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#idk I’m just so excited to paint my own room

littlerosetrove · 21 days

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I think the show is going to start doing better by Eddie in upcoming episodes, and I desperately hope I’m right. Some critical thoughts incoming because I just want better for Eddie.

My focus of this post is about Eddie being in a romantic relationship, although there are absolutely so many potential storylines to delve deeper into with Eddie. Trust me, I know.

I do get why Eddie was with Ana, I do. That man was still repressing so much trauma for starters, and (even now) Eddie was also feeling pressured by society and his upbringing to “give Chris another mom.” It was something Eddie felt like he should do. And hooboy does Eddie still need to work on issues surrounding things he often feels like he “should” do. We all know that Eddie stuck it out with Ana far longer than he should have (Ana is guilty of this two, cause it takes two to tango). An apt description for Eddie is that he’s “the architect of his own misery.” ← Idk who originally said this phrase, but I got it from @yramesoruniverse, and it’s true.

Speaking of misery. No matter how the show tried to paint it as something cute and good, there is nothing actually good about Marisol and Eddie. Let me explain and bear with me.

Let’s be real. The show during 6B treated Eddie’s loneliness and his subsequent desire to date as a joke. Maybe not 100%, but even 1% is too much. That montage of Eddie going hiking, playing golf (??), and hanging out at a fucking country club (?????) to find a date? That was played for laughs.

Now at one point, Eddie had a genuinely great heart to heart with Bobby. I can’t recall their conversation exactly right now since I haven’t rewatched season 6 since it aired, but I know Bobby basically said Eddie should find someone who will sit with him during the hard times (please correct me if I’m wrong).

But then the show tried to frame Eddie running into Marisol - someone he met on a call - as this spark, this magical moment. Let’s remember that in season 6 Eddie was wistfully reminiscing on his and Shannon’s beginning and called it magic. And so again, the show tried to say, “Hey look! Eddie bumping into Marisol (no last name) is meant to be. This is magic!” Then we jump into season 7 where we’ve gotten no development on Marisol still, and zero development on their relationship, unless you want to call Eddie admitting to using Marisol as a babysitter as some development. Hell, we don’t even know how Chris feels about her. With all of this in mind, to me this just looks like Eddie had grabbed onto the first person he could so he wouldn’t be lonely. If the show wanted us to care an iota about Marisol or their relationship in any capacity, they would have. But they haven’t. And that’s just heartbreaking for Eddie. All they’ve given Eddie is a surface level, nothing of a relationship.

It’s clear Eddie and Marisol are going to break up in 7x7 at the latest, and… for what? 7x5 will definitely have to do some backfilling on where and why their relationship isn’t going to work (it doesn't appear Marisol will be in 7x6). Even still, what was the point of it all?? Before anyone says it, yes Eddie is allowed to date, even casually, but GD there’s been nothing to grasp onto, you know? No reason to feel even remotely excited or happy that Eddie’s dating, specifically not with Marisol (and the actress is a shitty person) who ffs doesn’t even have a last name. Just having two attractive people in the same room does nothing for me, sorry.

To try and conclude this, this *gestures at everything I just said* is why I want better for Eddie and Ryan. I really really hope we’re going to get something of substance for Eddie as a character. Yes it’s been great to see Eddie so much happier in season 7 (thanks to therapy, though he needs more, and Buck and Tommy lbr), but, and to stick with the relationship aspect of it all, I want better for Eddie. Idk if Eddie will have or needs someone like Tommy for himself, or if Eddie is just going to work on himself before the next relationship he’s in will be Buck. We’ll have to wait and see, but yeah…. Eddie just. deserves better.

(this post was inspired by a recent conversation I had with @elvensorceress)

#911 spoilers #9-1-1 #911 meta #Eddie Diaz #my thoughts #gosh I hope this all made sense #I read over it a few times but yeah...

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chaikachi · 1 year

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Do you think part of the reason why Ruby was so upset at Blake and Yang in particular isn’t because she’s genuinely mad they got together (or homophobic as I’ve seen some people joke) but because she’s /jealous/ that they were able to take enough time for themselves to even think about their own personal relationship, when meanwhile Ruby has been fighting for her life since the end of volume 3? Like maybe Ruby would love to stop and talk to her friends and sister about her potential love interests (as a girl her age should get the chance to) but she doesn’t have /time/, and seeing Yang and Blake kiss just made her realize what she’s been denying herself in order to be the Heroic Leader. idk I’m in my rosegarden feels and I bet watching Yang and Blake be so close just makes her feel more alone than ever.

