#the song is electric love if anyone wants to know

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

Boyfriends

Based around the song Boyfriends by Harry Styles

Word count: 9,985

Content warning: fighting, cursing, mentions of alcohol and a lot of angst.

A little over two years ago

The concert was electric, every beat of the music reverberating through Y/N’s chest as she moved through the press pit with her camera. She’d already taken dozens of photos—Harry under the spotlight, interacting with the crowd, lost in the music but she knew her best work came from capturing the moments no one else saw.

As the final notes of the encore rang out, she noticed the security team starting to guide photographers toward the exit. Her mind raced. She couldn’t leave yet. Not when there was a chance to get the kind of candid shots that would set her portfolio apart from the rest of her competitors. 

She slung her camera strap tighter over her shoulder and approached one of the large security guards standing near the backstage entrance.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice steady despite her pounding heart. “I know I’m supposed to head out, but I’d really love to capture some candid shots of Harry as he comes off stage. It would tell such a story.”

The guard raised an eyebrow. “Not sure that’s allowed. Press isn’t usually permitted back there. Private.”

“Please,” Y/N insisted, her tone earnest. “I promise I won’t get in the way. Just a few quick shots, and I’ll be out of there. I promise.”

The guard hesitated, studying her for a long moment before sighing. “Fine. But if anyone asks, I didn’t see you.”

“Thank you!” she said, already slipping past him toward the backstage area.

She hurried down the dimly lit hallway, her sneakers squeaking faintly on the polished floor. The muffled roar of the crowd faded behind her, replaced by the sounds of crew members breaking down equipment and distant chatter. This is what she lived for. 

Just as she rounded a corner, the door to the stage swung open, and there he was towel slung over one shoulder, his face glowing with sweat and adrenaline. Y/N froze, momentarily stunned.

Harry’s eyes landed on her, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Well, aren’t you persistent? Must’ve made a pretty convincing case to the security team.” he said, his voice warm and teasing.

Y/N blinked, her grip tightening on her camera. “I just… I wanted to get some shots of you coming off stage. It’s where the magic happens, right?”

He chuckled, running a hand through his damp curls. “Magic, huh? I don’t know about that. Mostly sweat and bad jokes back here.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” she quipped, raising her camera slightly as if to ask for permission.

Harry tilted his head, his smile softening. “Go ahead, photographer. Show me what you’ve got.”

Y/N didn’t waste another second. 

A few weeks later 

The small Italian restaurant was tucked into a quiet corner of New York, dimly lit with candles flickering on each table. It was the kind of place where conversations were hushed, and the aroma of garlic and fresh bread filled the air. Y/N sat across from Harry, her hands wrapped around a glass of red wine, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest as he leaned back, effortlessly relaxed.

“So,” Harry began, a faint smirk on his lips. “I have to ask, do you always beg security guards to let you backstage, or was that just a one-time thing?”

Y/N laughed, her cheeks warming. “I wasn’t begging. I was persuading. There’s a difference and hey! It worked.”

“Right,” he said, drawing out the word playfully. “Well, whatever it was I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so determined to take pictures of me covered in sweat.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her amusement. “I was trying to capture the moment—the real you. Not the polished, on-stage version.”

Harry tilted his head, his gaze softening. “That’s what caught my attention, you know. I mean, I’ve had photographers at shows before, but you…  had this fire. Like you weren’t just there for the job, you cared about it.”

Y/N’s fingers traced the stem of her wine glass as she looked at him, surprised. “You noticed all that?”

“Of course,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “You were practically sprinting down the hallway to get the shot. I remember thinking, ‘Who is this girl, and why is she running so fast?’”

She laughed, trying to play it cool. “It’s my job. I just wanted to do it well.”

Harry’s smile widened. “Well, you did. The way you didn’t hesitate to push for what you wanted. Most people don’t do that around me. I liked it.”

 Y/N raised an eyebrow, her confidence returning. “And what about you? Most people would’ve just walked past me, but you stopped. Why?”

He took a sip of his wine, considering her question. “Maybe I liked the challenge. You didn’t seem fazed by all the… ‘Harry Styles’ stuff. You were just yourself. It was refreshing.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at his words, but she kept her tone light. “So, basically, you’re saying I charmed my way into your good graces?”

“Exactly,” Harry said with a grin. “And now, here we are. A photographer and her subject having pasta in a little New York restaurant. Life’s funny like that.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re crazy.”

“Maybe,” he teased, his voice low. “But I’m glad you begged that security guard. Makes for a good story.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. 

Present day

The faint sound of an alarm broke the quiet of the early morning, its persistent buzz pulling Y/N from sleep. She groaned, rolling over and burying her face into the pillow, trying to block out the noise. At the foot of the bed, her chubby orange cat, Teddy, stretched lazily, his tail flicking in mild irritation at the disturbance.

The bed shifted slightly as Harry moved beside her. She peeked one eye open to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, tugging on a pair of flare jeans. His hair was a tousled mess, and he was moving with the sluggishness of someone who hadn’t had enough coffee yet.

“Harry?” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. “Where are you going?”

He glanced back at her, already reaching for a hoodie draped over the chair. “Studio,” he said simply, his tone casual.

Y/N sat up slightly, blinking at him in confusion. “The studio? But… we were supposed to go to the market today. Remember? We talked about it all week.”

Harry froze for a moment, his hand paused mid-reach for his phone on the nightstand. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Oh, right. Sorry, love. Totally slipped my mind.”

She stared at him, the sting of his words sinking in. “You forgot?”

“It’s just been busy,” he said, his voice tinged with exasperation—not at her, but at himself. “You could still go, though. Pick up a few things for us?” He gave her a small smile, as if that would smooth things over.

Y/N frowned, leaning back against the headboard. “So, you want me to go alone? After we planned this together?”

“It’s not that I want you to,” he replied, clearly sensing her frustration. “I just can’t get out of the session. It’s important.”

Her chest tightened, the hurt creeping in despite her best efforts to brush it off. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Lately, the studio seemed to take priority over everything else.

“Right,” she said quietly, her tone laced with disappointment. “I’ll go. Don’t worry about it.”

Harry’s brows furrowed, and he stepped closer to her side of the bed. “Y/N, I’m not trying to upset you. I just need to get this done.”

She looked up at him, her expression guarded. “I know. I get it. You’re busy. It just… feels like you’re always too busy these days.”

His face softened, guilt flashing in his eyes. He opened his mouth to respond but seemed to think better of it, instead leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Y/N forced a small smile, watching as he grabbed his keys and slipped out of the room, the sound of the door clicking shut echoing in the quiet.

She let out a sigh, glancing at Teddy, who had barely stirred from his spot at the foot of the bed. “Looks like it’s just you and me today, buddy.”

Teddy let out a sleepy meow, as if in agreement, and Y/N pulled the covers closer, wondering how long she could keep pretending this didn’t bother her as much as it did.

After getting dressed and going solo to the market Y/N sat on the couch in their London apartment, absently scrolling through her phone. The soft hum of the city filtered through the windows, but inside, the space felt eerily quiet. Teddy, her ever-loyal orange cat, was curled up beside her, his rhythmic purring the only sound in the room.

For weeks now, it had been the same routine. Harry would wake up early, leaving the house before she’d even fully opened her eyes, and come home late, exhaustion etched across his features. He was always kind, always apologetic in his soft-spoken way, but the words “I’m sorry, love” were beginning to feel hollow.

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand. She did. Harry was driven, passionate about his music, and that was one of the things she loved most about him. But lately, his determination felt more like a wall between them than something to admire.

She let her phone drop onto the coffee table and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. Every time she tried to bring it up—how distant he seemed, how much she missed him—she felt silly, selfish even. His work was important, and she didn’t want to be the needy girlfriend who couldn’t handle his busy schedule.

But it hurt.

It hurt to feel like she was always the second priority, to have their plans constantly pushed aside for another recording session, another photoshoot, another promotional event. It hurt to go to bed alone and wake up to an empty side of the bed, save for Teddy’s occasional company.

She ran her hands through her hair, letting out a slow breath.

Y/N didn’t need grand gestures or romantic getaways. She didn’t need a fancy dinner or expensive gifts. She just wanted Harry—the Harry who used to stay up late talking with her about anything and everything, the Harry who’d pull her into his arms for a kiss in the middle of the kitchen, the Harry who used to make her feel like the center of his world.

But now? Now it felt like she was living with a ghost of him, someone who passed through their apartment in a blur of schedules and commitments.

Teddy shifted beside her, his big green eyes blinking up at her as if sensing her mood. She scratched behind his ears, her lips tugging into a faint smile.

“I don’t know, Ted,” she said softly. “How do you tell someone you love them, but you’re starting to hate how they make you feel?”

The cat let out a small chirp in response, and she let out a half-hearted laugh.

Y/N shook her head, trying to push the thoughts away. But deep down, she knew it was only a matter of time before everything boiled over. She could only hold it in for so long. She did what any girl would do and called her best friend for a girls night. 

Y/N paced back and forth in the kitchen, her phone pressed tightly to her ear. Teddy watched her from his spot on the counter, his tail flicking lazily as if he could feel the tension radiating from her.

“Addy, are you busy tonight?” Y/N asked, trying to keep her voice steady but failing miserably.

“Not particularly,” Addy replied, the faint clinking of dishes in the background suggesting she was doing something mundane. “Why? What’s up?”

“I need to rant,” Y/N said, letting out a heavy sigh. “Like, properly rant. Maybe cry a little. You free for a sleepover? I’ll bring wine.”

Addy didn’t hesitate. “Of course, babe. Get over here. I’ll grab the blankets and make a snack spread. You know I never say no to wine and a vent session.”

Y/N felt a small smile tug at her lips, a flicker of relief breaking through her frustration. “You’re a lifesaver, Addy. Seriously.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Addy said, her tone warm. “Now hurry up. We’ve got wine to drink and whining to do.”

Y/N laughed lightly, though her chest still felt heavy. “Be there soon.”

She hung up the call and turned to Teddy, who was now licking his paw as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Alright, buddy, you’re in charge while I’m gone,” she said, grabbing his food bowl and refilling it. Teddy let out a small meow of approval, hopping down to inspect his meal.

Y/N moved quickly, tossing a few essentials into an overnight bag: her favorite pajamas, a toothbrush, her phone charger. She grabbed the bottle of wine she’d been saving and gave Teddy one last scratch behind the ears before locking the door behind her.

The short walk to Addy’s flat was brisk and refreshing, the cold London air biting against her cheeks. She tried to let the walk clear her head, but her thoughts kept circling back to Harry, to the way things had been lately, to how exhausted she felt.

By the time she reached Addy’s building and knocked on the door, she was ready to collapse. Addy flung the door open, already in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, her face lighting up when she saw Y/N.

“There she is!” Addy exclaimed, pulling Y/N into a tight hug. “Come in, wine queen. We’ve got a couch, snacks, and a whole lot of ranting to do.”

Y/N laughed, the warmth of her best friend’s embrace melting away some of the weight she’d been carrying. “You have no idea how much I need this.”

“Trust me, I do,” Addy said, ushering her inside. “Now, start from the beginning, and don’t leave anything out.”

As Y/N sank into the couch, wine glass in hand and Addy by her side, she felt a flicker of hope that maybe—just maybe—she could figure this out. But for now, she was grateful to have someone who would listen without judgment. Someone who just got it.

The first glass of wine went down smoothly, maybe too smoothly. Y/N poured herself another before Addy even finished her first, and by the time they’d gotten halfway through the second bottle, the conversation had turned raw and unfiltered.

Y/N leaned back into the couch, her cheeks flushed—not just from the wine, but from the surge of emotions she’d been bottling up for weeks. She swirled the last bit of wine in her glass and sighed.

“I don’t even know why I’m so upset anymore,” she said, her voice tight. “It’s not like it’s new. Harry’s been… distant. Detached. Nonchalant, even. Like, I could’ve told him I was leaving tonight, and I swear he wouldn’t have noticed.”

Addy frowned, pulling her knees up onto the couch. “Are you serious? He didn’t even ask where you were going?”

Y/N shook her head, letting out a bitter laugh. “Nope. He probably assumed I’d just be home when he got back—like always. That’s the thing, Addy. He doesn’t notice anything anymore. It’s like I’m… invisible to him.”

Addy’s brows furrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Y/N, that’s not okay. You’re not a piece of furniture. You’re his girlfriend. He should be noticing you.”

Y/N stared at her glass, her voice quieter now. “We barely even talk anymore. It’s all ‘Sorry, love, the studio ran late,’ or ‘Can you handle this for me?’ It’s like I’m his roommate, not his partner. And the worst part?” She swallowed hard, her chest tightening. “We haven’t been… close. Like, at all. No hugs, no kisses, no… sex. It’s been weeks, Addy. I don’t even know if he wants me anymore.”

Addy’s mouth fell open. “You’re joking.”

“I wish I was,” Y/N muttered, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. “And I’ve tried, you know? I’ve dropped hints, I’ve made plans, I’ve even dressed up when he’s home just to get his attention. But it’s like he’s so caught up in everything else that I’m… I’m not even on his radar.”

Addy put her wine glass down and scooted closer, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. “Hey, listen to me. This isn’t about you. Harry is clearly drowning in his own world, and he’s taking you for granted. That’s on him—it’s just what boys do.”

Y/N leaned her head against Addy’s shoulder, her voice breaking. “I just miss him. I miss us. The way we used to be, you know? When we’d spend hours talking, when he’d grab me and kiss me just because. I miss feeling like I mattered to him.”

Addy tightened her hold, her voice firm. “You do matter, Y/N. He’s just too wrapped up in himself to see it right now. But you deserve better than this—better than feeling like you’re waiting around for scraps of his time.”

Y/N sniffed, her tears finally spilling over. “I don’t even know how to talk to him about it without feeling like I’m nagging. What if he’s just… over it? Over me?”

Addy pulled back slightly, looking Y/N in the eyes. “If he’s over it, then he’s a bloody idiot. But you need to talk to him, Y/N. You can’t keep holding all this in. It’s going to eat you alive.”

Y/N nodded slowly, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. “You’re right. I just… I’m scared, Addy. What if I say something, and it doesn’t change anything?”

“Then you’ll know where you stand,” Addy said softly. “And you can decide what’s next. But no matter what, I’ve got you. Always.”

Y/N managed a small smile, her heart aching but lighter knowing she didn’t have to face this alone. For tonight, though, she let herself sink into the comfort of her best friend and another glass of wine, the weight of her worries just a little easier to bear.

The morning light filtered through the thin curtains in Addy’s living room, waking Y/N from a restless sleep. The pull-out couch wasn’t exactly luxurious, but after the wine and emotional exhaustion from the night before, she hadn’t cared.

She rubbed her eyes and reached for her phone on the coffee table, squinting at the screen. A notification from Harry stared back at her, and her heart sank as she opened the text.

Harry:

Would’ve been nice if you told me you weren’t coming home last night.

The words were short and clipped, and Y/N could almost feel the passive-aggressive undertone seeping through. She stared at the screen for a moment, a mix of guilt and frustration bubbling up in her chest.

“Seriously?” she muttered under her breath, sitting up and running a hand through her hair.

Teddy’s bowl had been full, the apartment was clean, and it wasn’t like she had disappeared without a trace. But still, Harry managed to make her feel like she was the one in the wrong.

She typed out a response, her fingers hesitating for a moment before hitting send.

Y/N:

I stayed at Addy’s. I forgot to let you know. Sorry.

She tossed the phone onto the cushion beside her and let out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the couch. Her chest tightened with the familiar ache that had been building for weeks.

“Everything okay?” Addy’s voice came from the kitchen. She appeared moments later, a mug of coffee in hand, still in her pajamas.

Y/N looked up and gave her a weak smile. “Harry texted me. He’s annoyed I didn’t tell him I wasn’t coming home.”

Addy raised an eyebrow as she handed Y/N the coffee. “He’s annoyed? The same Harry who’s been barely speaking to you and blowing off plans left and right?”

Y/N shrugged, wrapping her hands around the warm mug. “Yeah, that Harry.”

Addy flopped onto the armchair across from her. “Honestly, I don’t know whether to laugh or scream. He has no right to guilt-trip you after how he’s been acting. He sure knows how to get under your skin.”

Y/N sighed, taking a sip of her coffee. “I don’t think he meant to guilt-trip me. It’s just… I don’t know, Addy. Everything feels so off between us. Even little things like this turn into a thing.”

“Because he’s not giving you what you need,” Addy said bluntly. “You wouldn’t feel this way if he was showing up for you. Instead, he’s putting all this effort into everything else and leaving you with scraps. It’s not fair, Y/N.”

Y/N bit her lip, staring down at the coffee in her hands. “I know it’s not fair. But I still love him, Addy. I just… don’t know how to fix this.”

Addy leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You shouldn’t have to fix this alone, babe. He’s your partner. He should be just as invested in making things work. If he’s not, that’s on him, not you.”

Y/N nodded, but the knot in her stomach didn’t ease. She glanced at her phone again, tempted to say more, but decided against it. Instead she got herself together and said goodbye to Addy before making the short trip back to her home. 

Y/N unlocked the door to her apartment, still groggy and in her pajamas, her head pounding from last night’s wine. She stepped inside and was greeted by Teddy, who meowed loudly as if scolding her for being gone.

“Morning, Teddy,” she muttered, bending down to scratch his head before kicking off her shoes.

When she looked up, she froze. Harry was sitting on the couch, legs crossed, his phone in his hand. It was rare to see him home at this hour, and for a moment, she was too surprised to say anything.

He glanced up at her, his expression unreadable. “Nice of you to finally come home,” he said, his voice calm but with a cutting edge. “I thought maybe we could’ve done something today, but you were gone and by the looks of it, hungover.”

Y/N blinked at him, her exhaustion giving way to irritation. “Are you serious right now?”

Harry leaned back into the couch, raising an eyebrow. “What? I’m just saying, it would’ve been nice to know where you were.”

Her frustration boiled over, the tension that had been building for weeks finally snapping. “Oh, you mean like all the times we made plans, and you bailed on me? Is that what you’re talking about, Harry? Because if we’re keeping track, you’ve canceled on me more times than I can count.”

Harry rolled his eyes, his tone dismissive. “Here we go again.”

“No, seriously,” Y/N said, her voice rising. “Do you have any idea how it feels to be constantly put second? To have you forget about us because you’re busy with your career? And then you have the nerve to act like I’m the one in the wrong because I stayed at Addy’s for one night?”

Harry set his phone down, looking at her with a mix of annoyance and exasperation. “I don’t have time for this right now. You’re blowing things out of proportion. I’m working hard and you’re acting selfish.”

Y/N stared at him, her mouth falling open. “Selfish? Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve been here, Harry. I picked up my life and moved here. To be with you. To be close to you. I am here waiting for you, supporting you, picking up the pieces of this relationship while you put me on the back burner. And now I’m selfish because I’m upset that you don’t seem to care anymore?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening. “I never said I didn’t care. But I can’t drop everything just to make you happy. I have obligations, Y/N. I thought you understood that.”

“I do understand,” she snapped, her voice trembling. “But what about your obligation to me? Or does that not matter anymore?”

The room fell silent, her words hanging in the air like a challenge. Harry looked at her, his expression softening just slightly, as if he hadn’t realized how deep the cracks had gotten.

Y/N swallowed hard, her voice quieter now. “I’m not asking you to drop everything, Harry. I’m asking you to show me that I matter to you. That we matter, even if it’s only for a few hours.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond but hesitated, the weight of her words settling over him. For the first time in weeks, he didn’t have a quick answer, and that silence spoke louder than anything he could’ve said.

With that, she turned and walked toward the bedroom, leaving Harry sitting on the couch. 

Y/N scooped Teddy up on her way to the bedroom, the orange fluffball letting out a small chirp of protest before settling into her arms. She pressed her face into his fur, taking comfort in his warmth as she turned back to look at Harry, still sitting on the couch.

“Well,” she said bitterly, her voice carrying just enough to make her point, “at least Teddy will spend time with me.”

Harry didn’t respond, his face unreadable as she turned away and headed down the hallway. She pushed open the bedroom door, setting Teddy down gently on the bed. He immediately curled up in his usual spot, his tail flicking as Y/N climbed in beside him.

Pulling the blankets around her, she stared up at the ceiling, her thoughts swirling. The fight had drained her, but her mind wouldn’t stop replaying everything—Harry’s dismissive tone, the way he had rolled his eyes at her, the frustration and sadness that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her chest.

She closed her eyes, willing herself to think of something better, something good. Slowly, her thoughts drifted to the earlier days of their relationship, when everything felt effortless and magical.

Like the time Harry had surprised her with a trip to Disneyland Paris.

She smiled faintly at the memory, her heart aching with nostalgia. It had been just over a year into their relationship, and she’d mentioned in passing one night how she’d always dreamed of going but never had the chance. She hadn’t thought much of it—just another drowsy late-night conversation between them—but Harry had clearly been paying attention.

He’d woken her up early one morning, a mischievous grin on his face. “Pack a bag,” he’d said, barely able to contain his excitement. “We’re going on an adventure.”

She’d laughed, confused but thrilled as he refused to give her any details. It wasn’t until they were at the airport, with two tickets to Paris in his hand, that she realized what he had planned.

“You didn’t,” she had whispered, staring at him in disbelief.

“I did,” he’d replied, his grin widening. “What’s the point of dreaming if you don’t make it happen?”

The trip had been everything she’d hoped for and more. They’d spent the days running from ride to ride, indulging in too many churros, and taking pictures in front of the castle. He’d bought her a pair of Minnie Mouse ears, which she’d worn the entire time despite teasing him for wearing his matching Mickey ears.

And at night, under the glow of the fireworks, he’d wrapped his arms around her and kissed her like they were the only two people in the world.

It was one of the most thoughtful, romantic things anyone had ever done for her, and it had cemented her belief that Harry was someone special—someone who truly saw her.

Now, lying in bed, those memories felt like they belonged to a different time, a different version of them. She glanced down at Teddy, who had dozed off at her side, his soft purring filling the silence.

“How did we get here, Ted?” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Teddy didn’t respond, of course, but his presence was steady, a small comfort in the midst of her swirling emotions.

She rolled onto her side, clutching a pillow to her chest as tears silently slipped down her cheeks. She missed the Harry from those days—the one who surprised her with trips, who laughed with her over burnt pancakes, who made her feel like the center of his world.

Y/N stirred slightly when she heard the quiet creak of the bedroom door opening. She kept her eyes closed, her breathing steady, even as she felt the bed shift under Harry’s weight. He laid down beside her, the mattress dipping slightly as he settled in.

The faint scent of alcohol hit her almost immediately, making her chest tighten. Her eyes opened just a fraction, though she remained on her side, facing away from him. Had he been drinking?

Her heart sank further. Of course, he had every right to do what he wanted—he was an adult, after all. And after the way she’d walked home hungover this morning, she didn’t exactly have the moral high ground to say anything about it.

But still.

The thought of him out, drinking alone or with people who weren’t her, only deepened the ache that had been gnawing at her all day. It wasn’t about the drinking itself—it was about the growing distance between them, the choices they both seemed to be making that pushed them further apart.

She lay there in silence, staring at the faint shadows dancing across the wall. Part of her wanted to roll over, to ask him where he’d been or why he smelled like tequila. But another part of her—the tired, frustrated, heartbroken part—couldn’t muster the energy for another confrontation.

Instead, she stayed still, her hand resting gently on Teddy’s fur as he purred softly in his sleep. She could feel Harry’s presence beside her, close enough to touch, yet it felt like there was an ocean between them.

After a moment, she heard him exhale deeply, the bed shifting slightly as he adjusted his position. She wondered if he was awake, if he was thinking about the fight they’d had earlier, if he even realized how much she missed him.

But no words came. The silence stretched between them, heavy and unyielding.

The next morning, Y/N forced herself out of bed despite the heaviness that still lingered from the night before. Teddy trailed behind her as she shuffled around the apartment, gathering her gear for the day’s photo shoots. She threw on a comfortable outfit, pulled her hair into a loose bun, and grabbed her camera bag, trying to shake off the lingering ache in her chest.

Photography had always been her escape. It didn’t matter if she was capturing sweaty concerts or snapping portraits of families; behind the lens, she felt purposeful. Grounded.

The day passed quickly as she moved between locations, her subjects ranging from a young couple celebrating an anniversary to a family of five with a rambunctious toddler. She smiled, laughed, and gave her all to each session, momentarily forgetting the tension waiting for her at home.

When the shoots were done, she wandered the streets of London, her camera still slung over her shoulder. The city was alive with people, the winter air crisp as she strolled past cafés and flower shops. She pretended to savor her independence, stopping to snap a few shots of the bustling streets, but the nagging loneliness in her chest was impossible to ignore.

By the time she returned home, the sun had set, and the apartment was dark and quiet. She dropped her bag by the door, kicking off her shoes as Teddy padded over to greet her.

“Hey, buddy,” she murmured, scooping him up for a quick cuddle. The silence in the apartment felt heavier than usual, and she sighed as she put him down and reached for her phone.

She typed out a quick text to Harry:

Y/N:

Hey, are you going to be home for dinner? I was thinking of ordering Chinese.

She stared at the screen for a moment, willing the typing bubble to appear. But it didn’t. After a few minutes, she gave up and placed the order anyway, opting for her usual dishes.

By the time the food arrived, Harry still hadn’t responded. She ate quietly at the table, Teddy perched on a nearby chair, his curious gaze following every bite.

It wasn’t until later that night that she heard the front door open. Harry walked in, his jacket slung over one arm and his keys jangling in his hand. She turned to look at him from the couch, immediately catching the faint scent of alcohol.

“Hey,” she said softly, trying to keep her voice even. “I texted you earlier. I was going to order Chinese. Thought maybe we could eat together.”

Harry glanced at her, his expression neutral. “I was with the band,” he said, his tone casual as he set his keys on the counter.

Her chest tightened. “I would’ve liked to come out with you,” she said, standing up and crossing her arms. “It’s been ages since we’ve done something together, Harry.”

He looked at her, an edge of defensiveness in his eyes. “It wasn’t a big deal, Y/N. Just me and the guys. You wouldn’t have wanted to sit around and listen to us talk about music all night.”

Her frustration bubbled to the surface. “You don’t know that! You didn’t even ask. I would’ve loved to just… be there with you. Spend time with you.”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not like I’m trying to exclude you. I just—”

“You just don’t think about me anymore,” she interrupted, her voice quieter now but no less hurt. “Do you even realize how lonely it’s been, Harry? You come home late, you barely talk to me, and now you’re out drinking with the band while I’m here eating takeout by myself.”

He stared at her, his jaw tightening. “I’m doing the best I can, Y/N. You think this is easy for me?”

“No, Harry, I don’t think it’s easy,” she shot back. “But it’s not supposed to be just you. It’s supposed to be us. And lately, it feels like I’m the only one trying to hold onto that.”

The silence that followed was deafening. He looked away, his lips pressed into a thin line, and she felt the familiar ache in her chest grow heavier.

Without another word, she turned and headed toward the bedroom as she had been night after night, and of course with Teddy trailing behind her. 

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands, trying to steady the rush of emotions building inside her. Teddy rubbed against her legs, offering silent comfort, but her chest still felt impossibly heavy. She heard Harry’s footsteps approaching and tensed, unsure if she had the energy for yet another argument.

When the door opened, she glanced up to see him standing in the doorway, his hand gripping the frame. For a moment, she thought he might apologize—finally acknowledge the hurt he’d been causing her.

But instead, his tone was sharp. “You’re always making this about you, Y/N. Do you ever stop to think about the pressure I’m under? Or is it just easier to sit here and point fingers or bitch at me?”

Her jaw dropped, the sting of his words hitting harder than she expected. “Are you serious right now?” she asked, her voice trembling with both anger and disbelief. “Did you come in here just to insult me?”

Harry’s expression shifted, the fire in his eyes dimming as her words seemed to sink in. His shoulders slumped slightly, and he ran a hand through his hair. “No,” he said quietly, his voice faltering. “That’s not… I didn’t mean it like that.”

“But you said it,” she replied, her tone cold as she stood and faced him. “If you’re under so much pressure, why don’t you talk to me about it instead of shutting me out and turning to alcohol? Why am I the one who has to sit here, waiting, wondering if you even care anymore?”

Harry looked at her, guilt flashing across his face, but he didn’t have an answer. His silence spoke volumes.

Y/N nodded slowly, her mind made up in that moment. She couldn’t keep living like this, caught in the limbo of his neglect and her own heartache. “You know what? I think I need some space. I think weneed some space.”

His brows furrowed, his lips parting as if to argue, but she cut him off.

“I’m going to fly home and spend some time with my family,” she said, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest. “You need to figure out what you really want, Harry. Because this—” she gestured between them—“this isn’t working. And it’s not just on me to fix it.”

Harry hesitated, his expression torn. “You don’t have to—”

“No,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “I do. And you need to do some real soul searching while I’m gone. Drinking in secret, shutting me out… that’s not going to help you or our failing relationship. You can’t keep running from whatever it is that’s eating away at you.”

He didn’t protest, didn’t argue. Instead, he simply nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor.

