#obviously taking a man’s life had an impact but what I wouldn’t give to know more about what Marc thought this revealed about him

[age-of-moonknight]

“An Unquiet Grave,” Moon Knight: City of the Dead (Vol. 1/2023), #4.

Writer: David Pepose; Penciler: Marcelo Ferreira; Inker: Jay Leisten; Colorist: Rachelle Rosenberg; Letterer: Cory Petit

[lau219]

After Hours

Part 2

Part 1 here

……………………………………………………………………………

Why did she have to do that?

Why did she have to go and say that? Look at him like that?

Why did she always make it so difficult?

“It means that I think you’re a better man than your father.”

As he’d registered what she’d said, Robert had just looked at her for a moment, unable to immediately react. Her words had hit him like a freight train, and the way she had looked at him made everything else momentarily fade into the background. He didn’t know what he’d wanted to do more, just keep looking at her, or pull her to him and kiss her. But hearing those words from her and seeing the look in her eyes made him think and hope for just the briefest moment that maybe she felt the same way he did.

But then she’d blushed fiercely, obviously uncomfortable as she cleared her throat, breaking the moment. Looking away from him and down at the papers in her hands again, she quickly shook her head.

“What I mean is, your father may not see the importance or value of charity, but you do, and that’s why I’m coming to you. He may not care, but you know how positively this would impact the city. We’ve got to let them apply again.”

His heart dropping into his stomach, Robert tried to mentally collect himself. She hadn’t meant it that way. And seeing how she now seemed to want to look anywhere but at him and get out of his office as fast as possible, he guessed the way he’d looked back at her had made her realize he may have interpreted it exactly as he had at first.

Why did this have to be so hard? Why did he have to be in love with her? Why couldn’t anything beyond the business world go his way for once and she could love him back?

That freight train feeling had been all too familiar ever since the beginning. When the board had convinced his father to start a grant program, Robert had been certain it wouldn’t take. As Robert could attest to all too well, Maurice wasn’t one for having any empathy or interest in anything that didn’t directly benefit him or make him richer, and he certainly never sought out an opportunity to give handouts. But with the angle that the image of being a more charitable company would ultimately lead to even more profit, Maurice had agreed to the grant program. And that’s when Y/N had walked into Robert’s life.

When he’d entered the board room that first day, he was surprised to see that it was a woman his father had hired. Sure, plenty of women worked for the company in roles that were traditionally more female occupied, but Robert was shocked that Maurice had given a higher status role to a woman. She’d be working directly with Maurice, Robert, the foundation, and the board, and so Robert had expected a man.

It turned out that the reason Maurice had hired her was because she was one of only a few applicants, her education was the most extensive, and since he didn’t really care about any of this anyway, he’d pretty much just picked her from the top of the pile. He wasn’t going to be working very closely with her himself anyway; he was passing her off to Robert.

His father had begrudgingly been preparing him to take over a large portion of company operations, and Robert learned as he’d been briefed by Maurice’s assistant that part of what he’d be handling was oversight of the majority of the grants Y/N was hired to select and process. It was something Maurice considered busy work, so he had no problem passing it off to Robert, with the instruction that Robert couldn’t let Y/N get too generous.

But Robert quickly found that he could never say no to her, and it was because she was herself quite possibly the most generous, empathetic, sweetest woman he’d ever met. She was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside, and while Maurice was determined to keep as much of his money as possible, Y/N was determined to put it to better use.

But she also had entered the company without a lot of the preconceived notions most people had about the Fischers. Robert was used to being assumed to be exactly like his father, and people treated him as such, assuming he was completely stuck up, snobbish, spoiled, and void of any emotion beyond greed.

But not Y/N. She never looked at him that way. She made him feel like a person. Made him feel seen beyond the rich exterior. She was the only one around him who bothered to notice there was more to him than his last name.

But he couldn’t do anything about it. He was her boss, and he couldn’t express any of what he was feeling. It would be inappropriate, unprofessional. And she could quite possibly think that he was just using his position to take advantage of her, treat her like an entitled rich man would. And even if she didn’t think that, he had no reason to believe that she felt the same way. Just like today, there were times when he got a hint that perhaps she did, but every time, she’d then take it back somehow.

He couldn’t take the risk of just asking her. If he brought it up or asked her out and then she said no, it would be much too awkward, and then what if she quit? As much as it hurt, Robert would rather have unrequited feelings for her and still be able to be around her than admit how he felt and then lose her.

But he could never stop thinking about her and how wonderful it would be if she did feel the same. If only he could be the recipient of her warmth and sweetness, but on a much more personal level. He’d give it right back to her tenfold, and also take care of her. And although she knew all about Robert’s money, Y/N wasn’t materialistic, which only made her even more lovable. She saw who he was beneath that. But there was no doubt that if he had her, he’d give her anything she could want. Not because she’d expect it, but because he’d want to. He’d spoil her as much as he loved her, but she’d know it wasn’t because he would be trying to buy her affection. No, he just wanted to love her.

But apparently, that was asking too much.

Part 3

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[adnauseum11]

Short Takeoff, Vertical Landing (John Price x Reader)

John gives you a gift and you explore your understanding of the man.

3.1k words (longer than I normally like, my bad)

CW: swearing, sex (MDNI - 18+ only)

This is shameless slice of life smut - you've been warned!

This work is part of the S.N.A.F.U series, the Masterlist is pinned to my blog.

Feedback welcome!

Ao3

It takes a moment for you to compute what John’s words really mean, most of your higher brain function temporarily offline. Your body is still humming with the remnants of pleasure, making sitting up a languid affair. John’s pulling something out of his bedside drawer that is very much not shaped like a condom, to your partial dismay.

You crawl across the bed on slightly unsteady limbs and push your hair back, its disheveled state threatening to obscure your view of the handsome man in front of you. He’s holding out a flat, long box to you and you know instantly it’s jewelry. You hesitate, your experience with previous boyfriends and jewelry not typically good ones. The item in question almost inevitably not to your taste and something generic a salesperson has sold them. You quietly dread having another random piece you’ll be obliged to wear. Unfortunately, John reads you like a book.

“This was for Christmas but I fucked that up. If you don’t like it, we can change it.”

His deep voice is calm, but there’s a sudden tension to the set of his shoulders that gives him away as he holds the box out to you. If you didn’t know him so well you likely wouldn’t have noticed the slight shift in his stance but whatever is in the box in his hands means something to him. His willingness to interrupt sex for this should have tipped you off to that, but you freely blame the orgasm you’ve already had for being slow on the uptake.

The slim box is heavier than you expect, and you flick your eyes up to John’s face, the full weight of his attention settling on you again. You subconsciously hold your breath as you open the lid, the light of the room slowly revealing strands of luminous pearls gently forming a wave in the cradle of the box. The two long strands are held together with what’s obviously a vintage rectangle clasp, the aged silver and small diamonds sparkling amongst the gently rolling pearls. The breath you’ve been holding leaves your lungs in a surprised rush.

“Oh my god – John.”

“You like it?”

“I love it, this is exactly my style. Oh, this is gorgeous! It must have cost you a fortune!”

John doesn’t comment on the cost, a slow smile replacing the carefully blank expression he’s been wearing since you took charge of the box.

“Thought of you when I saw them. I’m glad you like them, darling.”

He’s about to say something else but changes his mind, reaching out to cup your jaw for a kiss instead. You clock the shift and run your fingertips over the pearls lightly, enjoying the feel of the cool smooth globes for a moment while you consider the man in front of you. You slowly piece together his request for your dress from earlier with the unspoken words he’s just swallowed and look down at the pearls in the box.

“Should I wear them?”

You know that’s the right question when his pupils dilate, his fingers spasming along your jaw as a full body shiver runs through him. You lift the necklace carefully from the box, handing him the empty container back. Without looking he tosses it, sending his cell phone and spare change flying from the impact. He doesn’t flinch, his eyes locked on you as you settle the pearls around your neck, spinning the clasp so it sits against your nape. The cool spheres brushing against your skin raise goosebumps again, your nipples tightening. You wonder what you must look like, perched nearly naked on the edge of the bed in nothing but a bra and the pearls he’s bought you, your hair a post orgasm mess. You’re about to run your hand over it self-consciously but John steps into your space, tilting your head back as he bends to kiss you again.

“You’re stunning; I love that I get to see you like this.”

You aren’t expecting that kind of tender admission from the aroused man in front of you, and it makes the breath catch in your throat, your hands wrapping around his wrists. John swallows the soft hiccup of breath, kissing you hungrily as he cups the back of your head. The sweep of his tongue over yours with the hint of your taste still discernable unlocks something in you. Suddenly you find yourself rising up on your knees to kiss him back, John’s appreciative groan giving you a jolt of empowerment. Your hands scrabble over his shoulders, sinking your fingertips into the heavy muscle as you press against his solid frame. John’s deft fingers undo your bra, breaking away from your mouth to tug it off your arms. The pearls make a soft sound as they clink together with your movements, sending a shiver down your spine.

The planes of John’s stomach jump as your hands land on his lower abdomen, fingers trailing through the dark hairs there. They work their way under the band of his pants, shoving them down his shifting hips as his mouth drops to seek out the line of your collarbone. He nips the rounded corner of your shoulder before kicking off his pants and boxers, his erection bobbing against your hip. Your fingers find him automatically, wrapping around the hard length of him and stroking, his hiss of pleasure ghosting across your neck. The gentle rattle of the pearls as your arm moves back and forth is seductive, bracing yourself with a palm in the centre of John’s chest, the dark hairs crinkling under your palm. You give him a gentle shove with your fingertips and when that doesn’t register you remove your hand from around his length, placing both palms on his chest to direct him into bed. John allows himself to be moved, landing nearly in the middle of the bed, his eyes locked on you with an intensity that makes your belly quiver.

His gaze follows the sway of the pearls over your breasts as you crawl up his body, sliding your palms up the hair of his thick thighs to cup him, forcing a jagged exhale out of his lungs. The head of his cock is flushed a deep red, a matching colour working its way over his throat and chest. His stomach pulls taut as he watches you bend over him, stroking him firmly, foreskin pulling back as you wrap your lips around the tip. John’s groan of pleasure rumbles through his body, his fingers landing in your hair. You open your jaw take as much of him as you can, making a few enthusiastic passes before pulling back and swirling your tongue around the head, tracing with the flat of your tongue. John flexes his hips, chasing the sensation with a guttural moan that only encourages you to wreck him further, your eyes landing on his blissed-out face.

The pearls trail through his dark body hair, making a mouth-watering contrast between the cool luminous globes and the heated flesh in your grasp. You return your attention to the tip of his cock, lapping your tongue over the underside while you fondle his balls. As his hips arch again you open your jaw and let the rise send his length down your throat, the stretch making your eyes water. His choked gasp and the press of his blunt fingernails into your scalp telegraph his pleasure at your unexpected action.  You hold still for a moment, your body fighting the invasion, your gag reflex fluttering around him before you pull back. The salty taste of his pre-cum coats your tongue and the shuddering deep groan you pull from him as you ease off goes straight to your pussy, a low throb starting to build again between your legs.

“Fuck, that feels so good.”

The low reverberation of his voice rolls down your spine and you flex your fingers against his hip in response, encouraging him to repeat the action. The naked desire in his voice makes you want to rub your thighs together and purr so you do the next best thing and moan around his tip, forcing a sharp gasp out of his lungs. His control is slipping, you can tell by the way his hips buck upwards, not even and measured as before. His length slides down your throat again, the quivering muscles wrenching an unguarded moan from his chest. The pearls draped over your skin start to collect against your throat and you realize he’s gathering them in his fist. You follow the unspoken direction and ease off, long strings of saliva connecting you for a moment after he slips from your mouth.

“Condom, now.”

He releases the necklace to let you lean over and fish a condom out of the drawer and you follow the order without argument, wiping your face in the process. Your willingness to be ordered around ends abruptly with a smack to his hand when he tries to take it away from you and take over. You end up straddling his wide thighs to pin him down with your weight, knowing that John only stays flat on his back because it’s what you want. He lets you roll the condom down his hard length and press him up against his abdomen so you can scoot forward over his hips. His breathing is laboured, your hands on him making his muscles contract as he fights to lay still as you settle over him. His eyes are dark and intense, locked on you as the pearls sway over your body with your movements, the gentle roll of them over your skin like a caress.

“Fuck me, you’re gorgeous.”

John breathes the words as you kneel over him, reaching behind you to wrap your fingers around him again, guiding him to your slick entrance, focused on lining yourself up. You answer him with a heated kiss, your attention on the stretch as you lower yourself, spearing your aching pussy on his tense body. Your palm rests on the steady planes of John’s chest, his head thrown back and the muscles of his neck corded as you slowly start rocking your hips, working him inside until he’s fully seated. He hisses as you rise over him and sink back down, setting a slow and steady pace with a pleased purr. The weight of John’s gaze lands on you again, his hands hovering over your hips as you move, the pearls rocking back and forth over the tight buds of your nipples. The heated drag of his cock through your silken walls has your nails biting into his chest in pleasure. John groans but doesn’t try to shift your hands, his attention fully on you as his hips rock up to meet yours.

“You like seeing me in things you’ve picked out?”

The words fall out of your mouth without any forethought, the part of your brain normally tasked with assimilating information overwhelmed with delicious sensation. The slight rise of John’s hips grinds his public bone against your clit with each downward stroke and your brain goes fuzzy with each lingering contact, shivers running up your spine.

“Yes, yes just like that, bloody hell.”

His hands finally land on your hips, squeezing you as he urges you on, trying to speed you up. You resist, twisting slightly as you rise pulling a low groan out of him, your hands wrapping around his wrists to steady yourself. You slide down his length again, clenching around him as your grind down, biting your bottom lip. There’s a severe look on John’s face as he curses again, your breath coming in shorter pants as you move over him.

“Why that dress?”

John answers that nagging question with the same bald honesty he’s answered everything else you’ve asked of him today, his eyes falling to the spot where your bodies are connected, his fingers dimpling your hips with his grip.

“Don’t think I’ve stopped thinking about you in that dress since you turned up in it.”

You continue your steady pace, John’s flushed face impossible to look away from. There’s devotion etched there, and your heart squeezes painfully in your chest, feeling too large for your ribcage.

“When you were away? Did you ever think of me in that dress?”

“Every night. Love, please.”

This is as close as you’ve ever heard John beg for anything, an echo of his words from this morning. His desperation sends a thrill through your belly, speeding you up, the pearls clacking together against your heated flesh. You can feel John’s cock jerking deeply inside you, bumping against the sensitive patch of flesh that resides there and it weakens your thighs, your body wanting to go pliant against him.     

“John- “

“I’ve got you.”

He understands immediately and grips the globes of your ass as you drape over his heaving chest, your breathy panting muffled against the base of his neck. He braces his feet against the bed and fucks up into you, his grip spreading your cheeks as you moan into his ear. You can barely hear his muttered curse over the rush of blood in your ears and your own wanton noises, unable to stop yourself as John chases his pleasure now, his grip bruising. You nip at his thick shoulder, your teeth razing over his skin, his low rumbling moan vibrating through you as his blunt cock relentlessly buries itself in your slick pussy. The tightening coil of pleasure builds at the base of your spine, your muscles clenching around him as he buries himself and holds still, his hands shifting back to your hips.

“Sit up, love, I want to see you.”

You follow John’s order mindlessly, dragging your palms over his chest to press yourself back up, biting your lip when John twitches deep inside you, meeting his heated gaze. To your surprise he sits up too, the thick muscles of his abdomen flexing and pressing against you as he settles inches from your face, his legs going akimbo behind you. His big palms land on the tops of your thighs, squeezing your flesh in encouragement.

“Bounce, love.”

Again, you follow his direction without any compunction, and immediately your nails dig into the tops of his shoulders as this position offers more friction against your clit. A gasp is torn from your throat after the first experimental rise of your hips, and soon you land on a rhythm that has the frame of the bed groaning. The pearls are trapped between your bodies, the soft clinking nearly inaudible as the tension in you builds quickly, the angle making your toes curl and your moans climb in volume. John’s strong hands steady your sides, his body jerking up into you with each bounce, the walls of your soaked pussy bearing down on him tightly. His eyes are inches from yours, and you’re transfixed and unable to look away, his pupils blown.

All it takes is a firm smack on your ass to tip you over the edge, the jolt enough to make you clench around him, your nails raking over his back as you try desperately to ground yourself against the sudden cresting wave of your orgasm. A keening cry escapes you, your inner thighs trembling with strain as you try to clamp around his hips, the rhythmic pull of your slickened walls dragging a primal sound of out John’s chest before he tips you onto your back. His demanding thrusts send sparks shooting up your spine, catching the back end of your orgasm and drawing it out. You can feel the thundering of your heart in each extremity, your hands wrapped around John’s biceps as his hips jerk into the soft flesh of your body, the wet slap replacing the groaning of the bedframe. John’s thrusts quickly lose their rhythm, your leaking pussy pulsing around him tightly, drawing a broken sound out of him. He jerks into you deeply, making tiny little thrusts as he cums hard, his forehead landing on your shoulder as he groans loudly.

You stay locked like that, desperately trying to catch your breath for a few long minutes, John recovering quicker than you. You wordlessly protest when he tries to disentangle himself, tightening your limbs around him with a groan.

“I love you but I’ve got to get rid of this condom, darling.”

The low rumble of his voice in your ear convinces you to relax your hold on him and he extricates himself gingerly, leaving you sprawled the wrong way on the bed, too relaxed to bother moving the right way round. Finally, your heart rate slows and you marshal yourself to sit up, propping yourself on an arm. The pearls drape gracefully over your body as you move, swaying with you. John is at the sink when you meet his warm gaze across the room.

“You alright, love?”

“mhm, just needed a minute.”

John watches, half amused as you wriggle out of bed, making your way on wobbly legs to join him in the bathroom to pee. He leaves and returns with the case for the pearls, placing it on the counter by your elbow as you wash and dry your hands.

“John?”

You ask as he turns back to the bed, tugging the duvet cover with the wet spot off the duvet and tossing it towards the laundry hamper. The case for the pearls closes with a click as you return them to their place and you nudge the box into it's new spot beside your perfumes lined up on the counter.

“Hm?”

John’s proclivity for order and neatness distracts him from answering you and you smile affectionately as he wrestles the duvet back into a fresh cover. Once he’s satisfied you climb into bed, watching the curve of his spine as he bends to collect his cell and change from where they have scattered.

“What should I know about Kate before our dinner?”

He straightens and replaces the objects in his hands on his bedside table, crawling into bed and spooning you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he rolls you on to your side. You offer no resistance, sighing softly, feeling deeply content and drowsy, your fingers tracing over his forearm.

“Well, to start she’s American, and a very good poker player. Impressive poker face.”

From your position you can’t tell if he’s joking or not but you let his words roll over you nonetheless, the rise and fall of his voice soothing. Exhaustion from the highs and lows of the day are pulling you under before you can learn what part of America she hails from, or ask any more questions about the mysterious figure in John’s life.

Next Chapter

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[philaet0s]

I’m going to be ranting about my own story (Live and Die For Moments That We Stole) because why not after all

If you’re seeing this it’s probably because you’re coming from ao3 anyway

The clinic as Baz’s downfall

When I decided to make Baz go through conversion therapy in this story, even though it wasn’t very historically accurate for the time period that Live and Die is set in -shock therapy for conversion therapy in Britain became more prevalent a few decades later- it was for a purpose. Malcolm could have had many different reactions to Baz’s homosexuality, but in my mind, it had to be the clinic.

It’s such an essential part of Baz’s character. Other forms of trauma wouldn’t have had all the long lasting effects that the clinic did.

First of all, it’s essential to Baz’s perception of his sexuality as an illness, something he says often, specifically at the beginning of the story. That idea obviously comes from the fact that Malcolm sent him to a clinic to be cured. When Simon walks into his life, Baz sees him as a symptom, it’s why he’s so hostile to him at first. Simon makes him feel things that he knows are signs of his illness and he hates that. The beginning of their relationship is essentially Baz coming to terms with the fact that his homosexuality wasn’t something he could be cured of and accepting that he was attracted to Simon.

The other aspect in which the clinic affects Baz’s relationships with Simon is his trauma surrounded sex. Again, it’s something that with time and ‘practice’, he works through thanks to Simon, but it still had a huge impact on their relationship, and more importantly, it had an impact on Baz’s health: his headaches (caused by the conditioning of the clinic to be physically repulsed by homosexual thoughts/behaviours)

And the headaches are the beginning of the end for Baz, which is why the clinic is so crucial. It’s what dooms him. Baz was dead the minute I wrote him having his first headache.

The headaches led him to taking laudanum, which he developed an addiction to. An addiction, that he had to fight several times, which returned to a higher degree after Simon came back from the war and left again. Laudanum became opium and opium became heroin. As the drugs he took were stronger and stronger, the effects they had on him became worse and worse (the entire period between December 1915 after Simon left and the moment when Baz goes off to war). His addiction put a strain on his relationship with Agatha and kept him away from his children, robbing them of what they then didn’t know was their last months together.

His addiction is, as much as the war, what eventually kills him. In chapter 71 (June 1916), in what is his last POV in the story, Baz mentions that he’s almost running out of heroin. (You may note that his last action in the story is to give the man who blackmailed him some of his heroin. The last thing Baz does is shortening the time he has left to live.)

By the time the Battle of the Somme starts (1st of July 1916) he’s going through withdrawal. I didn’t want to write his death scene in the story, but I am stating it here; Baz was experiencing withdrawal when he died. He couldn’t fight properly because of it. He would have survived if it wasn’t for the effects withdrawal had on him.

And the withdrawal was caused by the drugs.

And his taking drugs was caused by the laudanum.

And his taking laudanum was cause by his headaches.

And his headaches were caused by the clinic.

Baz fought so hard, during this entire story, to grow in spite of all the trauma he had from the clinic. A huge part of his character development in Live and Die is becoming able to love a man and accept himself even with all that bagage, something that he did with Simon and for Simon.

For a moment, Simon’s love saved him.

But it didn’t matter. And it’s unfair, and it’s tragic, but it’s how it is, how it was always meant to be.

Malcolm dug Baz’s grave when he sent him to the clinic.

In the end, his father’s hatred killed him.

I know this is frustrating. I know it’s not the ending anyone wanted. I know “hatred won” is not a good moral. But it’s the direction I chose and I don’t regret it.

I wanted Baz’s death to be unfair, as mean as it sounds. A “fair” death doesn’t have an impact on anyone. I’m not writing this story for people to read it with a straight face. I’m writing this story because I want people to feel things. I hope I was able to make you feel things. I hope you can forgive me for killing Baz. I hope you understand.

[neighborhoodscorpio]

Okay… in defense of the homewrecker.