LMAO I'VE SEEN THE HOMOPHOBIC JOKES 🤣🤣 how anyone actually believes that allegation is very funny. But yeah I agree. Since the very beginning of the show, Ruby has just wanted to be a normal girl with normal knees who can "paint her nails, try on clothes, and talk about cute boys" with her friends (Note: Oscar has been called cute twice already in show). And Ruby has not had the chance to do so at all because she hasn't stopped moving. Even leading up to v9, everyone else had other things they were focusing on and she's just been trying to hold everybody up. Never taking time for herself to sort out her own struggles. So she's feeling alone and left behind. I went over it a bit in the Treasure Analysis about the framing at the end of v9e6 where the Bees are warm and cozy by the fire, Weiss is warm with her cup of tea, and Ruby is sitting cold by herself by the window across from an empty chair. All alone in crowded rooms without the one person that makes her not feel that way.

The volume starting with Oscar as the very first illusion that Neo uses - and RG being the only pair that was split up in v8 that didn't end up reunited in v9 - sets up his absence very strongly right out the gate. And that absence just seems to grow with each episode.

As much as I do love RG, I don't know that Ruby necessarily knows she likes Oscar or has reached that point. At least not yet, but distance makes the heart grow fonder (as we have seen with Renora and the Bees) and I have a feeling we're not ready for how close they're going to end up when everyone is back in Vacuo.

Part of her upset here in the Ever After, is that she is crushed under the weight of so many things that she doesn't even have time to entertain such an idea as a crush. In any other circumstance, Ruby would have been elated about so much of what they're experiencing. She would have been excited for the bees just like she had been in v6 and she would have been all over this fairytale nonsense in the Ever After.

But she's tired. Weiss is snapping at her every other hour, Jaune is a broken husk of himself and needs their help more than he can offer it in return, and the Bees got to spend time sorting out their feelings and find comfort and support in each other... while Ruby is just dealing with all of this on her own.

She doesn't feel seen. She doesn't feel wanted. She doesn't feel prioritized. The only person that ever asked 'what about Ruby' is in another dimension and the only one in Ever After that noticed before she broke was Little (who has VERY STRONG PARALLELS to Oscar as I just brought up in a recent ask).

This volume is very rough emotionally on our characters, but I'm really optimistic for Vacuo being an arc of resting, rebuilding, and recovering for all of them. But especially for Ruby. Because there ain't no way all of what was brought up this last episode can be resolved in the 3 we have left until the season is over. But at least Oscar is waiting for her with open arms once she gets there. 🌲💕

#sorry for rambling again!!!#there are fictional characters in my head #asks #ask #clashingharmony #chainalysis #rwby #rosegarden

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teddybeartoji · 3 months

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MICKEY i am jumping out of the blanket fort excitedly <333 this is so long overdue bc ive been too excited to sit down and think abt the Vamps properly BUT it’s finally time.. this is just going of ur most recent rb abt them btw which was . a While ago IVE BEEN THINKING OF IT CONSTANTLY THOUGH BUT ;;;;; STSG…. THE STSG DYNAMIC….

mickey i’m convinced that u are secretly plotting my downfall there’s no other explanation. VAMP!SUGU FLIRTING W JOURNALIST!GOJO ……..…. i DIED i exploded they make me feel so ill. I’VE PROBABLY DEFINITELY SAID THIS BUT EVERY TIME U GIVE ME ANOTHER PIECE OF VAMP LORE I FALL FURTHER INTO THE PIT just . sugu feeling more comfortable in the dynamic & getting more confident… JOURNALIST!GOJO BEING FLUSTEREDPEKSJ HELP MEEEEEE vamp!reader would find that so funny wouldn’t they. so sweet. now i’m just imagining the vamps teaming up to fluster gojo 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 me next

(he doesn't want u to be jealous he's more asking for reassurance - is it okay if the two of them mess around together too? and of course it is bc you want your boys to be happy)

dont even get me started on this ^^^^ im sending u my hospital bill watch out . MICKEY :(( im so obsessed w vamp!reader it isn’t even funny i need them so bad it’s sickening. they KNOW they call the shots and sugu knows it too and the way they’re kind of just. indulging their beloveds…… they’re sooo <33333 yeah.

i just wanted to let u know i am in fact thinking abt these three constantly i am kissing ur brain always. pls give mr armin a lil kiss from me too !! <33

HI ARI BABY!!!

it's so good to see you here (i might keep you forever)(/hj).