The lack of resistance stung more than she cared to admit, but it also solidified her decision. If he wasn’t willing to fight for them, she couldn’t keep fighting alone.

Y/N took a deep breath, stepping past him and grabbing her suitcase from the closet. As she started packing, she felt a strange mix of sadness and relief.

The next morning, Y/N woke up with a knot in her stomach. The decision she had made the night before still felt right, but that didn’t make it any easier. She moved through the motions quietly, packing her suitcase and making sure Teddy had enough room in his carrier. The orange fluffball meowed pitifully as she zipped him inside, his big eyes watching her with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“I know, buddy,” she said softly, rubbing a hand over the top of the carrier. “We need this. Trust me.”

The cab ride to the airport was quiet, the city slipping past in a blur. She avoided looking at her phone, unwilling to see if Harry had texted or called. She doubted he had.

Hours later, she landed in upstate New York, the cold January air biting at her as she stepped outside the small airport. Her cousin Mia was already there, leaning against her car, arms crossed and a scarf wrapped snugly around her neck.

As soon as Y/N walked over, dragging her suitcase and holding Teddy’s carrier, Mia’s sharp gaze zeroed in on her. “Okay, spill. What the fuck happened? And why did you just up and leave your international pop star boyfriend?”

Y/N sighed, her breath fogging in the icy air as she loaded Teddy into the backseat. “Can we maybe not do this in the parking lot?”

“Nope.” Mia slammed the trunk shut after tossing in Y/N’s suitcase and leaned against the car door, refusing to budge. “You flew across the Atlantic with your cat. That screams big drama, and I need the tea, like, yesterday.”

Y/N groaned, running a hand through her hair as she leaned against the car next to Mia. “It’s complicated, okay?”

“It always is,” Mia replied, her tone both sarcastic and supportive. “But I’m gonna need more than that. Did he cheat? Is he secretly married? What’s the deal?”

Y/N shot her a glare. “No, nothing like that. He’s just… he’s been distant. Forgetting plans, working all the time, barely talking to me. It’s like I don’t even exist to him anymore.”

Mia tilted her head, studying her cousin. “Okay, so he’s an idiot. Got it. But why leave? Why not just, I don’t know, call him out on his bullshit?”

“I did,” Y/N said, her voice cracking slightly. “I tried, Mia. I tried so many times. And last night, he…” She paused, swallowing hard. “He came home smelling like alcohol again, and when I told him I would’ve liked to go out with him, he said it wasn’t a big deal, like I didn’t matter. And then he had the nerve to call me selfish when I got upset.”

Mia’s jaw dropped, and she raised a hand. “Oh, hell no. He did not.”

Y/N nodded, her chest tightening as the memory of the fight replayed in her mind. “So, I told him I needed space. That I was coming home for a bit, and he needed to figure out what he wants. And he just… let me go.”

Mia let out a long whistle, shaking her head. “Okay, first of all, good for you for leaving. Second of all, what an absolute dumbass. Like, I’m sure he’s charming and hot and whatever, but damn, girl, he doesn’t deserve you acting like this.”

Y/N let out a small laugh despite herself. “You don’t even know him.”

“I don’t need to know him,” Mia said with a shrug. “I know you. And if he’s making you feel like shit, then he’s not doing his job as your boyfriend.”

Y/N nodded, her heart feeling a little lighter for the first time in days. “Thanks, Mia.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Mia said, opening the car door. “We’re gonna fix this. Either he pulls his head out of his ass, or we find you a hot new boyfriend who actually knows how to treat you right. Deal?”

Y/N smiled, climbing into the passenger seat. “Deal.”

As Mia started the car and pulled out of the lot, Y/N leaned back in her seat, gazing out at the snowy landscape. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she was exactly where she needed to be.

Over the next few weeks, Y/N poured herself into rediscovering the things she loved, the parts of herself that had been lost in the haze of her strained relationship. She spent her days hiking the trails of upstate New York, taking in the crisp air and breathtaking views, her camera always in tow. At night, she indulged in greasy slices of pizza from her favorite childhood spot, the simple comfort of it reminding her of easier times.

She found herself smiling more, laughing louder, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was living for herself again. The weight that had pressed on her chest back in London had begun to lift, replaced with a growing sense of independence and self-assurance.

One night, Mia announced that it was time for a proper girls’ night out. “You’ve been hiking and taking artsy photos long enough,” Mia teased, rummaging through Y/N’s suitcase. “We’re hitting the clubs tonight. You, me, and some dangerously overpriced cocktails.”

Y/N laughed, watching as Mia held up a dress she hadn’t worn in months. “I don’t know, Mia. I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of scene again.”

Mia rolled her eyes, tossing the dress at her. “Nonsense. You need this. Trust me.”

Hours later, Y/N found herself in a crowded club, the bass thumping so hard she could feel it in her chest. She’d forgotten how freeing it felt to just let go, to dance without a care in the world, the swirl of neon lights and the buzz of tequila making everything feel lighter.

Mia kept her entertained with her usual wit, sharing hilarious, sometimes borderline chaotic stories about her own life. Y/N laughed until her sides hurt, her worries melting away with every sip of her drink.

“Okay, okay,” Mia said, holding up her hands as they stood by the bar for a breather. “You remember that guy I told you about—the one with the weird obsession with his bonsai trees?”

Y/N snorted into her drink. “How could I forget?”

“Well,” Mia continued, leaning in conspiratorially, “turns out he didn’t just have bonsai trees. He had dollhouses. Like, full-on, hand-painted dollhouses. I walked into his apartment, and it was like stepping into a miniaturized version of my nightmare.”

Y/N burst out laughing, nearly spilling her drink. “You’re kidding!”

“I wish I was,” Mia said with a dramatic sigh. “Anyway, that’s why I’ve sworn off dating guys who call themselves ‘artists.’”

The two of them dissolved into laughter, the kind of deep, genuine laughter that made Y/N’s cheeks ache. She hadn’t felt this carefree in months.

As the night went on, Y/N found herself dancing again, her body moving instinctively to the rhythm of the music. She felt alive, untethered, and—for the first time in a long time—free.

Mia nudged her at one point, grinning mischievously. “See? I told you this was a good idea.”

Y/N nodded, her smile wide as she looked around the room. “Yeah. You were right. I needed this.”

And in that moment, as she twirled on the dance floor with her best friend cousin by her side, she realized that she was falling in love again—not with someone else, but with herself.

The morning light streamed through the windows as Y/N stood over the stove, flipping bacon while Mia chopped fruit at the counter. The apartment smelled of coffee and breakfast, the comforting sounds of sizzling and light chatter filling the space.

A sudden knock at the door broke the rhythm.

Both girls froze, glancing at each other. “You expecting anyone?” Y/N asked, eyebrows raised.

“Nope,” Mia replied, setting the knife down. “Probably Amazon or maybe bonsai guy finally returning to plead his case.” She smirked and tossed the dish towel over her shoulder.

“Go see who it is,” Y/N said, flipping the bacon. “And hurry back before this burns.”

“On it.” Mia walked to the door, muttering about early-morning interruptions as she swung it open.

She froze, her hand gripping the door, her mouth falling open. “Holy fuck,” she said, her voice loud and full of shock.

“What?” Y/N called, turning away from the stove, confused by Mia’s tone. “Who is it?”

When Mia didn’t answer, Y/N wiped her hands on her pajama pants and walked toward the door. Her heart started to race, a strange tension settling in her chest.

As she reached the entryway, she saw him.

Harry.

He stood there in the hallway, looking slightly disheveled, his hair messy, his coat hanging open. His expression was a mix of determination and something softer, something that made Y/N’s breath catch in her throat.

Their eyes met, and for a long moment, the world seemed to stop.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of everything left unsaid.

She froze, her hands still at her sides, her mind racing as she tried to process the fact that he was here—standing on the doorstep of Mia’s apartment in upstate New York.

From the kitchen, Mia called out, “Do I keep the bacon going, or are we about to have a soap opera moment?”

But Y/N didn’t respond. Her eyes stayed locked on Harry, her chest tightening as she waited for him to say something more.

Y/N’s shock quickly gave way to a mix of confusion and irritation as she stared at Harry, standing there like he belonged on her cousin’s doorstep in the middle of upstate New York. Her arms crossed instinctively, and she narrowed her eyes.

“What are you doing here, Harry?” she asked, her tone sharper than she intended. “How did you even find me?”

He shifted on his feet, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat. “You still had your location on,” he said simply, his voice calm. Y/n felt a little dumb for not realizing she forgot to turn that off. Even then, he had connections and could’ve easily found out where she was. 

Y/N’s jaw dropped, her confusion boiling with frustration. “You tracked me?”

“You didn’t answer my calls or texts and your phone went straight to voicemail,” he replied, his voice soft but steady. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, anger bubbling up. “If you’re here to try and convince me to come home. I’m not going back.”

“I’m not asking you to come home,” he said quietly, meeting her gaze. “I just want to talk. That’s all.”

She stared at him, searching his face for any sign of an ulterior motive, her mind racing. Before she could respond, Mia’s voice cut through the tense silence.

“Y/N, for the love of God, if you’re going to yell at him, do it outside,” Mia called from the kitchen, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “I have neighbors, and I don’t want them thinking we’re hosting some kind of reality TV reunion in here.”

Y/N clenched her jaw, letting out a frustrated breath as she glanced back at Mia, who was leaning against the counter, arms crossed with an amused expression.

“Fine,” Y/N muttered, turning back to Harry. She grabbed her coat from the hook by the door and stepped outside, letting the door click shut behind her. The cold air bit at her cheeks, but she barely noticed as she faced Harry again.

The cold morning air hung around them as they walked down the quiet, woodsy street, the crunch of gravel under their shoes the only sound at first. Y/N kept her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her jaw clenched as she waited for Harry to speak. He walked beside her, his hands shoved into his coat pockets, his head slightly bowed.

Finally, after a few minutes, he broke the silence. “I royally fucked up,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I took you for granted, Y/N. I thought… I thought you’d always be there, no matter how much I messed up, no matter how distant I got. And that was wrong.”

His words lingered in the crisp air, but Y/N didn’t respond. She kept her eyes ahead, her steps brisk and determined.

When he didn’t say more, she stopped abruptly and turned to him, her voice sharp with frustration and hurt. “You’re right it was wrong, Harry. Do you even realize how much you’ve hurt me? How lonely I’ve felt these past few months?”

Harry stopped too, his gaze dropping to the ground.

Y/N took a deep breath, her words spilling out in a torrent. “You’ve been more intimate with the studio than you’ve been with me. Do you know how humiliating it is to feel like you’re competing with someone’s job? To watch you pour your passion into everything else?”

His shoulders tensed, but he didn’t interrupt.

“And the worst part,” she continued, her voice breaking, “is that I thought… I thought we were heading toward something real, Harry. I thought maybe you’d propose soon, that we’d start building a life together or a family. But now? Now it feels like we’re just heading for a breakup.”

Her words hung heavy between them, the raw honesty of her pain hitting like a punch to the gut. Harry finally looked up, his expression anguished, but he still didn’t speak.

“You didn’t even fight for me when I left,” Y/N said, her voice quieter now but no less hurt. “You just let me go, like it didn’t matter. Like I didn’t matter.”

“I—” he started, but she held up a hand.

“No. Don’t say anything yet. Just… listen.”

He nodded silently, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.

“I love you,” she said, her voice trembling. “But I can’t keep doing this if you’re not going to meet me halfway. And if you can’t give me that, then maybe we shouldn’t be together.”

The words came out heavier than she expected, the weight of them settling in her chest as she stared at him. For the first time since they’d started walking, Harry’s eyes locked on hers, a mix of guilt and something else—something she couldn’t quite place—flickering in his gaze.

But he didn’t interrupt. He just stood there, listening, the gravity of her words sinking in. And for once, Y/N felt like he truly heard her.

Harry shifted uncomfortably on his feet, his hands still buried deep in his coat pockets. He looked at her, his jaw tightening for a moment before he let out a long breath.

“I don’t really know what to say,” he admitted quietly, his voice heavy with guilt. “Except that I’m sorry. For all of it.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes slightly, her arms still crossed as she waited for more. She wasn’t ready to let him off the hook so easily.

He looked away, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been… I’ve been a bloody idiot, Y/N. I didn’t realize how much I was messing this up until you left. And even then, I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I’d already lost you.”

Her chest tightened, but she didn’t speak. She wanted him to get it all out.

“So, I—” He hesitated, his cheeks reddening slightly as he looked back at her. “I talked to my mum.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “You talked to your mum about us?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t know who else to go to. She called me clueless—which, fair enough—but she also gave me some advice.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching despite her frustration. “Oh, yeah? What’d she say?”

Harry’s gaze softened, his voice dropping. “She told me to stop thinking about what’s easy for me and start thinking about what’s right for us. She said if I couldn’t figure out how to show you how much you mean to me, then I don’t deserve to have you in my life.”

Y/N stared at him, her heart twisting at the honesty in his voice.

“She also told me I’m a terrible communicator,” he added with a faint, self-deprecating smile. “And that I’ve probably made you feel like shit more than once without even realizing it.”

“Well, she’s not wrong,” Y/N said, her voice tinged with both irritation and something softer.

Harry nodded, his expression serious again. “I don’t expect you to forgive me right away, Y/N. I know I’ve got a lot to make up for. But I’m here because I don’t want to lose you. I want to be better—for you, for us. I just… I need a chance to prove it.”

She stood there, the cold air biting at her cheeks as she searched his face. There was something different about him now, something that felt raw and unguarded. She wasn’t sure if it was enough, but for the first time in weeks, she felt like he was truly seeing her.

She didn’t reply right away, letting his words hang in the air as she turned them over in her mind. Finally, she sighed and looked down at the ground. “You’ve got a lot to prove, Harry. And I’m not going to make it easy for you.”

His lips curved into the faintest smile. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair as the tension in her shoulders began to ease. She looked at Harry, his eyes still searching hers with an intensity that made her heart twist. Despite everything, despite the hurt and frustration, she couldn’t deny how much she missed him.

“I really missed you,” she admitted softly, her voice trembling just enough to make him lean closer. “Even when I was mad at you—even when I thought I couldn’t stand the sight of you—all I wanted to do was just… jump on you and kiss you. Hug you.”

Harry’s lips parted slightly, a flicker of surprise and relief washing over his face. “You mean that?”

“Of course, I do,” she said, a small, rueful smile tugging at her lips. “I love you, Harry. That’s why this hurt so much. You’ve always been my person, and for a while there, I didn’t feel like yours anymore.”

His face softened, and he took a tentative step closer, his voice low. “You are, Y/N. You’ll always be my person. I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t.”

The sincerity in his voice melted the last of her defenses, and she let out a shaky laugh, wiping at her eyes. “You’re so lucky I love you. But you better believe I’m going to make you work for it.”

“I’m ready,” Harry said with a soft smile.

Y/N tilted her head, her smile widening as a thought crossed her mind. “You know, I’m a little embarrassed now.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

“Because,” she said, letting out a laugh, “I have to go back inside and tell Mia that we made up. And trust me, she was rooting for full-blown drama. She’s probably already drafting a speech about why I should dump you.”

Harry chuckled, his first genuine laugh of the morning. “Think she’ll let me stay for breakfast, or is that asking too much?”

Y/N smirked, shaking her head. “Don’t push your luck. But if you charm her enough, she might give you a piece of bacon.”

“Well, I’m pretty good at charming people,” he teased, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around her.

Y/N rolled her eyes but leaned into him, finally letting herself relax in his embrace. She rested her head against his chest, inhaling his familiar scent, and for the first time in weeks, she felt like things might actually be okay.

“Come on,” she said after a moment, pulling back slightly. “Let’s go face the dragon.”

Harry grinned, threading his fingers through hers. “Lead the way.”

As they approached the house, Y/N noticed a familiar figure standing in the window. Mia was leaning against the sill, a mug of coffee in her hands, her face a mix of amusement and curiosity as she stared out at them.

“Looks like she’s already got commentary locked and loaded,” Y/N muttered, glancing at Harry with a smirk.

“Should I be scared?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Always,” Y/N replied with a grin.

When they stepped onto the porch, Mia was already opening the door, one hand still clutching her coffee. She looked them over, her eyes flicking between Y/N’s flushed face and Harry’s sheepish expression.

“So,” Mia began, drawing out the word with a smirk. “I’m guessing you two worked it out, considering the lack of yelling and door slamming.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Yeah, we talked. You’re not getting the drama you were hoping for.”

Mia shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. “Honestly? I’m kind of happy. As much as I love you, Y/N, I also really love walking around my house in my underwear. Having you here has seriously cramped my vibe.”

Harry stifled a laugh as Y/N gawked at her cousin. “Oh, my God, Mia!”

“What?” Mia said, grinning as she stepped aside to let them in. “I’m just saying, you two reconciling works out for everyone. Love wins, and I get my space back. It’s a win-win.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing as she stepped into the house with Harry following behind. “You’re impossible.”

“That’s why you love me,” Mia said with a wink, heading back to the kitchen. “Now, who’s hungry? And Harry, if you’re sticking around, you better pull your weight. Bacon doesn’t flip itself, pop star.”

Y/N glanced at Harry, who was clearly trying not to laugh as he hung up his coat. “Welcome to the family,” she said with a grin.

“Thanks,” Harry replied, leaning closer to whisper, “I think I’m more scared of Mia than I was of losing you.”

Y/N smacked his arm playfully, but the smile on her face lingered as they followed Mia to the kitchen. 

[straylightdream]

king of my heart

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: jeon wonwoo x f.reader

↳ I'm perfectly fine, I live on my own. I made up my mind, I'm better off being alone. We met a few weeks ago. Now you try on callin' me "baby" like tryin' on clothes

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: soulmates au?, non idol au

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.2k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: so much fluff, they’re both so incredibly down bad for each other, wonwoo rides a motorcycle (I don’t know if that’s a warning), smut warning below the cut

𝐚𝐧: my next story for SVT inspired by reputation songs by taylor swift. This is part of a loosely connecting series called “all for you” you can absolutely just read this as one shot. Vernon’s story is coming soon about him and his girl that’s mentions.

part two

if you would like to be tagged please fill out this form.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, big dick wonwoo, breeding kink, cum play, cum eating, body worship, breast play (wonwoo is boob obsessed), praise kink, glasses kink?(mc gets really turned on by wonwoo glasses), nicknames: baby (both)

It all felt like a whirlwind meeting him. You had lived your life mostly alone. You had moved to the city after college away from your family. You were heavily focused on your career. You had lived alone for the last two years and never even tried dating.

You met Wonwoo on a Friday night when a couple of coworkers convinced you to go out with them. You couldn’t say no to Mingyu when he practically begged you to join him and his friends. You and Mingyu worked for a publishing house.

Something tells you Mingyu wanted to set you up with Wonwoo all along. The moment you were introduced you were drawn to him. He’s so handsome and charming. You shared an instant connection with him you had never shared with anyone before.

Since that first night you met you couldn’t stop thinking about the boy with glasses. You went on your first date after only knowing each other for two days. He took you on a sunset picnic by the river. You instantly realized you had a lot in common but you were also quite different, but in a good way. That night was the first night you rode on his motorcycle. You never knew you could be so attracted to a man who rode a motorcycle before him. He took you home walking you up to your apartment. You had no issues with sleeping together on your first date, but Wonwoo said he wanted to wait a little. He said the anticipation of what’s to come will make it worth it. So that night with you pressed up against your front door you shared a heated kiss goodbye.

It’s only been two months and you can’t get enough of him. He still gives you butterflies and his touch feels electric. You spend almost every day with him one way or another.

His body is plastered behind yours as you lay on your side. His hand grips your soft stomach as he slowly thrust into you. This has been a normal way you’ve been waking up with him. You found out very early on that Wonwoo is quite fond of morning sex. Waking up with Wonwoo erection poking your stomach gave you an idea of how your morning was going to go. It didn’t take him long for him to slip off your underwear and push your oversized shirt up. You can’t help but question why you even try to sleep wearing clothes when Wonwoo is in your bed.

Pushing your hips back you can’t help but gasp at how deep he’s hitting. This is one of your favorite positions with him. He’s so big that when he’s behind you he feels like he’s going extra deep.

“Baby,” he moans your latest nickname he’s started calling you.

Everything about Wonwoo is perfect. Even his body is perfect. His wide shoulders and slim waist, and his dick is the biggest you’ve ever had. You don’t know how you’ll repay Mingyu for basically setting you up.

Wonwoo falls apart filling you to the brim. You learned early on that Wonwoo loves fucking you raw and has a fascination with coming inside you. Sometimes you wonder if he's trying to get you pregnant.

Sitting on his knees between your legs he watches intently as his cum drips out of you. His finger slowly scoops some up before pushing it back inside of you.

“You know you're the first man I have been with who seems obsessed with coming inside me,” you tease.

“Does it make me territorial!?” He smiles.

“Possibly, but you don’t try to dom me while you do it.” Your hand glides down your stomach and slowly dips through your fold smearing around his release.

“Do you want me dom you?” He asked, arching his eyebrow.

“Not really. I like the way things are with us.”

“That’s good because this is about as kinky as I get,” he laughs crawling off the bed. He disappears into your bathroom that’s connected to your room. He comes back holding a warm washcloth. Gently he wipes away the mess that you’ve both made.

“I think you’re kinkier than you give yourself credit for. You definitely like to overstimulate me. You also are definitely obsessed with my boobs.”

He walks over to the nightstand putting on his glasses. Shaking his head, “and you’re obsessed with me fucking you while I have my glasses on.”

“Who can blame a girl?” You slowly sit up. He presses his lips to yours for a soft kiss. “Oh we can’t forget the time you thought it would be fun to edge me.”

-

“Has Wonwoo convinced you to go to Seungcheol's birthday tonight yet?” Mingyu says sitting a cup of coffee down in front of you.

Going to events with Wonwoo’s friend group still felt odd to you. You weren’t used to a man proudly wanting to take you to things.

Before you started dating the man who has been stealing your heart, you didn’t realize you have a few mutual friends. Before your first meeting you had Mingyu mention Wonwoo’s name a few times. It turns out you and Wonwoo had a few mutual friends. One of them is your coworker Mingyu and the other two are friends from college Vernon and Sweetie. The latter who is now dating another friend from the boys’ friend group Soonyoung.

“Has my boyfriend recruited you to help convince me?” You take a sip of your iced coffee. Seungcheol birthday party has been a conversation with your boyfriend for over a week.

“He mentioned a couple times that you felt awkward going,” he sits down in the chair in front of your desk.

“I’m awkward in social settings. Hell I never went out with anyone from work until that night a couple months ago when you convinced me.” You we’re quite the homebody before you started working with Mingyu. Back in college you really only had two friends: your roommate at the time, sweetie and her best friend Vernon.

“And look what happened you went out and I got you a boyfriend,” he smiles. Mingyu is never going to stop bragging about the fact that he successfully set up you and Wonwoo.

“I guess I don’t need to go out again since I got myself a boyfriend. I only need one. I don't need to go try to find a second one.”

The eye roll he gives you makes you feel like you’re winning this conversation. “Very funny. (YN) just go to the party. It’s just a get together on the rooftop of Seungcheol and Shau’s place. We’re not going clubbing or anything.”

“Why do you and Wonwoo want me to go so badly?”

“Because your boyfriend wants to be able to show you off. Wonwoo wasn’t really a relationship guy before you. Let him be the doting boyfriend he loves to be with you.” It seems like both you and Wonwoo we’re fine on your own before you met.

“Are you going to bring any one?” You attempt to change the subject.

Leaning back in his chair he suddenly seems shy. “I have a friend who might come with me.”

“Is this certain friend a girl who works at your favorite coffee place.”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” you smile before taking a drink of your coffee. “Has she ridden on your motorcycle yet?”

A smile pulls at his lips, “maybe.”

-

You’ve been home from work for about an hour before Wonwoo lets himself into your apartment. He finds you sitting on your couch with your laptop looking at a book manuscript.

He looks extremely hot with little effort. He’s wearing jeans, a tight fitting white shirt and a leather jacket. It’s clear by the helmet in hand he rode his motorcycle over.

“Hi,” you close your laptop.

He doesn’t say anything, he walks over and presses his lips to yours for a heated kiss.

“I thought I would stop by before heading to Cheol’s birthday.”

“Did you miss me already,” you tease.

“I always miss you.” He pulls away sitting his helmet on the coffee table.

“You just saw me this morning.”

“Maybe that’s too long ago for me,” he sits down next to you.

“How can I get you to go to Cheol’s party with me?” With the amount of times he’s brought up this party it’s clear it's important to him. You’re starting to feel selfish for giving him such a hard time about it. When it comes to being in a relationship with him you know you both need to compromise sometimes.

“You really want me to go, huh?”

“It would be the first time most of the group is together and I would like to introduce you to more people.” He pushes his fingers through his hair. “Also a few of the guys Soonyoung, Jihoon, and Shau’s girlfriends will all be there.”

“I'm already friends with Soonyoung and his girlfriend. Are we forgetting she was my college roommate?”

“Just humor me and come. Please.”

“Do you have a second helmet or are we taking a cab to Cheol’s?”

“Let’s take cab so you can wear one of your cute little dresses.”

-

Parties and get together we’re never your favorite situation to be in. Things don’t feel as overwhelming when Wonwoo is holding your hand through it all.

All of Wonwoo’s friends are nice and they all seem very excited to get to know you.

Jeonghan went on a rant telling you how Wonwoo talks about you all the time at work. You feel your cheeks burn as you hear about all the kind things your boyfriend says about you.

Mingyu arrives at the party with a pretty girl. You assume it’s the girl you’ve heard him talk about. Anytime he’s ever mentioned her he sounds absolutely smitten.

“I think that girl with Mingyu might actually make him change his ways,” Wonwoo whispers in your ear. You’ve through working with Mingyu, and from dating his best friend/roommate that Mingyu isn’t normally the dating type. He likes to love and leave them. Most of his relationships seem to be only sexual.

“He looks happy,” you say.

“He is. Maybe he’ll find what we have,” he kisses your temple. “I’m going to get a drink. Why don’t you talk Vernon?”

Your boyfriend heads off to the table that is set up as a makeshift bar. Walking over to the edge that looks out onto the city. Vernon is standing there with a red cup in his hand. He seems lost in thought.

“What are you thinking about?” Vernon looks up at you before taking a sip of his drink.

“Do you ever think that you’re destined to be with someone?”

You’ve been thinking about this a lot recently. Your opinions on it now are drastically different then they would have been at the beginning of the year. “You know if you would have asked me this three months ago I would have said no. But since meeting Wonwoo I feel like a part of me has always been missing before him. He makes me feel whole in a way I didn’t even know was possible.”

He leans back against the rail, “sounds like you’re in love.”

“I’ve been in love before, but nothing has ever felt like this.”

Vernon gives you a smile before taking another drink. “Sounds to me like maybe Wonwoo is your soulmate.”

That word has been floating around in your head for over a month. At the rate you fell in love with Wonwoo it didn’t feel real. Before him you were perfectly fine being alone. But somehow he changed everything.”

“Maybe he is,” looking over at the bar area you find him smiling while he’s listening to Joshua and Jun tell him something. You love when he smiles and makes your heart flutter. “I think I need to tell him I love him.”

“Have you guys not said the big L word?”

“Not yet. I think I will tonight.”

Vernon has always been someone special to you. He always seemed to understand more than any of your friends. “Why did you ask about being destined to be with someone?”

“It’s nothing,” he looks down at his feet.

“Vernon, just tell me.”

He lets out a heavy sigh, “I used to think I was destined to be with Sweetie back in college. But like clearly that didn’t work out and it’s a good thing it didn’t because her and Soonyoung are so happy,” he looks off into the corner where Soonyoung and his girlfriend are clearly having an intimate conversation. “I always cared about her and I definitely loved her back then, but there is someone else now.”

“The neighbor girl?” You’ve heard him mention the girl who lived across from him, Chan, and Seokmin. He just nods. “Is she still with that guy?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s cheating on her,” he sighs. “I found her crying outside her apartment again yesterday.”

“Have you guys gotten closer?”

“Yeah. I can’t really keep my feelings out of it either.”

“Have you thought about telling her? Maybe it would give her a reason to leave him.”

“It’s crossed my mind.”

Wonwoo walks up behind pressing his lips to the top of your head. “Hey Vernon.” He reaches over patting Vernon on the shoulder.

“Hey Wonwoo. I’m gonna give you guys a minute.” Vernon instantly excuses himself.

“Is he okay?” Wonwoo asked.

“I think he will be.” You can’t help but be sad for Vernon. He hasn’t exactly been the luckiest when it comes to the dating department.

Wonwoo hands you a red cup with what looks like beer in it. Staring at him watching as he takes a sip you feel like a college girl drinking beer out of plastic cups with the boy she’s fascinated with.

“Wonwoo?”

“Yeah baby?” He gives you that same smile that melts you every time.

“I love you.” Normally you would be terrified to say those words first, but with Wonwoo you’re anything but scared.

“That’s good, because I’m head over heels for you,” he steps closer to you. Leaning down presses his lips to yours for a heated kiss.

“Does that mean you love me?” You want to hear him say those three little words.

“I absolutely love you.”

