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sandsorghum · 2 years

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The fic I've always wanted to write I don't know what to say about this one because it means a lot. Maybe once I get some distance, I've spent too much time with it. I'm just glad to have made it for Nanami's birthday, under the wire. But also it's unbeta'd. The format is new for me too, sort of a slow-burn triptych, best thought of as snapshots. I want to experiment more with it in the future, so I hope it does well. Please let me know your thoughts! Thread Count Genre: Slow Burn, Romance, Friends to Lovers WC: 5.3k

Ache, behind the eyes. Throbbing. Fizzling fiber optics.

Static hissing. Constant haunting. Pelting silver sibilance. The ghosts chorus against asphalt.

Chill in the air. Condensing upon dewy brows. He tilts his head ever so slightly. Satin relief, the sheets are cool too. Except in one spot.

Warmth already leaching into his fingers. He flexes them against his palm, to assess how sticky he's made the bed.

This thread count is too high.

Shit.

"Relax."

His body refuses, does the opposite. Freezes as he hears his name dissolve into a warning. Something fractal spreading in his lungs, spidery and sharp, an icicle breaking off between his ribs as he struggles to sit up.

A hand settles in the crease of his elbow, touch no longer tentative. Firm as the voice, equally familiar. Too familiar.

"It's okay, Akemiuchi's loyalty program is gonna guarantee me a decent discount on the next duvet."

"I'm-"

"It's a good chance to rack up those points. There's this crocheted quilt I've been eyeing? It's the cutest thing ever. I'll show it to you next time."

Nanami winces, sweet intentions souring into an implication. An imposition you've already accepted as inevitable. He's the worst. He had a few moments of consciousness to spare, he knows he did, could have called Ijichi or Shoko even, directly, but no he'd wasted those final flickering seconds to drag himself over here.

The last thing he remembers before slumping over was your welcome mat. Rubber now, instead of fabric.

He can't keep doing this. Not to you.

"Phone." He rasps.

You fluff the pillows behind his head. "It's charging."

A rectangle glares in the periphery of his slits. 3%. It'll do. Ijichi's prompt with calls, especially those coming in at this hour.

" - a real viper's den of cables, took me a while to find yours. I told you you should switch to Android, that port design is super dumb - Hey."

Fingers clamp down on his wrist before he can even reach the nightstand.

"It's late-"

"I was editing a presentation anyway. Clearly we've both got issues with work boundaries."

His arm stretches out again, sinews shrieking their protest, bones creaking their own echo. He ignores them. Deft fingers skate up his swollen biceps, insistent. There's a pressure at his shoulder and he flinches. When had you gotten so strong?

When had he gotten this weak?

"Crap - sorry. That hasn't healed yet? Or is it new..."

He doesn't dignify you with a response, but the tight seam of his lips reveals enough. Nanami's further given away by the loose slump of his limbs. Defeated and betrayed by the mutiny of his howling muscles.

His body sings its triumph with a fresh pang rolling hot through his gut, crimson banner unfurling over ragged veins. He'll be damned if he admits to such a vicious victory. Nanami sucks in a breath instead.

"Fine, don't tell me."

There's something clipped in your voice, something abrupt in the way you stand and stride to the bathroom. A cabinet creaks, but that's all. Nanami watches the silhouette of your hands meld into the shadows to retrieve something off a shelf.

The lowest shelf.

There isn't any other sound besides the soft shuffle of your returning footsteps. Well, of course you'd know where everything is in your own home. Including the things you rarely had a use for. You hadn't even bothered to switch the lights on. Nanami wishes you did. Wishes he could confirm your dry eyes and blank face, numb and neutral as you moved through the motions of getting medicine for a man who has soaked your front step scarlet again.

Routine, right?

The tub thuds against the table, crisp and resolute.

"There's a quarter of the salve left," you mutter. You aren't looking at him. You wouldn't be able to see him in this dark anyway.

"If it isn't enough, I've another jar. Top drawer. Aspirin's there too."

Easy access, even blind, Nanami thinks. The room's still swathed in navy blues. He's invisible in this ink. It feels safe to smile, just for a moment.

"Thank you."

Your head tilts up and his mouth hardens with restraint once more. They were just two words, you couldn't possibly have detected anything beyond civility in them.

But there's a suspicion, once tightly coiled, now starting to slither from the base of his spine and it's this: People don't unquestioningly accept their ex-colleagues into their apartments at 3am to bleed into their bed, out of sheer politeness.

A sliver of a pause before you say,"You're welcome."

You move to the door.

Nanami exhales, the exhaustion deflates and the stubbornness exsanguinates as his bones relearn their weight. Your palm meets the handle and you let go of the breath you didn't know you were holding. But it hitches when you hear the grunt of your name. You glance over your shoulder.

"Akemiuchi, was it?" An index prods at your comforter.

"Uh. Yeah?"

The confusion furrowing your brows is clear in Nanami's mind, he knows just how those lines will knit and scrunch your puzzled expression. He knows, even at a distance, with you all the way across the room how you'll shrug and shake your head at his apparently random question.

"Okay."

"Okay. Rest well, Nanami."

Then you're gone, and it's safe now.

It's a famous brand, there's a branch three blocks down from his neighbourhood. He's seen the quilt, a recent addition to the autumn collection. An elaborate fuss of mint and pastels, taking pride of place in the storefront window. It's got tassels too.

Gaudy, unabashedly.

Nanami closes his eyes and his mouth twitches.

ii.

He shows up at your doorstep tonight, a night of thunderstorms, looking like an envoy of Zeus and giving you about as much warning. His always imposing silhouette had crumpled in a crack of lightning.

When the skies next belched and blanched, you'd seen his clothes drenched with rain and red. And a goopy violet you'd never seen before.

"What do you tell people?" you had asked early on, not expecting any proper answer. You were right not to.

"They don't ask."

"You don't let them." It's neither question nor confrontation, but you get confirmation in his silence, eyes downcast amidst the downpour.

He'd had the decency to be mollified about the dramatics.

You were people to him too. He'd given you the same answer he gave everyone else. You could tell how well it was rehearsed, even through his grimaces, mumbling his way through something about Private security.

Unlike others however, you weren't polite enough to accept his excuses. Especially not when he dripped all over your carpet.

"I'll replace it," he shudders, heaving himself against the edge of your bathtub.

"It's $3000," you pointed out, kneeling and pressing a towel to his side. He arches a brow, not so much shocked by the hefty price tag, but by your lavish attitude towards interior decorating. You, on the other hand, are startled by a swoosh and soon after, the chime of your phone receiving the bank's notification.

You stare at your screen, then back up at Nanami, who simply pockets his mobile with a small shrug.

Somehow, it seemed smug.

Whatever this new gig was, it paid a hell of a lot better than the previous one at which you two had met. You pull the cloth away.

The fibers are saturated scarlet, staining your fingertips. What kind of job could be worth this? Moral fetters at the expense of financial freedom, was that the trade off Nanami had made? Nanami Kento, whose resentment and disdain for Mondays was sustained throughout the week, whose bleak, sombre expression stayed whether cast under cost-cutting fluorescents or the neon glitz of Shinjuku's excess.

You remembered the distant din of middle management's chants, the chugging and choking of sycophants, all muffled by plumes of cigarette smoke escaping thin lips, and a jacket draped wordlessly over your shoulders. Sobriety never seemed to be an issue for him.

Yet, he always appeared more exhausted than his hungover colleagues, the shadows beneath his naked eyes darker and deeper than those hidden under the department head's sunglasses. Nods to decorum couldn't disguise the stench of alcohol or the slur of his speech, a nasal wheedling appealing to Nanami's efficiency as another stack of files thumped down unceremoniously before him.

You gaze at Nanami now, beneath the bright white lights of your bathroom, teetering on the edge of your tub. He looks just as tired, except now he reeks of iron, not whiskey. Liberated from a desk, still duty-bound. We all pick our poisons and our prisons, you think.

The two of you have an understanding by now. Whatever his next chapter was, that story is sealed behind a steel vault, nothing will ever rust away at its hinges. You don't care. You're just...nosy, occasionally. Fiction formed from a few bad habits.

The consternation had been there before, threatening to bubble over, acidic enough to bleach bones. Yet even then you knew, Nanami had no use for emotional effervescence.

So what could you do, but wipe away the stains and residuals? Return him smudge-free glasses so he's immaculate and impassive once more. Though there's no alternative to ignoring your instincts, the filtrates of fear never quite boiled down to what you could label mere curiosity; still corrosive, always gnawing away at you.

In the stretch of months after, in his indefinite absences, the fangs drill down to your marrow. You only muzzle its maw when Nanami reappears with gashes and abrasions and an expression masking whatever else his shredded suits can't.

And you, you've gotten pretty decent at disguising the twisted relief that comes with finding his pulse; intermittent, but in your hands. You're the worst.

"You always did have expensive taste," he comments, catching your stare before you can tunnel further down that rabbit hole.

You blink, then snap the clasps on the first aid kit and scoff, "Please, your midweek coffee bill was double my lunch budget for the month."

Your hands make quick work of the packaging.

"Even if I was buying for two," you add.

"Did you want a reimbursement? You always said it was your treat."

You roll your eyes. "Because someone always forgot to take a break. Seriously? Not even a vending machine sandwich? Nobody should be able to survive solely off six espressos."

You pause, laying out a few other implements. "The cafeteria's ciabatta is a lot better now though, after you gave them those tips. Shame you left before you saw the benefit of your feedback pay out."

"Hm."

To anyone else, the sound is non-committal. But you recognize that hum, the rich roundness hinting at his satisfaction, that a minor injustice of yeasty mediocrity had been redressed.

You recognized it, because it was rare and you'd always had to strain to hear it, replaying it in your mind to compensate for the sore dearth set by reality's quota.

"Besides, I couldn't risk our top sales lead collapsing from low blood sugar at an important stakeholders' meeting. Oh, and Shuichi's department head now, so thanks for that."

There's a suspicion of amusement which rumbles low in his chest, a sound you've heard even less frequently, and so conversely, dreamed about more. But it cuts off abruptly into a rough grunt when your fingers ghost over his ribs, swiping antiseptic. You look up sharply.

"This is even worse than-"

"It should have been you." Nanami's interruption rings mildly vexed, to your surprise. He grips your hand with a force that's even more unexpected, as he pulls it away. "You had more seniority than him."

"Yeah well, you know how it is." you mutter, fist clenching around the cotton swab before hurling it into the bin. "Apparently women my age are meant to be running nurseries, not boardrooms."

Nanami watches you fiddle with the surgical thread, spooling it through without hesitation. Meets your gaze, unclouded by worry or weariness. It had been 2am when he had turned up unannounced. And he feels your hands, reassuring warmth hovering over his wound. He nods once, and you touch skims over ruptured skin, where a fresh scar awaits to adorn his obliques.

His breath seems harsh and loud to his own ears.

"You could manage both if that's what you wanted."

"What makes you think that?"

"You're capable of a lot. Discipline and kindness."

The crescent of your eyes and lips glint brighter than the curved piece of silver weaving in and out of his flesh. It's a pleasant distraction, he'll admit that much.

"Ruthlessness too," he adds, wincing as the needle digs into a particularly tender spot.

"Go on," your smile is sardonic, both bee sting and nectar. Nanami feels a twinge in his rib cage, in his chest free from any visible bruises.

"You're beautiful."

Maybe he lost a lot more blood than he realised. He only notices his accident of sincerity when the thread is tugged tense, the needle jerking back abruptly. Then the anvil drops over his windpipe.

He glances at the gleaming point, barely quivering between your thumb and forefinger. The tremble of your lips is terribly obvious by contrast.

Desperation surges through him suddenly, a riptide of an urge to have them quake against his own, to savour your whimpers shaking against his tongue, give you a taste of your own medicine, have the pinprick of his incisors sink into where you're soft and vulnerable. You've given him countless stitches, and he hasn't left a single mark on you. It's unfair. It's cruel.

"How-" A distracting slip of pink darts out to wet your lips. The needle nips into his skin again and he has to hold back a groan.

"How is that trait relevant to being either a manager or a mother?"

Nanami grips the edge of the tub, white-knuckled as its porcelain. There's a pause. Longer than he's comfortable with, though you don't seem to notice. Or comment on it at least. Small mercies.

Then he says, "It doesn't hurt your odds."

"My odds aren't that great."

For a moment, Nanami wonders if you're still fishing for compliments. But then, dorsal finned mischief flashes in your grin and you let him off the hook.

"Most smooth-talkers aren't like you. More style than substance."

Your smile stretches wry, deprecation retreats into the furthest corners of your cheeks. "Not that I meet many of them though."

"It's difficult to find someone compatible." You lean forward, on the pretext of inspecting the knot before you snip the thread. Your hand settles on his knee. His spine stiffens into a limestone column. The caterpillars in Nanami's belly curl into tight cocoons.

"Someone who isn't intimidated by my ambitions," your fingers are feather-light, trailing up his toned hamstrings. Nanami feels the winged creatures twitch in their chrysalis.

"My desires..." Your palm curves higher, like your lips, closer to the apex of his muscled thighs. Newborn butterflies stir, damp with arousal. Nanami swallows, perhaps his spit could extinguish the sparks fluttering in his gut.

"Someone who's sensible and strong, who could hold me down long enough to..." The ridges of your knuckles have met the crest of his seams, any further and you'd feel the effect of your touch, of your smoldering eyes.

"...put a child in me." Your whisper fans the flames in his hollowed cheeks, in his skin scorching and stretched thin over the flint of his jaw, in the recesses of his throat, scratchy with kindling.

"If that's what we both wanted." It's the slightest graze of your thumb, but Nanami's already doomed by the briefest jolt of his hips. Fuck. You definitely felt that. Your eyes flicker, but by some sheer miracle, not downwards, to where the wet spot is staining and straining against his fabric and your fingers.

"Do you know someone like that, Nanami?" you murmur and he breathes hard, sees the vapour of his harsh pants slip behind your own mouth, parted and patient. Your fingers haven't moved a fraction too.

His brushes with death have sculpted his body, corded his chiseled torso with complete control, each synapse wired with lightning to assess curses, salivating for his flesh and demise.

Nanami knows the anaerobic burn of adrenaline, what it is to run on fumes into the jaws of danger, to dispatch nightmares, to delay the inevitable. Countless demons slewed in calculations of perfect precision, in single fell swoops and too close shaves.

You are the greatest peril Nanami has faced in years.

It takes every last fiber of his being, of his battered body, crafted far beyond the demands of labour and the delusions of purpose, not to buck into the threat and promise of your gentle heated hands or crush his mouth to yours.

"No," Nanami croaks. "I don't."

iii.

There's something soupy about the atmosphere tonight, thick with humidity, hot fog rolling in. The sheets stick to his clammy skin.

He doesn't remember how he got here this time.

Regret reverberates together with recognition as his cuticles clink against glass. There's the rustle of foil, conveniently within reach too. The plastic pops twice underneath his nail. The end of the row, Nanami notices.

He wonders if these are the drowsy kind, or maybe it's just a moonless night and all the shadows are melting together. Eventually he finds the silhouette he's looking for, slumped into a chair.

Nanami squints at the world's saddest mountain, gradually losing its slope. It's the blanket sliding off you. It puddles by your ankles, next to a basin of water, tinged pink and tepid by now. You shiver slightly, his eyes dart up and sure enough, there's the rag, twisted in your hands.

An exhale wheezes its way from his ribs and Nanami winces; he should know by now shallow sighs are all his sunken chest will allow. But the pain is dulling everything, pounding against his ivory dome like a petulant brat with balled fists.

His mobile - had you confiscated it? Such sly sweetness - Focus, landline then for a taxi, tip extra for the smears on the seats -

"You should be carrying an umbrella with you these days. Could probably fit one in that holster."

Your admonishment pierces through his haze, sounding less groggy than he'd hoped.

"It'd obstruct movement."

"Or try wearing a poncho, unless you're worried it ruins the lines of your suit." You stand up, retrieving a familiar looking quilt off the floor. The shipping had been free, he recollects.

"Given the latest state of your jacket however, I doubt that's a priority."

Nanami hauls himself up, or tries to. His deltoids have other ideas, and every muscle beneath them agrees. The veto is unanimous, and he grimaces.

You shuffle over, remarking, "I've been looking for a good tailor. I'm sure you have recommendations."

"Bulk orders from the department store," Nanami grunts, combating gravity as he attempts to swing his leaden legs over the bedside. You drag the duvet back over his lap and it might as well be lumber.

"Shame on you," you scoff with such force that he stops struggling for two whole seconds to look askance at you.

"Deluding some atrocious tie designer out there into thinking they have a shot in the fashion industry."

Against his better judgement, Nanami decides a snort is worth the risk. It isn't, obviously. He learns, too late, the appeal of mirth's medicinal qualities is gravely overstated.

"And if I told you they were custom pieces?" he snipes.

"Then I'd applaud whatever keeps attacking you."

