ear to purr, “hush, stop lying, tell me the truth.” He gently kisses your ear lobe, then cruelly adds, “Oh, I know the truth, wicked girl.” And as you mewl a pathetic attempt at a yes, he rips the dress open, and pulls it off of your shoulders, so you are half naked, just like him. He presses his body into yours, messily kissing your lips again, his hands squeezing at the newly revealed flesh. Your hands are on his back, nails clawing at his skin, desperate to feel him. His skin is so hot, and the fire just under your belly button is burning and Stars, all you want is him. He pauses, and puts his hands on either side of your face, looking at you with such lust it makes you grind down on to his leg again - it’s all you can do, pathetic and desperate. He groans, then places his forehead onto yours and hushes you. “Shhhh...” He kisses your mouth gently and then whispers, “I’m going to take care of you.” He traces a finger down your neck, across your collar bone, then down to one of your breasts. He circles your nipple as light as a feather, causing you to whimper. Your nipple goes hard, and you want him to really touch it - harder, you think, please, harder. He stops, using his free hand to tilt your chin so you are looking into his eyes. You see him staring two words into your very soul. Say it.

“Harder, Maul,” you demand.

He smirks, and as requested, uses two fingers to squeeze and play with your nipple.

“More, more…” you throw back your head to the tree in bliss, waiting for him to oblige. He moves his other hand down, cupping your other breast. And then he stops. He doesn’t give you more, even though you asked.

You whimper, then look at him, and he looks back at you with a callous gaze. He completely stops moving his fingers, and yanks his leg out from between your legs. You gasp at the swift removal, and jolt downwards, as a lot of your weight was on him.

“Where are your manners?” He says. He smiles coyly, and after a moment of confusion - you quickly understand that he’s punishing you for your teasing of him earlier. He slightly squints his eyes at you, as if to say that’s exactly what is happening.

“P-Please,” you whine, trying to kiss him again. He pushes you back into the tree, hard.

“Maul,” you say, with more certainty, and you see that the use of his name sways him. But he still doesn’t touch you again.

“Please, Maul,” you try again, looking up at him with desperate wide eyes, you move your palms to his chest. You give him what you know he wants, baring yourself to him, being completely vulnerable and honest. Because you want him so badly, you need him to touch you more than anything. “I want you to touch my-”

“Beg,” he says quietly, cutting you off, as if he couldn’t wait to say it. The word sends a shock-wave of arousal through your core, and you immediately know what he is doing and what he wants. Kriff this messing around, avoiding it. You are going to cut straight to it.

You growl your own defiant moan and frown at him, using the hands on his chest to push him back, to make room. You do want this, but it does not make you less annoyed that he has gained back the control you briefly stole from him. He out-witted you in this battle of strategic and erotic teasing. He smirks, because he knows you’re going to do it. He knows you want to do it. And so you do. You get back on your knees. And then you look up at him, eyes wide, expectant. There is a moment of silence, him looking down at you, waiting for you to say it. He won’t be begging to fuck your mouth after all. You will be the one begging for him to fuck your mouth.

You say it quietly, at first. “Fuck my mouth, Maul.”

He glares down at you. You can tell he’s trying not to completely lose control.

“Please, fuck my mouth Maul,” you say more boldly. Then you look at him with the most innocent, desperate that look you can conjure, and beg for it, “please.”

“Good girl,” he declares, fondly running his hands over your hair and face. Then he reaches to his waistline, dips his hand down and pulls his hard, crimson cock out of his pants.

You immediately take it in your hands, and he gasps quietly at the contact. You haven’t done this in a long time, and suddenly you feel nervous. You really, really want to make him feel good. And you desperately want to take him deep down your throat.

He pulls your hair up out of your face with both hands, then twists it up into a pony, and holds it in one fist. The other hand he caresses across your face. Then as you bring your lips to the tip of his cock, he slides his fingers to the back of your neck, holding on to you tightly as you kiss and lap your tongue at his shaft.

He sighs erotically, spurring you on. You close your eyes and take the head of him into your mouth, getting it really wet, and then you slightly suck. He moans, making your sex throb, and kriff you realise, you are soaked.

Maul groans as you work your mouth at the head of his cock. “So good,” he mutters. “You are doing so good.”

The praise flicks a switch in you and you feel suddenly wild. You immediately want more from him, you want him to tell you how good you are at satisfying him. And so you earn it - you want to really earn all the praise he gives you.

Stars, he tastes good. It’s intoxicating, and you cannot get enough. You use your hands and mouth to slowly take him deeper and deeper. After a couple of minutes you master breathing through your nose so you can commit your mouth to him fully. As you work on taking him into your throat, you moan at the feel of him pushing on your head, encouraging you to take more of his hardness.

And you cannot get enough of him, all you can think is that you want more, more, more. He moans louder, muttering words that form broken sentences.

“Good…beautiful…mmmm…wicked girl…so...innocent…”

You work him with your mouth and hands, moving faster and faster, until you can take him all the way in, choking on him. He growls, holding on to the back of your head tighter. You hold him down your throat, your eyes watering as you moan around his cock. He then tugs your hair back and you gasp for air, trying not to cough, wanting to immediately take him into the back of your throat again.

“You are doing so well,” he groans, lightening his grip on your hair. He breathes deeply, tilting your head up to make you look at and listen to him. “Take your time, sweet, wicked girl.”

You nod enthusiastically, your face a mess of tears and saliva. After you have calmed down your breathing, you slowly take him back into your mouth - but focus on keeping your eyes trained on his this time. He grunts, clearly liking the eye contact. You suck his cock for a while longer, using both your mouth and hands to pleasure him. Until he says, quite strictly, “no more hands, just your mouth now.”

You immediately obey, removing your hands and using just your lips, mouth, tongue - taking him down into your throat again. “Good…” he groans, holding on to the back of your head, moaning more and more, louder and louder. It turns you on so much to hear him be so vocal.

He starts to slowly thrust into your mouth, so you can get the feel of him doing it, and after a moment you adapt, and then you realise – kriff, you like it, you like him taking control again. You look up at him, and urge him on with muffled moans. Though he usually insists, you cannot tell him what you want this time, your mouth filled with his cock.

Faster, you think, harder. He obliges, using your hair to hold on to your head as leverage as he thrusts in and out of your throat wildly. You start to choke, moaning and crying, but you take it, because he clearly enjoys it, and its making you feel so hot, you are so aroused, and you use your hands to lift up the bottom of your dress and begin touching yourself. You are so wet. Maul soon notices and stops, pulling his cock out of your mouth with a wet popping sound. You gasp, taking deep breaths, but look back up at him in confusion.

“Stand up,” he demands, before you have a chance to ask why he stopped. You do as your told.

He leans down and pulls off the remainder of your dress, ripping it at the waist, completely wrecking it. You squeal in surprise as he does this, running your hands over his arms and shoulders as he stands back up. You don’t even care anymore, all you can think about is how hot and wet your cunt is, and how you need him to touch you.

Now you are entirely naked, he pushes you back up against the tree, his hands now playing roughly with your breasts as you whine at his touch. He uses his mouth, licking at your hard nipples, sucking on them, burying his face into your chest. You hold your hands around his horns, pushing him down, trying to get his hot, wet mouth between your legs.

He freezes, running his hands down to your waist and squeezing you hard. He brings his mouth back to your ear, pressing the weight of his body against you as he whispers, “tell me, lady.”

You groan as he then teases a finger down your slit, and you arch into the touch. He growls and then curses at your slickness, planting a kiss on your temple with a purr, and you hear him inhaling the scent of your hair.

“Touch me, more, Maul, please. I need you inside of me. I want you to taste me again.” You speak loudly and clearly, pulling his face in front of you, looking into his eyes. You wrap a hand around his cock, swiping your thumb over the top of his shaft, which weeps with precum. "I liked it so much. I want more."

He moans quietly, then sweeps you up into his arms. He moves so quickly, walking you further into the woods, then lays you down among a soft patch of grass, wildflowers, and moss. You are surprisingly comfortable on your back, laying there, looking up into the sky, the stars shining and framed by tree leaves. The second moon hasn’t even fully risen yet, meaning you have so much time. Sneaking out early was such a good idea.

Warm kisses are being planted on your stomach, slowly leading down between your legs. You groan loudly as Maul sinks his tongue between your folds, licking and kissing at your clitoris. He uses his hands to push your legs out, keeping your soft thighs away from his horns. You did not really notice last time, but now as you watch him closely, you realise he subtly keeps them away from the soft parts of your flesh. You moan again as he sucks on your cunt, and you arch your back at the bliss of it.

“Move your hands,” you say, and he pulls back and looks at you.

Stars, his golden eyes peering up at you from between your legs is so kriffing arousing.

“Hold my hips,” you demand, and he looks unsure, but you are certain about this. He slowly moves his hands so that they are gripping tightly onto the flesh on your hips. He lowers his mouth back down to your cunt, and continues his sensual task of feasting on your wetness. You slowly close your legs around his head, so that you can feel his horns digging into your thighs. You whimper at the sensation, throwing your head back and leaning on your elbows, fully giving in to the bliss of his mouth, the sharpness of his horns, whilst looking down to watch him eat your cunt like he is a man starved, ravenous for the taste of you. You slowly feel the heat of an orgasm roar inside you, and Maker, you are so ready for it, and then it builds and builds as Maul keeps lapping and licking and biting your sex - then it washes over you, white hot and severe, and you moan his name through the climax, almost crying by the end. He does not stop feasting, he keeps going, and going, and going. Until you cannot stand it anymore. Until you need his cock inside you so desperately, you feel as though you have never needed anything more than this.

“Please,” you softly sob, “please.” He slows down his tongue, then pulls back, planting one last wet kiss to your slit before sitting up and looking at you. He crawls up your body, then he is above you, that intense gaze boring into your eyes. He is completely naked now, losing the bottom half of his clothing somewhere along the way. He lays a hand on your cheek, moving your hair out of your face, gentle, fond and soft. You gasp for air, overwhelmed at all of the different sensations engulfing your body.

“Shhhh,” he hushes, and you can feel him aligning himself at your entrance. You try to bear down on him, but he stops you from moving. One last tease, of course.

“Is this what you want?” He asks, so slow, nudging his cock ever so slightly closer, painfully close to finally being inside of you. You nod viciously, breathing so heavily between moans, that you do not think you can say much more.

He kisses you so suddenly and so passionately, it takes you by surprise - and a hand slips up to your throat. You groan into his lips, and as he pulls back you look into his eyes. You are opening your legs as wide as you can, urging him to come inside, begging to be fucked by him.

Take me, have me, fuck me. I want this.

He confirms to you, himself, or both of you - “you want this.”

You whisper, “yes.”

He says, “good girl.”

Then he slips himself inside of you, your wetness easily taking him all in, after just one steady thrust. You both gasp, a string of expletives spills from Maul’s mouth as he begins to move in and out of you – slowly at first, but then he speeds up, and Stars – it feels so good, so right to be fucked by him like this. So right, that you start to think, what if you were made for this? To be fucked into the ground of the forest, under the light of the second moon, by this strange, mysterious, wonderful man?

He starts to fuck you harder and faster, and you take it, and he tells you, “you take it so well, you are such a wicked girl,” whilst growling and breathing heavily. He slows down slightly, and then lays both of his hands at the base of your throat. You immediately nod, yes, please, do it.

“Do it, yes,” you confirm with a smile, then feel him apply slight pressure to your throat.

He sinks himself deeper into you, then whispers in your ear.

“Tell me the truth, always, lady.”

You look at him and nod, then take your own hand and place it on top of his, pushing down, encouraging him to choke you.

I trust you.

As he starts to apply more pressure to your throat, and then begins to fuck you at the same time, you immediately start to feel that familiar warmth of a climax begin to build up at the base of your spine. You hear Maul groan louder and louder, a primal growl roaring from him as he relentlessly fucks his cock deep into your cunt, putting his weight into his thrusts, his hands stern around your neck. He keeps fucking you and fucking you, and suddenly you are going to come again, and you look up at him, and you are entirely breathless, you cannot lose or take in anymore air. So instead, you take in the regal crown of his horns, his intricate tattoos, his bright eyes, the expression of euphoria on his severe face, and as you come on his cock he groans wildly, then begins to praise you as you clench down on him.

“You take me so well, you sweet, wicked girl,” he slowly removes pressure from your throat, and as you gasp slightly for air, adapting back to properly breathing. He keeps thrusting and thrusting.

“I can take it,” you reply to him quietly.

“Good girl,” he says again, and you whimper - the hot, wet sound of him fucking you making you moan again and again, louder and louder.

“So good,” you say, holding your hands to your throat.

“So wicked,” he mutters, lost in the feeling of your heat, and you watch him - you see him gripping your thighs possessively, watching your cunt, watching himself fuck it.

So hot, you think, observing him flutter his eyes open and closed in that blissful feeling, and he groans that deep purr of pleasure again, which makes you curse.

He fastens his pace again, and you take a moment to take him in, and the differences and distinction between you both - the bold crimson and black against your human skin, the heat of his flesh, his stamina and endurance. You bring your eyes to his horns again, then moan at the ache of the bruises on your thighs from them as he squeezes your flesh. You once more take in the strange and unique colour of his eyes that you have grown so used to. The strange feeling in your throat from being choked, the sound of Maul’s growls, the throbbing heat in your cunt, the post-orgasm exhaustion.

Stars, you think, I will never get enough of this.

“Maul,” you whimper.

“Yes, lady,” he mutters, continuing to fuck you ruthlessly.

“Maul,” you groan in the pleasure of that feeling, his hardness hitting into that sweet, hot spot deep inside…

“Wicked girl.”

He growls and moves harder, and you can see him reaching his own climax.

“Sweet girl.”

You whimper, “I can come again,” and as you feel the heat build, you say, “I am going to come. Choke me again, please.”

“Beautiful.”

Please.

His hands are now on your hips, holding you down, keeping you still as he fucks his cock into you, again and again.

Choke me, you think, and you say it again, “choke me.”

He keeps his pace fast, and as you hear him growl through his climax, you feel that tight pressure around your throat again, and you can’t breathe, and then there is that blissful snap of heat, and you are coming. And then you look at him, watching him fuck you as both of you come together, his strong hands gripping hard into your hips…

Your hips?

You move your hands to your throat, and you try to breathe – but you can’t. He's choking you, without touching your throat?

He groans, and his grip on your hips lessen, and you can suddenly breathe again. You gasp, moaning and whimpering at the ecstatic glow of your orgasm. And…

Stars and planets, you think. He’s fucked me crazy.

He’s fucked you crazy.

He kisses you, and you wrap your arms around him but you feel so heavy, and then you are being held on his chest and he is kissing the top of your head, and muttering, “so beautiful, so good, so…” and all you can think about is how he can hear your thoughts, and how you could not breathe, but he did not have his hands on your throat.

He can hear my thoughts.

It's very quiet now. He has stopped talking, moving. He is silent and still, and holds you close to him. Once you both have controlled your breathing, he calmly and clearly speaks.

“You cannot, ever, under any circumstances, say that out loud.”

You do not know how to react to that.

You can hear my thoughts.

“Yes.” A pause. “Well – no, not in the way that you think.”

You are reeling, you have so many questions and you go to sit up but he stops you. He holds you still to him. He positions you both so that you are facing him, and you are looking into his eyes.

He brings a finger to his lips, and glares at you. His stare is stern, implying a dark, ominous seriousness. Your heart begins to beat faster, and you feel anxiety deep inside your stomach. What is happening?

“Lady, you are so...” He pauses, then says your name longingly, like he wants to confess everything. "You are intelligent. Please do right by me on this." It is then, in that moment, that despite watching him closely over the past couple of days, despite being so incredibly intimate together - it is only now, that you first notice something important. You see that he is in pain. Not physically, but he has that specific kind of sadness behind his eyes, the kind that he is showing you purposely, that right now, you know it means, I wish this was different.

He nods. Your eyes begin to water, and he stiffens, and you start to feel really sick.

I don’t understand.

He is right, you are intelligent. Intelligent enough to know that this is more than just strange - that something very serious is going on, and that you need to do what he says, and not say anything about this. But you feel that adventurous fire inside of you, that inquisitive, daring spark. You are stubborn, and persistent, and kriff. How could you be so blind. You care about him.

His expression softens and he nods.

How can I let this go?

“You have to.”

You think a lot of things before you reply. He doesn’t react to any of them.

You eventually say, “okay.”

You are both quiet. He strokes your hair, and you relax, and you are suddenly very tired. You look up at the second moon, and then close your eyes. "Maybe we will go in the spaceship tomorrow," he whispers. You feel so safe, you reply softly, "maybe."

Eventually you fall asleep, and you do not go home tonight.

You do not dream of anything, but Maul stays with you, until long after all the moons have risen and set. He watches you sleep late into the day, and tries to plan how he can fix what he has broken. He does not know what to do next.

--

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[lunamochii]

Diluc x Fem!reader

warning : from soft to hardcore, fem reader, read at your own risk, MINORS DNI!!!

——————————————

*BANG*

Your body jolt up waking you up from your deep slumber only to find yourself sweating a lot, you look at your side and saw your lover, Diluc, still sleeping peacefully. You let out a sigh and slowly got out from the bed to go downstairs and get some water

You couldn’t remember well about your dream but something was stolen from you and when you try to get it back, the last thing you heard before waking up was a gunshot

“What a strange dream…”

You whispered to yourself and grab a empty cup and poured yourself a water from the sink, once you’re done you decided to stay at the kitchen since the sound of the gunshot is lingering on your mind

Diluc turn on the other side and when he touch the side where you’re sleeping in he found it empty, he quickly got up and glance but you’re nowhere to be found. He got out from the bed and hurriedly went downstairs

“Y/N ?”

He called out your name and he barely heard your voice coming from the kitchen, he walk towards the kitchen and found you hugging yourself

“Darling… what’s wrong ?”

“Just a bad dream”

Diluc hum and grab a chair so he can sit beside you then he rub your back as he slowly let you lean on his body, he can tell that you’re shaking so he kiss the crown of your head whispering calming words

“It’s fine.. I’m here darling, you’re safe.”

Diluc hug you very tight letting you know that you’re safe and that his here beside you, you held on to his shirt and buried yourself to his chest trying to calm yourself

“May I ask what was your dream all about ?”

Just like that you told him everything and Diluc sat there listening to you intenty, once you’re done he reassured you that none of it will come true, you smiled and that made your lover smiled too

Diluc tilt his head and plant a soft kiss to your lips that turn into a passionate one, when it comes to you he can’t really control his self

“Diluc”

Diluc answered you with a soft bite on the side of your neck which made you whimper on his arms, he loves hearing your voice so he lowered his head while dragging your dress down, leaving your breast unclothed

“Forget about your dream darling, focus on me.”

You nodded and Diluc’s lips kiss your nipple and he rolled his tongue out licking your nipples and after making it wet with his saliva he began to suck on it, his other hand kneading your other breast

Your hand tug on his hair that is soft as a silk and your body lean back as you try to hold on to the table, legs spreading as he position his self in between your legs

Diluc paid equal attention to your breast then he got a idea he squeeze your breast together and began sucking both of your nipples at the same time

“Diluc! Hnngg! Luc please!”

“Please what honey ?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say it out loud but Diluc knew what you wanted, he grin and began biting your nipples softly and twisting it using his fingers, your moans got louder and louder, you swore to yourself that you almost fell from the chair luckily Diluc wrap his arms around you and let you lay on the table

“Can I suck and lick your pussy sweetheart ?”

You nodded and spread your legs for him, Diluc curse under his breath when he felt his cock hardened even more at the sight of your pussy

“So wet and this is all mine.”

“It’s yours Diluc, please eat me already.”

“Ofcourse m’lady.”

Diluc place your legs on his shoulders and effortlessly pulled your ass up with your pussy directly facing his face, before digging in he kiss your inner thighs and rubs it, making you let out soft moans

Hearing your voice made him stand on the edge as he began lapping on your cunt, his lips nibbling on your clit and sucking on it, your voice getting lewder each second passed

Diluc keeps on licking your cunt all around it and eventually sticking his tongue inside, the way he curl and touch the walls of your cunt made you shiver as you cry out his name

He look at you and saw you barely hanging on your sanity his hands gripping your waist to hold you on your place, your hands above your head as your body shiver from the pleasure

“Hmm! Diluc!”

Diluc moan when he felt you squeezing his tongue knowing you’re about to cum, he played on your clit faster and when your body trembled he put you down and retreated back, you were about to snap at him but stop when his three fingers shove inside you

“Ahhgg! Diluc! Diluc!”

“That’s it chant my name.”

Your tears form into your eyes as he finger you faster curling his fingers inside your legs kicking on the air as he refuse to let go even after you cum

Diluc shut you up by kissing you his tongue twirling on yours and letting you swallow some of his saliva, your hands trying to pull his fingers out since your pussy is still sensitive after coming

But Diluc doesn’t want to as he continue finger fucking you and when he pulled away from the kiss he smirk seeing your face that is a complete mess,

“C-Cumming! Diluc hnngb again!”

“Just squirt it all out”

You scream in pleasure as he went faster your body practically trembling as your juices squirt but your boyfriend doesn’t show any intent to pull his fingers out

“Diluc! Diluc! Diluc! Please no mo— oohhh! Fuck! Fuck!”

“Don’t curse that much darling”

Diluc teasingly bit on your collarbone when he startled you by shoving his cock inside you, his hands gripping your wrist as he move in a inhuman pace

“Daddy! Daddy! Ohhh I’m going to cum again! No more! Haahhh mmhhhmmm!!”

“Let’s do it together… Y/N my beloved..”

Diluc let go of your hands and you quickly use it as a support as you use your hand to support yourself up and Diluc place his one hand at the back of your head slightly tugging on your hair

“Oohhff fuck!! Daddy! Hnngg!!”

“Y/N!!”

Diluc squeeze your breast hard and release his cum inside you and your cum mixing with his, he crash his lips on yours and when he broke away from the kiss he pulled his cock out but replace it immediately with his fingers making you hold on to his shoulders

Diluc lick your neck up to your chin and you can’t help but sigh in content as he shower you with kisses, when you heard the words he whispered you nodded lazily and bury your face at the crook of his neck

“Stay still for a minute wouldn’t want my cum to go to waste.”

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

MASTERLIST

[quietmyfearswith]

suitkovia ; baron zemo x fem!reader

status — completed oneshot

warnings — SMUT SO MINORS GO AWAY, unprotected penetrative sex, oral sex (both m and f receiving), cursing, cheek and clit slapping, groping(ish)

word count — 3,457 words

pairing — fashion designer!helmut zemo x model!reader

a/n —zemo is such a fucking hot daddy and daniel bruhl is just as hot — and what was i gonna do?? not write about it??? psh no way! also blame the suitkovia video because he was so fucking hot andgoofy there.. enjoy this self-indulgent fic! also idk if you can be a baron and a fashion designer but let’s pretend that that’s possible okay? feedback is appreciated and hope u guys have a lovely day !! :> 

also the ones in italics are in sokovian, i just didnt want to translate it into something lmao

tagging @art-estrange

masterlist 

“Sir, your newest model has arrived,” Oeznik informed with a smile; and just as he announced it, the mentioned woman walked in and into the line of sight of the famous Sokovian designer.

Putting down the now empty glass of whiskey he earlier downed, he stood up and approached her, “Hello Y/N,” He huskily greeted her as his hands gently landed on her arms which allowed him to lean over and plant tender kisses on both her cheeks, “I am eternally grateful for your endorsement and modelling of our line of clothes.”

The kiss caught her off guard — but in a pleasant way — and she could only smile coyly, “If anything it is my pleasure to be able to wear your masterpiece of garments, Baron; I’m honoured that you thought of me.”

Releasing his grip from her he then held out a hand for her to take, once she did she was being led in front of the racks of clothes that were lined up — waiting for her to be worn. “Did you want a drink? Perhaps a Turkish delight?”

Eyeing the coffee table where a small platter of sweets and food lay along with some refreshments, she shook her head no and politely declined. “You can leave us now, Oeznik. And we are not to be disturbed, yes?”

“Of course, Sir.”

When the two men spoke in Sokovian, it made her quite uneasy but when she watched the designer run his hands along the fabric of the gowns that were hung, she thought that he was talking about one of the dresses. The wooden doors noisily shut behind her as the assistant left the two of the alone in the room.

“Thank you, again, for coming in here a day earlier than the arranged photoshoot,” He grabbed a gown off the rack and carefully carried it in front of her. “Of course, I understand that it was necessary to ensure that the clothes would fit me well.”

Nodding, he then handed her the silk tulle gown with a smile, “May you try this on first?” Taking the soft gown from him she silently complied and headed to the dressing room he pointed at.

While waiting for her to get changed, he sat down and poured himself another glass of whiskey. Perhaps it was due to her training or attributable to her various ramp model gigs, she quickly changed into the gown; there was one setback however, there was a zipper on the back that was too far for her to reach.

Walking out of the dressing room, she cleared her throat — effectively catching the attention of the Sokovian designer, “Baron? I need some help with the zipper.” She turned around and his breath was hitched in his throat as he saw how beautiful she looked.

“Of course I can help, darling,” He snapped out of his adoring gaze and stood up quickly to zip up the dress. Feeling the pad of his fingers along her skin resulted in both of them feeling a rush of electricity run through. “All done, love.”

It was comical how the fabric whirled around in slow motion as she twirled around to face him; he took a few steps back to admire her fully, “You look exactly like the goddess Persephone, darling.”

Walking in front of the the full length mirror that was placed in the far back part of the room, she observed herself in the eloquently-designed gown and smiled, “The gown looks like something straight out of a fairytale; and it fits me well,” She faced him as she remembered the last part of his statement, “Persephone? Is that your inspiration for this new line?”

Finishing off the remaining liquor he had poured out before nodding and explaining, “The recent books that I’ve been reading are about the Greek gods and goddesses.” He then stood behind her and gently touched her waist, his breath tickling her ear as he spoke, “And Persephone stood out to me the most.”

“Not Aphrodite? Is she not the most beautiful goddess in Mount Olympus?”

“Touche,” He smirked and removed his hands from her sides and went back to the racks and fetched the blue, floral gown that was the first design he made for his most current collection, “But the Olympian beauty wasn’t my focus on all, for I was far too intrigued with Persephone.”

A pout formed her lips as she was confused with his reasoning, “Change into this one first then I can answer the questions you have,” He assured her as if he could read her mind.

Thankfully the second gown that was handed for her to try on was easier for her to zip up; but at the same time she was dismayed at the realization that she wouldn’t be able to feel his hot touch on her skin. Upon stepping out of the velvet dressing room, she announced, “I think this is my favorite gown by far. This really makes me feel like a goddess.”