You lean forward and kiss him again. You won’t ever get enough of the feeling of his lips on yours. Wrapping his arms around you he holds you close. There is something so warm and safe about being in his arms.

He releases you from his hold and leans down pressing his lips to your again.

“I need to use the restroom,” you want to get Wonwoo alone away from all his friends for a few moments.

“It’s downstairs in Cheol’s place.”

“I really need you to go with me,” you lace your fingers with his.

“Oh, I’m assuming you don’t need to pee?”

“Not at all.”

-

Bent over the sink he slowly thrust into you. Glancing up into the mirror, your eyes focus on Wonwoo reflection. The site of his hair a little messy and his glasses on as he fucks you turns you on even more. Strong hands grip your hip as he thrust into you quickly.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” he groans. Reaching around he takes one of your boobs in his hands. You learned very early on that Wonwoo has an obsession with your boobs. He loves playing with them while you fuck.

“You’re doing so good for me,” his praises do nothing but spur you on. “You take me so well.”

“Fuck- you feel so good,” you quitely whine.

His hips snap into yours at a quick pace. He’s normally not this quick or rough, but doing this in Seungcheol’s apartment bathroom while everyone is up on the rooftop means he can’t take his time with you.

“I love you,” you moan.

“Say it again,” he continues thrusting into you.

“I love you Wonwoo.”

Putting your hand over your mouth you desperately try to muffle your moans. Everyone might be up on the roof top but you don’t want to risk someone coming into the apartment and hearing what you and your boyfriend are doing. They don’t need to hear you screaming because he’s absolutely railing you in the bathroom.

“I love you,” he moans.

“Harder,” you moan.

He snaps his hips even harder than before. If you weren’t bent over the counter he might knock you over with how hard he’s thrusting into you. Grabbing your bicep he lifts you up so you’re flush against him as his hips thrust into you. His hand slides push the straps of your dress down to access your breast. He squeezes tightly playing with your taunt nipple.

“Baby,” you whimper.

“Fuck-“

You normally like to look at him during sex but he’s hitting inside you so incredibly deep you’re practically seeing stars.

Fall apart together moaning each other's name. He rolls his hips slowly helping you ride out your high while he paints your inside walls white.

“Maybe coming inside me wasn’t a good idea at a party.”

Slowly he pulls out leaving you feeling empty. Your hand reaches down to your core where his cum is already leaking out. He stands there blissed out staring at you. He dips his finger through your slit picking up some of his release. He holds it up to your mouth and without even thinking you lick it off his fingers.

“Fuck, you’re hot.”

“Maybe we should clean me up, so everyone doesn’t know fucked in the birthday boy’s bathroom.” You say earning a laugh from your boyfriend.

Going back up to the rooftop you try to act like nothing happened downstairs with you and Wonwoo. You let him hold your hand taking you around the party talking to all of his friends. Even though you don’t like parties or anything like that you realize you’ll go to any of them with Wonwoo because you know that makes him happy. You honestly will do anything for him if it will make him happy.

Laying in bed you look over at Wonwoo. He’s adjusting his glasses as he reads something on his phone.

“Wonwoo?”

“Baby?”

“I might sound crazy, but I think you’re my soulmate. I haven’t ever loved anyone like I love you.”

He sets his phone down and gives you a smile, “I thought I was crazy too. I definitely love you more then anyone I have ever loved before.”

“I feel like you have my heart, body, and soul,” you say.

“You have stolen every part of my existence,” he leans over, pressing his lips to yours for a heated kiss. The longer you’re with him the more you realize he is truly the king of your heart, body, and soul.

[iamnotoriginalphil]

For the Article (Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: You're sent to cover the opening show of the Coven's next tour. Agatha Harkness, the lead singer, is magnetic. Luckily for you, she seems to think the same as you.

Words: 4.2k

Warnings: Swearing, oral (R giving), strap (R receiving), masturbating, mirror sex

Tags: @sasheemo @buttercandy16 @chlondykebar @midnight-lestrange @babybeeelle @dontsblameme

The crowd was buzzing around you. The music was loud, the thump reverberating through your ribcage, making your heart beat faster. The band onstage was captivating, there was no other word for it. The women were everything they promised to be, the kind that could easily be believed to be witches. They’d certainly cast a spell over the crowd.

Front woman Agatha Harkness was a clear fan favourite. Flouncing around the stage, flirting with any pretty thing in the front row, captivating blue eyes drawing you in, it was easy to see why her fan base had once been described as a cult. You found yourself watching her more often than the others. It might not be the most professional, but she drew the eye, and that was worth putting in the article.

You’d been sent by your boss to review the show, the first on their American tour. The others in the office had bemoaned their luck, busy on other stories when you got to go rock out. It didn’t help that you were the only member of the team who wasn’t a fan of the Coven going in.

Now? Well… you supposed you could see the appeal.

It shouldn’t have worked, the eclectic collection of people on the stage. Alice, the pianist, the child of a 70s star. Jen, the bassist, spending more time on social media than in rehearsal. Rio, the drummer, a wild card if ever there was one. Billy, the guitarist, a replacement for his own mother from the early days, younger than you thought was reasonable to have so much talent. Lilia, who seemed to fill in any small instrument that was needed in the song. And of course, Agatha, the showman.

It shouldn’t have worked, but standing there in the crowd, you’d be the first to admit that it did.

The air was charged, electricity moving through the crowd. You drank it in, soaked in the energy thrumming between the people. It was the kind of show that got the heart racing and the fingertips tingling. Something special was happening. Of that you were sure.

Later, once the last note had been played and the lights had flooded the auditorium, showing the crowd in all their glory at the end of the show, you watched them stream towards the exit. The excited chatter was familiar, almost comforting in its ordinariness.

You, taking a different turn, following the band’s manager backstage, felt a moment of anticipation. It was almost anxiety. You hadn’t gotten nervous about interviewing anyone since your early reporting days. Now, it was just routine.

Something about this band had you feeling butterflies at the thought of meeting them.

The greenroom backstage was not what you were expecting. Rio was sprawled over the small two seater couch, twirling her drumsticks above her head. Billy was hunched over a notebook, sitting on the ground criss cross apple sauce. Jen was perched in a chair, taking a selfie as she chatted to Lilia. Alice was slumped against one wall, arm resting on the top of a bent knee, listening in. Agatha, the one your eyes alighted on first, was in front of a mirror, leaning forward as her fingertip brushed over her lower lip.

“Hi,” you said, hoping to break through the tension in your stomach, “great show.”

Everyone liked compliments. Starting out on the right foot might let you in on some of the secrets behind the curtain. Everyone knew the band, everyone had heard the stories. You wanted to know the truth.

“Thanks,” Billy said, glancing up for only a moment before he went back to his notebook.

“You going to give us a good review?” Rio asked.

“I’m thinking about it,” you replied, “but I’d love to get some behind the scenes flavour.”

“You want the tea,” Billy drawled.

“Be nice,” Agatha said, before her eyes met yours in the mirror, “we’re here to make friends.”

“You don’t make friends,” Jen said.

That piqued your interest.

“What does she make?” you asked.

“Don’t listen to her. I’m very friendly,” Agatha purred.

You met her gaze again, trying not to let it show on your face how intrigued that comment made you. You were there on a job. You had to remain professional. There was no chance you’d be letting yourself be taken in by her, not when keeping your wits about you was necessary. And you thought it would be very necessary around her. She seemed like the kind of person who charmed her way into getting what she wanted.

The way her eyes swept over you made you think that in that moment she wanted you.

“What do you want from us?” Alice asked, sounding more tired than the rest of them. Just looking at her she seemed exhausted. Her hair stuck to her skin from the sweat still glistening on her forehead.

“Not much. I’m just going to hang out for half an hour, see what you’re like.” Honesty seemed like the best route with her, “then I’ll leave you be and I’ll go write up my article.”

“No interviews?” she asked.

“Nope,” you said.

“And this is all off the record?” she asked.

“I’m just here to see what you’re like as a group,” you said, “nothing else. I didn’t even bring any of my recording equipment.”

“Except your phone,” Rio drawled.

“I’ll hand it over for the half hour I’m here,” you said, pulling it out of your pocket.

A warm hand closed around yours, lingering before it pulled the phone from your grip. Glancing up, you found Agatha had managed to sneak up on you, close enough that you could see each individual eyelash. Your breath stuttered, not used to having someone so magnetic focusing all their power on you.

“I’ll keep this safe for you,” she murmured.

“I’m sure you will.”

A twinkle in her eye let you know you were walking a dangerous line. You were getting too close to flirting. And not in order to get her to open up and reveal more than she might want to. No, this was purely because you wanted to.

You could understand why so many people were clamouring to meet her.

You stepped around her, the space necessary for you to keep your head in her presence. Leaving the phone in her hand, you perched on edge of one of the tables, staring out at the group. Agatha’s hips swayed as she sauntered over, lowering into the seat by your hip with a flick of her hair.

“What did you think of the show?” Lilia asked.

“You’re all very talented. I’ve never been to one of your shows before,” you said, turning your attention to their small grouping.

“So we popped your cherry tonight?” Agatha asked, her chin coming to rest in the palm of her hand, gazing up at you from under eyelashes.

“That’s one way to phrase it,” you said, offering her a tight smile.

“Play nice,” Rio warned.

“I’m always nice,” she said, her hand landing on your thigh, “aren’t I being nice?”

You watcher her tongue run along her lower lip, painted red, white teeth flashing at you. Your own lips parted.

“Very nice,” you whispered.

Her hand squeezed your thigh and a flush of heat went through you. She was still gazing up at you with smouldering eyes, hand burning through the denim of your jeans. You had to drag your eyes away from her, physically stopping yourself from looking at her.

“You enjoyed yourself then?” Lilia asked, ignoring whatever it was Agatha was doing to you.

“I’ve had a very enjoyable evening,” you replied, trying to slip back into professionalism.

“No need for it to end so soon,” Agatha said, snatching your attention back.

She was the definition of temptation. Leaning into your body, her hand still on your thigh, climbing higher, her shirt open down to her navel giving you quite the eyeful from your position. You wanted to lick a long line between those breasts. You bet she tasted like heaven.

“There’s nothing stopping us from continuing it after this little meeting,” she said, voice lowering into a seductive purr.

“That would hardly be professional,” you said.

“You’ll be off the clock,” she said, leaning closer, “nothing but two people getting to know each other better.��

“You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?” you asked as you lowered your head towards her.

The loud cackle startled you. Jerking away, you found Rio laughing, head tipped back, almost wild in her delight. The glower that passed over Agatha’s face was fascinating before she smoothed it over, offering you a pleasant smile. Billy’s eye roll felt natural, like something he’d done plenty of times before.

You doubted you were the first one Agatha had tried to seduce after a show.

“Why haven’t you ever been to one of our shows before?” Jen asked, glancing up from her phone.

You weren’t sure how to answer it without admitting you weren’t exactly a fan of theirs. Not that you hated their music, just that you’d never been particularly invested in it.

“Probably because journalists aren’t paid that much,” Billy said.

“They’re paid enough,” Alice said.

“Leave her be. She’s under no obligation to spend her money on us,” Agatha said, hand slipping up your thigh another inch.

“Maybe I’ll have to come see another. I had no idea you put on such a fun show,” you said.

“No need to stroke our egos. Just tell us what you really think,” Rio said.

You considered her a moment that stretched out as you held eye contact with her. You weren’t sure you liked being so seen, especially by a stranger.

“Your music is fine,” you said, “it’s just not my favourite.”

“And what is your favourite?” Agatha asked, voice turning sultry, as if asking something far more interesting than your taste in music.

“A closely guarded secret from those I’m writing articles about,” you replied.

Her head tipped back as she laughed, full and throaty, the kind that made you wonder if this was the truth or another performance to make you like her. You had to admit, it was working on you.

“Well, now I definitely have to get you off the clock, hon,” she said.

Standing, her other hand landed on the other thigh, pushing you up to sit properly on the table. She stepped between your knees, fingers dragging up your legs, turning your brain fuzzy. Your chin tilted up, an automatic response to your position. Her gaze darkened, focusing on your mouth for longer than was appropriate.

“This is definitely not professional,” you said, voice whisper quiet.

“Fuck professional,” she said, “you already know what you’re going to write. This is just between you and me.”

“And the rest of us you’re forcing to watch this pathetic attempt at seduction,” Billy drawled.

Your cheeks heated, becoming aware of the audience to your embarrassment. Eyes were turned towards the two of you, watching. You shook your head, pushing Agatha back. Sliding onto your feet you looked around.

“Well, you’re right about one thing,” you said, “I already know what I’m going to write. Thank you all for your time.”

Offering a tight smile, you turned on your heels and fled out of the room. Cursing your own stupidity, you beat a retreat towards the exit, wanting to get home and not linger on the way that woman had made you feel with so little effort. There had to be something wrong with you to lose your head so quickly. You were trained better than that.

It wasn’t until someone fell into step beside you that you became aware of the sound of heels on the concrete floor following you. You glanced over, unsurprised when the smirking face of Agatha was looking back. You sighed, slowing your pace until you’d stopped just feet from the exit.

“You left in rather a hurry there, hon,” she said.

“I don’t want to keep you from whatever after party you had planned,” you replied.

“It’ll be no celebration without you there,” she said.

She took a step towards you and you took an answering one back. Her lips pulled up into a small smile, doing it again. When your back hit the wall, you realised you’d made a mistake. You’d let her corner you, alone, when the only thing you wanted was space to screw your head back on right.

“You left your phone,” she whispered, hand landing beside your head against the wall.

“Oh. Right. Thanks,” you said.

A hand slid into the back pocket of your jeans. Your breath hitched and a look of pride passed over her face. Her body slotted along yours, the hand on your ass pulling you closer, hips aligning in a way that made your thoughts scatter. Her nose ran along your jawline before her lips pressed to the vulnerable place behind your jaw. The noise you made as embarrassing, want and shame mingling together.

“Come celebrate with me,” she murmured into your skin.

There wasn’t any question about denying her request.

Her hotel room was almost clinical, all white sheets and bright lights. Clothes spilled out of multiple suitcases, flung over the couch and the bed. Agatha pushed them aside, uncaring when they fell to the floor as she reached for you.

You fell onto the bed in the cage of her arms, her lips finding yours in a searing kiss. The entire trip back to the hotel had been a masterclass in foreplay. Her hands had wandered as she whispered dirty things in your ear. Her lips would barely brush your skin and you’d shiver in the back of the car, leaning into her as she made you whimper for her touch.

Her tongue swept into your mouth, making you groan, legs curling around her hips. Her hands weren’t careful as they dragged down your body, pushing up underneath your shirt, nails scraping over your skin. You arched up into her touch, offering yourself to her.

Dragging the shirt from your body, she sat back for a moment, eyes tracing over your exposed chest. Fingers tangling in her hair, you pulled her back down, kissing her long and deep. Her hands were swift to divest you of the bra you were wearing, leaving you bare to her touch.

Her lips trailed down your body, your gasp only making her smile into your skin. Her tongue traced around one nipple, fingertips mirroring her movements on the other. You arched into her mouth, fingers tightening in her hair, pressing her to you, refusing to let her go. You were gasping her name. Blue eyes found yours, burning with lust, watching the way you responded to her.

You dragged her back up, kissing her, needing her in a very fundamental way. She laughed into your mouth, hands stroking over your skin. Rolling her, you straddled her waist, staring down at her. So much skin on display and yet not nearly enough. Ducking down, you did as you’d been thinking about since seeing her, running your tongue from navel to neck. Her groan was filthy, wriggling beneath you.

You were careful as you peeled the clothes from her body, lavishing attention on every new inch of skin you revealed. She squirmed, her voice raspy as she told you to get on with it. Grinning up from between her thighs, you waited for the sharp tug on your hair.

Her hips canted up into your mouth as you devoured her. Even in pleasure, she was musical, the noises she was making a symphony to your ears. Your hands held her legs open, refusing to let them close around your head, wanting her wider to get deeper, to hear the deep moans you could draw from her. Her hand was forcing you harder against her, rocking against your face.

You let her use you however she wanted. Her pleasure only made the throbbing between your own legs worse. Staring up her body, you watched as her lips parted, her hand working at her own breast.

She wasn’t quiet as she came, the noise loud, ringing in your ears as you lapped at her. You could spend hours there, doing this over and over again. This was a better show than the one she’d put on earlier that night, far more compelling to you. She hissed as you kept going, wanting to see it again.

With a grip stronger than you were expecting, she pulled you away, throwing you back down onto the mattress. She crawled up your body, lips trailing kisses up your bare skin, making you whimper. It was inconceivable how she made you feel with such simple actions.

She tugged your jeans off, a flurry of movement that had you pressing a hand to your eyes, squeezing shut when you felt her fingers on your wet heat. A featherlight touch circling over your clit had you whimpering, wanting more, ready to beg for it.

“Stay right there,” she whispered, lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

You watched as she stood from the bed, gloriously naked, uncaring and confident in her own body. Your own fingers slipped down your body, brushing over your clit, watching as she rummaged through her luggage. She glanced over her shoulder, watching for a moment, eyes darkening as she focused on your hand.

“You’re too fucking gorgeous, you know that right?,” she said before going back to whatever she was doing.

When your finger slipped in, your eyes fluttered closed, a soft sigh on your lips. Some relief was better than nothing. You were beyond ready for an orgasm of your own.

Fingers curled around your ankles, startling you. Your hand fell away from your hot cunt, staring at the sight of Agatha at the foot of the bed. More importantly, you were staring at the heavy purple strap bobbing between her legs.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’re ruined for anyone else,” she told you, her hold tightening on your ankle.

“Better get on with it then,” you said, feigning a cockiness you couldn’t feel in your breathless state.

Her chuckle was warm, throaty, making you reach for her. She fell over you, kissing you deeply until all thoughts fled. You didn’t even notice as her hands manhandled you until her lips disconnected from yours. Positioned on your hands and knees, her lips trailed down your spine, making you whine. Her hands were palming at your ass as she took her time, uncaring of how you were trying to wiggle closer.

“You’re dripping, hon,” she groaned before her teeth sunk into one cheek.

You pressed back into her, your own moan loud to your ears. Her tongue soothed over the mark before she rose. One hand on your hips steadied her as the other curled around your body, running through your folds. Whimpering, you looked over your shoulder.

“Are you ready for me?” she asked just as her finger pressed down on your clit.

“Yes,” you whimpered, “please.”

“Say it again,” she commanded.

“Please.”

The tip of her strap nudged at your entrance.

“Again.”

“Please.”

She pushed in, both hands grasping your hips, rough and demanding as she slid in to the hilt. Her name was nothing but a moan, your own hips pressing back into her. She was slow as she pulled out before thrusting forward again.

“Look at how well you take me,” she murmured, “you make such a pretty sight.”

One of her hands tangled in your hair, pulling your head up from where it had fallen forward. Staring back at you was your own image, a mirror placed in the perfect position to show you as she thrust into you. Your mouth fell open, watching your two bodies move together.

Her hands were back on your hips, throwing back her wild hair as she increased the pace of her thrusts. You couldn’t stop watching, not realising how much of a turn it would be to watch yourself get fucked by the rock star. Her grip was tight, almost painful, as she began to pound into you.

You were a babbling mess, begging for more, enamoured by the sight of the two of you. Her burning eyes found yours in the mirror, locking on, refusing to let you look away. Your internal walls were beginning to flutter, your desperation obvious. She grinned, slowing down her pace, making you whine like the brat you knew you could be.

“I should bring you on tour with me,” she said, tortuous slow thrusts keeping you on the edge but not enough to push you over, “you’re such a good stress relief toy.”

“Agatha,” you groaned.

“I could do this every night,” she said.

“Please.” You tried to press back into her faster than she wanted. The tight grip she had on your hips kept you in place.

“Would you like to come with us?” she asked.

You nodded your head, knowing it was ridiculous, knowing there was no chance you’d be joining her on the tour. But the thought of having more of this, to be given this every night for months on end, was one that you wanted desperately. You wanted to be owned by her, to be her bitch, to submit to her until you forgot your own name.

Her pace increased agains until she was slamming into you, the slap of skin loud in the room as you moaned like the whore she made you. Right before your orgasm hit, your elbows gave you, sending you face first into the mattress, giving her an angle that let her hit deeper within you. Her name was a strangled gasp and then you were clamping down on her strap, lost in the feeling of fire in your veins and pleasure rocketing through your body. Her slow stroks eased you through it before she finally pulled completely from you.

Rolling onto your back, you stared up at the ceiling, gasping for breath. You passed a hand over your face, overwhelmed by how good it had been. A quick fuck with a one night stand wasn’t meant to rock your world quite the way Agatha had. You listened as she did something by the edge of the mattress.

The bed dipped as she drew closer. She swooped down, kissing you long and deep and dirty, making you curl your arms around her waist. Repositioning you to curl against her side as she lent against the headboard, she was slow to draw away, hand stroking along your ribs.

“We’re leaving for the next stop on the tour tomorrow morning,” she said.

You knew this song. Sitting up, you pulled out of her hold.

“Right, yeah, of course,” you said, “well, thank you for the celebration.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked, arms wrapping around your waist, front pressed to your back.

“Home?” you said, unsure what was going on. This was not how your usual one night stands went.

“I suppose you will have to pack but it’s late. Do that tomorrow,” she said, lips pressing to your bare shoulders, turning you back into liquid heat.

“Pack?” you asked while your brain could still produce thoughts that weren’t just about the feel of her against you.

“You’ll need things while you’re on tour with us,” she replied, a whisper into your skin.

“On tour? I can’t drop everything and follow you around the country,” you said, turning in her arms to look at her properly.

Her long fingers pushed your hair out of your face but her lips were pursed in displeasure. Your fingertips ran along her collarbone, feeling the way the bone shifted under her skin as she shifted away from you.

“You said you wanted to come with me,” she said.

“I thought… I thought it was just a heat of the moment request,” you said, peering into her eyes.

“I don’t ask every beautiful woman I fuck to join me on the road,” she said.

“You seriously want me to go with you?”

Her hands on your waist pulled you closer until you were straddling her lap. Your fingers pushed into her hair, tangling in it, tilting her face up towards you.

“Come with me, hon,” she said, “join me on the road.”

You felt crazy for actually considering it.

“I’ll have to talk to my boss,” you said.

“Of course,” she said.

“I can’t lose my job,” you said, “and fair warning but I don’t exactly have any savings.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of you,” she said.

You considered her for a moment before you nodded your head. She brightened, your smile answering hers. You lent down, kissing her again, feeling insane for agreeing but not sure you could stop yourself even if you’d wanted to. There was something about Agatha Harkness that made you want to do things you knew you shouldn’t.

But you sensed it would be worth it.

[jarofstyles]

Bad Idea, Right?

Obviously inspired by Miss Olivia Rodrigo’s song, here is a one shot I loved writing :) a bit of angst, a bit of a fluff, a lot of smut, a little bit of everything!

Check out our Patreon for early access and 160+ exclusive writings!

WC- 6.2k

Warnings- toxic relationship, kinda asshole h, angst, crying, slight degradation, spitting, impact play (light), sex tape filming, daddy kink (light), use of Mama 🤭

—-

Y/N knew this was a very bad idea. She knew she was going to regret this in the morning, as she usually did when Harry texted her to show up somewhere, but here she was. 

Her best black dress in the most soft fabric, the one he had complimented her on endlessly before peeling it off when they had still been together, was glued to her body, Hair curled and falling down her shoulders. If she was going to show up at a houseparty that her ex boyfriend was throwing, she may as well go all out and wear something that she knew he liked. 

Internally, she tried to talk herself out of it as she approached the open door, ignoring the people making out on his lawn. The thump of the bass was audible outside, a deep sigh being let out as she tossed her phone in her clutch after texting him a simple ‘here.’ The shot she had taken before had done next to nothing to calm her nerves, her red lipstick meticulously touched up in the back of the uber as she squirmed in the seat surely getting fucked up as she bit down on her bottom lip, venturing into the home that used to be so familiar to her. 

It had been 5 months since they’d broken up, but it had barely seemed like it. Harry had a way of getting into her head and driving her absolutely fucking mad. Their back and forth seemed neverending, their text threads updating every few days. A fight, a makeup, a request to see one another. As much as she wanted to claim it was all him, she knew she was equally as bad. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to find someone else- but no one else could get her off like him.

Harry knew her body better than anyone else, every curve and mark, where to touch and stroke. Where to stroke, where to lick, where to bite. He was an expert on how to get her off in just minutes, her cunt completely dedicated to him as much as she wished it wasn’t. Her brain and pussy had no communication in the information regarding the fact they were broken up, much to her dismay. The only thing saving her ego was that she knew that she had the same effect on Harry. There was no way she didn’t. Harry could very well fuck anyone he wanted to, more than capable to pull. Y/N had been overly jealous as a girlfriend and she knew that, but people were drawn to her boyfriend despite the fact it was well known he was taken. While he didn’t seem to take them up on it- he ate up the attention and preened over it, much to her irritation. It caused fights upon fights, her going out of her way to make him jealous- which worked. They both seemed to get off on pissing each other off. 

Breaking up was supposed to stop the cycle, but it seemed to only string it out further.

There had been so many times she deleted his number but when he pulled up on her notifications again, she recognized the number and his attitude and couldn’t resist temptation. No one had ever made Y/N feel so many emotions in her life. Being around Harry was like a live wire, electric and hot, dangerous and potentially harmful, but the benefits sometimes outweighed the risks. 

Her nose crinkled as she felt the floor stick under her shoe, knowing he would be pissed about that tomorrow. Whatever spiked punch was all over the floor and that would take some elbow grease to get out. Navigating through the entryway, she made her way into the living room. It was dark, flimsy lighting had been put up to make colorful strobes go around the room, the room far too filled for comfort. It was stupidly warm, regret crawling up her neck as she looked around to find anyone familiar. 

“There she is!” The voice was unmistakable. Niall, arms tugging her in for a hug and pulling her into the kitchen where it was a bit quieter, the main group she was familiar with strung about along with a few strangers. “Harry’s girl is here, everyone! Y/N herself.” He chirped, making her give him a confused look until she followed his gaze to see Harry standing stiffly, a girl too close for comfort. Her eyes narrowed, taking in how the girl angled her body, hand resting on Harry’s arm, looking at her with a scowl. 

It was an ugly feeling to see someone else around her man. Well- he wasn’t her man, but it was another miscommunication between her heart and brain. She hated seeing him around someone else, the mere idea of him being with someone that wasn’t her made her stomach turn. It wasn’t right. Yes, she knew it was a toxic cycle but it was one she didn’t know how to break. She knew this was bad, but she didn’t want anyone else having him the way she did. 

The only saving grace was the fact that Harry looked uncomfortable, immediately peeling himself away from the other girl and coming straight over to Y/N.. Her face must have shown her irritation, mouth opening and arm resting on her hip as she went to give him a bit of hell but was cut off by his mouth. 

And Y/N’s body, she was a fucking traitor. Feeling his arms wrap around her and push her against the counter, his tongue pressing into her mouth and tasting the cinnamon from the alcohol and sticky remnants of Coca Cola on his lips made her brain go numb. She always did love how strong he was, how safe she used to feel wrapped up in his arms. There were a few wolf whistles surrounding them, but Y/N had been taken aback from the heat of it so early on, hand slipping between her and the counter to grab at her ass. A surprised moan left her mouth before Niall let out a laugh. 

“Alright, alright. Stop eating her, Harry.” Niall smacked his back, making Harry pull back with a hazy smirk. Almost dopy, making her blink up at him with her eyes narrowing again. His eyes were dark, lips wet now and that dark pink she liked so, so much. He hadn’t shaved today, leaving a bit of stubble around his face, a backwards hat combing his hair back to keep it out of his face. The nose piercing was swapped from a stud to a hoop, making her a bit surprised. Had he done that for her? He knew she liked it….

“You can take your hand off my ass now.” Her sassy tone didn’t match how her eyes looked, secretly loving that he had so publicly claimed her in front of a girl they both knew wanted him. It was a sick feeling, the victory even though she knew it was wrong to feel that way. It was a constant fight with herself. Knowing she should most definitely not be feeling so happy that her ex had just kissed her dumb in front of all his friends, but still liking that she had a claim on him. 

“I could.” He retorted. “But it feels so nice in my palm, and we both know how much you like it.” A squeeze was given, Y/N scowling back up at him but not making any attempt to move. If she wanted to, he would get out of the way- but they both knew how this went. She pretended she didn’t liked his hands on her, he taunted her, they would glare and play fight before it got a little real, and they’d fuck. A circle they’d swung around plenty of times. His lips lowered to her ear, ignoring the chatter around them. “You’re wearing my dress, hm?” 

“Yours? M’sorry, did you want to wear it?” She rose her eyebrow that she definitely hadn’t laid to perfection before she came here. “I forgot you even liked this one. It was the first thing I could reach in my closet.” Her nose was turned up, this time pushing past him to go over to the drinks. She looked down to see a cup with his name scribbled on it with a sharpie, lifting it up for confirmation before throwing it back.

Regretted immediately.

“Ugh- Harry, what the fuck?” She gagged, nose wrinkled as she opened his fridge to grab a bottle of water. “I forgot how disgusting your drinks are. God, how do you even have a stomach?” She gave him a horrified look, swishing the water in her mouth.’