A warning filters through the back of his brain, Whatever, not whoever. Suspicion alone is a lethal enough threshold to his world, he can't risk you. And yet he's here, the voice whispers. Far from an emergency.

"My assailants are probably acquainted with decent tailors."

Nanami's cynicism towards humour as a balm ebbs, watching your lips curve.

"I'm in stitches," you state, digits skimming Nanami's pectorals, skirting around the petunias starting to clot there.

"You took a dozen this time," you add, a little softer.

He lets your palm stay on his chest. "Where's my cell?"

"Down the chute."

"I'll use yours then." He brushes your hand away.

"Mine's outta juice too." A fist this time, knuckles pressed to his breastbone.

Nanami's eyes flick up to the ceiling for a moment, he's long suspended belief in heaven or gods, the gravity of his bones remind him of this; Any covenant he's made is between his cursed technique and body - more altar than temple.

"Got a pull out couch?" he asks at last.

"Oh shut up. You're staying here," you huff in disbelief and he looks at you, a Vestal Virgin with embers for irises. A braver man than him would wait for the hint of a spark.

But instead he says, "More water, please."

You nod, handing him a mug that's still warm but empty. "I'll fetch the thermos - oh, hang on. Let me rinse that out, sorry."

Nanami takes a quick sniff before passing it over. "Nicaragua?"

"Guatemala, Santa Isabel," you elaborate. "Tea's probably better for putting you down though."

"Water's fine."

You slip out into the shadows, taking the aroma of the dark roast with you. Nanami reclines against the headboard, your scent lingering in his passageways. Yet another inconvenience he's instigated. A longstanding tradition, fitting its origins. There had been a time when you insisted on oolong instead, or the superiority of Ceylon. You were convincing enough in those first few months, with your tiresome tirades and passionate grandstanding in the pantry, all before 8am. Nanami had almost attributed your bright eyes to the beverages you rigorously argued for, even as he refused to deviate from the ritual masochism of his "sad bean juice". Not so much elixir as IV drip. "That much caffeine will wreck your melatonin production," you berated him. He had no idea what you were talking about but then, neither did you. The destruction of Circadian rhythms, the annihilation of any balance beyond the kind in the books you pored over (long after your bosses had dumped them on you a quarter to 7), would never boil down to what was poured into your mug. The defeat was inevitable. Nanami told himself he didn't miss your near daily trivial one-sided debates; they just interfered with his morning reports. Still, he had stared too long at the pair of steaming takeaway cups you carried in one day. "A peace offering," you said. "Robusta. The cafe down the street has a fresh batch every Tuesday." You leaned forward, depositing them under his nose. "Here's to the grind, on our terms." A croissant wrapped in the white flag of a serviette slides next to his cup, over the grey laminate of the table. Compromise shouldn't smell this good on you, he had thought. In your kitchen he's spotted both the conical slopes of the Chemex, and your stash of pyramid pouches with their loose leaf treasures. Just one more thing he's taken away from you on a night like this. He's an aberration, an intrusion - much like the flavours infringing upon your tongue. It ought to be the routine lull of chamomile, instead it's coffee, keeping you alert; iron and tannin tangling in the air. Nanami's mind drifts to the rude awakening your taste buds must endure, wonders about the sweetness there, more hazelnut than herbal, strong or mellow, aggressive or pliant- "Here." Nanami reaches out, fingers grazing ceramic that feels like hearthstones. He finds the handle by sheer luck. The sips he takes are small and slow, tendrils of steam climbing up his sheer cliff face. Over the rim, Nanami feels you watching him absently. Your concern suspended over the ravine between the both of you, silence slack in your carabiners.

Then you murmur, "Your mouth's too hot."

His throat goes taut. "What?"

"I forgot. Now the reading won't be accurate," you sigh.

Something rolls off his shoulders when he recognises the thin beak of the thermometer outlined in your grasp. The sensation is more weighted than mere relief, Nanami can't quite name it. It's a residual sludge in his gut, turning the ground to mud as he tries to trample it.

"I'm fine."

"Liar." The mattress dips and the boulder in his belly plummets as he feels your body brush next to his. He pushes back, it's Sisyphean, your breath against his clavicle, his soles are slipping.

"What are you-"

"Last I checked," you interject, wrestling the covers over your laps, "this is my bed."

His knees buckle as you shove aside his thigh with yours.

"You'll catch this bug." The warning is futile, Nanami knows. He's already set down the mug.

Your tone takes on a solemn timbre. "An extra risk. There's no known cure for cooties either. Sorry to break it to you."

Nanami huffs through his nostrils, he ought to feel more patronized than placated. But there's a levity to your touch, gently pressing him back against the bed.

"And I really hope you're not a blanket hogger because I'll kick you out. Injured or not."

There's already too little space between you and him but Nanami turns on his side, stoic expression that much closer. "You should have kicked me out a long time ago."

"Probably," you agree.

Nanami startles as your fingers sweep beneath his fringe, pressing your palm to his forehead, then to yours, then back to his.

"At least your fever's broken, I think."

Perhaps the pills worked, but Nanami doesn't feel the same relief flooding your gaze.

"Are you sure?"

Your touch lingers, he leans into it. His temperature is rocketing, if anything. Hesitantly, Nanami's hand glides over your temples.

"You're too warm yourself."

"I'm not," you object, despite the steadily building furnace in your cheeks. "Check again."

"This isn't accurate," Nanami mutters, but his touch settles over you. His fingers should stay in a delicate arch over your head but his hand is drifting to cup your face, feeling your smile curve into his palm. He cradles it, together with the quiet of your breathing slowing into sync.

"I should keep a couple of shirts in the closet. What size do you wear?" you mumble sleepily.

"That's not necessary."

You crack open an eye. "So you're gonna insist on staying half-naked in an unmarried woman's bed?"

Nanami retracts his hand swiftly, as if he's been scalded.

"That's not what-"

"Don't get me wrong," you smirk, drowsiness completely vanquished. (Had it really been there in the first place? Nanami wonders.)

"Wearing just perspiration and bandages is a great look on you, but..."

You pull the blanket higher over the distinct curves of his biceps, shifting closer. "You'll get cold. And the forecast said rain tonight."

The meteorologists must be right for once, he thinks.The atmosphere is electric, frenetic with an impending summer storm. He can feel the crackling in his capillaries, heat condensing in the air.

You're an inch, maybe less, away from his face now. Near enough anyway that he can make out the feathered arc of your lashes, can see how they'd flutter with each of his exhalations, if he isn't careful.

Nanami holds his breath, becomes statuesque. You notice.

He's a magnum opus of masonry, Michelangelo's misery, muscles cast in moonlight and breaking all mortal molds - but the truth is, he's built himself from scratch. You know this. You've admired his Adonis belt, cut from alabaster, yes, but you've also witnessed that rigid expression, pale as chalk. The bricks in his abdomen, the welts chiselled crudely into his spine, your hands have traced all this.

It's how you know where to look for movement now, your palm pressing over the telltale pounding in those marble pectorals, fingertips skating the shadows that dance along the column of his throat. Nanami swallows cinders, the inferno in his belly growls. There is smoke in his lungs, his trapped protests, his warnings will taste like ash.

Because Nanami's not sure how much more of your mercy he can take, how many more miracles will lay to waste his mornings and nights as he remembers the softness of your skin, free from soot.

Reality isn't this good to him, Nanami isn't kind enough for it-

But you are.

Your kiss is gentle, glacial. Mouth drifting over his, as innocuous and inevitable as an iceberg.

A kiss so gentle it rips the hull of him wide open.

A hissing, gasoline fumes siphoned from his clenched teeth as he rolls your body on top of him and his cracked ribs, your gasp tangling with the rustle of the sheets. They bunch in your fists as he feels you struggle to push away from him, to alleviate the weight, but Nanami needs it, like pressure upon a spurting wound, grabs your hips and holds them flush to his own as he locks his other hand around your nape. He nips your protest in half, teeth and tongue raking and tilling along your bottom lip, until at last you let submission bloom in the bruises there.

Nanami doesn't know if he will survive this tenderness; if it'll survive him. The struggle is exhausting. But then, your hand clutches the hair at the back of his neck, roots silken in your strong grasp. Soft blonde strands sprout through the gaps of your fingers, the furrow of your brow eases into a plateau, a quiet moan pushes into his mouth; and Nanami knows he's lost.

And found again.

He feels the sickle of your smile, the swipe of your tongue as it reaps the first fruits of spring.

The scent of rain starting to fall can't compare to the taste of you, the scattered sounds are even more vague. Nanami doesn't register the gale's shrill whistle, too focused on the high peals of your whimpers. Precipitation's heavier pitter-patter against the panes is drowned out by the hammering of your heart underneath him, all of heaven's rumbling can't contend with the rushed whispers of his name and yours. Nanami links your hands together, the syllables loop around your bodies tighter and tighter as the intervals between your chants get shorter, breathier.

You pull away from Nanami at last, not quite completely, as he tries to temper his greed by suckling at your neck, your pulse barely a pacifier for his petulance. You pant, head lolling further to the side.

The sky has mistaken itself for the sea, deluge of melodrama lashing against your window. The cityscape is shrouded in silver, though you're not exactly enamoured by the view at the moment.

Nanami coaxes your attention back to him, lips roving over your cheeks and chin and nose. He rests his forehead against yours, gazing deep into your eyes. The silence is different now.

There had always been a certain detachment and distance, as if he were tuned to the frequency of a far away planet, a separate world. Still, you were pulled into each other's orbit; a pair of satellites emitting mixed signals.

You sense him drifting now, calibrating, calculating again; static buzzing as he searches for the right words.

You sigh and tug Nanami into another kiss.

He's a little surprised the atmosphere isn't scorching, that he isn't burning up upon reentry, falling back into your gravity. The heat is still there of course, just under your tongue and evident in the kerosene trails you're painting across his chest. It's diffuse this time, simmering rather than searing. Languid as syrup, as butter browning in a skillet. No flash in the pan, you tell him, lips still occupied.

Nanami closes his eyes, the liquid light filling him brighter than any solar flare. You drag your kiss, slow and soothing, till it's tucked into the hollow of his throat.

"Sweet dreams, Kento."

How redundant, he thinks without verbalizing it, arm curling around his one impossible yearning that has already come true.

Quietness seeps through the room as you curl into Nanami's side, and he allows himself to drift into warmth's embrace; the warmth of a sunbeam spilling through billowing muslin curtains.

Perhaps he could get used to this thread count.

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thewildwilds · 3 years

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AU where Peko is an insecure ghost that follows Fuyuhiko around

#kuzupeko #peko pekoyama #fuyuhiko kuzuryuu #danganronpa #sdr2 #dr2 #fuyupeko #anh's art #otp: i heard your voice #sorry for the sorta janky quality on these #got a new rig!!!! and still trying to finetune my old settings #hopefully i will get back on the ball soon #but i'm happy to finally upgrade my pc #anyway those sheet ghosts are the cutest #and i feel like peko would be one #i haven't drawn short hair peko in so so long

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gyuluster · 3 years

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a special night | fluff

oneshot | relationship! au | 1.37k words

s u m m a r y : an intimate insight on the first night of choi soobin’s wedding, consisting of kitchen floors, witches and an eternity of love.

c o n t e n t : FLUFF!!! SO MUCH FLUFF!!! established relationship, soobin is hella nervous reader leaves him, reader is dazed af, just so much fluff ion know what more to tell y’all

a u t h o r ‘ s n o t e : dedicated to @soobmint because her dream scenario is literally the cutest shit ever perhaps cried over it!! anyway ily furry char and i hope y’all enjoy!!!!

CHOI SOOBIN OPENED THE DOOR TO FIND THE WEDDING SHEETS BARE.

He wondered whether his eyesight had failed him - the sun had long set, a noticeable lack of light in his bedroom. He might not have perfect vision, but he would know if the love of his life was in front of him.

But you were not there.

Soobin pondered over the options: maybe you had gone downstairs, looking for a midnight snack because heavens knew you both did not have the time to rest in the whirlwind of activities. Maybe you had gone out for a little walk, perhaps reflecting on the events of today, the consequences of it all.

Or maybe you had taken the keys while he was inside the bathroom, and made a run for it in his new car.

Thoughts swirling still, he left the rose-filled bedroom, and descended down the stairs, nervous hands on the bannister.

Of course, he knew you would never commit such an action against him. Years of loving each other had proved his rather doubtful self-esteem, but when you take a huge step, one can’t help thinking the worst.

A quick turn from the hallway, the groom checked the living room, leaving after finding it empty. The anxiety grew within his gut, the latter option becoming a little too real.

Stop it. You know ____ is better than that.

Soobin entered the kitchen, his mind taunting him further until his lips nearly trembled.

But then his nerves disappeared when he looked over the doorway, beyond the dining table and in the expanse of the room.

There you were.

There you were, sat with your back to him, your voluminous white dress spread all around you as it twinkled under the moonlight, gleaming through the wall-length windows. You hummed a melody Soobin knew of all too well, blessing his ears as you swayed your head along to the tune.

The groom let out a breathy sigh, a smile escaping his lips as he leaned against the doorway. Look at you, he nearly voiced out, watching you idly enjoy your own company. He almost felt guilty for thinking about any other situation. Here you were, simply basking in the light of the stars, who no doubt relished the idea of shedding their shine on you. If Soobin possessed his own light, he would spend eternity radiating it on you.

Why did he not realise? Should have known it was a little trait that you had, settling yourself upon the kitchen floor and just...be. Sometimes you would not do much but just ponder over the existence of occurrences in your life. Most of the time, though, the little seating in the middle of the kitchen would be the time Soobin would ask you of your worries, and you would spill your concerns to him. It was incredibly easy to confide in this man, see, when his silence was so relieving, and his words so comforting.

He dared a step toward you, and then another; he was slow - soft, as to not disturb you, nearing your dove-coloured figure. Beside you, he settled himself on the cool marble, crossing his long legs, careful not to tear his tuxedo. His knees brushed against yours, and he almost felt like a little boy again when the mere touch sent shockwaves down his body.

Turning to you, he found himself dreaming along to your humming, eyes rooted to your veiled face. Even half-masked he found you so alluring.

You both sat, cherishing each other’s company under nature’s light, you murmuring Soobin’s few favourites and Soobin simply admiring the way your voice harmonised with his calming nerves. Funny how one person’s every trait can be a remedy for another’s soul.

The boy did not even realise you had ceased until he felt his fingers being interlocked with yours. He blinked, and saw your soft gaze underneath the veil.

“The boys sang it so well today,” you said as a way of greeting.

He knew exactly what you meant. “Fairy of shampoo is your favourite song.” Stroking your fingers, he let a smile work his way onto his lips. “I would be damned if those goons did not perform it at our wedding.”

He heard your chuckling underneath the veil as you turned, facing him fully. “I’m sorry for not being upstairs. I know I must have given you a shock.”

Soobin hurriedly dismissed this, squeezing your hand. “Don’t say that. I was just surprised, that’s all.” He cocked his head then. “My love, what’s wrong? There’s always a reason if you’re sitting here.”

Your own nerves only festered with the endearment. “Ah, nothing big. Just thinking.”

“Anything particular?”

A ghost of a smile appeared on your face. “Oh you know…” your thumb began stroking the planes of his hand. “That we’re married.”

Soobin did not need to see your face fully to sense your joy as his own heart fluttered with your words.

Married. Committed the last act which declared his attachment to you, his undeterred love for you and everything you represented. It was an extraordinary thing, finding someone who you wished to live with your entire life.

“Crazy isn’t it?” he agreed, looking out to the long windows, and the moon twinkling at him in greeting. “That I am your husband.” He smiled back. “And you my wife.”

“The witch has finally captured the prince for eternity!” you crowed, earning a soft laugh from the man before you. “It is time to put you in the cage of doom!”

“Perhaps I can still escape from this,” he mused, which only had you gasping in mock irritation.

You scoffed, staring at him through the veil. “You’re stuck with me now, Choi Soobin.”

The groom did not banter back, like you had expected.

Only held onto the hem of your veil as he raised it slowly, unravelling your face. His breathing hitched just a little at seeing you washed in moonlight, eyes glistening as if you held an entire galaxy inside them.

He swiped away the fabric, holding onto the hem as he parted his mouth.

“Let’s hope it stays that way forever, my love.”

Suddenly, you felt as if the world had stilled.

It was only an inkling, but you hoped to every celestial power that the universe worked in your favour tonight. Life is hard, the times are difficult but just tonight, you wished that this very night would last a lifetime.

Soobin may have been the realist in the relationship, but becoming married certainly made him wish for a fairytale. It was why when his heart sent a request, his mouth recited in action.

It was why he closed his eyes, and leaned in, brushing his lips against yours.

The celestial powers had answered your prayers. Time suddenly ceased to exist, everything was no more save for Soobin’s plush mouth upon yours, enveloping you in a sweet kiss.