“To be fair, princess, with or without the clothes you would be crowned a goddess.”

The blunt comment had her biting her lip as she felt undeserving of his praise; standing next to him in front of the mirror, she shook her head and replied, “Well I’m not Greek so your argument is invalid, Baron.”

Once again, his hands roamed around her body — but this time his hands settled on her bare shoulders, “Not all goddesses are Greek; there are Nordic, Celtic, Indian — to name a few.” Looking to her right, where he had rested his chin while his hooded eyes took in every inch of her, she gulped down, “Cultured and intelligent all on top of having a great eye and sense of fashion — is there something you’re lacking?”

“Just my Persephone,” He muttered after placing a gentle kiss on her shoulder. That piqued her interest, she created some distance between the two of them but she laced her hands with his as she smirked, “You think of yourself as Hades?”

“In a way, I do,” He disconnected himself from her and was skimming through the different dresses he had planned for here to wear, “Are you the king of the underworld?” From her tone it was obvious that she was slightly teasing him, but he decided to give her a serious answer either way.

“Despite how magnificent that would be, I am not,” His eyebrows lifted up in excitement as he picked one of the next gowns that Y/N would try on, “But I do admire his passion; he and I share that same thing, you know?”

Handing it over to her, she got the signal that it was her next frock she was to try on; silently, she nodded and took the dress and headed to the dressing room. As she slid on the crepe gown, she then nodded to herself and smiled.

A low whistle was heard when she stepped out in front of the mirror, with a smile Zemo’s fingers danced around her neck as he fastened the cape in its place, “Now you look like something carved out of marble.”

Trailing down from her neck, his hands settled themselves on top of her breasts, “Is the neckline too much?” Her chest heaved up in anticipation as she shook her head no, “I don’t think it is, Baron.”

Smiling, he nodded and placed a kiss on the intersection of her neck and shoulders, “I’m delighted you feel so, darling. I feel like you have questions regarding my earlier statement.” Her small nod encouraged the designer to explain further, “Hades is often dismissed for he is the king of the dead. But, if anything, I think it is his passion for Persephone that he should be known for.”

“Oh?” Was the only word that escaped her with a shaky breath; a simple kiss in her skin had reduced her brain into a puddle, but the simple word spurred him to continue, “After finding the woman of his dreams, he did everything in his power to keep her in his arms.” His hands then slid down from her breasts and to her waist, pushing her body closer to his. Taking in her heavenly scent, he smiled upon feeling goosebumps against the skin of her shoulder where his lips were.

“Have you found your Persephone then?”

“I have now,” He gruffly spun her around and latched his lips on hers; she quickly welcomed his soft lips as she opened her mouth and moaned out as  his hands nestled themselves on her ass, occasionally squeezing her cheeks. Her hands ran along his bearded cheeks and pushed him closer to her.

She whimpered when he tore off the cloak hastily and sucked on her neck, “You’re so fucking beautiful, darling.” As soon as he unzipped her dress she automatically shrugged it off her shoulders, exposing how she didn’t wear any kind of underwear underneath it. Amused, Zemo smirked as he ran his hand along her stomach, “Do you always go about without any kind of underwear?”

“No, not really,” She denied, “It’s easier to slip in between dresses without underwear holding me back.” Holding onto her waist he then carried her to lay on her back on the velvet couch, “Well that just makes it easier for me to please my goddess.”

He dipped down and licked her clit with his thick, wide tongue; and with just one lick of his tongue she was placing her legs on his shoulders, pulling him closer to her. “Fuck, more please,” Hearing her moan out for her, egged him to shove his tongue in her tight canal as he swirled around and tasted her sweet juices.

“What got you this wet, my little goddess?” It was a rhetorical question — which was a good thing for she was so deep in pleasure that she couldn’t process anything in her pleasure-riddled brain. His thumb rubbed her clit vigorously while his other hand inched upward and grabbed onto her nipple, twisting and pulling on it.

“Were you this eager to be fucked, darling?” The vibrations of the filthy words had her locking her legs behind his neck,  further nudging his tongue deeper into her pussy. A loud whine erupted from her mouth when he pulled his face away, “Does that disappoint you, love?”

“Please, Baron. I need you,” She moaned out, her eyes blinking as tears of pleasure threatened to spill out. Wordlessly, he slid two of his fingers in her pussy and lowered his mouth so he could lick her clit. He didn’t break eye contact with her as she watched him lap her juices while his fingers were being squeezed by her damp walls.

“Is this what you needed, darling? Wanted my fingers?” She nodded as tangled her hand into his har, “Fuck! How am I going to fit my cock when you are already struggling to take my fingers.”

Her chest was heaving up and down in pleasure as she thrashed around, “Want you, want you so bad.” Her declaration had his chest rumbling with pride as he pulled his fingers away and kissed her hardened nub one last time.

“Is that so? Can you take all of me inside you then?” He lifted his face right in front of hers, she moved to slant their lips together. Dribbling down from his mouth to hers, she got a faint taste of her juices; and in the model’s opinion, it tasted better when it was mixed with his saliva.

“Want to please you first baron,” She clawed at the ends of his sweater, hands loving the feel of his warm back, “Can I taste you first?” The way she pleaded for him had him smirking at the realization that she was just as desperate for him as he was for her. Giving his consent silently, he helped lift off the cashmere sweater he was wearing and toss it on the foot. Switching both their sides so he lay under her posed as a challenge for her kisses went south — from peppering kisses on his beard, she lowered them until her cold mouth met the wide expanse of his chest.

“You really have a way,” He paused his train of thought as her lips gave his nipple a gentle tug; his eyes darkened with desire as he watched her give the opposite nipple the same treatment before kissing her way down his stomach, “With that precious tongue of yours, darling.”

The way her eyes peered up at him innocently contradicted the way her hands expertly unbuckled his pants; and once his pants, along with his underwear, was being moved off of him she licked her lips in anticipation. One hand stroked the entirety of his length while the other rested on his thigh, anchoring herself.

As if to test the waters, she placed kitten licks on the tip of his cock, “Fucking hell, darling,” The designer moaned out once she lowered herself and allowed her mouth to enclose around half of his cock. The way his cock poked around the inside of her mouth was a delightful intrusion for her; soon enough the tip of his cock was poking the back of her throat.

His short nails were digging themselves against her hair as his chest rumbled in pleasure, “You got me so close, love. Want to have a taste of Sokovia?” The chuckle he let out quickly died down when she fondled his balls with one hand as she shook her head a bit as she deepthroated him long enough until she gagged a bit.

It wasn’t long before he spilled all over her mouth,  “Fuck, darling,” He moaned out as she milked him. Easing his grip on her head, he smiled upon seeing her lick her lips and open her mouth — showing him how he swallowed every single drop of his cum.

“You taste delicious, Baron,” She said with a smile as she rose up from where she was kneeling and moved to sit on his lap, “Can I please ride you?” Her meek petition had him even harder. Wordlessly, he snaked an arm in his cock, tapping it against her pussy before sliding it in her; in one motion he was already halfway inside her.

“Already so wet for me, darling,” Helmut moaned out when he lifted her by the asscheeks, leaving only his tip inside her; her nails were leaving marks on his shoulders as she mewled out, “Please fuck me, Baron.” Just as she spoke the final syllable, he then rammed his cock all the  way in her, causing her to lurch forward, pressing her chest against his. It gave him leverage to fuck her fiercely yet slowly, as if savoring every moment inside her.

With her mouth pressed against his ear, she was moaning out loud for him which sounded like music to the designer’s ears; whereas his mouth was focused on leaving marks of his desire on her shoulder. “Been wanting you for a while, love,” The Baron rasped out as his thrusts sped up when he felt her walls squeezing onto his thickness even more, “Saw you walk down the ramp at Milan and I just knew,” He groaned mid sentence when she moved away from him and leaned down to kiss him tenderly — a juxtaposition from where his cock was now mercilessly and swiftly entering her tight canal, “Just knew I had to have you.”

The declaration of his admiration had her feeling oddly more confident in herself, “Am I like everything you ever wanted, Baron?” He rapidly nodded before moving his head away to get a good look of her — she was biting her lip, yet it couldn’t contain her delicious whimpers from reaching his ears, whereas with every bounce she made resulted in her breasts hypnotizingly moving along. Enclosing a nipple in his mouth, he pulled on it hard enough for her to rake her hands in his hair and shove him harder against her hardened nub.

“I’m so close, Baron,” She moaned out at the absence of his mouth, but was quickly satisfied when he took on the other nipple. Even without her verbal forewarning, he would have known that with the way it was getting more difficult for his cock to slide in and out of her clenched, wet walls. “Are you gonna claim my cock as yours, darling?”

Feeling the presence of his cock surpass her sweet spot and hit her cervix was too much for her as she weakly nodded, “Want you so bad,” She moaned out as she was starting to feel overwhelmed. The designer could feel his own cock pulse upon seeing her current state; he unwillingly removed his mouth from her now swollen nipples — much to both of their dismay — yet he tried to make up for it by lowering a hand to the front of her pussy, alternating between rubbing and pinching her clit. “I want you to cum for me, love,” He rasped out as his other hand was on her cheek, urging him to focus on him. “Your juices should be running down on my cock, okay?”

Slightly turning her head, she sucked on his thumb as she continued to rock herself harder on his cock — the thought of an impending orgasm sounding wonderful. A gasp escaped her lips when the Baron slapped both her cheek and clit when he did not receive affirmation from her, “I need your answer, darling, will you cum for me like the good girl I know you can be?”

Whether it was her desire to be his or the fact that she just didn’t want that added stimulation, she nodded her head vigorously as she indistinctly muttered, “Gonna cum for you, Baron. Want your cock all for myself.”

Pleased with her response, he then drove his cock in her deeper and harder while she wrapped her arms around his shoulders as her lips were quivering right under his thumb was tucked in safely. With one particular harsh thrust, she came and bit on his thumb too hard; despite feeling a sharp pain, Zemo smirked and continued to ram his cock in and out of her as he too was on the brink of another orgasm.

As she was placing kitten lick on his thumb as an attempt to calm herself down, she allowed him to take control; it was incredible how much strength he had because with one hand latched on her hips, he was matching the way her body rose and fall matched the pace in which he was fucking her. “I’m never gonna let you go now, darling. You’re all mine now.”

Delighted with that, she removed his thumb in her mouth and looked at him — fondness and lust portrayed through her eyes — and said, “Cum in me, Baron.” As if her words set off a trigger, he came load after load of his cum, painting her walls as his. Panting heavily as he pressed his forehead against hers, taking in the glow that encompassed her entire body.

Lovingly stroking both her cheeks they both smiled at each other; she spoke up first, “I hope you don’t always sleep with your models.” Despite the overwhelming pleasure she had just experienced, she couldn't prevent her from feeling insecure about the repercussions of their little rendezvous. The hairs at the nape of his neck was something she distracted herself with since she was too nervous for his response; tilting her head to get her to meet him eye to eye so he could reassure her, “No, my love, I don’t make it a habit to go and sleep around. Truth be told, from now on I only plan on sleeping with you.”

His line had her chuckling and lightly shoving his shoulder, still in disbelief with the words that left his mouth. “You’re my Persephone, the one I have been searching for; and I have no plans of letting you go,” He spoke and looked at her wholeheartedly and genuinely, hoping that he would solidify his claim and hopefully get her to believe him.

As her lip quivered and eyes watered, she hugged him close and showered every inch of skin of his that she could reach with kisses, “You don’t know how much that means to me, Baron. I, too, would not do the foolish thing of letting you go, ever.”

It was only then that the designer knew what true happiness was as he rubbed her back gently, pushing her body even more closer to him, “You’re with me now, darling, for life. I’ll treat you like the goddess that you are.”

[bluewhale52]

Morning Rush

Summary: Packed like sardines in a tin, that’s your fate this morning. Until you encounter a beautiful stranger on your morning rush to work.

Pairing: Jimin x OC Female

Genre: S2L, nonidol!au

Rating: NSFW, no explicit sexual scenes but still, if you’re a minor, please kindly shoo.

WC: 1.4K

Warning: accidental stimulation, public stimulation, public grinding, public touching, it’s not really that PUBLIC public but yeah it’s in public

A/N: Just a little one as I’m having a massive block and also time isn’t really on my side. But as I wrote this, I am becoming very fond of OC and Jimin, so let me know if you’d like to read more about these two horny people.  As always, comments, likes and reblogs are very much appreciated 💜

You take a deep breath as you squeeze your way into the train carriage. It is so packed, you don’t even have to hold on to anything once the train starts moving; you and your fellow commuters keep each other standing upright. You always go to work earlier to avoid the morning rush hour, however it is your own fault for pressing snooze one time too many this time.

You gasp as the train jerks and instinctively your hand reaches out to grab onto something, only to be jostled around by the other passengers. You are losing your balance and falling backwards, only for your back to hit something hard.

“Are you OK?”

You turn slightly to find a slightly taller man just behind you, his hands hovering at your sides, as if ready to catch you.

“Yes, thank you. Sorry I didn’t mean to crash into you.”

He smiles gently in understanding. “Don’t worry about it. It happens.”

You return his smile politely and turn away. He is probably one of the most good-looking men you have ever seen, and your close proximity to him makes your cheeks blush. The train arrives at a stop, and some people go out, but more get on into the carriage, and like sardines, you are pressed even closer to the handsome stranger behind you.

He curses softly in Korean when someone pushes past you roughly, and you turn to look at him and tell him it is ok, all in Korean as well. His eyes twinkle at the familiarity of the language.

“Ah, I thought I heard home in your English.” He comments in your native language. “Do you live here or are you just visiting?”

“Visiting for work, till the end of the week. How about you?”

“Work and study. Two more months.” He answers, his voice tickling your ear. “Where do you get off?”

You strain to look at the subway map. “Five more stops.”

“Ah, same.” His hand shoots out to hold your side when the train jerks again. He immediately apologises. You shake your head and smile at him, telling him it is all right, and you thank him, again, for preventing you from falling over.

You feel heat creeping up your neck and cheeks for being so close to someone so good looking. You have buried yourself in work and more work since your last break-up. At first work was to take your mind off things to help you move on, but as time went on, you kept finding solace in your office, and you jumped at the opportunity to audit the overseas branches. With all that, you isolate yourself further, and loneliness becomes a friend.

The train starts rocking gently from side to side as it travels. You squeeze your eyes in embarrassment as your butt rubs against the man behind you, and you quickly try to put some distance between you and him. It is impossible however, with how packed the train is. As the train moves, you have no control over how you continue being jolted to the man behind. And oh how your body betrays you- you are actually feeling turned on from the unintentional grinding on your fellow commuter.

Your breath catches when you feel something stir against your butt. Your body feels hot all over when you realise what it is. The man clears his throat and tries to shuffle away, but you don’t know what comes over you when you grab his hand, stilling him.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, shame thick in his voice, “I didn’t mean to, I don’t know wha-”

“It’s ok,” you cut him off, your voice breathless, “I don’t mind, if you don’t.”

Surprising yourself, you squeeze his hand to signal your consent, and you move to rest it on your stomach. His body freezes for a moment, and you can feel his shallow breaths against your hair. You feel him relaxing a bit, splaying his fingers over your tummy, holding you closer. You boldly rest your body fully against his, and your bottom continues to rub on his crotch. Even when the train is moving smoothly, you writhe your hips discreetly, biting your lower lip to bit back a groan as you feel the hardening shaft behind you.

Your heart is pounding so loudly, you are sure he can feel the heartbeats. He nuzzles your hair, breathing your scent in as his fingers start to dig into your flesh over your clothes.

“God, I’m so sorry,” he whispers in your ear, “I can’t help it, you’re so fucking sexy, fuck.”

Four more stops.

You continue to grind against each other. The train is still as crowded, and to anyone looking, the two of you would look like a loved up couple commuting together. You shudder quietly when he pushes his hips forward, you can feel the whole of his length and girth.

Three more stops.

You feel your panties going wetter by the second. Your sex is throbbing so hard now, you love how hard his cock has gotten, and you salivate, almost moaning out fantasising about it stretching you. He chuckles and shushes you.

Two more stops.

“You’ve gotten me so hard. Would you like to exchange numbers so we can continue this in a more appropriate place later?”

You turn to look at him, the first time since the two of you started this erotic surreptitious action. You whimper when you see how flushed his cheeks are. “I’d like that.”

He smiles. “May I?” You feel his hand inching higher up your body. You nod and close your eyes when his fingers brush the underside of your breasts. You reach back, wanting to touch him too, and you settle on his thigh. It feels so hard and muscular under his jeans, and you squeeze it gently. He presses his forehead against your temple, and your soft moans and whimpers all mixed in together.

One more stop.

You feel so feverish now. His free hand tilts your head so he can capture your mouth in a kiss. You part your lips for him, feeling so hungry for his taste. Your tongue slides into his mouth, licking his teeth, before you nip his bottom lip. Your chest is heaving, and you wonder if you can actually cum just from all this alone. Your body and mind are so worked up already, from the feeling of his body against you, as well as your own imagination of having him fucking you in public.

Your eyes snap open when you hear the announcement of your stop. He releases your body and you want to groan in protest at the loss of his touch. However he links his fingers with yours, and you get off the train, hand in hand, following the crowd along the platform and up to the concourse. You follow him blindly, your mind still delirious. Finding a less crowded corner in the station, he pulls you back into his arm, and you melt again in his kiss.

Sanity finally returns, and reluctantly, you let go of each other. You get to look at his cherubic face properly now as he rubs your lips with his thumb. You poke your tongue out and flick it against his finger.

“Tonight?” He asks breathlessly.

You shake your head. “Sorry, I won’t be free till Friday.”

“Friday works. After 9 though, is that OK?”

“Perfect.” You take your phone out and give it to him. He enters his contact details. “Your place? Or my hotel room?”

He tilts his head. “I have flatmates. I’ll have to figure out how to get rid of them. I don’t want you to hold back.”

You cover your face in embarrassment but he pulls your hands down, so that he can kiss you again.

“My hotel room then.” You decide after breaking the kiss.

He smiles. “Give me a missed call.” You do as asked, then tell him your name so he can save it in his phone.

“Nice to meet you, _______.” He winks. “Call me even before Friday, if you want.”

“Okay.” You breathe. God, this is so wild. “I’ll talk to you soon, Park Jimin.”

He smiles again, his eyes becoming crescents as he leans forward to give you a final peck. You watch him leave, your heart is still racing and your mind is still cloudy. Has it been all a dream? Did you just almost have an orgasm in a public transport? Did you just make a date for a fuck with a total stranger?

You tuck your hair behind your ears and straighten your clothes. Yes, yes you just did all that. And you have never felt sexier and more powerful in your life.

[wroteasongabouther]

can’t stand to see you lonely: part 4

a/n: i seriously cannot thank you guys enough, and i apologies for taking a lot longer to post. but the love and kind words and support that you’ve given me has been just incredible and i could cry happy tears honestly. now, i hope u enjoy part 4 and all that it includes and pls remember to reblog and leave feedback if u did like it and share it with ur followers/friends ❤️ love u all!

and of course, as always, thank you to @arrogantstyles​ for beta reading 😘

word count: 16k

warnings: mentions of masturbation (right off the bat too ur welcome lol), cursing, consumption of alcohol (i swear they’re not drunks, just ‘tis the season ya know), and minor sexual content (!!!!!!finally!!!!!) 

fic page // let’s chat // cstsyl playlist

Harry’s breathing is loud, echoing off the walls of his shower as he struggles to inhale and exhale slowly once more. He inhales deeply and lets his hand that was resting upon the wall in front of him drop back to his side. He huffs through his mouth, blowing away some drops of water that were dripping down his face, while the other hand releases the grasp he had on his cock. Harry didn’t intend to masturbate in the shower like some hormonal teenager; he didn’t plan to masturbate last night before he got under the covers, either. It’s all Y/N’s doing, he thinks, she was clouding his head more than usual. Harry couldn’t stop thinking about last night, the lingering stares, her small delicate hands lingering on his thigh or dancing over his rings.

“Jesus,” Harry’s voice is hoarse as he curses himself. He was this close to falling back into yet another spiral down the rabbit hole that was Y/N. Which would more than likely result in him playing with himself, again.

Bringing both his hands under the water, he gives them a quick rinse before turning to his shelf where his body wash is. He pumps a bit of the goat's milk and lavender infused soap into his hand and brings it to his chest, rubbing in circles till it begins to bubble on his skin. He works his way down to the mess between his thighs, gently cleaning himself up before rinsing off. Harry turns to face the wall again.Sighing, he cups his hands under the stream of warm water and splashes it onto the wall before he just brings his hand up to wipe away the remains of his little private solo session.

Once he’s all squeaky clean, Harry turns off the water and shakes his hair out a little before he’s opening the glass shower door and stepping out. He grabs his towel, drying himself off before wrapping it around his waist. A part of him will always want to grab a second towel to wrap up his hair, but it’s no longer the length that it’s needed. Sometimes he misses his long hair. Harry makes sure the fan is on before he leaves the bathroom and walks into his bedroom.

I wonder what Y/N is doing? He thinks as he reaches into his drawers for a pair of pants, some grey sweatpants, and then walks over to his closet to grab a dark blue crew neck jumper and a plain white shirt to wear underneath. Wonder what Y/N is wearing today, Harry daydreams as he lets his towel drop and steps into his pants, then into the sweatpants next. Suddenly Harry comes to realize what he’s doing, how utterly annoying he is by thinking about what Y/N is doing at any given moment. It’s something he’s caught himself doing before, actually. He inhales through his nose and shakes his head. Just relax, he thinks and then finishes getting dressed and pockets his cell phone that was sitting on his charger before he’s walking out to his living room.

As Harry’s preparing his coffee machine for his first cup of the day, his phone begins to vibrate. Fishing it out of his front pocket, he looks at the screen to see Mitch’s contact photo. Harry sets the baby blue mug he had grabbed into place for his coffee to brew and then swipes his finger across the screen to answer Mitch’s call.

“Hey,” Harry says, holding his phone between his ear and shoulder as he opens his bread box and grabs a loaf of twelve grain.

“Is she still in bed?” Mitch asks. Harry’s eyebrows crease at his friend's absurd question.

“What?” Harry questions. His focus is on unraveling the bag his bread was in, grabbing two slices, before twisting it back up and sticking it into the bread box. He shuts the bread box and walks the few steps to his left to his toaster, plopping the bread slices into it and pushing down the buttons to get his breakfast toasting.

“Is she still in bed?” Mitch repeats himself, this time taking a brief pause after each word to really get his words across. Harry just rolls his eyes at Mitch and takes his phone back into his hand. He catches sight of the digital clock on his oven and his face twists up in confusion suddenly.

“Have you gone to sleep yet?” Harry asks, puzzled by how it’s just past nine in the morning and Mitch is somehow awake enough to call him.

“No, but that’s besides the point here, H,” Mitch says, breezes over the fact he’s an absolute lunatic for not going to sleep yet. “You’re dodging my question, so therefore I’m going to assume she’s still in bed,” he resorts. Harry can tell by the sass in his voice that he’s still buzzing from whatever amount of alcohol he had after him and Y/N left the bar last night. Harry watches his coffee drip into the mug slowly and furrows his brows once again at his friends words.

“Who’s still in bed?” Harry asks. Mitch lets out a deep breath and Harry just knows he’s rolling his eyes too.

“Who do you think I mean, Harry? The queen of England? No, I mean Y/N. Obviously,” he grumbles into the phone. Harry grabs the handle of his mug now full of coffee and rolls his eyes again.

“Y/N and I didn’t sleep together last night, sorry to disappoint,” he chirps back at Mitch.

“Bullshit, you two were basically eye fucking last night, the sexual tension was insane,” Mitch states. While Mitch is talking, Harry blows on his coffee before taking a small sip. The black coffee is still hot on his tongue, but doesn’t burn it thankfully. Suddenly his two slices of toast pop up, he sets down his mug and opens his fridge to find his small container of margarine. As he’s opening a drawer to find a butter knife, he lets out a tiny sigh.

“Like I said last night,” Harry pauses to make sure Mitch is listening, “I’m letting things settle down for her and see how it plays out,” Harry explains, resting his phone between his ear and shoulder again in order to take out the toast and spread butter on both slices.

“And what you’re saying is it didn’t play out with her ending up in your bed last night? I’m shocked, really,” Mitch says, his voice sounding genuinely surprised to hear that Harry’s night didn’t end how he imagined it would.

Honestly, Harry imagined it the same way at some points last night too. Thinking about how Y/N was a bit of a touchy drunk, therefore did that mean that she would be looking for her rebound hookup? Harry didn’t want to be that though. There was too much potential between them and this connection they’ve made so quickly, that he didn’t want to ruin it with some drunk hookup. But, yes, he imagined it, cause he’d be an idiot not to - a hot girl smiling all night at him, how she would jut out her chest just slightly cause he figured she loved how his eyes wandered over her body at times; so of course he thought of how their night could have ended differently together. Hell, he masturbated while thinking about it, twice within the past twelve hours to be exact.

Plus, their time last night was more than the sexual tension that may or may not have happened. Harry’s stomach is fluttering around just thinking about the gitty smiles and sweet words from Y/N, and how well she clicked with his best mates too. And truthfully, he was happy with how the night ended - with them in their own beds. Because their time would come eventually, Harry would let things play out however Y/N needed it to and he would wait for the right moment to swoop in and give her what he hoped was the best kiss of her life. Big dreams, Styles, he thinks to himself.

“She didn’t even think you liked her,” Harry tells Mitch, causing him to let out a snort.

“You know how I am,” he dismisses Harry's comment, “but I don’t know man, she’s good for you,” Mitch adds in a soft voice. His words make another storm of butterflies to erupt in Harry’s stomach as he smiles. “I didn’t not like her, I just sat back and let the two of you laugh all night and eye fuck each other on occasion too,” Mitch explains a little too casually. Harry shakes his head and takes a bit of his toast.

“Go to sleep, Mitch,” Harry says after he chews some of his toast.

“Good idea,” he yawns. “Talk soon,” he says.

“Bye,” Harry responds, taking his phone away from his ear and hanging up the call.

Harry grabs his plate with his half eaten toast in one hand and his coffee in the other, bringing it to his small dining table that sat against the far wall of his kitchen. Sipping his coffee now, it’s not too hot and he can actually enjoy it between bites of his toast. During him eating he finds his thoughts drifting to their typical place these days - Y/N.

Long story short, he found himself only liking her more than before after how things were between them last night. He can’t even imagine how far gone he’ll be for her if things actually went further than this blossoming friendship - with a dash of sexual tension - that they’ve established.