The Ariana Grande hate is so crazy. I just feel like you have to be the most unserious person in the world to get worked up and feel the need to say something about a celebrity’s love life. Especially NOW. There are hundreds of abusive, toxic, physically harmful, predatory men in the entertainment industry and you can log on to see nothing but love for them! For FREE! Let alone every literal war happening right now. Yet this woman gets tangled in an affair and I see walls of hate everywhere. I don’t even care if what she did was wrong. I literally don’t. Half that industry should be in prison and y’all are yelling at her.

Let alone all the female artists who have made music very transparently about being The Other Woman… fucking baby daddies… etc etc. I feel as though she’s getting a misogynistic public punishment for presenting as a good girl figure and behaving differently. Weird aspect of the culture where indefensible behavior is more often tolerated when it’s openly shared.

Getting on a feminist high horse about jumping on Ariana Grande is laughable. The contempt for her is sooooo emotionally charged. I’m so surprised and confused by it. It feels like her biggest crime was daring to act like every other baddie while being 5’2” and I’m serious when I say that LMFAOOO… like… The amount of women jumping on it is crazy. They are speaking about feminism to hate on Ariana Grande. Girl we don’t have rights in half the states in the US. Ariana could steal five husbands and her feminist impact would still be greater than your comment. The fact that she did public democratic advocacy during the last election is literally enough to cover it. It’s like every woman feels as though miss Grande stole her man specifically. It’s giving traumatized. And I get that. But…

I have a really really really really hot take about cheating to add. To wrap up the whole topic… since I’ve been flabbergasted seeing the public opinion on every fucking website that I log into… listen. If anyone can steal your man, you should know about it. If you married a pathetic little worm, you should know about it. Instead of living your whole life convinced that your partner isn’t a piece of shit, I think it’s best to see what they’re capable of. My REALLY hot take is that the people who “steal” partners are doing a service. They’re the ones who reveal shitty character. They’re deep in the morally grey, to me.

Even though they might be doing it for self-serving reasons, obviously, there’s still a valuable function there. If a woman ever “stole” a partner from me, I’d thank her, key the guy’s car, and sleep really really well knowing that I’m not counting on someone weak. I wouldn’t even mourn what we had because it wasn’t actually there. If someone can’t even demonstrate a level of certainty with petty shit, I would never want to find out how weak they were in serious situations. Sooooo many men are horrible fucking people. If they cheat in love, they cheat in business, and elsewhere. The double standard is crazy there too. A woman doing romantic crimes is prison worthy. A man assaulting people though… just in his nature.

If anything, I feel bad for the women who actually want the cheating men they pursued. They’ve won a terrible life tournament and don’t even know it. The male validation is so strong, so addicting, that they can’t see the material damage that they’re causing to themselves, let alone OTHERS. If you can’t recognize that as a symptom of patriarchal poison idk how to talk with you about it. Feminism is so shallow in the mainstream that there is NO analysis if a woman’s actions are unsavory. Women hurt women because of men every single day. To be honest, if there wasn’t a baby in the picture, no one would give a shit about Ariana’s actions, and I haven’t seen that point made anywhere, either. An affair is an affair and no one cares. You hurt a woman? Who gives a shit. But now you’ve hurt a BABY? Suddenly the conversation turns into some bullshit about feminism. One of the most vile expressions of patriarchy is valuing a woman’s reproductive capacity more than her personhood, and this is no fucking different. Now that she’s reproduced, she almost deserves personhood. Outrage. Social commentary, even. Again— especially sickening in todays climate.

I just really can’t take y’all seriously. If it pissed you off just say that. But don’t invent a feminist argument to make yourself feel justified for hating Ariana Grande now. From that angle, there is far too much nuance to not make yourself look stupid.

[folkloreguk]

💌🧸 Brother's Best Friend

A/N: Got this request a while ago and now I'm wondering why I've never written this trope before bc this was so fun??? Lmk how you liked it! x

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), smut, size/strength kink??, choking, dom!bias (it’s kinda playful tho), brother's best friend!au, sneaking around, play fighting, lowkey getting caught but not directly?

words: ~ 4.1 k

disclaimer: I don’t mean for the age gap to be gigantic…I’m talking about anything from 1-2 years maximum tbh!!! Anything else would be weird and I’m not about that! They’re also both obviously consenting adults!

[H/N means 'his (bias) name']

In youreyes, your first meeting had been a disaster. The new spider man movie had been released only days ago, and you were adamant on seeing it. And to your luck, your older brother and his best friend had already made plans to watch it together. As a little sister, you were treated like the baby of the family, and it didn’t matter that you were far from being an infant anymore. So naturally, your brother had been condemned by your parents to bring you along. He declared his distaste in your presence by attempting to ignore you, but you were used to that. Just like you were aware of his bad moods, you knew he could change within minutes and magically turn into the sweetest, most caring big brother you could wish for.

Whatever. You didn’t need his approval to enjoy the trip to the movie theater, you told yourself. Had it not been for his best friend, who you hadn’t seen in ages. H/N and you had never properly spoken before, and the last time you saw him he had been an awkward, prepubescent boy who had appeared at your door to pick up your brother for a playdate. There was no trace of immaturity now. Instead, it was you who had morphed into an awkward, shy mess at the sight of him.

His ‘hello’ had a warm and deep melody to it which swooped you up in his aura so suddenly, you had no time to prepare. Had his smile always been this stupidly charming? Hell, it was so bright, you had to meticulously inspect the ground every time he sent a grin your way. When before you hadn’t felt guilty for being a bother, you now sure did. What impression would you leave, trailing behind the older boys like a lost puppy? What would he take you for? The annoying little sister who didn’t have friends of her own? The mood-killer, who wouldn’t understand any of the boys’ inside jokes? The anti-social, weird girl who was obsessed with fictional men, like people loved to belittle teenage girls with normal interests?

As things turned out, his initial opinion of you was quite the opposite. If only you could have spied into his brain, it would have saved you a landslide of worry. Although your brother took up all of H/N’s attention before the movie started, he noticed you a good amount. To be precise, you blew him away at first sight. Your cute laugh won him over in a matter of seconds and he liked that your merch sweater could have been stolen straight out of his own closet. He didn’t want to feel too smug, but the way you diverted your eyes away from him whenever he looked in your direction only boosted his confidence further.

Your brother might have warned him. Stay away from her. She’s off limits for you. But not a thousand vicious, older brothers could have kept him from trying to get to you. It was up to you, after all, whether you wanted him around or not, and not to your brother. From that day on, H/N didn’t skip out on a chance to see you, even if it meant merely an exchange of a few words, or a simple greeting. And to his luck, you turned out to be equally as enraptured by him.

There was something about the untouchable, the forbidden, that attracted him to you even more. Plus, you were simply too precious to forget about. One morning, you dropped off a beanie at his place, which he had left at your house after meeting with your big brother the previous day. When he had asked if he could drive you to school as a thank you, you happily accepted. You had marked that day as the first day of your new life. First, it was harmless flirting. To be honest, you were under the impression he was merely messing with you. Because you were the cute little sister of his best friend. Because you would turn into an awkward shell of a person who had lost all ability to articulate, and your cheeks would burn as if they were on fire, whenever he charmed you.

But the flirting slowly reached newer levels, and before you knew it you were discussing your sexual fantasies over text messages and giving him bedroom eyes as you opened the front door for him. “H/N’s here!” you would then shout to your big brother. Then you would watch the two boys walk off to your brother’s room, pondering why life had to be this way for you. It wasn’t fair. Siblings were supposed to share, right? Why did you have to wait your turn until after midnight, when no one would notice, to spend time with H/N?

But to H/N, the sneaking around in the middle of the night and the secret messages you sent to each other, it all added to the excitement. Surely, there were days on which he wished he could just break the truth to your brother. The impact it could have on their friendship was enough intimidation for him to refrain, though. Things were better off this way, for now.

Today was no exception to your usual lies. When your brother asked if you would go out with him to do some shopping, you had played the victim and feigned a stomachache. Your parents wouldn’t be home all weekend. You’d have been stupid to waste a perfect opportunity like that. Who knew when you could have H/N in your bed the next time? Normally, you were restricted to his car, or to his bed in the dark of night. Yes, those places had something enticing at first glance. But the backseat of a car was only enjoyable for so many clandestine meetings. So today you notified him of your golden opportunity before your brother had even walked out the door.

The moment H/N texted you that he was outside your home, you opened the front door and dragged him to your room.

“Are you in control today, little one?” he asked, closing the bedroom door after you.

“Why are you asking that?” you replied, not wanting to talk at all but rather do so much more productive things.

“I don’t know…perhaps because you haven’t let me say a word since I came through the door,” he said.

“Right. Maybe I’m planning on tying you up, blindfolding you, and torturing you with ice and wax,” you joked in a casual tone, despite not usually requesting such graphic ideas.

“I don’t know if I’d let you do that,” he grinned with raised eyebrows. “Besides, I know you’d rather be at the receiving end of that. It’s a sweet idea, though. If we had some more time…”

“Think you could get away from me if I tied you up?” you said, but he was towering over you with the calmness of a king who knew he reigned over the situation.

“We both know I’m stronger than you, doll,” he said. You didn’t like it when boys called you weak. But you’d let it slide, knowing he was only joking and would never underestimate you outside of the bedroom. He put his lips right up to yours, so you felt his breath on them. His fingers came up to cup your face, but then slowly inched to your neck. When they closed around your neck, putting the slightest amount of pressure on your skin, you whimpered quietly.

“Need reminding?” he asked. As much pent-up frustration you had, and as much as your stomach was flipping upside down from how badly you needed him, you just had to play with him. You knew it would make for more fun.

“I think- “ you started, with a grin. Then you grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pushed him backwards, until he was stumbling. Although caught off guard, he was quick to pull you along with him as he fell onto your bed. You landed on top of him with a small squeal.

“Go on, let’s see who can throw the other off the bed first,” he teased with a superiority that only spurred you on. Then again, you would always be in the mood for the oldest childhood game you had ever known. Only now it wasn’t your brother, but his best friend you were playing against. It added a layer of excitement, and after only seconds, giggles had overtaken you as you struggled in his grip.

“No tickling is allowed,” you said. He nodded obediently with a smirk that told you he might not abide by your rules.

At first, you had attempted to hold him down by his arms. But your legs tangled, and he pushed his chest up against yours, like he was about to flip you over. Your plan seemed to be working only momentarily. You groaned a little as he grabbed your wrists swiftly and held his stance against your attempt to pull his upper body to the side.

“Cute,” he said. That’s when you realized, he was barely struggling, barely trying, even. While you were giving your most, he smirked like he was watching a kitten trying to fight a lion. It was child’s play to him, keeping you in check. Literally. With an annoying expression of amusement on his face, he let you have the upper hand for a while. Then, as if you had never had an ounce of advantage, he turned it around and pulled you into him. His eyes suggested he might just send you tumbling down onto the floor any moment now. Nonetheless, you weren’t going to give up so easily. Taking your chances, you let go of his arms and moved sideways, so you could have your go at pushing him towards the edge of the mattress.

“I don’t think so,” he said. Suddenly, he bear-hugged your body and rolled you both over. Before you could protest or defend yourself, your arm was dangling off the side of your bed and if you had moved a tiny bit further, you would have slid off the bedsheets and right onto your carpet. It was his turn to straddle you now. As if his actions hadn’t been enough declarations of his strength, he pinned your wrists to the bed above your head and gave you a challenging smirk.

“I was going to let you win, doll. But you weren’t trying hard enough,” he said. “What are you going to do about it?”

What were you going to do? He had you completely immobilized. “Just let it go, then. We get it, you’re super strong and super big and the coolest,” you said.

He seemed to take an instant liking to your declaration. “Say it again. This time minus the eye-rolling, sugar.”

“You’re stronger than me,” you said, trying to avoid the laughter that was threatening to come out. Could he read in your gaze how badly you wanted him to kiss you already? If he could, he wasn’t acting on it. Instead, he bent to the crook of your neck and spoke.

“Does it turn you on that I can overpower you?” his breath fanned your ear and you had to close your eyes to control yourself.

“Yes. Because I trust you,” you answered truthfully. The corner of his lips curled into a cocky grin.

“You know what? I think I’d rather you stay in bed with me instead of throwing you on the floor. There’s so many things we can do up here, isn’t that right, little one?” His lips brushed over your cheek and then over your lips as he spoke. The nickname had always made you weak in the knees and he knew it. When he finally enveloped your lips in a kiss, you swore you could feel an electric spark jump between the two of you. The mellowness of it turned into hunger rapidly, and as soon as his tongue flicked over your bottom lip, you whimpered like you hadn’t seen him in a year.

“Needy, are we?” he asked, running his hand up your sides and underneath your shirt. He could say that again. “Let’s get these off, then.”

The seconds in which you pulled off your clothes and couldn’t hang on his lips and feel his skin on your body should have been considered a form of torture in itself. Then, time always went by so much slower than usually.

When you had both shed off your clothes, he climbed back on top of you. Instead of straddling your hips he was now resting between your legs. There was nothing separating you from him, and it was apparent not only through the body heat that radiated off him. He reached down and whilst peppering kisses on your chest, slid his fingers through your slick arousal that was pooling in your core.

“You’re so wet,” he said in surprise, but couldn’t hide his approval and self-confidence in his voice.

“I know,” you said, rolling your eyes but simultaneously fighting the urge to moan at the smallest of touches he was teasing your with. “I’m so horny. Can’t we skip foreplay?”

“Poor doll,” he said. “I should’ve come over earlier, huh?”

“You know that wasn’t possible,” you said. With a desperate look, you pleaded him silently.

“I wanna taste you,” he said, but your put your hand on his cheek softly.

“Maybe later?” you said. “Please, I need to have you inside of me. Now.”

“You’re extra cute when you’re this needy,” he smiled. “Are there still condoms in your nightstand?”

You nodded and had never moved so fast to open a drawer in your life. Pretending to have any patience left, you waited for him to roll on the rubber.

“I love the way you look at me,” he said. “When you’re waiting for me. Could watch you for hours.”

“God, I hope you won’t. Come here, please?” you replied, making him chuckle. He lined himself up with your core, but then made no inclination to move ahead. His dark eyes and little head tilt told you everything.

“Don’t mess with me anymore,” you whined, reaching for the back of his neck to pull him closer. “Do it. H/N.”

“Beg for it.” His words twisted something in the pit of your stomach. Although you were burning with hunger, you could never say no to him. Then again, you were curious to see what would happen if you did.

“What if I don’t? Don’t you want to fuck me as much as I want it?” you challenged him. Something glinted in his eyes, and you knew you shouldn’t have even brought it up.

“I can always do this,” he said, and you followed his eyes down his body and to where he had wrapped his hand around his cock. Slowly, he jerked himself off, and you weren’t sure he was biting his lip because of the feeling or to discompose you. His small sigh should’ve been caused by you. This wasn’t what you had wanted. His tip was right by your slit. He could’ve pushed his length in so easily, and yet he wasn’t. Debating what to say, you kept your eyes trained on his hard member that looked so delicious in his hands. His deep groans rang in your ears. It didn’t take long for you to cave.

“Fuck. That should be me around you,” you said. “That should be my pussy you’re fucking and not your hands. Please.”

“Isn’t that right?” he said.

“Yes. Please, fuck me. I would feel so much better than your hands, and you know it. Please,” you whined. “I need you right now H/N. Please.”

You added another ‘please’ – for good measure – because the way his tongue darted out and licked his smirking lips could make you say anything if it would get him to fuck you.

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of you,” he said. “Think you can take me?”

“Yes, yes-, I can! Please, fuck me,” you said in a waterfall of words, and he chuckled handsomely.

“Good girl,” he said, running a gentle hand over your head. “If it’s too much you let me know.”

“As always.”

The tip of his cock gently pushed into your core, making you hold your breath as he entered you slowly. It caused you to feel every inch with every second. Your brain felt fuzzy, and you sighed gratefully at the relief.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he moaned. The carefulness in his thrusts paired with his moon eyes at you only remained that way for a few seconds. Then, he straightened up and grabbed your hips to drag you in closer. You moaned helplessly when he almost pulled out completely, so slowly it almost made you crazy, only to slam his length into you until his tip brushed against the deepest spot inside of you. It was an action he repeated over and over, until you were reduced to a puddle of desperate whimpers, and you clasped the bedsheets in your hands tightly.

“You like it this way, little one?” he asked. He was apparently finding enjoyment in your reaction. How you could barely keep your eyes open, and when you did, your eyeballs threatened to roll to the back of your head. How your fingers clenched around the closest plushie, and you cradled it against your chest in bliss.

“Yes- fuck,” you said. “Feels so good.”

Of course, right as you said this, he had to change things up. His thrusts turned lazy and messy as he leaned backwards slightly. With an equally lazy demeanor, his thumb flicked over your clit, rubbing circles on it.

“Let me hear you. Say my name,” he said, and you quietly moaned his name. You adored the way it sounded, voiced like this, with barely more than a breath underneath your soft tone. Now and then, his cock slipped out of you, making you clench around nothing and furthermore had you going completely out of your mind. When he would push himself into your opening again, it felt as if it was the first time he was entering you today. Except you felt it repeatedly, each time as incredible as the previous. Your mouth hung open, rendered speechless except for the little moans and whimpers sounding from your throat. There was a familiar knot beginning to form in your stomach, tying firmer with each passing minute.

As if he could read your mind, he decided then he was done with his sweet torture of teasing you to an orgasm. You couldn’t be mad at him, though, because what he had planned was just as perfect, if not better. His hands wandered to their original place on your sides, and he began to snap his hips into yours at a faster pace. A small cry of surprise left your lips, while he only smirked at you through heavy-lidded eyes. Impulsively, you lifted your legs a little, intensifying the feeling of his member roughly dragging through your velvet walls.

“H/N, I’m so close,” you whimpered.

“Me too,” he replied, not slowing down for a second.

His broad frame towering over your body was a sight you would never get enough of and his gazes at you were hot enough that they could have stopped your heart in its tracks. A few strands of hair stuck to his forehead and there was a thin sheet of sweat on his neck. It all just made him more breathtaking to you. The slight pain from his nails digging into the skin on your waist was staggering, and you could barely wait to see the masterpiece of marks he would leave tonight.

You were a moaning mess, flying on cloud nine and simultaneously overwhelmed by his treatment of you. It clouded your mind at took over your whole body like you were made for him to fuck you. His length filled up your tight hole and he did it with such force that your whole body rocked into your mattress in a steady, fast-paced rhythm. He let go of your waist then and supported himself on his arm by the side of your head. When his other hand went to your neck you shuddered in anticipation.

“You should see yourself with my hand around your throat,” he said. “So pretty, little one.”

“We can do it in front of a mirror sometime- ,” you suggested, but were cut off at the end of the sentence as his fingers tightened on your neck. Instantly, the effect of it hit you. The lack of oxygen made your head swim in a sea of pleasure and the unrelenting desire to come. Through fluttering eyelids, you peeked up at him. The way he licked his lips and then clenched his jaw, the gorgeous shape of his collarbones and shoulders – you sometimes wondered if he was even real. Every so often he loosened his grip on you. When he did, you took gulps of air and then instantly whined for him to choke you again.

“Let go for me,” he said. “Show me your pretty face when I make you come. I’m fucking you well, aren’t I?”

You nodded as well as you could when he was gripping your throat and you couldn’t breathe properly at the moment. It didn’t matter you couldn’t talk. He was probably not expecting you to answer, either way. In a pleasure-induced trance, you closed your eyes and let it happen, like he had asked it from you. Your hazy consciousness barely registered that he was reaching his high with you. Too overcome were you, with your thighs trembling uncontrollably and your back arching off the mattress. He had let go of your neck and was riding out his own orgasm with sloppy thrusts that only sent you into another frenzy and had you whimpering his name softly. When he had finished too, he slowed down and pulled you into a gentle kiss, rubbing his nose against yours sweetly.

“That was amazing,” he said, and with a blissful hum you nodded. Your lips changed into a pout when he rolled off you and got up. You were tired of sending him back home so quickly. As he discarded the condom in the bin, you put on your most enchanting eyes, so he would have no other choice.

“Stay a little longer, please,” you asked. You knew he wanted to, as well. So although he was aware that your brother could return at any moment, he tumbled back into bed with you.

“Just for a little while,” he said. “Mhm…you’re so perfect to cuddle, baby.” His embrace was warm and his scent comforting, as he hummed a lovely melody. The soft touch of his fingers running through your hair lulled you right into a light sleep. You were awoken rather abruptly, and with half a heart attack.

“Hey Y/N, have you seen my charger- “ your brother’s voice suddenly broke through the silence and you wondered if you would have to pack up and leave the country after this sort of embarrassment.

“It’s not what it looks like,” you said, knowing well enough it was the dumbest thing you could have said. But who could blame you? You had only woken up two seconds ago.

“Really?” your brother asked. “Because I hear H/N sneak into our house so often lately, I’m starting to wonder if his parents threw him out.”

His tone was surprisingly calm.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you,” H/N said to your brother. “I thought you’d hate me and that we’d be over as friends.”

“I know I told you once to leave Y/N alone. But now…I guess it’s cool. She’s been in a great mood lately, and if that’s thanks to you, I think I can approve of you two. Although I’m not looking forward to being a third wheel, I think I can get used to it if I try hard enough,” your brother said. You couldn’t believe your ears, and involuntarily smiled like a fool. No more hiding. No more secrets.

“I stole your charger. I’m sorry,” you said then, making your brother roll his eyes. “It’s by the sofa in the living room.”

“Great. I needed a reason to leave anyway,” your brother said. “I might approve of you, but this situation is still too awkward. I’ll see you tomorrow, then, H/N?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” the boy in your bed said.

“You’ll see me too!” you added as a joke, as your brother already walked away from the door.

“Unfortunately I will!” your brother shouted, with the unnerving tone only a big brother could possibly muster.

[mediocre-daydreams]

(prologue) wild heart | bucky barnes x reader

a bird in flight

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: hopping from town to town, you’ve been trying to escape the bad luck which haunts you. when you arrive in nyc; suddenly, your curse becomes a curiosity of tony stark, and you are inducted into the avengers. for a small town girl, your first introduction makes a big impact on bucky. literally.

warnings: swearing (there will probably be swearing in every chapter i can’t resist myself)

w/c: 1.5k

rhiannon rings like a bell through the night

and wouldn’t you love to love her?

takes to the sky like a bird in flight

and who will be her lover?

“-and who’s that?” you point out absentmindedly to wanda, who’s delighting in giving you a tour of the new compound.