You instantly melted beneath his touch, hands clutching his face as if it were a lifeline, your saving grace. The man, despite his shy demeanour, was certainly no monk, with the way his lips moved against yours, in a hypnotic rhythm only you knew the steps of. It was as if you were made for him, his kisses, his every little show of affection which brought you to ruination.

Soobin at last pulled away, slightly breathless. He rested his forehead against yours, abandoning the veil and resting his slender fingers upon your face, eyes still closed.

“God, ____,” he gasped out, chest rising unevenly. “I just...I love you so much.”

If this whole day had not brought you to tears, this panted declaration certainly did.

A few tears escaped your eyes as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “You better, or the witch will not be amused.”

Spluttered chuckling left your beloved’s mouth, fanning your own. “Then I hope this will change her mind,” he whispered, before capturing your lips once more.

And as you both settled there, upon the cool kitchen floor with nature’s light shining on you both, Soobin radiating his affections, you knew within your very soul that this, him, everything associated with him, will leave you more than amused.

It will leave you forever happy.

#soobin fluff #choi soobin imagines #txt fluff #txt imagines #choi soobin fluff #soobin imagines #txt scenarios #txt oneshot #choi soobin oneshots #soobin oneshots #soobin soft #soobin scenario #choi soobin scenarios #soobin oneshot #choi soobin oneshot #txt.soobin #soobin x reader #soobin x you

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hljournal · 4 years

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Today’s author is suspendrs / @suspendrs ! Don’t forget to give the fics kudos and leave a comment!

to the cloud and the cold (2k)

Or, Louis is a Summer Fairy, Harry is an Autumn Fairy, and the autumn equinox is the best day of the year.

fearless (97k)

“You’re my best friend, Louis,” Harry says, barely above a whisper. Even if he was yelling, Louis wouldn’t be able to believe his ears. “And I know it’s been a while, but you’re still the person I consider my best friend,” Harry says.

Louis blinks, and then blinks again. “I honestly cannot say the same, Harry,” he says.

Or, Harry left home without a word after high school, and a lot can change in ten years.

just a little dance (1k)

“Keep your head up, love,” he says, pulling away and grabbing Harry’s hands. “Dance with me.”

“I don’t want to dance,” Harry pouts, but he lets Louis pull him into the center of the dark kitchen, anyway.

“Just a little dance,” Louis says, tugging Harry’s hands until he’s flush against his front.

Or, a tiny drabble based on the cutest lyric from perfect now

ferricadooza! (65k)

Harry can’t even fathom the idea of surrendering; he’d fight ‘til he died, if he had to, anything to keep from surrendering.

Or, the year is 1963, homosexuality is illegal in the UK, Louis owns a gay bar, and Harry’s an underground boxing champion with an unfortunate enemy.

at last, at last (41k)

“Come with us,” Tommo says, stopping at the other end of the gymnasium, near the doors. “Don’t let them make you suffer any longer. Come with us, and be human.”

Before Harry has even finished thinking it through, he’s on his feet, gaining the attention of every single person in the gymnasium. What has he got to lose, anyway?

Or, Harry is born into a cult in a post-apocalyptic world, and Louis is the leader of the rebel group tasked with the mission of shutting them down. Together, they make a rather effective team.

the act of making noise (32k)

“Oh,” Harry frowns, waving him off. “No, I could never. I respect myself too much to sing for a living.”

It feels like a slap across the face, but Louis does his best not to stiffen, blinking once and then frowning. “What?”

“Those people are always so miserable, you know?” Harry says, hopping down off his stool and straightening his sweater. “There’s so much pressure on them, and they have to work so hard to keep up appearances, I can’t even imagine how difficult that is. I can’t even stand to listen to pop music today, let alone watch TV or read the magazines. It makes me so sad, thinking that those people, you know, the ones who actually went into it with heart, they only ever just wanted to make music and instead they got turned into things on leashes being paraded around to make money for other people,” he says. “Anyway, you can have the stool.”

Or, Louis's famous, Harry has no idea who he is, and they get snowed in together at a ski lodge in Vermont.

walls (20k)

The thing about having been on the move so much for the past five years is that now, once they’re finally able to sit down and rest for a bit, they don’t really know what to do with themselves. Louis loved the pace of the band, for all he and the others complained about it; he isn’t very fond of sitting still, and he absolutely loathes boredom, and there was very little space in their lives for either of those things while they were so busy putting out an album every year and touring more often than not. Being in the same room as Harry while neither of them are under the pressure of keeping up appearances feels like being in a room with a total stranger, and the amount of trouble they’re having trying to get to know each other again is really rather alarming.

Or, a love one whole decade in the making, inspired by Louis's debut album.

fine line (22k)

There’s still a lot of things they don’t talk about, a lot of things they don’t bring home with them at the end of the day, and a lot of things that don’t even need to be said. The world is the world and it sucks sometimes, but it’s far away when Harry’s at home and Louis’s here with him and none of it needs to matter when it could just as easily be ignored. Harry tries to open up sometimes, tries to bring Louis into his world, but Louis’s got a world of his own to tend to, and it feels like more often than not they are on two separate planets and the universe just keeps expanding.

Or, a love three more years in the making, inspired by Harry’s sophomore album.

out for a duck (2k)

“Well, once I got control of Clifford, I took him right back to the house and changed my clothes and gave him one hell of a dressing down, let me tell you,” he scoffs. “And then I felt so bad I went back out to see if the duck had gone back to her eggs, and that Clifford hadn’t damaged them or hurt the duck at all. She wasn’t there when I got back, and I sat there for hours waiting for her, but she never showed her face! She just up and abandoned her babies, just left them there cold and alone, all because a dog barked at her,” he sighs, shaking his head.

“Still not sure why the eggs are now in my kitchen,” Louis frowns.

“I couldn’t just leave them there!” Harry says. “It was my fault they were abandoned! Well, Clifford’s fault, but whatever. I couldn’t live with myself if I just left them there to die. So I came back to the house and got a bowl and some gloves and scooped them up so I could bring them home and keep them warm until they hatch.”

Or, Harry accidentally adopts two duck eggs.

what’s inside your imagination (is as real as anything else) (3k)

“Hey!” Niall shouts suddenly, scaring Harry nearly out of his hat. “We like your costume!”

The ghost turns to glance at Niall, producing a hand from under the sheet and giving him a thumbs up. Harry can’t help but laugh a little more, the casual gesture adding to the entire vibe of the sunglasses-wearing ghost.

The ghost looks at them for a moment longer before turning and disappearing into the crowd again, and Harry sighs. “I love Halloween,” he says thoughtfully.

Or, Harry's a witch who likes to pretend he's a human pretending he's a witch, and Louis's the human in a not-so-clever costume that keeps catching his eye.

satellite (100k)

“It’s been three years since I’ve had a proper hot meal,” Louis says finally. “I have no idea where my family is, or if any of them are even still alive. The only reason I’ve been able to keep myself alive for as long as I have is because I keep to myself, stay guarded, stay hidden. It’s the only way I know how to live,” he says.

Harry wants to cry, but he tries to put on a brave face when Louis finally meets his eyes. “You’re safe here. You don’t have to be so guarded around me,” Harry says quietly, earnestly.

“That’s very sweet of you,” Louis says, putting his fork down. “But yes I do. Especially around you.”

Or, Harry finds out that someone's been living in his house without him knowing, but instead of kicking him out, he falls in love with him.

sugar in a plum (4k)

“I’m your dad,” Harry says softly, extending his hand to Plum for her to have a sniff. Plum considers for a moment, looks up at Louis, and then bites Harry’s finger.

“Ow!” Harry shrieks, pulling his hand away quickly. He’s not bleeding, but Plum’s teeth are incredibly sharp, he feels like he’s been stabbed with ten tiny needles. “Jesus, Lou, I thought we were getting a cat, not a demon.”

Or, Harry's new kitten is out to ruin his life.

there are no atheists in foxholes (64k)

“Do you think we’ll ever see it again?” Harry asks after a minute. “London?”

Louis blinks, looking down. They very well could spend the rest of their lives on this island, and they’re both very aware of that. Everyone probably already thinks they’re dead, anyway. Their flats are going to be sold, and their families are going to have funerals, and life is going to go on without them. Even if they do get rescued, it’s already been days. The news of the shipwreck has definitely reached London by now. They don’t know if there’s been any effort to look for survivors, but they also don’t know how far away from the wreck they are, or how far people are going to go to look for them, or if anyone even knows that this island is here and, like, it’s very possible that they’ve already looked and stopped looking for survivors, and no one knows they’re out here-

“I don’t know,” Louis says, before he can start spiraling. “I hope so, but I don’t know.”

Or, the sea takes everything from Louis, but it gives him back more than he ever could’ve asked for.

it ain’t right, but isn’t it amazing (7k)

It’s all Niall’s fault, as most things are. Niall’s the one that made the bloody Tinder account in the first place, and the one that added every decent looking photo of Louis he could find on his phone, and the one that swiped right on the first fifteen guys that popped up. Yeah, Louis might have done the rest of the work that landed him here, in the men’s toilets of a Japanese restaurant in west London with vomit dripping down his chin and down the very, very attractive chest of the very, very attractive man in front of him, but Niall started it.

Or, Harry takes Louis for sushi on the first date. It doesn't go well.

keep this love in a photograph (48k)

“I could never forget a damn thing about you, Harry Styles, not even if I wanted to,” Louis says. His hair falls into his face when he glances over at Harry, the moonlight reflecting off of it and making it glow golden, like maybe Louis himself is the sun.

Harry thinks of how dark and cold his life got once Louis went away, how Harry got a taste of the sweetest sunshine imaginable and then was plunged into the longest winter of his life. He feels like he’s been buried under mounds of snow for months, years, and he’s finally made it to spring, finally getting another taste of how wonderful life can be.

Or, it’s 1919, and Harry’s been falling in love with his best friend for his entire life.

thrills don’t come for free (4k)

The night before comes back to him slowly, puking in the toilet at the club and then falling asleep in his car in the parking lot. He closes his eyes again for a moment until he realizes that the car is on and moving, and someone is driving it that isn’t him.

He picks his head up and peers between the seats, catching sight of a perfect stranger sitting behind the wheel, singing quietly and driving Louis’s car.

Or, Louis has a bit too much to drink and falls asleep in the backseat of Harry's car.

not even the gods above (25k)

The thing is, though, this isn’t good enough for Harry. Sure, he has the rest of his life to be a notable king, but he wants to be notable now. He wants to bring the two kingdoms together and he wants to do it early on, wants to be the one to facilitate the merge until it seems like the two kingdoms were one all along. He doesn’t want to wait, but everyone he’s turned to thinks waiting is the right choice, so he supposes he has to trust them.

That is, of course, until a declaration of war from the Kingdom of Tomlinson shows up at his palace.

somewhere far away from here (12k)

“Harry,” Louis says, squeezing his arm. “Do you know her?”

“My sister,” Harry mutters, eyes glued to the screen.

“What’s she saying?” Louis asks, voice quiet. “What does she want?”

“Me,” Harry murmurs, hardly a breath. “She knows I’m here.”

Or, Harry's sister comes to Earth to bring him home, but Harry's got a few things keeping him here.

i’ll take your pain (2k)

It’s kind of romantic when Harry thinks about it, feeling all the pain of the person he’s supposed to love for the rest of his life. Sure, it’s rather inconvenient when he’s in class and his soulmate gets kicked in the balls, or when he’s sleeping and his soulmate knocks his head or his knee off something. It’d be nice if the function helped them to find each other, but Harry supposes he can live with knowing that they’re destined to run into each other someday.

Or, soulmates have the ability to feel each other's pain, and Harry finds his after getting his arse waxed. (Or, the soulmate au crack fic I can't believe I actually wrote.)

the pink album (31k)

They don’t really discuss how hard it is to be in this situation, or to be doing the things they have to do to continue being together. It’s just something they don’t talk about, and that’s alright. Or maybe it isn’t, but they’ll cross that bridge when they get to it.

Or, a love seven years in the making, inspired by Harry's debut album.

i’ll make this feel like home (41k)

It’s nerdy, much nerdier than anything Harry would have engaged in back home. Perrie and Ed are singing some song from West Side Story and Stan is just giggling along, and it’s almost weird how weird Harry doesn’t find it. Liam and Niall would be running as fast as they could from this interaction, but somehow, Harry finds himself giggling along as well.

Maybe it’s because no one in this group seems like they should belong in this group, but Harry feels like he fits right in. He feels more himself than he has in weeks when Louis plops down beside him for a couple moments and throws out another title to add to their movie marathon. Even though he can’t contribute to the conversation about musicals and he has no idea whether The King and I or Oklahoma is more important, he never feels like an outsider.

Or, Harry is new to Plymouth and has had a rough start, but Louis won't rest until he makes it start to feel like home.

dirty laudry looks good on you (19k)

“So um, Niall mentioned you haven’t lived here long. What brings you to London?”

“What is this, an interview?” Louis smirks, stealing Harry’s drink and taking a sip. “Wanted a change of scenery. Dunno.”

Harry hums and takes his drink back, narrowing his eyes playfully at Louis as he takes a long sip. “Can I buy you a drink, or would you rather keep sharing mine?”

“You most certainly can buy me a drink,” Louis grins, grabbing the bottle back out of Harry’s hand, “but I’m still going to be stealing yours.”

Or, Harry is jaded and sad and resigned to be forever alone, until Niall sets him up with a friend of his whose broken pieces may just fit pretty well with Harry's.

we’ve got to get away from here (23k)

“It is my understanding that you are the most comprehensive member of this agency in the field of extraterrestrial life, is that right?” the agent asks. He’s trying to sound calm, but Louis can tell he’s shaken as well.

“Um, I guess so,” Louis says, glancing over at the man in the blanket again.

Suddenly, Louis’s blood runs cold. There’s something off about the man, something in his gaze, something Louis can’t put his finger on. It’s terribly unsettling, but excitement bubbles in his gut.

Or, Louis is an FBI agent who likes to think himself a paranormal expert, and Harry is the alien that somehow ended up in his office.

in midnights, in cups of coffee (15k)

“Sorry about the sugar,” Louis says, backing toward his own flat. “Bundle up before you go out.”

Harry smiles so sweetly then that Louis can’t imagine he’ll even need the sugar, if the muffins aren’t sweet enough just because they were made by him. “Thanks,” he says, eyes lingering a little longer on Louis before he lets himself back into Gemma’s apartment, and then Louis is just standing in the hallway by himself.

Or, Louis is overworked and cold, Harry is stressed out, and they might be in love.

come away with me (80k)

Or, Louis has to pick up the pieces of his and his daughter's life after his wife dies, and Harry is a beautiful stranger that just wants to help.

in the night (19k)

Or, the self-indulgent reversed pov and slight continuation of come away with me.

my song has not been sung (2k)

Or, Harry is watching a protest from the sidelines until a boy with a rainbow flag and a pretty smile drags him right into the middle of it.

i’ll be home for christmas (12k)

Or, Louis and Harry can’t decide where to go on Christmas.

autumn leaves (27k)

Or, Harry is an American soldier in France during World War II, and Louis is a French waiter that doesn't mean to fall in love with him.

we’ve got unfinished business (7k)

Or, there’s a ghost in Harry and Louis’s apartment that seemingly just wants them to date.

falling in love with you again (4k)

Or, three times in which Louis fell in love with Harry all over again.

heading for a small disaster (20k)

Or, Harry drives an Uber and Louis’s life is falling apart.

don’t stop to worry (4k)

It was just supposed to be a trim today, to skim off the dead ends of his hair. He had no idea it’d end the way it did.

Or, Harry cuts his hair. It's kind of a big deal.

diamonds, they fade (1k)

The cold does nothing tonight but remind Louis of the boy he left inside, the boy that’s curled up under the blankets by himself right now, the boy that’s probably going to come looking for him soon when he wakes up and Louis isn’t there.

Or, Louis has insomnia.

maps can be poems when you’re on your own (19k)

Or, Harry falls in love with the guy his best friend is fooling around with.

we could be enough (4k)

Or, Harry runs an anonymous crush confession column in the school newspaper and Louis has quite the crush to write in about.

no place to call home (22k)

Or, Louis isn't Peter Pan and Harry isn't Wendy and Neverland is nothing like Harry thought it would be, but it's perfect anyway.

show a little mercy (3k)

Louis hates him so, so much. But then again, he’s never loved someone quite so fiercely.