“This hangover is truly going to kill me,” Y/N groans out.

She’s finally standing on her two feet in the bathroom after having been sitting by the toilet for the past twenty minutes. Both her palms are face down on the counter, her arms straight as she leans forward slightly and lets her head hang heavy between her shoulders. Looking up at her reflection she sees just how dirty the tequila has done her by the bags under her eyes and the queasy feeling in her stomach as she just thinks about how much tequila she had last night.

“It’s karma for not sleeping with Harry,” Sammy taunts her, his voice coming through the speaker of her cell phone that rests on the counter beside her.

He called earlier while Y/N was still asleep, the first time in forever that she slept past ten in the morning. She had seen the call, but was too busy rushing to the bathroom to empty her stomach to return it. Then she showered away the gross hungover feeling, it only helped a little, before she got dressed into a pair of leggings and an old college hoodie and ended up in front of the toilet again as the tequila teased her making her think she was going to throw up but she didn’t - thankfully.

“I thought about it, Sammy, I swear,” she shares, letting out a sigh as she looks up at the ceiling and relaxes her body again - the threat of vomiting again seeming to fade away.

“So why didn’t you?” Sammy asks.

“Cause I just didn’t want it to be like some pointless quick fuck with him,” Y/N tells him truthfully. “Sure, I loved how as we both got buzzed things got a little more careless and touchy and flirty. But it was just fun and it made my head spin and my heart pretty much leaped out of my chest. It wasn’t just stupid pointless flirting to get laid, it was deeper than that,” she explains to her best friend. As her words spill out she realizes she doesn’t quite make sense, and yet it made perfect sense in her head how she felt about Harry.

“And you feel this way and managed to somehow not tackle this man down and fuck his brains?” Sammy questions, his voice in a joking tone but Y/N knows he’s genuinely confused.

“Obviously I imagined it,” she admits, “I fucking brought out my vibrator last night, Sammy, I was that turned on by the damn guy. But I really don’t want to mess this up with Harry. I don’t want to jump right into it after the break up with Mark, and then ruin what is hands down the best connection I’ve ever felt with someone before. I just want to see how things play out, don’t force anything, you know?” she spills out, letting out a deep breath afterwards.

Those words have been heavy on her chest since she woke up this morning and replayed everything that happened between her and Harry. The smiles, the longing looks, the drinks, the touching, the smirking, and the goddamn sexual tension. Yes, she wanted to kiss him, many, many, times; all over his body, anywhere that she could. She imagined how their night could’ve ended if she wanted just a simply messy hot drunk hookup. But she wanted more than that with Harry - so much more. It was the honest truth, regardless of how soon she’s broken up with Mark, she can’t ignore how her feelings have grown towards Harry. So, she was just going to let it go on and whatever happens, happens.

“So, what are you doing tonight?” Sammy asks, bringing the topic away from Harry - only for Y/N to bring it right back. Which was exactly how her thoughts have been doing lately too; drifting away from Harry for only a moment before flying right back to him.

“Um, I sort of drunkenly made plans to watch a movie with Harry tonight,” she says, “I don’t even know if he remembers, I’m just going to wing it and knock on his door later.”

“You know what you should do? You should invite him to the work holiday party,” Sammy suggests, “I’m getting tired of talking about him so much and yet I don’t even know what he really looks like cause you suck at taking discreet sneaky pictures,” he explains with a dramatic sigh. Y/N rolls her eyes and finally decides now is a good time to leave the bathroom, no longer feeling too sick from her hangover. But she still heads back to her bedroom, flopping down onto her bed.

“I don’t know, I don’t want to make it weird and invite him to something less casual,” Y/N says.

“Well, see how things play out these next few days and if it’s good then invite him, seriously I’m dying to see some eye candy, Y/N,” Sammy groans.

“Okay, Sammy, we’ll see,” Y/N says, matching his melodramatic tone. She lets out another sigh, which is then taken over by a yawn. “I’m going to go, my head is pounding and I think I should try and nap before dealing with some work emails and then going to Harry’s,” Y/N explains.

“Fine,” Sammy sighs, “it’s weird that you’re the hungover one and I’m not,” he mentions. Y/N lets out a laugh through her nose and shuts her eyes.

“Honestly, it is,” she agrees, “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Ok, bye, feel better,” Sammy says, Y/N hears the smile in his voice.

“Thanks, bye,” she says and then hangs up the phone. She puts it down beside her and keeps her eyes shut. Taking a few deep breaths, Y/N tries to fall back asleep again. And she’s just about to when she hears that familiar heart warming guitar from Harry’s apartment. She wonders how long he’s been up? If he’s hungover at all too? She could text him and ask, but instead she just lays there and smiles as she listens to the muffled sweet melody he’s playing - then falls back into a deep slumber that her hungover body so desperately needed.

Y/N had texted Harry earlier, after he had written an entire song, surprisingly not about her this time. Well there was one line he wrote down that had to do with Y/N - played with myself where were you. It was cheeky, and didn’t really go with anything else he had so he just flipped through his journal and let himself get immersed into his songwriting during the hours of the day. Only ever stopping to make himself food or to use the washroom - otherwise, he was working hard without even meaning to.

Her first text read, So what time should I come over to watch the Polar Express? And then her second one made Harry chuckle, Also that guitar playing sounds pretty heavenly today, can’t wait to hear it in person later. With a winking face emoji at the end and everything. Cheeky girl, and anytime after seven should be fine to come over. Harry texted her back, also adding a winking emoji and then he went back into his work, ordered dinner, and now here they were.

There’s a rather soft knock on Harry’s door, causing him to stop writing in his journal and gets up to answer it. After unlocking the door, he swings it open and is surprised to see Y/N’s arms full, nearly dropping a can of whipped cream as she smiles at him.

“I brought everything for hot chocolate,” she states, beaming up at Harry over the container that holds her hot chocolate mix.

“I can see that,” Harry chuckles and reaches out to take everything from her. “You know I could’ve helped you carry a few things over, and I also have plenty of mugs here,” he says, lifting a finger that held the Grinch mug he had used at her apartment about a week ago now.

“I know, but mine are Christmas themed and it’s literally twelve days till Christmas and I need to use them as much as possible,” Y/N explains as she steps into Harry’s home and closes the door behind them. Harry takes in her appearance. Black leggings and a FIT jumper, and a pair of pink fuzzy socks on her feet. Harry’s brows pinch together as he holds back a laugh. “It’s only a few feet between our apartments, as you know, shoes are kind of pointless going back and forth,�� she states with a nod.

Harry chuckles, lifting a brow and turning the corners of his lips up into a smile before saying, “yes, been there,” he says recalling the last time they had a movie night.

And just like that time, they moved together to the kitchen - after Harry locks the door behind Y/N - and they begin to make their hot chocolate in the two Christmas mugs Y/N brought along with her. Harry finds it endearing that she felt she needed to not only bring the supplies for hot chocolate, but also brought along her Christmas themed mugs. She truly does love the holidays, Harry thinks as he pours the boiling water into the mugs that Y/N had put the mix into. As they’re in the kitchen they’re talking about how their days were.

“So hungover,” Y/N groans, confirming how she had felt today after Harry had asked.

“You did drink that tequila like it was water though,” Harry states, chuckling as he watches Y/N stir the spoon in the mugs to mix up the hot chocolate. Y/N lets out a playful hiss as if the thought of all that tequila hurt her to think about now.

“I probably looked like a drunk in front of all your friends,” she thinks aloud. She frowns as she wraps her hand around the can of whipped cream, shaking it a few times before tipping it upside down and pushing the tip of it to fill up the top of the mug. She grabs the Grinch mug with one hand and holds it to Harry, making it smile as he realizes she remembered how he used that mug last time.

“They were just as drunk, maybe even more,” Harry tells her, “in fact, Mitch pulled an all nighter.”

“Well, good,” Y/N sighs, following him into the living room with both her hands wrapped around the Santa mug. “I really did have fun though,” she adds as they take a seat on the couch.

Harry meets her gaze after she takes a sip of her hot chocolate. A bit of whipped cream gets on her upper lip as she pulls the mug away. Y/N realizes and sticks her tongue out to swipe it over her lip, licking it away. Harry’s gaze is glued to her movements, his mouth suddenly feeling dry as he inhales slowly through his nose. And those certain thoughts of Y/N didn’t hide away for very long, Harry thinks before he clears his throat quietly and lifts his mug to his lips.

“I did too,” he says, “all of us did, they said you were cool like five times in our groupchat,” he adds before taking a sip of his warm drink. Y/N stomach lunges knowing that him and his friends talked about her in their groupchat. Has she been a topic of discussion before?

“Me? Cool?” Y/N questions, confusion thick in her voice. “No way, they’re the cool ones, not me. I mean you are all clearly very musically gifted and get to just hangout and make music and I find it all just very… Cool,” Y/N explains as she ends with a small sigh and smiles at Harry.

“It can be pretty cool, yeah,” Harry nods, mirroring her smile.

“Speaking of being musically gifted,” Y/N hums, smirking over her mug before taking another sip.

Harry knows where she’s going with this already. He gets that familiar nervous feeling in his stomach, nothing like the butterflies he was feeling just before knowing that she finds his line or work ‘cool’ - in fact he feels his smile slip immediately but tries to cover it with a cough. He sets down his mug and brings his hands to his lap, leaning back into the couch while he looks at the blank TV screen on the wall.

“Will you play something for me?” Y/N asks in that intoxicating softly spoken voice of hers.

“I want to play for you, I do,” Harry assures her after a few beats of silence, as he tried to figure out how to get her to drop this idea of him playing for her.  

“But?” Y/N inquiries, tilting her head slightly to try and look at his face better. He looks uncomfortable, Y/N thinks and tries her hardest to not frown. She guesses that he’s just got a bit of stage fright of some sorts. But he plays for a living, there must be a few people he plays in front of at the studio.

“But, I want to have the perfect song to show you,” Harry tells her as he turns to meet her eyes. It’s not a lie, he truly does want to play the most perfect song for her. But that nervous feeling in his stomach doesn’t go away.

“I’m sure all your songs are perfect,” Y/N assures him. Her voice is still as gentle as before.

“And also it’s my wrist,” Harry says suddenly, lifting his right wrist up, “I got surgery on it earlier this year, it’s just been acting up.” Quick thinking, Styles, he thinks and gives her a smile.

Y/N remembers how she had heard him playing earlier today. But by the way that Harry’s avoiding Y/N’s eyes again while this stretch of silence falls between them, and the fact he’s rubbing at his wrist for good measure too, Y/N knows that he’s not ready yet to play in front of her. So, she gives him a sweet smile and stands up from the couch suddenly.

“I have this heating pad, I use it on my ankle that I broke a few years back, it helps sometimes,” Y/N explains, “I’ll go get it,” she says.

Truthfully she just needed a moment to not have to hide how it hurt her feelings just a tad that Harry didn’t feel comfortable enough around her to play. It wasn’t the biggest deal ever, because she sure that one day he will. But it still makes her a bit sad that today’s not that day.

“Y/N, it’s fine, really,” Harry brushes off her suggestion.

“H, I live next door, I’ll be back in two seconds,” she insists, giving him a smile and walking from her seat on the couch, setting down her mug on the coffee table before she’s making her way around Harry as he sits there watching her.

“Okay,” Harry says softly and nods before Y/N is walking out of his apartment. The second the door closes behind her Harry’s deep in his thoughts.

Harry has a pretty high case of stage fright, the feeling of nerves bundling up inside of him at the thought of performing in front of people even made him feel a bit sick sometimes. It was something he’s been working on for years now, through schooling and with his career as a songwriter starting up afterwards too. He would eventually talk himself out of the fear of failing during any uni exams he had, and would ace it naturally, but that ball of nerves sat heavy in his stomach the entire time. When it came to his job, he simply warmed up to his colleagues. At first he didn’t speak up much, would stumble on some notes, but things worked out in the end. It helped a lot after he found his current group as they became his closest mates too, so he became much more comfortable with playing for them over some time.

He realizes that he considers Y/N a close friend now too, and that should mean that he would feel more than confident walking over to the acoustic guitar sitting at it’s stand in the corner by the chair in the living room - but he didn’t quite yet. And one of the main reasons was because he felt something much deeper than friendship. He really freaking liked her. And if he played something, mucking it up like an idiot because of his nerves, he would beat himself up over it for days if not weeks.

Harry imagines the first time he plays a song for her that will be perfect. The song would be about her, he’s got a few of those now, and as he plucked along slowly he’d peer up at her to find her smiling back at him. Then he would really surprise her and sing. Harry knows he can sing well, but again his stage fright that relates to a fear of failing causes him to not sing all that often. He’ll sing for demos for work, or when he’s by himself, but that’s about it. Mitch actually had asked Harry if he wanted to be a part of the band before he found their lead singer, but Harry politely declined and has more than enjoyed just sitting back and watching his friends play instead. Although there’s a small pit of jealousy and envy that’s been growing in size every time he watches them.

Suddenly the door opens back up and Harry’s snapping out of his thoughts to look over his shoulder at Y/N walking in with some brown fabric in her hands. She turns to lock Harry’s door, then turns around and holds up the heating pad in her hands with a smile. It’s a sloth, a simple stitching on it to show it’s hugging wherever it’s placed on someone’s body and a smile on its face.

“I got it not too long ago, while shopping for other people's gifts, actually,” Y/N admits and starts making her way into the kitchen. “Do you do that thing where you are supposed to just be buying presents for other people but you end up buying yourself something too?” She asks Harry, raising her voice slightly as she’s put some distance between them.

“Yes, it’s hard not to,” Harry says as watches her open his microwave and place the sloth inside. She pushes some buttons and it starts up. As the sloth spins inside, Y/N turns around and leans her back against the counter and looks through the open concept space at where Harry sat on the couch.

“Have you bought any presents this year?” She asks, knowing that he’s not going home for Christmas so therefore he wouldn’t have to buy much.

“Just some for Mitch, Adam and his wife and then Tom and Jenny,” Harry states, “what about you? Do you have lots of family to buy gifts for?”

“Not really,” Y/N lifts one shoulder in a shrug, “I’m an only child, but my aunt has a couple kids so I kind of go crazy for them,” she explains with a smile. The microwave beeps, signalling that the heating pad was all warmed up, and Y/N turns back around to open the door and grabs it. It’s not too warm, so she closes the microwave door and makes her way back over to Harry.

She hands the heating pad to Harry and he gives her a smile. He says a quiet ‘thank you’ and places it over his wrist that’s resting on his thigh. It does feel rather nice, actually, he thinks as he adjusts his hand under the warm sloth. He feels a bit bad for making up the little white lie, although his wrist does ache from time to time, it wasn’t in any sort of pain right now. But he’s just being a stupid little coward and deflecting her attention on him playing her something on his guitar. Harry does notice how Y/N’s eyes linger on the acoustic guitar across the room as she leans over to grab her hot chocolate again and takes her seat on the couch once more. You’re such an ass, Styles, Harry thinks to himself but clears his throat and looks at Y/N.

“Did you enjoy growing up as an only child?” He asks. Harry personally couldn’t imagine growing up on his own. His sister, Gemma, was one of his best friends and he was also rather close with cousins while growing up too so they felt a bit like siblings too.

“Not really, no,” Y/N answers truthfully. She clears her throat and looks down at the Santa mug in her hands. “My parents were always busy with working or socializing, sometimes I was invited to come along, other times I was kept away with a nanny or my Aunt would visit sometimes and keep me company.” She tells Harry, feeling herself slowly open up to the idea of sharing everything with him. She hardly told Mark a thing about her childhood or her parents - mostly because he already knew, since he grew up in the same sort of crowd.

“Are you close with your Aunt then?” Harry asks, keeping his voice in that low tone that still brought goosebumps to Y/N’s skin from time to time.

Y/N’s lips tug slightly up into a smile, looking up from her mug and meeting Harry’s gaze. “Yes, she’s probably the one family member that I am close with. I love my parents, don’t get me wrong,” she pauses and ponders how to explain it to him, looking up at the ceiling for only a moment before looking back at Harry. “They just value life a bit differently than me. My Aunt, Vivian, she’s just the most chill and most like me I guess,” Y/N settles with keeping it easy, not digging too deep into her family drama.

Her Aunt Viv, who was her mothers younger sister, was truly the only person in her family that she felt she connected with. Y/N did love her mom and dad, they gave her a life better than she could ever ask for, but they were much more into the lifestyle and gaining wealth and social status over being a true loving family. Hence the many after school programs they stuck her in, and also having a live-in nanny till she was fourteen. But when Viv was around things felt a bit normal in her ridiculously abnormal life.

Viv didn’t have the same big dreams of being a gold digger like Y/N’s mom did, so she went to university, fell in love with a nice young man who worked a normal blue collar type of job and they bought a house just outside of New Jersey. They never ask for any help from Y/N’s parents, and they worked very hard for the life they’re provided for their two young kids. She just found Viv to be much more inspiring than her own mother who’s days included online shopping and luncheons with fellow wives who lived off their wealthy husbands' money. As Y/N grew up, Viv would take her away from her nanny some nights and would just bring her to her home and watch movies, have painting nights, and would even sit down with Y/N for hours watching red carpet events too - knowing her love for fashion even at a young age. She became Y/N’s friend more than another snobby family member.

Harry had respectfully stayed quiet as he saw Y/N fall into deep thought. He didn’t want to ask anymore questions that would cross any lines because from what little he has heard, Y/N’s family life is a bit more complicated than he could imagine. Y/N smiles suddenly, as she’s thinking of a memory.

“Viv was actually the one who really got me into the love for the holidays,” she states, “like, yeah, my parents would go all out with the decorations and the gifts and the parties. But Viv introduced me to the better part of the holidays in my opinion, like she’d take me to the rinks around the city to skate, and she’d show me the city’s festive sights. We’d even have days dedicated to going to the Christmas market. And during all that she’d always have a Starbucks holiday drink in her hand. I guess you could say I sort of modelled my young adult self to be like her during the holidays,” Y/N explains with a smile on her lips.

Those times slowly sadly faded out after Y/N got into high school, and Viv finished uni and met her husband. They wouldn’t go to the rink as much, or go for pointless walks to see the city’s many lights and Christmas Trees. Before Y/N knew it, all those childhood memories that she cherished just slid away, but she understood - they both grew up and she would hold onto those memories that her Aunt Vivian gave her to her heart closely forever.

“But as we both got older, life got busy and now she gets to do all those things over again with her own kids and not her sisters neglected one,” Y/N tries to make it sound like a joke, but it wasn’t.

She hides her frown behind her Santa mug and takes a generous sip, the drink having grown colder as time has passed. Harry’s about to make a comment, about how he’s grateful that Y/N did at least have her Aunt, but Y/N speaks up before he can.

“What about you? What were the holidays like growing up?” She asks, a smile returning to her lips.

“Great, honestly,” Harry nods, letting a short chuckle pass his lips, “my family can be a bit nuts, they love family time and being overbearing with playing silly games or family photos. But, I love it,” Harry explains, smiling.

He thinks about last year, how competitive him and his family got during a game they had played, or how big his mum and gran smiled as they popped Christmas crackers and everyone wore those paper crowns for one of the many photos his mum insisted on taking.

Y/N is mirroring his smile, tucking her mug to her chest as she listens to him. Sounds like a much better time than the memories she has with her parents around the holidays, Y/N thinks feeling a bit jealous - as she did whenever anyone told her of their holiday traditions and such.  She can’t help but notice the distant look in his eyes as he grabs his mug.

“It’s actually the first Christmas I won’t be spending with my family, as I mentioned before,” he states, clearing his throat afterward as the emotions threaten to come in quick. He takes a sip of his hot chocolate and points to the TV then. “Should I pull up the movie before we’re sitting here drinking cold chocolate?” Harry asks. Because, truthfully, he could sit here all night and talk about life with Y/N but they had planned to watch a movie.

“Sure,” Y/N smiles, although feeling a bit sad being reminded that Harry wasn’t going home for the holidays. She takes another sip of her drink again, before she’s turning her body to watch the TV screen on the wall as Harry grabs for the remote and finds the Polar Express on demand.

As the movie begins to play, they both get comfortable and sip their hot chocolates till their Christmas mugs are empty. Harry offers to take Y/N’s mug, so she doesn’t have to sit up from the slouched position she’s slipped into in her corner of the couch, placing it beside his on the coffee table before he relaxes back into his spot. It’s about half way through the movie, after they had jokingly sung along with the hot chocolate song of course, when Y/N is nearly laying out on her end of the couch. Harry feels selfish for not offering the side he’s on, as he has his legs stretched out on the chaise of the couch. Y/N slowly lets her legs slip out across the cushion between them till they’re just slightly bent and the fuzzy pink socks on her feet just barely brush Harry’s thigh.

Her toes wiggle a little, tapping against the side of Harry’s thigh ever so gently, but it causes a much less gentle reaction in his body. His stomach fluttering and his heart pounding as he glances at Y/N in the corner of his eye. A feeling of undesirable desire filters through him as she wiggles her toes again before settling her feet hardly even touching him. But it’s more the act of being comfortable around Harry that has him feeling like his heart might explode.

He’s tempted to grab onto her ankles and stretch out her legs completely so her feet would rest in his lap. Maybe he’d rub her calves, hoping the feeling made her stomach flutter as much as his. But he didn’t want to cross any sort of line. So he was content with the tiny bit of contact between them from her feet resting on the side of his thigh as the movie kept playing.

It wasn’t till near the very end that Harry heard a soft snore come from Y/N. He turns his head completely and looks over at her. Her eyes shut, her lips parted slightly, as she laid on her arms folded under her head. Harry isn’t sure how to react here, should he wake her? Or let her slumber because it’s obvious she needs it since she fell asleep during what she claims to be her favourite holiday movie. Harry ponders for a moment before he decides to finish watching the movie. Once it’s finished is when he’d make his decision.

“Y/N,” Harry says as the credits are rolling. She doesn’t move a muscle. “Y/N, darling,” Harry tries again in a gentle voice, placing a hand on her leg and giving her one good nudge. To which Y/N doesn’t respond at all.

That hangover must be hitting her body hard, begging for the sleep she needed to fully recover. So, Harry reaches for the knitted blanket that’s resting over the back of his couch and paces it over Y/N’s body. As he gets up from the couch, he turns back around and looks at Y/N for a moment - taking in her effortless beauty even while she’s sleeping.

With a nearly inaudible sigh, Harry gathers up their mugs, bringing them to his kitchen and quietly rinsing them out before he double checks that the heat is at a reasonable temperature. It was supposed to get rather cold tonight and he didn’t want Y/N to wake up freezing in his home. Once he’s turned off the TV and the only lights left on are from his tree, he turns back to Y/N. The soft glow from the Christmas lights casting over her breathtaking features causes yet another stir of feelings inside his stomach.

He wishes he could bend down, place a soft kiss to her forehead - maybe one day soon he could. Maybe even get to fall asleep next to her, staring at her beauty till he drifted into a slumber as well. But for now, he just quietly walks down the hall to his bedroom and leaves his door open a few inches just in case Y/N woke up in a panic or anything. He’d be a lighter sleeper than usual tonight, thinking about how close Y/N was.

At one point in the middle of the night Y/N woke up. Her eyelids were still heavy as she tried to focus on the space around her. She had fallen asleep during the movie, in Harry’s apartment, on his couch - oh god. A wave of embarrassment washed over her as her eyes flicker from the blank TV screen, to the now empty other side of the couch, before settling on the warm lights of the Christmas tree.

She should get up and head home to her own apartment and not be an idiot who falls asleep on her friend's couch uninvited. Y/N’s fingers curl around the top of the warm blanket that Harry must’ve draped over her before heading to bed himself. The pads of her fingers brush over the soft fabric while her heart beats like crazy in her chest. Harry’s sweetness and well mannered actions shouldn’t surprise Y/N anymore - but they do. She smiles and brings the blanket to her chin, snuggling into the couch once more and tries to not think about how sore her neck and back will be in the morning from sleeping on the couch. Instead she looks at the Christmas tree as her eyelids grow heavy again and she slips back into her dreamstate once more.

The next time she wakes it’s due to the sun peering through the curtains in Harry’s living room. She blinks a few times and brings a hand up to rub the sleep from her eyes. Suddenly she hears a noise coming from a few feet away from her. Y/N’s heart all but leaps out of her chest as she sits up on the couch and looks to where the noise came from. Her wide eyes meet Harry’s equally widened eyes, him pausing mid-movement as he must’ve been grabbing a mug from the cabinet.

“Sorry,” he says quietly, bearing his clenched teeth to her in a joking but nervous way. His dimple deepens at the facial expression, Y/N notices it right away even from a room away from him.

“It’s okay,” she replies. Her voice sounds a little scratchy as it’s the first time using it since waking. How utterly adorable, Harry thinks as he smiles at her and sets his mug down at his coffee maker before hitting start. “And I should be the one apologizing, I kinda ended up crashing on your couch uninvited,” Y/N says, running a hand through her hair to try and tame it.

“It wasn’t a problem, Y/N, nothing to be sorry about,” Harry tells her, walking towards her till he got to the large threshold between his open concept kitchen and living room. He crosses his arms at his chest and Y/N notices how the muscles in his arms flex immediately. “Must have been a hangover side effect, hm?” Harry questions.

Y/N clears her throat as she tries to not take in Harry’s appearance in the morning but she can’t help herself. He’s wearing a pair of black sweatpants with a simple grey t-shirt, white socks covering his feet, and while him dressed down did look hot - it was how his hair looked that really took her breath away. The way it looks much more fluffy than usual, most likely from rolling around in his bed, made her stomach flutter and she ended up biting her bottom lip as he brought a hand up to push back the bit of hair that had fallen over his forehead. Y/N blinks a few times before meeting his gaze again.

“You’d think the nap I took before coming over would help with my hangover but I guess not,” Y/N states, she exhales through her nose and shakes her head before folding her arms over the back of the couch and rests her chin on them. “But again, I’m sorry,” she adds.

“And again, it’s okay,” Harry ensures her, dropping his arms to his sides as he smiles. “Now, would you like a cup of hot chocolate or coffee?” He asks.

“Coffee,” Y/N answers, her voice back to that soft and gentle tone that made Harry’s head spin. He recalls when they first met, and how he wished he could hear her voice each night and morning. His wish is slowly coming true, although he imagines it involving her in bed more often than not. But for now, he’ll take her waking up on his couch any day if it means he gets to hear her voice.