“oh, him? that’s bucky.” she nudges you with her shoulder as you pass by the gym, taking a few extra seconds to peer through the glass doors at the man dancing gracefully in a sparring match with who you presume to be captain america. captain fucking america, you think. it’s all setting in now. i’m ogling a hundred year old man who just so happens to be the figurehead of a more progressive america work out while getting a tour of the avenger’s compound by who may just be the most powerful woman in the world. what next, am i gonna be besties with tony stark? or start talking to animals?

you could’ve predicted none of this. for the entirety of your life, (up until now, obviously), you hadn’t been remotely associated with the avengers. you had never met one, or become a fan (with the exception of black widow, who you secretly harbored a crush for throughout your late teenage years), or even considered applying to be a SHIELD agent when they began re-releasing training applications. when you first left your childhood home, a small town comprised of farmers, local craftspeople, and sprawling hills, you never saw yourself in a big city. you’d grown up in the opposite. as much as home was beautiful, you’d always been an outcast; “bad luck,” is what people considered you. it wasn’t your fault, or your intention, or even something you’d been consciously aware of, but in a town as small as yours, people began connecting the dots when they realized the only constant between the freak fires, car accidents, injuries, and even missing pets was you. anywhere you went, tragedy struck.

so you left, sick of the blame and accusations for things you were absolutely certain you had no involvement in. you’d hopped towns for almost 6 years before coming to new york, where people went for new beginnings. but the townspeople were correct, weren’t they? there was no way that many accidents could be coincidental. you wouldn’t be able to find a new beginning or escape from your past when the cause of all your struggles (and everyone else’s) had always been you.

“bucky? what kind of name is bucky?” you snorted. maybe that was a little unladylike, but you’d given up on first impressions long ago after realizing everybody would eventually come to the same conclusion about you in the end.

“it’s short for buchanan, which is his middle name. he and steve? they used to be best friends before, well, everything.” wanda waved her hands around as if her nonsensical gestures would fill in the gaps. you got the point. “bucky’s real name is james barnes; you’ve probably heard of him or seen at least seen him in a footnote or something—he was a sergeant in WWII, howling commandos, yada yada,” wanda rambled.

“i… didn’t know that, actually,” you confessed. wanda looked surprised. “i grew up in a small town—i mean really small town—and we didn’t really do that standardized education thing. it was more like trade school, so i’m a little behind on my WWII fun facts, but what i can tell you is how many inches deep you should bury strawberry seeds for maximum growth.”

wanda giggled. “you know, i’ve never met anyone like you. i guess we don’t have a lot of small town folk in the compound, and if so, nothing quite like what your hometown sounds like. it’s… refreshing. and i’ve been begging steve to start a garden with me—he’s got a fantastic eye for color, i think he’d be a great florist—but nobody’s interested. maybe you’ll finally be my big break!”

you smiled. “y’know, i’d love that. if i’m honest, i’m… nervous about all this. i still don’t really understand why or what or how or when,” you waved your arms around just like wanda had a few minutes ago, “this all happened. one minute i’m looking for roommates in canada and now tony stark wants to meet me? i’m-” you sighed. “is it okay if we go up to see him now? i don’t even know if i’ll be staying here, wanda. i really don’t know much about this at all. but i would love to see the rest of the compound after, once i find out what this is all about. and if i’m… staying. god, that’s insane, isn’t it?”

wanda opened her mouth to answer, but instead, her eyes caught sight of something behind you. perhaps a bit too late, you turned and realized the door to the gym was opening with you right in the path of impact. the man with the tousled hair, who you had just learned was bucky, was distracted as he dug through his gym bag for a water bottle, and hadn’t bothered to look up as he reached for the door. you could see captain ameri— no, steve— grab his friend’s arm, but a second too late. the door swung open and you were shoved against the side of the wall as the air was knocked out of you.

“fuck,” you muttered, feeling around your body to make sure you hadn’t splintered into pieces and crumbled into dust at the strength of a super-soldier flinging a door onto you.

“holy- i’m so sorry!” to his credit, bucky was quick to abandon his water bottle search and rushed to your side, grabbing your arms with less force than you’d expected from a man who was just trying to beat up captain america, to inspect for bruises or cuts.

“aha,” you panted, having not quite caught your breath or processed the situation. “yeah, no worries! i’m totally fine. uh, it happens to the best of us?”

bucky looked up at you strangely, and suddenly, you caught the gaze of the most startling blue eyes you’d ever seen. his furrowed brows and the crease between them loosened slightly as you tried giving him a reassuring smile. you put your hand on his shoulder, squeezing as if to silently say, “i promise.” his empty, dazed stare goaded a small laugh out of you. bucky swore your laugh was the most wonderful thing he’d ever heard. it wasn’t like bells—the delicate, silver, christmassy ones that men always seemed to love describing girls’ laughs as. no, your laugh was like the bicycle bell his sister, rebecca, used to ring as she rushed past the neighborhood, delivering newspapers. your laugh was like the church bells he’d fallen asleep to in his old brooklyn apartment, on nights when steve was running a fever and he’d look to the sky and pray to the stars that his best friend would be alright. your laugh was like the ship’s bell that pulled him away from his family during the draft, like a new beginning he wasn’t sure if he really wanted but regardless, had no choice in the matter.

unbeknownst to either of you, wanda and steve were exchanging similarly strange looks. “are you seeing this?” wanda mouthed to steve, who nodded, wide eyed. bucky was never one to accept physical touch, especially not from people who he’d just met. he was even wary of steve’s touch. but he didn’t give any sign of moving or indicate discomfort; he didn’t even flinch.

bucky made no effort to move, captivated by the mysterious, smiling stranger he had just assaulted with a door. there was something about you that made his stomach churn. there was something about you that screamed trouble.

“alright, we should probably get going,” wanda announced, grabbing your hand and tugging you to your feet. whatever silent interaction you’d just exchanged with bucky was broken immediately as you both scrambled to stand. from the new position, you finally saw how much taller the two super soldiers were. just over 6 feet, steve and bucky towered over you and wanda. but unlike steve’s welcoming, sunshiney presence, bucky seemed cold and brooding. you didn’t even want to meet their eyes, a little embarrassed to be looking up at them.

“right, yeah, that’s a good idea.” you turned to wanda instead, hoping you could get away from never interacting with the pair ever again after that mortifying introduction. wanda waved goodbye to the supersoldiers cheerfully as you trudged a few steps behind her. bucky watched as you stepped into the elevator, not even realizing he’d done so. steve elbowed bucky teasingly.

“she’s a real bird, isn’t she?” steve laughed at bucky’s rare display of infatuation. “have you got a crush? wondering what it’s like to love her, huh?”

“i- i don’t love her! i literally just met her.”

“i never said you loved her, buck. just saying it looks like you’d want to.”

“shut up, punk.”

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

lyric explanation:

rhiannon rings like a bell through the night, and wouldn’t you love to love her?

rhiannon draws attention like a bell’s ring through a quiet night, and one cannot help but fall in love.

takes to the sky like a bird in flight, and who will be her lover?

rhiannon was the goddess of birds; thus, she takes off freely of her own will. however, her flightiness and free spirit prevents her from settling down with one lover.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

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[kingpreciouswrld]

Why Would You Do That?

Anon request: can you write reader being the big,bad scary soldier and Natasha is like head over heels for them and one day while the team is bonding Natasha boops their nose and everyone went quiet until reader says “…did you just boop me?do it again”

Pairing: soft!Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: I was about to go to sleep when I got this and I loved it so much that I couldn't sleep without writing it ;-; Being a big person myself (i’m 6’0”), seeing the reader being on the receiving end of something so wholesome is fucking adorable. Thank you so much for the prompt and for requesting!

______

“Y/N! I think that’s enough for today...”

Steve and Natasha stood outside of the boxing ring as they cringed at the scene in front of them.

Sam was in a crumpled heap in the middle of the ring, curled in on himself while you stood above him. Sam had taunted you into training with him and you decided to give him a piece of your mind. Without his wings, he wasn’t as physically strong as others thought he was. The man gave a good fight, you’d give him that, but he told you not to hold back...so you didn’t.

You obviously became the last one standing, literally standing, and you watched as Sam started to crawl his way out of the ring, “Fuck Y/N, you could’ve held back just a little bit.”

“Well you did tell her that she didn’t need to hold back, what did you expect?”

Natasha was with you when Sam started to egg you on. It was a stupid interaction to be honest, but she wouldn’t miss this training session for the world.

To say that the redhead was drooling over you was an understatement. At first glance, you intimidated the whole team and that said a lot. You stood taller than the girls and matched heights with Bruce and a woman of your stature wasn’t easy to ignore. From the moment the team first fought against you, Natasha was impressed with your combat skills. You easily overpowered Clint and herself as well and you did it all with no powers, just physical strength. She knew at the time that you were the enemy but she couldn’t help but to be intrigued by you.

When you joined the team and she got to see your work up close and personal, she was in awe. Your focus, determination, and work ethic made you stand out to the Russian and it was getting harder and harder to ignore your physical appeal, not that she wanted to ignore it. She especially loved to see you train, to see your muscles strain with every punch or to see your sweat drip down your body, and the grunts you make when you end with a hard impact? Jesus Christ.

She got to work closely with you as well as you two were on a lot of missions together. Call it whatever you’d like but she prayed to whatever God that was out there that you’d continue to be mission partners and with the growing closeness came the starting of a friendship.

You two were different but that’s why the friendship worked. You balance each other out and you always put each other in check. Where you would sometimes let your emotions take control of your actions, Natasha would pull you back in and help you think more logically and vice versa. Where you couldn’t cook to save your life, Natasha would offer to make food for the both of you and you’d make it up to her by getting her a Russian candy haul. Every little thing you did for her, she’d fall for you a bit more.

After the brutal training session, if it could be called a training session, Tony had called everyone into a team meeting.

“Alright guys, since we all have a few days of rest, I’m ordering a mandatory team bonding.”

There were collective groans aside from Sam’s and Peter’s excited chattering. You didn’t know what to think. You’ve never experienced team bonding before, hell you never even had a team before, so you really didn’t know what was going to happen but you assumed it’s what the activity was called, bonding with your team.

______

Apparently, Tony’s idea of team bonding was mini golfing followed by an ice cream outing.

It was...interesting.

The Avengers...mini golfing?

It was a tad amusing to see these big guys holding small golf clubs and trying to aim a ball into a little hole. You knew that Vision probably cheated and Clint was cocky before you all started, something about having amazing aim, yet he was in last place.

You appreciated personal connections so overall, you had a really good time. You got to know your teammates more. You bonded a bit with Bruce over radiation studies and Tony over engineering. You talked with Steve about more physical and stamina training and you talked Clint into helping you learn archery. If this is what team bonding was, you hoped you guys would have more outings.

The team finally ended three rounds of mini golf before Tony dragged all of you to an ice cream shop.

Everyone sat down and ate their respective ice creams while they talked about their earlier games.

“I just don’t understand! I’m a master archer! It shouldn’t be that hard to get a ball into a fucking hole!” Clint huffed.

Steve scoffed, “Hey, at least you could properly hold your club. All that hunching made my back hurt, it affected my game! I could’ve beat Vision!”

“Did you just call me short?!”

As everyone laughed at Clint’s expense, Natasha kept her eyes on you the whole time.

You were just so cute eating your ice cream and she could tell that you had a good time with the team because your eyes held more light than before. Although you were closed off around the team, she could tell when you were happy with a putt you made or when you’d be proud of yourself when you got the ball in the hole. Physically, you didn’t give anything away but she knew that you felt like a kid in a candy store.

Within the laughing and bickering, Natasha noticed that you had some ice cream on your nose. The rest of the team noticed but they didn’t dare say anything, they didn’t know how to bring it up, they were too scared to bring it up.

When everyone was paying attention to Sam and Steve’s bickering, Natasha took that moment to turn your face to her. You stared back at the redhead with wide eyes and watched as she wiped your nose off,

“You missed your mouth,” the redhead chuckled.

She couldn’t help herself, you just looked too cute at the moment, and she booped your nose with a little ‘boop’ and a smile and the team fell silent.

Natasha looked away from your stare to look at the team. Everyone was looking at her as if she was crazy, as if she had a death wish, even Vision seemed uncomfortable. She didn’t know what was wrong, it was just a small boop.

Turning back to look at you, you haven’t moved. You just stared at the Russian before your eyes squinted,

“Did...you just ‘boop’ me?”

She was mortified. Natasha didn’t know what she was thinking, she wasn’t thinking at all. She just did it. She couldn’t help it. Were you going to shut down again?

You stared at her a bit more before a small smile played on your lips, “Do it again.”

The team just sat on the side and gawked at what was happening. You could literally crush and break half of the team and Natasha just ‘boop’-ed you, twice now actually, and you weren’t mad. You didn’t push Natasha away, you encouraged it!

And by the looks of it, it seemed like they’d be witnessing more ‘boop’-ing whenever the two of you were together and you couldn’t wait.

As long as you got your ‘boops,’ you’d be tame, content, and happy.

[gaysimpsstuff]

BNHA Characters + Their Biggest Kinks

PT 2 Here

PT 3 Here

Genre: smut, obviously

Warnings: NSFW themes, hard kinks, BDSM kinks, lots and lots and weird kinks

Other: felt horny, wrote this

NSFW Taglist: @smolchildfangirl @combat-wombatus @mandalorian-baby-bird @waffleareniceandfluffy

Characters: Hawks, Bakugou, Dabi, Shigaraki

Keigo Takami/ Hawks-

Authority Kink- mans has spent his entire life being bossed around, he needs you to submit to him completely and without question. Call him ‘sir’ and he’ll melt. When he’s in this mood, there’s no room for brattyness. Just bend over and let sir take his stress out on you.

Wing Kink- Pretty self-explanatory. The underside of a bird’s wings are very sensitive, and get them horny in no time. Same thing with his back, one when you were cuddling, you were playing with his wings and massaging his back, and you noticed he had his face hidden and he was breathing kind of heavily. It was an embarrassing situation to explain...

Breeding- This one comes more into play during Nesting Season, he just has you pinned down and just keeps going and going and going, trying to fill you up with his babies even if you want get pregnant. You’ll always be his little breeding slut. Even better if you have a bird or lizard quirk and you lay eggs (infertile usually). Even with a male reader he’d want to ‘breed.’

Pegging- He likes to bottom sometimes, so that he can whine and cry and beg and be a good boy for his y/n. Expect him to come home from work feeling more tired than stressed. Total pillow princess. He needs you to fuck him into the mattress so hard that he’s only flying tomorrow.

Praise/body Worship- This goes both ways. You’re his everything, and he wants to make sure you’re aware of how much he appreciates you, but he’s so insecurities that he needs it in return. Soft, teasing touches, whispered I love yous, doing so wells, my pretty baby, go a long way for this man.

Dirty Talk- he wants you to know just what he’s going to do to you, how he’s going to fill you up so good, make you need him and his cock, make you cry for him to keep going, beg for his cum. Even when he’s on bottom, he’s babbling and whining. You can’t get this man to shut the fuck up. It can get annoying at times.

Bath/shower sex- this plays more into his bird instincts. Bathing/ cleaning oneself usually gets birds horny. They usually preen prior to mating season so look out for that. There’s just something about ducking you in his bathtub (jacuzzi) that gets him going like nothing else.

Katsuki Bakugou/ Dynamight-

Switch- this man will present as a top, but he has absolutely nothing against getting manhandled and having the life fucked out of him. Just so long as he can do the same to you. Fuck him rough and good and then take his revenge tomorrow.

Rigger- after all he’s been through, he does not wanna be tied up at all. But he has no problem with handcuffing you or wrapping your pretty body up in Shibari and watching you struggle against them. Will totally tease you the whole time.

Gags- You’re still talking? You need to shut the fuck up. Or else you’ve got something keeping your mouth shut. Tape, underwear in mouth, his hand or fingers, or an actual gag. Loves your muffled sounds when he asks you a question. “Want me to keep going? You gotta say so. Aw I didn’t hear anything so I guess you want me to stop...”

Dirty Talk- Just like Hawks, he can’t keep his mouth shut. But this one is spilling the dirtiest filth you’ll ever hear. Plays into a minor corruption kink. Wants you to repeat it all back to him. On the flip side, gets so flustered when you talk dirty to him. Whining about how you’re a pervert, but just ignore him, he’s hard as shit right now.

Dacryphilia- All those years of Deku crying and you think he wouldn’t have a crying kink? Thinks your tears are so beautiful, might even lick them off your face. “Aww, look at you~ crying for my fuckin cock.” Don’t be weirded out if he licks them off your face. He also cries during sex, though. It’s just too fucking good and he hasn’t had a good cry in a while. Tease him about it and he’ll hide his face, but praise him for it and he’ll cry even harder.

Praise- This man shouts enough degradations outside the bedroom, he wants sex to be different from everything else. Gets a little embarrassed first time he praises you, but if you look at him with those shy eyes and a quivering lip, he’s just gonna keep loading it on. He also wants to be praised, both out of insecurities and superiority. When he’s bottoming just repeat how amazing he’s doing, how no one else is as pretty as him. When he’s on top, he still needs you to be praising him. Tell him how good his cock feels, how he’s gonna make you cum, how no one else fucks you as good as him.

Impact Play- mostly spanking. Uses his quirk. He loves it when your skin forms a light burn in the shape of his hand. Spanks you even if his handprints don’t show up on your skin. He needs it to, just keep smacking his stomach and thighs with a paddle until he’s sobbing.

Touya Todoroki/ Dabi-

Degradation/ Brat Taming- Starting off with the roughness with this guy. These two go hand in hand for Dabi, you need to know where you belong. Underneath him, begging and crying for his cock, his mercy, anything. You need to understand your only purpose is to service him, moan for him, and be his little personal cumdump.

Hard Dom- he won’t go easy on you, no matter what, you’re not getting it sweet or easy. It’s always going to be rough, fast, and difficult. Just try and complain.

Size kink- We all know this man is hung like a donkey, too big to handle. Loves it when you’re trying to suck him off and can’t even get down halfway. Even better when he’s pushing in, and can’t get further than six inches in. Just laughs at how “your cute little hole can’t take my fat cock can it, baby?”

Sadism- Pretty obvious, he likes hurting you. Knives? He’s got plenty. Fire? More relunctant but sure. Impact play? Yes sir. Loves seeing you cry and you babble about how much it hurts. His favorite thing is to write his name on your back with light burns that usually fade in a week or so. Always takes care of your injuries afterwords.

Bondage- Can’t have his little baby trying to touch themself can he? Can’t have his darling trying to escape from him, can he? No no, you’re better off tied to the bed, taking everything he gives you like a good little slut.

Sensory Deprivation- He wants you waiting, dreading maybe, anticipating, his next moves. You don’t know where he’ll touch you, what he’s saying, and you can’t do anything to stop it.

Corruption- He has a thing for people who seem innocent, and he wants to corrupt that innocence. To everyone else, you’re naive, doe-eyed, and probably can’t do anything for yourself. He’s going to change all of that. Bonus points if you’re actually fully capable and he morphs into a co-dependant mess. This man is all Yandere nothing else.

Teasing/ edging- Loves working you up to the grand finale, then pushing you back to the first scene. You’ll never forget his laughter as you beg him for your orgasms. You’ll be lucky if he lets you cum at all. He’ll humiliate the fuck out of you for your pitiful begging.

Tomura Shigaraki/ Symbol of Terror

Mommy/Daddy/Renny (Renny is the gender neutral term for Mommy/Daddy)- This man will call you whatever you want, but this is his go-to nickname for you. You’re taking care of him in and out of the bedroom, at least until he matures.

Switch- Up until he matures, your on top of him the whole time. Loves it when you’re in control, but after certain events in the manga and anime, he starts to gain an apprentice for being on top, although being so unused to it, he has a lot less kinks for being on top than on bottom.

Pegging- self-explanatory. He was always afraid of disintegrating his dick, and anal stimulation meant most of his fingers were pointed away from his body while only two or three were touching his skin. Safer. Now he’s got a huge appreciation for anal play, anytime you see him naked, he probably has a butt plug in.

Pet-Play- he’s your dumb little puppy, okay? Treat him like a bitchy little animal and he’ll do whatever you want. Feel free and drag him around on a leash or feed him food out of a bowl on the ground.

Feet- he doesn’t know why, but your feet are such a fucking turn on. Whether you’re wearing combat boots with spikes, fancy heels with a flower on them, or normal tennis shoes. Socks, thigh-highs and tights? Man is already begging. Just step on him and give him a foot job already! He’s begging, come on!

Water sports- kind of gross, skip this one if it’s gross for you (it is for me but for some reason I’m writing about it) but it’s something he appreciates more as a top than a bottom. Controlling when you go to the bathroom, giving you so many drinks, watching you squirm, begging and crying for him to let you relieve yourself, only to piss yourself. And when you do that, he’s on his knees in front of you, drinking it. Loves how embarrassed you get. Says “anything you make is always gonna be the best” while licking his lips.

CNC- something he enjoys as a top or a bottom. Skip this one if it’s weird or wrong to you, or a trigger. Always pre-planned with a safe word and everything, but he always pretends it’s real. Something about you or him not having a choice, being forced to take whatever the other gives them, begging for it all to stop but being betrayed by your body, it all just drives him crazy.

S&M- Doesnt care of he’s the S or M. He just loves pain. Crying when you spank or slap him, watching you scream as he cuts his name onto you.

[anaveragebibliophile]

He Comes First

Thranduil x Wife!reader x Young!Legolas 

Summary: After finding out some exciting news about your and Thranduil’s future as parents, you begin reminiscing on the all the joys and wonders that this life has given you (especially getting to see your husband excel at fatherhood). 

PART 1 

PART 2: 

https://anaveragebibliophile.tumblr.com/post/659269636241637376/cyclical-love

“Are you one-hundred percent certain, Morwen? I know you are an expert at discerning such things, but I cannot help but still feel the uncertainty reverberating through me,” you said, hands gripping your kneecaps as you awaited the healer’s response. 

“Yes, my queen. All of the signs are there: the nausea, the subsequent morning sickness, the exhaustion. I am positive that I am correct in my diagnosis.” 

“Oh, by the Valar (God),” you responded, your right hand drifting to hold your stomach protectively. “I am with child. Thranduil and I will be welcoming another elfing next fall.” 

“Yes, Queen (y/n). When the leaves begin to fall, you will be holding another blessing in your arms.” 

Walking back to your and Thran’s chambers provided ample time for rumination on this news (because the healer’s quarters were on the other side of the palace). Now, that’s not to say this contemplation was meant to curb any sentiments of regret, resentment, or anger. Not at all. In reality, you couldn’t stop a huge smile from framing your face. You couldn’t help but embrace the elation that was filling every facet of your heart, soul, and mind. Oh, this was a dream come true. 

Obviously, the topic of having another child had been discussed between you and your husband many times (usually on fireside date night with goblets of wine and lots of cuddling). And the funny thing was that the prospect had cemented itself more securely over the last few months. Having and caring for another child no longer appeared to be this unattainable desire, but, instead, it filled you and Thran with this rapture, this thrill. And why wouldn’t it really? Legolas was everything you both could have hoped for, so why not try for that relentless feeling of contentment one more time? You’d have to be asinine not to. 

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“Ada, Ada are you awake?” Legolas’ melodic voice asked, breaking through the tranquil haze you’d encompassed yourself in. 

“There is no need to fret, my little leaf. Ada is just resting his eyes. He is tired,” your husband’s deep baritone responded. 

“Of course, Ada, but that is not why I was asking. Would it be alright if I laid on your chest?” 