Or, Louis and Harry try to break up. (Or, a drabble based on Love You Goodbye)

kiss me on the mouth and set me free (17k)

Or, Louis is a gamer and Harry is a beauty guru, and VidCon is a good place to fall in love.

sing me like a choir (17k)

Or, Harry is nervous to do actual makeup on his channel, until his boyfriend Louis helps him out.

please don’t bite (21k)

Or, Harry releases his own line of beauty products, and Louis feels abandoned when Harry’s newfound fame gets the best of him.

underneath the christmas tree (17k)

Louis sends Harry on a scavenger hunt on Christmas Eve.

to be loved and to be in love (50k)

Harry and Louis' first year as a couple, as captured by snippets of home movies.

hope your heart is strong enough (4k)

Prompt: Set in the US, Harry spends Thanksgiving with Louis' family, or vice versa. Chaos ensues.

to watch you fall (16k)

Or, Harry is lonely and Louis is engaged to be married.

give me your hand and i’ll hold it (18k)

Prompt: Harry (9) moves in next to Louis (11). They have little roofs under their bedroom windows and like to sit there and talk. Seven years later, Louis has to leave for college.

you make me strong (14k)

Louis comes home from war with a few more problems than he left with, but Harry can't find it in himself to let him go.

#faaw #fics

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flowesona · 4 years

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The Chariot - Yandere! Yoongi x reader

The Tarot Series

No matter how hard he tried to stop it, the blood refused to cease flowing from Yoongi’s nose. Accompanied by a horrific pain and the cruel laugh of his enemy as they snatched up the crumpled envelope and walked away, counting the bills triumphantly.

Yoongi managed to stagger to his feet, breathing heavily as the blood continued to flow, staining the back of his hand ruby red. He cursed upon seeing how they’d crushed his phone out of pure spite, rendering it useless and him unable to call for help.

A few passersby stared at him and his injury, but none offered him help. None, except one young woman who stopped him as he took a shortcut through the park.

“Are you okay? You’re bleeding!” She dug around in her pockets for a tissue, offering him a crumpled one which he took gratefully.

“Yeah, I just… I need to get home.” Yoongi muttered, trying to push past her shyly but she blocked his way.

“Did someone do this to you? If so, we need to call the police!” Yoongi shook his head.

“No, there’s no point. His dad has connections anyway, they’d find out and it’d only piss them off more.” He wasn’t sure why he owed this girl an explanation yet he did, letting her dab at his nose.

“That’s not an excuse to do nothing. Hey, don’t you go to my school?” The woman gasped suddenly. “You’re in the basketball team right? Min Yoongi! I’m (Y/N), I’m part of the Judo team!”

“Y-yeah.” He hated that this girl could tarnish his reputation, make him out to be a total sissy for getting beaten up by another student. He would’ve given the world to start the day over, yet here he was being babied by one of his peers. “I need to get home. Leave me alone.”

With those words he turned away from her, still holding her gifted tissue to his nose.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

“Where’s my money, little kitten?” The oldest boy snarled, shoving Yoongi until back hit the metal fence.

“I-I don’t have it. Payday isn’t until next week.” He gasped in pain as one of the boys grabbed his arm and twisted it until they heard the crack of ligaments.

“Well. You know what I'll do. I'll hurt you until you can cough it up.” Yoongi prayed someone might pass by, a dog walker or a parent & child who could intervene. His prayers were answered when he heard a loud voice shouting “Hey!”

The boys ran as soon as they heard the voice and caught sight of a figure striding towards them, leaving Yoongi cradling his injured arm.

“Hoseok’s the one who hurt you?! Yoongi, why didn’t you tell me that?” It took him a few seconds to recognise the voice, looking to see (Y/N) standing next to him with a pissed off expression. “There’s got to be a way that you can fight back!”

“My debts are none of your concern.” He sighed.

“What if I teach you self defense? I took lessons for a while to protect myself, you should do the same!”

“Fine.” Yoongi muttered, hoping that a few lessons would satisfy her and perhaps help him.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

“That’s enough for today.” (Y/N) sat down, huffing. “Man, you’re getting better by the day.”

Yoongi nodded, his heart fluttering at her compliment. He wasn’t sure how, or why, but he had caught feelings for the girl. Maybe it was the long hours they spent together messing with his head, but Yoongi could swear on his life that he’d never seen someone more beautiful whilst drenched in sweat from the summer heatwave.

“(Y/N)?” She turned to give him her attention when he called out her name, making him feel slightly nervous but determined nonetheless. “Would you...maybe… like to get an ice cream or something? My treat? Since it’s so hot…”

(Y/N) nodded happily as he trailed off.

“Let’s go.” She took his hand, oblivious to the heat in his cheeks.

Once they’d settled in the corner of a local ice-cream parlour with a bowl each, Yoongi decided to speak up.

“(Y/N), do you… have a boyfriend?” The young woman paused, the spoon in her mouth.

“No.” She replied quickly, swallowing. “Why do you-”

She cut herself off as she glanced over his shoulder.

“Hey, isn’t that Hoseok?” Yoongi felt his blood run cold, turning around to see the menacing figure lingering by the doorway. The second Yoongi met his eyes, Hoseok scoffed and walked away. He didn’t need to stay, not when his threat had been made clear.

Yoongi had given himself a weakness. And now, (Y/N) was in danger.

“We need to- fuck!” Yoongi cursed to himself. Truly, he felt like he was more stuck than ever. He had to protect her, he couldn’t let Hoseok get his filthy hands on her.

“Yoongi, it’s going to be okay.” He couldn’t meet her eyes as she spoke, shame and guilt hanging over his head.

“(Y/N). Call one of your friends and go home.” He said quietly.

“I’m not leaving you alone. I know what you’re thinking.” (Y/N)’s hand grasped his, giving him a deep blush. “We know that Hoseok is out there. But I just can’t let you get hurt on my conscience. I’ll fight for you, if I have to.”

She pulled out her purse to leave a tip on the table, before standing up, still holding Yoongi’s hand.

“Do you want to walk me home, then, Mr Tough Guy?”

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

Hoseok didn’t strike. That would’ve been too expected, too easy. He was waiting, toying with his prey. There was more to it than the money. Hoseok loved the thrill of it, and he wanted nothing more than to crush Min Yoongi’s hopes beneath his foot.

It’d been just over a week when Yoongi next asked to meet up with (Y/N). He’d stayed away, scared of putting a target on her back and hoping to shake Hoseok off, but his heart wouldn’t let him stay away any longer. He needed her, to distract him from bleak reality and remind him what it was like to have hope.

“Why did you choose a horror movie then?” (Y/N) whispered, her smirk barely visible in the dark of the cinema. “Did you want the cute girl to cling to your arm when she’s scared?”

“Maybe.” Yoongi whispered back, his heart pounding as (Y/N) slid her hand into his.

“I’m not easily scared, Yoongi. What are you gonna do now?” The look in her eyes, the feeling of her hand in his. It was the perfect time.

“This.” He leaned in, a frenzy of butterflies in his stomach as he finally kissed her. For a moment he was terrified he’d done something wrong, only to have her reciprocate seconds later, tilting her head and allowing him further into her mouth.

Yoongi was ready to go all in, reaching down to his zipper only for her to rest her hand on top of his to stop his hasty actions.

“Look, it’s getting to the good part.”

The fire in his stomach was still burning, his passion ignited. Truly, he was happy to finally have the girl. Even though she could be snatched away just as easily.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

“Just saying, their lives would be so much simpler if they didn’t summon a ghost for the hell of it.” (Y/N) complained about the movie, swinging their hands as Yoongi walked her home.

“Then the movie wouldn’t be entertaining!” He chuckled, feeling himself get hot up as (Y/N) laughed alongside him.

“Hey, there’s a shortcut here.” She commented, pulling him towards the park. Yoongi wanted to protest. This was one of Hoseok's spots after all. There was probably even a bit of blood on one of the footpaths, from a week where he’d been underpaid at work, and paid the price severely.

“I don’t know about this, it’s dangerous.” He warned, putting one hand in his pocket to grasp the switchblade he’d started carrying around for safety. Just so he could take care of Hoseok and his goonies, in case they decided to come after (Y/N).

“It’ll only take a few minutes.” She dismissed his concerns, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

For the first few minutes, it truly did seem like they were safe. Yoongi was about to lower his guard, when he saw someone lurking in the shadows in the corner of his eye.

“(Y/N), I want you to run. Right now.” He muttered, but she shook her head stubbornly.

“I won’t leave you, Yoongi.”

“Isn’t that just the cutest, little kitten?” Hoseok’s voice came from behind the couple as he finally emerged into view. In a matter of seconds they were surrounded.

“You’ve got your girlfriend here to protect you.” The older boy snarled. “But I want my money, Yoongi.”

“You know damn well I’ve given you back way more than I owed in the first place.” Yoongi retorted, his hand’s grip on the knife in his pocket growing tighter by the second.

“And? That’s just called interest.” Hoseok pulled out his own blade. “Now, if you don’t want your girlfriend to have a few cuts on her precious face, give me the cash you have leftover from last week’s wages. And I know you have them, don’t try to lie to me kitten. How else are you paying for your little dates?”

“Go fuck yourself.” (Y/N) hissed at him. “He doesn’t owe you shit. Get out of the way before I beat your ass.”

“She’s a feisty one, kitten.” Hoseok smirked, striding over. His hands started to roam along her arms, running down any part of exposed skin he could get his hands on. “No wonder you’re so smitten. I bet she’s a real freak in the sheets.”

“Let go of me, you bastard.” (Y/N) elbowed him in the crotch, giving a momentary triumph as Hoseok doubled over in pain.

“I’ll teach you a lesson in respect, sweetheart.” Hoseok snarled. “And maybe it’ll teach your boyfriend to give me my money when I ask for it.”

Yoongi just couldn’t stand and watch this beast hurt his (Y/N). It was his responsibility - no, his honour - as her boyfriend to protect her from the cruelest parts of this world.

He withdrew the knife from his pocket, and straightened his back to appear as tough as he could be.

“If you touch my girlfriend, I’ll kill you Hoseok.” The delinquent didn’t look even remotely scared.

“Disarm the kitten for me. I’ll teach him his lesson once I’m done with his girlfriend.” He ordered the punks behind Yoongi, but when one of them reached out to grab Yoongi’s arm, the knife was planted in his shoulder and ripped out. The recipient of Yoongi’s lash tried to hide the pain, gritting his teeth as blood trickled down his arm. Nevertheless, once the two punks saw the serious threat Yoongi was posing now, they decided to run, not ready to face the consequences of their actions.

“Hey! Can’t handle a little boy with a toy knife? You fucking pussies!” Hoseok shouted after them, not ever deterred by the blood.

Hoseok shoved (Y/N) to the ground.

“Guess I have to take care of you.” He said, stalking towards Yoongi who was still holding the now bloodied knife in front of him. “Maybe when this sweetheart sees what a true man looks like, she’ll want to be in my bed instead.”

He towered over Yoongi, holding his own knife to Yoongi’s neck. But Hoseok was in a world of surprise when Yoongi, rather than cowering as he usually did, drove the switchblade into the stomach of his nemesis, twisting it and pushing it deeper as Hoseok groaned in pain.

Once he was satisfied that the damage had been done, he pulled out the knife and shoved Hoseok away, letting the boy collapse to the ground in pain. But his retaliation was far from over, as he delivered a swift kick to Hoseok’s hunched over for, not having an ounce of mercy as the boy curled up into a fetal position, trying to protect himself.

“Stay away from my (Y/N). Don’t talk about her, don’t think about her. And don’t you even dare touch her.”

After delivering a few more beatings to the man who’d hurt him for so long, Yoongi was finally satisfied, and turned to find (Y/N) so they could leave.

But (Y/N) wasn’t going anywhere. She was frozen to the spot, utterly terrified.

“Yoongi… you shouldn’t have…” (Y/N) finally started to back away, pulling her phone out of her pocket to call an ambulance.

“No, (Y/N). I had to.” The once sweet boy was now gone, replaced by a shivering monster. “I had to teach him a lesson. He’d start hurting you, and I couldn’t live with myself if that happened.”

“You’re no better than him! I wanted you to defend yourself, not kill him!” (Y/N) protested. “If you don’t want to get arrested, you should leave. And don’t ever talk to me again.”

“I-I w-won’t leave you a-alone, (Y/N).” Yoongi stuttered, having suddenly paled as what he had done was setting in. “It’s way too dangerous for you here a-all alone.”

He offered her his bloody hand, but she refused to even touch him.

“You need help.” Before she could even dial another digit on her phone, Yoongi had snatched it out of her hand and dropped it to the ground, digging his heel into the screen to maximise the damage.

“You're the only thing that can help me, (Y/N). Please.” He took her shaking body into his arms, his breathing and heart rate slowing as he held her close. “Don’t ever let me go and I’ll be okay.”

#yandere #yandere kpop #kpop yandere #yandere au #yandere bts #yandere bts au #yandere yoongi #yandere yoongi x reader #yandere suga #yandere suga x reader #yandere oneshot #bts suga #suga #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #the tarot series #yandere min yoongi #yandere x reader

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hyunbaekah · 5 years

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Pairing: ChanBaek/BaekYeol Word count: ~4k Genre: Romance kind of??? | Short Drabble | NC-17 Warnings: Smut | PWP | Thigh Worship | Mirror Sex Author’s note: This used to be a Tweetfic of mine, but since I deactivated Twitter, this was silently sitting in the drafts of my docs, so... I decided to post it here! Sorry for errors! English isn’t my first language! And there might be typos... ANYWAY-- Enjoy the filth~

⚣

“Th-These are a little too tight...” Baekhyun muttered, a blush prominent on his cheeks as he hid his hard-on with the hem of one of Chanyeol's oversized hoodies.

Thigh highs.

It seemed Chanyeol couldn't get enough of them.

The latter chuckled, looking at Baekhyun's beautiful, shapely legs, his eyes lingering on his thighs. Oh, his thick meaty thighs. They were spilling from the top of the white, silky thigh high socks and pressed together in a weak attempt to hide the fact that he was turned on.

But Chanyeol knew. Oh, he knew he wasn't the only one enjoying the thigh highs. Baekhyun maybe wouldn't admit it, but Chanyeol knew he liked wearing them, liked being pretty just for him.

“I think they look amazing on you, Baby,” he said and grinned as he stood up from their bed dressed in nothing but sweatpants. He approached Baekhyun, who was standing in front of the huge mirror next to bed and wrapped his arms around his much smaller frame, back-hugging him. “Everything looks amazing on you.”

He grabbed the hem of his -- Baekhyun loved to wear his clothes -- favourite hoodie and slowly, teasingly, he forced Baekhyun to lift the shirt to help him take it off, revealing something else he had bought for him too.

Blue and white striped panties with a cute little bow sowed to the front.

But it weren't the panties that made Chanyeol bite his lower lip, but the outlines of the smaller's hard little cock and the head peeking out at the top.

“Th-This is embarrassing,” Baekhyun whispered, his cheeks feeling so hot he thought he was going to combust. And when he saw the taller was eating him up with dark lustful eyes, his dick throbbed in its confines.

It throbbed, visibly.

Chanyeol licked his lips. He needed to have Baekhyun on the bed. Now.

The smaller let out a squeal when he got picked up from the ground and thrown onto the mattress. He bit his lower lip when Chanyeol crawled onto the bed as well and allowed him to spread his legs. When he felt the taller's lips on his chest, he shuddered and bit his lip harder to suppress a moan when he felt said lips close around one of his hardening nipples.

Sometimes he hated how sensitive he was, hated how Chanyeol used that against him to have him right where he wanted him: needy and aroused. “Yeol…” he breathed, fisting his hand in the taller's fluffy hair as his back arched off the bed when he felt teeth tug at his nub.

Chanyeol shuddered when Baekhyun whimpered as he moved on to the other nipple, giving it the same kind of attention. He licked it, sucked on it, played with it with his teeth until it was rosy and erected, until he deemed it pretty enough to move on. He trailed his lips down Baekhyun's lithe body, pressing wet kisses everywhere against his heated skin, until he had reached the waistband of the panties.

Grinning, he looked up at Baekhyun, who was staring down at him with half-lidded eyes. ��You're so hard,” he teased, running his hand up the smaller's thigh towards his groin and cupped his dick through the blue and white fabric.

Moaning, Baekhyun's hips twitched needily before he brought his hand up to mouth and bit down on his finger so no further embarrassing sounds could leave his mouth. A muffled whimper made its way past his lips nonetheless when Chanyeol's mouth ghosted over his clothed cock. He thought Chanyeol would tease him, that he would kiss his shaft through his panties and make him desperate to be inside his mouth, but he was wrong.

Oh, so wrong.

Instead of keeping his mouth on his groin, Chanyeol let his lips travel further south, towards his plush thighs.

Baekhyun's should've known he wasn't going to get it. He should've known that just after his thighs had fully healed from previous hickeys, Chanyeol would mark him up again. He should've known that wearing these white thigh highs would just fuel the younger even more to use his milky skin as the perfect canvas for pink, red and dark-purple hickeys.

His other hand fell from Chanyeol's hair onto the mattress and he curled his fingers in the bed sheets. “Y-Yeol,” he moaned, the sound muffled by his hand. He watched Chanyeol lick a hot stripe up the inside of his thigh, where he was the most sensitive, where the most hickeys would always be.