Harry nods and walks back over to where the mug filled of freshly brewed coffee now sat. Y/N tilts her head to the left, still resting her chin on her arms, as she watches Harry move around his kitchen. He calls over his shoulder to ask what she’d like in her coffee, with which she replies ‘two teaspoons of sugar please’ - that earns her a half smile as he glances her way again and mutters ‘why am i not surprised’, causing Y/N to mock a hurt look on her face and gasps.

“What is that supposed to mean?” She questions, watching him stir up the sugar in her coffee. Harry turns and brings the mug over to her, causing her to sit up straight again and grab it from him with both hands.

“It means you love sugar as much as any toddler would, I swear,” Harry teases.

“Something wrong with liking the taste of something sweet?” She questions, raising a brow as she looks up at him from where he stood on the other side of the back of the couch.

Harry’s breath hitches in his throat at her choice of words. He immediately wants to answer back with ‘well I want to taste you, all of you, so no’ but instead he holds back his filthy thoughts and gulps. Y/N notices Harry’s Adam's apple bob up and down as she stares up at him through her lashes, slowly bringing the mug he had just given her to her lips to give it a taste. Harry watches her the entire time as she sips the coffee and licks it off her lips. Everything inside of him is begging to touch her. To bring the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip, catching the last few drops of her drink off her lip, and bringing it to his mouth to get a taste. Or to just take the mug right back, place it on the closest surface and take her face into his hands to kiss her fiercely.

Harry struggles but pushes away his thoughts once again, for what felt like the millionth time this morning, and raises an eyebrow, “sweet enough for you?” He asks, his voice teasing.

Y/N smiles sweetly and nods once, “it’s perfect, thank you,” she replies.

Harry mirrors her smile before he walks back to his kitchen, only then looking down at his sweatpants to ensure there wasn’t any noticeable bulge. It had taken a few disturbing images in his head to calm himself down and not be sporting a hard on in front of Y/N. But he manages, grabs his own mug - since Y/N now held his typical mug he uses for his morning coffee - and sets it into place.

“Any plans today?” Y/N asks, taking another sip of her coffee and feeling the warmth flood inside of her body. Or maybe that feeling was from how Harry had looked at her just now, she thinks.

“Nope,” Harry shakes his head and grabs for his own mug of black coffee. “What about you? No work today?” He asks, bringing the mug to his lips and blowing to cool it down before taking a sip.

Y/N shakes her head and leans back into the side of the couch, “my boss was nice enough to let us have today off, then back in for a few days but Friday, the eighteenth, isn’t really a big work day. We’re having our annual holiday party that night, so we mostly spend the day finalizing any party planning,” she explains to Harry as he leans back against the counter and sips his coffee again.

“Well that’s nice of her to give you the day off, then after the eighteenth are you off work for holidays?” Harry asks.

“Yup,” she nods, “I get two weeks off, back into the swing of things on the fourth of January,” she states.

“Sounds nice,” Harry says with a smile. “I’m jealous you guys have an office Christmas party, my label only really does something for a select group of people. Whoever made them the most money, honestly,” Harry exclaims. What he doesn’t mention is that he had been invited, and has been for the past three years due to his songs hitting it big on radio or on the charts and causing some big ripples for the artists career that had bought them.

“Sounds like the party wouldn’t be all that fun then,” Y/N notes, tilting her head to the side as she watches Harry make his way into the living room and takes a seat on the couch. She tucks her feet up just under her bottom, resting her mug on her knees but still keeping both hands on it of course.

“I’m sure yours is a lot more fun,” Harry nods in agreement.

She should ask him to be her plus one then. But she hesitates, unsure of how he would see her invite. Would he think she’s trying to make it a date? So soon after her break up? Would he think he was being played as her rebound? She would then have to try and cover up that it wasn’t a date, that they could just go as friends, but then she’d sound like she was friend-zoning him and she really didn’t want that. So, while she’s all in her head about what to do, Harry decides to take a chance.

“Did you want to go for a walk around Central Park?” He asks, looking hopefully into Y/N’s eyes. “We can skate there, I’m sure you’ve been but their rink looks like it would be nice too,” Harry suggests.

Her lips tug up into a smile, “yeah, I would love that,” she pauses as her heart pitter patters in her chest at the sight of Harry smiling back at her. “After breakfast though, I’m starving,” she says, being a bit dramatic. But it makes Harry chuckle, which is exactly what she hoped for.

“How do you feel about some chocolate chip pancakes then?” Harry asks, raising a brow as he sits up straight again and mentally goes through the recipe in his head. It typically doesn’t have pancakes, let alone chocolate chip pancakes, but he has a feeling Y/N would like them. Her love for sugar being obvious by now.

“Love them,” Y/N says with a smile still on her lips.

Where did this perfect man come from? Y/N finds herself thinking as she watches Harry get up from the couch and walk back into the kitchen. He sips his coffee as he walks before setting it on the counter.

“I can help if you’d like,” she offers, raising her voice slightly so she knew Harry could hear her.

But Harry dismisses the idea quickly and tells her to just sit back and relax. Any bets on how much longer it took for her to fall for Harry? Y/N thinks, biting her bottom lip as she watches him bend over, peering deep into his fridge as he moves things out of the way in search for whatever he needs. His bum looks rather nice from this angle, she finds herself shamelessly checking him out. Her guess was that it wouldn’t be much longer at all till she fell for him.

“Did you invite him yet?” Sammy asks, biting on his pen as he leans back in his chair. They were waiting in the conference room, along with everyone else that held a higher position at her work, for Amanda to join them and start their final meeting of the year.

“No,” Y/N replies. She shrugs her shoulders and picks at the corner of her notebook.

“And why the hell not?”

“I don’t want to make it weird, bringing him to a work thing and have to explain to everyone how he’s just a friend even though I wish he was more,” she tells Sammy, eyes still on the torn up paper on the table in front of her.

“Well if you don’t invite him then you’re missing the perfect opportunity to make it more than a friendship,” Sammy states, giving her a side eye before he just rolls them and leans forward in his seat again. He leans towards Y/N and looks into her eyes, letting her know he means business. “Talk to him tonight, invite the poor man, and get out of your own head. You don’t have to keep yourself waiting because of what Mark did when you have what you truly deserve right in front of you. Harry makes you happy, I can just tell by the way you smile at your phone or when I see you ditched hanging with me to hang with him and his friends instead,” he says the last bit with sarcastic bitterness.

Y/N lets out a deep breath through her nose and licks her lips. Her brain is running a million miles an hour. As it has been for weeks now, since she met Harry honestly - she just likes him that much. At first she tried to deny it, and last weekend after her sudden break up with Mark she tried to convince herself again that she needed to keep Harry as a friend. But now, now she just wanted him - all of him, all of the time.

“Okay,” Y/N nods.

Sammy’s lips spread up into a wide smile, the look of excitement clear on his face, but to add to it he pumps a fist into the air. Y/N just rolls her eyes and laughs at him. Amanda enters the room soon after, starting up their final meeting of the year. She goes over numbers, stats, comparing last year to this year, and even promotes a few people. Thankfully, Y/N and Sammy are in their ideal positions now, so they never have that nervous feeling of going into a year-end meeting praying for a promotion. But Y/N still grins and claps for her colleagues who are working their way up in the company. After going through some minor details for their annual holiday party tomorrow, Amanda dismisses the team and Y/N is soon after heading home for the day.

Don’t be a pussy. Ask Harry to come to the holiday party or else. Sammy had texted her after they parted ways at the subway. Y/N bit down on her bottom lip, reading over the texts again as the elevator sounds a soft ding! and she walks out onto the sixth floor. Y/N confidently walks on her platform Doc Martin boots passed her own apartment door and right to Harry’s. Lifting her free hand, the other holding her Starbucks holiday drink, she knocks four times on the door before patiently waiting for him to answer. Her heart is beating so loud she can practically hear it ringing in her ears.

Harry answers the door after a few moments, his eyebrows pulling together at the sight of Y/N on the other side. While it’s a delight to see her, they hadn’t planned to hangout at all - so he’s rather surprised to see her standing before him. Y/N smiles and Harry’s quick to mirror it.

“Hey,” she breathes out, the same bundle of nerves that have been with her all day seeming to not relax in the slightest.

“Hey,” Harry smiles, “what’s up?” He asks, leaning against his door.

“Um,” Y/N pauses and closes her eyes, opening them to look at the floor before she takes a deep breath to meet his gaze again. Oh no, Harry thinks, feeling nervous since answering the door as he’s unsure how to take in her nonverbal cues right now. “So, you know that holiday party my work’s having that I mentioned?” Y/N questions, when Harry nods she doesn’t leave another second of hesitation slide by her before continuing. “I was wondering if, maybe, you’re not busy, if you wanted to come with me,” she stumbles out her invitation.

Harry’s truthfully a little surprised by her inviting him. His eyebrows now raised up his forehead as he processes her words. He immediately wants to say yes, obviously. Besides his clear as day feelings for Y/N, he also saw her as a friend too and he would love to accompany her for anything she asked him to.

“Everyone gets a plus one, and I can’t imagine bringing anyone else but you with me. Also, Sammy is practically begging me to introduce you two already,” Y/N exclaims as it seems Harry was in his head for too long. He smiles at her statements. First, blushing slightly at her comment about how she couldn’t imagine inviting anyone but him, and then holding back a chuckle at her mentioning her friend Sammy.

“It’s tomorrow, right?” Harry asks, half to just be sure and half to delay his answer to jokingly stress her out a little maybe.

“Yes,” Y/N nods, biting on her bottom lip for a moment. When Harry’s eyes fall to her teeth nibbling on her pink lips she notices and stops, butterflies present in her stomach at the thought of Harry thinking about her lips.

“I think I’m free,” Harry teases. He brings a hand to his chin, looking up at the ceiling in a joking manner as if he’s pondering what else could be on his schedule for the day. Y/N knows that he’s not doing a whole lot these days, but for all she knows he could have already had things planned with his friends. But Y/N can’t lie - she’s happy to hear he hasn’t.

Y/N chuckles and reaches forward, smacking his arm that’s resting on his chin with a gentle force. Harry chuckles along with her and stops his act as if he’s really thinking about if he can accept her invitation or not. Y/N lets her arms fall back to her side again and smiles, looking into Harry’s dazzling eyes as he smiles back at her. They stand there in his doorway, smiling, for a few beats of silence before Harry tells her.

“You’re going to have to help me with an outfit though,” he says, “there is no way I’m going to a party in New York City that a ton of fashion obsessed people will be at, without your help,” he states. Y/N chuckles again and nods, bringing her Starbucks cup to her mouth slowly.

“I can do that,” she says, tilting her cup to have a sip of the warm liquid.

“Okay,” Harry nods, “and what time will you be picking me up for this date?” He asks jokingly, although a big piece of him is hoping she won’t deny that it’s a date.

Y/N smiles, feeling a blush creeping onto her cheeks, “like, six-ish,” she tells him.

“Sounds good,” Harry says.

“Good,” Y/N nods, a smile still on her lips, “I have to go now though, I have a few presents for my coworkers I need to wrap and some last minute phone calls to make to get things all set for tomorrow,” Y/N explains, taking a few slow steps backwards while her eyes are still glued to Harry’s.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Harry says, his smile never flattening either.

“Yes,” Y/N nods, her stomach in a fit of butterflies as she realizes that she really just invited him to her work party.

Turning on her heels, she hears Harry close his door, and walks to her own apartment to unlock the door. She did it, she’s going to be bringing Harry to a work function - this was kinda big, she realizes, but she’s too excited to worry right now. So, instead she turns on her Christmas playlist on her TV, after she steps out of her shoes and hangs up her coat, and sings along as she sets up her little workstation to wrap a few presents.

Y/N has been running around like a chicken with their head chopped off all day. She was determined to have this holiday party be perfect. Harry was her plus one, she imagined things going so well between the two of them tonight. But then things started to go south the moment she walked into the office this morning and Amanda bombarded her at the front doors, “we were double booked” she had told Y/N. Turns out their location for their party tonight was double booked and the other function had already paid off the business to let them have the space. Therefore having Y/N scrabbling for a place to have this party.

“We should just have it here,” Sammy suggested. 

It was a last resort suggestion, but in reality it could work. The building their office was in had a decent sized room that was used for conferences and such. And after calling the building staff they learnt it wasn’t being used, so they started working on getting that set up.

Y/N was on the phone for hours, making sure the catering and bar services company they hired knew the relocation, and having them show up on time to get the set up going too. Then she was downstairs to help the decorations team replan their set up before she was literally running down the streets to the Target in order to buy new table clothes that would fit the tables the building provided. And somehow, with a little blood and sweat and a few tears shed too, Y/N made it happen.

She lets out a loud deep breath and looks at the room around her. The shimmering lights hanging down from the ceiling, perfectly placed so they wouldn’t hit anyone in the head but still looking very dreamy. There’s one wall full of fresh wreaths, some huge and some small, with matching red ribbons and ornaments on them. It’s picture perfect and Y/N already had taken a short video of them as they were setting it up to post on her Instagram. The way the plain white tablecloths she had bought earlier were now styled with more fresh pine that was used for the wreaths, with a few candles on each table and more red Christmas ornaments too, it all just looked so good. She especially loved the large real Christmas tree that she and Sammy took the time to decorate that sat in the far corner of the room by the gorgeously decorated bar that stretches along the back wall. Overall, it’s fashionable, Instagram worthy, and perfect.

Y/N is about to tell someone hired for the event to add a few more beaded garlands around the entryway when her phone rings. She gives the young woman a smile and holds up a finger while producing her phone that’s in her jean pocket. Looking at the screen she sees Harry’s name at the top, which causes a flutter of butterflies in her stomach. She smiles and swipes a finger across the screen to answer his call.

“Hey,” she says, walking away from the people that are rushing around her to finalize the party.

“Hey,” Harry breathes out. Y/N can hear the nerves in the one word. She furrows her brows and begins to worry that maybe he can’t make it anymore, suddenly feeling very upset at the thought. “You’re late,” he states. Y/N’s brows pinch together further and her eyes narrow.

“What?” She questions.

“Well, it’s almost six, and you’re supposed to help me pick something to wear, but I understand if you can’t or don’t want to. I’m sure I can figure something out, but don’t want to make you look bad by bringing a badly dressed bloke to your party,” Harry explains, catching himself sounding a bit needy. He didn’t need her to help style him for the holiday party, but he wanted her opinion of course.

“Oh my god what time is it?” Y/N gasps, asking Harry the question but really more asking herself as she realizes time has slipped by her in the whirlwind that was relocating this party.

“Um, quarter to six,” Harry tells her.

“Shit, H, I’m sorry, I haven’t looked at a clock in hours, I’m still at my office. We had to work fast and relocate the party for tonight, I’ve been so busy I didn’t even realize,” Y/N explains, her eyes searching around the room for either Amanda or Sammy or really anyone that could take over for her to hurriedly get ready.

“Oh, it’s okay, not a problem really,” Harry says, tapping a pen on the notebook that’s in front of him. He had been caught up a bit with his own work too, writing a song.

“Okay,” Y/N sighs, “game plan, you can send me pictures of some things you can wear tonight, I’ll give you my opinion, and then I’ll get ready here and are you okay to meet me in the lobby at seven-thirty?” Y/N asks, finally locking eyes with Amanda across the room.

Amanda’s eyes are wide at the sight of her, arms thrown up into the air as she’s confused as to why Y/N is still here - Y/N may have told her she had to meet up with her new plus one. Amanda was just as excited to meet Harry as Sammy was, damn gossiper had gone and told Amanda all about Y/N and Mark’s breakup and about Harry now too. Y/N had glared at Sammy as Amanda asked a million questions about Harry earlier.

“Okay,” Harry nods, “I can do that, did you need me to bring you anything or are you all set at your office?”

Y/N smiles at Harry naturally asking her if she needed anything from him. “I’m good, I’ll just text you the address and let me know when you’re on the way, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry echoes.

“Okay, I have to go, I’ll see you soon,” she says. Harry says a goodbye before she hangs up the phone just as Amanda is walking up to her.

“What in the world are you still doing here? I thought you were supposed to leave like an hour ago to go get ready and meet up with your new man?” Amanda questions. She is dressed for tonight's festivities, wearing a sparkling silver gown that fit her like a glove. Her hair is out of it’s usual low ponytail and is pin straight. She looks amazing, of course.

“First,” Y/N points a finger, “not my new man, by any means. And second, I got caught up helping with some issues with catering and then I was fixing some lighting issues. I’m going upstairs to get ready, and Harry is meeting me here,” she tells Amanda.

“Go, go,” she shoos her off, “steal a good dress from that room of broken dreams.”

Amanda is referring to the small room upstairs in their office that holds many pieces from over the year that clients didn’t fit, didn’t like, or just simply didn’t get to see. Y/N nods, having already planned to go there, and rushes away to get upstairs and get ready. As she opens the door to the room full of clothing Harry texts her a few pictures of items in his closet he has for tonight.

Her eyes are glued on her screen, attention taken away from her finding something the moment she sees Harry’s name. There’s a black suit laid on his bed in the first picture, the idea of seeing him in a classic black suit and tie has her feeling some type of way, but it’s not the look for tonight. She swipes to the next photo and likes the cream and light blue vertical stripe button up shirt but not the deep purple trousers he paired with them. But in the next picture she really likes the fun look to the trousers, like a sort of grandpa’s sweater vibe with browns and whites in an interesting square pattern. Completely ignoring the black shirt he had paired with it, she texts him back.

Shirt from the second pic and pants from the third one! Trust me! Lol. And here’s the address, she types quickly, sending him her location, before pocketing her phone and turning to the first rack of clothing. Immediately she grabs for a light blue Gucci suit jacket. It would go with Harry’s outfit perfectly, she thinks with a smile, putting it to the side for him. She remembers the suit was too big for a certain younger actor who was hosting SNL last week, Timothee something or another, if she’s remembering correctly.

Y/N goes through what feels like is a hundred dresses, pantsuits, and everything in between before she finds the one she likes. It’s her size, thank god, and isn’t too shimmery and crazy like she feels everyone else will be dressed like. It’s a bit of a darker blue that the colour of the suit jacket she had pulled aside for Harry, with thin straps and a tight torso that had wires for under his boobs for a built in bra type of look. It ends just above her ankles and is embroidered with beautiful beads and stunning flowers and leaf designs. But with a bit of a scandalous look as the embroidery isn’t as crowded near the bottom of the dress and leaves her in a sheer fabric. Overall, she just really enjoys how it looks and feels - and truthfully, she can’t be too picky with such little time to finish getting ready now.

It works out perfectly as she looks over herself in the washroom on the main level, fluffing her hair that she had curled and touching up her makeup, Harry texts that he’s just about to walk inside. Hurrying through out of the washroom, she walks out into the lobby, the black heels she had taken from the heap of shoes upstairs click along the floor as she waves hello and smiles at the people around that she knows. There would be just over a hundred people in attendance for their party tonight, not too big but not too small either, and she was happy to see all the familiar faces she’s gotten to work with over the year. But, there is one face in particular she’s most happy to see.

Only Harry’s not alone. In fact, she shouldn’t be all that surprised to see her best friend had managed to single him out in the small crowd that was waiting to get into the conference room she’s spent all day setting up. She sighs and makes her way towards them, smiling at another colleague that gave her a quick compliment as she passed by. Sammy caught her eye first, noticing how she’s glaring at him but he only smirks back at her.

Then Harry shifts, looking over his shoulder at whatever Sammy is looking at, and he pauses at the sight of Y/N only a few feet away. Holy shit, Harry thinks to himself as he takes in how she looks. The dress fits her flawlessly, accentuating her curves and causing Harry to shamelessly check her out. She’s always beautiful, stunning really, but tonight she looks like she should be a runway model. He feels a bit underdressed beside her, even though she picked out his outfit, even just a jacket would make him feel a little less casual at this event.

“You look,” Harry pauses as he struggles to find the right word. Y/N has stopped now in front of him, hands fiddling with her small clutch resting in front of her. “Just, unbelievable, wow,” Harry finally breathes out. His words cause a warm blush to creep over his face, her eyes falling to the floor to catch his black boots on his feet, as she hides away her grin.

“You look really good, too,” she tells him, although her words are far less swoon worthy than his words. It still causes Harry to smile too, his stomach doing a few flips.

“And how do I look?” Sammy asks jokingly, breaking their moment as they both turn to look at him. He’s smirking and holding out both arms, showing off his sparkling gold suit jacket that he’s worn with some black tight suit pants and a black button up shirt. He looks good, obviously, but Y/N shoulders shake as she chuckles at her friends behaviour.

“You look marvellous,” Harry compliments him with a smile, Y/N looks at Harry and shakes her head.

“Oh, he’s good,” Sammy notes, pointing a finger at Harry but is looking at Y/N. “If you don’t keep him I’ll take him, like that little feeling I get in my stomach when he speaks, hm,” he hums, winking at Harry for good measure too. Both Harry and Y/N chuckle at her friend. Suddenly someone is calling for Sammy’s attention, and of course, he answers to it right away and leaves Y/N and Harry to themselves.

“I’m sorry about him,” Y/N says as they face each other once more, “Sammy can be a lot to handle,” she adds.

“He wasn’t that bad,” Harry assures her.

She hums and smiles, narrowing her eyes at him playfully. “I find that hard to believe, but alright,” she says, “oh! I have something for your outfit,” she mentions, grabbing his arm gently to guide the way to the building's front desk where they had set up a coat check.

Harry’s in his own head about how she so naturally grabbed onto him, her delicate hand wrapped around his arm before dropping down to her side again as she approached the line that was for coat check. He furrows his brows, confused if she was going to ask for the jacket he had brought with him, but instead he watches as she walks around the tables and helps herself to the rack of jackets. She pulls out a light blue suit jacket and smiles over it at him, watching as his eyes widen. He knows the jacket, it was a part of Gucci’s line last season. He had browsed through some Vogue article and loved the colour immediately, how did she know?

“It’s just sitting upstairs, unworn, and it deserves some attention,” Y/N explains, holding it out for him.

“I can just wear this, tonight? No fee?” Harry asks, finding this situation a little unreal honestly.

“Well,” Y/N gives him a smug smile, “how about your fee is a dance with me, later,” she bargains.

“Oh, there will be plenty of dancing, of course,” Harry says. He takes the suit jacket off the hanger, passing the empty hanger back to Y/N and then puts on the jacket. Shrugging his shoulders a few times to get it to sit right on his body, but boy does it ever fit him well. Like it was made for him, honestly. Cause my god does it ever look good on him, Y/N thinks as she watches him straighten out the jacket till it feels comfortable. Harry looks up to see Y/N staring at him, her teeth sunk into her bottom lip. He smirks, dimples popping up for show, and it causes Y/N to snap out of it and turn to put the hanger away. She then takes the few steps forward to Harry and smiles while looking up at him.

“You look phenomenal,” Y/N tells him, upping her previous compliment from before. Harry’s heart swells at her words and he extends his bent arm, for her to hold onto his forearm.

“Shall we?” Harry asks, motioning for her to grab onto his arm and walk into the now open doors to her party.

“We shall,” she smiles and puts her hand on his arm to let him guide them into the party she spent all day preparing. Y/N can’t help but notice the looks the people around them are giving her, a few smirks from other girls - with obvious jealousy on their faces. It makes her head spin, realizing that she’s about to be the talk of the office all because of the hot guy on her arm. Little do they know, he’s a lot more than how good he looks in this light blue suit jacket.

It only takes an hour before the rest of the people at the party realize that Harry is more than that pretty face of his.

He charms the socks off of every single person she introduces him to. Not to mention that Sammy is basically attached to his hip, begging for the attention, and Amanda has given Y/N a thumbs up every chance she’s gotten. Which she’s currently doing from the sidelines of the dance floor as Y/N is dancing around with Sammy, Harry and a few others now a few hours into the party. Y/N chuckles, the few tequila drinks making her feel a bit giggly, as she throws her head back and sways to the music. Harry’s watching her, admiring how carefree she looks as she dances to the music. Not an ounce of worry of any judgement from her coworkers around her.

“Y/N,” a colleague of hers comes up, putting a hand on her arm to get her full attention. She smiles as she meets her eyes. “Merry Christmas love, I’m going to head out with my husband, who very much loves your new boyfriend by the way,” she explains, mirroring Y/N’s smile. Harry is distracted, dancing with Sammy, and thankfully doesn’t hear her comment.

“Oh! He’s not my boyfriend,” she informs her, for probably the third time tonight. But her older colleague, Heidi, is rather forgetful when she has a few glasses on wine - something she’d learnt over the few years of working together. “Also, I have a present for you, just wait here and I’ll go get it and be right back I promise,” Y/N assures her, giving her a pout for good measure.

Heidi sighs but is still smiling, “fine, I’ll wait,” she nods.

Y/N is walking passed Harry, causing him to pinch his brows together and reach out for her. Through the night they didn’t leave each other's side, even when one of them had to use the washroom they let each other know. His hand is gentle, grasping onto her arm as she’s about to walk away, and pulling her to look his way. Y/N matches his look of confusion but smiles at the little pout on Harry’s lips at the sight of her leaving the dance floor without him.

“Where are you going?” He asks, bending his head down closer to her. His breath is warm against the skin, his lips mere inches from her ear. A chill falls over her as she looks back into his enchanting eyes.

“Upstairs, I need to grab something,” she states.

“Oh,” Harry pauses, “okay,” he says, still looking into her eyes. They were so beautiful, she’s so beautiful.

“Did you want to come with me?” Y/N asks. She doesn’t know why she does, maybe because she doesn’t want to leave Harry’s side for a single second or maybe her buzz from the tequila is making her brave. She imagines some alone time with Harry for the first time tonight would be nice.

Harry nods and slowly lets his hand drop from her arm to her hand. Their fingers intertwining like it's natural, ignoring the wide eyed look from Sammy, and Y/N leads the way out of the room and into the lobby. Harry thinks she’ll drop his hand once they reach the elevator but she doesn’t. It’s like a volcano of butterflies has erupted in his stomach. Feeling bold, he brushes the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand a few times as he inhales her sweet smelling perfume as she stands so close to him while waiting for the elevator doors to open.

Every moment they’ve had together tonight has been amazing, the same longing looks and full smiles between them but were always surrounded by others. Seems Y/N is rather popular at her place of work, everyone wants to hang around her and he’s been introduced to more people than he can count. Although Y/N did whisper in his ear “Sammy and Amanda are the only ones you really need to remember”, thankfully. But he really is having a good time as they enjoyed a quick meal at the beginning of the night, talking amongst the people at their table, then when that was finished up the wine was replaced with harder alcohol and things got pretty wild. Turns out these New Year City fashion obsessed people knew how to party and it wasn’t all gossip and trends with them. Harry was finding himself laughing, dancing and feeling more free than he had in quite a while. And maybe the tequila drinks he’s been sipping was helping, as he actually ended up liking Y/N’s drink of choice.