“You already know the answer to that, Legolas. Climb on up, iôn nîn (my son).” 

And climb on up he did, at least from what you saw through the little crack in the door. Once your little elfling’s voice alerted you to the fact that your two favorite people in all of Middle Earth were in your chambers, your immediate instinct was to rush and join in on the cuddle session that was so obviously taking place. Yet, somehow, right as you put your hand on the doorknob, it was as if your feet were tethered to the floor. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t speak. All because you turned your head. All because of what you were bearing witness to. 

Legolas was sprawled starfish-like on his father’s chest, his little face turned into the right side of Thranduil’s neck. You could see the red, depressed sleep lines marring his face from his morning nap (where he and the pillow became great comrades). And even though that was such an adorable sight, what you saw your husband doing made joy spread through your entire heart in such a way that you thought it might implode on you. 

Sometimes your little leaf struggled to fall asleep at night. Whether it be because of a nightmare or a fear of separation from his parents no one could truly say. His insomnia was variable at best and inevitable at worst. However, regardless of the circumstances, your and Thran’s mission was to get your son some relief, no matter the cost. And you tried everything you could think of: lullabies, rocking, warm milk, literally anything that the rule book on parenting tells you to attempt, but nothing would make any impact. That is, until your husband changed the game. 

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One night in mid-winter, Legolas’ inability to sleep had reached its peak. He hadn’t been feeling well for most of the day--spending most of it snuggled with you in the sitting room or with Thranduil in his office--and by the end of the night had been sporting a pretty nasty fever. He was miserable, plain and simple. You had hoped that the illness would’ve given him the opportunity to give in to his fatigue, to barricade himself in a dream-like state. Wrong. Instead, the infection chose to create a pain in his ear that wouldn’t abate by any means. No question, it made him absolutely hysterical. 

Despite this, though, he was most at peace with your husband, the man who spent most of that day with his lips pressed in a thin, white line and his stomach in knots. All he hoped for was his son to be improving, but it didn’t seem like Valar (God) was in the mood to grant that wish. So, he did what he was best at: finding a way to take control of the situation. In this case, the problem was Legolas’ discomfort. The little guy was trying to sleep--on his side, his back, in Thran’s arms, in whatever position his brain could conjure up--but would then proceed to hold his left ear and whimper. Anything he did would cause pain to shoot through him.  

“Alright, little leaf,” Thranduil said while rocking his son in his arms for the tenth time that day, “how about we try having you rest on my chest. You might sleep better that way.” And all he got was an almost imperceptible nod from the elfling that was clenching his hand so tight. 

Moving over to the bed, he slowly settled himself in the center, making sure not to jostle his son too much. Quietly humming to Legolas, he carefully moved his right hand up and down his spinal column and left lingering kisses on his forehead. 

“There we go, iôn nîn (my son),” he said. “Hopefully this helps. Gi melin (I love you).”

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“Darling, you can come in, you know. This is your space too,” your husband’s voice articulated, a hint of mockery and teasing in his tone (all in good fun). 

Opening the door all the way, you smiled at the treasures that laid before you. One curled into his father’s chest like an armadillo. The other grinning like a fool at said armadillo. 

“My apologies, sweetheart. Once I got here, I couldn’t refrain from letting you have that special one-on-one time with him.” 

Your husband’s right cheekbone lifted up to create an off-centered smile of sorts. “How was your appointment with Morwen? Was she able to give you some herbs to aid your sickness?”

“Yes, she was. But that is not the only thing she mentioned to me. About why I am ill anyway.” 

“What else is wrong? Whatever it is, it is treatable, yes?” Thranduil queried, his voice getting higher by at least three octaves. 

“Yes, honey. It is treatable. I’ll only have to wait about six more months.”

At that, your husband paused, concentration taking over his features. You felt his brain’s agony at the mere thought of analyzing the riddle and attempting to figure it out. Every mechanism was moving to decipher the answer. 

And then it all clicked. 

“If what you say is true, then that means we are….” 

TBC 

[songmingisthighs]

[9.55] mafia!wooyoung × reader

⇀ good thing you're smart, if not Wooyoung wouldn't have a whole attitude change

⇁ tw : violence, torture, kindapping, mafia life

⇁ part 1 / 2 / 3

⇁ disclaimer : the author does not support any and all criminal/illegal acts. the narrative written in this story is purely fiction out of the author's imagination. the things written here does not portray real mafia life nor is the author aware of how the mafia life is like. the author is a hermit loser.

You don't remember how long it has been since they captured you. Being stuck in a basement would do that apparently.

Whoever was behind your capture had been torturing you beyond your own imagination. They had starved you, hit you, kicked you, attempted to drown you, tied you in an uncomfortable position every night, and sent in someone to make sure you don't get an ounce of sleep.

All that just to get information on Wooyoung.

Currently, you're being tied to a chair, being once again interrogated for informations you had no clue about, "things would be much easier if you'd just give us what we want," the buff man in front of you said, he held a knife to your cheek but at this point you couldn't even flinch, "where is Jung Wooyoung's headquarters?"

Your cold outfit was clinging onto you like second skin, it's uncomfortable and it's dirty, the cold had definitely impacted your health.

Recently all you've been able to feel is just the headache and the burn from inside your body. Not even the abuse given to you was able to inflict you pain.

Everything's just numb.

You look up at the man, almost with a challenging look as you press your face daringly to the blade, "I. Don't. Know." you spat each word like venom.

The man laughed, pretty amused at how daring you are being, "you're his wife, there is no way you wouldn't have known," you rolled your eyes at him, bitter that he used the word 'wife' because you know fully well that Wooyoung would never treat you as such, "then I must've not been his wife now, am I?" You retorted back at him, slightly shocking him because this is the first time within the (apparently) 7 days you've been captured that you had said something else other than 'I don't know' or 'fuck you'.

Everyone was startled at the revelation, they probably hadn't concidered that you might not be Wooyoung's wife. No one really know about Wooyoung's personal life, it seems.

Seeing their hesitance, you take this as your chance of escaping.

The buff man grab your hair harshly, his eyes narrowing at you in suspicion, "don't lie to me, whore, if you're not his wife, then why'd you have a wedding ring on?" "Stole it from my mistress before I ran away, needed the money," you lied easily, surprising yourself.

"And why are you wearing it?" He asked again, "to make it less inconspicuous, people need to believe that this belongs to me or else they'll alert the cops that I'm a thief,"

He seemed to be having an inner turmoil on whether or not he should believe you.

With how you've been acting and the lack of evidence that you are Wooyoung's wife, you could really have been the wrong target.

"That means Handong lied to us," he said as he push your head away, talking to one of the men next to him, "bring him in and get this bitch out," he said simply before turning back to leave.

But before he walked out of the room, he looked back once more at you with a bitter smirk, "make sure to... deal... with her first, insurance for your silence,"

When the doors closed, 5 men approach your figure, still tied on the chair.

One of them crouch down in front of you, he brush your hair out of your face with a sad smile, "I'm sorry that we have to do this, pretty girl," confused at what he said, you just stared at him. But then he suddenly slap you so hard that you fell down along with the chair you're tied to.

And thus began one of the longest night of your life.

Meanwhile Wooyoung was getting antsy. His men couldn't find you anywhere and there isn't a second when he didn't regret turning his abundance of cctv off

He spent his days either in meetings or trying to track your whereabouts. San had to step in and actually force him to eat, going as far as cuffing him to his chair and spoon-fed him, even throwing a cheesy "would (Y/N) be happy to see you in this state?" At him to which he replied, "considering how I treat her, I wouldn't be surprised if she is,"

So far, neither yours nor his parents were aware of your disappearance. His dad only asked about you once to ensure he still has leverage, which of course Wooyoung lied, he's already stressed over your disappearance the last thing he need is for his dad to bit his head off.

Each night he spent sleeping in his bedroom, moping to the fact that he genuinely misses and worried about you. He regret taking you for granted, taking your presence for granted. Now, he could only imagine your sleeping form next to him using the memories of when he actually slept in bed with you. He used to be able to feel your warmth next to him, now it's just cold and he dislike it.

Tonight was no different. Before he got into bed, he went to the walk-in closet and look at all the dresses he had brought you to events that you went to (re : events he was forced brought you because his parents would be there). He remembered every how you looked in every single one of them.

It's pathetic of him, to be pining over the woman he claimed to have no care about.

Just as he turned the walk-in closet's lights off, there were commotions from downstairs, then a huge bang like his front doors had been barged open.

Diving into his instincts, Wooyoung grabbed the nearest gun he had hid all around the room and ran out, thinking that it was a raid by his rivals.

But when he looked down from the second floor to the living room, his heart wrenched and he froze.

San had you in his arms, you looked sickly pale with bruises all over your exposed arms and legs, clothes had chunks of them torn, and you weren't moving. One would assume that you're dead.

Wooyoung dropped his gun and ran to his friend who had just put you on the couch.

The sight of you looking so broken panicked him. He wanted to hold you and be glad that you're home, but he doesn't wanna hurt you. He wanted to tell you how sorry he is and that he'll make up to you but he's not sure whether or not you're still alive.

He snapped his head towards his staff, "call the doctor! Call Kang Yeosang in!" He barked to which his staffs immediately obeyed, scrambling to do as he ordered.

"God, baby, who did this to you?" He muttered to himself, reaching forward to brush your hair out of your face.

You stirred a bit when you heard his voice ans managed to open your eyes despite the splitting headache and the soreness all over your body.

When your eyes met his, you smiled, "hey, what are you doing in my dreams?" You croaked out, throat obviously sore and beyond parched from having been denied fluids for so long. It was your turn to brush his bangs from his eyes, something you've always wanted to do but know never could considering his dislike that turned out to be hatred towards you.

You suddenly frown at him, making his gaze on you softer, "I'm sorry," you muttered, not able to speak louder. At that, he tilted his head, "for what?" "Not being able to stay gone, I had to had the will to live, I should've let them kill me," you said before you slip into unconsciousness, rendering Wooyoung speechless at your words.

Before he was able to retaliate, San had swoop you back into his arms to take you to an empty room so Yeosang could come in and treat you.

"No," Wooyoung called, stopping San in his tracks, "bring her to my- our room, she should feel comfortable," to which San just nodded and obey, knowing how important it is to have you next to him as much as him next to you.

Yeosang came in not long after and spent 3 hours cleaning and stitching your wounds, checking for possible internal injuries, all the while making sure he's handling you with the utmost care as Wooyoung had been glaring daggers at him. Whether it serve to be a warning to not harm you or a sign of jealousy as Yeosang had a perfectly valid reason to cut your shirt and shorts off for handling.

"I can't make a clear diagnosis without checking for internal injuries, we have to take her to the hospital," Yeosang said. But Wooyoung just snap at him, "then freaking bring the machines here! She's not leaving this mansion and she's not leaving my side!"

Both men just stared at each other for a few minutes, Yeosang holding onto his ground on wanting simplicity, and Wooyoung being afraid of losing you from his sight again.

Knowing how stubborn his friend can be, Yeosang was first to crack, sighing and nodding at Wooyoung, "I'll see what I can do," he said simply before going out to talk to San about possibly transporting some of his machines.

The rest of the night, Wooyoung took care of you. He had put you in one of his large, white button up because it's the easiest to put on you. He stayed by your side in a chair, afraid that he might hurt you (than he already necessary does with his words) if he were to slip in bed with you.

As he watch you, his hands moved to held yours in his. His thumbs were rubbing the back of your hand when it suddenly caught on something.

Looking down, he noticed that it's your wedding ring, matching his own which he's wearing.

It brought a smile to his face seeing you're still holding onto it so dearly. You could've left it for him to find and throw away the day you left, but you had decided to take it with you.

Could it be that despite everything he's done to you, you don't want to completely erase him from your mind?

And that's what made Wooyoung broke down and cried.

He didn't deserve you, not one bit. But despite that, he knows that he's the only one capable enough of taking care of you, to provide for whatever it is that you need.

So at that moment, with you back in hia arms, he decided to step up and assume his responsibilities and treat you as how you deserve to be treated.

[seok-jinnies]

so close to perfect | jjk

jeon jungkook x reader

angst with a happy ending, idol!au, established relationship ; wc : 1480 words

rating: pg13

warnings: swearing, mentions of insecurities, jungkook is a bit of a dick here i'm sorry lol

note: this fic was inspired by this song! it's been collecting dust in my drafts for so long and then i realized that i haven't posted anything in months so....... hope you guys enjoy!

jeongguk has always been your constant, and even with what seems to be the whole world against the two of you, you can't bring yourself to let him go.

Sighing, you take a sip from your tea. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Jeongguk blinks. “What?”

“I said,” you repeat slowly, “you’re a fucking idiot. I know what I got into. You don’t get to make decisions for me.”

“I’m not making decisions for you, (Y/N).” He scoffs, leaning back on his chair. “I’m telling you that this isn’t working out between us. We need to break up.”

For a few moments, you say nothing. The sounds of the cafe downstairs fill the silence between the two of you and you idly wonder if he’ll gain some sense the longer that you stare at him. You raise an eyebrow.

“You literally told me that you wanted to start a family with me yesterday,” you deadpan. “People don’t change that quickly, especially not you.”

“Then you obviously don’t know me well enough!” He fires back, leaning forward as he grips the edge of your table. His jaw clenches, and in another time, maybe you would have found it attractive. Now, however, it only fuels your irritation further.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you consider actually slapping some sense into that stupid, big head of his. “Jeongguk, I’ve known you for ten years,” you remind him calmly. “I know you better than I know myself, which is why I know that you’re an awful liar and that every sentence you’ve uttered in the past ten minutes has been pulled straight out of your ass.”

You can practically see the gears turning in his head. It was clear that this strategy wasn’t working out, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that it was time for him to switch tactics.

When his gaze grows harder, colder, you already know that the next thing that comes out of his mouth will tear your heart to shreds. Still, you tilt your chin upwards, meeting his gaze head-on.

“(Y/F/N),” he says quietly, voice so dangerously low. You brace yourself for the impact. “How do I make you understand that the past three years have been nothing but a waste of my time?”

Bull’s-fucking-eye.

He takes your frozen state as a sign to continue. “The past three years have just been one big trainwreck. You’ve done nothing but hold me back in every aspect of my life. You have been nothing but selfish and it shows even now,” he scoffs. “You refuse to listen to me when I tell you something. It’s always your way or the highway, isn’t it?”

You’re stunned into silence. So this was the path he was going to take, huh? Somewhere, underneath the wave of hurt that washes over you is a thought: textbook. This is a textbook manifestation of your worst fears, your deepest insecurities. He knows you better than you know yourself; knowing exactly which buttons to press to hurt you the most. He’s cutting into your very soul with surgeon-like precision. The wounded, angry part of you wants to take the bait, to rip him apart but you don’t have it in you to tear into him just as he had done with you.

So you say nothing, merely tilting your head to the side. Slowly, you bring your cup to your lips, sipping quietly before setting it down once more. His eyes are still dark, filled with barely repressed rage.

“You’re always fucking clinging to me too!” He spits out. “You act like you’re so high and mighty but then you act like a fucking child whenever you don’t get what you want. Grow the fuck up,” he laughs humorlessly. “Loving you is the biggest mistake of my life. I wish I never fucking met you.”

At that statement, you can’t even hold back a wince. If you weren’t watching him so closely, you would not have noticed the way his eyes widen infinitesimally, fingers twitching as if he wanted to reach out for you. He bites his lip and for a second he looks like the Jeongguk that you know and love. That’s all it takes for you to strengthen your resolve once more, to force your tears back, and to face this head-on as if he hadn’t hit you where it hurt the most.

“Is that all you’ve got?” You say coolly as if your heart didn’t ache at his words. “Let it all out, love; I’ve got all day.”

His facade begins to crumble. “Why aren’t you mad at me?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you want me to be mad at you?”

He visibly deflates in front of you. Shaking his head, he looks at the coffee table, fingers tracing the scratches on the surface.

“Just break up with me,” he whispers pitifully. “It’s the best thing you can do.”

You hum softly. “Do you want to break up with me because of the reasons that you listed earlier? Or…”

“Or?”

“Does this have something to do with the conversation you had with your manager this morning?”

His head shoots up, eyes widening comically. “How do you know that?”

“I have my ways,” you shrug. “That, and the fact that Yoongi overheard the two of you and gave me a heads up.”

“How did he even overhear us?”

You only shrug once more. Yoongi was, well, Yoongi. He was a man of many (slightly concerning) talents.

“If you’re worried about me receiving hate,” you start, pulling his hand into your grasp, “then you have nothing to worry about. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

He scoffs quietly but there’s no real malice behind it. “People are cruel when they want to be. I’ve been on the receiving end of that, (Y/N). I never want you to know what that feels like.”

“So you were just going to take the easy way out?”

He blanches. “No, I… I just wanted to protect you…”

A sad grin creeps up your face. “And look where that got us.”

Letting go of his hand, you take another sip of your tea, almost spitting it out when you look at Jeongguk and realize he has actual tears in his eyes. “Guk?” You say worriedly, hand reaching out to cup his cheek. He leans into your touch and closes his eyes, eyebrows still adorably scrunched in that way it always did whenever he was close to tears.

When he opens his eyes again, you smile.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” he says hoarsely. “I don’t think you’re selfish or immature or clingy. Loving you, meeting you has been the best thing to happen to my life and⁠, and I⁠—” He swallows thickly, a single tear rolling down his cheek. You’re quick to wipe it off even as you feel your own eyes well up with tears.

“I love you,” he admits. “I look at you and my heart feels so full and you make me so happy and I just, I love you so much⁠—” he sobs, dragging his seat closer to you so he could hold you close. You stiffen when he buries his face in the crook of your neck, only relaxing when you’re sure that no one else is on this floor of the cafe. Your arms wrap around his hunched form, letting him cry freely.

“I’m so sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean any of it I swear,” he blubbers, nose all red and runny. It’s almost adorable how he looks at you so earnestly with tears in his eyes. “You’re my everything, (Y/N), I mean it.”

He pulls away from you with a sudden urgency, hands cupping your face gently as he looks into your eyes deeply. “You don’t hold me back. You make me a better person every single day. I’m an idiot who should have talked to you about this first before forcing you to break up with me.”

“You are an idiot,” you agree. He snorts at how quickly you agree, but all you can think of at the moment is how easily he puts your heart at ease despite being the very person to have ripped it apart moments earlier.

“Don’t get me wrong, we’re going to talk about this in detail but this isn’t a discussion we should be having in a public place.” You rise from your seat, patting his cheek gently. “Let’s go home?”

He nods happily, giving you that smile⁠—that soft smile of his that makes you forget about everything else, the one that tells you he loves you more than anything in the world. “Let’s go home.”

The two of you still had so many things to talk about, so many things to unpack from today’s events. It almost seems daunting now that you think about it as the two of you walk home with your hand in his, but as long as you had him… then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[robininthelabyrinth]

For your prompts: Mingjue is ace or demi, and somehow between taking over the sect at a very young age and never displaying interest in it, no one ever gave him The Sex Talk. All the aunts and uncles assumed someone else took care of it. Then Huaisang gets to that age. He seems to be very interested in sex. He needs The Sex Talk. Mingjue feels like that should come from him (he's taken care of all the rest pf raising him after all), but he doesn't have the info to do that.

How does Mingjue give him The Sex Talk? Or alternatively, does Huaisang end up already knowing and giving The Talk to his big brother instead?

ao3

“All right,” Nie Mingjue said, sitting down and gesturing for Nie Huaisang to sit down across from him. “I guess we’re going to have to talk about this.”

“I knew this day would come,” Nie Huaisang said, looking unbearably tragic. “I’m going to die of embarrassment before the day is through, da-ge. Won’t you have pity?”

Nie Mingjue knew him too well, though.

“Okay,” he said.

Nie Huaisang frowned at him.

“If it’s too embarrassing to talk about sex, you’re not ready to talk about sex,” Nie Mingjue said with a casual shrug. “We can postpone the conversation to –”

“No! I want to hear about it!” Nie Huaisang scowled at him. “Da-ge, everyone else got the sex talk! You wouldn’t want me to fall behind, would you?”

Nie Mingjue blinked innocently at him. “But Huaisang, you said…”

“Never mind what I said!”

Nie Mingjue tried to maintain his façade of innocent neutrality but quickly cracked in the face of Nie Huaisang’s exasperation; he started laughing.

Nie Huaisang grumbled.

“There’s not much to say,” Nie Mingjue said, wiping his eyes. “And it’s not as if you can’t get by without it, you know. I mean, no one ever gave me the talk.”

Nie Huaisang frowned. “No one? What about A-die? I mean, before…”

“He was busy, and kept postponing it,” Nie Mingjue said, shrugging. “And then he died, and everyone assumed he’d done it already. It’s fine. Everything I needed to learn, I learned from books, and you’re going to do the same.”

“…books.”

“Yep, books.”

Nie Huaisang heaved a sigh. “You’re going to make me learn this incredibly important subject from textbooks? Really, da-ge?”

“I am,” Nie Mingjue said.

“You’re robbing me of a valuable life experience here.”

“I’m so sad for you,” Nie Mingjue said dryly, pulling out a box and spreading out the books he’d obtained just for this purpose. “Now, I know you hate studying, I know you think it’s boring and a waste of time, but I really think in this instance –”

“It’s fine,” Nie Huaisang said quickly. His eyes were fixated on the books in front of him, and for some reason he’d flushed bright red, even though it wasn’t all that hot in the room. “I don’t mind. I’ll study hard, da-ge.”

“I feel like I’ve heard that before once or twice,” Nie Mingjue remarked, then shook his head. “Anyway, I think just one or two –”

“I need all of them.”

Nie Mingjue blinked, sincerely this time. “All of them?” he said, and looked down at the books. “Huaisang, I don’t think you understand. I got a selection so that you could have your pick, but they’re by and large very repetitive; each one more or less describes the same basic acts –”

“I need all of them. For reasons.”

“…all right,” Nie Mingjue said, bemused but generally pleased by Nie Huaisang’s highly unusual enthusiasm for study. “I thought I was robbing you of a valuable life experience?”

“That was before! I didn’t realize the books were going to be spring books,” Nie Huaisang said. He’d grabbed one and flipped it open, staring wide-eyed at one of the illustrations.

“What type of textbook would there be for this subject other than a spring book?” Nie Mingjue asked, wondering – as ever – if he’d missed something. Raising children was hard, and raising Nie Huaisang was harder; everyone agreed. “Anyway, I’m given to understand that the art is a bit exaggerated, especially in terms of proportion, and the accompanying text can use some rather strange metaphors, but fundamentally the acts described appear generally consistent throughout the various sources. For example, if you look at this one, you can see that the woman has –”

“Yes, da-ge, I can see.”

“I’m just pointing it out,” Nie Mingjue said defensively. Nie Huaisang was being especially impossible to understand today. “Anyway, it’s all a bit weird, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Nie Huaisang said. “Very weird. Incredibly weird. You know what, I think I need to think about this privately for a while.”

“I…are you sure?”

“Very sure.”