The first one bloomed on his pelvis, where his groin met his thigh. Chanyeol grinned as he pulled back a little and watched the otherwise flawless skin tinge with pink. He didn't even have to suck hard: Baekhyun's skin bruised easily naturally.

And he made great use of it.

He kissed back to the top of the sock, which had ridden down a little, and sucked another hickey right above the white fabric. It didn't take long before a constellation of hickeys were covering one of Baekhyun's thick thighs.

Chanyeol thought Baekhyun looked even prettier like this: legs shaking, chest heaving unevenly, nipples standing hard and proud, two fingers between his lips, cheeks pink. He felt his own dick throb inside his sweatpants when his eyes caught the smaller looking down at him through his eyelashes with his pupils blown.

“You like this, don't you, sweetheart?” Chanyeol asked, his voice husky, as he moved his mouth to his unmarked thigh while maintaining eye contact. “When I mark you up like this?”

Baekhyun moaned around his fingers.

“When I make you mine like this?”

Nodding, Baekhyun fought the urge to close his legs from sensitivity when Chanyeol planted his lips on the inside of his other thigh. “I-I love it,” he said, his voice soft, after he had momentarily removed his fingers from his mouth. He quickly sucked them back into his mouth, though, when the taller resumed painting him with love-bites so dark, it would take weeks to heal.

But he loved the way he looked covered in dark patches, loved to be reminded who he belonged to. It turned him on whenever he looked in the mirror and saw all the hickeys Chanyeol had so enthusiastically created. He would do the same to Chanyeol. He would bite his neck and scratch his back when they fucked: he marked him in his own way, which he knew the taller loved too.

They marked each other, belonged to each other. It was mutual, the need to bruise each other's skin erotically. Not because they didn't trust one another, but as an unspoken kink they both had.

The closer Chanyeol's lips got to his groin, the more Baekhyun started to shake. He wasn't sure what he was anticipating, because the naughty twinkle in the taller’s eyes told him it would be better not to anticipate anything at all. He was up to something, but Baekhyun couldn't pinpoint what -- not with his mind so hazy.

Chanyeol moaned absentmindedly as he pulled back from the darkest hickey he had created yet, one that pulled an obscene whimper from the elder's stuffed mouth. He felt himself leak upon the sight of Baekhyun's ever so full thighs covered in so many of his hickeys. The thigh highs hugged his legs so nicely, making his thighs look even thicker, even more delicious.

Chanyeol leaned back in towards the soft skin, leaving more wet kisses. He licked the bruises, sucked on pink ones until they turned a dark red, and squeezed his other thigh.

Meanwhile Baekhyun's head was spinning. The hand he didn't have at his face was itching to touch himself, to give his dick the attention it was begging for by twitching every time he felt teeth against his skin, but he held himself back. He basked in the feeling of Chanyeol worshipping his thighs, loving the way his skin started tingling. He was too far gone to even realise the taller had travelled his lips up to his hip, where he also left a little mark.

“Fuck... your thighs,” Chanyeol grunted as he kissed Baekhyun's belly button while having both his big hands holding onto the smaller's trembling legs. “I want to fuck your thighs.”

Baekhyun's breath hitched upon hearing those words, his dick throbbing involuntarily inside the panties, and noticed Chanyeol's hard-on bouncing in his sweatpants as he hovered over him. He liked that idea. So much, actually, that he was already imagining it. “Against the mirror,” he bashfully whispered, the fingers he previously had inside his mouth clutching Chanyeol's bicep.

“Oh, naughty Baby wants me to fuck his thighs?” the taller said, the tone in his voice so teasing that Baekhyun's cheeks turned even rosier. “My Baby is the cutest, the sexiest-”

Baekhyun shut Chanyeol up by cupping his face and pulling him down for a kiss. He could feel the taller smirk against his lips, but he made sure to kiss the smug expression off his face.

But Chanyeol was already pulling back again in an attempt to stop the kiss so they could move to the mirror. He didn't get the chance to break the kiss, though, because Baekhyun kept following his lips with his until he was sitting up and Chanyeol was standing beside the bed.

Their mouths parted slowly, as if they both actually wanted to continue kissing. But with their dicks hard and their hearts racing, they wanted to do so much more than just to continue their lip-lock.

“Come here, Baby,” Chanyeol ordered as he walked away from the bed towards the wall. “I want you to face the mirror.”

Baekhyun didn't have to be told twice. He stood up from the bed, feeling a bit dizzy with arousal, and walked over to the mirror. He pulled the thighs back up his thighs and watched Chanyeol through the mirror, feeling his heart skip a beat when he saw him walk over to their bedside table, where he knew their strawberry flavoured bottle of lube was located.

He trembled when he saw Chanyeol, whose back was facing him, pulling down his pants, revealing the fact he wasn't wearing any underwear. His dick throbbed when the taller turned around with lube in his hands, his rock-hard dick swinging between his legs as he approached him.

“Damn, Baby, you really are the sexiest,” Chanyeol groaned, more to himself than to Baekhyun. The sight of the smaller having his hands against the mirror and his hips jutted out for him turned him on so much. His cute little ass in those tiny panties looked so edible, so fuckable.

Too bad his thighs spilling out of those thigh highs looked even better.

“Press them together,” he ordered and let a lecherous grin creep up his face when Baekhyun immediately pressed his legs together. He coated his dick with a generous amount of their pinkish lube before he threw the bottle on their bed.

Baekhyun bit back a moan when he felt a hand on his thigh and looked at Chanyeol, who was looking down at his dick which he couldn't see because his own body was blocking the view. He thought he looked pathetic rather than sexy like this. So horny just from Chanyeol giving his thighs attention, so worked up just from a little foreplay. His body was calling out for the taller, and of course the fucker knew.

Of course he knew.

The smirk on his handsome face once he was done lathering his cock with lube and looked up at Baekhyun through the mirror said it all.

“H-Hurry,” the latter whimpered when Chanyeol seemed lost in another daze while staring at the bottom half of his body. But as soon as the taller locked eyes with him, he regretted showing his eagerness.

Chanyeol clacked his tongue, his eyes having a daring glint in them. “So impatient,” he said before he leaned down to take the lobe of Baekhyun's ear between his teeth. “So needy.”

Baekhyun gasped when Chanyeol started grinding his hips against his after that last word rolled off his tongue. He pushed his ass back and tilted his head to the side when Chanyeol started kissing his neck. His eyes were trained on the mirror, though, and when he finally saw the head of Chanyeol's cock peeking from between his marked thighs, he felt his knees buckle. The feeling of the cold lube against his heated skin made him shiver.

“Fuck, Baby,” the younger moaned against Baekhyun's ear, before he licked the shell. He felt the smaller shake in his hold and absolutely loved the confused yet erotic expression on pretty face as he glanced at them via the mirror. “Like that?” he asked while slowly rocking his hips back and forth, getting used to the sensation of Baekhyun's shapely thighs squeezing his cock and watched him nod, his lips apart to let out shaky breaths.

With each thrust, more and more lube started sticking to Baekhyun's thighs, making the fucking go smoother.

It was slick, it was hot, it was lewd.

Chanyeol ran a hand up Baekhyun's chest as he kept thrusting his dick between his thighs, having found a pace that made him go delirious with lust. Once his fingers had reached the smaller's mouth, he took them between his lips and started sucking on them greedily.

Chanyeol grinned at how needy Baekhyun always was to have something to suck on. How desperate he always was to be filled. How hot he looked treating his fingers as though they were his dick.

Baekhyun moaned around Chanyeol's fingers when the latter resumed kissing his neck, leaving even more colourful hickeys there. He couldn't take his eyes off the sight of Chanyeol's cock appearing and disappearing between his thighs. He squeezed his legs together more in the hope the taller would like that -- which he did.

The lips came to a halt on his neck and he heard Chanyeol let out a low groan, which sent vibrations down to his groin, making his untouched cock twitch with want.

“H-Hot,” he muttered as Chanyeol pulled his fingers out of his mouth so he could wrap them around his throat instead and turned his head to the side so he could engage them in a sloppy kiss.

He leaned back against the taller's chest and moved his palm over the hand that was holding his throat. He moaned in rhythm with Chanyeol's thrusts and listened to the wanton squelching sound coming from between his legs.

The younger swallowed each of his lewd mewls, which were like fuel to his libido, until he pulled back from the dirty kiss to catch his breath. “God, you feel so good, Baby,” he grunted, his voice shaking as he kept rolling his hips, and looked into Baekhyun's watery eyes.

He moaned when he noticed the smaller was moving hips back against his thrusts and when he looked into the mirror after he had stilled his own movements, he almost came. The sight of Baekhyun desperately rolling his body back against his, fucking his own thighs on his dick, instantly sent him to Cloud 9.

He dug his nails in skin of the smaller's wide hips and started fucking his thighs again after a while of eating up the erotic sight that was his adorable boyfriend being so willing to make him feel good. Chuckling, he let Baekhyun guide his fingers back to his mouth and licked his lips when the other sucked them back into his hungry mouth. “You look so beautiful with my fingers in my mouth,” he whispered against the smaller's red ear, making him whimper.

“So beautiful, Baby, I might come just from looking at you…” He wasn't kidding. Baekhyun's thighs were deadly, so fuckable he was losing his mind. Each thrust, each slick sound, each moan brought him a little closer to the edge. And the sigh- oh the sight of their bodies moving together in the mirror…

He had a hard time holding on.

“I-I'm going to--” He got cut off by one of his own low moan when Baekhyun clenched his slick thighs around his sensitive shaft, causing his eyes to roll back into their sockets.

Shit. He was really close.

“Going to c-come, Baby,” he forced out, his breathing so very laboured that his words were almost inaudible.

But Baekhyun had heard -- loud and clear. And when Chanyeol pulled his cock from between his legs to jerk himself off, he turned around and dropped down to his knees. He closed his eyes and parted his lips right before Chanyeol came and felt him press the tip of his cock against his awaiting tongue before he started tasting his bitter yet tasty flavour inside his mouth.

Chanyeol shook as he came, forcing his eyes to stay open so he could drink up the sight of Baekhyun's pretty face getting covered in his cum. He came a lot. In thick white robes the smaller's greedy mouth so eagerly caught on his tongue.

Chanyeol accidentally spilled some on Baekhyun's chin and rosy cheeks as well, making him look so very slutty that his knees buckled. “Don't swallow,” he rasped as he saw Baekhyun close his mouth. He pulled him up on his feet before he pressed him against the mirror and latched their mouths together.

Baekhyun moaned when his heated skin came in contact with the cold mirror, causing him to part his lips against Chanyeol's. Whimpering, he let the taller drink his very own semen off his tongue and desperately arched his back to press their bodies together.

He mewled when Chanyeol wedged his knee between his legs and felt his neglected cock twitch inside the panties against the taller's thigh. His own thighs were trembling-- his whole body was trembling. He was so turned, and the fact they were swapping cum wasn't exactly helping his piteous state.

“My cum tastes so good when it comes from your mouth,” Chanyeol whispered, the words making Baekhyun whimper once again, before he started kissing and licking the spilled semen off the smaller's face. God. The obscenity of it all almost made him hard again.

“M-My turn...?” Baekhyun softly asked as Chanyeol was busy lapping up the cum from his cheeks. It embarrassed him to beg, but it was unfair. He was still hard. Chanyeol had had his fun, now it was his turn.

Grinning, the taller trailed his hand down Baekhyun’s chest, looking at all the places he could still create some hickeys, before he looked back up into the smaller’s pleading eyes. “Of course, Darling,” he said, as he walked backwards towards the bed. He let himself fall down when the back of his knees hit the edge and pulled Baekhyun with him, having him hovering above him with each lubed up thigh on each side of his leg. He smiled as he looked into the smaller's gorgeous eyes, which were a bit watery with tears of arousal.

“Make yourself come…” he ordered, both his hand on Baekhyun's ass, and pulled the other's hips down onto his thigh to give him an indication of what he wanted him to do. How he wanted him to get off.

Oh…

Baekhyun moaned upon feeling the friction between his cock and the taller's thigh and quickly bent down to hide his face in Chanyeol's neck. “N-No…” he mumbled, but started rolling his hips against the taller's thigh nonetheless, and moaned when big hands squeezed his behind. He needed the friction, loved the pleasure he got from it and couldn't stop once he had found a satisfactory rhythm.

Chanyeol's gentle hands were roaming all over his body: kneading his ass, fumbling his thighs, playing with his nipples, stroking his back.

He kept moaning into the taller's neck until said taller pulled his chin so he could kiss him again. He couldn't focus, though, and kissed Chanyeol back sloppily, feeling him smirk against his lips.

“Feeling good, Baby?” the younger asked as he pulled back from the kiss, their mouths still less than a centimetre apart. When Baekhyun nodded, he ran his fingers up his chest, feeling his muscles move. “Suck on them,” he said once his fingers had reached the elder's lips.

He felt his own jaw go slack when Baekhyun immediately followed his orders. He started sucking on his fingers so shamelessly, even sluttier than before. He twirled his tongue around them, drooled onto them, and gagged when Chanyeol pushed them further down his throat.

It horned him up, made him feel so very aroused to have Chanyeol studying him as he was riding his thigh while sucking on his fingers. He felt so lewd. So good.

“Getting close, sweetie?” Chanyeol asked, noticing how Baekhyun's hips were moving in an uneven rhythm, how he was shaking visibly, how he closed his eyes and stopped sucking as vigorously so he could concentrate on something else. “You're come in those cute panties of yours from riding my thigh?”

Oh, Chanyeol's dirty whisper against his ear only made him move his hips a little faster, a little needier.

“You're going to come for me?”

Baekhyun let Chanyeol's fingers slip out of his mouth as he threw his head back and started moaning wantonly while desperately rolling his hips, chasing his orgasm. He was close, so close, and when he felt wet fingers against his perky nipple he couldn't hold it back anymore.

With the taller's name on his tongue, he tipped over the edge, coming inside the panties so hard he almost lost his balance. His thighs were twitching and aching from Chanyeol gripping one of them tightly, his pelvis was shaking as he basked in the feeling of his sensitive cock rubbing against the wet fabric of his underwear, whiny moans were spilling from his lips in short breaths.

Chanyeol drank the hot sight with his thirsty eyes; his lips agape as he was moaning absentmindedly because his boyfriend looked so good whenever he was lost in heaven. “That's it, Baby,” he whispered before he let go of Baekhyun's juicy thigh and trailed his fingers up his sides to stroke his soft skin. He used his other hand to grab the back of smaller's neck and pulled him in for a slow, soft kiss to gently help him come down from his high.

Completely satisfied, but also a little embarrassed, the smaller smiled against Chanyeol's lips. His hips were still trembling and his limp dick felt uncomfortably sticky in its wet confines, but he felt so very content that he couldn't stop smiling.

“I love you,” Chanyeol whispered against Baekhyun's swollen lips before he softly chanted the words to make the smaller giggle. And with success. “My naughty but adorable baby boy.” He easily turned them around so he was on top and grabbed the other's legs. “Looking so beautiful and fuckable in these thigh highs…” He pulled the socks back up Baekhyun's thighs before his eyes fell upon the wet panties. Smirking, he looked into the smaller's bashful eyes. “Someone came a lot.”

“S-Shut up,” Baekhyun muttered. “You came even more.”

Chanyeol couldn't deny that. “I can't help it that your thighs are fucking phenomenal.”

“Better than my ass...?”

“Maybe,” he answered, just to tease, but when he saw Baekhyun pout, his heart clenched. “No, Baby, nothing beats your tight little ass… But your delicious thighs come pretty fucking close.”

Biting his lower lip to hold back a proud grin, Baekhyun felt his heart swell. “I love you too, Yeollie,” he whispered, returning Chanyeol’s love. He kissed the taller back when he pressed their lips together for the nth time. “Your cock feels good between my thighs…”

“Mmm, yeah?”

“Yeah… and you look good when you're fucking me…”

“Are you trying to make me hard again?”

Baekhyun giggled, pressing his open mouth against Chanyeol's while staring into his half-lidded eyes with a challenging look. “...Maybe--”

He got cut off by even more kisses that stole his breath, by little pecks that made him melt against the mattress, against Chanyeol, who took his time claiming his lips.

⚣

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jennygirl2014 · 5 years

Text

“Red Is Your Color”- requested fic Part 2

Warnings: language

First part here.

A week crept by slowly, painfully slowly. I wanted the days to fly by, to have as many days between the next moment and that painful moment at that stupid party as possible. But no matter how many days went by, that image was still burnt into my memory. Seeing Steve standing in that bathroom with that new pretty little piece, both of them caught in the act. I was cringing imagining what was happening before I knocked on that door. Where they kissing? Was he kissing her neck? If he had been, it would have been no wonder her skirt was hiked up.