“Everyone loves you,” Y/N states, breaking the silence just as the elevator opens and they step inside. Harry smirks and lets her step up to hit the button inside, using her free hand as they still are holding each other. Their hands hang in the air as she steps forward, hitting the button, and then steps back to be right beside him.

“Glad my charm could be of use to impress your coworkers,” Harry says, making Y/N smile but rolls her eyes as she squeezes his hand that still holds her. They’re holding hands! Don’t freak out! Y/N is internally screaming at herself.

“Cheeky,” Y/N teases, using his word back at him finally. Although all those times he’s texted her ‘cheeky’ or ‘cheeky girl’ she does get butterflies in her stomach.

“Oh really?” Harry questions, huffing out a chuckle while raising his eyebrows.

Y/N laughs and Harry pulls on her hand that he’s holding to bring her even closer to him. Their sides touch, her bare arm brushing against the suit jacket, and she swore a spark of electricity shot through them as they were now leaning against one another. She looks from their feet, toe to toe, to how her bent knee just barely strokes against his pants, then looking at their conjoint hands - Harry still rubbing his thumb against her warm skin every once in a while - all the way up to meet Harry’s eyes. His face is so close, only a few inches away from hers. Y/N’s breath gets caught in her throat, her lips parting as she inhales slowly while looking into Harry’s eyes. Are they about to kiss? Both Harry and Y/N’s thoughts are swarming with the idea of their lips pressing together and sharing their first kiss right here, right now in this elevator-

A sudden ding! causes them to blink out of whatever trance they were in. Y/N turns her head to watch the doors open onto her office floor, only a few dim lights are kept on during the night hours so it looks a bit different than during the day. Harry’s only watching her though. Taking in every inch of her lips. The curve of her cupids bow, the pout of her bottom lip. How good the red lipstick still looks even hours later since their night has gone on. Oh how he wants to mess up that red colour, smearing it with his own lips, he’s in his head with many thoughts as Y/N tugs on his hand to bring them out of the elevator and into the main area of the office.

She has to let go of Harry’s hand to enter in the code to the main doors for their office that are frosted glass, beside the large desk that their secretary answers calls and logs in clients entering for any appointments. The sleek look from the large frosted glass doors and all white marble flooring and white desk compliments the big block letters of their company name that have neon lights behind it. Currently the colours were red and green, glowing with full holiday cheer as Y/N loved so much.

Harry’s watching Y/N, her slight sway to her body as she pushes open the door and holds it open for Harry to walk through. He nods and smiles, then let's Y/N lead the way. While her office floor is all very exciting and professional, he’s more focused on Y/N. She’s talking about how she had bought some gifts for her coworkers and got so busy today she forgot a few. Harry was in awe of her and how she managed to pull off the relocation of this party so quickly. Amanda and many others were praising her all night, which Y/N would only respond by shaking her head and brushing off their kind words. He admires that about her a lot, how she is confident but doesn’t let people’s praises go to her head by any means.

As Y/N is walking across the room to her desk, something catches Harry’s eye. He pauses, double checks that Y/N isn’t watching him, and then leans over to the bulletin board at some random desk. With one swift movement he rips it off and then quickly stuffs it into the pocket of his jacket before he turns around to find Y/N at what he assumes is her desk. It’s a large white desk, up against the floor to ceiling windows, it’s quite the view - but, again, his eyes are only on her.

“Okay, so this one’s for Heidi, and then this one is for her and her husband,” Y/N is rambling aloud as she reaches under her desk for the few last presents she had. The only other one was for Sammy, so she should bring it down with her too to catch him before either of them leaves.

She stands up straight again, putting the presents on the desk when she looks over her shoulder at Harry. He’s staring, which isn’t new, but it still makes her smile and her head to spin knowing that his eyes always seem to be on her. But it’s the mischievous smile across his lips that brings Y/N to a stop, pinching her eyebrows together as she tilts her head to the side.

“What’s with the look?” Y/N asks, getting right to the point.

Harry raises a brow and jokingly says, “what look?”

Y/N just rolls her eyes and hums, pushing her hair over one shoulder as she turns her body towards Harry. She crosses her arms over her chest and Y/N doesn’t miss how his eyes drop to her movements for a split second before meeting her eyes again. She feels like she’s on fire under his stare, the burn so deep within her only blazing when he licks his lips. This is it, this is the moment, Harry thinks before he can second guess himself. He takes a step forward, standing so close to Y/N that the toes of their shoes touch and she has to look up into his piercing stare now.

Y/N notices him reach into his pocket, and then just as quickly, he takes his hand out and holds it above them. She furrows her brows, looking up to see something green between his fingers. Her heart stops, her breath getting caught in her throat as she inspects the item more. But when Harry clears his throat, her attention falls back into him. His beautiful green eyes look a bit nervous, it’s adorable, Y/N thinks.

“Can I kiss you underneath the mistletoe, Y/N?” Harry asks, his voice in that now familiar and warm low tone.

Y/N is pretty sure Harry can hear her heart beating out of her chest right now. She stares back into his eyes, feelings for this man hitting her like a wrecking ball. Y/N has never felt something so strong for someone before. And Harry standing here, holding mistletoe, asking to kiss her, it by far one of the most romantic things ever. Unsure she can find her voice, Y/N settles with nodding her head twice and never letting her eyes fall off Harry’s. His lips turn ever so slightly upwards, smiling, before he takes a deep breath and leans forward and both their eyes flutter shut as the moment they both have dreamt of is becoming a reality.

When their lips finally touch it feels like time itself stops around them. Like no one else or nothing else matters in the world but them in this moment right here. Y/N’s heart hasn’t settled one bit, and her knees feel weak as Harry’s free hand gently touches her hip to steady them both. She tries to ignore the touch and instead focus on how soft his lips feel against hers. The feeling flares the burn she feels around him and only amplifies at how addicting his kiss is.

But it was clear, Y/N and Harry both could never dream up a kiss was perfect as this one. Harry’s pure raw emotion that he feels as he decides to pull back from the kiss, to look at Y/N with his eyes only half open, he just had to make sure he wasn’t imagining any of this. But she’s just as beautiful with her swollen lips and half open dreamy eyes as he had thought.

This time Y/N pulls Harry down by wrapping both arms around his shoulders, nudging his head down to meet her halfway and get lost in their kissing again. Harry now is clenching the plastic mistletoe in one hand while both his hands curl up at her hips. With every second, every smell of her rose perfume filling his nose, he’s sure he’ll wake from this dream at any time. The twisting in both their stomachs don’t settle as the kiss continues, Y/N’s lips parting slightly as she breathes out a small gasp when they both pull each other even closer.

Their bodies are basically molding into one, Y/N’s hair falling into their face as she tugs him even closer if it’s possible. But Harry quickly reacts and brings the hand without the mistletoe up, carding his fingers through her locks and bringing the hair away from their moving lips before he rests his hand on her cheek. The only reason that they both pull apart the second time is because they need air - both their chests are heaving against one another as they struggle to catch their breath.

Y/N could never describe the sensations she was feeling in the fleeting second after their kiss. She opens her eyes, looking at Harry’s chest as it rises and falls in quick motions, before she slowly raises her gaze. There’s a pit in her stomach, feeling a bit nervous to meet his eyes after such a passionate kiss. So she takes her time, her eyes scanning over Harry’s face. His sharp jaw, clenching as he watches her. She smiles at the sight of her red lipstick just faintly smudging against his own lips. Finally, she lifts her eyes and meets his stare.

“Amazing,” Harry breathes out, his breath fanning over her lips.

“Breathtaking, actually,” Y/N corrects him, lifting her lips into a bit of a cheeky smile. Harry huffs out a chuckle and smiles, squeezing her side as he lets his hand drop from her face. He seems like he might step away, but Y/N doesn’t want their little bubble to burst quite yet. So she pouts and rubs her thumb over the side of his neck slowly. “Kiss me again, please,” she says in a soft voice.

“Always, darling,” Harry tells her and brings both his hands up to cup her face, tilting her head back just slightly in order to place his lips over hers again. Their kiss only last for another moment before Y/N gets a sudden prick to her cheek, causing her to break away and furrow her brows.

“What the-?” Y/N pauses as she takes Harry's hand and uses her fingers to pry back his own. A giggle passes her lips as the sight inside his hand. She takes the plastic green leaves and red berries. Rolling her lips into her mouth, she tries to hold back the laughter bubbling inside of her.

“What?” Harry questions, letting Y/N take the mistletoe out of his hand.

“Harry,” she sighs and looks up at him, “this is holly, not mistletoe,” she explains. It’s a common misconception, truly, but it only makes the moment they just had all that more special.

Harry’s cheeks heat up instantly at her words. Pure embarrassment washing over him as he didn’t even realize his mistake. His whole big romantic gesture now in the ruins because they kissed underneath holly not mistletoe. Harry shakes his head and reaches for the holly in Y/N’s hand, but she moves faster and closes her hand around it - not caring that it pokes her palm. He is the one to pull together his eyebrows now, meeting her eyes.

“No, it’s okay,” she admits to him, placing the holly carefully on her desk without looking away from Harry’s eyes. “I don’t care that you made a common mistake, don’t beat yourself up about it,” she says, bringing her free hand to brush against his warm red cheeks. “It was-” she pauses and lets out a deep breath, “you’re perfect, H,” she says.

“No, you are,” he declares, meeting her halfway again to crash their lips together once more.

thanks for reading, please reblog/leave some feedback if you enjoyed it! until part 5 😘

*like this post if you’d like to be added to the cstsyl taglist!*

[insomiaismygame]

🎉Congratulations for your 100 followers!🎉 Here are some flowers for you 💐. I... uhm... wanted to request something for the event. May I please get a nsfw Colt Grice x reader? Like, maybe the reader is a nurse or a warrior candidate and the two are close. And Colt has feelings for her and they both confess and it ends in a really fluffy smut ☺️. Thank you so much!

NSFW Colt Grice x Nurse!Fem! Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+

Gunfire and explosions echoed in the background as you run around the medical tent. Soldiers wailed in pain on flimsy cots; your colleagues ran around to tend to them. You were applying pressure to a soldier's leg when you saw Colt enter the tent. His once pristine uniform was covered in dirt and mud. His brother Falco, not too far behind him. Colt scanned the tent for you; eyes lighting up when they meet yours. Colt makes his way towards you, dragging Falco with him.

The soldier thrashed underneath you, muttering all kinds of curses. He slapped your hand away and shoved you to the ground. You rushed back up, trying to reapply pressure onto his leg, lest he bleeds out. The soldier continues to flail violently until a pair of hands pin down his shoulders. You look up to see Colt - eyebrows furrowed and teeth clenched. Falco comes up behind you, medical kit in hand, and sets it up.

“Look at your little assistant, all ready to go, ” Colt chuckles. The gleam in his hazel hues making you blush a little.

You always found your friend to be quite handsome. His light brown hair, almost golden in the sun, matched his eyes. The soft contours of his cheeks and nose made him look angelic. His kind and selfless nature only adding on to his ethereal aura. He brought you comfort in ways no one else could. He was your best friend, but you always hoped that someday he'd be your lover instead.

Falco tapped your arm, bringing you out of your thoughts. He held up a needle filled with anesthetic - you checked the dosage. You gave him an approving nod before injecting the soldier. You and Colt felt the soldier relax, both of you sighing in relief. You released your hands from his leg, gently peeling the gauze off it. Once you observed there was no bleeding Falco handed you a needle. You smiled down at him, thanking him and his brother for the help.

“What brings you both the to the tent?” You ask while you stitch up the soldier.

“Well, I wanted you to take a look at Falco's head, ” Colt scratched the back of his neck.

You turn to Falco, taking note of the bandages around his head. Having only taken notice now, you felt a pang of guilt. You should've never let the young boy help you. You carefully picked up Falco and placed him on an empty cot in the corner of the tent. Colt trailed behind you with the medical kit his brother had prepared. You quickly washed and gloved your hands. Gently, you unwrapped his head, tossing the dirty bandages on the cot.

Colt watched as you examined his brother. Your hands lightly cleaned the wound, brows creased in concentration. Locks of hair fell out from your cap and stuck to your face. Your nurse gown is covered in blood, sweat, and dirt. Disheveled yet persistent thought Colt as he took in your form. Admiring your grace and beauty while you patched up his brother. From the moment he first saw you he thought you were incredibly gorgeous. He would often visit you after a battle or help you carry supplies. You two grew close and he can't imagine a life without you. How he wished he could take you away from this war. Proclaim his love for you and enjoy life to the fullest. You called out to Colt, dragging him from his thoughts.

You told him Falco has a minor head injury but other than that he's fine. His features softened at the news giving you a small grin. You flashed him back the same grin and walked to your other patients.

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

The train ride back to Marley was rather joyous this time around. The sounds of soldiers' cheers and laughter could be heard two cars down. You were lying in the nurse's car, alone, everyone celebrating in the soldiers' car. You tried to finalize some documents but your mind kept wandering. Your thoughts converging on one thing, one person; Colt. You were so glad that he and his brother were safe. But you couldn't help but think about the day when that wouldn't be the case. When you wouldn't see those golden eyes look down at you. When you wouldn't see that adorable grin. The thought made your heart clench because today that was almost a reality.

You hated this war. Hated how it took everything from you, from them. You wish things were different.

The door to your car opened and you lift your head to see who it is. Your heart flutters when you see a familiar head of light brown hair. Colt stood in the doorway; a plate of food in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other. You sat up against the wall, beckoning him to come to sit with a pat. The bed dipped a little and he handed you the plate of food. The meat, bread, and potatoes steaming hot. He pulled out two forks from his pocket, handing one to you. Your fingers linger on his as you take the utensil. A tiny blush forms on his cheeks at the contact. You noticed this and felt a light giggle escape your lips.

“Have you been drinking? Your face is a little red, ” you chuckled.

“No, not yet, I was hoping we could drink together, ” Colt responded. Holding up the bottle of wine in his other hand.

“Dinner and wine? This almost feels like a date.”

You teased, grabbing the bottle from him. Reading the label while Colt moves a potato with his fork - an austere look in his eyes.

“Would it be bad if it was?”

You looked at him, observing how the blush spread to his ears. His hazel hues still carrying that same look but they also yearned for something. For you. You felt a blush form on your face at the realization.

“No. No, it wouldn't, ” you muttered. Casting your gaze down to the plate of food before you. You felt a hunger grow inside you, not for the food but him.

Silence fell between the both of you. He fiddled with the food and you with the bottle. You set the bottle on a small table at the edge of the bed. With your fork, you stab a piece of meat and shove it in your mouth. The kitchen closed hours ago - Colt made this himself. The thought made your eyes swell with fresh tears. The two of you devoured the plate of food in silence. Throwing small glances and smiles at each other between bites.

After you two had cleaned the plate you set it next to the wine. You turned to Colt and placed your hands on his face. Stroking his cheekbones with your thumbs while he closed his eyes. Bringing his hands up to cup yours, sighing at the contact.

“Colt?”

He hummed in response, opening his eyes to look at you. In them, all you could see was love and adoration. The same feelings that were reflected in your own. You leaned in and brushed your lips softly, hesitantly, against his. As you pulled away he brought your hands to his lips and peppered them with kisses.

“I've wanted to do that for so long, ” you admitted; his eyes meeting yours. A deep blush present on both of your faces.

“Same here. I've wanted to be with you for so long. I love you.”

You collided your lips with him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Melding and twisting your lips with his as he pulled you closer. You broke the kiss, panting when looked into his eyes.

“I love you too.”

Colt connected his lips with yours, brushing his tongue over your bottom lip. You opened for him letting his tongue swipe against yours. He laid you down on the bed, running his hands up your sides. Pinching the hem of your shirt between his fingers. He looked at you for approval, to which you nodded. Colt tugged your shirt up and you lifted your arms. He tossed the shirt aside and paused to admire you. The way your breasts rose and fell as you breathed mesmerized him.

“You're so beautiful.”

He said before he caresses your breasts in his hands. Bringing his mouth down to kiss and suck on the tender skin. The touch drove a shiver down your spine all while leaving you craving more. He latched his mouth on one of your nipples, tweaking the other with his fingers. His other hand was working on the buttons of his shirt. Yours we're working on the buttons of your skirt.

More articles of clothing were tossed to the side between fervent kisses. Nothing was left on either of you as you passionately kissed. Colt dragged a hand down your chest and stomach, stopping at your heat. He strokes your wet folds drawing a moan from your lips. He flicks your clit with his thumb; trailing his kisses down your neck and chest. Leaving marks in his wake while he continued to rub your folds. You were a moaning mess underneath him and if filled him with pride. He dreamed of the day when he could have you like this. He just didn't think it'd happen so soon. He propped himself up and looked down at you.

“Are you sure you want to do this? We can stop right here.”

You looked up at him with wide eyes and brought him back down for another kiss.

“Please don't stop.”

You begged between shallow breathes, making him smile. Colt pushed two fingers in and pumped them slowly. Twisting and curling them until he found your G-spot. You wrapped your legs around him while he continued his assault on it. His lips muffled your moans and cries. He felt your thighs tremble at his sides and picked up the pace. Abusing the spongy mass till he felt you release on his hand.

The look of you beneath him was a stunning sight. Your eyes clouded by lust and euphoria with a deep blush across your cheeks. Your chest heaving in the aftershocks of your orgasm. That sight alone is enough to make him cum. But he wanted to be inside you, feel you around him.

He took his hand covered in your slick and gave his length a couple of pumps. Colt positioned himself in front of your entrance, giving you a few kisses. He brushed his tip against your folds before slowly pushing in. You both gasped at the feeling, your walls clenched around him. He moaned at the feeling and pumped into you slowly. His grunts mingled with your moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin. Colt increased his pace, throwing your legs over his shoulders. The new position allowing him to shove deeper and harder into you.

“Co-colt it-its so good, ” you exclaimed between strangled moans.

“You-you feel amazing baby. Wa-want you to-to come on my cock.”

He grunted and continued to thrust into you at a bruising pace. Angling himself to hit that spongy spot in you once more. Abusing it while you cried out below him. You clawed at his back, feeling your walls clench around him. Colt groaned; his pace becoming erratic as his release neared. The knot in your stomach threatening to unravel as well.

Colt pumped into you a few more times before he felt his release wash over him. You came with him, the feeling of your releases overwhelming. A guttural moan escaped your lips, tears pricking at your eyes. He slowly thrust into you, easing you through your orgasm. Lowering his head to kiss the tears at your eyes before slipping out of you. Colt collapsed right next to, stroking your face, admiring you in the afterglow. He couldn't believe that you were his now and that he was yours. He knew moments like this were temporary, so he decided to savor it.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Colt.”

Shit, I'm super late with this one!! I've had to work extra hours at work because we're currently understaffed. I'm so fucking tired. But I'm glad I got to finish this story!! I might be doing headcanons for a while with all the work I have.

TAGS: @pockyfairy

GIF IS NOT MINE ALL CREDIT GOES TO ITS ORIGINAL CREATOR.

[baoshan-sanren]

Chapter 29

of the wwx emperor au I’m thinking of calling Lan QiRen’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week oh god it’s only gonna get worse

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Part 1 | Chapter 8 Part 2 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 Part 1 | Chapter 15 Part 2 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 Part 1 | Chapter 22 Part 2 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28

Wei Ying has watched the lanterns on every fifth night of his birthday festival for as long as he can remember.

His earliest memories are pale and indistinct, a collection of images and sounds, slithering through his fingers even as his grip tightens. The cold rooftop tiles under his hands, being lifted up onto his father’s shoulders, his mother’s delighted laughter. The Empress of the Shan Empire, a cool and dignified statue in the daylight hours, dancing over the moonlit roof peaks in her bare feet. Falling asleep in her lap while the lanterns drifted above, the soft murmur of his parents’ voices lulling him into sweet dreams.  

Eighteen years, and eighteen lantern festivals, but most of those he remembers clearly are filled with an ache of loss. He has often cursed his unreliable childhood memories, lamenting the cruelty of recollections that deny him access to those early years. Guilt usually follows after, as relentless as the passing of time. He has never had a cause to feel abandoned; not one festival has gone by where he was allowed to sink into despondency and isolation. Even on those years when copious amounts of wine were needed, his brothers had always been by his side, prepared to chase away the loneliness by any means necessary. Without Nie HuaiSang and Jiang Cheng, Wei Ying is certain that he would have grown twisted and warped by the loss, forever attempting to lean into the warmth that no longer existed. All that he is, and will still become, he owes to them. To shijie, to Wen Qing, to Wen Ning and A-Yuan.

But the easy, uncomplicated joy of watching the lights dance across the sky, that had gone away on his twelfth birthday. He had been convinced that it would never return. Not because of the loss, or the accompanying ache which had, over time, grown dull and heavy instead of sharp and bright, but because he believed it impossible, to feel a child’s joy once having reached adulthood.

There are many things he believed to be impossible before meeting Lan Zhan.

The outskirts of YiLing are sparsely populated to the east, a few sprawling farms and long pasture fields stretching between the town and the river. They have a small hill to themselves; the ground is still warm from the sun, the air saturated with the syrupy scent of the late autumn harvest, the fireflies rivaling the lanterns with their lights. They can hear the sounds of celebration from YiLing, but the noise is far away and muffled, barely penetrating the comfortable cocoon of silence between them.

Wei Ying’s little finger is hooked around Lan Zhan’s.

They are lying down, eyes locked on the sky. Wei Ying is sure that he will have grass and dirt in his hair, and probably a liberal smear of both on his robes. He is also sure that Lan Zhan’s hair and robes will be as pristine as they were before he cautiously stretched himself out by Wei Ying’s side.

Their shoulders are almost close enough to touch. Lan Zhan’s hand had trembled once, then settled into stillness. Wei Ying can hear him breathe, the rhythm slow and even. He thinks, if he were only to shift a little closer, if the din of YiLing were to fall quiet, perhaps he could hear Lan Zhan’s heart beating as well, and discern if it flutters as restlessly as his own.  

The touch is small and insignificant. Wei Ying has already held Lan Zhan’s hand in his own, had tangled their fingers together, had felt the warmth of his palm. But it does not feel small. The contact overshadows the lights above; a bright, single point of happiness that Wei Ying would give anything to keep.

“Lan Zhan,” he says.

“Mhm.”

Wei Ying bites his tongue.

It is not the lack of words that gives him pause. He possesses a river of words that relentlessly rushes whichever way it pleases, paying no mind to his intentions or wishes. He has had to learn how to dam this river; the Emperor must always take care of how he speaks, least he means to start a war with an offhand remark. But Lan Zhan is not a an overbearing sect leader, or a supplicant asking for favors. Nothing Wei Ying wants to say can ever be simple, because complexity is rooted in his birth, his status, his entire existence.

And yet.

What can be more simple than a feeling of emptiness finally filled, a sense of completeness, of irrevocable rightness?

Lan Zhan turns his head to look at him. There is a firefly hovering over his temple, a tiny burst of light traveling across a flawless cheek. In the gloom, his eyelashes seem thicker, his eyes black, their depth an endless abyss.

Wei Ying wants to look at him forever.    

“Lan Zhan, I really like you.”

The dark eyes widen, then immediately return to their study of the sky. Wei Ying watches his throat move, a heavy swallow that could mean anything at all. He cannot tell if there are words building behind the movement, and despite the obvious surprise in his gaze, as brief as it was, Lan Zhan’s expression has not changed.  

No, Wei Ying is wrong. It has changed.

There is a faint tremble to his eyelashes. The tips of his ears appear slightly darker. His throat moves again, but his mouth does not.

His little finger is still hooked around Wei Ying’s. It has not pulled away.

There is an entire language being spoken in front of Wei Ying’s eyes, but it is a language he does not yet understand. It is frustrating and painful to think, that he may never have an opportunity to learn, that Lan Zhan may not want him to know.

His future stretches in front of him, a lone seat on top of a dais, as decades endlessly melt into one another, seasons coming and going, favors given and taken away, a continuous tedium of birthdays, and festivals, and sect leader meetings. Lan Zhan nothing more than a cool and collected face, glimpsed twice a year among the sea of others, forever remaining a half-met stranger.

It is unbearable.

“Lan Zhan--“

“You are the Emperor,” Lan Zhan says, his voice stiff.

“Yes, but--“

“Young Master Lan!”

Startled, they both jerk upright, reaching for their swords.

“There you are,” an annoyed voice comes from the bottom of the hill, “if not for the Lan Sect funeral robes, I would have passed by this hill a dozen times.”

Wei Ying cannot make out the small shape climbing closer to them, but he recognizes the voice easily.

Lan Zhan has already gotten to his feet and moved back, placing himself a respectable distance away. Wei Ying was right. His hair and robes are as immaculate as they were before. Wei Ying, on the other hand, is pretty sure that he has grass sticking to his entire back.

“Why is it always you?” he snaps at the small disciple.

The boy, now close enough where he does not need to shout, offers him a sloppy bow and a disgruntled greeting.

“Your Majesty.”

“Your Majesty, Your Majesty” Wei Ying grumbles, “not two days ago you tried to bite me. I should have you tossed in the dungeons.”

“If it pleases Your Majesty,” the boy says, “this one would rather spend the night in the dungeon than traipsing through the YiLing countryside. Sect Leader Nie asks Your Majesty to meet him at the Lan Sect camp. There has been a development.”

“The Lan Sect camp?” he glances at Lan Zhan, but this time, the other boy’s face is truly unreadable.

“What is a Lan Sect camp? What development?”

“This one does not know,” the disciple says with exaggerated patience, “but if Your Majesty were to go there, I am sure it will all be made clear.”

Wei Ying ignores him.

“Lan Zhan, what is he talking about? What camp?”

Lan Zhan is silent for a few moments before he speaks, “The Lan Sect escort. The disciples that accompanied us to YiLing. There are no accommodations to be had in the town itself, so they have made camp on the outskirts.”

“Why?” Wei Ying asks, feeling bewildered, “all the other disciples are in the Immortal Mountain City. Why would you leave yours in YiLing?”

Lan Zhan’s throat moves again, but he does not need to speak. Wei Ying understands the moment the words have left his mouth.

They were not invited.

Uncle has always been the one to send out invitations, the Jiang Sect lotus prominently placed next to the Imperial Seal, his signature replacing Wei Ying’s, who could not be bothered with such minor formalities.

Fury rises in him for the second time that night, but this one is cold and already settled, not likely to wane any time soon.