“No one told you to fuckin’ take mine!” He grumbled, taking the cup to find it empty. “Fucks sake, Y/N. Taking my drink and then bitching about it. As usual.” He came up behind her to grab the bottle over the fridge, his ‘good stuff’ or whatever. It was already that time of night? 

Where they started poking at each other to cause a fight. To have an excuse to wander off and to strip down to nothing. 

“Excuse me?” Y/N grit her teeth, turning to look at him as he poured into his recently emptied cup. He was trying to get a rise out of her. 

“You heard me, princess. Know those ears work, considering you’re an eavesdropper.” 

Oh, he was going low. She crinkled the water bottle in her hands, shoulders tending as she exhaled sharply through her nose. “Well I wouldn’t have had to if you didn’t get so fucking weird with your phone. You were the one hiding a ‘project partner’ from me.” Her fingers did air quotes around that, showing that she didn’t believe his excuse. 

“Oh, for fucks sake.” Harry hissed, his own jaw setting. “I told you that she was just a partner for my paper. I didn’t tell you at first because I know you’d overreact and go all insane on me for daring to interact with another woman.” He snarled back, knowing where to hit where it hurt. 

“I wouldn’t have had to be paranoid if you’d respected me to stop flirting and entertaining girls who disrespected our relationship by hitting on you in front of me! You literally encouraged it!” She was trying to keep her voice down, but it was hard. This was an especially sore spot. 

“So replying with a thank you is encouraging it? Sue me for liking that someone complimented me on something!” He raised an arm up, running fingers through his hair in frustration before he turned away to lean on the counter with his arms crossed, cup in hand. “God, you do this every fucking time. We aren’t fucking together anymore, that’s your fault. Why do you continue to harrass me about this? Even if I did encourage it, I never went for it did I?” A cruel smirk emerged. “Though I’m a free agent now, yeah? Could go take Josslyn or Heather up on their offers?

Harry knew he had taken it a bit too far when her breathing caught for real, watching as he froze and her bottom lip trembled. That wasn’t a part of their regular script to wind each other up before hot sex. It was a bit of the real hurt that has blossomed through, but he hadn’t meant to let it out. Her eyes turned glassy, her hand snatching his drink and throwing it at his shirt. 

“Fuck you.” 

Harry felt the cold liquid hit him, hissing as he stood in slight shock as he watched her turn to leave. He had really fucked up. His stomach dropped as he tried to gather his bearings, cursing under his breath before going after her. 

“Y/N! Fuck, don’t go.” He yelled after her, making his way through the throngs of people in his living room, eyes watching her back go towards the door. While he had definitely said fucked up things before, this had been designed to hit where it really hurt. 

Y/N stomped through the living room, ignoring his calls for her as she got closer to the door- closer to escape- when she was caught. Arms wrapping around her waist as he pulled her into the bathroom next to the stairs and turning so he was against the door. Y/N kept her back towards him but yanked herself free from his grip, irritated that she was crying. That it still hurts. He knew it would and that’s partially what made it worse. He had been out to hurt her and she had known it was a bad idea to show up tonight but somewhere in her heart she had this tiny, tiny hidden hope that maybe tonight would be a night they could finally get over their differences. She missed him so much it ached if she allowed herself to feel it, but she had tried to refuse her feelings. 

It had boiled over now, though.

Harry swallowed thickly as he heard the sniffle. Y/N wasn’t one to cry about a lot. She hadn’t shed a lot of tears in the time they’d been together, emotionally iron clad as it seemed. When she did? It was unnerving. Heartbreaking. It was one of his least favorite things ever, seeing her crumble. While he may have enjoyed getting her angry and irritated, maybe a little jealous, he never liked hurting her. He gained no pleasure from that. 

“Baby…” He spoke softly, trying to turn her around, hands pulling at her shoulders. He was bigger than her and could definitely turn her around if he wanted to, but he wouldn’t ever touch her in a way she didn’t want. 

“No. You can’t- you can’t call me that anymore. I am not your baby.” She hissed, keeping herself turned from him. Harry winced. She hadn’t said that before, not seriously, but the venom in her voice had shown how upset she was. It was laced with the hoarse blanket that coated her voice when she cried, making it even worse. “You can go call Josslyn or Heather. I’m sure they’d love to be your b-baby.” The end of the sentence was joined with a little sob, effectively breaking his heart further. 

“No. No, I’m not… I didn’t mean it, Y/N. I promise. I was just upset and I didn’t mean for it to come out, I just wanted you to feel-”

“What?” Whipping around, Y/N’s mascara streaked cheeks were a blow to the chest. Her vulnerability was something he used to crave, to be the one she confided in or let herself break with. He wanted to be there for her. Not be the cause of her tears. “You wanted me to feel hurt, like you did? Do you not think I don’t hurt every fucking day?” 

“You broke up with me!” Harry tried, her glare making him stop talking quickly after. 

“I broke up with you because you didn’t take me seriously. How could you go from telling me you can’t wait to put a ring on my finger, can’t wait to have a family with me, to flirting with girls the same night? Do you know how humiliating it is to have your friends tell you that they heard so and so say they were going to try something because it ‘obviously isn’t serious with Y/N?” The incredulous look on her face made him shrink back a bit. 

“I didn’t know that! It was never real flirting, Y/N. I liked to get my ego stroked, the attention felt nice, but I would never, ever step out on you. I love you, for fucks sake!” He went to reach for her but she backed up, flinching slightly. Another dagger to the chest. He had really, really fucked up. She never denied his touch.

“You love me?” A humorless laugh escaped her swollen lips. “Is that how you love people, Harry? Make them feel disposable and humiliated because you can’t be happy with one girl telling you that she loves you back? My compliments weren’t enough?” Arms crossed defensively over her chest. “Give me a fucking break. Telling me that as if you didn’t just say moments ago that you should take up girls who actively disrespected our relationship on their offers to fuck you while you were dating me? Yeah, that’s definitely something someone who loved me would do.” She wanted to stay angry but she was hurt. Hurt so bad, the full weight of their breakup actually hitting her as she felt the sob crawl up her throat and hurried to cover her eyes as she began to cry. It couldn’t be held back. She was at her breaking point.

Harry wanted to throw up. He hadn’t thought of it that way, and honestly? He had never expected this. Sometimes Y/N had acted as if she didn’t have a lot of emotion, reserved and a bit quiet when she expressed herself. The one time he had gotten her to let go was during sex, where he truly felt her desire. That was maybe why he liked the attention from other people. She wasn’t very forthcoming with praise or overly lovey with him, and it had hurt a little. But he could deal with that later, because his poor fucking girl was sobbing in front of him.

“No, no… sweet girl. Please.” He watched as she dropped down to sit on the floor, gathering her knees to her chest as he followed after her. “Hey- M’so sorry. I didn’t think about it like that. I really didn’t. I was just talking out of my ass because I was hurt we’re still broken up a-and I shouldn’t have said anything but….” He sat down fully next to her, pulling her body on to his lap. She tried to squirm at first but he could tell it was half hearted as she settled down a moment later, the sobs wracking her body as his arms wrapped around her and his lips went to her ear. 

“M’so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t ever want to make you feel that way. You’ve always been so important to me and this is breaking my heart.” He whispered. “Hate that you’re crying because of me. I hate that I ever made you doubt that you were important to me, or that I respect you. I do. I promise you, I do.” He whimpered slightly, desperate to get her to believe him. “I’m an ass, I know. But you have to know I do, I love you so much. I’m so fucking sorry for throwing that in your face.” 

In the grand scheme of things, he knew that some people would think she was overreacting- but he understood now. He hadn’t truly meant to take it that far, hadn’t even stopped to think that those exact women had been sources of insecurity. They were the first to pop into his head because he had rejected them again tonight, waiting for Y/N to arrive. 

He never wanted to be broken up with. He had planned on being with her forever, and he had fucked it up. 

Her cries started to fade, sniffles taking the place of sobs as he whispered soft words, consoling her. He knew he’d fucked up tonight, in their relationship. He hadn’t communicated the way he needed to and he played games, but he thought that it would get a different reaction. His intentions weren’t to hurt her. Selfishly, stupidly, he assumed it hadn’t phased her. That she was just angry and not upset. 

If she’d give him another chance he’d fix it. He’d make sure to open her up a little more, make her feel more safe. Reign in his flirting, make sure he was just polite instead. He’d never put their relationship in jeopardy again. “C’mon. Come with me, to my room.” Standing up, he pulled her along with her. It said a lot about her right now that she wasn’t fighting, letting him lead her to his room with her hand tucked in his own. Her face was downcast, making sure no one could see that she’d cried as Harry took the key from his pocket and undid the lock. He really didn’t want strangers in his room.

It was still the same. His navy bedspread and Nirvana posters on the side of his wall, his desk slightly messy with a leftover fast food cup sitting next to his water bottle on his night stand. He’s gotten it for her, because she got thirsty in the middle of the night. 

What really got her attention was the framed photo of them that was right next to it. Her soft smile and his wide one, teeth out as he held her in his lap. His flannel was around her and his hat was backwards as he snuggled her. It had been cool that night but there was a bonfire, not enough seats and a handsy Harry ready to make his lap her throne. Her throat tightened as she looked at the photo, dropping his hand and wrapping her arms around her body to self soothe before she walked up to it. 

“Why do you still have this up?” Her voice was shaky still, looking down at the happy memory. 

“Because I still love you. I told you.” Hands were placed on her hips as she was brought into him, hugging her from behind as he unwrapped her arms and threaded their fingers together. “I know I’ve been shit. I’ve been… impatient, an attention whore, all of the insults you’ve said. But I love you. I have since day one. I’d have never cheated on you, regardless of what you may believe.” The idea of it made him feel ill. 

“Then why?” Her wavering voice made him frown. “Why did you keep flirting with people in my face? I know you said it was cause I wasn’t giving you enough compliments but I didn’t know you thought that.” His heart nearly snapped in two when her voice broke. “I thought the world of you. I was so proud to be with you and then… I thought you just didn’t like me anymore. I know…” A deep inhale was felt as her tummy lifted both of their arms. “I know I can be a little cold or quiet, but I had no idea you felt neglected. I pulled back because you kept talking to other girls how you used to talk to me and… I didn’t feel like it was okay to.”

It made him feel worse. Hearing this now. Y/N had broken up with him and he’d been hurt, his pride making him sneer at her and the nastiness was even more uncalled for now that he knew. Y/N wasn’t a bitch, she wasn’t unfeeling- she didn’t feel safe. He’d done that to her because he was the little bitch here, not giving her the safety she needed in order to open up. While they should’ve been continuing growing, he got his feelings hurt and made it impossible for her to feel like she could give those things to him. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice was weak. “I’m sorry. I’ll keep saying it. I didn’t mean it. I promise, nothing I've said is true. I wanted to wind you up, I wanted to fuck you because it was the only way you’d get close to me again. I never intended on making you feel unsafe with me, fuck. That’s the last thing I ever wanted. Makes me feel sick to hear that.” He nuzzled against her neck, placing a kiss there before pulling away, unwrapping them and sitting on the edge of his bed. Y/N wasn’t fighting him, so he gently tugged her to sit on his lap, this time facing him. “There she is.” A sad smile lifted his lips, thumb wiping away the streaks of mascara that had flaked off with her tears. “Still so pretty when you cry, even if it breaks m’heart.” 

It was worse than a kicked puppy. Y/N wasn’t a huge emoter so knowing that he’d done this had made him wonder what she did alone. How many other times he’d made her cry but she wasn’t solid enough around him to do it in front of him. 

“You broke mine.” She whispered, looking down at his shirt. “I don’t mean to be a bitch. I was just scared.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Let me fix it. Please?” Holding her face in his hands, he got her eyes back on his. “Let me make it better. I won’t do any of that ever again, I’ll communicate better… Just let me make your heart feel safe again.”

Y/N knew she was a sucker for this. She shouldn’t say yes. Every part of her except her brain was screaming to stay, though. While her head was telling her to run away as fast as she could, her heart thudded in her chest and her body wanted closer to his own. It was a decision she may come to regret, maybe she’d hate herself for it, but she couldn’t let go. “O-Okay.” She whispered, feeling his head fall against hers. “Please don’t break my heart again, H. I can’t do that again.” 

“I’d rather die.” 

His lips were pressed against hers, and moved quickly from there. 

One of the things that never lacked with them as a couple was sexual chemsitry. It’s what had them so obsessed with each other at first. The best way to get Y/N to express herself was when she was full of cock or close to the edge of orgasm, which was why Harry had no problem saying his apologies between her legs. 

“M’sorry, baby.” He crooned, licking over her drippy slit. “So, so sorry. M’gonna take care of you.” Lips pressed kisses to her clit, a keening whine leaving her lips as fingers clutched his hair and brought him closer to her. His mouth had always been his greatest gift and biggest curse. Somehow he knew all the right things to say, all the right things to do to pleasure her but always stuck his goddamn foot in his mouth. He was going to change that now. 

Dark green gazed into hers as he took another broad lick, the tip of his nose brushing over her clit. Large hands with chipped polish wrapped around her thighs and kept them spread, his hair a mess from her hands carding through it with their hot makeout and now his time spent working on her pussy. This was undoubtable a perk of being with the man, knowing how much he genuinely loved to eat pussy. He’d spend hours licking and sucking on her, making her sensitive and cum over and over again whenever he had the chance. For his birthday he’d genuinely wanted a day inside with her where he spent the majority of his morning eating her for breakfast, her thighs his perfect earmuffs from the snow that happened to fall on the day. 

Whenever they spent time apart he missed this desperately. He’d not even tried to find someone to replace this because he knew the feeling wouldn’t ever be the same. Sure, he’d loved eating pussy before Y/N but it had turned into a full on obsession with her. No one had ever tasted as good, made as many cute noises, squealed when his mouth latched on her clit and his finger curled just right- like he was doing now, holding her bucking hips down. 

“Oh, I know, Mama, I know.” He cooed against her. “Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Needed my mouth on this greedy fucking pussy…” Pursing his lips, he spit over her slit and watched it drip with a hiss before usng his tongue to spread it, digits dripping down to his wrist before his tongue trilled over the swollen bud. It didn’t take much to push her over, but a well timed smack against her thigh to get her to stop squirming had done the job. A wet gasp tore from her mouth as she squeale his name, simultaneously pulling his mouth against her and trying to push him away. Using his strength against her, he made sure to lick up a bit before spitting again, leaving her pussy wet and messy as he climbed up her body and kissed her hard. 

His chin was wet and she knew he was a fucking mess but her tongue delved into his mouth, tasting herself on him. She could hear the tug down of his zipper, felt him moving and wiggling his pants down but she was too busy sucking on his tongue and reveling in his moans against her to think twice before she felt the tip of his cock smack against her cunt. 

“I’m clean, baby. No one but you, never need anyone but you.” His grip on her chin was tight as he rutted himself against her cunt. “Even when you were being a miserable bitch t’me, all I wanted to do was love on you. M’gonna make sure you never fucking doubt how much you own me again. This is the only cunt I need.” 

There was sick satisfaction that rolled through him as he slid into her and felt the stretch, watching her mouth fall open as she was filled. It only confirmed what he had hoped- she hadn’t been fucking around much, if at all. Granted, he was thick and long and it would be hard to beat him, but he knew what she felt like when she was well fucked. “Oh, look at that…” He whispered, angling her head down to look at where her pussy lips clung to his cock as he pulled out a bit. “She missed me, didn’t she, baby? Sweet pussy missed my cock so fucking much, doesn’t want me to pull away.” 

Harry was by far the filthiest man she’d ever experienced but that’s part of the appeal. He may be a bit of an asshole, but god, he knew how to fuck. How to kiss. How to make her feel special when he wasn’t being a dickhead. Moments like this always wiped that shit clean, the slate cleared and her head foggy as all she could focus on was how right he was. “Yeah- yeah, don’t take it from me again.” She growled, digging her nails into his skin. “Don’t fucking take my cock from me again, don’t make me walk away. This is mine.” 

Harry hissed, loving the sting on his skin and how she spoke. Y/N could be a fierce little bitch and he loved that about her. She hadn’t been pleased tonight and he’d taken it too far, but she was going to have no doubt how much he had been missing her. Their hate sex had been good, but their makeup sex was even better. “Never, Mama. Never, it’s all yours. You’re right.” His voice soothed, pushing back into her and reveling in how hot she was. Tight. Everything he could possibly need. “It’s yours always, and I don’t want anyone else. Jus’ want you to let me love on you, make you feel good. Be my girl again. He had everything else he wanted, but Y/N was the missing link. He’d fucked up with her, but he wouldn’t do it again. Not when this was how explosive it was between them. 

“You better fucking treat me right.” Her hand held his face now. “Better be so nice to me, buy me f-flowers and hold my hand… Fuck me good, make sure all the other b-bitches know that you’re taken.” Her legs wound around him and he felt a heel surely to bruise his ass, but he didn’t care. “Don’t let them think you’re available because you’re an attention whore.”

Harry moaned at the degrading words, because they were true. He was indeed an attention whore and he’d never deny it. “Only for you, baby. Want all your fucking attention… fuck.” He hissed, thrusting slower as he looked at where they joined. “Creaming on my cock already, really must have missed me.” Noses brushed before he fucked harder into her, trying to bring her to the edge. “Fingers didn’t cut it, did they? No toy can make you feel as good as his. Know that you needed Daddy t’fuck you right.” 

Y/N let out a wail as he tugged her hips up, his face leaving hers to sit on his knees while he fucked her. He was getting the spot she needed, saying the words she wanted and she felt hot all over. Syrupy, sticky hot as she dripped down her ass as the sound of their sex filled his room. The music muffled behind the door didn’t matter, all she wanted to hear was his dirty talk and the sound of their skin. “Yes, I needed it Daddy- Fuck me, fuck me right. You always make me cum over and over…” her head rolled back on the mattress as her fingers found his wrists, grounding herself as he fucked her steady and hard. 

His eyes took in the view of bouncing tits and a messy cock pistoning in and out of her creamy cunt, breathing heavy while he felt her tighten up on him. His goal was always to make sure she came over and over, a generous lover being one of his positive attributes. “Mhm… It’s never changed, Mama. M’gonna give it to you just like that. God, you look so fucking pretty on my dick, baby. Need to capture it.” He adjusted slightly as he took his phone out, thankful his pants had only been down a few inches as he pressed record. A breathy laugh left him as he fucked into her willing body, aiming the camera down at her face. “Say hi to the camera, pretty girl.” He crooned. 

“H-Hi Daddy.” She mewled, preening under the attention. It was a guilty pleasure of hers, knowing he had the filthy images and videos on his phone. It was even better to watch it back and see just how wrecked she got from him. “You’re gonna be nice to me so you- so you don’t have to delete these, right?” He’d had to delete all the videos when they broke up, but she hoped this time they’d get to stick around forever. 

“Of course, my sweet girl. Never gonna fuck this up again… Not when we look so fucking good together. Feel so fucking good together…. Fuck, look at that…” He got a close up of her cunt as it stretched to fit him, clinging to his length. “You’re gonna cum, I can feel it.” His eyes met hers as he started to get her to the edge, her face glistening and eyes hazy. “Go on, baby. Do it. Cum on my cock, make a fucking mess.” 

Harry could feel it as she did, the high pitched whine of his name and the bite of her nails as she writhed on his cock, the camera capturing her face as she did so. Mouth open and eyes rolled back, the blissed out smile following as he fucked her through it. He didn’t stop, tossing the phone to the side as he kissed her again as his cock pulsed, trying to hold back his own orgasm. “Mmm… fuck. I love when you cum on me. So gorgeous, all mine.” He rubbed their noses together again while humping into her, her impossibly hot cunt clinging to him as he peppered kisses to her face. “But I’m not done with you yet.” 

“No?” She grinned, feeling drunk. “Should have known, you sex maniac- fuck.” She pushed his hand away from her cunt. “Give a girl a minute, fucks sake.” 

“Just got you back, can you blame me?” He smiled against her mouth, sucking her lower lip into his mouth and grazing it with his teeth. He wanted her to look freshly fucked and glowing tomorrow when she had to meet up with her friends for brunch, sure to piss them off with the news that they’re back together. “Mean it, I’m not letting you go this time. Never again.” His smirk got bigger. “Pussy’s too fucking good.” 

“Shut up, slut.” She pushed his face away playfully. You’ve got more than one orgasm to go until I think about taking you back. Prove your worth to me.” His cock could be felt twitching inside her yet again. 

“Whatever you say, Mama.” He cooed, pulling out of her regretfully. “Now, get on your knees. I’ve got to say sorry to your pretty ass.”

[jupipedia]

neither here nor there ! — h. brown. ↳ " face down, ass up, that's the way i like getting fucked ! " ↳ content warning : nsfw ( minors do not interact. ), unprotected s*x, marking, pet names ( lovie, sweetheart, etc. ), overst*mulation, multiple org*sms, forced org*sms ( ? ), cre*mpie, slight or*l ( fem. receiving. ), c*m eating, not proof read lol, etc. ↳ dedicated to: @starsoir !

you'd love to pretend that you don't know how you got where you were, but you knew exactly how you ended up in this position; face down with your ass in the air as hobie brown fucked you mindlessly.

you were dressed in one of the most revealing dresses ever made and had one goal in mind : fuck hobie brown.

you were more than the average groupie, having actually listened and enjoyed his band before you even thought of fucking him. your desire was sparked when you attended one of his gigs on a whim, wanting to listen to good music as you got a drink at your local bar. at one point, you made your way to the front of the crowd, careful not to spill your drink on anyone as you slipped through the dense ocean of bodies. once you reached the front, hobie brown stood in all his anarchist glory, shredding away on his electric guitar and quickly sparking your interest.

since then, you've made it a mission to be the hottest girl to ever touch the same sheets as the man. you kept up to date on his pop up shows, his appearances, and the new music his band would release every now and then.

tonight, you finally captured his attention when you stood at the front of the crowd, all dolled up and singing the lyrics to his songs. your dress left little to the imagination and piqued his interest once the two of you made eye contact as you continued to lip sync along to the word, smiling sultrily as you gazed up at him.

his set was barely finished as he removed his guitar from torso, jumped into the crowd, and made his way to the door with your wrist latched in his hold, loose enough for you to pull away if you weren't interested. he could barely keep his hands off of you as he pulled you into the back of the car, his driver raising the partition once his hands began to lower to the swell of your ass. his fingers wandered close to your heat, only to stop at your panty line, affectively teasing you as the two of engaged in a fighting kiss. his kiss was hard, having no care for the lack of air in his lung as he continued to pull you closer to him. your tongue pushed against his, marveling at the cold metal ball in the center of his appendage.

the car was not parked when hobie pulled you out of it, fixing your tousled hair before pulling you through the lobby of the hotel and into the elevator. the doors hadn't closed and his lips were already back on you, hot kisses being pressed into the crook of your neck.

his eagerness took you aback, surprised that such a simple act of knowing his lyrics was enough to rile him up so much. you knew the skimpy outfit had to play a grander part in things as he tugged on it slightly, almost as if he was holding himself back from ripping off of you right in the elevator.

"leng ting you are," he mumbled against your skin, kitten licking over the small bruises he created from him nipping at your skin.

"i try," your words are barely heard as you suddenly become breathless. this is the first time you'd really spoken, other than him ensuring that you wanted to spend the night with him. you'd been to preoccupied with each other's lips that you hadn't much time to ask any questions, let alone exchange compliments.

"you do a lot more than try, lovie. didn't know i had fans as beautiful as you. or as devout. 's cute watching my lyrics fall from your pretty lips," he replied, returning to task of marking every inch of your skin, hands grasping your ass in a bruising hold as he pulled you closer to him.

"what can i say, they're good lyrics," you mutter, words coming out breathless as he sucked on the spot just below your ear.

the elevator doors opened and he wasted no time pulling you in the direction of his room, wanting nothing but to have his way with you. he reached his room, opening the door and pulling you in. you'd barely finished removing your heels when he propped you up against the door, fingers making quick work of your dress and thong.

which led you to your current position, face pushed deep into the blankets as your ass was propped up in the air as hobie fucked your into cunt. his strokes were deep and forceful as you jerked forward each time he entered you. his veined cock scraped the walls of your tight pussy, evoking whines and moans from you and, surprisingly, hobie.

you imagined that he'd be a grunter or groaner but you were even happier to find out that he was a whiner. they weren't high pitched by any means but the whiny lilt in his remark heightened your already overspilling arousal. in your previous position, his mouth had been next to your ear, allowing you to hear the praise loud and clear. while this current position put a bit of distance between the two of you, you were still able to make out his whines when they weren't drowned out by your own noises.

"f-feel so good around my cock. so fucking good," he grunts out, angling his body differently, causing the head of his cock to bump against your cervix. you blindly reached back and pushed futilely at his pelvis, running from his deep strokes. "don't tell me it's too much for you, sweetheart."

"so deep! too deep," you mewled, still pushing him away without result. the pleasure was beyond overwhelming. your mind clouded as you continued to take the pleasure, too lost in it to speak or breathe properly. his cologne and natural musk lingered through the air, suffocating you in his presence.

your legs soon begin to mimic the twitch of your cunt as your orgasm began to build. your eyes welled with tears at the euphoric pressure filling your stomach.

"go on and cum for me, yeah?" hobie draped himself over your frame, whispering softly in your ear. the return of his aroused whines so close to your ear did nothing but push you closer to the edge, leaving you teetering on the edge of a release.

hobie's hand slid down your abdomen, using his fore and middle finger to draw circles on your clit and effectively bringing you to an earth shattering release. you cry out his name, tone doused in pleasure as you threw your head back to rest upon his shoulder. he continued to pump into you, prolonging your high. almost as if your orgasm was a catalyst, hobie's hips jerked and he stilled, pouring his cum into you warm pussy.

as your orgasm subsided, hobie wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you up to rest against his chest before restarting his ministrations. you were overstimulated as you tried to escape his grasp, hoping for a quick break before continuing.

"you thought we were finished? nah, i could go all night with you," he said, holding you firm against his torso as he buried himself snug into your core. you dug your nails into his forearm, attempting to ground yourself as you melted due to the immense pleasure.

this position only allowed hobie to move minimally, but he sat snug against your cervix, each thrust pushing against it in a pleasurable way. he drew shallow gasps from you as you tried to steady your breathing. one of his hands groped at your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers causing you to tighten around him. he chuckled into your neck as he fucked his seed back into you, relishing in the hot feeling of your vice.

"gonna give me another one, yeah. hmm, pretty girl?" he teased, pinching your nipple and quicken the pace of his finger on your clit. he smirked at the release of your pitchy moans before going back to kiss on your neck.

"'m gonna cum. please! gonna cum!" you wailed, withering in his hold as you began to release. you felt his nod and your entire body shook from the intensity of your orgasm. hobie whispered sweet nothings in your ear before he allowed himself to drown in his own pleasure.

"fuck, you feel so good. hmm. fuck, had my eyes on you since you stepped to the front of the crowd. leng ting singing all m'lyrics. nearly came in my jeans," he admitted in between whines. his grip tightened on you as his moans reached a crescendo and his seed spilled into you.

his hold on you loosened but didn't drop completely as he came down from his high. his breath tickled your ear as he tried to calm himself, savoring the warmth of your walls. he released you and you fell onto your chest, ass still propped in the air as he shifted to the foot of the bed.

"hobie, please," you begged, wanting nothing but rest as he inserted his head between your thighs and lapped at your core, determined to eat your mixed essence from your used cunt.

"jus' cleaning you, pretty," he mumbled, mouth full and tongue busy. your hands made their way to his wicks as his tongue dove into your pussy. the wet muscle scooped his cum out of your entrance, rubbing perfectly against your walls. you felt a foreign pressure rise and you tugged lightly at the man's head, wanting to remove him from your core before you came.

"hobie, s'too much," you whined with no avail as he sucked on your clit, changing his mission from eating your cum to making you release once again.

this release was a bit different as short streams of liquid shot from your pussy and into his welcoming mouth. he hummed as he slurped into your cunt, ignoring your attempts at pushing his head away until he decided he was finished.

he left his position and crawled up toward the pillows, pulling you into his chest as he laid back.

"we can talk in morning, yeah? wanna get to know you a bit," he muttered, exhaustion prevalent in his tone as his spoke with eyes closed. you couldn't reply as you slipped into a sleeping state.

mission accomplished.

© jupipedia. do not repost, plagiarized, or falsely claim my work. likes, comments, and reblogs are welcome!

[gurugirl]

guru, i have a requests bc I need something ✨fluffy✨ as im healing from closing my fingers in my front door!!

could you write any harry au finding out that the reader is in paramore and wrote the only exception for him?

Oh my gosh your fingers! Ahh I hope you didn’t break anything! 😬

Feel better soon hon ❤️‍🩹 Enjoy! (also I hope this is what you wanted )

A/N: I didn't mention Paramore specifically (except for some bits of the song) nor are there any physical descriptions of Y/n so it's inclusive! Imagine who you like! xoxo

Word Count: 1,174

Warning: FLUFFFFFFFFYYYY SWEET! (Harry has a quick moment of anxiety)

. .