Of all of the things I remembered about him, about us, I remembered his lips. His mouth was magic, it could cast a spell on me with all those sweet little words he loved to fill my ears with. And when his mouth made contact with my skin, I was cursed. Cursed with heat coursing through my veins, a deep heat that only he could cure. His mouth made me smile, it made me laugh, swear, salivate, sing, scream. And the bastard knew it. It wasn’t that his hands or his dick couldn’t work magic, I just always had a small obsession with that mouth of his. It commanded armies just as easily as his smile could sweep women off their feet. I guess I couldn’t blame that new girl too much for falling victim to his charm.

I wondered if he remembered anything about me. If any part of me haunted him at all, the way he was haunting me. I didn’t see how it was possible, he was somewhere else, I was the one who kicked him out, meanwhile I was staying in this apartment by myself. Sleeping in the same bed, making food for one instead of two, not fighting over the remote, doing dishes by myself. It was what most newly single women would appreciate, but it was like I was tiptoeing around a ghost. Every activity we had done, we had done together. So many of those things leading to him using that damn mouth on me.

I now had a king-sized bed that I could stretch out in, I could spread myself out like a starfish and sleep in any position I wanted. And yet, I still curled up on my side, like I was still his little spoon. The bed was cool now, the heat source that laid next to me was gone. The sheets were always neat, there was no such thing as being musked by the scent of two people who could not get enough of each other. I used to complain about the bed being too hot, always having to kick the blankets off, but not anymore. Now I needed all of the blankets, that bed would never be warm again, at least not warm enough to compare to the warmth I had become accustomed to.

Cooking was so much easier, I could cook for one, eat the food myself, and that was the end of it. Steve’s metabolism usually had me cooking in much larger quantities, he could eat enough for two or three men, and not gain an ounce. A casserole would last us two days at the most. He didn’t cook much, but that was a decision made on both of our parts. He simply didn’t belong in the kitchen, the one time he made us dinner we both ended up gagging. Although, perhaps the cutest thing I had ever witnessed was him bumbling around the kitchen to make me a cake for my birthday. It was a simple box cake, funfetti with chocolate icing and cheap sprinkles on top, and yet it was the best cake I had ever had. His face was like sunshine as he presented the poorly done cake to me. That humble cake was his toughest mission, but it made me the happiest girl in the world.

His lack of presence was everywhere, mocking me, taunting me, making me feel guilty and alone. I couldn’t sit on the couch without thinking about how we used to cuddle on it, or making out instead of watching a movie. I made him sleep out on that couch a couple times in the days leading up to our split. I had the bathroom all to myself, no longer taking turns getting ready, or taking turns in the shower, or just skipping taking turns and showering together. Showering together usually led to other things. A lot of things usually led to other things with us, until things went downhill.

The cost of that apartment was harder to manage on my own, but my pride wasn’t going to let me walk away from it. That would have meant that throwing the world’s hottest man out of my place, and out of my life, was like shooting myself in the foot. In all actuality it was, but I wasn’t going to admit that to anyone. I found ways to save money, eating more peanut butter sandwiches, not renting movies, no more daily lattes, walking to work instead of taking the bus. I put on my best face, showing everyone that I was a strong woman and it was me against the world, this break up was nothing. But everything felt like a punishment.

Walking home in the rain definitely felt like a punishment, but I had done that to myself. I felt pathetic, volunteering to stay a little later at work to earn a little extra cash, then missing my bus and having to hoof it without my umbrella. Oh yeah, I was winning at life. And what did I have to look forward to when I got home? Mac and cheese out of a box and collapsing on the couch to waste the night away, alone. I was speed walking to get out of the rain, not out of excitement to have a lonely boring evening. However, when I finally got to my apartment building and climbed the stairs to my door, my evening turned into anything but boring when I realized my door was unlocked.

I distinctly remembered locking it, because you really have to pull on the handle to make sure it locked. A cold chill immediately ran through my body, I had a good idea who was in my apartment. And if I was wrong, and it wasn’t my ex, then catching some robbers off guard would have been just as emotionally distressing. But still, I pushed the door open and stepped in anyway. The sound of someone rummaging through things in the kitchen instantly hit my ears, and it sounded like someone was putting stuff in a cardboard box. Robbers usually don’t steal pots and pans, so I knew who it was. As if my heart wasn’t beating out of my chest, I took large steps towards the kitchen and stopped in the doorway.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded. There was Steve, with his back to me, going through my cabinets and shoving things into a box that was sitting on the stove. He didn’t even bother turning to look at me.

“I came to get the rest of my stuff.” He replied so nonchalantly.

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really, I’ve waited almost a month for you to contact me about me getting my stuff, but since you don’t feel like being an adult…” he trailed off as he kept working. I could feel the angst in the air, I could have cut it with a knife if he wasn’t going to take those too.

“I don’t remember giving you permission—” he cut me off.

“Permission?” he scoffed as he finally turned to look at me, “I don’t need permission to take what I bought. And like I said, I texted you, but you never replied.”

“I got no such text.”

“Then you probably blocked me, which was stupid, especially because I pay for your phone.” He paused and thought, “Which by the way, I’m giving you notice, I’ll be shutting that off.”

“What?!” my skin started boiling.

“You don’t expect me to pay for my ex-girlfriend’s phone, do you? I mean, I’m a nice guy, but I’m not stupid.” He explained, and I felt like kicking myself for not thinking of that sooner. “Oh, and those monthly subscriptions you get on your TV, those are going too.”

“What am I supposed to do without a phone?!” I barked.

“You’re a smart girl, you’ll figure out how to get another one. Or you’ll find some other guy to get you one.”

“So you break into my apartment to take all of my stuff and attack me?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he stopped and held up a hand in caution, “First of all, I didn’t break in, I have a key. I used to live here too you know.”

“And make sure you leave that key here!” I fired back the only thing I could think of.

“Don’t worry I will! Second, how am I attacking you?!” we were arguing and I didn’t even think about the neighbors and whether they could hear us or not. I was far too upset to care anyway.

“I feel attacked! You come in here while I’m at work and start taking stuff and telling me—!” I stopped yelling when I didn’t know what else to say. What could I say that didn’t make me sound pathetic?

“Telling you what?” he leaned his elbow on the box and lifted a brow, “That I won’t be taking care of you anymore? Funny how you hated me working so much but loved living off of my wages.” He dug the knife in further. “I told you, over and over again, but you didn’t want to listen. It wasn’t me trying to avoid you, or start a fight, or ignore you, it wasn’t anything personal, it was work.” He shifted and looked around the kitchen. “But now, it’s over, you made that very clear when you tossed my clothes off of the balcony.” He pointed at something and raised a brow again, inquisitively. “Did you buy that coffee maker?”

“N…no.” I had to struggle to find words.

“Ah, that’s right.” He walked over to it briskly, cocky and full of confidence. He unplugged the machine and brought it next to the large box. “I better take it back before it ends up going over the balcony railing too.” He just kept hammering away at what was left of my heart. I had never seen this side of him. It was awful. I hated it.

I had to fight back with something and not just stand there like an idiot. “Who is she?” I croaked out.

“Who?” he didn’t bother looking at me again as he went through the cabinet with all of our cups and mugs.

“You know damn well, who.” My voice was so low I wondered if he could hear me, “The woman I saw you with at the party.”

“Oh. You mean when you interrupted us in the bathroom?” he took another jab. So I was interrupting something, I thought so.

“Yes, that woman. Who is she?” I wanted to know so badly. He pointed a sharp finger at me.

“You don’t get to ask me about who I’m with. We aren’t together. And since we aren’t together, it’s okay for me to meet other women. I’m sure you’ve had someone else in here since I left.” He added the last part just to insult me.

“She was cute.” A sinister, evil, nasty side of me started to creep up. I should have swallowed it down but I couldn’t. “Did you flex your muscles? Did you save her kitty from a tree? Any girl would gladly throw themselves at Captain America.” I crossed my arms as he stopped shuffling, “Did you?” I rolled my jaw and sucked my teeth with seething anger. “Did she call you Captain while you pet her kitty?” I threw that little inuendo in there just to watch him turn red.

“Don’t be disgusting.” He challenged me.

“What? Her skirt was pulled up a bit, her face was all red.” I took a step towards him, “Like maybe she was…clawing at that shirt I gave you last year…” I raised my tone to make my point, “While you were trying to work your way to that honey pot.”

“Shut up!” he suddenly turned and shouted at me, “You don’t get to question me about my life and what I’ve been up to! Not anymore.”

“You wanted me because I was the only girl who wasn’t throwing herself at you. You told me you like to be the chaser.” I held my arms out, “Well I guess it’s raining pussy now isn’t it? Who wouldn’t take advantage of it?” he ignored me as he placed more mugs in the box. “Is she a girlfriend? Or a girlfriend for the night?”

“God, when did you become so nasty?” he shook his head at me with disgust. “What did I do to make you so bitter? You kicked me out, remember?”

“Well for starters, you’re taking my coffee machine.” I nodded at it next to his pile of belongings. He huffed and looked at me, dead in the eye.

“I bought it, and I need one for my new place.” He explained to me.

“With her? Did you get a place with that pretty little piece of ass?” I taunted him. He sighed and reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. Without another word, he removed his key from his key ring and held it up for me to see, making sure I watched him place it on the counter. Then he picked up the box in one arm and the coffee machine in the other.

“Have a nice life.” He bid me goodbye, for what seemed like the last time. With a large stride he made his way to the door, past where I stood with a dumb look on my face, and out he went, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

He was gone.

Final part here.

#chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fan fic #requested fic

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mysweetestcreature · 6 years

Text

Wish Upon A Star (StepBro!Harry) Part IX

Part VIII

***

The bed is all too good at its seduction, with sheets that entangle her limbs, a pillow that might as well be a cloud, and the warm body that guards her back possessively. But it’s only a few more solemn minutes of enjoying the comfortable silence until a disturbance drags her out of dreamland. Her hand feels around for the phone vibrating on the side table. She squints her eyes and reads her assistant’s name that flashes on the screen.

“Hello?” her greeting is drawn out by a long yawn that reaches octaves to put an opera singer to shame.

“About time you picked up! Do you not know how long I’ve been trying to call you?”

“Isn’t it a bit early to be calling?” she glances at the clock, 8:09 am, “It’s like three in the morning over there.” Harry stirs next to her, his arm wraps around her figure and pulls her against his torso. He snuggles his face into the slope of her neck, his hot breath caressing the vulnerable flesh.

“Actually, it’s 8:09, oh wait, now it’s 8:10! Anyway, I need you to pick me up.”

“I don’t think I follow,” she replies.

“I just landed in Heathrow, so hurry up because airplane food does not satisfy. Oh, and I also need a place to stay, so thanks in advance!” Before she can ask any more questions, he’s saying his goodbyes and ending the call. The screen goes black, and she’s met with a reflection of her face staring back at her.

Earnest kisses press across her shoulder blade, the feeling of his morning stubble tickles her bare skin. She turns in his hold and lazily connects their mouths, her fingers lightly tugging at the astray locks of his messy hair as his own outline down her soft curves.

“Morning, my love,” he rasps, smacking her lips again. He shuffles on top of her and presses more kisses along her jaw and down under her chin. His movements are setting themselves up to become more sensual and it is only a matter of time until they’re joined together for the nth time in five days.

“Wait, we need to-” but she stops when he begins teasing the spot below her ear, the stubble on his upper lip grazing over her lobe. What was she meant to do again? The memory is fuzzy for a couple of moments, but the orders––and who would have thought that her assistant would be giving her orders––are soon brought to the forefront of her mind. “We’ve got to go the airport.”

He looks at her with furrowed brows and panic begins to set in as she feels his muscles begin to tense over her. “I thought you weren’t leaving for four more days?” Y/n shakes her head and gives him a reassuring kiss.

“My assistant apparently took some unauthorized vacation time, and now he’s here,” she slips out from under him, and sits up to place her feet on the fluffy carpet. But he’s got his arms locked around her waist. “Harry, c’mon. I’m sure you’ve gotten enough,” she teases. She glances over her shoulder to see him shaking his head like a stubborn child.

“Can never get enough of you, love,” he says cheekily.

***

William knew there was something off about the situation, but never did he expect this. He’s been parked across the street from Harry’s apartment complex since the crack of dawn, waiting for him to come out. It’s definitely plausible that Y/n is staying with him. When a black Range Rover comes into view, he eyes the architect’s face in the driver’s seat, with Y/n sitting beside him. He ducks down until they’ve driven past him, then asks his driver to follow the car.

The rest of the windows are tinted black, blocking his view of them. They drive miles and miles, until the airport pops up in the distance. Maybe she’s booked herself an earlier flight?

“Just stay here,” he orders the driver. He watches as Harry backs into a spot and turns off the ignition. Now he’s got a clear view of the two through the windshield. She’s laughing at something, but he’s never been skilled at reading lips. Why are they just sitting there? It looks like they’re just talking, and for a quick moment he thinks he’s lost all sensibility.

“What the fuck?” he growls as he watches Y/n reach across the console to the driver’s seat. Harry smirks at her before he sticks his tongue down her throat. “What a slut!” he snares. He knew there had to be a reason why she never mentioned him, but this? He was not expecting this at all! It’s completely revolting, and undeniably incestuous!

***

Age 18:

The sun beams brightly over their childhood treehouse. It has been years since either of them bothered to climb the wooden planks. But as the weather shifts to nicer, more pleasant temperatures, it would be a shame to let such a beautiful day go to waste (especially with all the tensions rising in their home). So here they lay on the blanket spread on the floor within the confines of their mini palace. He’s been reading through the old comic books that he’d left up here. It’s a miracle that they’ve been able to withstand the tests of time. She reads along with him from where her head rests on his chest.

“Wait! I wasn’t done reading that,” she complains, and quickly turns back the page.

“Oi, you’re going to tear it,” he retorts. He lets out a sigh and waits for her to get through it. When a minute––but he really isn’t counting––passes, he speaks up again. “You done?”

She rolls off of him and on to her stomach. Her eyes wander over the little shelves nailed to the wall. All the toys that had never made it back to the ground. Yet, only a meager layer of dust engulfs them, and she’s starting to think that Eric comes up here to clean. On the top middle shelf are two of her Barbie dolls. One wears a purple princess dress, complete with a tiny tiara atop her head. The other, which she remembers as her favorite growing up, is dressed in a classic halter wedding dress with sequins and beads sown into the corset.

“You think my dress will be as pretty as that?” she asks. Harry follows her eyes, turning to find her staring at the doll.

“It’s a nice dress,” he muses, “but I think yours would be prettier.” A cheeky smile spreads over his face, and he puts the comic book down to cross his hands behind his head.

His love gives him the cutest look, as she saddles a leg over him. “Tell me more about our wedding,” she dreamily asks, as she traces patterns along his abdomen. The butterflies are back and flutter about in her tummy.

“Alright, well,” he starts, one of his hands land to graze over her thigh, “I’m going to give you your dream wedding, the one you used to tell me loads about when we were small. It’ll be in one of those fancy gardens with hedge mazes. We’ll have a rose gold motive, of course, seeing as you’ve already got the necklace to match, hmm. You’ll have the most beautiful dress, make all those other brides jealous. It’ll be Vera Wang, or whatever designer you’ve got your heart set on. All I’m asking is that I can easily slip it off you,” he smirks. She giggles and falls down on his chest to snuggle him, her ear resting over his steady heartbeat. “Got to promise me that you won’t start crying during our vows though. Because you know that I’ll start crying and our guests won’t be able to understand anything coming out of our blubbering mouths.”

“I make no promises,” she responds. Just the thought of their wedding has her about ready to burst into tears of happiness.

He sighs to feign annoyance, “I guess that’s fine. As long as I get to call you Mrs. Styles by the end of it all, it’s all fine by me.”

“Hmm, ‘Mrs. Styles,’ I do like the sound of that,” she says, then pecks his lips. He cups both her cheeks to keep her there for longer. His tongue licks along her bottom lip, and she opens it just wide enough for him to slip it in.

She moves against him, her ass rubbing over his cock every time. “Driving me mad,” he groans into her mouth. His hands guide her to grind over his growing erection even harder. She breaks their kiss, moving herself lower down his body. Her fingers hook through the waistband of his basketball shorts, and she slowly pulls them down his legs.

“Someone’s excited,” she muses at the tent of his boxers. His breath hitches in his throat when she strokes him through the fabric.

“Don’t tease me, pet,” he warns, but any essence of intimidation is lost. She slowly inches them off, he raises his hips to make it easier for her. He whimpers as she pumps him with her hand, stroking him at an almost offensive pace.

“What else do you have planned for our big day?” she draws out, letting some of her saliva drop down into her hand to use as lubrication. “I want to hear all about it.”

“I-” but he’s too consumed in her actions to speak. She squeezes him, and he bucks into her in response. “I’m thinking it’ll just be close friends and family, yeah?” he gulps. “If Mum and Dad d-don’t come around by then, we can get Gregoire to give you away.”

She brings her mouth to ghost over his balls, “That sounds perfect,” she replies. She peppers small kisses over one of them, before she wraps her lips around it to suck on.