“They will be coming with us,” he says, turning to head back down the hill.

What other small formalities have been left to Jiang FengMian over the years? Many more than Wei Ying can count; if he is to begin questioning his uncle’s methods, each must be addressed, reinspected, and altered if necessary.

This will take weeks. Possibly months.

Striding ahead, wishing he could kick something, he turns to the small disciple.

“Little beast, what is your name?”

The boy grimaces, but offers a half-bow, even sloppier than the one before, “This one is Nie XuanYu.”  

“Nie XuanYu,” Wei Ying says, “You have a bad temper and a terrible attitude. Try and pay attention to the Second Young Master, and you may yet learn how a disciple is supposed to behave.”

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Recs: Holiday Fic

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 East of Eden by  WriteSprite Rated:  Explicit Words:  41,122 Tags:  Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Parseltongue, Dirty Talk, Rimming, Biting, Drinking Games Summary:  When Harry receives a dodgy brochure for an island vacation, he isn't sure he should attend. After a bit of a push, he decides to go for it and winds up spending the week in paradise. At least it would be, if it weren't for that pesky blond git. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Take My Hand by daisymondays Rated:  Explicit Words:  12814 Tags: Summer, Summer Romance, Pining, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, First Kiss, Drinking Games, Harry Potter Has Dimples, Draco Malfoy Can't Cope, Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Auror Partners, Draco Has Feels To Spare, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Meddling Friends, Touching, Soooo Much Touching, HP: EWE Summary:  Draco has long resigned himself to pining after Harry... that is until an invite on the annual Ministry holiday gives him a chance to change everything. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 December Never Felt So Wrong by MaesterChill Rated:  Explicit Words:  50001 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, Angst, Mystery, time skip, 00's Music Sung Badly, Fluff, Amnesia, A niffler, 25 Days of Draco and Harry 2018, curse magic, Knitting, Sex, Cuddles, Blow Jobs, First Time Sex, wanking, Advent Fic, Christmas, Magical Artifacts, Falling In Love, Magical Theory, drarry dads, Rimming, Memory Loss, A tiny bell, Sharing a Bed, Dad Jokes, Cursed objects Summary:  'Twas the month before Christmas and sixteen year old Draco Malfoy had never felt worse. His attempts to kill Dumbledore were failing and, as usual, Harry Fucking Potter was a constant thorn in his side. All that suddenly changed when Draco woke up 15 years in the future and discovered that not only was he allegedly shagging Harry Fucking Potter, he also had thinning hair and a five year old son, and no fucking clue how he got there. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Tell Me the End at the Beginning by harryromper Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  36591 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, St Mungo's Hospital, Healer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Hermione Granger, Christmas, Christmas Tree, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Christmas Presents, Christmas Decorations, 25 Days of Harry and Draco, Food Hall Turkeys, Advent Calendar, Healer Luna Lovegood, Kreacher, Minor Neville Longbottom/Ginny Weasley, Yule Logs, Misheard Christmas carols Summary:  St Mungo’s is the last place anyone wants to spend the festive season. Harry finds himself there anyway. Or: Harry's an Auror suspended from duty, Malfoy's wearing the hell out of three-piece suits, Hermione is entirely over everything, and Kreacher just wants to be left alone to decorate for Christmas. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Too Cold Outside (For Angels to Fly) by gracerene Rated:  Explicit Words:  62688 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Post-Hogwarts, Creature Fic, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Veela Draco Malfoy, Veela (Harry Potter), Auror Partners, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Draco Malfoy, Aurors, Case Fic, Murder Mystery, Mild Gore, Advent Calendar, Christmas, Drinking, Scotland, United Kingdom, Muggle London, POV Alternating, Coffee Shops, Past Character Death, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Dean Thomas/Ginny Weasley, Crime Fighting, Duelling, Burns, Blood and Injury, Bars and Pubs, Getting Together, Romance, Light Angst, Happy Ending, Bisexual Harry Potter, Gay Draco Malfoy, Anal Sex, Riding, Shower Sex, Hand Jobs, 25 Days of Harry and Draco, 25 Days of Harry and Draco 2019, Switching, Wings, Wing Kink, Veela Mates, Mating Bond, Anal Fingering, Bonding, Dirty Talk Summary:  The Auror Department and the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures are working to create a new division partnering human wizards and Magical Beings in order to more effectively police crime involving any and all classifications of Magical Creature. Auror Harry Potter jumps at the chance to join the pilot programme, but he starts to regret his rashness when he discovers who he's to be partnered with: Draco Malfoy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 If the Fates Allow by Saras_Girl Rated:  Mature Words:  80957 Tags: N/A Summary:  What's that crackling in the walls? Harry has no clue at all. He'll eat some cake and drink some wine Because he is completely FINE. --A story about life's disregard for our plans. [2017 advent story] ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A New Peace by MalenkayaCherepakha Rated:  Explicit Words:  5566 Tags: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex Summary:  Of all the people Draco expected to walk into his cafe in Muggle London, Harry Potter was not one of them. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 flashback, warm nights by warmfoothills Rated:  Mature Words:  13068 Tags: Deathly Hallows AU, or more specifically, the godric’s hollow christmas shitshow of 1997, but with ron and draco!, and no snake-animated corpses!, instead:, Grand theft auto, a lot of blood, teenage fugitives, a time loop, Horcrux Hunting, one psychopathic quinquagenarian, Bodily Injuries, the ~power of love, Breaking and Entering, hospital food, questionable headwear, kissing in the backseat, kissing in the freezer aisle, Kissing in the Snow Summary:  “What’s killing me is that I actually quite fucking like Christmas, festival-for-a-personally-irrelevant-religion-turned-commercialised-garbage-holiday though it may be, and now I’m stuck in the perpetual almost-there of it all with an idiot who gets himself cut up every time no matter how differently I try and do things!” “Killing you?” Potter asks. “I thought I was the one who’s about to get my torso sliced into?” ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 All Must Draw Near by Saras_Girl Rated:  Mature Words:  61080 Tags: N/A Summary:  Harry doesn't have time for rumours; he has a shop to run. Which is just as well, really. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 With A Little Help From Hermione by naarna Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  6983 Tags: N/A Summary:  Secret Santa at Hogwarts with every House participating in the name of unity... And Hermione suddenly finds herself in the position of a matchmaker. ❤️ Read on Fanfiction.net

📜 Faint Indirections  by ignatiustrout Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  29793 Tags: University, Wizarding World of the United States of America, Americans, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Librarian Harry Potter, Harry Potter Has a Pet Snake, Parselmouth Harry Potter, College Student Draco Malfoy, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Anxious Harry Potter, Baby Gay Draco Malfoy, Bisexual Harry Potter, Friendship, Family Dinners, Halloween parties, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Romance, Misunderstandings, Internalized Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, H/D Fan Fair 2019, Secondary Theme: Book Fair Summary: Draco Malfoy is the last person Harry expects to turn up in Boston, Massachussetts. But now he's here, and he won't stop requesting books from the library where Harry works. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The 12 Dates of Draco  by Drarryismymuse (Hatchersn) Rated:  Explicit Words:  16808 Tags: 12 Days of Christmas, Light Angst, Christmas Smut, Anal Sex Summary:  Holiday dialing, desperate attempts at reconciliation, and 12 blind dates with Draco Malfoy... oh my! OR The day Harry just can't seem to get past. But what is the universe trying to tell him? And when did Draco Malfoy get so bloody fit? He's got 12 days to figure it out. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Christmas Is For Sex (and Love), So Give It To Me by GoldenTruth813 Rated:  Explicit Words:  53218 Tags: PWP, Established Relationship, Christmas, Bondage, misuse of frosting, making gingerbread houses, coming without touching, Blowjobs, Fingering, anal penetration, Rimming, misuse of fairy lights, Praise Kink, Nipple Clamps, erotic massages, Lingerie, Harry in Lingerie, Butt Plugs, Masterbation, Dirty Talk, Overstimulation, Topping from the Bottom, Ice Play, misuse of snowballs, misuse of brandy custard, veritasium, Public Sex, misuse of christmas candles, Wax Play, floating blow jobs, bubble baths, Candy Canes, misuse of candy canes, sex with feelings, Clubbing, naughty letters, babysitting teddy, Edging, healing past trauma, really so much more than sex, but lots of sex too, spiked hot cocoa, Drunk confessions, Anal penetration with a foreign object, french!draco, Switching Summary:  Draco buys Harry an Advent House, intent on helping Harry create all new holiday memories, and have a lot of great sex in the process. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 As it Should Be by leo_draconis Rated:  Mature Words:  5670 Tags: N/A Summary:  It's Christmas Eve, and Draco's world has just shattered around him. Will a Christmas miracle give him a second chance? ❤️ Read on LJ

📜 Dream by the Fire  by GallifreyisBurning Rated:  Mature Words:  11431 Tags: Fluff, Christmas Fluff, Non-Explicit Sex, No Angst, seriously no angst whatsoever, Getting to Know Each Other, Getting Together, Coffee Shop Owner Harry Potter, Writer Draco Malfoy, Tattooed Draco Malfoy, Magical Tattoos, Memory Magic, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Wizarding History (Harry Potter), Friends to Lovers Summary:  When Draco Malfoy resurfaces in England after eight years abroad—tattooed, pierced, and wanting to take over a corner of Harry's coffee shop to work on a writing project—Harry can't help but be intrigued. Where has he been? What is he working on? Why here? And why does he have to look so stupidly hot with all those tattoos? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The best Christmas he ever had by gnarf Rated:  Teen And Up Words:  1965 Tags: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Post-War, Fred Weasley Lives, Christmas at the Burrow (Harry Potter), Mutual Pining, Drinking, Dancing, Family Feels Summary:  Christmas had never been less appealing to him than this year. That was until Arthur Weasley showed up at his door, dressed as Santa, inviting him to the Burrow. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The One Where Ginny Keeps a Secret, Sort of  by Theartfulldodger Rated:  Teen And Up Words:  4039 Tags:  Fluff, Christmas, Established Relationship, Non-Linear Narrative, Group Vacation Summary:  Harry is determined to have a good time with Ginny and Pansy for a trip to NYC over the winter holidays, even if Draco can't join them. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Adventures in Truth and Texting by fluxweed Rated:  Explicit Words:  7981 Tags: Texting, Drunk Texting, Sexting, Veritaserum, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Auror Harry Potter, Drinking, Christmas, Advent Fic, Awkwardness, everyone has phones, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE Summary:  Former Death Eaters are being targeted with a Veritaserum curse – it’s permanent, and makes victims speak aloud their every thought. Luckily, it’s easier to control when writing – and Hermione is trying to introduce Muggle technology to the wizarding world. An advent fic featuring texting, identity struggles, and a Draco Malfoy who will literally not stop talking. ❤️ Read on AO3

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Star-Crossed: Bound by Blood

Chapter Three

Master List / Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

Warnings: Canon divergent during Chapter 13 of The Mandalorian, serious pining

A/N: I make this stuff up as I go along, if I screw something Star Wars-y up, apologies in advance, I didn’t do it on purpose, but I’m new to this Fandom. I will be cross posting this story between AO3 and Tumblr except the smutty bits. Those chapters will only be available to registered users on AO3. (I’m trying something new for people who want to read here on Tumblr, but to also avoid the smut for minors controversy. We’ll see how it goes.)

*I do not have a tag list* Please follow the story on AO3 if you want email updates, or follow @tilltheendwilliwrite-library where I post the new/latest chapters of all my stories.

***

The trip to Nevarro was hell. 

The Razor Crest now smelled like Baast, and after using his soap, their two scents had blended, and Din was going out of his kriffing mind. He'd taken to sleeping in the cockpit, having given up his cot, but it did little good. 

It was like the essence of her had invaded every part of his home.

He'd started having dreams. Dreams of a world with sand dunes and plains of long grass, where towering forests of old wood grew and swayed in gentle, fragrant breezes. He dreamed of walking the rock and sand trails of jagged mountains, of climbing steep cliffs to drink from sweet falls that appeared out of the clouds.

And when he reached his destination, a rocky outcropping high above the world, a cat leapt over the rocks to land before him. She was sleek lines and dense muscle, her coat tawny, darkening to black over her muzzle and legs. Long tufts of fur drifted in the wind from the tips of her ears, and green eyes watched him with a thousand years of ancient wisdom.

He knelt before the regal creature and pulled off his helmet. She padded closer, circled him once, sniffed him curiously, and began to purr. The rumble soothed his soul, and Din closed his eyes as her sleek, furry cheek rubbed against his.

"Mine," he whispered as he reached for her, waking himself from the dream every time.

By the time they landed on Nevarro, he was desperate for air that didn't smell like Baast. A few more parsecs, he may have done something stupid.

He met her at the gangway with a heavy cloak. "Put this on, draw the hood, and try to remain inconspicuous."

She arched a brow before handing over Grogu. The kid stuck to her like glue, eager to be at her side whenever he was awake. It was a relief to know someone else was watching him, but at the same time, he missed the kid's continual company.

Baast shrugged into the cloak and pulled the hood over her hair before laying her hand on his arm. "Are you well?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You have been distant."

"Just busy." He held out a silver bar roughly three inches long. "Extendable staff, at least until the Alor can get you those sabres."

She smiled at him, the light just catching her fangs. "Thank you, Mando."

He tilted his head but tugged the hood farther forward. "Let's go."

They'd landed well after dusk, assuring a quiet, uninterrupted trip through the streets. Those that lingered paid them no mind used to seeing the silver beskar of an unpainted Mandalorian.

The bar was fairing better after the fight with Moff Gideon. Walls had been repaired, and the damage painted over. 

He walked in and headed straight for the back booth, ignoring the eyes that followed. They knew better than to mess with him, and the music stayed lively.

Karga, however, wasn't alone.

"Karga. Dune," he stated, tossing three pucks on the table. 

"Only three, Mando? I sent you out with four," Karga teased. "Did a quarry finally escape the famed Mandalorian?"

"She's dead; body recovery was impossible."

He watched Cara's eyes flick to Baast and down to Grogu, a smile growing as she pushed from the table. "There's the little womp rat!"

Grogu squealed his happiness, but Baast growled.

The low sound set his hair on end, causing Din to step back, between the woman and his clan. "Cara, not now," he said, no explanation, not sure he had one to give. 

Baast placed her hand on the back of his neck, a place without beskar but covered by his cowl. Still, he felt it like a live wire jolt.

"Usenye!" Baast growled.

"Udesii," Din murmured, turning just enough to know he meant Baast.

"Whoa, someone's touchy," Cara muttered.

Mando didn't need this right now. The longer he stayed here, the more twitchy he felt, like something beneath his skin was itching to claw its way free. "Karga. If they ask, you tell them she's dead."

The man stared at him a long moment, assessing, processing before he gave a short nod. "I will log the information myself." He reached into his pocket and pulled out an ingot of beskar. "For your trouble and the three on your ship."

"Where did you get that?" Din asked, picking up the ingot.

"Took it off some Imps after that last clean up." A second pile of credits, smaller than it should be, landed next. "Consider us even."

"Done," he agreed, hyper-aware of Baast's hand still light against his neck.

"And congratulations, Mando. It isn't every day a Mandalorian takes a riduur."

He felt Baast's fingers twitch but didn't correct Karga's assumption.

"You got married!" Cara gasped, loud enough to cause the bar to pause and look their way. 

One long stare over his shoulder had them minding their business again. 

"Baast'mal. Cara Dune, former shock trooper, now Marshal for the New Republic. Greef Karga, head of the Bounty Hunters Guild, and Magistrate of Nevarro."

"A pleasure," Karga grinned. "Is it true wives put off their armour when they decide to have little warriors?"

Baast snorted. "Di'kutla. Anade knows gar ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya."

Din couldn't help but chuckle. "She says, foolish. Everyone knows you train your sons to be strong, but your daughters to be stronger. My woman is all warrior."

The words slipped out, and he couldn't bite them back. Baast's hand dropped from his nape, but only to lower and slide in at his waist, sneak past layers of beskar and again find flesh barely covered. She pressed closer, a low rumble vibrating between them, and Din felt approval wash from her like a wave.

"Ibic taap, Ni cuy' bat Kyr'nakil," she murmured, low enough only Din heard, informing him she didn't like it there.

He looked down at her, into the deep shadows of her hood as she clutched Grogu to her and found her eyes. This place had her on edge. With her Force sensitivity, he believed her, but he wanted to know why. "Tion'jor?"

"Too many bad feelings," she whispered. "There are hunters, many of them."

He gave a small tilt of his head. "Vaabir val olaror par gar?" he asked, wondering if they came for her.

A slight negative shake. "For news of the child."

Din was instantly enraged and leaned over the table toward Karga. "You're taking a bounty on the kid again?"

"What? No! Of course not!" the man cried in outrage.

"Mando." Cara laid her hand over his. "He hasn't, I swear."

Baast growled, causing Din to move his hand out from under Cara’s and block Baast in the same action. "There are hunters here for news of the kid. Get your cargo off my ship so we can leave." He swiped the credits off the table and turned to go, Karga already barking orders.

Din wasn't surprised when Baast's fingers snuck to the crook of his elbow. Or, he wasn't as surprised as he should be. A riduur walked where her mate could protect them and any children they might have. Her position kept her secure against him while hiding them behind a wall of beskar and weapons, handled by a highly dangerous predator.

"Mando, wait," Cara said, blocking their path. "Come to my place. You can rest, eat, and I can see the kid. I missed him."

Baast's fingers twitched. 

"Cara," he hesitated.

"Please. We're friends. Let a friend toast your good fortune."

Another low warning growl rippled from Baast when Cara touched his arm.

"She has nayc staabi!" Baast snarled.

Din looked down at her. "Technically, neither do you."

Her hand snapped off his arm like he'd burned her, shock and disappointment so profound it hurt, hit him like a rampaging mudhorn. 

She took a step in retreat, Grogu clinging to her, the kid looking just as devastated. 

What had he done? Kriff! Why would he say that?

"Baast!" he shouted but was too late as she spun on her heel and raced from the cantina. "Kriff!" he bellowed and gave chase, Cara hot on his heels.

"What the hell was that, Mando?" Dune demanded as they slammed through the doors only to find a deserted street. 

"Not your concern."

"Mando!" She grabbed him by the vambrace. She had no way of knowing how close he came to putting her through the wall. "What's really going on? Who is she?"

"You wouldn't understand. It's a Mandalorian thing." He shook her off and looked for Baast's tracks. 

It didn't surprise him at all when they went up a wall and over the roof.

Din took off after her, climbing as if his armour weighed nothing, leaving Cara behind to curse and swear. He followed long strides for some distance as she ran across roofs, finally leaving the residential district to head into a more industrial area. 

Again her tracks went up, and he followed, climbing the narrow ladder to the top of a tower that looked out over Nevarro. He found her there; knees pulled to her chest, the hood thrown back, clinging to Grogu as the kid did his best to stroke the tears from her face.

"Baast." 

She jerked but didn't move. "Go away, Mandalorian."

"I can't." He went to her and knelt, intent on taking her in his arms, only to have deadly claws close around his throat. 

"You have not the right," she snarled, her eyes piercing him through the beskar.

Grogu huffed and sighed, appearing at once both annoyed and exasperated.

"Nayc staabi. No right, that's what you said about Cara."

Baast snarled. "If you want the shock trooper so badly, have her!" she snapped, pushing him back with strength, causing him to rock on his heels.

"I don't, and she doesn't want me. She would be more inclined to go for you," he chuckled.

She blinked big green eyes. "Oh…" Her hand slowly relaxed until it lay on his chest.

This time when he gathered her close, she didn't resist. "Forgive me. I said something stupid."

"But true," she sighed. "You did not dispute the claim of riduur. I knew it meant nothing but got caught up in my role. You are free to do what you wish with whomever you wish," she sighed.

Din didn't think. He didn't plan his next move. It was like instinct demanded he act, and so he did.

"Baast. Close your eyes."

She did so without hesitation or question as Din stripped off his gloves. The helmet hissed when he released it, causing her brow to twitch. Before he took it off, he wrapped his arm around her and covered her eyes with his hand.

"Din?" she whispered, her uncertainty clear. 

"Trust me," he murmured, lifting his helmet free with his other hand. They were too high up for anyone to see, and the moons had yet to rise, leaving them bathed in shadows. 

Grogu cooed and sat down a few feet away, apparently content to let the adults sort this out on their own.

Din gave him a last look before setting his helmet down and raising that hand to lightly, tenderly, stroke her face. "I don't want just anyone," he whispered, unable to deny what was written in his heart. "Just you," he sighed and lightly brushed their mouths together. 

He'd never kissed anyone before, but he wanted to kiss Baast. 

***

Din woke with a jolt and a clang of beskar as he fell out of the pilot's chair and onto the floor. 

He lay there confused and disoriented until he realized the entire thing had been a dream. 

He groaned softly enough that it didn't leave the safety of his helmet and pushed to his hands and knees before sitting back on his thighs. This trip was going to kill him. The dream had been far too real.

He picked himself off the floor and looked up to find Grogu smirking at him. "Don't start."

The kid gurgled a noise that shouldn't in any way have been cute but somehow still was.

"Hungry?" Din asked.

Grogu waddled closer, arms up.

"Of course you are. When are you not hungry?" he chuckled, picking up the kid and heading for the ladder down into the belly of his ship. 

He was just getting Grogu situated when the door to the fresher opened, revealing Baast in nothing but a towel. 

She jolted in surprise. "I did not expect… you… I…" A bright blush bloomed darkly across her cheeks. Then, she straightened, lifting her chin like a royal, firming her composure. "You have not joined us for meals as of late. I did not expect you and have washed my clothing."

His mouth was desert dry when he attempted to speak, but no words emerged, and Din was grateful for the helmet that hid his gaping mouth. He stared for too long before stepping away from Grogu and his gruel toward Baast. She stiffened, hand flexing where she clutched the cloth closed, but the Zentari didn't back down.

Din moved with cautious steps to the crates piled against the wall and shoved two over before picking up the third and setting it down on top of the others. From within, he pulled out blue silks. "I have this if you want it."

A regal brow arched, her wet hair sleek and sticking to her now brushed the tops of her thighs. "Why does a Mandalorian have a courtesan's dress in his belongings?"

He flinched, having hoped she wouldn't recognize it. "Because an assassin dressed as a courtesan attempted to kill me, but not until after she'd taken her clothes off."

Baast eyed the cloth a moment longer before gliding forward to pluck it from his fingers. "Did she succeed in the seduction?"

"No. That's why she was naked. She made a poor courtesan."

"Hmm," purred from her as she walked back into the fresher, and the door closed behind her. "And you have simply kept it lying around?" she called through the door.

Did she sound jealous, or was he still dreaming? "It's not something a Mandalorian can walk into the market and sell without garnering a second look."

"You were not, perhaps, keeping it for your riduur?"

The door opened, and Din forgot how to speak. Blue silk fell in sleek lines from the golden band that bared the under curve of her breasts. She swept out and headed for Grogu, sailing past him, her damp hair leaving a dark stain on the skirt. 

"I haven't thought much about a riduur." Before now. 

He followed her like a Bantha would a Tuskin Raider, and when she sat to help Grogu with his food, Din came to a stop behind her. 

She looked up, but he knew the beskar made it hard for her to read him. "Is it that terrible? Do I not make a passable courtesan?"

"More than passable," escaped his mouth, his brain still malfunctioning. "But your hair is dripping."

"Wet hair does that," she teased him with a smile.

"May I?"

She blinked as he began to strip off his gloves. "Din?"

"Let me," he murmured, running his fingers like a comb through her thick locks. He sat on a crate and worked free what few tangles had formed before splitting the mass in half. He began the plait high, working it smooth against her scalp and down behind her ear. When his fingers brushed the pointed tip, a shudder raced through her, but a low, happy purr followed. He made it to the end and used a scrap piece of leather to bind the long braid. 

"How is it that a Mandalorian knows how to do a woman's hair with the skill of a maid?"

He froze, fingers full of sand-coloured silk. "My mother," he murmured. "I once did it for my mother."

Her hand closed gently on his knee, Baast reaching back, otherwise staying still for him. "A good memory, I hope."

"One of my only good memories," he murmured, finishing the section close to her skull and swiftly plaiting the rest. Once he tied the end, she turned to look up at him and left him breathless. 

He'd never seen a more mesh'la creature. Men would spend their entire fortune for one night with her. But Din looked at her and saw her dressed in the ornaments of a riduur. Beskar bands for her braids, the cuff that would circle her upper arm and proudly display the mark of the mudhorn, proclaiming her part of his clan. The beskar breastplate that would be hers the moment their first child was born.

"Then, I am pleased to help you remember it." She stroked one of the thick plaits. "I am happy to offer myself to your ministrations in the future, should you so desire to assist me again."

Vital portions of his anatomy tightened, causing him to rise swiftly and step away from her tempting allure. "We'll be in Nevarro soon. I'll see about more suitable clothing when we get there."

He climbed the ladder back to the cockpit, knowing damn well he was running away.

***

riduur -  spouse

Usenye! - Go away!

Udesii - Calm down.

Ibic taap, Ni cuy' bat Kyr'nakil - This place, I am on edge

Tion'jor - why

Vaabir val olaror par gar - do they come for you

 nayc staabi - no right

 ***

Next Chapter

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Noona, Do You Have a Boyfriend? | Final Part

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 8.2k

Summary: Convinced that you’re bad for his friend, Minho lashes out at you, leaving you even more hurt and confused than you already were. 

Warnings: femdom, sub!jisung, sub!minho, dom!reader, slapping, degradation, bratty!minho, kinda virgin!minho, he never had his ass fucked before lol, threesome, voyeurism, lots of dirty talk as per usual, cumplay, cum and drool all over, minho getting broken, but like it’s all consensual, and the reader is attentive, even though she wants to punch him, minor aftercare, jealous!jisung, deep-throating, pegging, fingering, minho is a mess, this fic is a mess, and I gave up proof-reading it so yes

You miss Jisung.

He’s been avoiding you ever since your movie night, hurt by your rejection. You wanted to respect his decision, you really did, but you feel like shit not being able to see his smile every single day like you used to. It was like your morning cup of coffee; sure, you could survive without it, but then you’d be dull and lifeless the whole day and what’s the point in that? You miss hearing him laugh, his adorable little giggles, so boyish and carefree, they make whatever was troubling you seem trivial. He never smiles at you anymore… and your days have been significantly less bright for it. The only thing that breaks the ominous gloom that has taken over your life are the ripples of lightning that flash in his eyes whenever your eyes accidentally meet, the pain still fresh in his mind.