“If you insist.” Nie Mingjue stood up. “If you have any questions –”

“Yes I’ll be sure to ask you please leave now thank you good-bye.”

Nie Mingjue found himself outside the door to Nie Huaisang’s room, not entirely sure how his much smaller younger brother had managed to push him out so effectively. Maybe some of that saber training was actually having an impact, however spaced out and half-hearted Nie Huaisang’s efforts were.

Cheered by the thought, Nie Mingjue headed back to his office, feeling very good about himself: that wasn’t nearly as awkward as all the other people had made it sound. It’d been no problem at all!

Of course, a few months later, he found out that Nie Huaisang had started buying up spring books like he’d developed a mania for it.

“That seems fine,” he said to the disciple who’d reported it. “I mean, it’s a bit strange, yes, but he’s always been fond of hobbies that involve collecting things. Birds, weird rocks…that sort of thing.”

“I’m not sure it’s…exactly the same,” the disciple said carefully. “But if you’re not concerned, Sect Leader, we’ll just leave it be.”

“…I’ll talk with him,” Nie Mingjue decided, mostly because of the weird expression on the disciple’s face, and the disciple looked relieved.

Later that evening, he followed up on his word.

“Huaisang, I heard you’re buying spring books,” he said, and Nie Huaisang nearly choked on his soup.

“You can’t just bring that up over dinner!” he hissed.

“…why not?”

“You just – can’t!”

“I can, and did,” Nie Mingjue said. “Some of the disciples have expressed some concern about it.”

Nie Huaisang’s shoulders went up by his ears defensively. “Is it because I’m buying cutsleeve books as well as regular books?”

“They sell cutsleeve books? Really?” Nie Mingjue said blankly, temporarily distracted. “I wouldn’t have thought there’d be enough of a market to make the printing worthwhile. Aren't they supposed to be relatively uncommon? …anyway, no, it’s not about that.”

“…you don’t mind?”

“Why would I mind?” Nie Mingjue said, puzzled. “I’m glad you’re expanding your horizons.”

“You…are?” Nie Huaisang was blinking rapidly.

“I mean, you’re reading? Reading is good. I’m always happy when you advance your scholarly pursuits,” Nie Mingjue said. “I mean, I’d still like it if you spent a bit more time on your saber…”

“Wait,” Nie Huaisang said hastily, clearly wanting to avoid the subject of his saber training. “If you don’t mind the fact that I’m buying them, or the content, what is the concern?”

“Mostly quantity, I think?” Nie Mingjue hadn’t been able to figure it out either. “You’ve exceeded your allowance twice already, and really, how many books recounting the same exact content can you really need?”

“It’s not quite the same content,” Nie Huaisang said. “There are different…scenarios.”

“Yes, but it all leads to the same place in the end, doesn’t it? Hand, mouth, front, back, inside or outside; you read one, you’ve read them all. Though I guess the cutsleeve ones are different?”

“Not really,” Nie Huaisang admitted. “But maybe take a look anyway? Maybe you’ll like those better…here, come up to my room.”

Nie Huaisang had, apparently, started in on making quite a collection, and from the way he puttered around trying to find the right ones to share, seemed to be in the process of becoming a little connoisseur. It was pretty adorable, actually; Nie Mingjue couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Nie Huaisang so enthusiastic.

“Having two spears involved does seem to make it a bit more awkward,” he concluded after paging through a few. “And obviously you can’t do it from the front in the same way, but other than that the mechanics generally seem the same. I suppose there’s really only so many ways you can twist the human body…”

“How about this one, then?” Nie Huaisang said, offering up a book about mirror grinders sharing a toy between them. “Twice the young ladies involved!”

“That seems even less efficient. If they wanted to be penetrated, why be a mirror grinder instead of finding a man?”

Nie Huaisang seemed somewhat taken aback by the question. “Maybe they just fell in love with another woman first?” he eventually suggested.

That seemed reasonable enough, so Nie Mingjue nodded agreeably. “Makes sense that they’d use a toy, then. Otherwise wouldn't they be stuck with using just mouths and hands? Though I suppose there’s always the eponymous grinding motion, too.”

Nie Huaisang reached over and put his hand in Nie Mingjue’s lap.

“Huaisang! What are you doing?”

“Just checking,” Nie Huaisang said, rubbing the back of his head. “You’re really not…Wait, let me find you some others. Maybe you’ll like these better – they have more scenario involved.”

Truly Nie Huaisang had a wide collection. There were solo stories, coupled stories, stories involved groups of three or more, stories involving people being tied up or doing the tying, one story involving whips and pinching nails that Nie Mingjue initially thought was a torture manual that had gotten mixed in by mistake except for how the receiving party seemed extremely enthusiastic about it. There was even one involving –

“Fish?”

“Tentacles.”

“People want to fuck fish?”

“It’s not – you know what, I don’t know, maybe they do,” Nie Huaisang said, throwing up his hands. “Octopi are a surprisingly popular subject along the coast, and some of the artwork from Dongying features it.”

“You have works from Dongying?” Nie Mingjue asked, impressed. It wasn’t every young man’s hobby that involved international commerce. “You’re really turning into a collector, Huaisang.”

“I’m not – it’s not –” Nie Huaisang grimaced. “You know what, maybe the disciples are right and I should cut down on purchasing so many.”

“Why? If you’re enjoying your new hobby –”

“There’s a difference between being known as the guy who has some good spring books and being known as the guy who collects spring books as a hobby. The latter just sounds pathetic.”

Nie Mingjue wasn’t entirely sure about that.

“Well, it’s up to you,” he said, and started to get up to leave, only to have Nie Huaisang tug on his hand.

“Da-ge, I have a question.”

Nie Mingjue sat back down.

“Have you ever…?” Nie Huaisang nodded at the books.

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, wrinkling his nose a bit at the thought. “It seems like more trouble than it’s worth, really.”

“What about…uh…” He gestured at one in particular. Nie Mingjue leaned over and checked; it was one of the ones featuring a single man touching himself. “Do you…?”

“Oh, sure,” Nie Mingjue said. “Every once in a while. Don't most people? But there’s rather a difference between doing that and having to get up close and personal with someone else’s genitals, isn’t there? We all wipe our own asses after we shit, but that doesn’t mean we do it for other people.” He gave Nie Huaisang a pointed look. “Present company excluded.”

“I was a baby, it doesn’t count,” Nie Huaisang hissed at him. “Never bring it up again.”

Nie Mingjue smirked at him.

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes dramatically. “Da-ge, you’re hopeless. One day you’ll find someone you like enough to try it with!”

“Maybe,” Nie Mingjue said. “Maybe not. It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“Uh, yes it does! You’re going to have kids, aren’t you?”

���I haven’t decided yet,” Nie Mingjue said, hesitating a little. “Huaisang, you’re my heir.”

“I know that! I’m in line until you have kids of your own to inherit…why are you shaking your head?”

“You’re going to inherit after me,” Nie Mingjue said, as gently as he could. “I’m probably not going to have kids, but even if I did, I’d arrange it so that they’d be part of the branch family, not the main line. I want you to inherit.”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes were going wide.

No, it was too early to tell him about the saber spirits, Nie Mingjue thought to himself. About their family's horrible temper and his private suspicion that the temper and the qi deviations fed into each other; his conviction that Nie Huaisang would be a better sect leader than him, a better continuation for their line than him, and his determination to make sure that the next generation of Nie sect leaders didn't have to fear a shortened life the way he did. He’d tell him that later, sometime. Today was a good day, there was no point in spoiling it.

“Is that going to be a problem?” he asked instead. “I mean, you have such a wide variety here; don’t tell me you’re solely interested in cut-sleeves…?”

“No,” Nie Huaisang said. “No, I like – everything.”

“Well, then,” Nie Mingjue said. “There should be no problem, then. If you end up with a woman, have some kids; if you end up with a man, take a concubine. Either way, you’ll get an heir.” He frowned. “Assuming you don’t mind –”

“No, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said, and he sounded incredibly long-suffering. “I think I’ll manage to have sex, somehow.”

“Well, I mean, if you’re thinking about actually going ahead and trying it out, that’s a whole different conversation we need to have, as opposed to the talk about what it is. You need to be careful about it –”

“Ugh, da-ge, please, no –”

“I’m not going to lecture! Just don’t overdo it or anything. You don’t want to end up with a thousand bastards like Sect Leader Jin –”

“Gross! No!”

“– or with all sorts of diseases –”

“Da-ge!”

“– or with a reputation for being a dissolute or a –”

“I will only have sex with someone I love,” Nie Huaisang announced. “Or at least mildly care for. A nice clean person who likes me back. Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“More or less,” Nie Mingjue said, and glanced down at the books. “Say, Huaisang. You know so much about this. Have you ever…”

“Do you have a question?” Nie Huaisang scooted forward. “Ask away, da-ge!”

Nie Mingjue flicked his forehead. “Not a substantive one. But have you ever thought about making your own? You’re a perfectly good artist, and you’re very imaginative; I’m sure you could come up with some scenarios of your own that might be very interesting.”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes were wide. “I could, couldn’t I?” he said, marveling, and then suddenly jumped up and dashed over to grab some paper. “Oh, I could! I could – and that – and – and..!”

Nie Mingjue decided to retreat, smiling proudly to himself.

Reading and writing, he thought happily. They’d probably never get a warrior out of Nie Huaisang, but there might be a scholar in him yet!

[theonewiththefanfics]

Don’t Worry, Darling (one-shot)

Synopsis: Falling in love with a co-star is something that can hurt, especially when it seems like they’re talking to other people behind your back, but falling in love with a co-star and being unable to help when they’re sick, is even worse.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, SMUT 

Warnings: COVID-19, sickness, swearing, SMUT (fingering, m going down on f, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it))

Word count: 11 968 (yoikes)

Please note I’m not trying to make light of the pandemic or the virus and those impacted by it. It’s a very real and serious thing, which is why I decided to use it. Please stay safe and healthy, follow the local health guidelines and if you have the ability please get vaccinated. Let’s keep ourselves and one another safe, frens :)

When Y/N got the call she���d gotten the role of Jack’s ex-wife who’d disappeared in mysterious circumstances, she was over the moon. As a Marvel alumnus, she was excited to work with Florence, as she’d loved Midsommar, and knowing she was going to be one of the new faces carrying the next Marvel chapter, she wanted to get to know her. Having played Tony Stark’s adopted daughter since the age of six, she was very protective of the franchise but was excited to see where it’d go.

      Then Shia LaBeouf, Chris Pine as well with Dakota Johnson’s announcements coming soon after, Y/N got even more stoked, and with Olivia Wilde leading all of them, she was sure the movie would be a hit.

      Shia and Dakota had to drop out due to scheduling issues (which Y/N couldn’t lie – she was kind of happy Shia couldn’t do it), and that's where Harry Styles took over the role of Jack with Kiki Layne Dakota’s Margaret.

      Now, when Y/N had seen Harry’s picture next to the re-cast e-mail the whole production had been sent out, she might’ve had a little (a massive, like a ginormous) freak-out. As much as she’d grown up listening to classic rock, due to Robert Downey Jr. and Iron Man, she’d been an avid One Direction fan. Like to the point, it might even seem a bit creepy. Y/N had sort of grown out of the obsessive phase of it all, but most definitely admired the solo albums they’d been able to produce, and when Dunkirk came out, she was excited to see Harry join the acting world, with the amount of talent he had.

      The first table read was sort of awkward, and definitely the weirdest one, given how a pandemic had started, and everyone was at their respective homes using Zoom. 

      Y/N and Florence had been the first to join the conversation about half an hour before the official beginning, and by the time everyone else did, they were crying from laughter and had to excuse themselves from their computers to collect whatever remaining composure they had. 

      “You two alright?” Oliva Wilde had raised her eyebrow, as the women re-joined, still chuckling. “Will we have to use body doubles for the scenes you two are in?”

      “No!

      “Nohooo!” both of them yelled through laughter. “We’ll be as professional as professionals are. Which is very professional.”

      Then Y/N made the mistake of glancing at Florence’s square, and the two busted out laughing again, spewing apologies in between, but no one seemed to really mind. In fact, it looked like they appreciated how casual and open everyone was being, hoping the set wouldn’t be stiff either when they moved onto filming.

      And for the two women, it wasn’t really. Actually, they grew closer than ever. The amount of time Florence spent in Y/N’s trailer was to the point that the two started to talk about just moving in together. After scouring the nearby apartments for rent, they settled on a three-bedroom apartment, as two-bedroom ones were non-existent. 

      When Harry grew closer to them as well, given how he spent quite some time with both women, they suggested he move in as well.

      “You know, what? I changed my mind. You’re taking away our closet, and I don't like that,” Y/N pouted, watching as Florence lifted a pile of her clothes and moved it to her room. “That’s not very ‘treat people with kindness’ of you.”

      All he did was flick a finger at her forehead, which Y/N swatted away with a smile. When he’d double-checked about moving in with them (which, mind you was the seventh time, and half his stuff was already there), the two women were ecstatic. They got along amazingly on set and basically having a sleepover with friends every night suited all of them quite well. 

      At that moment, Y/N was sitting on the edge of her bed, knitting while Harry painted all of their toes and Florence put on facemasks.

      “Wine!” Y/N suddenly exclaimed, almost knocking over the light blue nail polish bottle as she jumped up, throwing her needles back on the bed. “We need wine!”

      “Do not ruin my masterpiece!” Harry hollered after her, as she waddled away on her heels, toes separated by foam and hight up in the air. She even had to manoeuvre around the carpet to avoid any hairs and fibres that could get stuck inside the still wet lacquer.

      It took her a second to find a bottle all three of them could enjoy, given their tastes were so different – Y/N preferred sweet and red, and didn’t care if it was a three-dollar bottle from Target, Harry had a bit more of an expensive pallet, giving preference to something with a more of a lingering aftertaste and in the higher ranges of price point, while Florence liked rosé and white wines.  

      Taking two glasses in one hand and the bottle with a third glass between her fingers, she shuffled back to her room when she heard the two muttering something in low voices before Harry whispered harshly, “I’m not telling Y/N that!” 

      “Won’t me what?” Y/N’s question made him and Florence spring back where they’d been engaged in a heated conversation when she re-entered the room, putting the wine bottle and glasses on the nightstand.

      Florence waved her off, giving her a smile, she didn’t believe in. “Nothing. Now come on, Harry will do your fingernails now, and I think it’s about time the mask came off.”

      And that’s when Y/N’s heart dropped. She’d been in the industry long enough to know how fake people could be, how they could put on smiles so inviting and friendly while hiding their true intentions behind them. She just didn’t think two people she’d found so genuine and sweet would be like that.

      And the thing was – it wasn’t the first time she’d heard the two whispering like that and hushing up when they saw her enter the room or even come somewhere near to them. 

In the beginning, Y/N had chalked it up to the two being closer, given they had to spend more time together, so they knew one another better, but this time sort of solidified it wasn’t the fact the two were closer, it had to deal with Y/N specifically.

      So, she started to distance herself. She’d had enough users in her life to last her for the rest of it. Y/N excused herself from the movie nights they had on most Fridays, she no longer joined in on the cooking sessions and mostly spent time in her room, or on work calls.

      When she re-entered the flat, four weeks after their falling out, they watched as she nodded to them, and went inside her room, closing the door, much like she’d been doing for the past thirty days. 

      “Do you think she knows?” Harry asked, brows furrowed and bottom lip between his teeth as he hoped the doors would open, yet, obviously, they didn’t. 

      “Well, I haven’t told her, and unless you did, then I doubt it…”

      Harry stood up, running a hand through his hair. “I’m gonna talk to her.”

      “You think it’s a good idea?”

      “No, but if she’s upset maybe she needs to talk to someone.”

      “Or maybe she wants to be alone.”

      Harry bit his lip thinking over Florence’s words. When he was upset about something, he himself did like to kind of retreat and become a little bit of a recluse, to sort out his emotions before anyone else tried to jump in and help with it, but the thing was – Y/N’s distancing started the night when she’d walked in on the two of them arguing, and it’d been about the girl in question herself, so he shook his head. “I’ll just ask if she’s alright.”

      He took a deep breath and went to enter the room he hadn’t seen in almost a month. “Hey.” Harry poked his head through Y/N’s door, making her swirl around in her chair. She looked adorable to him. She’d changed into a big fluffy nightgown, the hood up, a headband pushing hair away from her face with a green facemask covering her skin. The domestic life flashed through Harry’s head like a freight train, as it was something he craved, but pushed it away. There was no daydreaming before figuring out what was in front of him in reality. “You okay?”

      “ 'M fine.” She shot him a quick smile. “Why? Did Olivia send something new for the script?”

      “Um, no, ‘s just you’ve been, I dunno – detached a bit?”

      “Look, Harry… I may be younger than you, but I’ve been in this industry longer than you or Florence.” Y/N stood and shrugged before crossing her arms. “And the thing is – I don’t care for shit like that. So, you two can gossip and whisper and talk whatever you want about me behind my back. Everyone else is doing that so, you’re not that special. But’ I’d prefer if you did it somewhere else besides my room, my space, and I’ll say this once, but very clearly – we’re not friends. I don’t need friends like you. We’ll be civil and we’ll do our jobs, but…” Harry’s heart broke at her eyes, seeing the pain in them as she nodded and made sure he understood where she stood. “We’re not friends.”

      She didn’t leave any room for argument. When Harry left, Y/N didn’t even look over her shoulder to see him exit.

      The next couple of mornings she didn’t see them leave nor come back, seeing as Y/N had the week off from filming, but the morning of the seventh day was awkward as hell, given how all of them had to go and get tested, and well, they had their allocated time slots one after the other. Usually, they’d take one car together, but this time, Y/N drove off on her own, while Harry and Florence carpooled on their own.

      The tests were always nerve-wracking. If one person went down, the whole production did for at least two weeks. And as much as she hated going in alone, she was glad no one was with her in the car, because as she stepped out, a certain notion swept over her that this would be a lot different than usual.

      A doctor dressed head to toe in protective gear motioned for her to sit down, as another processed her ID and work ID. Her leg was bouncing up and down the whole time, and he eyed her. If she could see his lips, she was sure they’d be pursed. “Anything wrong?” He handed her back the IDs before moving to the table where a set of large q-tips seemed to lay in sterile packs.

      Y/N sighed, biting her lip and nodded. “Woke up with a sore throat and a small cough appeared on my way here as well. I wiped and cleaned everything down at the apartment I’m staying at and wore gloves and a mask the whole time.”

      “Anything else?” the doctor asked, writing down each word as Y/N said. “The feeling of breaking bones, fever, muscle pain, eyes hurting when you look up, lost sense of smell or taste?”

      “No, nothing like that. Just a sore throat and a small cough.”

The doctor let out a large sigh, probably from having to wear a full-on hazmat suit. “Alright. Just for safety reasons, so we know who’s a potential contact person, who are you staying with?”

      “Florence Pugh and Harry Styles. We’re renting an apartment together.”

      “Do you know if they’ve had any symptoms?”

      “No,” Y/N shook her head honestly. “And I haven’t really interacted with them this past week, as they’ve been on set, and I didn’t have any scenes to film, and by the time they get back, I’m already asleep, and I’m still asleep when they leave so there’s been no direct contact. We have our own kitchenware, so there shouldn’t be any direct contact. I think.”

      That last bit was half-true, seeing as she hadn’t been asleep when they came back, but she might as well have been. The second Y/N heard the door click, she’d place her headphones on or leave the room, only glimpsing the two faces falling as she did that.

      The doctor clearing his throat and motioning for Y/N to open her mouth so he could take a swab and then to do the same for both her nostrils, was what brought her out of it. She was so used to it, it was like nothing at that point. “Okay. We’ll need you to stay in the car while the test is being run, and if it comes back positive, you’ll be placed in a separate flat, as to not endanger the rest.”

      Her ‘alright’ was barely audible. Fuck. It just felt like the universe was against her. First, the two people she’d gotten closest to were whispering behind her back and being fake to her face, now she might have a super contagious virus to which there was no medicine really, nor was there a vaccine, let alone the thought she’d have to miss filming for potentially more than two weeks.

      The thirty minutes of wait were agonizing, her leg bouncing up and down. Y/N’s eyes kept watching the line of cars slowly move forward through the tent and then settle behind hers. She knew Harry was about five cars away, and she was glad he wasn’t closer. They weren’t really allowed to get out of their vehicles while the tests were being run, and Y/N didn’t think she’d be able to not look back at him through her review mirror. 

      Two more minutes passed when finally, one of the med students in the full hazmat suit came up and knocked on her car window.

      “Miss Y/L/N?”

      “Yes?” 

      “ID please.” It was standard so that no med info got leaked. The only reason she had to rummage through her stuff was, because she’d bite the little plastic card in half if she didn’t throw it somewhere deep inside her bag.

      “So.” The man sighed, and he didn’t need to elaborate. Y/N understood, but still, he had to confirm it to her. “Your test came back positive for COVID-19. The production has been informed, and for safety reasons, everyone will have to self-isolate for two weeks.”

      Y/N’s head slammed against the back of the seat. “Fuck. Okay.”

      “Because so far, you’re the only positive case, you’ll be placed into quarantine. We’ll need the address you’re staying at, and if you need anything from your apartment, we can send someone over to grab a few things. You’ll have to follow the black SUV right there.” He pointed further down the lot where indeed a black SUV stood. “They’ll take you to where the quarantine apartments are. Is there anything immediate you’ll need?”

      “I – uh – I need my pills, my birth control that is. I take it every evening. Computer, chargers. That’s the most immediate I can think of. Maybe some food? I didn’t get the chance to eat breakfast.”

      Even through the mask, Y/N could see the man smile. “Well arrange that. In the meantime, here’s the number for the coordinators who’ll get you the rest of your things and deliver them to you.”

      “Thank you. I’ll call my assistant, and she’ll drive down to the apartment. She knows where everything is.”

      “Have you been in close contact with her?”

      “Just through the phone. She hasn’t been on set in almost a month, as I told her only to come when it’s an emergency… Guess this is it.” Y/N let out an awkward chuckle.

      And truly that was it. With one last motion as to where the SUV stood, she started back up the engine, reversed out of the spot and followed the car to where the ‘Don’t Worry Darling’ production had set up a few quarantine apartments, specifically for actors and crew, speed-dialling her assistant Anna and letting her know of the situation.

      “Shit, girl,” she’d cursed. “That sucks.”

      “Tell me about it.”

      “Okay,” Anna huffed. “Do you have a spare key for the apartment by any case or do I need to go down to the lot and ask Harry or Florence?”

      “Both of them will be at the apartment, given how everything’s shut down, so they should be able to open the door for you. Hopefully, if both of them are negative. If not, call me, I’ll tell you where we hide the spare. Thank you, Anna.”

      “Of course.”

      As Y/N pulled up behind the SUV, a man and a woman in face guards and masks stepped out. She ended the call and stepped out as well, pulling on a cloth face mask, an envelope in their hands, which they handed to her.