“And for our honeymoon,” he sucks in a shallow breath, “I’m thinking we can go back to Santorini. Can give you a proper l-loving on the beach…fuck, baby, taking me so well.” Her head bobs over his cock, the tip of him hitting the back of her throat. “And maybe we can-can…” the words are lost, and his eyes roll to the back of his skull as he enjoys the warm and wet sensation of the vibrations from her hums.

He pulls her back to his lips, hands sliding down her body to remove her jean shorts. Another groan releases into the air when he feels just how wet she already is. “Want you to ride me,” he murmurs. With one last kiss, she slides back down, positioning herself over the head. She sinks down, her teeth nearly biting through her bottom lip. She allows herself a moment to adjust. Her walls stretch to accommodate around him.

His hand slips underneath her shirt past her bra. He rolls her pebbled nipple between his fingers, flicking over the erect bud to elicit that delicious moan of hers. She uses his chest as support, as she rises up and falls back on his cock in even takes. “Keep talking,” she pants out.

“We can go backpacking through Europe as well,” he hisses as her nails drag over his flesh. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? I could make love to you in every country.” She nods her head. He feels her fluttering around him.

“Baby, I’m close,” she whines, picking up her pace and bouncing roughly over him. Her own fingers launch at her sensitive nub, while he finds the strength to meet her thrusts her halfway. One hard pounding, and he’s filling her up to the brim. The feeling of him coating her walls prompts her own climax, and she lets out a cry of pure ecstasy.

The sounds of their panting are accompanied by the natural sounds of the outside. In the next yard over, they can hear the neighbor’s kids splashing around in their pool. Harry’s eyes wander over the walls of the treehouse. What was once a beacon for childhood adventure has just been severely tainted of its innocence.

***

Present Day:

They walk hand in hand into the airport. Harry still isn’t quite sure why he’s here, or who they’re looking for, but he allows himself to be dragged along, nevertheless. Heathrow seems to be more crowded than usual, for an ordinary day, he notices. All around them, there are parents reuniting with their children, husbands reuniting with their wives, and friends reuniting with friends. It’s a heartwarming scene to witness. He tugs on Y/n’s hand, bringing her close enough to give her a sweet kiss. “I love you,” he says against her. She laughs when she pulls away, wiping her thumb across his bottom lip to remove any essence of her nude-shade lipstick.

“You’re such a nut!” she chuckles before nuzzling her nose into his neck.

“Well, shit. You’re even more gorgeous in person,” they turn their heads to the voice. “What took you so long? Did you get lost?” he playfully rolls his eyes. Y/n releases herself from Harry’s grasp, and hugs the person tightly.

“You’ve got some explaining to do! What are you doing here? And oh my god, who’s taking my phone calls?” she lightly swats Miguel’s shoulder when she pulls away. The two large suitcases by his side are much bigger than she anticipated, but then again, he has never been known to be a light packer.

“We’ll talk business later, but first,” he steps around her, “I think you need you to properly introduce me to someone.”

Y/n attaches herself back to Harry’s side. “Harry, this is Miguel, my assistant. Miguel this is Harry, whom I’m sure you know plenty about.” She pretends not to see the smirk on Harry’s face.

Harry extends his hand out to Miguel. “Nice to meet you, mate,” he greets.

“Believe me, the pleasure is all mine, and can I say that the pictures do not do you any justice,” Miguel replies. All Instagram posts that he and Y/n spent time looking at while working late at the office were nothing compared to the real thing. “Anyway, where are we eating? A ten hour flight, and all they fed me was questionable pizza.”

“There’s this place not far from here, has the best Thai food, if you’re interested,” Harry replies. He wraps an arm around Y/n’s shoulder and leads them to the exit.

“No, that’s fine! I’ll eat anything at this point,” Miguel chirps as he drags both suitcases along. “Could you maybe-” but he notices that the couple is nearly ten steps ahead, already lost in conversation amongst themselves.

***

Miguel sits in the back seat of Harry’s Range Rover, carefully observing his boss and the man she’d been pining for since the day they’ve met. Harry drives with one hand on the wheel, while the other is clasped with Y/n’s. He watches as Harry kisses her knuckles every so often, and how she’ll bring their tangled fingers to cushion her cheek. Their actions, as he witnesses, are like an unconscious effort. When he first started working for Y/n, he had heard stories about them growing up and falling in love, then breaking up due to extraneous circumstance.

It’s a story right out of a movie. Childhood sweethearts, soulmates, finding their way back into each other’s arms. Much like Love, Rosie…except instead of friends, they’re step-siblings, and Y/n isn’t pregnant––but who can say for sure because she’s absolutely glowing, from what he assumes is the amazing sex they’ve been having. He creates a reminder on his phone to start writing the novel.

“So, are you going to tell me now?” Y/n twists around to ask him.

“Okay, so get this: I’m sitting in your office, the phone has been ringing nonstop––oh by the way, Debbie called, she wants to have lunch––and Mr. Sengle called and…”

Y/n stares at him intently, edging him to go on. But Miguel holds on to the moment a while longer, enjoying how frustrated she’s getting. “Spit it out!” she all but yells.

“So, Harry, Y/n tells me that you’re an architect. Do you have any projects in progess?” he inquires.

“Yeah, I just met with the new clients yesterday, actually. They’re looking to expand their hotel chain to the riverside. Want a modern design,” Harry states. Yesterday, he’d brought Y/n with him to the office. For years, all of his coworkers had teased him about rarely going on any dates or never having a serious relationship. Nosey, is what they are.

Well, the joke was on them when they laid eyes on his love.

He takes his eyes off the road for just a second to glance at Y/n. He chuckles to himself when he sees the puppy dog eyes she’s brought out as her weapon. “You should just tell her; those eyes will follow you to your grave.”

“Alright, alright! So, the reason I’m here is because Mr. Sengle is suggesting––well more like ordering––you to move to the company’s London branch! I just thought I’d get a head start in finding my own place. And don’t worry, before I left, I recruited all the interns to pack up your belongings in your apartment. They should be arriving at your parent’s house in about a week.” Miguel watches as the information slowly begins to set in, and she goes from utter shock to complete excitement.

“Are you serious? You’re not joking? This is-oh my god! Baby, did you hear that?” Luckily, they’ve hit a red light, and she’s leaning over the seat to give him full kiss on the lips.

“Looks like I’ve got myself a roommate,” he says, and then he’s kissing her again. They’re too consumed with one another to notice that the light’s turned green, that is until the cars behind them aggressively honk their horns. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Harry groans, placing his foot back on the gas.

“Ok, but if you guys are going to be packing on the PDA, at least help me find a man of my own,” Miguel rolls his eyes. It’s annoying how cute they are. Justice for all the singletons out there.

***

Y/n wonders if it was mistake arriving together. Would they disapprove again? Although, now that she’s twenty-four, they really have no say in who she chooses to love. As they stroll up the walkway to front door, her nerves are on fire. Harry’s been telling her to relax, but that’s not an easy task to accomplish. Before either one of them can ring the bell, the door swings open, revealing their overexcited parents. “Welcome home!” Anne chirps, bringing both in for a hug. “You arrived together?” she questions when she notices just one car in the driveway.

“Don’t badger them with questions, they’ve only just arrived,” Eric jokingly scolds. He looks behind his children and sees a stranger. Unless he’s hallucinating, he’s almost positive that the man isn’t William. “I’m sorry, and who are you?”

Anne slaps his shoulder, “Look who’s doing the interrogations now.”

“Miguel Garcia, I work for your daughter,” he says as he goes in for a hug. “Aw, it’s so great to finally meet you two.”

***

Lunch seems to be going well. It’s almost like old times, the four of them sitting around the table chatting the others’ ears off. Eric can’t help but lean back in his seat and admire his family. He can’t remember the last time they were all seated together. No harsh glares, or yelling, or anything of that nature.

He watches closely at his two children. They’re smiling at each other in the same way they did six years ago, before they got caught. And it only just crosses his mind that maybe it isn’t too late for them.

“The food was great, thanks, Mum,” Harry says, patting his stomach for emphasis.

Anne grins at him, “Not a problem, bub.” She too has been watching them carefully, and if her intuition is correct, there’s a reason why William isn’t here today. But she refuses to meddle, not after what happened the last time. “You guys go into the living room, I’ll put the kettle on, yeah?”

The rest of them take their seats on the couches and recliners. Eric asks Harry about work, and Y/n and Miguel listen as Harry explains in elaborate detail his plans for the hotel’s design.

“And I’m thinking maybe all glass walls, the rooms would be one-sided of course.”

Eric nods his head in agreement, “Couldn’t make it more modern even if you tried.” They share a laugh and continue on with the conversation. Miguel nudges Y/n with his elbow.

“Think you’re going to tell them today?” he whispers to her. And honestly, she doesn’t know. At this point, there’s no good in hiding that they’re back together. They’re grown adults who have been through too much for anyone to say no to them.

She watches as Eric excuses himself when the doorbell rings. “Should we tell them?” she asks Harry once she’s sure her dad is out of earshot. Just as he’s about to state his opinion, he’s interrupted.

“Sweetheart?” Eric calls to Y/n.

“Yeah?” She turns around and gasps at what she sees. “What are you doing here?”

William walks through the living room, examining each photo hung on the wall. Knowing what he now knows, he grimaces at each one. “Not happy to see me, Dollface?” he says arrogantly. “Why, you didn’t tell me you guys were having a little family get together. I’m offended that I wasn’t invited.” He takes menacing steps towards her, but of course, Harry blocks him off from getting any closer.

“You shouldn’t be here, mate,” he warns as his eyes narrow in on him. Y/n clutches his arm, signing to him not do anything too rash. The atmosphere that encompasses them is thick with tension. It’s almost as though no one can breathe.

The intruder lets out a low laugh. “You’re an awfully protective brother, aren’t you?” He darts his eyes towards Anne. “Fine children you’ve raised. It’s amazing how close they are.”

Does he know? But how? The questions run through Y/n’s head. There’s something almost sinister about the man’s demeanor. “In fact, I’d say they’ve overstepped any boundaries all together.”

Four pairs of eyes exchange weary looks. Y/n comes out from behind Harry, and grabs William by the arm to lead him outside. He follows her, smirking at Harry before waltzing out the door.

“What’s the matter with you?” she shrieks at him. “We’re broken up. O-VER. I don’t see why you’re acting this way.”

“Why’d you break up with me, huh? Because we both know it wasn’t because I hooked up with some chic,” he counters.

Y/n lifts her hands up in exasperation. “You want to know why? Ok, I’ll tell you. I don’t love you, I don’t even think I like you very much, to be honest.” It was never her intention to give it to him like this, but he’s overstepped the line.

“Why not? Too busy dropping your panties for your brother?” he shoots back at her. “Thought I wouldn’t find out, didn’t you? I never pegged you as a whore, Y/n. Because that’s all you are, aren’t you? A cheap little whore.”

“What the fuck did you just say?” Harry charges at him, but Y/n does her best to hold him back. She cups the side of his face and whispers for him to calm down. His nostrils are flaring in anger, and his eyes are hard as stone.

Eric, Anne, and Miguel rush outside. Anne holds Harry by the shoulder when she sees the drastic rise and fall of his chest.

“What the hell is going on here?” Eric shouts at them. He stands in between the two men, looking between the two for an explanation for the raucous.

William shakes his head, “Mr. and Mrs. Y/l/n. I think you should know what your kids have been doing behind your backs.” All Eric does is lift an unamused eyebrow at him. “They’re in some kind of relationship! I saw them with my own two eyes. It’s absolutely disgusting!” He waits for a violent reaction to erupt from the older couple, but he feels himself shrink back when they remain stoic. “I don’t think you heard me: your kids are fucking each other.”

“And so?” Eric sighs.

“Doesn’t that bother you? They’re brother and sister!” William screeches. This is not how he expected this scene to play out. “Don’t you know how much of a slut your daught-”

A fist collides with his nose, and he’s left leaning against the car for support. “Correction: they’re step-siblings. Not a single ounce of the one’s blood runs through the other’s veins,” Eric nonchalantly replies. Y/n and Harry stare at him with shock, before turning to each other. From behind, Anne has a smile on her face.

William clutches his nose, squealing pathetically when he sees the blood rub off on his hands. “You’re all fucked up, all of you! Have fun rotting in hell.” He quickly opens the car door and jumps in, and they watch it speed away. But before it can too far, Miguel throws a rock at its rear.

“That’s right, run away, you coward!” he shouts after it.

“Daddy,” Y/n moves closer to her father and touches his arm. Eric gives her a soft smile, and suddenly she’s engulfing him in the tightest hug he’s received in years. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry for everything,” he says against her hair. She nods and wipes away the tears that have cascaded from his eyes. He motions to Harry, reaching out for his son. “There’s nothing I can say to take it all back, but I just hope that one day you guys can forgive me.”

“I’m so sorry too,” Anne comes forward, “we’re so sorry for doing the things we did. We should’ve handled the situation better.” Harry wraps an arm around his mum and kisses the top of her head. “Seriously, you two should have never broken up in the first place. Harry, I saw how miserable you were when she left. I’m sorry we did that to you.”

“Aw, and I’m sorry for calling you both terrible parents,” Miguel adds, and launches himself around Harry’s waist.

“Excuse me?” Anne questions, eyebrows rising to her hairline.

“It was a long time ago, before I knew what delightful people you two are,” he explains. “Yay, group hug!”

***

It’s nearly midnight when they arrive back to Harry’s flat. Miguel, who is thoroughly exhausted and stuffed with Anne’s cooking, retires to the guest room and bids the couple a goodnight.

The smile hasn’t wiped itself off of Y/n’s face since she watched her dad punch William earlier today. Seeing William quiver in fear, now that is one for the books. Harry notices her amusement and pulls her towards him by the waist. “What are you smiling about?”

“I’m just happy,” she wraps her arms around his neck. “Everything is falling into place. I don’t have to go back to New York, Mum and Dad are onboard with our relationship, and now we’re roomies!” she giggles. “I think we just crossed everything off the list.”

He leans in and kisses her softly, pulling her flush against him. “Hmm, I think we forgot something,” he murmurs into her mouth. Y/n pulls away and raises a confused eyebrow at him. “I promised you that I would put a ring on your finger.”

“Harry…” she covers over her mouth when he gets on one knee.

“Didn’t expect to do this tonight, but with everything that’s happened today–– don’t even have the ring yet, but I can’t think of a more perfect time,” he starts. “I fell in love with you when I was six years old, and eighteen years later I’m still crazy about you. You mean everything to me, hell, you are my everything.” The tears begin to pool in her eyes, and he reaches up to wipe them away, mumbling for her not to cry. “And not even the six years of separation or stupid snobby boyfriend can change how much I love you. Y/n, I love you so much and all I want is to have a life with you and to have little bubs of our own. Because, baby, you’re it for me.” His heart is pounding, but in the best way possible. Now he too has tears falling down his cheeks. Y/n stands there, ready to give her answer. He doesn’t even need to ask her because he’s all she’s wanted her entire life.

“Be my Mrs. Styles?”

***

A/N: 👀Only one more part left! What did you all think? Have we forgiven Eric and Anne completely? And let’s all welcome Miguel into the family!

Comments, questions, concerns? Tell me here!