Harry wasn’t sure what he was looking at when he saw it. Maybe you were just playing a joke on him—? He always thought your singing voice kind of reminded him of a band he'd heard on the radio a few times… but this?

There you were on video. Right in his phone... wearing a very short skirt hopping around on stage like that. You were usually more of a jeans and t-shirt or sweater gal. It was clearly you–but it was like watching a doppelganger of you.

He blinked his eyes at his screen. His apartment was quiet as he was just waking up and still sitting in his bed. It was a normal morning routine. Wake up and check social media, emails, his daily schedule…

He had no idea how this had come across his feed. You. Like that. He rubbed his eyes. Was he still dreaming?

You hadn't been dating all that long but you were both already head over heels. It'd happened so fast and there was still so much to learn about one another but he knew you were it just like he hoped you felt the same. He knew you had a band and he'd heard you sing. You had guitars at your place and you wrote poems and lyrics in your notebook all the time. You were talented.

A text popped up on his screen from you.

See you in five minutes!

Scooting himself out of bed so he could at least brush his teeth he clicked on the page that had posted the video and there were more! Of you! Of this band that he'd heard of in passing. He held the phone up and started watching the next video. You were singing for a semi-large crowd. He pressed the button on his electric toothbrush and felt his heart thrumming harder and harder as you started singing another song. A song he'd heard on the radio.

It was surreal to see you like that. Why hadn't you told him? Why was he finding out like this? Did you not want him to know? Did you not see a future with him at all?

The questions in his brain were buzzing as various puzzle pieces began to fall into place. It made so much sense now that he was thinking of everything but it also had him worried that you never told him. Maybe you didn't trust him.

When he was done brushing his teeth he splashed water on his face and pressed his palms over his sink counter. He was going to have to confront you.

He looked down at his phone and clicked on the next video. The most recently uploaded video.

"I'm Y/n! Thank you for being here with us tonight!" The crowd was loud and he could hear some whistles and cheering.

"This next song is about a guy that I'm falling for hard. It wasn't supposed to happen. I didn't think it ever would. I haven't told him yet but I have this song." You began to sway as the guitarist started to play. "This is for love. For anyone who's felt it. This is for Harry."

He blinked at the screen and you began to sing.

"When I was younger, I saw my daddy cry and curse at the wind..."

Harry was startled when he heard you knocking at his door. You were there and he was reeling from everything he'd just learned. Pausing the video he made his way to his door and opened it to see your pretty face. You immediately stepped in and wrapped your arms around his middle for a big hug.

He hesitantly placed his arms around you after he closed his door. But you noticed something was off. Harry was still holding his phone in his hand as you looked up at him.

"Everything okay?"

He looked like he was unable to put thoughts into words. Like he was stunned or hadn't expected to see you, even though you'd made plans to come over. Stepping back you clutched your hands over his wrists. "Harry?"

His throat bobbed when he swallowed and he blinked his eyes. "You're famous."

Your heart stopped. You knew he'd find out soon. You'd planned on telling him but it was always tricky telling people. You'd dated people in the past that were just looking for clout or trying to get there own name out there by using you. So it was a precaution. But you didn't need to hide it from Harry anymore.

"Yes. Well... kind of. I mean... a lot of people don't really know who I am. I'm not like at that level of fame but—"

"You don't trust me?"

"I do trust you, Harry. I promise." You slid your palms up his forearms and stepped in closer. "I was going to tell you. I just got a little scared because everything happened so fast between us. It just... I wanted to make sure first. I swear I've been planning to tell you because I... god... I just want to tell you everything."

"I don't understand why you never said anything." He shook his head but he didn't pull away from you.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to find out before I told you. I wanted to share something really special with you and tell you in this like... really romantic way."

He moved his arm and opened up his phone before you heard your song being playe. The song you wrote for him. His eyes flitted from you to his phone as the lyrics you sang poured out around you.

Because none of it was ever worth the risk... Well, you are the only exception...

Harry looked at you, a sheen of tears in his eyes as he let the song play out. You kept your hand on his forearm and let the lyrics do the talking. You just hoped he understood. You hoped that he could see why it took you a bit to work up to telling him.

Oh, and I'm on way to believing…

He tucked his phone into his sweatpants pocket and looked at you with soft eyes. Taking his hands into yours you smiled up at him.

"I have a lot to tell you."

He puffed out a low laugh. "I think that's an understatement."

"Are you mad at me?"

He shook his head. "Kind of hard to be mad after hearing that song you wrote for me. Is all that true, Y/n?" He pulled his hand out of yours and lifted his warm palm up to your cheek.

"Yes. Every word of it."

"Does that mean you love me?"

Your heartbeat tripped up on itself as you nodded. "I do. I love you."

His eyes were piercing and so deep with emotion, you'd drown in them happily. "I guess it's time for me to confess something to you then, too." He grinned and you felt his hand move back to cradle your nape. "I love you too."

. .

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@gmikaelson

[steddieas-shegoes]

Country singer Steve Harrington, who has always leaned more into the pop country side of things (think Wanted by Hunter Hayes), but wants his third album to be more true to old school country roots.

His label agrees but only if he works with Eddie Munson, a rock star who had to leave the spotlight when he got kicked out of his band for, well, rockstar behavior gone too far.

Steve isn't amused, especially because he doesn't care for metal music or rock star shenanigans. He was "raised better" and doesn't think Eddie could sit down and write songs with actual emotion and feeling.

Cue long songwriting sessions where Eddie is trying his hardest to be on his best behavior because he knows this is his last shot at being taken seriously, and Steve being surprised every time Eddie proves that he's talented as a songwriter and musician, well outside the scope of just metal and rock.

They write a song that they're both so proud of, Steve asks if he'll record it with him just for fun. The released version would just be Steve.

Eddie agrees.

It's an incredible duet, something country music has needed forever, but Eddie doesn't want that version out there.

The label genuinely accidentally releases their version instead of the Steve only version. As soon as they realize, they remove it from official places, but it's too late.

Fans have already heard it and have gone crazy over it, begging them to let the radio play this version, begging for this version to be available for streaming. The Steve version is great, but it doesn't have the emotion that's laced in the tone of them singing together.

Eddie finally gives in when he sees how happy Steve is about the reaction to it.

But the label decides they want them to tour together, have Eddie work as his opening act, perform his acoustic songs that haven't been officially released anywhere. Eddie can't do it.

He can't go back into that lifestyle. He couldn't do it to his band, who made him promise that he'd come back to them when he got his shit straight. He can't do it to his fans, who stuck by him through some rough shit, but probably wouldn't support a fucking country music career. He definitely can't do it to Steve, who deserves to have someone with him who can be trusted not to go off the deep end.

So he runs. He hides. His uncle welcomes him home, congratulates him on finally embracing his country roots.

It doesn't take long for Steve to find him.

Because he'd been more honest with Steve than he'd ever been with anyone. He told him about his childhood, his Uncle Wayne, his struggle to make it. He told him about his worse struggle when he did make it, how he got in with the wrong people, the wrong things. Prioritized the lifestyle more than his own life.

Of course Steve knew where he'd run to.

Of course Steve came to remind him what his life could be if he allowed himself to find new priorities.

Steve's lips were pretty persuasive, but not nearly as persuasive as his promises to remind him what he could have if he kept his life his priority.

"But what if I let you down?"

"You won't."

"But-"

"No. You won't. You're gonna do amazing things for yourself. And I'm gonna be there to see it happen. That's all."

And he was.

They co-wrote Steve's entire album while Eddie worked on recording his own original songs. He liked that it was an old school rock and roll feel, some blues, some country, some hints of metal sneaking in on a couple songs.

He called his band to come help him with a song, hesitant to even ask, but they came. Of course they came.

He called his Uncle Wayne to play banjo on a song, worried that he wouldn't like the heavier electric guitar notes over it. Of course he loved being involved.

When their tour started, he let himself actually feel nervous.

But instead of running, he looked at the man who supported him through it, even when his own career was on the line.

Of course Steve was there.

[burningembers91]

Tennessee Whiskey - Kang Dae-Ho x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

A Voice Like Honey

Synopsis: When trouble breaks out at the bar, Kang Dae-Ho steps in to save you

A/N: I just want to give him a big hug 🥹

The bar was full to bursting tonight. There were so many people packed into the tiny space, you were having to turn people away. The sound of laughter, chatter and the ocassional smash as a patron dropped a glass on the tiled floor was almost deafening. But, as soon as you got up to sing, the whole room went silent. Every pair of eyes were trained on you, your golden honey voice, rich and warm, captivating your audience.

Kang Dae-Ho watched you from behind the bar as he polished a glass, mesmerised by your very essence. You were singing Fleetwood Mac covers tonight, and were halfway through his favourite song, Landslide when he noticed them. The group of tourists who had been steadily draining the bars supply of beer since early afternoon. They were pointing at you, making lewd gestures with their hands, sniggering to themselves as they watched you sing.

Dae-Ho gripped the glass in his hand tightly, so tightly he heard it crack. They’d been nothing but trouble since they turned up. Flirting with you, trying to get you to sit at their table with them. You took it in your stride though, never rising to the increasingly salacious comments. You were always so poised, so unfazed. Dae-Ho admired that about you.

Your set finished and you jumped down from the stage, heading back around the bar to join him.

“You sounded great,” his smiled, handing you a glass of water to soothe your parched throat. “You’ll be heard act to follow.”

“You’ll do great,” you reassured him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. Electricity shot through every atom of his body at your touch. He wondered if you knew just how crazy you drove him. “You have an incredible voice.”

Even in the dim light of the bar, you could see the heat rise through his cheeks. You loved making him blush; he always looked so handsome when he did.

As Dae-Ho mounted the stage, his eyes never left you. Each song he played was for you, every word dedicated to you. As his set progressed, the tourists got closer and closer to you. He could see them talking to you, could see you roll your eyes as they leaned on the bar, their eyes trained on your breast. He cut his set short, ignoring the girls who hung around the stage to wait for him. He made his way over to you, his anger rising, his fists balling. He’d learned enough English during his travels to know that nothing the men were saying to you was nice.

“I think you should leave,” Dae-Ho growled, hoping the shake in his voice wasn’t obvious. He hated confrontation, but he hated seeing you harassed even more.

“Why?” One of the tourists asked, his thick southern American accent slurred, evidence of just how inebriated he was. “I was simply offering to buy this beautiful lady a whiskey.”

“I don’t drink whiskey,” you smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. Dae-Ho could tell you were reaching the end of your tether with them.

“That’s probably cuz you ain’t never tried Tennessee whiskey,” the man winked, his beer scented breath hot on your face.

“Leave her alone.” Dae-Ho gritted his teeth, readying himself for a fight. He’d never fought anyone before, but for you he’d take on an entire army.

“Or what?” The man jabbed a thick finger into his chest, knocking him off balance.

“That’s enough!” You warned, but the men were too drunk to care. Without warning, his fist shot out, catching Dae-Ho square in the face. He stumbled back, falling into the crowd that had formed to watch the drama unfolding.

Dae-Ho tried to scramble to his feet, but there were too many people packed too closely together and he couldn’t move away fast enough. As a fist connected with his face again, he felt hands pulling him by the shoulders, dragging him away. Some of the crowd had clearly seen sense, breaking the fight up before it could escalate.

“Get out!” You snapped at the men, “get out before I call the police.”

You didn’t pay attention to their protestations, hurrying over to Dae-Ho.

“Let me have a look.” You checked his face over, his skin already red and swollen. “We need to ice your face. Can’t have you coming into work with a shiner.”

You took him into the back room, placing an ice pack his eye and jaw. He couldn’t look at you, too embarrassed to see your reaction. He couldn’t even save you from a bunch of drunks. He was nothing, a nobody.

“Those guys were pricks,” you told him, sensing his discomfort. You wished Dae-Ho could see himself the way you did. You wished he saw the funny, sensitive, talented and kind person he was. He always seemed to doubt himself, always seemed to be so unsure. But you could see how amazing he was, could see how much he cared for people, could see how much he cared for you.

“They were nothing more than jumped up cowboys,” you said, removing the ice pack to check his injuries. He’d definitely have a black eye tomorrow.

“Girls like cowboys though,” he mumbled, turning away from you. The shame was crushing, overwhelming.

“Not all girls,” you smiled. “I prefer musicians, who also double as a bartender.”

Dae-Ho looked up at you, momentarily forgetting the throbbing pain in his face.

“You do?” He asked, dumbstruck.

“Mhmm,” you smiled, pulling your stool a little closer to his. Brushing a stray lock of hair that had fallen from his bun, you traced a line down his check. “I like you, Dae-Ho. Very much.”

“Oh. Right.” He screamed at himself to think of something to say, something profound, maybe something sexy. But you always seemed to render him speechless. He’d spent a hundred nights imagining a hundred ways in which he’d tell you how you made him feel. But in this moment, he could only smile.

You’d said it yourself; you didn’t like cowboys, you liked him. Very much. As your lips met his, soft and slow, Dae-Ho was sure he’d never been happier. You tasted like you sang: like honey.

“Walk me home?” You asked, pressing another small kiss on his lips.

“Always,” he smiled. He would never tire of you. His beautiful bartender with a voice like golden honey.

[good-griief]

losing game pt. 1

HEYYYY i'm actually back with a lil smutty angsty ellie fic bc i needed to write for this woman... anyway here's part one its only a lil angsty i just wanted an excuse to write rly gay smut so enjoy and p2 tmrw!!

as most of yall know any reader i write (as a poc writer) has no race, i just wanted to use a picture of taylor momsen bc i love tpr and that's definitely the vibe of the music in this fic

part two part three

read me click me

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Being in the rock scene was your dream. You started with small gigs, then small venues and festivals, and now you had a band to go along with your music. Your career was kicking off and it felt like heaven; every performance, every song, all the adrenaline made for some of the best nights of your life. 

When you picked your band, you hand-selected each member, and to say you picked your guitarist for any reason other than how pretty she was would be a lie. Yes, she was amazing, but you also couldn’t speak when she walked in for her interview. She just smiled, laughing at the way you stared at her before your manager started talking for you. He often did, she came to realize. 

She still accepted the moment you offered her the position, but she made it clear that she didn’t like your manager. She accepted for you; to be with you.

And she slowly became your favorite part of performing. You had this way of connecting with each other — of course, you were close with all of your band members, but she was different. You’d spend time together one-on-one, smoking a joint and talking about nothing until one of you had to force yourself to go. You’d get coffee together, have dinners, and even spend the night at each other’s apartments. Whenever someone asked about you two, you said you were best friends. Even when she was waiting for you at the end of the carpet, and you both laughed at your answer like it was some kind of inside joke. 

Even when you were onstage, on your knees, singing your most sensual song to her as she melted to your level, smirking as her hips thrust against the electric guitar. Sometimes, she even sang with you. You’d hold her face, or thread your fingers through her hair as you held eye contact or rested your forehead against hers with shut eyes, and if there was a break in the song you’d kiss her hard — a stage kiss that the crowd would erupt in cheers over. But they happened offstage, too… after a shared joint or during a party. Nothing more.

She’d let you place your fingers on the strings of her guitar to find the chords as you stood behind her, her head leaning back on your shoulder in a way that showed the muscles on her neck as she breathed in heavy, hot breaths. She let you wrap your hand around her throat, groaning in your ear as fans caught pictures of you dragging your tongue over her sweat-ridden jaw or biting her shoulder as she grinned. 

There was one night you let her take over the mic as you danced along. She played her guitar, singing and watching you until you sang with her. Your hands drifted down her thighs as you kneeled behind her, the crowd screaming as you lifted her shirt and came around to kiss the line of hair below her belly button. She smirked, stopping her playing and fisting your hair to pull your head back as you laughed. 

Nights when you’d take off your shirt, tossing it into the audience and pouring your water on yourself before she came to lick it up, tongue dragging over top of your breasts as you sang breathlessly. There were times she had to wrap her arm around your back to keep you standing when she did that, the action so intimate, so arousing, that it was hard to remember why you were on stage and not in your dressing room, alone with her. Some nights she’d take her shirt off and give it to you if she didn’t want anyone else to see you, smiling at you with her shirt on before you came over to kiss her cheek. 

There were moments with other band members, but none of them were like her. They didn’t make you feel the same — none of them were her. 

So, when the end of her contract came up and she talked to you about leaving to pursue other things, you were devastated. You didn’t think she’d leave, but after a talk with your manager, her decision was set. 

“I think you should,” you told her anyway. “Whatever makes you happy, Els, seriously. I’ll support whatever you do.” She smiled, taking your hand to kiss. On the inside of her fingers, and yours, you could see the matching tattoos you got months ago, threading your fingers together so they match up. 

You dedicated your last show with her to her. It was a surprise, and she cried when you said it in the beginning, but she just turned away to shake it off quickly. At least, she did until you started crying during a song you wrote for her — it was another surprise from you and the rest of the band, but the minute she saw you crying she couldn’t keep it together. She came over to hug you, kissing the top of your head as she let you hide your face in her chest. The crowd awed, but Ellie took the mic to say you’d be back. She set it down and lifted your head to make you look at her. “I love you, pretty girl,” she said, away from the microphone so no one heard her, but they could sound it out if they wanted to. “Please don’t cry.” She wiped beneath your eyes, ignoring the camera flashes and screams from the crowd. “I hate that I can’t do anything about it right now.”

You smiled. “I’m gonna miss you so much.” 

She laughed at you. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” She nodded to the microphone. “Finish my song, I wanna hear the rest.”

“You’re an idiot,” you said, now standing at the mic and making the audience laugh. 

You were such an idiot. 

She never told you what other things she wanted to pursue, but you should’ve known. 

Of-fucking-course she was pursuing her own music. Of-fucking-course she was starting her own band. With yours. Of-fucking-course all of their contracts ending over the course of a few months would amount to this. Of-fucking-course each last show you dedicated to them meant nothing. 

You couldn’t even be mad. It was smart. But you were beyond hurt. 

And she still dedicated her first show to you. She texted you herself, asking you to come. 

When would you learn your lesson?

“I just want to thank you guys for coming,” she said to an audience of mostly your fans. “You might know me — us — from a backup band, but we got a little tired of being backup, didn’t we?” The band laughed. “So, uh, my name’s Ellie if you don’t know… probably don’t,” she laughed as if you’d never thanked or introduced your band before. “And I just want to dedicate this show to the previous artist I worked with. I wouldn’t be here without her, so she means… a lot,” she said it so fucking snarky, “to me, and… I have a few songs for her… if you all wanna guess which ones they are.”

And her first song was the biggest Fuck You song you’d ever heard. 

Still, she texted you after the show. 

She didn’t ask you to come to another show, and maybe that was because you announced a break from music, or because she was getting so much attention that she didn’t care. You saw her at award shows sometimes, and she would cheer when you won. Of course, you’d cheer for her too, but it never went beyond that. Almost like it was an unspoken rule that you weren’t on speaking terms. 

But the minute you came back to the scene, almost a year later, she texted you for the first time since her first show. 

You didn’t reply at first. You hadn’t kept up with her at all during your break, your manager telling you to stay away from any of her and her band's promotions and interviews. He had you block all of them and their numbers, but you couldn’t bring yourself to block Ellie’s. And you were glad you didn’t. Usually, you didn’t have your phone on you until late at night, your manager having your assistant handle your messages and social media, but you were about to fall asleep when she texted. As if she remembered your schedule. 

And it prompted you to look her up. Then her and you, and you could see countless videos. 

every time ellie has mentioned “her” compilation was what you decided to click on. It was made by an account that was clearly a big fan of hers, so you readied yourself for any hate that’d be thrown your way. 

The first clip was an interview, asking her why she split from your team. “You know, I really loved her and her team,” she said, “still really love her. It’s just hard being reminded, constantly, that you're a stepping stone and your time is running low, you know? We might’ve held her back if we stayed, and she was moving on to better things,” it sounded like she was quoting someone else. “—I mean, she always wanted us to shine, and I’m so grateful for her. I really miss being on stage with her, but I don’t miss anything else besides her and I think that says a lot.” 

Another was on her way into a hotel, a reporter asking if you congratulated her on an award. You could remember seeing her at the show before your manager called you over just as she was walking your way. She laughed, “haven’t talked to her in months.” 

Another of a sit-down interview with the whole band, your name being brought up and Ellie snapping at them, “You know I really wish people would stop asking me about her.” She got choked up as the others answered, nose reddening when the question finally circled back to her. “We’re not friends, we don’t talk, she doesn’t want anything to do with us, so...” She shrugged, pissed off. 

The next was another interview. It seemed she was just having to get used to being asked about you. “I’ve tried to reach out,” she said, “maybe she changed her number.” 

Another. “She was my best friend, I miss her a lot. I hope she’s doing okay.” 

And another, asking about her songs. “Yeah, I wrote a lot about her — No, I don’t regret it. I feel like it reflects a moment in time, you know? It was a really nice moment — I mean, I still have our matching tattoos,” she laughed, showing the tattoos on the insides of her fingers. 

Another, after a show. She was always emotional after shows, and it made it harder to watch as she wiped her eyes when the interviewer asked what your relationship really was. “I don’t fucking know,” was her answer before she walked away. 

Some of them were sweet, memories you shared that made you laugh. Others made you sick with guilt, like when she mentioned your lack of response or you blocking the band. Some just made you sad. And you felt like an idiot for doing this, but after reading the comments, some defending you for not running your socials or phone, or angry with you for the same reason, you played a compilation of the two of you together from the same account. 

Then you called Ellie. 

It rang once before sending you to voicemail and you just hung up. You kept your attention on the video to distract yourself from how much that stung. 

But she called right back. 

You stared at the phone for a moment, seeing the contact poster of the two of you at her last show with you lighting up your screen and feeling your words get caught in your throat as your eyes stung. You grabbed the phone, answering quickly. “Ellie?” It was silent, “Ellie, I just wanted to say, I had no idea… I understand if you never want to talk to me again, but I—“ You cleared your throat, trying not to sound like you were about to cry. “I’m really sorry.”

“I thought — I didn’t think you were going to — It feels so good to hear your voice,” was what she settled on after stammering through a few sentences. “You have no idea how much I’ve, just, wanted to talk to you…”

You bit down on your lip as you listened to her. She didn’t sound angry, but she clearly had so much to say to you. Her voice was filled with feeling as she went on, trying to get everything out as if she thought you’d hang up the phone at any minute. You just listened, shutting your eyes and bringing your hand over your face as hot tears spilled down your cheeks. You couldn’t bring yourself to understand why you were so emotional, maybe it was the fact that you misunderstood her so easily, or that your manager had ruined your relationship with her, or maybe it was even that you were just getting to hear her talk after so long, but she paused the moment she heard you trying to calm your breathing. 

“Please don’t cry.” She already knew. “I hate it when you cry and I can’t do anything about it.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “Keep talking. What were you saying?” You looked at your computer, auto-playing something else of the two of you. It was clips of you on stage and during interviews, heads on each other's shoulders, hugging, kissing each other’s cheeks, singing together. You pursed your lips, tears coming quicker as you slammed your laptop closed. “Ellie,” you cut her off, biting at your lip as you looked at the empty spot on your bed she used to take some nights, “what are you doing right now?” 

“I’m on my way,” she said quietly, and you could hear her shuffling on the other line. She was probably getting ready to go to sleep, and wake up to no response just like every other time she messaged you. And you would have woken up with no idea she even texted you. “Do you want me to stay on the phone?”

“If you’re already headed to sleep—“

“I’m coming over,” she said. “I’m already in the car, I’ll be there in ten, okay?”

“Okay…” Now you felt bad for making her leave her house, looking outside at the snowfall and sniffling as you tried to wipe your eyes. “I’ll see you soon.” You hung up the phone and groaned at yourself, shoving your head in your pillow. 

You opened your laptop, typing in the song names people speculated she wrote for you and queuing them all. Not one was the one you heard during her first show, and it made you feel even worse by the time the doorbell rang. You moved off of your bed, wiping your eyes and going to the door to buzz her up to your apartment. 

You waited by the door, balls of your feet kicking at the floor as you crossed your arms and waited for her to knock. It was the same rhythm she used to knock in, and where it usually made you smile, it made you cry more. God, you missed her, and you didn’t even realize how much until now. You took too long to open the door and you heard the lock click. She still had her set of keys, and that made you feel worse, too. She’d probably texted you about returning them, and you never got to see it. Nothing was making you feel better as she opened the door, and seeing her face just made it worse. 

“God,” she muttered, immediately bringing her arms around your waist. She tucked her head into your shoulder, shutting her eyes as your arms went around her shoulders. Her hands held you like you’d disappear the minute she let go, thumbs running soothingly back and forth over your shirt. “I missed you so much,” she said. “They all wanted me to get over it, but I knew there was no way — I knew we had something more than just — fuck, I know you better than they do. I know I do.” Her lips brushed your skin with every word. “I missed you so fucking much,” she repeated, hugging you tighter. 

Just her touch made your tears slow to a stop, relaxing into her hold and hugging her so tight, but she didn’t care. She was happy to be back in your arms. Your hand drifted to her hair, cradling her head to your shoulder. You could remember the nights you spent playing with her hair until you fell asleep and the thought made you run your fingers through it. She sighed, pulling her head back but refusing to let you go. 

There was a silence as you moved her hair out of her face, tucking the strands behind her ear. Slowly, your hand cupped her cold, flushed cheek. She leaned into your touch, eyes falling to your lips as your thumb stroked her cheek. 

“Ellie,” you muttered and she hummed, turning her head to kiss the inside of your palm. “I missed you, too,” was all you chose to say despite the wanting in the way you said her name. Her hand took yours as she kissed the inside of your wrist. “So much…” Her kisses trailed up your arm, with more of a meaning behind them than any of the kisses you’d given each other before. 

You moved your hand back to her face, turning her head toward you. She met your eyes, hers shining in the low light. They fell to your lips again and she leaned in, kissing your cheek. She kissed away every tear stain, still wet and warm. She moved closer and closer to your mouth, but never kissed you, kissing away the stains on your other cheek instead. 

Then you turned your head, catching her lips for a brief moment before she pulled back. There was a moment of hesitation, neither of you able to speak before she pressed her lips to yours. They were still cold from being out in the snow, but they warmed as you kissed her back, pressing your body impossibly closer to hers as she sighed into your mouth. She couldn’t tell you how long she had wanted this, but she knew it was long enough that her waiting for you was pathetic.

[waitingonher]

ELECTRIC TOUCH — [jason grace dating headcanons]

author's note: i need 2024 to be THE year. 2023 did me soooo dirty. im praying

dating JASON GRACE would be like dating someone from a regency era romance novel…he’s just SUCH a hopeless romantic but he would rather die than admit it.

in the initial first few weeks of dating, jason was sosososooooo shy about pda/physical touch. it’s not that he was uncomfortable, he LOVES physical touch, but he had just gone so long without it that he wasn’t used to it. but eventually, he warms up to it…and now he can’t go without having at least one part of him touching you 😭 

when it came to things like hugs, kisses, handholding, etc. jason would always wait for you to initiate it because he was so anxious about making you uncomfortable ?? fjsldfjs 

but when you communicated that he didn’t need to ask/wait for you all the time, jason started initiating things more. even still, he occasionally gets nervous to even hold your hand? like wdym you’ve been dating for over six months and you still get nervous doing simple couple things 😭 it’s very endearing though 

chivalry is NOT dead,, and it’s because of jason LMAO. he’s the type to swap shoes with you even though you’re wearing heels that are 3x too small for him, but hey, at least your feet don’t hurt anymore!

jason’s also hellbent on carrying things for you, opening doors for you, pulling out/pushing in chairs for you, etc… GOD HE’S SO CUTE. 

since dating him, you don’t think you’ve ever touched a single door or car handle when he’s with you. 

jason is NOT afraid to advocate or stand up for you, especially if you’re more on the quiet & non-confrontational side. if you’re in a group setting and someone interrupts you, he’s making sure you get your chance to say what you wanted to say. and he doesn’t do it in a way that leaves you embarrassed, he’s very very classy with it! 

if you’re a big music person, jason will literally learn your favorite artist’s entire discography so you guys have another thing to talk about. 

you guys also have a shared playlist of “your songs” and he’s so serious about it 😭 if jason hears a song that even remotely reminds him of you, he’s going to the ends of the earth to figure out what it’s called. 

rip to anyone around him if shazam doesn’t work! he’s gonna send voice messages to your big group chat humming the tune, but he’s so tone deaf that no one knows the song…and his search history is just variations of “song that goes du du ooh du ooh du du ooh” a for effort though babes…

jason’s love languages are definitely acts of service and quality time. over the years and throughout the many battles he’s fought, he’s come to realize that all he wants to do when he comes home is just spend time with his loved ones. 

after a busy day, you’ll come home to find your laundry folded, bed sheets washed & freshly made, along with a sweet little note from jason <3 

your guys’ thing are writing notes to each other. considering his and your busy schedule, you’ll write and leave tiny notes around the house for each other to find. it’s one of the many reasons why jason gets up in the morning. 

he loves coming home to you after a long day to simply melt in your arms. there’s just something so soothing about cuddling with you after a busy day. 

it does not matter where you are, you guys could literally be cleaning the camp toilets and he’d still be able to find the fun in it. you’re his home, and he’d follow you wherever you go. 

if you play sports, you already know he’s showing up to ALL your games. it doesn’t matter if it’s pouring rain or if it’s hours away, he’s absolutely determined to show his support. jason even makes posters with your jersey number and when you have big tournaments he’ll show up with posters of your face 😭 the refs are SO tired of jason help

i feel like if he really tried, jason would be a good cook. 

one day you sent him a recipe you saw online saying you wanted to make it with him, but then he decided to make it himself to surprise you. and it was actually so good??? 