      “Your flat’s on the third floor, 367. When you have the list of things you need, forward them to us, and we’ll gather your things.”

      Y/N nodded and gave them a tight smile. “Thank you. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

      With a sigh, she took her bag and entered the complex. As much as she’d only had a small cough in the morning and a sore throat, walking up those flights of stairs made her winded more than it usually would. Maybe it was the knowledge she had a sickness, or maybe it was stress about missing work and putting everyone on lockdown, or maybe it was the combination of it all with her falling out with Harry and Florence on top.

      She placed the key in the lock and twisted, revealing a studio type apartment, and it was so bare it made her heart clench. As much as she felt awkward being around Florence and Harry, their flat was a bit messy, had little pieces of clothing thrown around, giant knitted blankets on the sofas, a candle always lit whenever someone was home. Harry’s shoes were typically all over the place while Y/N’s make up was scattered around everywhere. Literally. Florence and Harry had gotten back early one morning from a night shoot and found her looking under the sofas for one of her lash glues as she started to get ready for the day. They’d made that flat their home for the time being. This… this was nothing like that.

      She threw the keys on the small kitchen counter and shrugged off her jacket. They was going to be a long two weeks. At best.

 ***

       Back at their place, Florence and Harry were pacing around, having heard the news that someone was positive, and everything had to shut down for the time being, yet Y/N was nowhere to be seen when a knock at the door disrupted them.

      Harry was there and flinging it open in a matter of a second, only to be stopped by Anna instead of Y/N.

      “Hey.” His brows furrowed as she and two people all wearing masks and gloves entered. “What’s going on? Is Y/N alright?”

      Anna sighed, nodding her head for the two strangers to go towards the woman’s room. “She was the one who tested positive for the virus. Gave me a list of the things she’d need while in quarantine. We’re here to pick ‘em up and get them to her.”

      “And she’s not doing that here?”

      “Per the safety instructions, she’s been placed in a separate flat in self-isolation.”

      “She could’ve done that here. We’d be fine with it,” Florence butted in, arms crossed over her chest. “We’re more than willing to take care of her. She’ll need someone to help her.”

      “You both tested negative.” One of the people piped up, carrying a box of books and yarn. “I’m sorry, but she’ll have to quarantine separately until she’s no longer infected. She’s under the supervision of doctors, and she knows if an emergency happens, they’ll be there in ten minutes tops. I’m sorry, but this is how it has to be.”

      Harry sighed, nodding as the people exited their place, but before Anna could leave, he took hold of her bicep. “Hey, can you please tell her to call me? I just wanna talk.”

      “I uh – ” Anna furrowed her brows, showing Harry that Y/N hadn’t said anything to her about the falling out they’d had. “I’ll uh, yeah. I’ll do that.”

      With that he was left to close the door and just wait for… anything.

 ***

       In the two hours Y/N had spent in the apartment, she already felt like going insane, having been left alone with her thoughts, so how she was going to do another two weeks after finally getting back into the rhythm of work was beyond her. She didn’t have any of her knitting supplies, didn’t have any of her books (yet), and most likely there was no reason to look at her script anymore, as she’d made up her mind about a lot of things. 

      There was a knock at the door, and Y/N instantly had a mask on her face and gloves on her hands. She peeped through the peephole and when she saw boxes lined in the hallway, three people in masks and faceguards at least six feet away, only then did she open the door and give them a wave.

      “Everything should be here, but if you need anything else just pop me a message.” Anna then pointed at a bag that sat atop everything. “There are the most important things, so you don’t have to rummage through everything and a pizza is on the way while I do some grocery shopping for you. And umm, there’s a paper you need to sing that you know you need to be in self-isolation and that you understand what happens if you’re not.”

      Y/N hoped all of them understood she was smiling underneath the mask, grateful for having them help her out like that. “Thank you. So much.”

      She rushed inside found a pen and signed it, moving between the boxes to place the papers on the stairs so that they could be safely retrieved. With that, the two assigned people left, leaving Anna to say goodbye.

      “Call me.” She pointed at Y/N. “No matter what, even if you just wanna talk for five seconds.”

      “Will do.” Y/N nodded and gave her a thumbs up. “If I could, I’d hug you.”

      Anna sighed, cocking her head. “Same. And umm, Harry told me to ask you to call him.”

      “Yeah, uh thank you.” She knew he probably wanted to talk, so it wasn’t that big of a surprise, but it still made her stumble on her words. “Take care, Anna.”

      “You too.”

***

       The next two days Y/N spent worrying as to how to present her decisions to the cast and crew. She felt worse with every hour, and with that had come her thought process, but as much as everyone was going to be impacted by what she was going to do, Olivia would be the one dealing with it most, so later that night she hopped on a Zoom call with her director.

      “Hey, girl.” Olivia gave her a warm smile, and Y/N almost melted. God, she loved that woman. She was like the older sister she never had. “How are you doing?”

      “I’m alright. Feelin’ kind of woozy from time to time, throat’s killing me, and I’m fairly certain I’m getting abs from how much I’m coughing.” That made both of them chuckle before Y/N bit her lip and ran a hand through her hair. “Look,” she sighed, looking at Olivia. “The reason I called you is that umm… well, I think it’d be a lot more cost-effective for you to re-cast me. We’ve barely shot one scene with me. I’ll be out of commission for two weeks, as a minimum. It could get worse. And I’m definitely not going to be back before I get two negative consecutive tests.”

      Olivia shook her head, running down her hands over her face and then through her hair. “Y/N, I really don’t want to do this. There’s a reason we cast you. You’re amazing, and yours and Harry’s chemistry is off the charts. We’re all quarantining for two weeks, and I’m sure you’ll be fine in no time, back on set and killing it like you always do.”

      “You don’t know that.”

      “Of course, I do! Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

      “All I’m saying it could take up to a month to get those two negative tests. By that point, you could’ve shot at least a fourth of my scenes. Olivia…” Y/N gave her a small, sad smile. “I know you know I’m right. I hate to pass on this, but I won’t hinder the production. If you want my input, I’ll help with the re-casting, if it takes the guilt away.”

      “I still feel like shit this is an option we even have to consider.”

      “’S not your fault. You didn’t get me sick. We should be happy it’s just me, not someone else or more than one person.”

            ***

      For two more days, it was radio silence from Y/N, and Harry and Florence were anxious messes. If they could distract themselves from the falling out while on set, then now, having to be cooped up inside the apartment with pretty much nothing to do, was so much worse, not to mention Y/N declined all of their calls and left their messages on read, leaving the only option for checking in either through Anna or what she decided to share on her social media, which wasn’t a lot. But the thing was, Harry knew his best bet was to call Y/N in the middle of the night. Disorientated and barely awake, she probably wouldn’t look at the caller ID once. And he was right.

      A bleary face appeared on his screen, eyes squinting as she tried to block out as much of the light as possible. “Hello?” Her voice was scratchy, and Harry’s heart clenched at just how much pain her throat must be in, let alone how she was feeling as a whole.

      “Hey, there, lovie.”

      It took her a second to comprehend the person who was speaking, and she’d be lying if she said hearing Harry’s voice didn’t bring her some sort of joy. “Hey, H. Are you alright? Why are you still up?”

      “I couldn’t sleep. Kept thinking about you.”

      Y/N hummed, rolling on her side, and immediately regretting it as the action elicited a coughing fit. “Yeah?” she asked hoarsely. “ ’Nd what about me?”

      ‘How shitty I feel about everything’, ‘I miss you’, ‘I’m so fucking terrified’, but instead he asked, “How are you doing?”

      “Alright,” Y/N croaked out before her body was racked with coughs once more. Harry’s own chest hurt just hearing them. “Fever’s finally down, so I’m getting some sort of sleep. Throat’s killing me though, and they’ve hooked me up to an IV. They’ll be coming in two hours or so to change the bag. How are you?” she asked quietly. “How’s Florence?”

      “She’s alright. Upset. Just like I am.”

      Y/N’s brows furrowed. “Why’re you upset?”

      “Are you kidding me? You’re sick, alone in quarantine and… and we can’t help you. I can’t help you.”

      A genuine chuckle escaped her. “Didn’t know you had a medical degree, Styles. Could be my personal nurse. Fetch me my water and shit.”

      “No, but at least I’d like to be there for you.”

      “Harry…” 

      “I like you,” he said after taking a deep breath, hoping that the break he’d heard in Y/N’s voice as she’d said his name wasn’t just because of the sickness, but because her heart thudded just as fast as his when he thought of them together, that her mind reeled with the possibilities of where their futures could take them and that whenever they touched, she could feel the electricity that ran through his fingertips, igniting his whole body. “That’s what Florence and I were whispering about all the time. Is that I’m madly crushing on you, and I couldn’t gather the courage to say it to you.”

      A strong coughing fit made her drop the phone on the bed and lean over, as she gasped for breath, and through it all, all Harry wanted was to be there. Fuck him possibly getting the virus, as long as he could make it easier for her in some way. 

      “ ’M sorry,” Y/N whispered, trying to keep her voice as low as possible as to not aggravate her throat. “Harry, I’m so sorry.”

      “Hey, there’s nothing to apologise. You’re sick, you can’t help –”

      “No,” she shook her head. “I’m sorry I assumed you and Florence were talking bad behind my back. I never should’ve done that. And this is not an excuse, I’m not trying to shift the blame from being in the wrong, but I like you too.” She gave him a shy grin that he thought was as bright as the sun. “I really like you too, Harry. I think that’s why it hurt so much to hear you two whispering ‘bout something. And thinking it was about me, and it was something bad, hurt even more, ‘cause I really connected with Flo, and I kinda, well I kind of fell for you. Hard.”

      “You did?” His tone was like he didn’t believe what his ears were hearing.

      “Yeah. A lot actually… I – I really like you, Harry.”

      He couldn’t explain how his heart expanded in his chest while simultaneously was being crushed by his inability to help, by the distance between them, while the hope that glimmered in his eyes at Y/N’s words made her heart break as much as his was, when he asked, “So you won’t resign?”

“Harry,” Y/N made her voice as tough as it could sound with her condition. “I told them to re-cast me not because of you. I’ve been on enough sets and worked with enough pricks, and still gotten the job done. Genuinely, this is not because of you or Florence. I just – I just don’t want to hold up production. You’ll all be out in what – twelve days or something? I’ll be here for at least twice that, if everything goes the way it’s going right now.”

      “I don’t want anyone else to play Larie. You are my Larie,” he muttered, which made Y/N smile, but in a true Y/N fashion she just wanted to make others feel better. 

      “You do know Jack murders Larie in the middle of the night.”

      Harry’s mouth opened like a fishes’ while Y/N’s mouth pulled up in a grin. “That’s – that’s not what I mean, and you know it!”

      Both of them were laughing now, all tension having evaporated. 

      “I know.” She bit on her lower lip. “But um… we’ve gotta be practical. I sent Olivia my resignation letter already, and she signed.”

      She saw Harry sigh and throw back his head at her words. 

      “ ’M sorry, Haz. I didn’t want to but –”

      “I know.” His smile was gentle, understanding. “You always put everyone before yourself. God, this just sucks major ass.”

      “Trust me,” Y/N started before being interrupted by another major coughing fit. “I –,” she took in a breath. “I know.”

      Her heart cracked seeing Harry’s face and his green eyes, the eyes she’d gotten lost in more times than she’d ever admitted being lined by tears. “I wish I could help you.”

      “But you are. Just by – by talking to me, by keeping my mind off things. You’re helping me more than you’ll ever know.”

      “When you get out, I’m taking you on a date.”

      Y/N couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on her face. For the first time in a while, she felt good, despite being sick. “Is that a threat, Styles?”

      “It’s a fucking promise.”

      That night she fell asleep listening to Harry talking, seeing as it became harder and harder for her to do so, so he just took over, telling her stories that lulled her to dreamland where he was there, and she could touch him. 

      The following days she also had calls with Florence and the rest of her cast to explain the situation, but she wasn’t doing much talking anymore, and one night they’d even seen her almost throw up from coughing so much, which broke everyone’s hearts. They were lucky the only Covid case before Y/N had been a light one, so witnessing just how brutal it could be, made everyone appreciate what they had, but at the same time, feel as helpless as ever.

      A week and a half in, that was when shit really hit the fan. Despite her feeling shitty the previous days, now Y/N woke up from the feeling as if she was drowning. She’d fallen asleep while talking with Harry on FaceTime, his features illuminated on her phone. At first, she thought it was just her dream still lingering and causing that effect, but when after a minute or so her lungs still remained on fire, she knew she had to dial the doctors.

      In five minutes’ time, an ambulance was at her door, and it was a miracle she’d been able to get out of bed to open it because the second she did, her whole body pretty much collapsed into the arms of one of the nurses. 

*** 

      “Come on,” Harry muttered into the phone, pulling on a pair of trousers as quickly as possible and a knitted sweater he took from the floor as he immediately tried to redial her, having heard the call drop. “Come on! Pick up, Y/N!” Her voicemail answered instead.

      “Damn it!”

      It took Harry seven minutes with the way he was driving to get to her assigned isolation place, only to be greeted by red and blue flashing lights, an ambulance right in front of the entrance, and it took Harry five seconds to feel his heart drop as a team of three doctors wheeled out a gurney on which lay Y/N, face covered in a mask, an IV stuck inside her arm while a huge plastic cover domed over her body.

      Without even thinking about himself or his safety, Harry jumped out of his car, rushing towards the ambulance.

      “Sir.” One of the doctors extended a palm towards him, keeping him back as Harry tried to get towards the inside of the car. “Sir, you can’t be here.”

      “Is that Y/N?” Harry felt like he was spinning out of control, and his mind was dizzy from not being able to take in a proper breath. “Is – is that Y/N?” 

      “Are you family?”

      “I –,” Harry so desperately wanted to say yes, to say he was her boyfriend at least, but he couldn’t lie. “No, I’m just her collegue – friend! I’m her friend. Is she alright?”

      “Okay, well is there anyone we can contact from her family?”

      Harry nodded, knowing that her mum and dad were on her emergency contact lists. “But her family is out of the country, and they won’t be able to fly out with all the restrictions in place.”

      “Alright.” The doctor sighed before looking back inside the car. In a way, Harry was happy he couldn’t see Y/N because he was sure if he did, he’d completely break down and crumble to the ground. “We’ll contact her parents, but if you could leave us your number as an emergency contact on place that’d be a lot of help.”

      “Okay, uh…” Harry took in a deep breath, held it for five seconds and then let it out before reciting the number he used while in the USA and his permanent UK number as well, so he could be reachable anywhere and at any point in day or night, no matter the time. 

      “Well keep you up to date.”

      And with that, the ambulance doors shut, and they rushed away, the vailing of sirens echoing in the dark night, leaving Harry with a hand in his hair, tears streaming down his cheeks and without a clue as to what to do.

***

      In the end, Harry had gone back to his car and cried for what felt like ages, but instead, it was just twenty minutes. He pulled himself together but was still shaking as he made his way back to the flat where Florence basically ripped open the door. Seeing his face told her everything she needed to know.

      “She’ll be alright,” the woman muttered as she soothed Harry by rubbing a palm up and down his back, letting him hide his face in her shoulder. “It’s Y/N. She’d pull through an atomic bomb.”

      They spent the rest of the night and the following day on the couch, glued to Harry’s phone waiting for any sort of updates. From time to time a text message came from the hospital letting them know what procedures were being done on Y/N, that her parents have been informed, and if necessary, they’d allowed Harry to be the main contact person because of his proximity to their daughter.

      Three days later and the quarantine for the rest of the cast and crew ended, yet when they returned to the set, everyone was in low spirits. Especially, Harry – he was miserable. Every moment spent not reciting lines or acting was occupied with the thoughts of Y/N, how she was doing, was she improving, was she still breathing, how he wanted to just ditch everything and run to her, to help in whatever way he could.

      “This sucks,” Florence grumbled, arms crossed over her chest as they took a break while re-setting already in for the fifth day of filming, eight since Y/N’d been in the hospital. “Can’t believe they won’t allow a phone in with her.”

      “It’s the same policy for everyone, but trust me,” Harry sighed and looked up at the bright blue sunny sky above. “The number of times I got out of my bed in the middle of the night and had the car keys in hand is ridiculous. And the number of times I’ve thought about breaking into that hospital is even more concerning.”     

      Florence let out a small chuckle and nudged his shoulder. “I’d cover for you if you did. As long as she doesn’t have to be there alone.” She hung her head, blond strands falling down to curtain her face. “Can’t imagine how scared she must be.”

      Harry just sighed. There really wasn’t anything he could say. 

      Something vibrated in his pocket, but he no longer furrowed his brows when unknown numbers called, knowing it was from the hospital. It was nerve-wracking though to pick up the call each time because he had to mentally prepare himself for the possibility of bad news, even though he always hoped for good ones. 

      “Yes, hi. Hello. I – oh,” he put a hand over his mouth and sagged down onto a chair. “Oh, thank god, thank you, doctor. Yeah. Yes, I’ll let her know, and someone will be there to open the flat. Thank you again. For everything.”

      He took away the phone from his ear and stared at the ground for a minute before leaping up and hugging Florence, laughter escaping his mouth.

      “What’s wrong?”

      “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, it’s the opposite. Y/N’s out of the hospital.”

      “Oh thank god!” Her hands flew to hug him back.

      “She’ll have to stay in self-isolation until the two negative tests and will be monitored by the doctors, but she’s out.”

        Immediately he was dialling her, and Harry had never been as happy for the invention of a video call, because when he saw Y/N’s face light up the screen, as tired as she looked, it was the most beautiful sight that graced his eyes.

      “Hey, lovie.” His voice was soft and low as if anything louder would worsen her state.

      Her ‘hey’ was barely audible, but he heard it, and it made the weight of a boulder drop off his shoulders.

      “I’m so – I mean we all are so happy you’re back home.”

      Y/N smiled, shaking her head. “I’m happy too,” she whispered. “I missed you. Missed everyone, but most of all I missed you.”

      Harry was happy they were separated by a screen because if she was anywhere in a five-mile radius, he was sure she would be able to hear his heart beat out of his ribcage at her words. “How are you feeling?”

      “ ‘M alright,” Y/N tried to let him know. “Very tired.”

      “Then get back to sleep, lovie.”

      Y/N shook her head. “Wanna talk to you.”

      “I’ll keep talking,” Harry promised. “Like we did before, okay.”

      “Okay…”

      And so, he did. He kept talking as Y/N listened, and he watched as her eyes slowly closed before she drifted off to sleep. Even though Harry had to go back to filming, he didn’t dare end the call. He’d never end the call. 

***

      It took a month and a half for Y/N to get those two consecutive negative tests, to feel somewhat human again and when she did, she probably garnered at least seven speeding tickets with how fast she was driving down to the set.

      It was the most inconspicuous outfit she could scramble together, consisting of a hoodie and baseball cap, as she watched Harry as Jack lean down to peck the actress’s lips, then step into the vintage car and rev out in the driveway, while a dishevelled Florence started the scene from the side, eyes racking over Jack’s first wife, who was dressed the exact same way, hair styled like hers and even nails painted the same, her character putting all the puzzle pieces together. 

      “And cut!” Olivia yelled across the lot, nudging Y/N’s side and giving her a smirk. “He’s gonna freak. You’re all he’s been talking about on set. We almost had to put a ban on you as a topic,” she muttered that part so only the woman could hear while telling everyone to re-set, so they could do the scene from another angle, but not before asking the three actors to come and look at the monitors so they could understand how to move in order to keep the continuity.

      Y/N moved to the side, ducking her head down as Harry, Florence and Mandy, the actress that took over her role, all leaned closer to watch the monitors. Y/N had to bite on her lip to keep the grin away, as all of them analysed their movements and the scene, nodding along to what Olivia was saying.

      “Y/L/N, what do you think?” Olivia asked, grinning. 

      Y/N stepped forward a bit, seeing all of their shocked faces through her peripheral, as she pointed to the screen, lifting her head so that everyone could see her face fully. “I think it’s great, you might want to step to the side a bit more, Harry, when –” but she was unable to finish the sentence as he swooped her in his arms, lifting her basically off the ground, and burying his face in her neck.

      “Watch the hair! Daniele will have a fit if you ruin her masterpiece!” Y/N laughed, holding one of her hands on the base of his neck, the other tightly wrapped around his shoulders, but he just shook his head, and she could feel tears splash her skin.

      “Fuck the hair!” He let out a small chuckle, and she could hear the lump in his throat. “I’ve missed you so much. I was so scared.”

      “Same,” Y/N whispered. “Missed you like crazy. And your stupid, unfunny dad jokes.”

      “ ‘M hilarious, lovie, what are you talking about?”

      He finally set her down but didn’t let go of her waist, and she smiled cupping his cheeks. “A true comedian, that’s what you are.”

      “I know. Why’dya think I got that SNL slot?”

      But his eyes, as he gazed into hers once more glassed over.

      “Hey,” Y/N cooed wiping away the tears running down his cheeks. “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry, cause then I’ll cry, and we’re both gonna be crying messes, and then these guys will have to deal with that.”

      Harry sighed, leaning into her touch. “Happy tears, lovie. All happy tears.”

      The two looked at one another as if there was no one else in the universe. And for the two of them, there really wasn’t. Neither had to say what was on their minds, they already knew.

      His face was inching closer to Y/N’s, and heart started to beat erratically, not that Harry minded, as his palm rested in the middle of her back. In fact, his own heart mimicked the rhythm, but it stuttered when someone behind him cleared their throat and interrupted their moment.

      Y/N hid her face in Harry’s chest as he sighed at Olivia’s raised eyebrow. 

      “You’ll be able to smooch as much as you want, but we need him in hair and make-up.”

      “Oli-“

      “Now,” she let out a small laugh. “Before Daniele removes my head from my shoulders.”

      “Go,” Y/N patted his side. “I’ll still be here.”

      “Is that a threat?”

      She grinned up at him. “A fucking promise.”

      Harry dashed away like lightning, hoping that the quicker he was done, the sooner he could have Y/N back in his arms even if it was for a second, but her attention was taken by a woman with long blond curls, a flowing green slip on her figure; her steps unsure as was the wave she gave her, but Y/N’s heart melted at the sight of her.

      “Hey, Flo,” she whispered and brought the girl in a bone-crushing hug, holding onto her, trying to convey how much she regretted her words and actions, especially because they were unwarranted.

      “I’m so sorry,” Y/N said, and she nodded.

      “Me too.”

      Y/N shook her head. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

      “And I should’ve made sure Harry pulled his head out of his ass.”

      That made both of them laugh, and it was nice to do it not only without having to cough up her insides, but to do it with someone she’d connected with and had become great friends with.

      “He did that. I just hope if he wants to make another move, it won’t take me dying to push him to.”

      Florence pointed at her, a serious look on her face. “I’ll kill him with my bare hands if he does.”

      A small noise of someone clearing their throat from behind Y/N took both of their attentions for them to go onto the actress who’d been cast as her replacement, the woman coming forward and extending her hand for a handshake with a nervous smile. “Hi. I’m Mandy.”