You’re at your wit’s end by now. Even if it’s selfish, you’ve decided that you’re not gonna take this any longer; you’re gonna go to him. To say or do what? You don’t know. All you know is that you can’t take being without him any longer.

With each step you take towards him, your world gets a little brighter, a sliver of sunlight shining through the dark grey clouds. You feel good about this. You can almost feel the warmth seeping through your skin…but then a terrible storm comes between you, blocking the heavens out of sight.

Minho appears out of nowhere—or maybe he had been there all along, and you just hadn’t noticed, too busy staring at your sunshine boy. He grabs you without a word, and drags you away.

“What are you doing?” You panic, whipping your head around you to see a confused Jisung watching Minho lead you out of the practice room.

“Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t.” He cautions as soon as you’re out of earshot, dark and unforgiving. “I’ve just barely gotten him to stop moping around because of you. I won’t let you destroy all the progress we’ve made so back off and let him move on.”

Oh. So apparently you weren’t that slick about your intentions. Minho must’ve noticed the longing glances you’ve been throwing at Jisung and the way you’ve been hovering around lately, nervous and trying to build up the courage to talk to him, something that Minho seems intent on preventing.

“Shouldn’t he be the one who decides if he wants to move on or not?” You bristle, feeling threatened by the boy who wants to take your sunshine away. You could feel your heart shrivel up at the thought that Jisung could move on from you so quickly. That—if it were up to Minho—another could be basking in the warmth that is him while you’re left behind, the only thing keeping you company is the memory of the sunlight on your skin.

Why does Minho want to hurt you like that? What did you do to him to deserve something so cruel?

“You know he won’t. He’s too sweet for his own good and that’s what you’re counting on, isn’t it?”

“Why are you talking to me like it’s my plan to hurt him? I care about him, believe it or not.”

“I don’t. Not after I’ve watched him bend over backwards to get you to like him when you’ve been nothing but a frigid bitch to him.”

“So you just expect me to reciprocate the attention of anyone who shows interest in me? Don’t I have the right to think about it? Matter of fact, have you ever considered that it’s his eagerness that put me off in the first place? Not everyone has their feelings on eleven, and some of us need some time before we can let someone in.”

“So what, you’re saying you like him now?” He sneers flippantly, mocking you.

“Maybe I do.” You mutter, fidgeting under his accusatory gaze.

“Maybe is not good enough. You said it yourself, Jisung feels too much. When he loves someone, he gives them his all, and he needs someone who can give their all to him as well, and let’s not kid ourselves, that person isn’t you. If you really cared about him then you’ll stay away from him. He can get over you if you back off now, but if you let him get too involved then decide you can’t handle him after all, it would crush him.”

“What if he hurts me? Why do you assume that I’d be the bad guy here?”

“Frankly, I don’t care if he hurts you. He’s my friend. He’s the one I care about.”

“Wow, thanks—”

“I’m serious.” He cuts you off, not caring to hear what you have to say. “Don’t fuck with my members. They’re my family. You don’t deserve him so just step aside and let him find someone who can love him like he needs.”

“I get it. You don’t like me. You don’t have to be such an asshole about it.” You retort, trying to act like his flippantly cruel comment hadn’t cut you up inside, but the mirthless chuckle doesn’t make it past your constricting throat and your eyes fill up with tears that you refuse to shed in his presence.

“I’m gonna… yeah.” You spin on your heel just before the first droplets break off, and scurry away.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Waking up with a groan, you blindly throw your arm out from under the blanket and feel for the source of the noise that had ripped you away from your slumber at this undoubtedly ungodly hour. When your hand encounters the loathsome object, you bring it to your ear and answer it without even checking to see who was calling—and not caring to in your enthusiasm to curse them off for waking you up.

“I swear to god if this is not about someone dying—”

“Noona…” You almost miss the small voice over your own anger, stopping you in your tracks. You shoot up, all sleep suddenly leaving your eyes as you clutch the phone in both hands as if you can physically keep the other person on the line that way.

“Han?!”

“Did I wake you up, noona?” He asks dumbly, but your anger was suddenly nowhere to be found.

“No, nooo, I was already up…getting some water.” You wince at your stupid lie. It was obvious he’d woken you up. A quick glance at the clock tells you it’s three in the morning and your voice sounds like that of an eighty year-old man suffering from chronic lung disease, but you’re not about to tell him that. Shaking your head, you try to brush off the stupid. “Anyway, what’s up?”

What’s up? Apparently the stupid was more deeply ingrained than you thought.

“Oh, I… umm, I’m in the studio and I’ve been working on this song that… is just kicking my ass, you know? And…um,” He trails off into an awkward silence, the likes of which you haven’t experienced since middle school.

Was he waiting for you to finish his thought? You hope not because you had no idea where he was going with this. Was he looking for a pep talk or something? Oh god, what were you supposed to tell him? You weren’t prepared for this.

A frustrated sigh cuts off your panicked musings.

“I’ve told you before how you’ve been like a…a muse to me—oh god, that sounds so dumb and cheesy but it’s true, and without you around it’s just—”

Another deep sigh and a long pause. You can practically feel him telepathically willing you to understand what he needs but you were slow from sleep and your ability to figure out what he wanted without using words had gone rusty from disuse.

Still, the silence was suffocating so you decide to take a shot in the dark. “Do… do you want phone sex?”

“No! What? No!” He squeaks in that adorable panicked voice of his and despite the weird situation, it puts a smile on your face.

“Can you just come to the studio?” He ventures wearily, “Not to hook up or anything! I think I just… need you near me.”

You gasp at his confession. You’ve only dared to wish for something like this in your dreams, the time and distance that grew larger between you with each passing day having all but left you hopeless that he’d want you back.

Misinterpreting your reaction, he hurries to apologize, “I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot to ask and you probably don’t want to see me—”

“It’s not!” You cut him off, scared he’d hang up before you even had a chance to speak for yourself. “I want to see you, Han. I’ll be there soon.”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

The big studio feels suffocatingly small with just the two of you inside, all the baggage you two have been carrying over the months taking up too much space for you to comfortably breathe. You needed to cast them away but you’re not sure how.

“So…what are you working on?” You valiantly, and awkwardly, break the loaded silence, startling Jisung as if he hadn’t expected to hear you speak.

Clearing his throat, he turns towards the control board and fumbles with the buttons. “Let me show you.”

He gives you no further instruction so you just stand there awkwardly for a few seconds before going ahead and grabbing one of the extra chairs and pulling it up to sit beside him.

“This is the song I told you about.”

As the song starts playing, he stares ahead, chewing on his bottom lip and not checking to see your reaction. When his voice comes on, he blushes a little. “This is just the demo. The finished version will have a much better vocalist like Woojin-hyung or Seungminnie to sing it.”

“I like your voice, Han.” You answer without thinking, but it’s true. Jisung may not be the main vocalist but you like the tone of his voice regardless. “I think it’s, um, sweet.

“You don’t have to flatter me, noona.”

“I’m not.” Your firm tone makes his eyes automatically look over to you. “I like it, ok?”

“Ok.” He bites his lips and looks straight ahead once again.

When the song finishes, he asks for your opinion.

“I like it…” You start, hesitating.

“But?”

“But I feel like it’s missing something.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” He exclaims, pressing his fingers against his temples in frustration. “But I can’t for the life of me figure out what it is.”

“I don’t know.” You mumble, stressed that he’s looking at you like he expects you to have an answer. “You’re the producer.”

“I know. I’m just frustrated and tired.” He rubs the back of his head sheepishly, “I’ve been working on it for so long but it’s still not right.”

“Why don’t you take a little break? Maybe it’s not working out because you’re forcing it.” You suggest.

“A break? Like do nothing?” He cocks his head at you, a little confused frown on his face as he considers your words, seeming as if the thought had never crossed his mind before.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, ok.” He blinks and leans back in his chair, his frown intensifying as if he’s hearing about the concept of relaxation for the first time in his life.

As cute as he looks right now—and he looks gosh darn cute with that kissable pout on his lips and the way he had tugged his legs against his chest, looking so tiny—you realize that you need to distract him before his mind goes haywire from overthinking.

“Or you could show me some of your other work?”

His eyes snap up to you, wide and excited at the proposition. “You wanna hear more of my stuff?”

You smile gently at him, assuring him that, “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

The awkwardness dissipates soon after that, as he—at first self-consciously, and then proudly—shows off his work to you, swelling up with each word of praise you profess to him, and you, in turn, swell up with a special kind of pride you’ve never felt for anyone before, a feeling that made you want to proclaim to the world that ‘Yeah, that’s my baby, right there. Isn’t he wonderful?’

You’ve always known that Jisung was gifted, but to get to see him in his element like this, his talent in its rawest form, was an experience you never knew you needed. He was so passionate and genuine about his work, it honestly made you a little teary-eyed.

“Wow, you’re really good at this stuff.” You conclude stupidly, having spent a couple of hours in the studio by now, just listening to some of his tracks and discussing where he wanted to take his music and what he wants to tell through it. You felt woefully under-prepared to even be a passive party in such a technical discussion, but Jisung insisted that talking to you helped him sort out his thoughts and come up with a bunch of ideas on how he might fix that track that has been causing him trouble.

“Thank you, noona.” The sweet boy blushes despite your less than graceful compliment. “I actually thought that maybe I could become a producer if this whole idol thing hadn’t worked out.”

“You’d be an amazing producer! Actually, whatever you would’ve chosen to do, I know you would’ve been amazing at it.” You gush with conviction. Maybe you were biased but you just know that your sunshine boy was talented enough to succeed at whatever his beautiful heart desired.

And through your stormy world, the sun shyly peeks behind the clouds as he smiles at you. Not just any smile, your smile, the one you’ve been aching for all this time, and you can’t help but stare, enraptured by it like a second sun had appeared in the sky.

But before you could soak up the light, it gets eclipsed by the gloom once again.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Jisung whispers, hunched over with his arms resting on his thighs, his gaze set on his twiddling fingers, avoiding your own.

“What?” You blink, the remnants of the light scattering from your eyes.

“I thought that maybe you’d miss me like I was missing you… but I guess you were right about me being dumb.”

“You’re not dumb!” You shoot out of your seat and stand over him, cupping his face in your hands and forcing him to look at you. “I did! I missed you so much!”

“But you never tried to contact me.” He breathes you in, and for a second, he gets lost in all that you are—your smell, the light in your eyes, the warmth of your hands, all the things that he had missed so dearly. He’s so busy soaking it all up that it startles him when your hands fall from his face to swing limply at your sides, breaking the spell.

“I did try but…”

“But what?”

Tears spring to your eyes as you recall what Minho had said. You don’t deserve him. His words rang in your ears like thunder, feeling truer now than they ever did after what you’ve witnessed today.

“Nothing.” You shake your head, embarrassed to admit the truth. You’ve never been this unsure of yourself. Not because of Minho—he could go fuck himself as far as you were concerned. But this was the first time you’ve been so completely enamored with someone like this. People tend to inflate their lover’s worth and you were no exception; to you, Jisung deserves the best, and you feared that you weren’t that.

Reclaiming your hands, he tugs on them gently, pulling you onto his lap. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Despite the firm grip he has on your hands, his soft glittery eyes give him away. He was begging you to say something that would assuage his pain, to prove to him that you wanted this as much as he did and that the delay had been out of your hands.

You could do that. You could give him that much.

“Minho told me to stay away.” You confess, heart heavy and fearful that the words would be like a wake-up call to him, and he would realize that he deserved better after all. “He said that you deserve someone who could love you as much as you love them and that I’m not that person.”

At the uncharacteristically livid look on Jisung’s face, your anxious mind bungee jumps to conclusions, figuring that he must think that you’re lying to set his best friend up. You don’t even realize that you’ve started crying until you feel Jisung’s fumbling fingers wiping at your cheeks, trying to keep the tears at bay,

“Oh my god, don’t cry. Please don’t cry, noona. I’m going to kill him for doing this to you. I swear I will.” It would be a hard feat to take any death threat from Jisung seriously, but it’s even harder to when panic dilutes any edge his anger may have had. “Wait… is that why he pulled you out of the practice room that one time?”

You nod, pouting childishly as you remember the incident.

“That fucker! He told me that you were just trying to hook up with me and that’s why he stopped you!” He fumes, but yet again, his anger is quickly cut off by doubt and insecurity, “…you didn’t only want to hook up, right?” He asks, unsure.

“No!” You yell, frustrated beyond belief by how unnecessary all this heartache was, all because of his bitch of a friend. “Would I be here in the middle of the night, listening to your dumb songs for hours if I didn’t have feelings for you?”

“Hey! My songs aren— wait, you have feelings for me?”

“Do you think I sing A Whole New World with just any random dude?”

He bites his lip and tries to suppress his smile, but that only emphasizes his squirrel teeth, making you curse as you feel your heart leaping in your chest. Fuck, so cute.

You realize that you’ve said that out loud when he blushes and smacks your shoulder playfully, his teeth untangling from his lip to let his smile grow wide and unrestrained. “I want to hear you say it.”

You roll your eyes, “I like you, you dumbass.”

You had hardly finished saying it before you’re pulled into an enthusiastic kiss. “Then forget about what my dumb hyung said.”

“But what if he’s right? What if I can’t love you enough?” You fret, still unsure.

“Impossible. With just one call, you come running here, leaving your cozy bed behind to listen to my dumb songs without even the slightest prospect of getting dicked down? You’re whipped, noona.”

You smack him playfully, and yet you still can’t quite let it go. “What if I hurt you?”

“Isn’t that how all relationships go? Either you stay together or you break up.”

“You’re being super wise right now, it’s disturbing.” You pout, wrapping your arms around his neck and smothering him with chaste little kisses.

Impatient, he grabs your face and captures your lips in a real kiss. “You’d be surprised what my brain is capable of when not all my blood is flowing to my boner.”

You throw your head back laughing, finally starting to feel like things are going to be okay for the first time in a long time. “I love you my dumb, wise baby…”

“Oh, and Minho will pay for this.”

Jisung buries his face in your neck, chuckling lightly. “I’m already on it, babe.”  

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Checking your phone, you take note of the time; Ten thirty. That means you had kept them waiting for almost 20 minutes now.

This was all part of Jisung’s plan to make his hyung “atone” for trying to sabotage your relationship—bringing him into your bedroom so you can fuck him up like he almost fucked you guys up, and if that happened to also satisfy his long-held fantasy of getting to see you fuck another guy in front of him... Well that was just the cherry on top for him, or so he claimed.

You knew just how thirsty he was for this, the weeks leading up to tonight filled with a whiny, impatient Jisung pestering you about why he can’t just bring Minho over already and accusing you of prolonging his wait just to torture him. And maybe you did, but it’s nothing he can prove.

Deciding to finally have mercy on him, you give yourself one last look in the mirror to make sure nothing was out of place and that the red robe you wore covered your bare body properly before you head out of the bathroom door and step out into your bedroom.

Immediately, your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the scene in front of you.

Minho had your boyfriend pinned under him on the bed, both their clothes in a pile on the floor and their dick rubbing against each other as Minho grinded down on him.

Small moans escaped Jisung as he struggled against the hold Minho had on his arms, pinning them against the bed as he devoured the younger boy’s neck. You haven’t even started yet and they were already misbehaving. You had told them clearly to not touch each other while you were getting ready but apparently you should’ve never trusted these two.

Whatever, you’ll teach them to not disobey you again.

Taking your phone out of the robe’s pocket, you open the app that controls the plug you had put inside Jisung’s ass earlier and turn it on, causing the boy to suddenly yelp out and whip his head towards the bathroom door where you stand, freaking out when his eyes land on your unimpressed face.

“I tried to stop him, noona.” He attempts to justify his actions but you shush him, walking further into the room. “Sure, you did, brat. You know, I’m doing this whole thing to satisfy your sick fantasy, right? And yet you can’t even follow one simple instruction, can you?”

You turn the speed up a notch, making Jisung jolt a little in Minho’s grasp. “Ah, fuck, noona! I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” You turn it up even higher.

Curious as to what’s happening, Minho pushes off the boy, cocking his head to the side as he takes a second to realize what has suddenly gotten the younger boy so riled up. His suspicions are confirmed when he pulls Jisung’s thighs apart to see the diamond-shaped bottom of the plug glimmering between his cheeks. Pressing on it, he pushes the part that had slipped out because of Jisung’s squirming back in, making the boy gasp and his fingers clutch at the sheet desperately.

“Hmm, cute. So this is what Jisungie has to make do with. How sad.” He sneers, fucking the toy in and out of him a few time before taking it out and throwing it to the ground at your feet. “It must kill you, that you don’t have a real cock to fuck him with, right?”

“But I do have one.” You retort easily, not missing a beat, and he frowns at you in confusion, flinching just a bit when you reach a hand out towards him. But he doesn’t stop you as your hand wraps around his hard dick and gives it a sharp stroke that has him involuntarily thrusting forward in your fist.

“It’s right here. As long as you’re in my bed, every part of you belongs to me.” You drawl, continuing to languidly stroke him. “Even your pretty little dick.”

Taking your hand off his again, you don’t miss the quiet hiss he lets out at the loss of stimulation. “Now fuck him well and don’t you dare disappoint me.” You deadpan, sitting down on the bed in front of them and looking at them expectantly.

Turning to Jisung with misplaced anger, he manhandles the poor boy, flipping him onto his stomach then grabbing him by the hips to push his ass in the air, allowing him to easily line up his dick with your boyfriend’s stretched out hole. He looks you right in the eyes as he orders him, “Beg for it, baby boy. Beg me to ram my cock inside you and fuck you like she can’t.”

Jisung hesitates and you can see the conflict on his face as he contemplates whether to obey Minho and piss you off or not obey him and piss him off. Impatient, Minho lands a harsh smack against the younger’s ass. “Beg or I’m not fucking you.”

Whimpering and already much too excited and desperate, that is enough to make up Jisung’s mind. “Please, fuck me, hyung. I’ve missed your cock so much.”

“Yeah? Why, baby? Does she not fuck you?” Minho goads, pushing just the tip of his dick inside the boy.

“She does, but it’s not the same. Your cock feels so much better, hyung.” Jisung throws his head back, moaning theatrically as Minho bottoms out inside him.

“Good boy.” Minho smirks at you as he puts his hands on Jisung’s slim waist and starts moving him over his length, fucking him slowly.

You roll your eyes at the two boys acting out, thinking they’re actually doing something there. You watch as Minho makes Jisung fuck himself on his dick instead of thrusting into him, moving the younger boy ever so slowly over his cock as he stares you down with an arrogant smile, knowing that you want to see him ruin Jisung, but choosing to tease you instead.

But two can play at this game.  

Loosening up the knot that held your robe closed, you slowly pull the fabric apart over your chest until it slides off your shoulders, exposing your breasts and hard nipples to their hungry eyes. You play with them, taking your time as you massage your breasts and lightly run your fingers over your nipples, only allowing the softest moans to slip from your lips, each one riling the boys up more. You smile as Minho unconsciously starts fucking the boy under him while Jisung lets out whimpering little moans, needing you both to stop teasing him.

“Noona, please spread your legs.” Jisung whines, eyes focused on the way your legs were rubbing together because of your own hands on your chest.

“You want me to expose myself to your hyung, baby? Don’t you have any shame? Wanting him to see what any other man would fight to keep to themselves?”

Jisung whines again and reaches out to push your legs apart himself. You act as if he took you by surprise, letting them get a glimpse of your pussy before you snap your legs shut and slap your boyfriend across the face. “You little pervert!”

He draws back and whimpers, pushing his ass against his hyung’s crotch and moaning out wantonly as the movement suddenly pushes Minho’s entire length inside his ass, the tip of it hitting his prostate.

“You want to see my pussy that bad?”

He nods, watching your hand snake between your legs to cover your crotch before you spread them open, your hand inconveniently covering your heat. “You want to show your hyung what you’ve been getting all this time?”

You grind the heel of your hand against yourself, the stimulation crude but arousing nonetheless, and you let out soft little moans.

“Yes, noona, please! I want to show him your pretty pussy.”

You giggle at your boyfriend’s pleas and start pulling your fingers off one by one, until the only thing standing between their hungry eyes and your glistening pussy is your middle finger that was still placed over your slit.

“But I don’t know if I he deserves to see.” You pout sadly, continuing to tease them, rubbing your finger up and down your slit, which proves to be too much for Minho who finally snaps. “For fuck’s sake, just show us your pussy!”

“Ah, hyung—” Jisung attempts to warn him but it’s too late, you clamp your legs shut and tie your robe back up. “I see where Jisung gets his brattiness from. That’s too bad. I was going to let you eat me out.”

Tauntingly, you brandish your soaked fingers in their faces, making a show of rubbing them together then pulling them apart so they’d see the thick strings of arousal that stretch between them.

Jisung cries out, pleading you for a taste, and you even see Minho lick his lips in anticipation. So you reach your hand towards him as if you’re going to let him have a taste, but just as he opens his mouth to take your fingers in, you drop your hand and wipe your fingers on the sheets.

“Bitch.”

“Oh honey,” You lean up close to his face, your words dripping condescension. “You’re the only little bitch here, and I’ll prove it to you soon enough.”

You can see that the threat gets to him as he stops fucking Jisung to warily watch as you get off the bed to retrieve the box you had prepared beforehand.

“I didn’t tell you to stop. Keep fucking him.”

But he can’t and his eyes remain on you as you get the box and settle back down on the bed, this time behind him. Craning his head back, he sees you taking out a bottle of lube and slathering some of it on your middle finger.

“What are you going to do?” He turns back towards you with panic in his eyes.

“What do you think? I’m going to finger you open so I can fuck your pretty ass.”

“What? You’re g-gonna fuck me? But I thought…”

“You thought what, that you’d be the one fucking me?” You sneer, making him flush with embarrassment and stare back ahead to avoid your sharp gaze, but you grab him by the jaw and force him to face you again. “You think I’d let your pathetic little cock anywhere near my pussy?”

Taking one of his hands in yours, you guide it between your legs, and he gasps out as he feels your wetness. “Did you really think you deserve to fuck this pussy?” You condescend, pushing his fingers inside you and letting him feel your tight heat around him.

“N-no.” He whimpers, fingers twitching as he tries to hold himself back from moving them.  

“No.” You confirm, ripping his hand away from you.

As you push him down on top of Jisung and line your finger with his entrance--ignoring the way your boyfriend glares back at you for squishing him under the older boy--Minho squeaks out, “Wait!”

“What now, brat?”

“I’ve… I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“What?” For the first time, you panic, and practically jump back.

“I’ve fingered myself before!” He quickly adds in when he sees the worry in your eyes, “I just have never been…uh… you know.”

“Fucked?”

“Yeah.” He stares dead ahead once again, too embarrassed to look at you.

“If you’re uncomfortable with it then that’s fine. You and Jisung could just keep fucking and we’ll end it at that.” You say, trying to convey to him that he completely had a choice in this and you would never do something he was uncomfortable with. Yes, this was his “punishment” and you weren’t exactly happy with what he had tried to do to you and Jisung, but you would never force anything on him.

“No, I want to try.” He mumbles quietly.

“What?” You prod, having heard what he said but needing him to say it loud and clear, not just to confirm that he was okay with this but because it was so sexy watching the hyper-bratty boy acting so shy.  “If you don’t speak up and say what you want clearly, I won’t give it to you.”

His head snaps back towards you, scared you’d follow through on your threat, and he was way too horny to stop now. “I want it.”

Smirking, you press your lubed up finger to his hole, not pushing it in yet but just rubbing against it. “What do you want?”

“You know what.” He grunts, hips tensing with the effort to not push back against your finger.

“Jisung baby, is this how a good boy asks for something?”

“No. Good boys beg for treats.” Jisung’s voice was strained with need as he wiggles his hips, his dripping dick pressed against his abdomen and the sheets as Minho’s weight lies on top of him, but doesn’t try to rush the both of you, understanding that this is a sensitive moment.

“You heard him, kitten. Beg.”

You can tell from the way his jaw clenches that he wouldn’t give in even before the insolent words come out of his mouth. “Fuck you.”

You smile menacingly, “Gladly.”

You push your finger inside of him, not too suddenly so as not to hurt him but quick enough to make him ache. “Just wait until I’m done with you. I’ll fuck that attitude right out of you.”

Minho grunts in disapproval at your words but he doesn’t protest as your finger starts exploring his tight ass, rubbing inside him in tight little circles, searching for the spot that would have him keening.

“I’m surprised you’ve never been fucked before. With the way you act, I would’ve guessed that someone would’ve already gotten sick of your shit and fucked you straight. God knows it’s all I could think about whenever I hear you run your bratty little mouth.”

“Don’t think too highly of yourself. This doesn’t even feel go–oh!” He tried to shoot you down but he embarrassingly fails when he feels your finger brush against his prostate, quickly silencing his retort.

“Shhh… that’s a good boy.” You jeer, pressing a firm hand to the small of his back to keep him in place as you start pumping your fingers, not wanting him to get ahead of himself. You can practically feel his body humming underneath you.

It doesn’t take him long to ask for more. “Fuck, go faster.”

“What’s the magic words, princess?” You mock.

“I ha-ate you.” He stutters, making you laugh. “I hate you too, darling, but those are not quite the words I’m looking for.”

When your finger is easily thrusting in and out of him, you pull it out to squirt more lube onto it, covering your index finger along with it too then pushing them both inside of him, smirking at the way he braces himself against the stretch and knowing that he’ll be feeling good again in no time.

And sure enough, he’s soon mewling and squirming in your grasp as he unconsciously fucks the boy underneath him, his hips thrusting down with each push of your fingers against his prostate. Jisung was whimpering under him, enjoying the erratic way Minho was drilling into him was making his own dick grind against the sheets.

“That good, huh?” You drawl at the two boys.

“So good.” Jisung whimpers, but Minho still can’t get himself to give in.

“Shut up—AH!” He throws his head back, moaning out.

“I think he’s gonna cum soon, noona.” Jisung warns you, “I can feel him twitching inside me.”

“Oh no, he won’t.” You declare, pulling him up so his dick slips out of Jisung, both of them crying out in frustration, but Minho’s whining was significantly louder, not used to your teasing the way Jisung was. You smirk as you force him to sit back on his heels and wrap a hand tightly around the base of his cock to staunch his release. He was so close to breaking now.

“Grab the cockring from the box, baby.” You tell Jisung, and Minho kicks up a fuss as the younger boy slips out from under him, struggling in your arms. “No, no, I don’t want it!”

You exchange an amused look with Jisung as he hands you the cockring. “He really thinks he gets to have a say in this. What a silly kitten.” You laugh, putting the ring on him anyway. “There, now it’ll be much harder for the little kitty to misbehave.”