what do you think of playground love by air (btw doesn't the cover for this song look like sugu lmao i just noticed that) for this stsg? it might not be something you immediately thought of, right? but i feel like it suits the sugu teaching satoru how to paint?? do you see the vision?? or did you imagine something else?? i need to know. i think this moment would be such an important one in their relationship such a pivotal moment

i can totally see suguru talking about the colors and anatomy and how to hold the brush and then little journalist!gojo is just staring at him with stars in his eyes trying to concentrate because he really does want to learn but fuck it's so hard with this angel before him...

and i think the song name is also funny in a sense that satoru is like a teenager bc how easily he pops his boners lmao okay he just gets so fucking excited in his head it's literally not even sexual????? like sugu is just sooooo handsome under the moonlight it's making his head spin and oh! oops!

another thing i thought about is the fact that they definitely have a cat!!! idk if i said this already somewhere but they do!!! not a black one bc that's a little basic but maybe like a siamese one? meow very cute. anyway i think satoru desperately want to have the cat's attention but it loves sugu the most lmao and he's soooooo smug about that too!!! satoru is all pspspspsps bribing the kitty with the treats but it literally ignores him?????? and just gets comfy on sugu's lap without a second thought. imagine the pouty little satoru here:((( btw the reader is also jealous of sugu in this case but they refuse to show it. bc c'mon they're the leader of the house they can't be upset over their own cat liking their beloved more. no way. never. that's so childish. :(.

oh and and and!! the vamp!reader really does like satoru and they know that he's the perfect guy to help bring suguru out of his shell even more yk they know that a little curious puppy like him is only gonna do good in their household (after they reassure sugu ofc)

wait actually i can't remember whether i said that satoru just kind of moved in too right??? like he rarely goes to his city apartment and he just has his own room (as if he fucking sleeps there smh) and he absolutely loves lliving in the mansion he doesn't even hide it. i do need to say that he also adores having maids and a butler but he's still incredibly respectful towards them yk like he isn't pointlessly bossing them around

he also loves to blast stupid fucking music over the whole house.... canon i'm afraid. idk why but justin timberlake just popped into my head lmao like his music in the 10's wheww bangers though i won't lie

OHHH WAITT I JUST THOUGHT ABOUT SHOKO AND SATORU bc like they don't know each other yet!!!!! so imagine shoko comes over for their usual wine night and then finds this blue eyed guy lazing on the couch without a shirt on????? like who are you???? but then she recognizes him hehehe i think journalist!gojo is a rather known one he's good at his job so she just rolls her eyes but after an hour or two i think they actually get along surprisingly well!! (okay i mean it's not a surprise for us but for the reader and sugu) they kind of share the same stupid af humor and it all just gets super fucking funny when they're all playing board games together lmao (shoko always wins btw)(always.)

also heheheh armin came to sit with me just as i started writing this!!! he has received his kiss!! he meowed back!! he loves you!! i know bc i know his language so just trust me!!

ANYWAYY THIS IS THEMM!! i love talking about them it comes so easily the words really write themselves really (i can't wait to actually you know.. write something real for them lmao)(SOON I PROMISE SOON)

thank you for coming by i hope you never leave!!! mwah mwah mwah!! love you lots and lots and lots!!

#ahhhh #my beloveds all together #sighh #i'm so full of love #danger warning #i'm about to explode #ari my sweetest angel #i hope you're doing so fucking good today!!!#ari <3 #mickey can't stop thinking #friends!!

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numinous-queer · 1 year

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on being Seen

I had a quasi spiritual experience going to the hospital* with my foster daughter yesterday and getting clocked as a trans dad by a young teen waiting for his name to get called. The pediatric ER waiting room is not a great place for anyone at any time, but I felt the pull of Something when this kid, clearly in pain, still made his pink stuffed dinosaur wave at Sola when she got all excited because she had brought HER pink T-Rex for comfort. I told him his painted boots with the trans flag on them were the coolest things I’d ever seen, and he grinned so wide and just said “I know!!!” when I said I was trans too. And like... I want to see and be seen by other trans people so bad. I want to be visible to young people, so they can see me with new gray hair on my temples, my wedding ring on my finger, and my daughter pulling my hand. I’m still here, and the world is a very scary place right now but by GOD I made it out alive. This kid seemed SO HAPPY to see me with my family, and I’m going to be thinking about that all day. He was on his own in the waiting room, and I hope that while we existed there together, he felt a little bit closer to the world like I did.