#stepbro!harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader

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resmarted · 4 years

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i am golden embers from the oldest burnt out flame that somehow manages to stay alive well past the party. i don’t know how we got here, but i’m drawing little cartoon skulls on the back of your hand and ruminating on death culture and our historical fascination with it, not to mention this modern day obsession. wake up, i’m worrying at you. i know, it’s been a long time since we’ve talked like this, in this house with all the windows open for anyone to be able to look in and see. me, a shameless blubbering idiot and you, an omnipresent interdimensional being that changes names and faces depending on what time of day it is. i wish we could be friends like normal and not these shapeshifting spaces that descend and disappear before they can even get a chance to form. i’m out of practice, but shall we? i am the cutest boy in school, (get over it, i just am.) and you are my closest friend. at least you were when we were kids, before puberty made things weird and gender norms influenced the politics of our relationship. back when life was endless summers in a treehouse and i was the only dude in your life besides your dad, and then even more significantly when he left. we were such pure vessels of innocence, or at least i was, you were more of a terrorist in an young girl’s body. we spend our days playing with your barbies, one of many secrets we take to our graves, and we have intricate plot lines for each of their relationships. i make scenery for them out of legos, a lawn to lounge on and a clunky castle to sleep, they even had a hot tub. we have an entire world that nobody knows about and eleven thousand inside jokes based within it, this galactic sandbox that goes on for miles where nobody can hurt us. in seventh grade two boys from our school come over and spot the dolls laying in the corner of the treehouse and they give me hell for it, and i mean it gets really bad. they carelessly pull apart their tiny clothes, some of them handmade by your aunt, and hold them up like torches made of naked plastic flesh. it is startling and i know fighting them will only make it worse, will only turn them into even bigger deviants, so i don’t provoke them any further and take all necessary precaution to keep it from happening again. admittedly, this is where shit starts to hit the fan with us. i tell you the next day you can’t bring them in here anymore, and that this is not a storage facility for your girl stuff, to which you respond with a look only the demon possessed child that you are could invoke. we don’t talk for what turns out to be the longest week of my life, and i try to compromise because i miss you terribly and all of our stories, how are all of our characters (ripped directly from episodes of 90210) even doing right now? i ask what if we just, yknow, not use the dolls anymore, but still play the game. we finally come to an agreement and spend the rest of the year lounging around telling stories in the air, playing without the physical evidence, just these long sagas that never get written down or repeated or acted out with dolls of any kind.

you’re growing up faster than i am, your body is developing first and you got a nice set of big naturals before we even get to high school. and what am i supposed to do, not notice? i try not to. i try to act like it’s totally not making me feel any type of way when you start to experiment with makeup and of course i’m not jealous of the boy band members you secretly fawn over when no one from school is around to make fun of you. what do all these meatheads got that i don’t got? besides muscles and money and matching wardrobes with dope harmony skills. i magically take up guitar the next summer and whenever you start to talk about another hollywood hunk i am just like so anyway, here’s wonderwall. you never seem to catch on, never showing to have the slightest clue, and over time our stories become fewer and farther between because you’ve got new daydreams now. you’ve grown tired of the dramatics in our pretend romances and you want a real one. you want jake who has a mustache and works at gadzooks in the mall or bryan who is always hogging the pinball machine at skate country. i call him a dweebmunch and you just drift further away from me. by high school we barely know each other, you can hardly even remember i exist as you join all these teams and squads and athletic girl gangs, and i still haven’t lost my baby fat. you’re dating marcus who plays defense on our school’s football team and at some point the new normal becomes this sort of familiar strangers vibe where we barely acknowledge each other when passing in the halls but wave to each other’s families when passing them in real life. we don’t actually talk again until prom night when you show up drunkenly to my backyard like the last four years never even happened. your mascara is running and your dress is torn, your pretty hairdo that took hours at the salon that day is all disheveled, and you hold a bottle of wine to your lips like it’s water. you are barely able to steady yourself long enough to climb up into the treehouse where you find me choking on a hit of weed with a look of terror like i’ve just seen a ghost. technically i have. you slur your words and ask me for a hit and i’m terrified of you, just take whatever you want, you monstrous beauty queen. you tell me that you hate your boyfriend but don’t go into detail, that prom sucks and your friends suck and everyone is fake and nobody will even be able to outgrow this version of themselves because their parents never did, and at one point you’re holding up the bottle yelling with burgundy stained teeth that nobody in this town cares about anything other than football. which is true, it’s just one of those towns where our whole identity is based on touchdowns and score boards because that’s all anybody’s got to live for. you curl up in a corner, finding a couple of your old dolls safe and secure and you smile at me, saying you thought they weren’t allowed up here anymore. i don’t even look back at you when stating that obviously abby and olivia don’t count since they are notorious rule breakers. you hold one up to sit atop my shoulder and talk in one of your stupid voices, requesting a live rendition of wonderwall. don’t be silly, i’m eighteen now, i’m too cool for oasis and have upgraded to strictly radiohead, the bends album specifically. we start to argue like we are ten all over again when you insist i am just being pretentious because i can’t acknowledge the obvious golden child that is karma police, and without thinking i retort that i’d rather be pretentious than pretend i’m dumb just to fit in with those who are. you knock me square in the jaw with your trusty right hook and i land harder than you expected. you’re not even concerned, and why would you be? you’re three sheets to the wind and screaming things like you think i wanted things to end up this way? you gave up first, if you would have just been a real friend to me none of this ever would have happened. you’re crying hysterically now like all good prom nights end, and i am rubbing the sore spot on my face.

i don’t fight you though, i know better. instead i just bundle you up and put you to bed like the little trainwreck that you are, and in the morning when the birds chirp and the sun fills this tiny space, you can’t remember how you got here or why your head is pounding so hard now. i am sitting up reading a burroughs novel because i’m cultured and mysterious now, with a thermos of coffee already waiting for you. you lean over to puke outside and it lands twenty feet below, and you hate when i tell everyone this story because i always say that’s the part where i knew i loved you. but it’s true, i had never been more certain of anything in my life than when i saw you hurling out this red river across the yard and thought how nice it was to have you back around, if even for a very delirious moment in a state of great confusion. we get breakfast at a diner we used to fantasize about being old enough to go to without our parents someday, and somehow that manages to be the beginning of the first of many best summers of our lives. now we’re old enough to go all kinds of places without our parents, and it’s still very novel for us to hold hands in public and be out past curfew. somehow we manage to stay these wild eyed teenagers no matter how old we get, and i wouldn’t want to grow young with anyone else.

#long reads

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monohart · 7 years

Text

married life with seongwoo.

so you’ve never really been a morning person.

it’s a saturday morning and the family was supposed to attend the school fair.

… not that you particularly wanted to

but seongwoo looked forward to this all week. his little girl was performing.

for the first time

he was probably going to cry

and he’d be shaking with excitement as he film her on stage with a mini camcorder.

the one he insisted on buying last week which he probably will never use again…

ANYWAY !!! -

it’s morning, and you’re still asleep.

seongwoo sees that you’re still asleep. he flips himself around, but carefully so that he doesn’t wake you.

he fails to hide the bashful grin on his face as he memorises every detail of your sleeping face.

because he’s just so whipped for you and even after all these years since the wedding, he can’t believe you’re his.

he used to feel anxious every time daniel came over because you’d have that small smile on your lips.. the kind he’s never seen on you before.

but when he asks, you say “oh, it’s not like that. i love daniel too, but it’s nothing like we have.”

you knew you loved your then boyfriend more than anything and anyone. daniel knew that too. you two just enjoyed teasing him.

but maybe that’s also why daniel was forbidden to come over for a good few months.

it wasn’t until your long awaited honeymoon, that seongwoo knew that you were his. only his.

his grin widened at the thought and he couldn’t stop thinking how beautiful you were, even with your eyebrows slightly furrowed and the lack of sleep evident below your eyes.

then, you can feel his steady, warm breath against your nose, which aroused you from slumber.

you kinda knew he was watching you

but you didn’t want him to know of course lol because you just loved poking fun at him.

so you kinda just lay there pretending to be asleep

and he continues to watch you

and slowly moves his hands around your waist to pull you closer to him

because he loved to cuddle in the mornings, and during the weekdays he never got the chance.

either you had to get up before dawn for your shift or he wasn’t released from the studio until midday.

which by then you were well awake and busy with the kids

so he would usually sleep alone, or if you took a nap with him, he’d be too worn out to notice.

so he cherishes the moment and tightens his grip on you.

then you can’t hold it in anymore because you’re tic kl is h a s he ck !!!

so you snap open your eyes and burst out laughing.

he screams and you clamp your hand over his mouth so he won’t wake the twins.

gosh if the twins were awake there’ll be no peace

none at all

as soon as he grasps the situation his eyes narrow and for a second.

he lunges forward and pins both your arms beside your head and hovers above you.

it was kinda exciting

bed hair, cocky smirk, hooded eyelids… he watches you squirm underneath him with amusement in those eyes

“mister ong you’ll wake the kids”

“i don’t care”

he leans closer and closer, teasing you with his soft, warm breaths, ghosting his lips against yours.

you whine, and his eyes go soft

like , softer than melted chocolate.

(wow that was cringey wow ew lsndbdk)

he can’t hold back anymore so he kisses you softly, tenderly. lips moving slowly against yours, in no hurry, no urgency.. as if you two had all the time in the world.

which you kinda don’t, because you had to wake the children to get ready in half an hours’ time.

it was kinda hard to find have the privacy and intimacy for just the two of you, with the kiddies running around and constantly screaming for attention

not that seongwoo minded all that much..

he was shy with kids but he loved them

so much.

you could see the cutest sparkle in his eyes as he played with them

kinda reminded you of that one night a few weeks before your wedding, you two were sitting in your living room, next to the fireplace, looking through your baby photos.

you were hiding your embarrassed blush against his shoulder as he flipped through the photo album with the happiest smile you’ve seen on him.

like, he looked like he owned the world in that very moment.

he did though. for him, having you beside him, was his world. his definition of perfect.

he could never say “i love you"s without giggling at the cheesiness

so he put his love for you into actions rather than words.

sometimes you’d come back from work and he would be working hard in the kitchen trying to make kimbap for you.

he knew you loved kimbap so he wanted to spoil you with his own cooking

but inside he was panicking .. he had been panicking all afternoon.

he called his mother seven times already

and double checked with your mother five more times

he just wanted to make it perfect for you.

anyway..

he’s still snogging the heck out of you.

you let out the quietest moan into his mouth and you feel him getting excited, and his hands are suddenly sliding where they weren’t supposed to go. you could feel your silky pyjama top slowly slipping off you but then,

BAM

you fling your husband to the other side of bed.

he’s laughing hysterically, covering the blush on his face with his hands

you tug your clothes back in shape and you sit up instantly

it’s one of the twins

they’re hungry

you ignore seongwoo’s embarassed giggles as he buries himself under the sheets, and tells your son to wait for a bit

“mommy, what’s wrong with daddy?”

“don’t mind him, aegi. he’s just having a good dream.”

“what’s he dreaming about?”

“hOW MUCH I LOOVEE YOUR MOMMY, AND HOW MUCH I LOVE THE WAY SHE M-”

you throw a pillow at him to shut him up.

he doesn’t.

he peeks at you from under the sheets with wide, innocent eyes, and you had to bite your lips to suppress a grin

the child whines a little but leaves

or he know you’d be scolding him again

mum was always too strict

but dad was crazy (about you) so what’s worse tbh

the child was a smart one

he’s only a year old

but he sees things…

he knows things…

MOVING ON… !!

as soon as the door closes you’re pulled under the sheets.

you’re trapped underneath your giggling husband

like for goodness sake.. you feel like as if you’re raising four children.

which you technically were

his laughs were always contagious so you end up giggling too. it was kinda hard to keep as straight face as seongwoo felt you up

god, it made you feel alive.

you thought you’d be used to his tricks and spells but bOI.

he never fails to surprise you,

and yet he’s only barely touching you.

#ong seongwoo #wanna one seongwoo #seongwoo scenarios #seongwoo #ong seongwoo scenarios #wanna one scenarios #wow this got long #produce 101 seongwoo #wanna one #produce 101 #wannaone #wannaone imagines #wannaone scenarios #wannaone seongwoo #wannaone ong seongwoo #ong seongwoo imagines #produce101 imagines #produce101 scenarios

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ashleightayla-blog1 · 7 years

Text

Q&A..

This is going to be quite a long post, so if you’re not particularly interested in me i would disappear now! Thanks to anyone who sent in questions, I was extremely bored and wanted to answer the ones I had but if I get anymore I’ll just add them in at the bottom later. Without further to do, here are my answers! 1) Out of the seven dwarfs which one would you be? Definitely Sleepy. I don’t even remember the other ones and I don’t think I need to. Definitely Sleepy. Or Hungry (if there’s one called Hungry). 2) How many children do you want? I’m very torn about children.. I’m not entirely sure I even want to have children. But, I think I might regret it if I didn’t. But i’m not sure, there’s lots of different circumstances that it would depend on. But if I were to have children, I think 2, maybe 3. Not too many! 3) Who was the last person you texted/ received a text from? Let me check.. the last person I texted was my dad, and the last person I received a text from was my doctors office. Haha, very saucy! 4) Where is your happy place? My happy place is my bed in my clean room, with my pooch, and a true crime documentary. 5) When was your first kiss? Erm, my first proper kiss was when I was about 14 I think, year 8. However I did have a first ‘peck on the lips’ kiss in year 7! What a treasured memory.. hahaha. 6) What is your favourite season and why? Autumn! I love cosiness. Autumn is definitely cosy, not as cosy as winter but I like autumn better as not EVERY day is freezing and rainy, but it’s cold enough to be sweater weather, and enjoy a hot drink on the couch with a blanket, but its not too cold to leave the house. 7) If you were to write a book, what would it be about? I think if I ever wrote a book, it’d be like, a true crime novel. 8) If you could be on any television show, what would it be and why? This question physically hurts me because I CANNOT have one answer. So I will give you a few. I LOVE scream, and I would love to be on scream, but I love all the characters on the show so much that I wouldn’t want to take their spots. And if I wasn’t an important main character then I would definitely die. But to be killed on that show would still be a privilege. Also, Law & Order SVU because literally everyone has been on that show. Also, Prison Break because what an AMAZING cast to work with! 9) What is your favourite movie? This question also hurt me. How DARE you make me choose. I’m not going to choose. I’m just going to say the entire Shrek franchise. 10) Do you sleep with your closet doors open or closed? Closed, because I sleep better with a clean room and my room seems a lot cleaner when I shut my cupboard doors! 11) Do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? Yes, and lotions, and toothpaste, and soap, and whatever is available for me to take (without it being considered theft of course). 12) Do you sleep with your sheets tucked in or out? In, but I used to have a sheet that wasn’t fitted so it would ALWAYS come untucked and I hated it but I dealt with it because I was too lazy to fix it. :) 13) Have you ever stolen a street sign? No, but I have considered it! 14) Do you cut out coupons and then never use them? Nope. I’m the worst at that type of stuff. I always loose coupons/discounts cards, I don’t even attempt to take care of them anymore, I just throw them away. 15) Do you have a boyfriend? You're very pretty. If you do he is one lucky man. Also your dog is super cute. Haha yes I do! Thank you, my pooch is THE cutest (and my boyfriend is also pretty cute). 16) Would you rather be attacked by a big bear or a swarm of bees? Oh feck. That’s actually quite hard. I’m going to say a swarm of bees because I could just curl up into a ball and let them swarm me, but a bear would be VICIOUS. 17) Do you always smile for pictures? Yeah because I have a double-chin-resting-face. Lol. 18) Do you ever count your steps when you walk? No, I feel like that’d make it feel too hard! 19) Have you ever peed in the woods? You know, I’m sure I have. I don’t remember a specific time, but I used to have a forest over the road from my house that we’d play in all day every day and the trek back to the house to use the toilet was just too far, so I know I’ve peed in that forest. 20) Do you still watch cartoons? Errmmm, I actually pretended to think about this but simply, yes. Yes i do. 21) Where would you bury hidden treasure if you had some? I’m not sure! I think in my dad’s backyard. Because I know that that house will always stay in the family and I’d always have access. 22) What do you drink with dinner? Water! 23) What do you dip a chicken nugget in? Tomato sauce, BUT if I’m eating at McDonalds I have to have sweet and sour sauce! 24) What movies could you watch over and over and still love? There’s a lot- I watch things I love over and over again. But the first ones coming to mind are the Shrek movies and the Scream movies. 25) Were you ever a girl scout? Nooooo. 26) Would you ever strip or pose nude in a magazine? Probably not. Not at this stage, anyway. Maybe if one day I had an extremely hot body but currently, no. Haha. 27) Can you change the oil on your car? I mean I’m sure I could, but, I currently don’t know where the oil-holder (lol) is so I’ll have to say no. 28) Have you ever gotten a speeding ticket? Nope. One of my proudest achievements. 29) Afraid of heights? Not like a phobia, but sometimes I get a bit nervous in certain situations! 30) Do you sing in the car? YES. 31) Is Christmas stressful? Yes! Finding presents for people is extremely stressful and I often feel like I haven’t got them presents that are WORTHY enough! But, when I do feel like I’ve got them good presents, I’m so so so excited to give it to them. 32) Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid. Coroner, butcher, detective! 33) Do you believe in ghosts? Yep. 34) The first concert you ever went to. I don’t remember... I think, One Direction? Or Taylor Swift? 35) Any phobias? I HATE spiders. And I think i’d pass out if I came across a snake. And I can get quite claustrophobic. 36) Walmart, Target, or Kmart? Kmart!! Kmart! Kmart!!! KMART! 37) Nike or Adidas? Ermm.. Adidas. 38) Can you curl your tongue? No :( 39) Have you ever cried because you were so happy? Yes. One time in particular comes to mind- I’d been on a very painful injection for a long time (I was well used to injections but the medication inside this one really burnt and was quite nasty..) and every week when I had to have it I would get stressed, sometimes cry etc. and my sister was always mean to me about being a wuss. Well, one time we went to the doctors and he told me to stop taking the needle because he was going to put me on something else to try, and as my sister was flaring up a bit at that time he said to give her the last few of those nasty needles, and I was sooooo happy, I laughed to the point of tears in front of my doctor (I think he thinks i’m quite evil now...) 40) The last concert you saw? I also don’t remember.. I think Fiddler On the Roof Live (it was so good!) 41) Can you swim well? I can doggy paddle? 42) Are you a dog person or a cat person? DOG!

#thoughts

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