JASON IN A “KISS THE COOK” APRON OMFG. that’s what you got him for his birthday and every single time without fail, he’ll wear it when he’s cooking. 

one of his hidden talents is that he’s super good at origami. he originally picked it up because he heard it was a good stress reliever, but now he also does it for you <3 

he loves your reaction when he gives you little paper rings or an origami version of your favorite animal! 

this guy DREAMS of domesticity. he’s always been the type to date to marry, and that’s just what he intends to do with you! even though you guys are still young, he’s been planning your proposal sfjfls

tell me why he already knows what kind of ring he wants to get you… omg. 

he really wants to just settle down with you in new rome. but honestly, he’s willing to do anything as long as you’re at his side. 

expect flowers from jason at least once a month! he even keeps one flower so he knows when it’s time to get you a new bouquet. and if he’s away, he’ll get one of his friends to deliver it! 

i have this headcanon that the aphrodite cabin teams up with the hephaestus cabin to throw a really elaborate party, essentially like prom. anyways, jason would go all out for your promposal jfdsls i feel like he would either do a super funny poster/proposal like y’know that one guy who did that medieval promposal 😭 yeah well jason would do something like that but like...more roman... LMFAO him pulling up to your place in a chariot 

or he would do something super super intricate and planned out…like a fancy picnic and then he’d have the fauns arrange fireflies to spell out “prom?” when it’s dark out. 

ugh! jason grace the man that you are… <3 best bf ever,, i can confirm btw

[cruel-seduction]

Beyond Fears 

Summary - With the biggest exam of your life coming up, stress is eating you alive—but Mattheo refuses to let it win. He’ll do whatever it takes to pull you out of your own head, even if it means causing a little chaos. But when the truth behind your fear comes out, he’s ready to remind you of one thing—no matter what happens, he’s not going anywhere.

Content Warning - Suggestive theme and Curse words. 

Glimpse - “And as for your stupid little fear that I’ll find someone else—ugh, babe, do you think I’m insane? That my brain is rotting?” His lips twitched into a smirk before softening again. “Do you think I’d willingly trade you—the love of my fucking life, the only person who actually laughs at my dumb jokes, the only one who knows exactly how I like my coffee, the only soul on this godforsaken planet who makes me feel like I belong—for anyone else?” His voice was raw now, honest in a way that made your chest ache.

His forehead pressed against yours, his nose brushing yours as he whispered, “Baby, there is no one else. There never will be.”

a/n - Divider Credit goes to @bernardsbendystraws. And also I wrote this based of on a scene from my fav show. Cause I needed to do crying reader over valid reason and this seem like best. And she does portrays that she is strong. but Mattheo is Mattheo bro.

Requested by @jarjarbinks-har-har

Mattheo could feel the tension rolling off you from a mile away—thick, restless, electric. Anxiety coiled around your frame like an iron grip, tightening with every breath you took. The upcoming exam loomed over you like a storm cloud, its weight pressing down on you with an unbearable force. If you passed, you’d be the youngest woman in history to earn a seat at one of the most prestigious higher education institutions for witches and wizards. The pressure was suffocating, an invisible noose tightening around your throat.

You weren’t the only one feeling it. Mattheo was tense too, but not because of the exam. No, he was wound up because of you—because your stress became his stress, your suffering bled into him like an open wound. He’d tried everything to ease your nerves. He took you to your favorite coffee shop, bought you anything you wanted, even tried distracting you with jokes and stolen kisses—but nothing worked. You were drowning in books, lost in your relentless pursuit of perfection, and no amount of comfort could pull you out.

Eighteen hours. That’s how long you had gone without sleep. Maybe more. You were running purely on caffeine and raw determination, your veins practically humming with exhaustion. Dark circles didn’t just shadow your eyes—they owned your face, carved into your skin like permanent bruises. At night, you sang old traditional songs in a hollow, eerie voice, studying by torchlight like some deranged scholar possessed by ancient magic. Your roommates had given up on you, groaning in frustration as your muttered revisions carried into the early hours. Even when Mattheo convinced you to crash in his dorm, you never truly rested. You just laid there beside him, whispering formulas, theories, and incantations under your breath, your fingers tracing invisible notes on his skin. It was getting out of hand.

Mattheo watched you now, his jaw clenched as he took in the sight before him—you, hunched over a book in the Great Hall, a cup of coffee gripped in one trembling hand, barely picking at your food with the other. Students all around were suffering through exam stress, but Mattheo didn’t give a damn about any of them. You were the only one who mattered. And watching you unravel like this was killing him.

Sitting beside him, Theodore Nott let out a low whistle. “Mate, what the hell is wrong with her?” he muttered, following Mattheo’s gaze.

Mattheo exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “That stupid exam is next week. She’s pushing herself too hard. If she doesn’t pass, she won’t be able to retake it for another four years. That would completely screw up her entire life plan.” His voice was tight, frustration laced beneath the concern.

Theodore huffed a laugh, lips curling in amusement. “Please, it can’t be that serious. No one plans their life around one exam.” Mattheo’s eyes darkened as he turned toward his friend. “It’s her wallpaper.” Theodore’s brow furrowed. “What?”

Mattheo ran a hand through his hair. “The life plan. It hangs over her bed.” Theodore’s mouth formed a small ‘O’ of realization, his amusement fading into something more thoughtful.

Mattheo knew this couldn’t go on. He couldn’t just sit back and watch you self-destruct. No, he had to do something.

And he knew exactly what to do.

Later that day, Mattheo found you exactly where he expected—in the library, buried under an avalanche of books, your fingers gripping a quill like it was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. Without a word, he sank into the chair beside you, drumming his fingers against the wooden surface.

You didn’t even glance up, just exhaled a frustrated sigh before whispering, “Don’t waste my time. Just say what you wanna say.”

Mattheo smirked, leaning back in his chair with that signature arrogance, the kind that both infuriated and charmed you in equal measure. “Babe, don’t worry. You’re gonna crush it. You could take this exam with one eye closed and still beat half these idiots. And most importantly—” he paused, his voice softening slightly, “—even if you don’t, it’s fine. You got this.”

Your eyes snapped to his, narrowing. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” you scoffed. “You’re only saying this because you love me. Love has made you dumber.”

Mattheo let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think so. If anything, love has made me smarter. See, I haven’t picked a single fight this whole month.”

Your lips twitched despite yourself, a ghost of a proud smile appearing. “Yes, I am very proud of you for that. But if you don’t get the hell out in ten seconds, I will personally break your nose.”

Mattheo grinned like he’d been waiting for exactly that response. In a single, swift motion, he grabbed your wrist, yanking you to your feet before you could protest.

“What the hell, Mattheo?!” You struggled against his grip, your chair scraping noisily against the floor as he dragged you out of the library. Heads turned. You scowled. “Stop! I swear to Merlin, if this is another one of your—”

He didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down, only coming to a halt when he shoved open the door to an abandoned classroom and pulled you inside.

You shot him a glare as you yanked your arm free. “This better be good, Riddle, or I’m hexing your balls into oblivion.”

Mattheo’s smirk widened as he leaned casually against a desk, arms crossed over his chest. “Since you’re so stressed, I figured—why not give you a test?”

Your eyes darkened, your irritation sharpening into a glare. “Are you serious? You dragged me here for a fake test? These things are useless, Mattheo. They don’t have the same pressure, the same distractions. It’s all too damn quiet and perfect, like the walls themselves are whispering the answers.”

Mattheo tilted his head, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Yeah, I figured you’d say that.” He clapped his hands together once, and suddenly, the door swung open.

In walked Abby and Scully from Ravenclaw, each lugging twenty-five bags of chips. As they sat down, they immediately started munching—loudly. Crunching, smacking, licking their fingers like they were trying to break a world record for obnoxious eating.

Your eye twitched.

But that wasn’t all. Right behind them, a group of students filed in—loud ones. The kind who couldn’t stay quiet if their lives depended on it. They bickered, they whispered, they tapped their quills against the desks, they fidgeted like caffeinated squirrels.

Mattheo leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, “Better prepare yourself, Y/L/N. This is your battlefield.” Then, with a wicked grin, he added, “And I know you wanna rip my clothes off right now, but you’re gonna have to wait and ace this test first.”

You stepped closer, so close that he sucked in a breath, his smirk faltering just slightly. Your voice dropped to a sultry whisper, just for him.

“I am so fucking turned on by you right now.” You smirked. “Give me five minutes to destroy this test. Then? You.”

Mattheo’s mouth fell open slightly, like he’d just been hit by a Confundus Charm.

You winked, snatching up the test from his hands, and took your seat, utterly unbothered by the chaos around you.

Mattheo, still standing there, watching you with something dark and heated in his gaze, let out a quiet, disbelieving chuckle.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered. “I think I just made studying sexy.”

Mattheo sat outside on the Quidditch field, staring up at the darkening sky, the cool breeze doing nothing to temper the frustration simmering in his chest. His fingers fidgeted with a stray blade of grass as he replayed the events of the day over and over in his head. He was about to go find you himself when he noticed Abby and Scully trudging toward him, looking particularly sheepish.

“We’re out of chips,” they said in perfect unison.

Mattheo blinked. Then scowled. “What the hell? I gave you fifty packets. And I told you to stay in that damn room.”

Scully shifted uncomfortably before muttering, “About that… Y/N kinda… vanished.”

Mattheo’s stomach dropped. His jaw clenched. “Vanished?” His voice was eerily calm, but his eyes—oh, his eyes had darkened into something deadly.

Abby nodded. “Yeah, she just—poof. One second she was there, the next, gone. No idea where.”

Mattheo shot to his feet, his entire body thrumming with tension. “I asked you to do one thing,” he snapped, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “One fucking thing—and you couldn’t even do that?” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Move aside.”

It was almost nightfall, and Mattheo, along with his friends, had been searching for you for over an hour. You were nowhere to be found. His mind churned with possibilities—were you upset? Were you hiding? Had something happened? And then, like a punch to the gut, it hit him.

Today’s date.

Mattheo stopped in his tracks, exhaling as realization settled over him. “I know where she is,” he muttered. “Go back to the dorms—I got this.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and headed toward the Potions classroom.

And there you were.

Curled up in a ball, tucked into the shadows, your arms wrapped around your knees as if holding yourself together. The dim candlelight flickered against your face, casting soft, golden hues over your tear-streaked cheeks. His chest tightened at the sight.

Mattheo said nothing as he stepped inside. He didn’t need to. Instead, he lowered himself to the floor beside you, his presence warm and steady.

You glanced up, your voice barely above a whisper. “How did you find me?”

His expression remained neutral, but his eyes—his eyes—were soft as they met yours. “15th of March.”

A humorless laugh escaped your lips, and despite yourself, a small, sad smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “Of course.”

Mattheo’s lips curled into one of those rare smiles—the kind he didn’t give just anyone. “A year ago, today, we had detention together.” His tone turned teasing. “You spent the whole night pretending to be annoyed while secretly staring at me like I was the hottest thing you’d ever seen, and by the end of it, you were completely infatuated with me.”

You gave him a side-eye. “Mattheo.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. You flirted with me for fifteen seconds, and I became obsessed.”

You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. “Sounds more accurate.”

A comfortable silence settled between you both.

And then, softly, Mattheo asked, “Babe, can you tell me the real reason why you’re scared?”

You hesitated for a moment before shifting closer, resting your head against his shoulder. His warmth seeped into you, grounding you, anchoring you.

“I didn’t even know why I was so tense before,” you admitted. “But when I was in that classroom, giving that practice test… I realized.” Your throat tightened. “Passing this test means going away from you. And I—I don’t know how to handle that.”

Mattheo stayed quiet, letting you speak.

“All these days, I’ve been drowning myself in books, trying to avoid thinking about it. But in that classroom, it hit me.” Your voice cracked. “Everything between us is so good right now. But what if leaving ruins that? What if we can’t make long distance work? What if me being gone changes everything?” A tear slid down your cheek, soaking into Mattheo’s shirt. “And what if—” your voice broke entirely, and you inhaled shakily, “—what if you realize that you deserve better? What if you find someone else, someone closer? Someone who isn’t a whole country away?”

Mattheo was quiet for a beat. Then, with a slow exhale, he shook his head and lifted his hands to your face, cradling your cheeks between his palms. He wiped your tears away gently, then—because he was still Mattheo—he wiped his hands off on your shirt, making you let out a watery laugh.

And then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “Babe, listen to me—no, actually, shut up and listen, because I know that pretty little overthinking brain of yours is already running marathons.” His thumbs stroked your cheekbones, his touch featherlight. His gaze—intense, unwavering, filled with nothing but love—held you in place, made you feel every word before he even said them.

“Darling, if you don’t go—if you give up your dream for me—I swear I will throw myself into the nearest trash can and live there forever because that’s exactly where I belong if I let you do that.” His voice was steady, firm, convincing. “Baby, I want you to go. I need you to go. Not because I want to be away from you—hell no, I’m already dreading the distance—but because you’ve been dreaming about this since you were a kid, and the only thing worse than missing you would be watching you resent me for holding you back.”

You sniffled, lips trembling.

“And as for your stupid little fear that I’ll find someone else—ugh, babe, do you think I’m insane? That my brain is rotting?” His lips twitched into a smirk before softening again. “Do you think I’d willingly trade you—the love of my fucking life, the only person who actually laughs at my dumb jokes, the only one who knows exactly how I like my coffee, the only soul on this godforsaken planet who makes me feel like I belong—for anyone else?” His voice was raw now, honest in a way that made your chest ache.

His forehead pressed against yours, his nose brushing yours as he whispered, “Baby, there is no one else. There never will be.”

Tears slipped silently down your cheeks.

“So go. Conquer. Be brilliant.” He swallowed thickly. “And when you come back, I’ll be right here, still stupidly in love with you, probably crying into your hoodie and talking to your pictures like a lunatic.” He gave you a small, wry smile. “But I’ll be yours. Always.”

Your lips trembled. Your fingers clutched at the fabric of his shirt.

And then, with no warning, you surged forward, crashing your lips against his in a kiss so deep, so desperate, it stole the breath from both your lungs.

Mattheo exhaled into your mouth, his arms winding around you like he never wanted to let go.

And maybe, just maybe—he never would.

[mononijikayu]

why are you obsessed with me? — ryomen sukuna.

"You seemed really into it tonight." he noted casually, though his eyes held that familiar gleam. “Just playing my part, darling.” you replied with a shrug, but your voice was softer, a hint of something warmer seeping through. Sukuna stepped closer, his gaze locked onto yours. "Maybe we’re both playing a little too well, aren’t we, baby doll?" he murmured, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face.  You met his gaze, a smirk tugging at your lips. "Or maybe we’re not playing at all." you whispered, your voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the crowd outside.

GENRE: alternate universe - modern singers au!

WARNING/S: romance, fluff, secretly dating, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, elaborate roleplay, making out, smut, fingering, p to v sex, orgasm, humor, teasing, flirting, playfulness, dancing and singing, possessiveness, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, depiction of sexual acts, depiction of sexual tension, depiction of naked bodies, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, frontman! sukuna, front!woman/soloist! reader;

WORD COUNT: 8.9k words.

NOTE: finally the starter for this year's kinktober!!! i liked this idea of sukuna being a frontman and just dating another singer and just like getting off doing this play of them having this rivalry but they're actually together??? i sat there and was like 'actually, their bed activities must go wild after every fake fight!'; anyway, i hope you enjoy this!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

kinktober 2024 - kayu's version

if you want to, tip! <3

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PEOPLE DIDN’T KNOW HOW IT STARTED. But everything about the rivalry was electric, charged with an intensity that made headlines and drew crowds. Anyone who had been there from the beginning would swear it was something you had to experience firsthand—a front-row seat to the wildfire that was your feud with Ryomen Sukuna. 

Both bands had climbed their way to the top on different wavelengths: you, with your poetic lyrics and magnetic stage presence, a master of drawing the crowd into the emotion of your songs; and Sukuna, with his raw, untamed energy and unapologetic attitude, commanding attention like a force of nature. The music industry loved pitting you against each other, fanning the flames of competition, but no one had expected it to escalate the way it did.

It started innocently enough. Sukuna, in a radio interview, casually commented, “Sure, they're good, if you’re into that whole soft and emotional vibe. I just think music should have a bit more… bite.” The host laughed, the audience cheered, and Ryomen Sukuna’s grin was all teeth—sharp, confident. “You know, you gotta expect more!”

You had fired back the next day on social media with a witty post: “Bite all you want, but if your bark’s louder than your music, maybe you’re just a dog chasing its own tail.”

The tweet went viral within minutes. 

The fans loved it. The music blogs devoured it, dissecting every word, every implication. Both your names were plastered across headlines, articles speculating about a burgeoning rivalry that was just too juicy to ignore. The tension simmered, but it was still lighthearted, still playful. 

Then Sukuna took it to the next level.

At his next concert, in front of a sold-out crowd, he made a spectacle of it. “This next song….” he announced, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s dedicated to someone who thinks they can keep up with me.” His grin was wicked as the crowd roared in anticipation. The opening notes rang out—an aggressive beat, the kind that grabbed you by the throat. The lyrics were sharp, mocking, filled with clever jabs that made it unmistakable who they were about.

"Got your head in the clouds, but no feet on the ground, baby doll." Sukuna sang with a sneer. "You talk about a big game, but all I hear is sound. Nonsense!"

The audience went wild as the guitar line merged with the drums. The pyrotechnics were going insane with the beat. People ate it up. Social media exploded. Hashtags trended within the hour. Your name was on everyone’s lips, and suddenly, it was your turn.

Not to be outdone, you fired back at your own concert, taking shots at his image, his music, and even his fans. The cheers and screams were deafening; you knew you had his attention. From then on, it was an all-out war, a back-and-forth of jabs and taunts, each concert a new battleground. 

Then came the diss tracks.

You released yours first, a biting, cleverly constructed anthem that didn’t just mock his music but dissected his entire persona with surgical precision. The internet went wild. Memes, fan theories, reaction videos—your name was on everyone’s lips. Sukuna's response was swift, and his diss track hit like a punch to the gut. It was brutal, unapologetic, and catchy enough that even your own fans had to admit it was a banger.

Lines were drawn. Your fans and his went head-to-head on every platform imaginable, turning comment sections and fan forums into war zones. Arguments broke out, allegiances were tested, and friendships fractured. The media couldn’t get enough, fueling the fire with articles dissecting every lyric, every post, every glance exchanged between you two. It wasn't just a rivalry anymore; it was a movement.

And through it all, there was an unspoken understanding between you and Sukuna. A thrill in the way your eyes met across the stage, a shared smirk when your names were spoken in the same breath. You were rivals, sure, but there was something else there too—a magnetic pull that neither of you could deny. Every diss, every jab, was just a prelude to something bigger, something inevitable. 

People just had to be there. To witness the chaos, the passion, the music that became the soundtrack to an unforgettable war. To see how a feud could blur the line between hate and something far more dangerous. To feel the tension crackling in the air, knowing that this was only the beginning.

On your next concert, where you decided to strike back. “Heard some noise the other day, bothersome noise really.” you told the crowd, a sly smile playing on your lips. “Sounded like a toddler throwing a tantrum. So, I thought, why not give them something real to cry about?”

The audience cheered, sensing the impending retaliation. And you delivered, every line of your song a retort, every beat a blow aimed squarely at Sukuna. "You get on my nerves; You're so fuckin' annoying, you could poison poison?" you sang, a smirk on your lips as the crowd chanted along, the hook instantly catchy, an earworm that would haunt Sukuna’s name for weeks. 

By the next day, the diss track was trending everywhere. Ryomen Sukuna was asked about it during an interview, and his reaction was priceless. He chuckled, clearly amused, his eyes gleaming with something dangerously playful. “Oh, I’m annoying, am I?” he mused, leaning back in his chair. “Well, sweetheart, when you’re that easy to rile up, it’s just too tempting not to play.”

Behind closed doors, though, it was a different story.

Backstage at a private after-party for Uraume’s album reveal, Ryomen Sukuna cornered you with a grin that sent a shiver down your spine. "That was cute, baby doll." he said, his voice low, intimate. "But you know you just gave me more to work with, right?"

You laughed, rolling your eyes. "Oh, please. As if you could come up with something half as clever."

Sukuna’s gaze narrowed, his smirk growing. “You think I’m not capable of playing your game?”

"I think you're used to being a blunt instrument, hm?" you teased, leaning closer. "But there's an art to this, darling. Not just noise."

His grin widened. “We’ll see about that, baby doll.” he murmured, his hand brushing yours—intentionally, deliberately. For a moment, your breath hitched. There was a charge in the air between you, an unspoken understanding.

It became a pattern. Each new concert brought a fresh wave of insults, veiled in clever lyrics. Every interview turned into an opportunity to stoke the fire, to keep the fans on the edge of their seats. The tension, the back-and-forth, the rapid-fire comebacks—it all played out in front of the world. But behind the scenes, it was like an elaborate game, a high-stakes dance that neither of you could quit.

"You seemed really into it tonight." he noted casually, though his eyes held that familiar gleam.

“Just playing my part, darling.” you replied with a shrug, but your voice was softer, a hint of something warmer seeping through.

Sukuna stepped closer, his gaze locked onto yours. "Maybe we’re both playing a little too well, aren’t we, baby doll?" he murmured, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. 

You met his gaze, a smirk tugging at your lips. "Or maybe we’re not playing at all." you whispered, your voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the crowd outside.

He chuckled, leaning in closer until his lips were a breath away from yours. "Careful, my baby doll." he whispered. "People might start thinking about something else.”

Your smile widened, eyes locked with his. "Maybe it is." you replied, your heart racing in your chest, as his lips finally met yours, soft yet insistent. “Maybe it isn’t.”

══════════════════

THERE WAS SO MUCH ADRENALINE. You were pacing back and forth, adrenaline coursing through your veins as your bandmates tuned their instruments, stealing glances at you. The festival was the biggest one yet, and your set was right after Sukuna and his folk. 

The perfect setup for another battle, another clash in this never-ending war. It was another festival gig and Sukuna was here again. But you weren’t just thinking about the performance. Your thoughts kept circling back to that smirk Sukuna flashed you from the stage earlier, as if daring you to make the first move tonight.

Your bassist nudges you with a grin. "You’re not seriously thinking about what he said last week, are you?"

You rolled your eyes. "Of course not." you lied. "But he’s been pushing it lately, don’t you think? I’m just figuring out how to outdo him this time."

Just as you said that, the door swung open, and there he was—Ryomen Sukuna, flanked by his own entourage, looking as smug as ever. His eyes zeroed in on you instantly, that familiar glint of mischief lighting up his gaze.

“Ready to get outclassed again?” he drawled, leaning against the doorframe like he owned the place.

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing. Your set was… okay, if you’re into repetitive noise.”

He chuckled, stepping closer, ignoring the tension that rippled through the room. “Is that the best you’ve got, sweetheart? Because I’ve heard your new track… and honestly, I’m not impressed.”

You raised an eyebrow, your heart pounding with a mix of frustration and exhilaration. “Right, because your lyrical masterpiece about your ex was so groundbreaking. What was it called again? ‘Cliché’? Or was it ‘Cringe’? Hard to tell.”

Sukuna laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down your spine, though you’d never admit it. “At least people are talking about it, baby doll.” he shot back, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Besides, you and I both know… this isn’t about the music anymore.”

You took a step closer, refusing to back down. “Oh? Then what’s it about, Sukuna? Enlighten me.”

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper that only you could hear. “It’s about this… you and me, driving each other crazy. Admit it—you’re having fun.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. For a second, the noise of the festival outside seemed to fade, and all you could hear was your heartbeat, loud and insistent.

“You wish.” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m just here to win, Sukuna.”

His grin widened, and he moved even closer, so close you could see the sparks in his eyes. “Then let’s see who wins tonight, baby doll.” he murmured, a challenge in every word. "And maybe, just maybe… we’ll figure out what the hell this really is."

Before you could respond, he turned on his heel, heading out with a laugh that lingered in the air long after he was gone. You stood there, breathless, wondering how the hell he always managed to get under your skin—and why a part of you liked it so much.

Your drummer nudged you, pulling you back to reality. "So… what’s the plan now?"

You smirked, grabbing your microphone, your adrenaline surging. “The plan?” you said. “We give them a show they’ll never forget.”

As you took the stage, you saw him standing off to the side, watching you with that infuriating grin. The crowd was roaring, the lights were blinding, and somewhere in the midst of it all, you felt the spark ignite again.

This was far from over.

The roar of the crowd vibrated through the stage as you stepped up to the microphone, eyes scanning the sea of faces. And there he was, off to the side, arms crossed and a smirk plastered across his face. Ryomen Sukuna was waiting—waiting to see what you’d do, how you’d respond to his taunts, his challenges. The rivalry had become a game, but one neither of you were willing to lose.

You leaned into the mic, letting the energy of the moment wash over you. "How’s everyone doing tonight?" you shouted, and the crowd erupted in cheers, the noise almost deafening. "You know, I wasn’t sure if we should even bother showing up after that last set." 

You paused, letting the words sink in, and a wave of laughter and excited murmurs rippled through the audience. Your guitarist strummed a sharp chord, and the band jumped in with the opening notes of your new track—the one that had set the internet ablaze.

The fans knew the first lines by heart, screaming them back at you with an energy that could only come from shared devotion. You caught Sukuna’s eye, feeling that familiar thrill at the challenge that lay in his gaze.

Halfway through the set, you decided to escalate things. You turned back to the mic, catching your breath. "You know, guys…." you began. “There’s been a lot of talk lately… about who's really on top in this scene." 

The crowd cheered louder, sensing where you were going. "Some people think it’s that guy over there." You pointed in Sukuna’s direction, and the audience erupted into a mix of boos and cheers. “Hey pink head.”

Sukuna, ever the showman, gave an exaggerated bow, playing to the crowd’s reaction, which only made them more riled up.

“But I think we all know, everyone.” you continued, leaning forward with a grin. “That the real reason people are here tonight… is to see which one of us cracks first. So, what do you say, Sukuna?” You called out, your voice carrying over the noise. “Why don’t you come up here and face me?”

A ripple of excitement and disbelief swept through the crowd. Ryomen Sukuna’s smile grew wider, and without missing a beat, he moved toward the stage, his entourage trailing behind. He jumped up onto the platform, grabbing a mic from one of the stagehands, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You really wanna do this, baby doll?" he taunted, his voice low and teasing. "Because I don’t think your fans can handle what I’ve got in store."

You stepped closer, the tension thick between you, the audience practically buzzing with anticipation. “Oh, I think they can handle a lot more than you can, Sukuna.”

He laughed, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to echo off the stage walls. “Alright then, let’s give them a show.” He turned to the crowd. "How about a little live battle, right here, right now? Let’s see who’s really got the chops."

The crowd went wild, chanting both your name and his, the noise rising to a fever pitch. Your bandmates looked at you, uncertain but excited. You gave them a nod—it was on. You faced off with Sukuna, mics in hand, the beat dropping low and steady, building tension. The music swelled, and Sukuna started first, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. 

“You think you’re on top, but you’re just a phase,  

A flicker, a flame that’ll soon be erased.  

I’m the storm, the fire, the one they all fear,  

And when this is over, you’ll wish you weren’t here.”

The crowd erupted, and you could see the challenge in his eyes, daring you to match his intensity. He continued on, people saying ‘ey’ ‘oh’ and screaming as they echoed their words. You stepped up, not missing a beat as you grinned at him.

“You swagger and boast like you’re king of the stage,  

But all that you’ve got is that pathetic, tired old ass rage.  

I’m the light, the spark, you’re the one drinking cheap booze. 

When I’m done, your crowd’s gonna give you nothin’ but boos.”

The audience was in a frenzy now, torn between the two of you, your words cutting into the night air like knives. Sukuna leaned in closer, his grin still in place, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, the sheer force of his presence. He was electric, enigmatic. He was everything all at once as you looked at him.

“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that, baby doll.” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear over the chaos. “But do you really think you can outlast me?”

You smirked, adrenaline coursing through you like a drug. “Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

The beat dropped again, faster, harder, and the two of you kept going, each line sharper, each verse more biting than the last. It wasn’t just a performance anymore—it was a test of will, a clash of two forces too strong to coexist but too intrigued to stay apart.

And somewhere in the midst of it all, as the crowd surged and screamed, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t trying to win this battle. Maybe you were just trying to keep Sukuna’s eyes on you for as long as possible. 

══════════════════

YOU DIDN’T WANT TO GO TO PRACTICE TODAY. But you decided that you were going to go anyway. Mainly because your bandmates said they’ll buy you your favorite matcha drink with your favorite croissant today. And you like to be given free stuff, so off you went, dressed in baggy clothes and headed to the studio.