      “ ‘S very nice to meet you.” Y/N tried to give off as open and accepting of a vibe as much as possible, because she genuinely wanted Mandy to feel respected and that she wasn’t a threat. “Before you think anything if you’re worried about me taking the role, don’t. It’s all yours, so don’t worry about that. I just stopped by ‘cause I hadn’t seen anyone in almost two months. Never thought I’d say this, but fuck did I missed people.”

      Mandy shook her head, her smile a lot lighter and brighter now. “I – uh thank you for that actually. I’m a huge fan of yours, and well, can only try and live up to what you would’ve portrayed.”

      “Well, I’m sure you’ll absolutely kill it, and I can’t wait for the movie.”

      It was great to see Mandy’s shoulders drop in relief. “Would it be too much if I asked for advice on the role?”

      “No,” Y/N laughed. “But I would say that you should make this role your own. It is yours. You are Larie now. And Harry’s Jack. Make it yours.”

      As she said that, she turned to watch Harry who was practically bouncing on his feet, green eyes flitting back to where she was standing, and when their gazes met, neither could help the smiles blooming on their faces.

       “You know he messed up a scene once and said your name?”    

      Y/N’s brows furrowed as she looked over at Mandy. “What do you mean ‘said my name’?”

      “It was a kissing scene. The wedding bit, actually. As Jack and Larie recited their vows, and he leans down to kiss her, he was supposed to say, ‘I’ll love you Larie, until the very end’. He said your name instead.”

      That hit Y/N more than a semi-truck wheeling a ton of bricks would. Yes, she knew Harry liked her, and he knew she liked him, but love was a big word, and for him to admit that, whether it was a flub or not, was even bigger.

      Harry was a private person. While he openly talked about what he felt, he guarded heart at the same time, much like Y/N did. But she had to wait until Olivia yelled cut for the day, and had to watch him make a mad dash for hair and make-up before running to the dressing trailer as he didn’t want to miss out on a second he could spend with her. Even as they walked up to their shared flat and he opened the door, his fingers stayed intertwined with hers.

      “How does it feel to be back?”

      “Kinda shitty, honestly,” Y/N laughed throwing the keys to the table and shrugging out of the jacket and taking off the cap, Harry immediately helping her and putting it on one of the racks. “I’ll have to move out, now that I’m not part of the movie.”

      “Why? ‘S not like the production is paying our rent, we’re doing it out of our own pocket.”

      “Yes, but now that I don’t have a job, I kinda need to look for one.”

      “And what says that you can’t live here while you do that?”

      “I –,” Y/N’s brows furrowed. “I mean nothing, really… I just… kinda thought because I’m not part of the movie anymore it’d be safer if I found my own place. But um… I think I have something else I’d like to talk about. Mandy,” Y/N dragged out her name a bit, a sly smirk appearing on her face, “told me you had a flub on set.”

      Harry’s heart was pounding underneath her palm where she’d grabbed onto the lapels of his dress shirt, so he couldn’t run away. 

“I’ve uh,” he let out a nervous laugh. “I’ve had a couple of flubs on set. Who hasn’t?”

      “I don’t doubt that. But she said you misspoke a name.”

      She made him look into her eyes and wouldn’t dare let their gaze break. “You said my name during the wedding scene. You said Y/N. Not Larie.”

      Harry looked like a cross between a deer in headlights and a fish out of the water, eyes wide with his mouth opening and closing, no sound coming out, which made Y/N worry a bit.

      She placed a palm against his cheek. “Harry? You alright?”

      “I – I meant it.” He let out a deep sigh and leaned down to press his forehead to hers. “And when I thought back on it, I don’t remember seeing her face or Larie’s face. It was yours. And the lips I was kissing belonged to you too. I was holding your hand, and you were holding mine. And I know it’s way too quick, for a wedding -”

      “Unless you threaten me with it –”

      “I –,” Harry stuttered before laughing, all tension evaporating from his body. “No, that I don’t want to be a threat. That will be a question asked with love and hopefully an answer given to it the same way.”

      Y/N nudged his nose with hers. “Well, we’ll see. I mean if you don’t kiss me what makes you th–,” 

      But she didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence before his lips were on hers, pressing with such gentleness, it made her weak at the knees, and she would’ve crumbled if Harry’s arms handn’t woven around her middle, fingers pressing into the sides, the pressure increasing with each second their mouths were connected. 

      Harry’s hand drifted up Y/N’s back and settled on her neck as if he could pull her any closer, her own palms slipping over his stomach, pecks and grabbing onto his jaw, fingers lightly scratching at the stubble that’d grown throughout the day. He had to shave every morning for the role of Jack, but each evening she’d see a small, darkened shadow across his skin, and Y/N would be lying that when she’d realised her attraction to him, she hadn’t thought about how delicious it would feel to have it leave small burn marks on the inside of her thighs. 

      Unconsciously, she clenched her thighs, trying to create some sort of friction which became more and more unbearable as she felt Harry moan into her mouth, tongue sweeping against her lower lip, asking for permission without words, which Y/N granted without a second to spare. 

      It was heavenly to have him so close to her. She did wonder if the sensation was intensified by the fact, she hadn’t been able to touch anyone properly for almost two months, but that thought vanished when his fingers skimmed underneath her hoodie, brushing against her heated skin. No. It was because it was Harry.

       “I –,” he was breathless as he pulled away, but Y/N didn’t let him get too far, her lips attaching themselves to his neck, making him groan in pleasure. “I don’t want to push this too far.”

      Her brows scrunched up, as she took a look at him. “What do you mean? If you think I don’t want this, then let me be perfectly clear – I do. A lot.”

      Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m so fucking glad you do, but… Y/N you just got out of the hospital, where you were on a ventilator. I don’t want to make anything worse.”

      “Not your choice to make.” A devious smile appeared on her face, as she stepped a few feet away and lifted her hoodie over her head, making Harry inhale sharply. “So here are your two options.” Her hands went behind her back, unclasping her bra and letting it slowly drop to the floor, the green eyes that hadn’t left her now wide as saucers. “Number one.” She toed off her boots and popped open the button of her jeans. “We can stop this, obviously, just say the word, and I get to my room, start packing and looking for a new place. We can have some dinner and just chill. Or number two.” Y/N hooked her jeans behind her thumbs and slowly dragged them down her legs, revealing more and more of herself to Harry. “We can go inside your room and make up for the lost time. In every position imaginable, for as long as you want. But.” Y/N’s eyes glimmered with mischief as she made her way to Harry’s room. “I don’t think you wanna take the first option.”

      Harry ran a hand through his hair, turning it from the meticulously gelled hairstyle into a mop of messy strands. “You know you’re making it really hard for me to be a gentleman.”

      Y/N swayed her hips a bit more as she took another step closer to his room, the door meeting her back, and one of her hands went to the doorknob, pressing down on it. “Well, a gentleman doesn’t kiss before the first date, and definitely not like that.”

      He stood there, hands on his hips, eyes not leaving her body, as she cocked her head. “So, what’s it gonna be?”

      They were ten torturous seconds for both, hearts beating out of their chests, but it only took three steps for Harry to cross the hallway, his hand sneaking behind Y/N’s back and pressing down on the doorknob as well, revealing the inside of his room. It was messy, much like her own, but it wouldn’t take too much to rip all off the tossed around bedding leaving a whole bed to themselves. 

      “You. Are. The. Devil.”

      Her smile was nothing short of wicked. “I mean you can listen to the angel on your shoulder.”

      “I’d rather listen to you.”

      Together they stepped inside, and Y/N nodded. “Making good choices already.”

      “Can’t get on your bad side, can I now?”

      “I mean you can.” Her legs hit the back of his bed and she fell down on it, Harry leaning over, resting his elbows next to her head. “But bad boys get punished.”

      His nose skimmed over hers. Now he was the one smiling like a devil. “I’ll hold you to your word. For future reference, that is.”

      That kiss was nothing like their first. This was messy, and passionate, all tongue and teeth, hands grabbing everywhere possible to get the other unclothed. Or at least that’s what Y/N was trying to do, seeing as she was pretty much naked already, and Harry was the one still wearing too much.

      Her hands pretty much ripped open the shirt. It one of his expensive Gucci ones, she was quite certain of it, but it didn’t seem like he cared, as he shrugged it off, throwing it to land somewhere on the floor.

      Y/N sighed into his mouth as her hands were now freely allowed to run over his chest, over the ink embedded into his skin, over taut muscles that relaxed under her touch, and dig into his sides in an attempt to leave her own marks on him, much like he was going to do to her. 

      “Think you can take your pants off? It’s only fair.” Y/N muttered into his mouth and his own travelled down to her cheek, then neck and to her chest.

      “You mean my trousers?”

      Her lips quirked up and she shrugged her shoulders. “No, in this case, I meant pants the British way.”

      “And if I’m going commando?”

      Y/N pressed her hand against his chest and pushed him away from her. “You had nothing underneath all day on set?”

      “No! I wouldn’t subject the dressing department to that. But underneath this.” He looked down at his jeans and smiled at her. “I do have nothing.”

      “Well then? Get on with it!”

      Both of them were giggling, as Y/N tried to unbuckle Harry’s belt, his own fingers mixing with hers as he went for the zipper and the button. He nudged his head towards her. “Your socks and pants come off as well. Or we’ll be unevenly matched.”

      Y/N lifted her eyebrow, as she went for her own remaining pieces of clothing. “No socks during sex?”

      “No, what kind of a weirdo do you think I am?”

      “And if my feet get cold?” She threw them away somewhere.

      “We have a blanket.”

      As Harry removed his jeans and his own socks, Y/N slipped off the dampened piece of clothing that’d been on her, now both of them completely naked. 

      “Alright.” He leaned over her again, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and pulling them chest to chest. “Happy now?”

      Y/N deeply kissed him. “Very. But I think we can make each other even happier.”

      “Agreed,” Harry hummed. “Wanna get a taste first.” He attached his lips to her collarbones sucking a bruise there. “Can I?”

      She groaned at the feeling, knowing there be a pleasant ache that accompanied mark. “You can. Don’t have to, if you don’t want. No need to do this for me.���

      “And if it’s for me?” Harry was moving lower and lower with each word, wet tongue flicking against a perked bud, and making Y/N gasp. “What if I wanna feel you cum on my tongue, and what if I wanna do something I’ve dreamed about for months now?”

      His hands were kneading her breasts, mouth having left a trail of kisses down the middle of her stomach as it was moving towards where an ache that’d been left untreated made itself more and more prominent. 

“Then please, please, please do something, Harry.”

      “With pleasure.”

      Luckily for Y/N, she didn’t have to beg any more, as his mouth attached itself to where she wanted him most, tongue sweeping past her lower lips and licking up a broad, steady stripe.

      One of her hands went to fist into her hair and the other into Harry’s. “Shit,” she moaned. “Fuck, that feels good.”

      “Guide me.” He licked a circle around her clit. “Tell me how you like it.”

      “Mhgm, fuck, okay,” Y/N breathed out. “I – I mean you’re doing great on your own.” Her chest was heaving as if she was running a marathon, and Harry shifted her legs so that they lay over his shoulders. “But umm, like if you lick around my clit, but like really press down li – oh, fuuuuck, just like that.”

      The coil in her stomach tightened with each pass he did, just like Y/N had instructed, small tight circles just how she did with her fingers, only what took her sometimes half an hour, Harry managed to do in less than ten minutes, to have her toes curling and hands grasping anywhere they could find purchase to just keep onto something real.

      The vibrations from Harry humming sent shivers straight to her core. “What else, lovie? What else, do you like?”

      “If – if –,” Y/N panted, “if you suck on it, but like – fuck – shit! If you kinda keep a seal around my clit, that fuck! Yes!”

      The way Harry was eating her out was almost sensational, but what made it even better wasn’t that he just decided to do something and assumed, she’d like it, he asked, he wanted to learn and discover what made her tick and turn, or in this case – cum. 

      “Harry, ‘m close,” Y/N warned him, feeling the warmth slowly start to spread all throughout her body. 

      “I’ll get you there.”

      He let his lips go for a moment before slipping two of his fingers so that they pinched her clit and moved them slowly but tightly up and down it, while his tongue went to slip inside her hole, and that did it for her.

      With a gasp of air, Y/N’s eyes rolled to be back of her head, hips lifting up as euphoria exploded through her veins. Her mind went completely dizzy, and she was quite sure some drool also dribbled down the side of her mouth because she’d lost all ability to function.

      “ -o me, love,” Y/N heard as if through a fog, and then felt two soothing palms running up and down her legs. “Come back, love. There you go.”

      A drunken smile bloomed on her face, and she ran a hand down it, the same hand that’d grabbed Harry’s hair like a vice. “Fuck. You’re good, you know what you’re doing.”

      “Well, I’m certainly glad you enjoyed yourself because I thoroughly enjoyed myself.”

      She watched as he straightened out to sit on his knees, her legs still over his shoulders, cock slapping against his stomach, and when she looked down there was a wet patch on his side of the sheets, a sly grin morphing on her face. “You liked eating me out so much you came yourself?”

      “What can I say – bringing pleasure, gives me pleasure. And your cunt’s probably the sweetest I’ve ever eaten. But… do you think you’re ready for me?” Harry asked, kissing the inside of Y/N’s thighs and watching as she vigorously nodded her head, but he just smirked. “I think I need to test it out. Just to make sure.”

       “Harry,” Y/N whined as she felt his fingers skim the apex of her thighs, teasing her. 

      “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

      With that, he used one of his hands to open up her lips, his thumb pressing down on her already sensitive clit, eliciting a gasp before he allowed two fingers to skim her entrance and then slipped in.

      “Still so tight,” he said, watching as Y/N sighed and her mouth fell open, his fingers curling in a come-hither motion. “Told you needed to check if you were ready. What kind of a gentleman would I be now, if I didn’t make sure you could take it?”

      Y/N gritted her teeth. “I can take you.”

      “Don’t doubt it.” Harry left kisses along her leg, as he continued on with his movements, noting how her hips slowly started to grind down on his palm, so he pushed his fingers in deeper so that the heel of his hand could rest against her clit, making the pleasure intensify. “But I’d never forgive myself if I hurt you when all I wanna do is give you pleasure. And you weren’t stretched out enough. Not yet at least.”

      “Oh, god, Harry,” Y/N groaned, one arm thrown over her eyes as his fingers hit just the right spot.

      “That’s it? Right there?”

      “Yes, right there,” she moaned. “Just. Fuck! Just don’t stop, please, don’t stop.”

      “Gonna cum again?”

      “Yes, just – just curl your fingers and twist them a bit more.”

      And much like the first time, a couple more times was all it took. Her orgasm was even more powerful than the previous and fully knocked her breath out of her lungs. Her legs fell open around his shoulders, stomach and chest spasming from the intensity. 

      Gentle fingers skimmed up and down Y/N’s arms and featherlight kisses fluttered over her breasts, then chest, neck and finally were peppered across her cheeks.

      “Kinda spaced out on me there. You alright? Not too much?”

      “ ’M – I’m good. But I’m pretty sure you’ve killed me.”

      Harry chuckled, and Y/N leaned her head to the side so she could press a kiss against the closest of the swallow tattoos. “Hopefully not. I still wanna take you out on that date.”

      Her eyes landed on Harry’s left hand’s ring finger, where a golden band still laid. 

      “Oh, yeah.” He lifted the digits, still covered in her cum before pushing them past his lips and licking them clean. “Forgot to remove it. Hope the prop guys don’t kill me.”

      She hated how his eyes sparkled, absolutely knowing what that sight did to her, how it made her stomach flutter and heart thunder against her ribs. Y/N was sure with the force it was pounding, they’d crack. 

      “Well, if they don’t, I will.” She pulled him down, nails raking on his skin, dragging to rest on his ass as they bit into it. “Now get inside me.”

      “Condom.”

      “No, ‘m on the pill.”

      “I’m clean, I swear, but it’s still not a hundred per cent safe.”

      Y/N shook her head. “I’ll buy the morning-after pill. Just need you inside.”

      “You sure?” Harry placed a strand of hair behind her ear. 

      “Yeah. I mean I’m clean, and uh… I just wanna feel you.”

      He’d cum once already, and Harry would be dammed if he did it again before having the chance to know how heaven feels like. As gently as possible, he took himself, giving a few strokes before nudging the tip against Y/N’s clit, her sharp inhale stalling him until she nodded. 

      Her nails dug into his biceps, as he finally slipped inside her, making both of them moan at the feeling. Even with all of the stretching out he’d done with his fingers, and the two orgasms he’d drawn from her, the slickness helping everything to be easy and smooth, Y/N still felt a little sting.

      Harry’s head dropped to Y/N’s shoulders and even from under him, she could feel his thighs and stomach shaking, as he tried to hold his composure and give her a little bit of time to adjust.

      A couple of deep breaths later, she tapped his ribs. “You can move now.”

      “ ‘ya sure?”

      “Mhm,” Y/N nodded her head and pecked his lips reassuringly. “Please.”

      His dishevelled and sweaty hair shook as he nodded and slowly drew back his hips so that just the tip of his cock remained in her before gliding back inside. The sight alone was more than enough to make both of them explode, but they wanted to last longer than thirty seconds, especially for their first time together. There’d be quickies for later, now they wanted to have a proper shag.

      Bit by bit, Harry’s pace quickened, pearls of sweat gliding down his skin and dampening the sheets below them, much like it was with Y/N. Her leg slid up to rest around his hips, giving him a better angle and more leverage for him to strike the right spot, as he pushed her knee to rest against her chest, Y/N’s head falling back to the pillow.

      Her insides were shaking from the pleasure, and it was like an invisible force was pushing down on her chest, as she struggled for a proper breath. “Harry,” she dragged out his name, the word turning into a high-pitched whine.

      “I know,” he responded in the same breathless voice. He could feel her tighten around him and wasn’t sure just how much longer he’d be able to keep up the pace. “Touch yourself ‘f me, lovie. C’mon, use those fingers.”

      Y/N did as she was told. It didn’t give her that butterfly feeling like it’d happened when they’d been Harry’s, but it did make her cum faster, and the sensation of her gushing around his cock made him lose all self-control and he spilled inside.

      It wasn’t enough for Y/N, but she guessed she needed to settle for it. She knew that nothing really ever touched in the universe, that the closest atoms ever come to touching one another is when their wave packets overlap, much like she and Harry were now overlapping, his body lying on top of hers, skin sweaty and frame trembling as he came down from his own high.

      “I uh,” Y/N cleared her throat, finger tracing the outline of one of the butterfly in the middle of Harry’s chest. “When the people came to get my stuff, I umm, asked them to take your rainbow cardigan. Wanted something that smelled like you, so I didn’t feel so alone. Was the first thing I put on when I got out of my hospital gown.”

      She felt his body rumble with laughter and a kiss being pressed to her forehead. “I know. Saw Anna stash it inside the suitcase. I uh, I was the one who also put in one of my sweaters. Know how cold you always get.”

      She hid her smile against his collarbones. “Thank you. For thinking of me.”

      “ 'M always thinking of you… Will you knit me one though?”

      Y/N raised her eyebrow. “Knit you one?”

      “Yes. I know you knit –“

      “Everyone knits nowadays.”

      Harry drew himself back a bit, and she pushed away the matted down strands from his forehead, wiping away the sweat from underneath his green eyes as well. “Yes, but the point is – there’ll be a million other Gucci shirts and sweaters and cardigans. But I’d like to have one-of-a-kind made by you. So, I have something to sleep next to when you’re not next to me.”

      Y/N ran a finger along his jawline, biting away her grin. “It’ll probably have mistakes. I’m not that good at it. ‘M not a professional.”

      “Exactly.” Harry tilted her head up with a finger and their eyes met. “Which is why it’ll be perfect.”

      “The arms will most likely be different lengths in the end.”

      “Don’t worry, darling.” He pecked her lips before hugging her and not letting go. “It’s flawless for me.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

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A/N: My tags are always open :)

P.S. please don’t repost my work without specific written permission onto other platforms :)

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 125.5 Accidental Bonding (Part Five)

(You can start at Part One, if you’d like.)

Harry really liked the chasing down criminals part of his job.

Blood pumping through his veins, adrenaline surging; he loved the way it felt to get to do the action part of his job. He and Draco were assigned to be part of a team that was raiding an illegal potions ring and the criminals were not giving up easily.

Spells flew through the air, sizzling and sparking, and Harry found himself locked in a duel with one man in particular, sending spells zipping back and forth, blocking and parrying. He was so focused on taking this guy down that he lost track of everything else for a moment.

It was a foolish mistake and he only realized exactly how foolish when Draco shouted, "Potter! Look out!"

His awareness came online just as Draco barreled into him, knocking him out of the way of a stunner coming from the man he'd been dueling and a man who'd been sneaking behind him.

As he caught his balance, he saw Draco absorb the impact of the spells and crumple to the ground.

His vision went white around the edges as panic clawed at his throat. "Stupefy!" he roared, aiming first at the man he'd been dueling who immediately fell to the ground, then following it up with a second, "Stupefy," shot at the man who'd been coming up behind him.

The second man's shield shattered when Harry's spell hit it and he was knocked out cold, too.

"Draco," Harry said, kneeling next to him and casting a shield charm around them. He rolled the other man onto his side, finding him completely unconscious. "Anderson!" he shouted to the Auror who was closest to them as she disarmed her opponent. "I've got to get him out of here."

She nodded, "There's only a few more anyway."

Harry lifted Draco into his arms and apparated straight to St. Mungo's.

(Read more below the cut)

He staggered as he landed, he'd never been the best at apparation and the added weight of Draco's limp body didn't help. "Help," he said, tripping toward the desk.

"You're Harry Potter," the witch on duty said.

"Yes," he replied. "And this is my partner and he needs help."

A handful of healers had been attracted by the raucous by this point and Draco was quickly lifted from his arms and taken into a room as Harry followed, explaining what happened.

"I'm going to have to ask you to wait outside," one of the healers said once he'd finished telling them about the stunners he'd been hit with and then she closed the door without giving him a chance to reply.

He collapsed into the chair across from the room, his heart beating too fast and his pulse loud in his ears. This wasn't supposed to have happened. He wasn't a child; people weren't supposed to get hurt for him anymore.

His chest felt too tight and he couldn't seem to draw a deep enough breath; it felt like an eternity before the door opened and three of the healers emerged. "He's going to be fine," the first said.

"He'll be sore for a few days," the second woman added.

"But he'll make a full recovery," the last said.

Harry nodded, "Can I see him?" he rasped.

The fourth healer emerged, "He's been asking for you," she replied. "He's quite keen to see you, too."

He rose quickly and entered Draco's room without another thought for the healers that had just saved the other man's life.

"Hey," Draco murmured, voice sounding a bit hoarse. "Are you alright?"

"Am I alright?" Harry repeated as he took Draco's hand in his, letting the bond sooth his frayed nerves, "You're the one who got hit by two stunners. You utter idiot."