You push him back on his hands and knees, ordering Jisung to get the strap and put it on you. He excitedly obeys, buckling it up for you and even putting lubing it up, impatient to finally see you fucking his hyung.

“Good boy.” You cup his face and give him a sweet kiss, then, in a hushed voice so Minho wouldn’t hear, you ask, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Right away, Jisung smiles and nods, kissing you once again and letting out a muffled “yes” against your lips before he excitedly pulls back in order to watch.

Turning your attention back to Minho, you make sure he’s alright too. “I’m going in, kitten, okay?”

“Do it.” He grits, this time unable to hold back the slight way his ass pushes back against you.

Assured that they’re both completely on board with this, you get back into character. Lining the strap-on with his ass, you start pushing the fake dick into him slowly. He whimpers with each inch of it that slides into him and when it’s all the way in, he lets out a long sigh. You remain still for a while as he adjusts, and then for a little while longer just to see him squirm and try to get you to start fucking him.

“You’re so stubborn, kitten, but your body betrays you.” You tease, finally moving your hips. Minho moans quietly as your cock drives into him, bashful little noises he can’t control as his pleasure easily builds up again because of your prolonged teasing.

Shuffling up the bed so he’s kneeling in front of Minho, Jisung hooks a finger under the older boy’s chin to lift his face up towards him. He clearly likes what he sees on his hyung’s face because he bites his lip and his other hand slithers down his body to tug at his own cock.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, hyung?” Jisung asks, but it seems like he wasn’t interested in getting an answer because as soon as his hyung opens his mouth to speak, Jisung pushes his thumb inside and presses down on his tongue.

You don’t fail to notice the hungry way Jisung was regarding Minho as he struggles to mouth his words despite the obstruction. You knew what your boy wanted, and he was long overdue to get his reward anyway.

“Go ahead, baby, use his mouth.” You inform Jisung and grab onto Minho’s hair to keep his head up and his mouth level with Jisung’s cock. “Since he interrupted you so rudely earlier.”

“Thank you, noona!” Jisung gushes, paying no thanks to the person who is actually going to have his dick in his mouth because at this point--just like you had told him earlier--Minho was just a toy for you to play with your boyfriend with. As long as he was in your bed, his body was yours to do with as you please, and right now it pleases you to see him choking on Jisung’s dick.

But Minho still resists, and when Jisung presses the head of his dick against his mouth, he refuses to let him in. Unfortunately for him, Jisung was too wound up to entertain his defiance, and he promptly grips his hyung’s jaw and digs his fingers into his cheeks, pucking his lips open and shoving his length between them and into down his throat.

A loud moan tears out of his own throat when he feels Minho choke around his length, but his pleasure is marred by guilt and he forces himself to pull out in order to allow Minho to breathe. You don’t let him though, quickly stepping in and using the grip you had on Minho’s hair to push his head back down Jisung’s cock because, unlike Jisung, you don’t feel sorry for the older male at all. You hold him like that for a couple of seconds as he struggles to breathe through his nose that was nestled in Jisung’s crotch.

“Don’t be nice to him, Sungie. He tried to break us apart. Use him however you want.” You grunted, finally let Minho go.

Mercifully, Jisung gives him a few seconds to clear his throat, coughing and spluttering violently, before he replaces your grip with his own and pushes his length back inside his hyung’s mouth.

The sight of Jisung holding Minho by his hair and fucking his mouth like that reminds you of the time he did the same thing to you, holding you down with his cock sheathed down your throat. You had to admit--seeing it happen in front of you--you get why it turned him on so much back then, and the lewd sounds of Minho gagging and slurping around Jisung’s cock only works you up further.

Picking up the pace, you try to match your thrusts with Jisung’s, the both of you brutally fucking the poor boy whose moans get louder and garbled like he’s trying to tell you something. Too far gone in ecstasy, Jisung doesn’t notice but you do. You push Jisung back a bit, making him whine as you stop his abuse of the other boy’s throat so you can ask him what he wants.

“I want to cum.” He splutters hoarsely, drool falling down to the sheets as he coughs.

“Still not how you ask. Do you want to try again?” You wait for him to beg, but he still resists. “No? Alright. Jisungie, do you want to cum, baby?”

“Yes, please, let me, noona!” It’s easy for you to make Jisung beg, yet you still look at him with adoration and pride every time he does it.

“Okay, but I want you to do it on your hyung’s face. Want you to cover his pretty face with your cum. Can you do that for me, love?”

“Fuck, yes, noona.” Jisung bites down harshly on his lip, his hand immedietly going to his dick and pumping it furiously as he watches you continue to fuck Minho.

“I think he wants it, noona. His tongue is practically hanging out of his mouth.” Jisung teases the older boy whose face was mere face inches from his red and swollen dick. “Ready, hyung?”

When Jisung cums, it lands all over Minho’s face, covering him with his sticky seed and joining his drool to drip down onto the mattress. With a final grunt, the last spurt of cum lands on Minho’s cheek. Reaching out a hand, Jisung smears his cum all over Minho face, watching with ecstasy-laden eyes as his hyung shudders with need under his fingertips.

“I can’t—shit… please, please, please, ah, don’t stop, p-please, god… cum-ah...” Minho blabs, barely coherent as the need seizes his brain and pushes out every last bit of pride. He had finally broken.

Satisfied, you pull Minho up into a sitting position and give Jisung the go ahead. He quickly grips Minho’s cock and jerks him off in much the same way he did his own cock seconds earlier.

“Come on, hyung, cum for us now.” Jisung coos at him, but Minho doesn’t give in yet, scared that this was a trick somehow. Turning his head to look back at you, he looks to be on the verge of crying. “Please.”

Wow, you had really done him in.

Chuckling, you reassure him that he can cum. “Don’t worry, kitten. You can cum. You’ve done such a good job so go ahead, baby. Cum.”

Giving him the final push he needs, Minho lets the powerful orgasm Jisung’s hand and your strap-on give him, letting out loud sobs as he shakes and clutches onto Jisung’s shoulders, his cum painting your boyfriend’s stomach white and dripping down to his cock.

When you pull away to take off the strap-on, Minho slumps down into Jisung’s arms, the younger boy holding him in his embrace and awkwardly running his hand up and down his back in an attempt to soothe his overwhelmed hyung despite him not having any experience in the aftercare department.

“There, there.” Jisung’s wide eyes stare at you, silently asking you for help, and you could almost laugh at the sheer panic you see in them.

Although you still weren’t one-hundred percent over what Minho had done to you in the past, it only takes a moment of seeing the shivering mess that had become of him for your instincts to kick in and compel you to take care of him.

Wanting to help the both of them out--your boyfriend who looked like a teenager holding a newborn baby like he’s afraid he’d break him, and Minho who might as well have been born again for how new the experience was to him-- you quickly put the toys aside and go back to the boys.

Pressing a hand to Minho’s back, you caress his skin softly and whisper to him, “Shh, baby, it’s okay. You’re okay. You did good. You’re such a good kitten.” You trail your hand up to push his hair out of his face so you can look him in the eye and convey your sincerity to him.

You hear a small huff, but it hadn’t come from Minho. You look up at your boyfriend to see him frowning at you, his eyes narrowed and his expression all but asking you what the hell you were doing.

You shoot him a sharp look that tell him to behave then you turn back towards the older boy in his arms. “Think you can handle a shower right now, kitten?”

He shakes his head, burying his face in Jisung’s neck and letting out a muffled whine, “Don’t wanna.”

“What a baby.” Jisung snorts under his breath and it takes everything in you not to grab him and give him a good spanking for acting so selfish and thoughtless.

You give him another sharp looks that has him cowering, and try to keep the edge out of your voice as you talk to Minho. “That’s okay, I’ll just go grab a towel to clean you up. Sungie, stay with him until I come back.”

“But, I--” Jisung starts protesting, a severe pout scrunching up his face at having to take care of his hyung when he’s usually the one being taken care of.

“No buts, don’t be selfish now.”

“Humph!”

“Be good now and I’ll reward you later.” You sigh and go to kiss the top of his head, thinking that it’ll end at that.

But as you get up to get the towels, Jisung follows you anyway, peeling his hyung’s fingers off of him and leaving him curled up on the bed alone.

“What did I say?” You grit, not feeling up to taking care of both your pouty boyfriend and his needy hyung. He’s the one who wanted this so bad in the first place, the least he could do is help you.

“Why are you being so nice to hyung?”

“It’s called aftercare, Jisung. This was his first time getting pegged, he needs the support or he could go into subdrop.” You explain patiently, but Jisung didn’t look like he was interested in listening.

“What about me?” He whines insolently, backing you up against the counter, one of his hands going between your legs. “You’re my girlfriend, not his.”

You shiver as you feel his fingers teasing your slit, reminding you of how you’re the only one who didn’t get to cum. “And you’re my big boy. I know you can handle not being the center of attention for one night. You hyung needs me more than you do.”

“He didn’t even make you cum.” He scoffs.

“I’ve got you for that, angel.” You moan as he flicks your clit and you pull him into a hungry kiss.

“You’re mine, noona.” He mumbles against your lips and pulls you up onto the counter-top, wedging himself between your legs. You don’t get the chance to ask him to fuck you before he’s already sliding into your wet heat. How is he hard again so fast? “Not his. Mine.”

You sigh, grabbing onto his ass and directing his thrusts, setting a fast pace in order to cum fast so you wouldn’t leave Minho alone for too long. “I should’ve known you’d act like this. You’re too jealous for something like this. I shouldn’t have humored you.”

“Sex is just sex, but this is different. I don’t like seeing you fussing over him like this. I don’t wanna share you, noona.”

“You’re not sharing me.” You kiss your way up his neck and along his jawline. When you reach his lips, you pull back ever so slightly so your noses are still touching. “Look at me, baby. I’m yours only.”

His hips stutter at your words and he moans helplessly. “Fuck, say that again.”

You smile in amusement at how much that affects him. Putting your lips next to his ear, you drawl, “I’m yours, Sungie.”

“And I’m yours, noona.” He professes, sticking his hand between you to rub you off quickly so you’d cum together. Your thighs shake as your orgasm rushes through you, and the way you clench around him pushes him over the edge too, his cock filling you up with his cum and his sweet moans bouncing off the walls of the bathroom.

You lay quietly in each other’s arms for a minute, the sound of your panting gradually tapering off until everything is silent.

“He’s sleeping on the couch, right?” Jisung disturbs the silence with his sullen question.

“Sungie…”

“Ugh, fine, but I’m sleeping in the middle.”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

A/N: Can you tell I gave up on it? anyway this is the final part so there will be no more parts of this. I loved this series but I’m done with it lol. Anyway let me know what you think of the final chapter. did it live up to your expectations or would you rather I never posted it? skskskks

[whitherliliesbloom]

quietus

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #13 - oneirophrenia ]

[ kaye & illya ] ★ [ 1,883 words ]  ★ [ wozwald au ] a continuation / sequel to fragrant sorrow, a previous fill i did

a hallucinatory (dream-like) state that is caused by such conditions as prolonged sleep deprivation, sensory isolation, and drug use

in the midst of his delirious, drunken haze he saw her - he can’t tell if it was meant to be his final blessing or an eternal curse

When the man felt the effects of the strong intoxicants begin to take its toll on him, they had already long left the domain of the last minor god he’d slain, dragging his bloodstained scythe behind his back. 

Though Lily had insisted that they scour the area for medicine in order to purge his body of the toxins, he’d stubbornly refused and instead stumbled his way back to their base. They both knew that a god of the original pantheon would not be so easily felled by drugs in his system.

But Kaye hasn’t been the same since they’d last visited the ruined temple of the first goddess of creation - his refusal to sleep, eat or even communicate past singular words of acknowledgements or fatigued grunts troubling to no end. She had thought it best to simply leave him in his grief, that time would come to heal him back to normalcy, and that she needed only but to wait for the painful memories to fade. 

It was a decision she regretted immensely as she watched as he finally crumpled to the floor. And as she cradled him in her arms and watched in tearful horror as he stared back up at her with an emptiness in his eyes, light slowly fading, she cried out his name that sounded nothing more than like the muffled trickling of water ringing distantly in his ears.

“Kaye! Kaye!”

Perhaps this was the ending he had always longed for, a fate that he has long awaited at far end of the tunnel... and it certainly took it’s sweet time to arrive. 

As the closest thing to divinity, it would be no small feat to kill him. No amount of drugs, sleep deprivation or even starvation would be able to grant him eternal rest - he knows first hand. He’d spent many millennia injecting his body with nicotine and alcohol, but they never did anything more than to dull his senses - a small mercy granted for him to put up with the karmic retribution that constantly struck him with pain like hooks sinking into his very flesh.

The only thing that could kill him was one of the other pantheon members - and they’re all gone. The life he has led thus far as the sole survivor is one he saw as divine punishment. 

But even a god has his limits - and he wondered if it would perhaps benefit Lily more if he’d just passed on from his own hands, unlikely and irresponsible as that may be.

“Kaye. Kaye.” 

He hears his name being called again, but his eyelids feel too heavy to open... until the scent of daisies fill his nostrils. 

When he opens his eyes, he finds himself in an old, familiar body... a long almost forgotten form of himself from ages ago that he abandoned with the passing of the last of the divine pantheon. 

He’s silent as he looks down at his tattered robes, loose and out of fashion for the modern age compared to his leather jackets and high laced boots. 

“Kaye.” 

He turns his head to the sound of the voice behind him, and his eyes widen - but only briefly. 

“You seem troubled. Is something wrong?”

An ethereal maiden clad head to toe in silken white garbs rests against the stone pillar, her back resting against the cold cobblestone and a singular white flower clasped tightly between her small fingers. Her once familiar vibrant and sparkling violet eyes are now a muted, murky hue - a luster in which he’s had to watch being lost gradually to the cruelty of time. 

Was this a dream? A lucid nightmare? Or perhaps he was in limbo - caught between the realm of the living and the underworld of the dead that awaited his arrival. Where do the souls of dead gods even rest after death? He’s unsure - but he’s certain there is no place for him in heaven.

Despite his initial confusion, Kaye doesn’t seem perturbed or panicked in the least... the sight of the girl filling his heart up with a sorrow that he hadn’t known was even possible for him anymore. He had thought himself incapable of feeling anymore - and yet here he was.

“Nothing.” he answers before he can even think, just like he had back then... Perhaps he really was in a dream - reliving the memories of his biggest regret as punishment for his transgressions. 

“Are you sure?” the girl asks, her voice weak and soft... and he furrows his brows at her insistence. “You can talk to me about whatever is bothering you.”

“I’m not the one who is-” 

The words die in his throat, caught in a choked mutter that gives away his lapse of weakness. He cannot bring himself to say the words, but she has abandoned all shred of self-pity and spells it out with her own voice... and he can only wonder why she is being so nonchalant about her own fate.

“Going to fade? I know.” 

How can her voice remain so gentle? One would assume nothing was amiss about her had she not been wearing an obviously drowsy expression on her face - and even then, she is still smiling. 

“But melancholy doesn’t suit you... You’re usually more... passionate, more angry. Like when Roko pranked you into drinking the stale wine.”

“I’m surprise you still remember that.” Kaye huffs, but his words aren’t entirely true. Because of course she would remember - of course the kindest, most pure-hearted of the six of them would remember everything... She loved everyone more than she even loved herself, foolish and naive as she is.

She giggles lightly, like tiny bell chimes ringing and carrying its melody in the wind and into the starry night sky... but none save the trees and himself are here to hear it, and it does nothing to soothe the thorns that are wrapped in his chest. 

“Maybe I should take you to the shrine after all.” Kaye suggest, has already suggested multiple times before... But the girl merely shakes her head. 

“I’m tired. I don’t think I’d make it even if you carried me.” 

He would in a heartbeat if it would help, but the both of them know it’d be pointless. He’s in denial of the situation, clamoring for what little hope there was left. Were his brother around, he’d certainly point out the irony of the situation with a laugh. 

“Besides... I want the remainder of my energy to remain there... So you can remember me by.”

Beneath sealed lips, Kaye grits his teeth and bites the insides of his cheeks. He knows she doesn’t mean for it to be... But her words felt like they were meant to be a punishment for him - a promise that he wasn’t ready to commit to and make yet.

“Illya.” At the sound of her name, she quiets, fiddling with the petals of the lone flower in her hand gently. “I probably won’t last long enough to remember anything.”

“Don’t say that.”

Finally, he catches a hint of strain in her words, pain flashing in her eyes as she shakes her head.

“All creation will always meet an inevitable end... But death is everlasting, it’s eternal for as long as the world exists.” The goddess pauses for a moment to let her words linger, to let her voice hang in the air and embed itself into his memories for as long as she can afford it to. “You were always the strongest of us... You’ll keep protecting the world for us, won’t you?”

Kaye doesn’t respond her question, but he doesn’t need to... He knows Illya already knows what his answer would be - she knew even before the world began to fall to anarchy.

“Without life, there can be no death.” He murmurs bitterly, and she smiles sympathetically back at him.

“Which is why I will never truly be gone. As long as you live on, you will be living in my memory.” 

A selfish part of himself says he doesn’t want to. He was never known to be the most altruistic of gods, back in the beginning of the world and even now. She knows full well the burden he must bear - and the weight of the words that she spoke to him. 

But beneath the surface level, there is a reason for her blind optimism. She sees her urging him to live not as punishment.... but because she still, even after the ugliness of humanity and life has presented itself fully, carries a flickering hope in her heart that he is sure will die with her.

Illya wants him to live because she believes he will one day find a way to be happy... and if that is what it takes for her to pass on in peace, then he is willing to indulge her with that juvenile, unimaginable fantasy. 

“Can I ask a favor of you, Kaye?” it was to be her final request out of many... She knows of her own self-centeredness as she asks him apologetically. 

Her hand slowly raises, the white flower in her palm grasped weakly between her little fingers. The golden ornaments dangling from her armlets knock together and let out a soft ominous chime. 

“When you visit me in the future, could you bring flowers?” 

He hesitates to move... knows that if he were to take the flower from her hand, that he’d be sealing her fate... and he was far from ready to accept that.

But the swirling of her hopeful, radiant eyes... even as they were slowly losing their usual jewel-like shine bids him take the flower with his left hand, and he holds it delicately in his palm - so softly that he was afraid it would wither away. 

“What kind of flowers? You still haven’t told me what your favorite was.”

“Hehe... you’re right. I am a little indecisive when it comes to that, aren’t I? Let’s see...”

He turns away from her, staring intently at the flower in his hand.

“There are lilies... particularly white ones, but other kinds are pretty too. I really like hydrangeas.. did you know that they bloom in different colors depending on the soil they grow on?”

Her voice is getting softer - more distant. He swallows back the lump in his throat, even if he can tell that she was closing her eyes.

“Yeah, I know. You told me before.”

“I also like plum blossoms... They represent resilience and hope. They’re also called the harbingers of spring.”

She’s so lost in her enamor for flowers that she failed to realize that she hasn’t answered his question... but he cannot bring himself to interrupt her.

“Carnations, hibiscuses, delphiniums...” 

Kaye can no longer remember what her final words had been - only that she spent the final seconds of her life listing the names of flowers - of the things that she loved even unto the very end.  

By the time he realizes she’s grown quiet, and he turns his head to look behind, she has vanished, leaving naught but the lingering, quickly dissipating warmth of the stone she sat upon and the flower in his hand that swayed gently in the nightly breeze. 

[thethousandyearwitch]

Guilt Edged Frame

“Dreams don’t mean anything, Hidan, they are just your tiny brain trying to process what you did the previous day.” Of course, he would dream that night. Hidans idiocy must really be contagious.

--Short exploration of what kind of Nightmares might be haunting Kakuzu--

~The Kakuzu Angst fic of your dreams~ ,  1465 Words, Single Chapter, Angst / No Comfort

AO3 Link 

“’Kuzu, I had a really weird dream, listen to this-“Hidans voice distracted Kakuzu briefly from wincing at the terrible quality of their complementary coffee that the Inn offered, though he only replied with a low grumble at the back of his throat.

“So, I was at the beach, and for some reason I started walking into the water, which, like, I don’t even fucking like swimming.”

“Mh.” He thought about anything else he could do instead of humouring his partners need for conversation.

“But get this: Instead of like, swimming, I just continued walking along the bottom of the ocean, as if there wasn’t even any water. And the deeper I went, the more I started seeing corpses tied to big rocks and concrete slabs.” Kakuzu idly tried to recall if he had ever seen that kind of disposal. It would certainly shut Hidan up for a while. But alas, he had neither rope, nor large rock, nor a deep enough body of water, and the shorter man continued. “It was super gross, some of them were like getting nibbled on by fishes, and they were all bloated. And when I tried to touch one of them, suddenly all of their eyes and necks snapped in my direction with a loud CRACK-“ As he banged on the table to emphasize, the few other patrons of the Inn turned with a startle.

The older one of the pair pushed his chair back, hissed a quick “We’re leaving.” before discarding his cup, headed for the exit. They had a good amount of distance to clear today, and he doubted that they could continue sitting there in peace now that Hidan drew increasing attention with his rambling. The morning sun greedily sunk into the exposed parts of Kakuzus face, and he allowed himself a brief moment to close his eyes and take the warmth in. Something about the sounds and smells of this village carried a familiar feeling with it. Children playing games that been passed on from generation to generation, giggling with ecstasy. A nearby shop selling local spices, a particular one that Kakuzu couldn’t quite place, sweet and yet with a spicy punch-

The moment of peace was over as a flat palm patted against his shoulder. “Are you falling asleep standing up, old man?”

“I was pondering if its worth a try to dispose of you via stone slab in a lake.” They fell into a comfortable walking pace next to each other, headed for the thickening forest to the south.

“You don’t think those could have been other jashinists, do you? Doomed to become the fish-equivalent of a saltlick.”

The pair passed a group of four young women huddled together on a bench, eyeing Hidan and whispering amongst each other. The younger man winked at them with his signature shit-eating grin, and the group broke out into a mixture of giggles and ‘No way~’s. Kakuzu rolled his eyes so hard that for a second he was sure they’d snap back into his skull entirely.

“When I was a kid, there were always some girls who claimed they could analyse your dreams. Same bitches who’d ask about your star sign and blood type before laughing and saying shit like ‘Oh I totally knew it, that’s such an Aries thing~’” Hidan flapped his hand around in crude mockery of any teenage girl ever. Kakuzu couldn’t repress a dark chuckle forcing itself through his vocal cords. Some things never change, including some peoples craving to have special psychic abilities. “Maybe I should have stopped to ask them what my dream last night meant.”

“Dreams don’t mean anything, Hidan, they are just your tiny brain trying to process what you did the previous day.”

“Don’t be such a pretentious cunt! I’m sure you dream of diving into a pool of money every night.” Particularly proud of that one, he flashed a self-satisfied grin at his partner.

And Kakuzu left it at that, willing to let Hidan uphold that childish belief if it meant he’d finally shut up.

He’d been alive for too long now to be occupied with something as meaningless as his brains idle thought processing. Most his nights were a dreamless unconsciousness that could occasionally be considered ‘resting’, and he preferred it this way. No distractions, no unnecessary ‘dream analysis’, just a cold dark embrace.

 -------------------------------

Of course, he would dream that night. Hidans idiocy must really be contagious.

Kakuzu was back home in Takigakure, on a beautiful sunny morning. He could smell the fish market not far from where he stood, and the natural high moisture in the air felt refreshing. His skin was still intact, only minor scarring here and there, childhood memories that are meant to mark you, meant to remind you of an innocent time. There was no cracking of bones or resistance of hardened skin when he moved, careful steps through the alleys he grew up in.

Passing a window, Kakuzu glanced at his reflection. Youthful eyes, and dark brown hair that was starting to brush over his shoulders. His fingers run gently over his cheeks to the corners of his mouth, as if something were missing, but he couldn’t quite place what.  

A group of children, 10 years old at the most, run past him with excited shouts and laughs. If he were to concentrate, maybe he could recall their names lingering at the tip of his tongue.

The young boy wants to follow them, as if he knew what got them excited, but he stumbles and falls and his hands burry themselves in the wet mud – The sun was just shining, why is there suddenly hard rain beating down on him? Fresh tattoos on his arm sting under contact with the rain, and he knows where he got them, suddenly remembers solitary and imprisonment and the older man who wielded the unsanitary make-shift tattoo equipment.

Lightning flashes and Kakuzu doesn’t need to look to know that blood and mud are mixing on his arms. His wet hair, now easily reaching the bottom of his shoulder blades in length, clings uncomfortably to his skin. He feels like he’s boiling alive, can feel sutures manifesting where they didn’t exist before, a phantom needle pricking along his arms and chest. It’s not mending broken skin, not trying to close festering wounds. It’s opening gateways for the bubbling heat under his skin.

Another lighting flash. His right fist is no longer buried in mud. Instead, it holds a steady grasp around a still beating heart, warm, intact, alive. He’s still at home in Takigakure but he knows it rejects him. The owner of the beating heart is a village elder who the man used to look up to, but now he’s looking down at the choking form, his last words for Kakuzus ears only, curses and banishment.

But the old man doesn’t die. His airways are flooded with his own blood, but he grabs Kakuzus neck with a strength he somehow knows he can’t overpower. He’s flipped into the mud, fist still clenched around the others beating heart, but it won’t yield. Despite the loud rain, and his own heart beating like a drum in his ears, he can hear the old mans voice crystal clear.

“Hashirama Senju should have killed you.”

His fingers grow numb.

“You could have died a hero’s death. You would have died for the village, fought till the end.”

The pressure on his windpipe increases, and his vision blurs.

“But you returned a failure. A disgusting nobody.”

His arms drop to his sides, cold and numb.

“Forever.”

 -----------------------------

Kakuzu startled awake with a gasp. His hair stuck to his forehead with cold sweat as he sat up, hands ghosting over where he had just been choked. It took a couple of deep breaths before he had regained his orientation. Rundown Inn in a Village of maybe a hundred people if he was being generous, he is a member of the Akatsuki, he’s lying in the hardest bed he has ever slept in, and Hidan is on the couch-

Hidan was on the couch, staring directly at him, eyes blown wide as if he had just witnessed the coming of whatever that ridiculous god he believed in was.

Their eye contact was long, uncomfortable, and made Kakuzus twitching fingers increasingly long to tear the other man to shreds. His partner gave him a slow nod with a questionable look, which he returned wordlessly, before he laid back down, turned away.

He didn’t get another second of sleep that night, opting instead to bite the inside of his cheek raw and thinking about various ways to silence Hidan if he dared to speak a word about what he may have seen. Maybe investing in rope wasn’t such a foolish idea.