The studio lights were dimmed low, and the energy in the room crackled with excitement. Your bandmates were clustered around, phones in hand, eyes glued to the social media explosion that followed your latest diss track.

They seemed more excited than you. Especially now that you get to perform it live. You sat in the center, drinking your matcha drink with a small, satisfied smile playing on your lips. The track had dropped at midnight, and by morning, it had already become the talk of the town.

The song was everywhere now. Fans and critics were dissecting every line, every beat, comparing it to Sukuna’s latest attempt at a rebuttal. But this time, you’d hit a nerve. You knew that already. Sukuna’s the type to enjoy saying something about anything and everything. Your phone buzzed on the table. You glanced down to see a message from your manager.

"Check his story." it read. “Now.”

You quickly grabbed your phone, pulling up Sukuna’s social media. Sure enough, an Instagram Live was broadcasting in real-time. Ryomen Sukuna lounged on a familiar couch, the blue glow of his phone screen casting a soft light on his face. His expression was a mix of amused disbelief and genuine intrigue, a faint grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Alright, alright, you guys.” Sukuna drawled, glancing at the camera. “I gotta hand it to them—this track is… something. From you-know-who.” He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that sent shivers down your spine. “But seriously, 'why you so obsessed with me?' That track is pretty interesting.”

He leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing playfully. “That hook… damn, it’s catchy. I’m almost flattered, really. Almost.” He paused, his grin widening. “You really think I got a Napoleon complex, baby doll? Because last I checked, I was standing pretty tall.”

The comments exploded—hearts, fire emojis, and a flurry of messages from fans of both sides, hurling playful and not-so-playful insults. He knew you would be watching his broadcast. You leaned back in your chair, smirking as you watched him. The song had clearly gotten under his skin, just as you’d intended.

Sukuna’s grin faded slightly as he continued, “But let’s talk about some of those lines. ‘Last man on earth still couldn’t get this’? Ouch. You know that’s not true, baby doll.” 

Hesnickers, a mischievous gleam in his scarlet eyes. “Because if I remember correctly… you were the one who couldn’t stop staring at me from across the room just a while ago.”

You felt a flush creep up your cheeks, but you kept your expression neutral. No way you’d give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his words affected you. At least….You shake your head, continuing to drink your matcha drink. Not here, you think. It would be too obvious.

Sukuna leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “But seriously, props to you and your crew. You got everyone talking, and that’s what it’s all about, right?” He winked at the camera. “Now, I guess I’ll just have to come up with something to top it… and I will.”

He ended the Live with a cocky grin, and your phone buzzed again—a new message from your manager. “He’s biting. Good job. This is gonna blow up.”

Your drummer chuckled, “Did you see the way he was trying so hard not to laugh? He’s loving this just as much as we are.”

Your guitarist nodded, absently strumming a few chords. “Oh, he’s definitely going to come back with something. What’s the next move?”

You grinned, leaning forward, fingers tapping rhythmically on your knee. “Next move? We keep pushing. He wants a war, we’ll give him a war.”

Your bassist chimed in, “And if he’s obsessed, we’re gonna make sure he stays that way.”

The room burst into laughter, and you felt a rush of adrenaline. You had Sukuna’s attention, and you weren’t planning on letting go anytime soon. You stood up and put your drink away. “Alright, alright. Time to practice.”

A few hours later, as you were leaving the studio and headed for dinner with your bandmates, your phone buzzed again—a private message from Ryomen Sukuna himself.

“Nice track, baby doll. You got guts. But don’t think for a second this is over.”

You smirked at the screen, your fingers flying over the keyboard as you typed back a quick reply. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

With that, you hit send, knowing full well that this game of cat and mouse was far from over. The rivalry had taken on a life of its own, and you were ready to see it through to the end.

The days following the Instagram Live were a whirlwind of activity. The media coverage of your feud with Sukuna was relentless, and the buzz around both your diss track and Sukuna's playful response only grew louder. Your fans were eagerly waiting for the next move, while the anticipation among Sukuna's followers was palpable.

Your studio was buzzing with a new energy as your band prepared for the next stage of the rivalry. You were in a brainstorming session with your team, mapping out strategies and refining ideas. The stakes had never been higher, and everyone was determined to capitalize on the momentum.

As you reviewed some rough cuts of new material, your phone once more buzzed with a notification—a direct message from Sukuna on Instagram. You raised an eyebrow. Your curiosity piqued, and opened it to find a short video clip.

The video showed Sukuna lounging in his familiar and stylish, minimalistic apartment, the camera focused on his face. He had a relaxed, almost smug expression, and he started speaking directly to the camera.

“Hey, baby doll.” he began, his voice smooth and confident. “I see you’re still all fired up from our little game. Can’t say I’m surprised. But if you think you’ve got me cornered, you’re in for a surprise.”

He paused, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I’m working on something that’ll blow your track out of the water. Something special, just for you.” He leaned in closer, his tone dropping to a more intimate level. “And I promise, it’s going to make you rethink everything you thought you knew about this competition.”

Sukuna ended the video with a wink, and the message was signed with a flourish: “Yours truly, Sukuna.”

You chuckled, impressed by his confidence and intrigued by his hint. You knew this was only the beginning of a new round in your ongoing rivalry. You showed the video to your bandmates, and they were immediately excited. 

“Looks like Sukuna’s not holding back.” your drummer said, leaning over to get a better look. “What’s our move?”

You grinned, feeling the familiar thrill of competition. “We push the envelope even further. If he’s coming at us with something big, we need to be ready to top it. Let’s go all in.”

The team rallied, diving into planning and creative sessions with renewed vigor. Ideas were thrown around, debates sparked, and everyone was charged with the excitement of outdoing Sukuna. Later that evening, as you were reviewing the final mix of your new track, your phone buzzed again. 

It was another message from Sukuna, this time with a photo attached. It was a behind-the-scenes shot from his recording studio, showing him with headphones on, a focused expression on his face. The caption read: “Just a little preview of what’s coming your way. Can’t wait to see your reaction 😉”

You couldn’t help but smile. The rivalry was as thrilling as ever, and Sukuna’s antics only made it more engaging. You replied with a playful message: “Bring it on, Sukuna. We’re ready for whatever you’ve got.”

As you finished up for the night, you felt a rush of anticipation. The battle between you and Sukuna had transcended mere competition; it had become an electrifying dance, each of you pushing the other to new heights. And you were more than ready for the next move.

The stage lights cut through the darkness, bathing Sukuna in a dramatic, almost ethereal glow. The crowd roared with anticipation, their excitement palpable as they waited for Sukuna’s next performance. You were in the VIP section, surrounded by your bandmates, eyes fixed on the stage. The rivalry had reached a new peak, and tonight was the next chapter.

Sukuna appeared at the center of the stage, wearing a tailored black suit that accentuated his confident, charismatic presence. His expression was a mix of cocky assurance and playful challenge. He grabbed the microphone with an almost theatrical flair, and the band behind him struck up a powerful, bass-heavy beat.

He began to sing, his voice dripping with both charm and defiance. The lyrics were a direct response to your latest track, each line crafted to counter your words with his own brand of swagger and wit. 

“You think you’re clever with your little diss track, babe, 

But let me show you what I’ve got—watch me take it back. 

You throw punches in the dark, but I’m the light that blinds, 

Every move you make, every line you drop, I’m right behind.”

The crowd cheered, their energy feeding into Sukuna’s performance. His voice was smooth and commanding, each note perfectly delivered with an edge of playful arrogance. As the chorus hit, Sukuna took a moment to address the audience directly. He flashed a grin and winked in your direction, his eyes locking with yours for a brief, charged moment.

“And you think you know me? Think you’ve got my number? 

Watch me turn this game around, and watch you slumber. 

I’m the king of this stage, and you’re just a player, 

So step aside, baby doll, it’s time for a new layer.

Call me up, call me late, rumble some date.

Come on, be obsessed with me, get home late.”

The wink was truly unmistakable—a flirtatious, provocative gesture that carried both a challenge and a promise. You bit your lower lip. It was clear that Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just participating in this rivalry; he was fully immersed in it, relishing every moment and using it to his advantage.

Just as much, you also couldn’t help but be impressed, despite the competitive edge. The rest of his performance was electrifying, and Sukuna’s ability to blend his charm with his musical prowess only heightened the tension and excitement of your ongoing feud. 

As the song ended, Sukuna raised his arms in victory, soaking in the applause and cheers of his fans. He glanced over at you again, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. The crowd’s energy was palpable as they chanted Sukuna’s name, and you could feel the shift in the air—an unspoken understanding that this battle was far from over. 

You turned to your bandmates, a determined gleam in your eyes. “He’s got moves, no doubt about it. But we’ve got our own plans. Let’s give him something he won’t forget.”

══════════════════

YOU AGREED TO MEET UP IN HIS STUDIO. After all, you had a key to his studio. One of only two people, besides his manager. The echo of the door clicking shut behind you was the only sound in the dimly lit room.  The minute you stepped inside, a familiar hand grabbed your waist, spinning you around with a rough but playful urgency. You couldn’t help but feel adrenaline rush through you.

You looked up to see Ryomen Sukuna’s smirk inches from your face, his eyes dancing with mischief. You couldn’t help but bite your lips as he lets his attention stuck on you for a little while longer. He’d just gotten here after a long schedule today, that you knew. But he just couldn’t pass up this moment. He missed you, after all.

“You’ve really done it now, baby doll.” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "That track? You know it’s all anyone is talking about. Got my fans in a frenzy, and I can't say I'm not impressed."

You laughed, slipping your arms around his neck. “Wasn’t that the plan?” you whispered back, feeling his grip tighten possessively around your waist. “To keep everyone on their toes? To keep you on your toes?”

Sukuna’s smirk softened into something a little darker, a little more heated. “Oh, you’ve got me on my toes alright, baby doll.” he replied, leaning down to brush his lips against your ear. “You’re playing a dangerous game, you know that?”

You shivered at the feel of his breath against your skin, but you didn’t back down. “And you love every second of it, darling.” you shot back, daring him with your eyes. “Admit it, Sukuna. You like it when I push your buttons.”

He chuckled, a low, deep sound that sent a thrill through you. “Maybe I do, baby doll.” he admitted, nipping playfully at your earlobe. “Maybe I love watching you act all tough out there, throwing shade at me like you mean it. Gets my blood pumping.”

You tilted your head back, grinning up at him. “You think you’re the only one who gets a thrill out of this? Watching you strut around on stage, pretending you’re so unaffected…” You traced a finger along his jawline, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin. “I know better. I see how you watch me.”

Sukuna’s eyes darkened, his grip tightening. “Oh, you’ve got no idea what I think when I’m up there, you know.” he growled, his lips brushing against yours, the air between you charged with electricity. “No idea how much I want to drag you off that stage and—”

You cut him off with a kiss, fierce and demanding, pouring every bit of the adrenaline still buzzing through your veins into the press of your lips against his. He responded instantly, kissing you back with a hunger that made your knees weak, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer, until there was no space left between your bodies.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, panting slightly, foreheads resting against each other. “I knew you’d enjoy it, our little roleplay.” you whispered, your lips brushing his with every word. “I knew you’d love playing this game.”

Sukuna laughed softly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “Oh, it’s more than just a game, baby doll.” he murmured. “It’s our foreplay.” He grinned wickedly, his thumb tracing the curve of your bottom lip. “Every line, every taunt, every verse… just getting me more worked up for moments like this.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you leaned into his touch, your smile matching his. “So… what’s next?” you asked, teasingly. “Another diss track? Or are we moving on to something a little more… physical?”

He chuckled again, his lips brushing yours in the faintest of kisses. “Both, baby doll.” he whispered. “Always both. I’ll keep you on your toes, and you keep me guessing. That’s how this works, right?”

You nodded, feeling the thrill of his words spark through you. “You already know it well, darling.” you grinned at him, pulling him closer for another kiss, deeper this time, more intense. 

Because behind all the public drama, the mock insults, the fan wars and the staged battles, there was something real—a chemistry, a connection, that neither of you could resist. No one else knows, and they didn’t have to. Because that’s what makes it fun, that’s what gets you hot, high for him. 

This elaborate game of rivals was just another way for you and Sukuna to both express that pull, that irresistible need to keep challenging each other, to keep pushing each other’s buttons in every way possible. And you knew, as he did, that you wouldn’t have it any other way.

As Sukuna’s lips moved against yours, his kiss deepening with a fervent intensity, you felt the world around you blur into a haze of desire and adrenaline. His hands roamed possessively over your body, each touch a reminder of the raw, unfiltered connection that existed between you.

The heat of his skin, the firm grip of his hands, and the way he pressed you closer only heightened the sensation that this was more than just a physical encounter—it was an embodiment of the fierce rivalry and undeniable attraction that had been building between you two.

The way his fingers traced your curves, his touch both commanding and tender, spoke volumes. It was as if he was claiming you, not just in the heat of the moment but in a way that was deeply intertwined with the ongoing battle of wits and passion you both were engaged in. The contrast between his rough, assertive touch and the gentle caresses created a whirlwind of emotions, each sensation adding to the already charged atmosphere.

As you pull back slightly, your breaths mingling, Sukuna’s gaze locked onto yours, his eyes dark with a mix of satisfaction and challenge. His smirk, still present, held a promise of more to come—more battles, more games, and an unspoken agreement that this was only the beginning of an exhilarating journey. For a moment, you think you fell in love deeper with him again.

The gradual approach of his fingertips was a slow, tantalizing tease, each moment stretched out with the deliberate pace of someone who knew exactly how to build anticipation. You could feel the heat from his touch even before his fingers made full contact, the mere thought of what was to come causing your breath to hitch and your body to respond eagerly.

As his fingers inched closer, their warmth and the promise of what lay ahead created a growing sense of urgency and need. The gentle caress of his fingertips, as they brushed against your inner thighs, was both intimate and assertive, a clear indication of his intent. The friction was electric, a stark contrast to the cool air around you, amplifying every sensation as his touch grew more purposeful.

You could feel his breath against your skin, each exhale sending shivers down your spine. His eyes, locked onto yours with an intense focus, conveyed both a challenge and a deep-seated desire. The way he watched you, his gaze dark and smoldering, only added to the overwhelming allure of the moment.

His fingers finally made contact with your womanhood, the touch both delicate and firm, exploring with a confident familiarity. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and anticipation as his fingers began to move in slow, deliberate circles, teasing and testing. Each stroke was designed to elicit a response, to push you further into a state of heightened arousal.

A satisfied smirk curled on Sukuna’s lips, his eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of pride and desire. “You know it don’t you, hm?” he growled, his voice rough with arousal. “No one else can touch you like this, no one else can make you feel what I do.”

His words were a taunt and a promise, each thrust a reminder of the exclusive, raw connection between you. “You need this, don’t you?” he continued, his voice low and seductive. “You need me to push you, to make you feel every inch of me.”

Your breath hitched, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as a moan slipped from your lips. He was relentless, and he knew it, his movements intentional and powerful, his gaze never leaving yours. 

“Admit it, baby doll.” Sukuna demanded, his voice a husky whisper against your ear. “Admit that no one else can make you feel this way.”

You bit back a moan, your head tilting back as you fought for control, but the way he looked at you, the way he moved against you—it was overwhelming, intoxicating. “You… you’re so full of yourself, darling.” you managed to gasp, though the quiver in your voice betrayed how much he was getting to you.

Sukuna chuckled darkly, his breath hot against your skin. “Maybe.” he murmured, his lips grazing your neck, his teeth nipping at your pulse. “But you like that about me, don’t you? You like the way I take control… the way I make you lose yourself.”

As Sukuna’s breath grew heavier, mingling with yours, he leaned in closer, the heat of his body was all too much for you. His eyes, locked onto yours, held a smoldering intensity that combined both dominance and a profound passion. The teasing brush of his fingers, so close to your most intimate area, sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fiery need that built with every second.

When you finally released a groan escaping your lips, you held him tightly, your body trembling with the intensity of the moment. Sukuna’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and approval.

“You really get a load of it when it’s good, don’t you?” he teased, his voice low and filled with a playful edge. His tone was both confident and affectionate, the snicker that followed underscoring the satisfaction he felt in having pushed you to such a heightened state.

Sukuna’s words hung in the air, a provocative mix of satisfaction and challenge. His fingers continued their gentle, lingering caress, prolonging the aftershocks of your release. The smirk on his face was unmistakable—a blend of triumph and deep-seated affection that he only reserved for moments like these.

“You know, baby doll..." he said, his voice softening to a more intimate tone. “it’s not just about getting a reaction. It’s about knowing how much you need this—how much you crave every bit of it.” His hand moved with deliberate, gentle strokes, still teasing, ensuring that the aftermath was as intense as the build-up.

You looked up at him, breathless and flushed, meeting his gaze with a mix of desire and exhaustion. The connection between you two felt palpable, a mix of competition and passion that seemed to define every interaction.

“Is that so?” you managed to reply, your voice hoarse but laced with playful defiance. “And what makes you think you’re the only one who can bring me to that edge?”

Sukuna’s eyes sparkled with mischief, his lips curving into an even broader smile. “Oh, I don’t think I’m the only one. But I do like to think that I’m the best at it. There’s something about our… little games that just makes everything so much more exhilarating.”

He pulled you closer, his breath warm against your ear. “And you love it. Every second of it. The highs, the lows, the rivalry... it’s all part of the thrill.”

You shivered at his words, the heat of his body and the intimacy of the moment amplifying the connection between you. His touch was a constant reminder of the dynamic between you two—a blend of passion, competition, and mutual desire that made every encounter both electrifying and deeply personal.

As the intensity of the moment began to wane, Sukuna’s touch softened, and he held you close, his hand resting possessively on your lower back. The playful glint in his eyes remained, but there was also a deeper sense of satisfaction, as if the night had cemented something unspoken between you two.

“I guess we’ll just have to keep this up, you know?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

He starts to emphasize his words, his voice low and commanding, as he enters you with a slow, deliberate thrust that sends a shudder through your entire body. Each movement is precise, calculated, as if he wants to draw out every sensation, making sure you feel the intensity of him.

Your grip on his shoulders tightens reflexively, your nails scraping against his skin, leaving faint trails in their wake. The contact seems to please him, a low, almost primal growl escaping from his throat, vibrating through his chest and into yours.

The warmth between you both intensifies, the heat of the moment engulfing you. It’s stifling, but you crave more of it, each moment more consuming than the last. Your mind, once racing with scattered thoughts, is now empty, surrendered entirely to the sensations overwhelming you.

Every nerve is alive, tuned to the rhythm of his body against yours. As Sukuna pushes deeper, your world narrows to the singular, undeniable reality of him filling you completely. It’s overwhelming, exhilarating, and you’re lost in the sheer intensity of it. All that exists is him, inside you, and the way your body responds to every movement he makes.

“Say it, baby doll.” he insisted, his hand moving to tangle in your hair, tugging just enough to send a sharp thrill through you. “Say you need me.”

Your heart pounded with thunderous applause, and for a moment, you hesitated, the words caught in your throat. But the way he looked at you, his eyes dark with desire and something deeper, pulled the confession from your lips.

“I… I need you, darling.” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, your body arching against his, craving more. “I need you, Sukuna. All of you.”

A satisfied grin spread across his face, his hold on you tightening as he captured your lips in a fierce, claiming kiss. “That’s right.” he murmured against your mouth, his voice thick with desire. “Only me. Always me.”

And with that, he moved with renewed intensity, each deep thrust and touch a declaration, a challenge, a promise that you were his—and that no one else could ever come close to what the two of you had. He was good, he was good at making you feel like this. 

His lips were everywhere—on your neck, your shoulders, down the curve of your spine—each kiss a mark, a reminder that this, whatever it was between you, was uniquely yours. Every gasp, every moan he drew from you only seemed to fuel him more, his movements becoming more fervent, more determined to prove his point.

And you couldn’t help but revel in it—the way he knew your body, the way he knew exactly how to drive you to the edge and pull you back, just to see the need in your eyes grow stronger.

“You love it, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “You love the way I make you feel… the way I take you apart and put you back together again.”

You could only nod, lost in the rhythm of his movements, the intensity of his gaze, the heat that built between you. Because he was right—there was something about the way he touched you, the way he pushed you, that no one else could ever replicate. And in that moment, with his hands on your skin and his voice in your ear, you knew that you were exactly where you wanted to be.

He continued with a deliberate rhythm, his movements precise and relentless. You could feel the intensity building, every touch and motion sending waves of sensation coursing through you. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, a mix of pleasure and the sheer force of his actions. He always knew how to push you to the edge, how to test your limits, and tonight was no different.

Each thrust was a carefully measured challenge, a dance of dominance and submission that left you breathless, gasping for air yet craving more. The friction between you was electric, sparking and crackling like a live wire, building with every moment until you felt like you might burst from the sheer pressure of it.

Sukuna’s eyes never left yours, a dark, consuming gaze that seemed to see right through you, drinking in every reaction, every gasp and shiver. “You feel that?” he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you. “That’s what happens when you get me riled up and excited, baby doll.”

You could only nod, your voice caught in your throat, your body trembling under his touch. He was relentless, every motion a reminder of his strength, his intensity, and the unique connection that bound you together. It was overwhelming, all-consuming, the kind of sensation that left you dizzy and reeling, your heart pounding in your chest.

But beneath the raw physicality, there was something more—a deep, unspoken understanding, a bond that neither of you could deny. His touch wasn’t just about possession or power; it was about claiming you in a way that no one else ever could. And in his eyes, you could see the same need reflected back at you, a hunger that matched your own.

“Tell me, baby doll.” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “Tell me you feel it too.”

“I feel it, darling.” you whispered, your voice breaking with the intensity of the moment, your hands gripping his arms as if anchoring yourself to him. “I always feel it… with you.”

A satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his gaze softening for just a moment, a flicker of something almost tender beneath the heat. “Good, good…” he said softly. “Because I’m not letting you go. Not now… not ever.”

And with those words, he moved with renewed determination, his hands tightening on your hips, his body pressing closer, as if trying to fuse the two of you together. The rhythm between you became more frantic, more desperate, as if neither of you could get enough, as if the very air between you was charged with the electricity of everything left unsaid.

The world around you faded, until there was nothing but him—his touch, his voice, his breath against your skin. And in that moment, you knew that whatever games you played in public, whatever battles you waged on stage, nothing could compare to this. To the way he made you feel, to the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

And as the pleasure built to a fever pitch, you surrendered to the sensation, letting it take you over completely, knowing that with Sukuna, you would always find yourself right back where you belonged—in his arms, in his gaze, lost in the heat of this dangerous, undeniable connection.

Your bodies moved in perfect synchrony, a rhythm known only to the two of you. Sukuna’s grip tightened, fingers digging into your skin just enough to remind you of his presence, his power. His breath was hot against your neck, each word he whispered sending a fresh wave of heat through your veins.

"You're mine. Only mine." he murmured against your ear, his voice thick with conviction. "No one else gets to have this… to have you like this." His words sent a shiver down your spine, the possessiveness in his tone both thrilling and comforting in its intensity.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own dark desire and something deeper—something that made your heart clench in your chest. "You think anyone else could handle you?" he taunted, a sly grin spreading across his lips. "Handle us?"

You couldn’t help but smile back, despite the breathless state he had you in. "N–no one." you managed to reply, your voice a whisper, yet full of certainty. "No one else would even come close. Only you.”

His grin widened at your words, his eyes lighting up with that familiar mix of pride and satisfaction. "Damn right." he said, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing, almost tender gesture before capturing them in a fierce kiss. “Only me.”

When he finally pulled back, you were both breathless, the air between you charged with an intensity that was almost palpable. "We could do this forever, you know," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek, his expression suddenly serious. "Keep pretending, keep pushing each other… but you and I both know the truth."

You looked up at him, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his gaze. "And what's that truth, Sukuna?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing against yours as he spoke. "That no matter what happens on stage, no matter what anyone else thinks… this is real. What we have… it’s real."

For a moment, all the bravado, all the games, all the theatrics fell away, and it was just the two of you, standing at the edge of something deeper, something more profound. You felt a warmth spread through your chest, a sense of rightness settling in your bones. "Yeah, of course." you whispered back, your hand finding its way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. "It’s real."

And as his lips met yours again, this time slower, more deliberate, you knew that whatever this was—rivalry, love, obsession—it was something you wouldn't trade for anything in the world. Because with Sukuna, every line blurred, every touch sparked, and every word spoken between you felt like the beginning of a song only the two of you knew the lyrics to.

A song that, no matter how many verses you added, would never truly end.

══════════════════

epilogue 

The social media buzz had been relentless since the rivalry between you and Sukuna had begun. Fans and media alike were glued to every update, eagerly dissecting every new development in your ongoing feud. It was a carefully crafted spectacle, each move calculated for maximum impact. But what came next was entirely unexpected.

Sukuna was known for his bold, often controversial social media presence, but this latest post took things to a whole new level.

The photo he shared was striking and intimate—a mirror selfie in which Sukuna stood with his back to the camera, his muscular body on full display. In front of him, you were barely visible, your form concealed mostly by his arm, his body strategically positioned to cover you. The image was provocative, suggesting an intimacy that had never been publicly acknowledged before.

The caption, simple yet loaded, read: “My baby doll likes excitement.”

The post exploded across the internet. Fans, already used to the charged tension between you two, were stunned into silence before erupting into a frenzy of speculation and excitement. The comments section was a whirlwind of reactions, from shock to adoration, as people tried to make sense of this unexpected revelation.

At first, there was a stunned silence from your side. You were sitting in your living room, scrolling through your feed, when you saw the post. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in the image and the caption. The boldness of it was both thrilling and nerve-wracking.

Minutes later, your phone buzzed with notifications. Your own social media accounts were flooded with messages, your fans reaching out with a mix of curiosity and support. Some were confused, others were jubilant, but everyone was talking about it.

You decided it was time to respond, and you crafted a post that acknowledged the new development without backing down from the playful rivalry. You shared a photo from one of your concerts, the stage lights casting a dramatic glow.

Your hands were littering towards his naked chest while you were dressed on your stage outfit. He came to visit you and well....had fun in your waiting room. You added a caption: “Guess Sukuna’s not the only one who likes a little excitement. See you on stage, my darling.”

Sukuna’s reaction was swift and equally bold. He replied to your post with a comment: “Looking forward to it. Let’s see who can keep the audience more entertained.”

The exchange between you two set the internet alight. The combination of intimacy and competition only fueled the frenzy, turning your personal revelation into the hottest topic of the moment.

Behind the scenes, the two of you found solace in the chaos, a private celebration of your bold move. When you next met, the atmosphere was charged with a new kind of excitement. 

Sukuna greeted you with a grin that spoke volumes. “Well, that certainly stirred things up, hm?” he said, pulling you into a fierce hug.

You laughed, your heart racing with the thrill of it all. “You’ve got that right.” you replied, looking up at him with a smile. “But you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Ready for the next round?”

You looked into his eyes, a mix of challenge and affection in your gaze. “Always.” you whispered back. And with that, you both knew that whatever came next, it would be just as exhilarating and unpredictable as the ride you were already on.

[partial-prints]

If you love vampires, listen up!

Do you enjoy vampires, 80’s music, a healthy dose of homoeroticism - all with a theatrical flair? Well look no further, for I submit to you Dance of the Vampires.

(More cool pictures at the very bottom)

What is it you may ask? It’s a musical about a vampire who seduces a girl and invites her to his midnight ball - an offer she simply cannot turn down. The whole thing sorta gives Phantom of the Opera vibes, but like, wayyy less creepy (despite it being a literal vampire). I will say now that yes, Tanz der Vampire (the original title of Dance of the Vampires), is in German, but there is a full recording with English subtitles on youtube, so please don’t let that prevent you from watching it. Now if you’re still reading, allow me to elaborate on the 80’s music and homoeroticism that I previously mentioned.

Let’s start with the tragic gay romance, because I’m sure that’s what you want to hear about first. While not a main part of the musical, the main vampire’s son falls in love with - gasp! - the vampire hunter’s apprentice. They dance together, and with stage magic involving a mesh screen and an actor on the other side dressed identically to the apprentice, it appears as though the vampire has no reflection in the “mirror”. Of course, the feeling is not mutual, as the apprentice is only at the castle to rescue the girl, who he is in love with.

Now, onto the 80’s music. Surely you’ve heard of the song Total Eclipse of the Heart, or the singer Meatloaf (even if it was just his role as Eddie in Rocky Horror Picture Show). Well, the man who wrote that song and a majority if not all of Meatloaf’s work, was Jim Steinman, who composed the musical. The soundtrack contains a decent amount of electric guitar, even a bit of synth at parts, and all around just sounds awesome. However, he only had about a month and a half to compose it all, so he reused some stuff he previously wrote, including a couple Meatloaf songs and Total Eclipse of the Heart, a song he originally wrote for a Nosferatu musical that ended up not getting produced. It was actually originally titled “Vampires in Love,” so what better song is there to fill the place of a big love duet between the girl and the Count?