"Well, I couldn't let our precious savior get hit." And Harry knew he was teasing but it sparked something irrational inside of him.

"Don't," he whispered. "Godric, Draco, that was terrifying. You can't do that for me."

"As if you wouldn't have done the exact same thing," Draco huffed.

He shook his head, "It's different."

"It's really not," the other man replied.

"I can't have people I love getting hurt and dying for me, Draco," he hissed. "I can't-"

"Potter," Draco said firmly, "Get a hold of yourself. This is the bond talking. Don't you see that?"

"It's not!" he protested.

Shaking his head he replied, "It is. You just said that I was a person you love. You don't love me."

Harry blinked, he supposed he had said that, "I mean as a friend, obviously," he said. "Like I love Ron or Hermione," he shrugged, "Or Neville or Luna or-"

"Yes, I don't really need to listen to the whole list," Draco said, cutting him off. "But the point stands that you don't really love me. Potter, I know it's hard but you have to try to separate whatever the bond is pushing on you from what you actually feel."

"What if I actually feel that?"

"You don't."

He scowled at the other man, "You're so fucking irritating."

"Better," he replied, relaxing back against the pillows. "The head healer will be in to clear me soon. You can stay if you want or you can go pick up dinner for us and meet me at home," he added hopefully.

"Fine," he replied, not really able to deny the other man anything at this point. "What are you in the mood for?"

"Curry," Draco said immediately, obviously already imagining that Harry would say yes.

He nodded and gave Draco's hand one more squeeze, "I'll see you at home. Shoot me a patronus if you need anything else, yeah?"

Draco nodded through a yawn.

And it was only as Harry was walking out that he realized he'd referred to Draco's house as home and really felt that way about it.

He couldn't help but wonder how much of this was the bond and how much was just him. The line was getting blurrier by the day.

-----------

Part 4 | Part 6

[havin-a-wee]

Appointment (Doctor's Orders Part 2)

read part 1 here

send me a request here

masterlist

pairing: gynecologist!harry x reader/doctor!harry x reader

word count: 4.7k

warnings: the filthiest of filth. like im serious this is basically pure smut.

its finally here! im in love with the way this turned out and i hope you guys are too! i got a few requests for this, and im actually really liking these two characters, so lemme know if you want me to make a series out of this!

Y/N's texts are in italics

Harry's texts are in bold

You felt like a kid in a candy store as you skipped out of the building, being welcomed by a setting sun. You weren’t just skipping out of excitement though, it was also because if you walked normally the shaking of your legs would be extremely noticeable. Luckily, when you arrived you had managed to find a parking spot nearby, so it didn’t take you long to make your way to the small black car that you recently purchased for yourself.

A small noise signaled when you unlocked the car, and you slipped into the driver’s seat quickly, shutting the door as you sat down.

You let yourself slouch, your back hitting the leather seat and a heavy exhale pushing through your flared nostrils. Finally, you had a moment to take in the events that just took place, and the excitement and nervousness flowed through your brain. Luckily, there was no regret swirled in with your feelings, although you were sure there wouldn’t be. Okay, maybe it wasn’t the ideal situation to have your first orgasm, but if this was how Harry would make his way into your life, you couldn’t complain. You closed your eyes and sighed, the post-orgasmic haze you’ve heard so much about finally settling in. In the darkness a smiling face appeared, and you grinned as well at the detailed picture of Harry your mind had concocted.

Suddenly, you sat up with a gasp, gripping the gear shift with your clammy hand. You had just remembered about the small piece of paper sitting in your pocket. The piece of paper with the number of the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen written on it. He had told you to text him when he got home, so obviously you had to get home as fast as possible.

Having been driving since you were 16, the motions were second nature, and the only thought you had to put into it was when you were checking to see if there was anyone in the way before you backed out of your parking spot.

Your apartment was only 10 minutes away, and you spent those 10 minutes half paying attention to the road, half thinking about the man that had his fingers inside of you. The thought in itself was causing arousal to pool in your already soiled panties. The expensive lingerie was undoubtedly going to end up in the trash, but you’d rather lose a pair of panties than lose a chance with Harry.

You pulled into your designated spot in the parking garage attached to your apartment building, and ran so quickly to the elevator that you almost tripped on your own feet. Thankfully the silver doors slid open without delay, and you swiftly stepped into the small area. Your manicured finger frantically pushed on the ‘door close’ button. The last thing you needed was someone walking into the elevator with you, seeing your bright red complexion and flushed features. Much to your relief, that didn’t happen, and the elevator lifted you up to the third floor. Objectively, the elevator was incredibly quick. However, in your needy state it felt so slow as if you were riding the shell of a turtle. The loud dinging pulled you back into reality, your mind wandering. You were thinking about what Harry’s hands felt like, and what they would feel like on the parts of your body that he hadn’t gotten to touch.

Yet.

You fumbled with your keys, attempting to grip your phone at the same time. After a bit of struggling, the rigged piece of metal slid into the slot on the doorknob, the door swinging open after you twisted the key. When you tried to remove the key from the lock, it stayed in place, pulling you backwards and almost making you fall.

You smiled at your own clumsiness, not focused enough to allow embarrassment to develop throughout you. Again jiggling the key, it slipped out of the lock and you quickly pushed the door closed using your back. You were left leaning up against the wooden door, flipping your phone screen to face you and sticking your hand in your pocket. You fished around in the small cavity, your fingers locating the small piece of paper that was making you so giddy. You punched the scribbled numbers into your contact app with haste.

Although you wanted to text him more than anything, you reasoned with yourself for a second. Instead of clicking at the keys on your screen, you picked your head up, disconnecting it from the bright touch screen in your hand.

Sucking in a deep breath, you turned back to the phone, satisfied with your attempt to calm yourself.

Hi Harry, it’s Y/N.

Instead of immediately going for something sexual, you wanted to start off the conversation normally. Also, there was the fact that you had no idea what he was actually looking for by giving you his number. His response came quicker than you could of ever expected, the typing bubble popping up seconds after the delivered sign appeared underneath your text.

Hi! I’m glad you actually texted me, because honestly I thought you wouldn’t.

Why would you think that? I would have to be pretty shitty to do something like that with you and then ditch.

I promise I don’t think you’re like that, it’s just the whole thing happened it slightly odd circumstances haha

It’s totally okay I get it, but I definitely don’t want that to be the only time something like that happens ;)

You were feeling bold, now sitting on your bed removing the heeled white boots you wore to match your outfit.

I’m glad you feel that way, because I feel the same. Just curious, when exactly would you want to do “something like that” again?

You giggled while reading his text, practically hearing the pauses of shyness that he would take if he said it in person.

As soon as you want to.

I’m sitting in my car right now about to go home, but I could make a pitstop if you asked politely..

Will you please come over and take care of me Daddy?

You cringed as soon as your finger hit the send button. Sexting was definitely not your forte, and in the heat of the moment you had forgotten that you hadn’t indulged in that kink with him the first time.

Who knew you could be so dirty love?

Send me your address. I'll be there asap.

You tapped away at the keys on your phone, sending him your information and you saw that he read it, but didn’t respond, clearly driving to you already.

Your panties were absolutely ruined at this point, and you made the decision to take them off, gliding the lacy white panties down your thighs and calves. When they fell on the floor, you picked your feet up to remove them from the leg holes, leaning over to pick up the panties with your hand. You wanted to show them to Harry, show him how messy he made you.

You clenched your thighs together, your core pulsing like a second heartbeat. A small whine slipped past your lips, and your eyes widened at your own actions. You had never been this aroused or needy in your life, and while these feelings were new, they weren’t scary like a lot of new feelings were for you. It was exciting, and just thinking about Harry rushing over to you because he wanted you so badly was sending fire through your veins. No one had ever wanted you so much, and you have never wanted someone this much. And it’s exhilarating.

After a painfully long time sitting on the edge of your bed anxiously, a loud knock on the door had you standing up in a flash, sauntering over to the door with unnatural speed. Your arousal began to drip down onto your thighs now that you were standing. The slickness between them had them sliding against one another, but the feeling was overshadowed by the rapid beating of your heart. You gripped the doorknob so tightly that your knuckles turned white, twisting your hand and pulling the door open.

“Ello love.”

He stood in the doorway with his hand resting on the top of the doorframe, towering over you. He had that sexy smirk plastered on his face and you ran your eyes up and down his figure, taking in the man before you. He was wearing a black t-shirt, which was loose but tight enough that his pecs were defined in the shirt. He had on a pair of black dress pants which the t-shirt was tucked into. There were tattoos littering his arms, which you hadn’t seen before because of the lab coat he wore during your appointment.

You thought he couldn’t get any hotter than before, but the person in front of you proved you wrong.

“Hi,” you murmured timidly, your boldness from the texting having disappeared. “Come in,” you stepped to the side, opening the door wider so he could step into your apartment. You closed the door, and against your better judgement you turned to the kitchen, trying to find that desperation that had allowed you to throw away all of your anxieties. “Do you want water or something?” You weren’t sure what to say, so you went with the default offer for a drink.

“No.”

You spun around, looking at Harry and tilting your head in confusion.

“I want you.”

He took a long stride forward and placed his large hand on the soft skin of your cheek, leaning in and connecting your lips with his. His lips were as soft as cloud, and you kissed him back with just as much vigor. The kiss was passionate, mixing moans into the drafty air. You sucked his bottom lip and bit down lightly, and a low growl bubbled up from his throat.

Your heart skipped a beat when his tongue swirled around yours. You jumped slightly at the impact of the wall on your back, Harry pushing you into the cold drywall.

Finally pulling away to allow breathing, you and Harry kept your foreheads pressing on each other, leaning some of his weight on you.

“Y’so beautiful darlin, reckon yeh the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

His hot breath hit your face when he breathed, and you were squirming underneath him.

“I could say the same for you,” you huffed out, refusing to break eye contact.

“Thank you baby,” he cooed, placing his veiny hand on your plump cheek and running his thumb across it. The tip of his finger reached your swollen lips, and he pushed his large thumb pass them. You eagerly sucked on the digit, hollowing your cheeks and treating it like you would his cock.

His free hand had found a home on your waist, but he hadn’t moved it since he initiated the kiss, and you were getting frustrated. You reached down and placed your hand atop his, looking up through your eyelashes into his emerald eyes. They’re piercing, and you knew that one stare from him would have any girl on her knees.

The tops of his cold rings touched your fingers when you peeled his hand from its strong grasp and your waist. You were looking at him with innocent doe eyes while you lifted his significantly larger hand and placed it back on your side, but this time at the same level as your breasts. He broke the deep eye contact you were sharing to look down at his hand, slowly shifting it to cup you through your thin tank top.

“M’baby girl is desperate fo me huh?” Harry teased you and you nodded frantically, whimpering in neediness. He pulled his finger from your wet mouth and in a split second he collided his lips with yours once again, but they didn’t remain there for long. He dragged his lips down your jaw, sucking and kissing down your neck. You tilted your head to give him better access, moaning when he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot.

His hand that you had moved was pulling and squeezing at your full breast, eventually rucking your tank top up to pinch at your budding nipple underneath. You had removed your bra when you got home, and a small smirk tugged at your face when he moaned at the realization. A sheen of sweat was glistening on his forehead and you lifted your arms straight in the air, giving him permission to remove your top. He pulled it over your head hastily, only breaking the kiss for a moment when the fabric covered your face. You didn’t see what he did with the top, your focus diverted to the feeling of his lower torso. You had removed the hem of his shirt from underneath his pants, only leaving the back part tucked because you couldn’t reach it.

You splayed your hands over his hardened abs, and he snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you closer in response. His head was buried in the crook of your neck, leaving hickey after hickey on the silky skin. He nipped and licked at your skin as if you were a popsicle, sweet and refreshing.

“Daddy, please -- off!” Your moans cut off your words, rendering you unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Y’want me to take my shirt off baby? Such a naughty little minx y’are.”

Despite his teasing, he pulled away from you to grab the bottom of his shirt and ripped it off in one fell swoop.

You barely had time to take in the tattoos on his chest, only being able to identify a large butterfly right in the middle before he looped his arms around your waist. “Jump.” His command was quiet, but you heard it perfectly clear.

You bent your knees and jumped up, his arms following your motions. You lifted your legs and wrapped them around his bare torso. You hugged him tightly, your arms wrapping around his neck and sinking your face into his soft brown curls. His hair smelled of expensive shampoo, and you indulged in the sweet scent. “Behind you,” you whispered, directing him to your bedroom.

Without a second of hesitation, he turned around and carried you to the bedroom. You took it upon yourself to place sloppy kisses on his neck, giving him the same hickeys he had given you.

You giggled when he bent over the bed, dropping you from about an inch off the red comforter covering your bed.

“Don’t know why y’laughin’ pet, cause m’about to fuck yeh till yeh can’t walk.” You gasped when the dirty words registered in your head, and he sported a shit-eating grin on his face. His hands grasped your thighs and he ran them up and down, getting dangerously close to your core. You were writhing under his grasp, pleas for him to do something tumbling out of your mouth. “Patience baby.” He didn’t look up at you when he spoke, instead hiking your skirt up to get a look at your sopping cunt. “Look at you, s’wet already and I’ve barely touched you.”

“All for you, only for you Daddy.” Your words were wailed, every muscle in your body aching for a release. He traced his warm fingers along the crease of your thigh, right next to the place you needed him most.

“Gonna let me have a taste baby? Wanna taste yeh so bad.” He finally looked back up at you, but only for a second before his eyes connected with your glistening pussy again.

“N-no.”

Although you greatly wanted him to put his mouth on you, there was one thing you were craving more.

“No?” His demeanor changed immediately, removing his hands from your body and sitting on his knees between your calves. He removed every source of physical contact you were sharing, and you realized that he took your words in a way you hadn’t intended.

“Still want you Daddy, just want something else.” The second part of your sentence was murmured, and you turned your head to face away from him out of embarrassment. Out of your peripheral vision, you could see him raise an eyebrow, placing his hands by your shoulders and returning to his place hovering above you.

“Look at me little girl. Y’sure yeh don’t want me to taste yeh?”

You followed his command after a beat, looking at his disheveled state.

“What do yeh want baby? M’feelin generous today.” He was speaking in pants, his curls sticking to the perspiration-slick surface of his forehead.

“Wanna taste you Daddy. Please lemme-”

You reached down to unbuckle his belt, but he caught your hand before you could.

“Thas’ what this is all about? Such a slut f’me that you’d rather taste me then lemme taste you?” His hand moved to caress your cheek, running his finger across your saliva coated lip.

“Yes, wanna suck you off so bad Daddy.” You pushed out your lip forming an adorable pout, giving him your best puppy eyes and making sure he saw the tears of desperation welling in your lust blown eyes.

“Alright, alright, how do yeh wanna do it baby?” Instead of responding, you grasped the back of his firm thighs, pulling him up towards your face. He got the hint, shifting his knees to sit by your chest. You were now face to face with his very prominent bulge, and your mouth watered at the sight. Even though you wanted to unbuckle his belt yourself, he did it for you, allowing his rock hard erection to spring free after rolling down his boxers.

He stroked himself a few times, and you lifted your head to try and get him in your mouth. He pushed your shoulder down, and made it clear that he wanted to be in control. Finally, after much anticipation he placed his cock on the tip of your tongue, which you had stuck out for him to do exactly that.

You accepted it eagerly, sucking harshing on the tip of his cock. He moaned lowly, tilting his head backwards in ecstasy. You ran your tongue along his sensitive slit, reveling in the filthy noises and expletives that spilled out of his sweet pink lips.

Once you were satisfied with your teasing, you took him in your mouth about halfway, stopping before you gagged. Your hand made its way to the base of his thick shaft, pumping the part of him that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You bobbed your head up and down his cock, your tongue twisting and twirling around his member. You made sure to pay extra attention to his tip, giving it kitten licks when you needed to take a breather. Each time you took him back in your mouth, you pushed yourself further down, this time gagging after pushing him all the way down your throat. He stopped his groans of pleasure to look down at you, and he swore he could cum from just seeing you under him with smeared mascara and teary eyes. “Y’ok baby?” You nodded with him still in your mouth. You stilled for a moment, trying to think of a way to tell him that you wanted him to fuck your mouth. His hand was holding your hair out of your face as a makeshift hair tie, and you decided to tap on the wrist of that hand to give him permission. He looked down at you and raised his eyebrows, a silent gesture to assure you were okay with it. You nodded, his cock moving up and down with your head. He didn’t need any more instructions, pushing your head down on his shaft instantly.

You choked and gagged as he took control, moving your head up and down his thick cock. “Doin’ so well f’me baby, taking m’cock like a good little slut.” His purrs of approval were raspy, moan and gasps chopping his sentence up. Periodically, he pulled you off of him, allowing you to catch your breath before plunging back down on his member again.

The sudden pulsing of his cock inside your mouth was a wordless praise, and you were incredibly proud that you were able to bring him to his orgasm as quickly as you did.

He pulled you off of him again, and you heaved a few times as you filled your lungs back up with oxygen. But unlike before, he didn’t bring you back onto his cock, even pulling you back when you attempted to put him back in your mouth yourself. You cried out when he repositioned himself between your legs, back in the place he was when you were first on the bed.

All you wanted to do was finish him off, but he wouldn’t let you for a reason that was unknown to you.

“Daddy!” You were about to beg and whine to finish him off but his index finger on your lips kept you from your begging.

“As much as I’d love t’watch yeh swallow m’cum, I need t’feel this gorgeous cunt of yours.”

You quivered when the bands of his icy cold rings gripped the warm, supple flesh of your inner thighs. They dug into your skin, sending a pleasurable tingling sensation throughout your body, landing in your core.

If you were horny before, there wasn’t even a word to describe how utterly turned on you were now.

Your skirt was already hiked up from before, but Harry wanted it off fully. He ran his fingers across the waistband, finally finding the zipper and unzipping it faster than you could blink. “Bloody hell baby,” he grunted, taking a moment to admire your fully naked body squirming under him, begging for him to touch you. He wished he had a camera to capture you in this state, only thinking about one thing, him.

He stood up, his feet barely hitting the floor before he yanked his pants and boxers off. He was huge, and you stared at his prick in awe, even though you’ve been looking at it. His size was truly difficult to take in, because usually a big cock is either long or thick, not both. But Harry was both and some, and you were convinced that you would be content sucking on it for the rest of your life.

Distracted by your own dirty thoughts, you weren’t paying attention to what Harry was doing, only being shocked out of your haze when he ran two of his fingers across your sticky folds. He pulled his fingers away as your body jolted, surprised by the sudden contact. Strings of your arousal connected your cunt to his fingers, and he cursed under his breath. His fingers were covered in your juices and he stuck the digits in his mouth, sucking happily when he finally got to taste your sweet, sweet nectar.

He hummed constantly when he took the fingers out of his mouth. “Taste even sweeter than I imagined, baby. Could eat y’up all day long.”

You mewled and kicked your legs, tired of all of the teasing. “Daddy... just want you inside me!” He hushed you and reassured you that he would take care of you, leaning over your body and positioning himself on top of you. He lined himself up with you, his tip bumping your puffy clit. You whimpered and Harry took the message, finally pushing his rock hard cock into your soaking wet core.

“Fuck -- Daddy you’re s-so big,” you whined. He tilted forward, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

It took a minute for him to bottom out, Harry pushing in slowly to minimize the sting. There was a bit of pain as your body conformed to fit him inside of your tight little hole.

“Fuck baby, y’so fucking tight, might come just from this.” He had a silly smile on his face, but you both knew there was no joke laced between his words. He latched his darkened lips on an indent by your collar bone, nipping and licking on the skin while he waited for the approval to move.

“Move. Please move.”

The first thrust was hard and fast, he pulled almost fully out of you and then slammed him hips back up into you.

“Shit!”

Just like when you had him in your mouth, you could feel the thick veins running along his sizable shaft. He repeated the same type of movement for the next few thrusts, pounding into you and drawing back out over and over.

“So,” “Fuckin,” “Beautiful,”

Each of his words preceded a snapping of his hips, slamming into you particularly hard after calling you beautiful.

“Feels- feels so good, so good Daddy.” You were sobbing with pleasure. His thick cock filled you up so good it was like he was made for you.

“Didn’t even think it was possible f’someone t’be this tight baby. You’re takin’ meh so well sweet girl, so so well.” He found a rhythm, snapping his hips into yours, your velvety walls engulfing his cock perfectly. Watching himself disappear inside your tight hole egged Harry on even more, as well as the noises that your juices made when he rammed himself inside your pretty little cunt. His thumb was pressed against your clit, circling the overly sensitive bundle of nerves. Pleasure was coursing through your veins, the firey burning feeling better than anything you had ever felt before.

Your hands were spread across his back, nails digging crescent shaped divots into the skin. Each time your fingers dug into the expanse of his back he growled, so you did it after each thrust. His lips were everywhere, kissing and licking all of the exposed skin that he could reach.

“Daddy..”

He took your pebbled nibble into his mouth, unable to resist after watching your tits bounce when he pushed himself in and out of you.

“So good baby, s’like y’were made fo me,” he cooed, your reply dying in your throat when he pressed his lips to yours.

You bit each other’s lips and swirled tongues like you had done at the beginning of the night. After a minute of rough kisses, he pulled away, and you both gasped for air. You could tell his thrusts were getting sloppier, and his cock twitched inside of you like it had when you took him in your mouth.

“Was made for you, just you.”

“Thas’ my good girl.”

His hand instinctively reached for your throat, and you watched his cheek heat up when he realized what he had done. But you grabbed his hand and placed it back on your throat. “Please,” you croaked out, desperate for him to choke you and make you see stars.

He smirked and obliged, pressing on the sides of your throat but avoiding your windpipe. Euphoria overtook your body at the new found sensation and the knot that had formed in your stomach was threatening to come loose. The tightness in your stomach translated to your center, and you clenched tightly around Harry.

“Y’gonna come? Can feel y’squeezin me love, lets come together yeah?” You gave him a tiny nod of agreement, too weak from your impending orgasm to give him a better response. “Let go f’me baby.”

The knot in your stomach uncoiled rapidly, bursting inside of you and sending shudders throughout every inch of your body. Seconds later Harry released inside of you, his hot ropes of cum painting your walls. Your eyesight got blurry and white spots clouded your vision as Harry worked you both through your climaxes. You thought the orgasm he gave you at your appointment was strong, but this one sent you to another plane of reality.

His movements slowed and he removed his thumb from your swollen button, which you were thankful for due to your hypersensitivity.

When you finally came back to reality, Harry was above you, pulling himself out of you. You placed your hand on his cheek, diverting his green eyes to look at yours. “Stay in, please?” He simply nodded, pushing back into you fully. He was already hardening again, but who could blame him? Your face alone was enough to get him rock hard and leaking precome.

He rolled you two to your sides, cuddling into each other’s bare chests. You shared no more words, both of you drifting off to a blissful sleep within minutes. But you didn’t need to ask him to know that this was the first time you slept together, but most definitely not the last.