This is the Trans Teen Website, so if there’s any young trans guys named Ben out there with blue hair, cool bumper stickers on your wheelchair, and a great pink dinosaur who just got out of Doernbecher in Portland, OR, know you had a HUGE impact on our family. Kiddo loved meeting you, and it was a really hard day for her. Bless you, and bless your loved ones.

*She’s very okay don’t worry!!!! It’s just a stomach bug and she’s saying “tummy feels better” and happily watching cartoons now that she’s had a popsicle and a night’s sleep! The ER visit wasn’t necessary, but we are in such a weird shitty position as foster parents that we couldn’t refuse medical advice after the first doctor we went to referred us out after Sola wasn’t playing ball with strangers touching her painful belly. So after they gave up and said “idk you can go to the ER I guess” we couldn’t go home without risking being accused of withholding care for her. I couldn’t have designed a worse child welfare system if I tried.

#trans #the kid

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rmd-writes · 9 months

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Thanks for tagging me @hippolotamus @lilythesilly @welcometololaland this has been sitting in my drafts for I don't know how long now, but I'm overwhelmed by my work to do list so of course I'm procrastinating now 🙃

Bold all that apply (with some notes because Lola did and why not):

APPEARANCE: i’m under 5’5” // i wear glasses/contacts // i have blonde hair // i prefer loose clothing to tight clothing // i have one or more piercings // i have at least one tattoo // i have blue eyes // i have dyed or highlighted my hair // i have gotten plastic surgery // i have or had braces // i sunburn easily // i have freckles // i paint my nails // i typically wear make-up // i don’t often smile // i am pleased with how i look // i prefer nike to adidas // i wear baseball hats backwards

(Notes: I am quite often the shortest adult in the room. I've been wearing glasses since I was 16 but likely needed them much earlier. I used to wear contacts almost all of the time, but I prefer glasses these days and own 6 pairs, plus sunglasses. I like the way I look at the moment because I'm the fucking strongest I've ever been and have actual muscles now 💪🏽. The Nike preference is really just for Lola, I don't have a strong preference, but do tend to purchase Nike shoes for sneakers)

HOBBIES AND TALENTS: i play a sport // i can play an instrument // i am artistic // i know more than one language // i have won a trophy in some sort of competition // i can cook or bake without a recipe // i know how to swim // i enjoy writing // i can do origami // i prefer movies to tv shows // i can execute a perfect somersault // i enjoy singing // i could survive in the wild on my own // i have read a new book series this year // i enjoy spending time with friends // i travel during school or work breaks (if i can afford it) // i can do a handstand

(Notes: idk if my aerial stuff counts as a sport? I am very much not a sporty person. I've been surprised to see how many of these I've seen go around where people can't swim - it's so unusual for people where I live not to be able to swim, it's part of the school curriculum. I used to be able to do a handstand - pre-kids and destroying my core strength via two pregnancies. I have my core strength back yet but haven't attempted a handstand again)

RELATIONSHIP: i am in a relationship // i have been single for over a year // i have a crush // i have a best friends i have known for (more than) ten years // my parents are together // i have dated my best friend // i am adopted // my crush has confessed to me // i have a long distance relationship // i am an only child // i give advice to my friends // i have made an online friend // i met up with someone i have met online

(Notes: fun fact, the crush who confessed to me is now my husband. I have made many, many online friends and met a bunch of them (the best friends I've known for more than 10 years were originally online friends). and in 47 days I get to meet more online friends and I couldn't be MORE EXCITED)

AESTHETICS: i have heard the ocean in a conch shell // i have watched the sun rise // i enjoy rainy days // i have slept under the stars // i meditate outside // the sound of chirping calms me // i enjoy the smell of the beach // i know what snow tastes like // i listen to music to fall asleep // i enjoy thunderstorms // i enjoy cloud watching // i have attended a bonfire // i pay close attention to colours // i find mystery in the ocean // i enjoy hiking on nature paths // autumn is my favourite season 🍂

(Notes: in theory I enjoy rainy days and thunderstorms but I DO NOT LIKE the humidity that accompanies them here)

MISCELLANEOUS: i can fall asleep in a moving vehicle // i am the mom friend// i live by a certain quote // i like the smell of sharpies // i am involved in extracurricular activities //i enjoy mexican food // i can drive a stick-shift // i believe in true love // i make up scenarios to fall asleep // i sing in the shower // i wish i lived in a video game // i have a canopy above my bed // i am multiracial // i am a redhead // i own at least three dogs