Tanz der Vampire is my favorite musical ever. I’ve loved it ever since Count von Krolock appeared on the screen and first began to sing, and you may love it too. So I implore you. Please do yourself a favor and check it out. I’ll provide a link of a full recording with English subtitles here, but it should also be the first result on youtube when you search “tanz der vampire english subtitles.” (That production also has Drew Sarich as the Count, my personal favorite.) I should add though, do not watch the broadway production because it’s terrible.

If you’re still not sold, I’m not sure what else I could say to convince you, but hopefully you at least found this interesting and learned something new. If you want to know more about Tanz der Vampire or would like to hear about other musicals about vampires, please let me know and I can answer any questions. (If even one person watches it because of this I’ll consider this a success, and if you do watch it please let me know because it would really make my day.)

And now I’ll leave you with some pictures of Tanz der Vampire as a last resort to convince you how awesome it is and that you should watch it. (I also put in the alt text the song each picture is from for anyone interested)

*ooo the set design and costuming have hypnotized you… you want to watch it now… do it for the vampires…*

[orangeheliophile]

Kats as your heavy metal bf!!💣💥

Cw: minor cursing, kats being a metal fan, mentions of marriage and babies, fluff.

A/n: I'm not very educated in this type of stuff, so pls bear with me! These are just some random thoughts I had a while ago, lmao.

☠︎︎Loud. Loud and annoying is what your boyfriend likes to be with you.

☠︎︎ Eijirou is more of a hard rock fan, Tokoyami is a goth guy (obviously), Jirou likes punk, and Aizawa definitely loves grunge/alternative. Katsuki is that heavy metal guy that everybody is sorta intimidated by.

☠︎︎ His favorite bands are definitely Metallica, AC/DC, Guns' and Roses, Slipknot, and an honarary mention of Nirvana. Aizawa rubbed off of him.

☠︎︎ This boy is full on metal. Although he also has that punk style and grunge in what he wears. He occasionally wears black eyeliner and lets you, his princess, paint his nails in whatever color you'd like. This boy is wearing leather boots, a leather jacket, band shirts and jeans with some rips on them.

☠︎︎He definitely lets you wear his clothes. Katsuki thinks that they look so pretty on you, too. One time, he found you wearing one of his favorite Metallica shirts, and he swore that was the moment he knew he was gonna marry you.

☠︎︎ Momma Mitsuki was the one who introduced baby Kats to metal/heavy rock music. She sometimes regrets it due to the fact that he won't shut up about "metal" anymore.

☠︎︎Sometimes, Jirou lets Katsuki choose which song they play during band practice. Usually, it ends up being amazing because he would choose the best songs to rage to.

☠︎︎ He would definitely take you to metal concerts. But if you're sensitive to clouds and loud noise, he would be supportive of you and buy you noise cancellling headphones and make sure that you don't get overwhelmed. You're his baby, so of course he's gonna take care of you! <33

☠︎︎ He will love you even more than forever if you give him anything related to his favorite music. He will absolutely cherish it if you made it and will make sure to take you on multiple dates if you buy him something that was limited edition.

☠︎︎ He loves it when you play with his jewelry. Finds it adorable when you're ramblin' about something, and your fingers are just twirling the bracelets or rings on his hands. He's a softie for you, but don't you dare tell anyone. <3

☠︎︎ Not only can he play the drums, but he is also good at the electric guitar and bass, too. This bastard is talented, and he knows it.

☠︎︎ When you both get married, there will definitely be heavy rock/metal themes. But he also wants your style to be involved as well. He doesn't care if you both have totally different tastes. He wants to marry you, and he wants you to have the dream wedding you've always wanted.

☠︎︎ He wants metal babies with you. As much as possible and ONLY if you want it. He absolutely worships your body, and he doesn't want you to go through all of that pain and stress.

☠︎︎ On the other hand, his heart absolutely melts at the thought of mini yous and mini Kats running around the house and blasting music. He's definitely going to teach them how to play the drums/guitar and will take them to concerts if they wanna. And if they're not die-hard metal fans? That's absolutely okay, too. Katsuki will love his babies either way.

☠︎︎ Sometimes, people think he's too intense, but Katsuki doesn't really care. But he won't deny how heartwarming it is whenever you defend him or tell him how much you love him either way.

☠︎︎ Of course, he's going to be loud and aggressive, but he makes sure to lower his voice down and is significantly more softer whenever he's with you. You're the only thing he worships other than All Might and becoming number 1.

☠︎︎ Finds it adorable when you make him wear pink or more vivid colors. He always wears a bracelet you made him for your anniversary. He said it looked badass and awesome.

[stvolanis]

i loveeeeee ur writing ah!!!!! just read ur most recent farleigh one and i was foaming at the mouth <3 idk if ur reqs are open but i cant stop thinking about being in a situationship with farleigh and finally getting sick of it, u break up with him and hes like ‘?? whatever’ thinking that u will come back but when u dont after a few days/weeks he starts lowkey panicking and basically begging u to take him back… just need him crying begging and being pathetic <3 rlly making him beg for it and purposely making him jealous with other guys just to make him suffer :p then when u finally decide to forgive him he fucks u crazy good and RAW 💕

Thank you so much! Also, sorry if this isn’t like EXACTLY what you wanted D:

Love & War

PAIRINGS: Farleigh Start! X Fem! Reader

WARNINGS: foul language, situationship, toxic! Farleigh, mentions of drugs & alcohol, angst, possessiveness, jealousy, crying

NSFW WARNINGS: Switch! Farleigh, Switch! Reader, choking, spitting, tummy bulge, face sitting, breath play, slight size kink, slapping, degradation, praise, dumbification

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

Farleigh Start was a cunning, asshole of a man. You’d know, because you’ve been in love with him since you’re late highschool days.

Well—you didn’t know him personally till you both started attending Oxford. You admired him from a distance, as did many other people. You were never popular enough to bask in his limelight. You only ever dreamed of being with someone as amazing as him.

You thought Farleigh had no idea who you were, and truth be told, he didn’t. But he knew of you. He seen you everywhere, always somehow where he was. You were pretty, probably the most prettiest girl he’d ever seen; you were just so quiet. He knew that the people he hung around would eat you alive. You wouldn’t survive in his world.

So, he never dragged you into it. He watched you from afar for years, both of you unknowingly having feelings for each other. Deep down inside, Farleigh knew his friends weren’t the only reason he couldn’t be with you. He, himself had many issues of his own. One of the worst ones being his fear of rejection, and the second runner up; his pride. Always held so high, never coming down for anyone. It would get him hurt one day, but he’d have to realize that on his own.

When you began attending Oxford, you became friends with Oliver, who had become friends with Felix. He was your ticket into the “in crowd”, as you liked to call it.

You attended parties, stuck around for drinks and quickly grew popularity of your own. This didn’t go unnoticed by Farleigh, who you finally, after years of silence, began to talk to.

It was everything you imagined. He was nice, funny, a bit of a bitch in just the right way. Even when you were in a group of people, your eyes somehow always found his. The two of you would sneak away together, talk about nothing aimlessly for hours on end. Counting stars as you rambled about your favorite constellation.

At night, you’d meet at the bridge, sit on the edge in complete silence just to be in each others presence. Your hands would meet, and electricity sparked through your body. He made you feel like you were walking on clouds, and there was never a dim day when you were with him.

He was charismatic, confident, charming—everything you wanted to be. You were complete opposites of each other, but in just the right way to balance each other out. He noted every little thing about you, so much so that he began to do some of the things you did.

He’d use the dorky slang you used subconsciously when talking to other people, or start playing with the pretty rings on his finger like you told him you did when you got nervous. He listened to the music you recommend him, and connected the dots as to why you liked those songs. It all made sense, they explained you perfectly.

Everything was going great, till it wasn’t.

You didn’t know how it happened, or why, or maybe even what you could’ve done that changed him—but suddenly, he started acting different around you. The time you spent together was shortening and as were his touched and glances.

And the worst part about it? You weren’t in a relationship. You never where, but everyone just kinda knew that you were Farleighs’, and Farleigh was yours. No one ever questioned it, not even you, till now.

As you sat across Farleigh at the pub, playing with the flimsy black straw in your cocktail. You were so tired of him and his hot and cold actions and words. First moment he wanted you, and the next, he acts like he doesn’t even know you. It hurts, and you were sick of it.

Farleigh was talking to Felix about their home in Saltburn and stupid stories of how they used to throw these ‘amazingly grand’ parties during the summer and breaks they had. You huffed, standing up before harshly pushing in your chair. Why did you have to sit here and deal with this fuckary if you didn’t have to? You deserved better than the half-assed shit he was barely even offering.

As you walked away from the table full of people, a certain pair of eyes followed you, but you’d rather have died than look back. You heard footsteps follow hastily behind you as you exited the pub, the cold air welcoming you as you shivered.

“What’s your problem?” He shouted from behind you. You laughed dryly, spinning around to face him on your heel. “Oh you must be fucking kidding.” You laughed out. “My problem? No, what the fuck is your problem?” You yelled back at him.

“You’re the one who stormed off like a damn toddler! So enlighten me.” He fired back at you with furrowed brows. You felt your eyes water. God, you didn’t want to cry in front of him, but it hurt so badly. “Farleigh…why are you being like this?” You muttered.

He groaned as he ran a hand down is face. “Jesus, what are you on about?” He yelled out. “You keep leading me on!! I don’t understand it. You want me one second and the next you don’t!” You yelled back, pausing for a moment.

“You act like you love me and leave me the next second and it hurts, Farleigh. You hurt me!” You sobbed out, wiping your tears from your cheeks with your sleeve. He was taken aback for a moment, his mouth opening and closing. Almost as it he was at a loss for words. “That’s not—no, I didn’t—“ he started, but you cut him off as he reached to grab you.

“No. We’re done. Whatever we had is done. It’s over.” You said as you back away from him. Something inside of him snapped, and you could see it in the way his jaw clenched and eyes hardened. “Fine. Go on then. See if I give a fuck.” He chuckled out, shrugging his shoulders.

You couldn’t believe him. You couldn’t believe the words that were coming out his mouth. After everything you’ve said and done together, he has the audacity to act like he’s the superior one in this situation? It was the icing on the cake for you.

Tears ran down your face, and as they hit the ground, Farleigh felt his heart clench. Never did he wanna hurt you, but it’s what he had to do, or so he thought. He was gonna have to leave to go back to Saltburn with Felix in a month, and he couldn’t bring himself to take you.

Yes, he had fun times at Saltburn—but his family was crazy, rich, narcissistic assholes and he didn’t want you around them. More over, he didn’t want someone like Venetia to corrupt you in that way. He didn’t want you to become like her.

He knew he was being a dick, distancing himself from you. And he planned to keep it that way, but god, you made it nearly impossible to stay away. You were so inviting, how could he not succumb to his urges when it comes to you? He knew better, but he felt on top of the world when he was with you and he didn’t wanna let that go.

Watching you walk away from him right now made tears form in his own eyes, but all he could do is watch as you slipped further and further away from him. And he knew it was all his fault. All because he couldn’t communicate to you what the problem with himself was. He felt like such a coward, but he refused to hurt you more than he already had.

It had only been two weeks since you and Farleigh fell off. It was hard for you, and it was the hardest thing you’d ever done, but it was needed. You knew that.

When you stopped talking to him, you continued being friends with Felix and Oliver, but it was a nuisance. You were trying your hardest to forget about the tall, curly haired man and move on with your life, but they nearly made it impossible.

When you would all hang out, other friends included, Farleigh would show up and say act as if nothing had ever happened between the two of you. Felix and Oliver weren’t dumb, Farleigh was the one who came crying to them about what had happened. They seen right through Farleighs facade, acting as if he’s okay.

They were doing this kind of stuff on purpose, casually. Asking you about Farleigh, or bringing him up in conversation. They wanted you to give Farleigh another shot, but you gave him one too many chances to redeem himself, and you weren’t having it.

Felix invited you to one of his little frat parties, and I say little very lightly, because everyone knows the entire campus attends his parties.

You had no interest, but Oliver had insisted on you coming. Making it his mission to drag you out of the comfort of your bed. “You need this.” He insisted as he dug through your clothes. He pulled out an ed-hardy, strapless dress and some red platformed boots. “Oh this is fuckin’ perfect, love.” He smiled as he held it up to you.

“I dunno, Ollie. I don’t think I should go..” you muttered as you sat down on the edge of your bed, bringing your knees to your chest. Oliver sighed. “Cmon, just let loose tonight. You’ve been moping around for like ever!” He huffed out, yet a smile returning to his face as he held up some jewelry. “These’ll go good with it.” He urged.

You groaned and got up, snatching the clothes and jewelry out of his hands. “Out.” You grumbled. Oliver clapped his hands excitedly as he stepped out so you could get dressed.

The ed-hardy dress he chose for you hugged your curves in all the right places, your tits pushed together with the small padding built into the dress. You let Oliver back in and his jaw dropped. “You look fucking edible! Maybe you’ll get laid tonight.” He said, bumping your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, yet a smile danced on your lips. Oliver always knew how to make the best out of a bad situation, and you loved him for that. “Let’s go before I change my mind.” You laughed, he nodded his head.

When you arrived to the party, the lights were flashing different colors. Red, blue, green, etc. it reflected off of Felixs’ shirt as he approached you, Farleigh following next to him. You clicked your tongue and looked around for an exit.

A boy caught your eye. You’d seen him around the campus, he was friends with Felix a while ago but Farleigh didn’t like him, which ended with Felix ending their friendship. Nathan, was his name, you thought as you approached him.

His eyes trailed up and down your body, stopping at your breasts that were spilling out of the thin top part of your dress. “Hey.” You purred, batting your lashes up at him. He smiled. He was handsome, you had to admit—but no where near as handsome as Farleigh.

You shook your head from the thought, directing your attention back to the mediocre boy in front of you. “Hey, baby.” He whistled out. You giggled, obviously fake, but he couldn’t tell; most likely strung out on cocaine and alcohol.

His hands snaked around your waist and he pulled you to him. He was disgustingly sweaty and reeked of cheap cologne, almost as if he poured the whole bottle on himself. Sickeningly too strong, making you gag. You forced yourself to ignore it, instead focusing on the way his hands cupped your ass in your dress.

You turned around, your back pressed to his front, only to be met with Farleighs eyes from across the body-filled room. He was staring at you, then down to the hands around your waist, and his jaw clenched. Anger, betrayal and hurt was all Farleigh felt as he watched some stranger feel you up.

But he couldn’t do anything about it. He brought this upon himself, and he knew that. But he also knew he’d do anything for your forgiveness, so he marched his way over to where you stood. You knew you should have ran away, but you didn’t.

You let him rip you away from the stranger holding you. You let him drag you all the way back to your dorm silently, a painfully tight grip on your upper arm the whole way there. You knew this was wrong, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care anymore.

Once you reached your dorm, he slammed you against the door that was now shut. “What the fuck was that, hm?” He muttered. But something was different. His voice, still hard, wavered and you noticed tears in his eyes threatening to spill over. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You muttered.

All the sudden, he broke down. The tall boy, usually filled with confidence and pride fell to his knees before you with a small, barely noticeable sob. You stood there, unknowing of what to do, or what to say. This was new territory for you.

“M’sorry, baby. Please—“ he said through his tears. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry. Know I was I piece of shit, I’m sorry.” He repeated the words you longed to hear over and over again. “I’m sorry.” He said. Those two words weren’t ever said enough from him, and you basked in every moment he said it. It made you feel a sense of power over him.

You turned his arrogant, cocky ass into a whiney little boy begging for your forgiveness at your feet and, nasty enough, you fucking loved it. You loved that only you were able to bring him to his knees like this.

“Oh, You’re sorry? Hm?” You cooed down at him, running your fingers through his curly hair. He sniffled as he looked up at you, his pretty lashes wet with tears. “So fuckin’ sorry. Promise I’ll be better.” He muttered out, hugging your stomach.

“Prove it.” You told him. He rubbed his eyes with one of his hands as he looked up at you again. “What?” He muttered. You smiled. “Get on the bed.” was all you said.

He nodded before climbing onto the bed, laying on his back. “What—“ he started, but you didn’t let him finish. “Eat my pussy good, make me cum with your mouth and then I’ll forgive you.” You said. He sat up on his elbows and watched you undress through hooded eyes, till you were wearing absolutely nothing.

Your nipples grew hard under the cold air, and the wetness between your thighs he could see from where he lied on your bed; it glistened in the dim light of your bedroom. Your lips were glossy and plump as your tongue glided over them, and he felt his cock harden in his pants.

You climbed on top of him, hovering your pussy over his face. His mouth watered at the sight, and he gripped his cock through his pants. Your lowered yourself onto him till your full weight rested on his face.

He began lapping at your cunt with everything he had. Licking and slurping at your juices that ran down his chin. You tasted like heaven on his tongue, and he couldn’t get enough. You were the drug in him, and he was going fucking wild.

He was a starved man, and it had been too long since he had you like this. He whined when you lifted off of his face, pushing his head back down when he tries to extend his neck to connect his mouth to your pussy again desperately.

You click your tongue. “So desperate, hm?” You mocked with a laugh. Farleigh played nice long enough, you were holding up his meal, and he didn’t like it. “M’not fuckin done.” He growled out. You let out a gasp as his arms wrapped around your thighs, slamming you back down onto his mouth.

You moaned out as his tongue swirled around your bundle of nerves. “Farleigh!” You yelped. He groaned into your messy cunt, sending vibrations through it that had your head falling back. “Perfect little cunt.” He said, Voice muffled by your pussy.

His laps at your cunt more erratic as your moans became more high pitched, signaling that you were on the verge of your orgasm. Your hips moved against his face, your hands entangling themselves in his hair as you glided your cunt across his tongue.

“M’gonna cum, oh my god—“ you moaned out as you squeezed your breast. Farleigh moaned. “Cum on my fuckin’ tongue. Good girl” He grumbled against you as you felt a wave of pleasure roll off of you. The little pinch in your stomach finally releasing into that delicious orgasm you were so desperately chasing.

Farleigh was drowning in your juices, slurping and licking, taking everything you had to offer. He let you ride out your orgasm, your little clit bumping his nose in just the right way, your moans growing lower as you came down from your high breathlessly.

“M not done with you. Actin like a fuckin slut, letting that motherfucker touch you.” He said through clenched teeth as flipped you around onto your back, hoisting your legs over his shoulders.

He lined his cock to your entrance, clenching around nothing. He smeared his pre-cum around your folds before slowly, almost teasingly, sinking into you. You felt him fill you so full of him, almost painfully. The sting was so agonizingly good, and you wanted more.

When he bottomed out in you, his bottom lip was between his teeth, biting down so hard he nearly drew blood. You yelped when he lifted his hips before harshly slamming himself back into you, over and over again.

His pace began to pick up, his balls slapping against the flesh of your ass loudly. You gripped around him firmly, so much so that he could barely pull out of you. It made him wince, but he wanted this more than anything. He’s been craving this since you left him; he jacked himself off at night to the thought of being in your warmth.

His hand found it’s way to your throat, gripping tightly. “Take this cock, baby. Know this slutty pussy can take it.” He muttered as pried your mouth open with his thumb. He spit into your mouth, lightly slapping the side of your face, signaling for you to swallow, to which you did.

You felt so small beneath him as he pounded relentlessly into you, the grip on your throat never wavering. His groans were like music to your ear, and the sudden flip in him turned you on to no extent. It was fucking perfect how he could be so needy in two different ways. First, begging for anything you’ll give him, and the next, taking what he wanted from you desperately.

“You with me, honey?” He moaned out against your ear. You mumbled incoherently, your words slurring together. You couldn’t focus enough to form a sentence with the way he was fucking you, your mind going blank. “Fucked you dumb. My stupid little whore.” He mocked as his hips stuttered against yours.

You knew he was close by the way he throbbed and swelled inside you, squeezing down onto him more as he hit that bundle of nerves inside of you with each thrust. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you gripped onto Farleighs wrist that held your neck, heels digging into his back.

His breathing was uneven and both of your bodies were sweaty messes together, but what really had you in a chokehold was the way that even when he was dominating you, his whimpers never stopped. Still so needy for your cunt as you let him take what he needed from you helplessly.

He came deep inside of you, painting your gummy walls white with his seed. His hips stilled against you, making sure to stuff you full of his cum, not wanting any of it to go to waste. When he finally released your neck, you looked down to where you were connected but your eyes froze on the sight before you.

His tamed mound of hair above his cock was soaked with your juices, but what really got you, was the evident bulge showing through your stomach. He grabbed your hand, holding it onto your stomach where the bulge of his cock was. “Feel that? Remember, only I can fuck you this good.” He spat out as he pressed down, and you released a moan at the sensation.

His free hand traveled down to your clit, rubbing harshly and fast. “Gonna cum, please, can I cum?” You whimpered out as you clenched the sheets beneath you. Farleigh nodded feverishly. “Cum for me, be a good girl.” He muttered as he slowly fucked his cock into you at just the right pace.

The way he dragged along your walls, paired with the stimulation on your swollen clit, deprived clit had you reaching for the moon as you came for a second time tonight. Your mouth hung agape, not a word slipping out as a breathless moan slid past your plump lips. You needed this. You’d been craving this, and you finally got it.

Farleigh nestled himself in you, leaning his head down till his forehead was pressed against yours. Your hair was matted to your forehead from sweat, as was Farleighs, but you didn’t care. It was the least of your concerns. All you wanted was him, and you finally had him again, and this time it actually felt right.

But the words he spoke was what sealed the deal for you.

“I love you, y/n. From the moment I seen you sitting alone at lunch when we we’re sophomores back in Highschool, I’ve loved you. I loved you when you were small, shy and quiet, barely knowing anyone; and I love you now when you’re the socialist butterfly I know. I love you when you laugh, when you smile, when you speak, and even when you cry.” He said, tears running down your face.

“I will always love you.” He finished, kissing the tears that fell onto your rosy cheeks.

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

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[hangup119]

don't get the deal | h. taesan (TEASER)

being the shoulder to cry on is no easy task - especially not for han taesan, who has lived almost half of his life painfully smitten over someone he is confident would never, ever think of wanting him as more than just a friend. he wonders if he will ever get out of this so-called "friend zone," or maybe he just doesn't get the deal at all.

pairing. han taesan x fem. reader

genres + warnings. friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, one-sided pining, eventual happy ending, slight angst + profanity, taesan is bad at feelings, reader is even worse

playlist. don't get the deal by beabadoobee; but i like you by boy next door; somethin' stupid by frank sinatra; about a girl by nirvana; disasterology by pierce the veil; if i'm james dean, you're audrey hepburn by sleeping with sirens

expected word count. 7k-10k words | teaser word count. 1.3k words

author's note. hey goisss... ive had this in the drafts for so so long but for some reason i started working on it again and im nearing the end so hopefully this will be out very soon !!! dont quote me on that tho live laugh love user hangup119's work ethic <3 ALSO btw this teaser is like a flashback kinda thing but the real story actually takes place in their college days

@onedoornet | reblogs appreciated!

IT WAS HIGH SCHOOL WHEN YOU RUINED TAESAN'S LIFE FOREVER.

To be more specific, it was during your last year of high school when he realized that there was simply no way he was ever going to win you over. Not now, and certainly not ever.

Because here’s the thing: Taesan was not a bad-looking guy, he’s far from it, actually. In fact, he had enough business cards from agency recruiters that could fit a whole shoe box, so his looks clearly were never the problem here. Was it his personality, then? Probably not that, either. He was pretty chill most of the time, and he had never really acted up around anyone unless it truly called for it. He always made sure that he wasn’t making a fool out of himself around you, and there were never really incidents that could have painted him in a bad light in your eyes. He had decent grades, so he wasn’t stupid either, which was one of your major turn-offs. And he was sporty—he participated in the school’s soccer team, and he even had a bunch of fans giggling over him whenever he so much as passed them by while chasing after the ball, so his popularity was pretty decent too.

Was he simply not… your type? But that couldn’t be—you were always making heart eyes at Park Sunghoon who was two grades above, and he was told all the time that he was basically a lookalike of the guy! Not to mention you were always at Jung Sungchan’s games, cheering his name even when the guy was literally being benched. Taesan never got benched. He was the star player of his soccer team. You fawned over Park Wonbin when he performed at the school’s talent show, but Taesan could also sing and play the electric guitar just as well. You squealed over Lee Sohee because he was sooo cute! but Taesan knew how to get real fucking adorable, too! He practically had all of their qualities combined into one, and not once did you ever look back at him. 

And that’s when it hit him. 

It was prom that night, and he was off at the corner drinking from a cup of water instead of jumping along with the fray and bouncing up and down to some Drake song when his friend, Kim Leehan, approached him. 

“I’m not slow-dancing with you, Leehan,” he muttered, taking another sip of his bland water. “Piss off.”

Leehan raised his arms in response, smiling in a way that was just so Leehan-like of him. “Woah, woah, I get it. Someone pissed in your cup, or something? Literally and figuratively,” he laughed, leaning against the wall next to him. “Lighten up for once, ‘san. It’s your first and last prom, you know?” 

Taesan only grunted in return. 

“Look at you; so emo tonight,” Leehan said, defeated. He followed the other’s gaze towards the dance floor, where everyone is packed together like a can of sardines. “But you’re always so normal around Y/N.” 

Taesan paused.

Leehan laughed again. “Hm, maybe not?” 

Sometimes, it was both a blessing and a curse to be friends with someone like Kim Leehan. 

“Stop talking about things you already know,” Taesan murmured, chucking the water cup into the trash can a few meters away. He placed his hands inside his pockets, looking straight ahead amidst the dizzying lights and the dispersed crowd now that a slow song started playing.

“Why don’t you go ask her for a dance?” Leehan suggested, signaling towards the dance floor. 

“She’s literally holding hands with Yang Jungwon right now,” Taesan deadpanned. “Are you kidding me? How’d she get him of all people as her prom date?” 

Scoring the smartest and the most popular student in your school has got to be the biggest flex of your high school career. Taesan had almost no complaints except for the fact that Yang Jungwon was your date instead of—him! Any moment now and he’d be losing his mind. Actually, scratch that, he probably already was. 

Leehan hummed. 

“Do you think,” he began, slowly, darting his line of sight between you who’s giggling at something Yang Jungwon said, before turning back to Taesan, the angstiest kid he’s ever known. “That, maybe, if you had just asked her out to prom with you… then maybe she’d have said yes?” 

Finally, the gears inside Taesan’s head started to turn. Leehan smiled at the sight.

Taesan quickly scoffed. “No way,” he denied, crossing his arms. “Why would she go with me when she’s got Yang Jungwon as her date? It’d only happen in my dreams.” 

He figured it out anyway. It wasn’t because he wasn’t as handsome as Park Sunghoon, or as sporty as Jung Sungchan, or as musically talented as Park Wonbin (though he’d beg to differ), or as cute as Lee Sohee. Heck, it wasn’t even because he wasn’t as smart or as popular as Yang Jungwon. 

Maybe it was never because of those things that made you look at them instead of him. 

Maybe you were just never interested in him at all. 

And Taesan will have no other choice but to live with that fact forever. 

Leehan’s smile dropped, and he peeled himself away from the wall. Just as he was about to leave, he stopped for a second just to say: “You’re so—stubborn.” 

Taesan looked at him indignantly. “...What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Leehan shrugged, finally walking away. “You tell me, dude.” 

And then he was gone, rushing off to join the rest of their friends while Taesan stayed in the back, alone and miserable all because of his newfound epiphany. Though he supposed he was already miserable the moment you entered the venue with Yang Jungwon right beside you. 

It was a time of new beginnings for Taesan; a time to finally move on from you. 

Though, if only it was that easy.

Two weeks later, when you were working on a final project with him, you unexpectedly dropped the news that you and Jungwon have broken up. Because Jungwon was going to some Ivy League, and you were decidedly… not. You couldn’t handle the thought of being long-distance, so you decided to just cut things off with him since it can’t be helped, you know? And then you proceeded to laugh it off with that huge, idiotic smile of yours before continuing on with the project. Taesan didn’t know what was so funny.

Eventually, he had to share his water with you when you started sobbing hysterically inside of the library, hiccuping and all. 

He admittedly felt awful seeing you cry over Yang Jungwon, your high school boyfriend of probably only two months, but most importantly, he felt awful because of the relief that suddenly washed over him. 

…And what did that make Taesan?

So, really, maybe it was for the better that you would never look at Taesan the way he wished you would. That no matter how many times he has lent you an ear to talk to or a shoulder to cry on, you never bothered to stop for a moment and think that hey, maybe this guy likes me to some capacity, and maybe I should give him a chance. Because what kind of friend is he to feel relieved at the fact that you had gotten dumped by your boyfriend? That when your heart was broken, he could only rejoice at the fact that he now has a higher chance of getting with you once again even when it is so clear that he never once did? 

How could he sit next to you and think such thoughts? 

And yet, even when you keep jumping from one person to another, falling for someone, crying over another—Taesan will always be there for you when it all comes crashing down. A friend to cheer you on, to lift you up, to steady you—because that’s all he’ll ever be to you. 

Han Taesan was only seventeen years old when you ruined his life. 

And for what it is worth, he is still in love with you.

story by hangup119. do not steal.