(Notes: I am quite literally the mum friend. But also: see me sending my friends to bed when they're online too late and reminding them to drink water. I wasn't allowed to get an automatic licence - my dad said he'd only teach me to drive and help pay for my first car if I learned to drive a manual car)

I don't know who's already done this game, it's been going around for a while but let's try: @basilsunrise @heartstringsduet @heartitinthesilence @rosedavid @mostlyinthemorning @stereopticons @kiwiana-writes @pragmatic-optimist @sunshinestrand @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @freneticfloetry @fitzherbertssmolder @lemonlyman-dotcom

#tag games #about me

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theold-ultraviolence · 2 years

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Sooo are we headcanoning (Is that a word?) that eddie loves art?? Does that mean art museum dates??

EM, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SENDING THIS! I had been struggling all day to write a fic to cope but I was too sad and this brightened my mood immensely. This is a scenario didn't know I needed in my life but NOW I can't stop thinking about it. And as an artist myself, you bet I got a little too excited, I had way too much fun putting this together. Prepare for a long ass post with references and everything!

ARTWORK HE LIKES

His favorite artistic discipline would be painting and printing (he likes the graphic look of woodcuts and silk screen prints).

It’s canon that he has a print of ‘The Scream’ by Edvard Munch in his room from that scene in ep 8 where he goes 'THIS IS MUSIC!' , So definitely he might be his favorite and it makes so much sense because his artwork is super dark but also whimsical in a way. Edvard Munch's work is also inspired by his own depression and anxiety so I feel like Eddie finds reassurance in representing/expressing your feelings through art, be it visual art os music (in his case).

I feel like his favorite artistic movement may be the German Expressionism from the early 20th Century. He relates to them because the artists of that movement were basically prosecuted for representing society in the inter-war period so crudely, so he admires that. His favorite collective is Die Brücke.

But I definitely see him as a fan of Surrealism as well because of how many rock album artwork is based on that, primarily Pink Floyd’s albums.

He’d be a MEGA FAN of Mexican artist Remedios Varo because of her mystical paintings; her work is heavily based in tarot and magic. Bonus point that he thinks it's very metal for a woman to paint in a male dominated scene.

He also likes these two paintings by Francisco Goya. The one of the right is titled 'Witches' Sabbath' so... it's a no brainer why he digs it lol!

And likes Francis Bacon too because he says his artork is 'so metal'

Now, that boy has spent most of his life listening to records while starring transfixed at the album covers, and Eddie would definitely be the kind of hardcore fan that knows all the little details about the production, down to the artist that designed the cover. So he’s a fan of the company Hipgnosis – who’ve designed the covers of a number of bands! Mainly Pink Floyd. Although their work leans more towards photography.

Not by Hipgnosis, but his favorite Sabbath covers are these:

Also I feel like Eddie definitely likes to draw, is the kind of guy that has doodles all over his notebook but he also has super detailed portraits and designs for his D&D characters and the potential artwork for Corroded Coffin’s logo and future album covers and I bet he designs their merch too.

MUSEUM DATES

I really don’t think there are art museums or galleries in Hawkins, so if you were going to a museum date I think they’d be out of town.

But as much as he loves art, I don’t think you’d go on a road trip specifically to go to a museum; I headcanon that his income comes from his drug deals but also working shifts at Thatcher Tire, mostly during the weekend, so you don’t have the necessary free time or means to take road trips frequently.

BUT, if there’s a concert in a nearby city that you guys really want to see, you make the trip worth it and make it a whole weekend affair.

You ditch school that Friday and hop on his van really early in the morning, all packed for the weekend, stocked up on snacks and with a fresh film roll on your camera, arriving just in time for the big show late at night.

I’m not from the U.S. so idk what else is near fictional Hawkins but from looking at the Indiana Map (and what I recall from my experience looking up band tour dates lol) I feel like the places you’d drive to for a concert would be either Chicago or Indianapolis.

Saturday is when you go sight-seeing around the city and the first stop is always the art museum!

You’d go to The Art Institute of Chicago or The Indianapolis Museum of Art

HAND IN HAND THE ENTIRE TIME

Obviously he’s excited to see the collections but is also excited to see whatever contemporary show they’ve curated each time.

Loves taking notes about the contemporary artists he sees (in his mind he’s building up a list of references for when Corroded Coffin is famous and they need a pro to design their album covers, because while he is good and has good ideas for them, he dreams of collaborating with a professional artist and supporting them as well!)

We know is a jittery ball and can’t ever be still for a minute so he’s the kind of guy to admire the works kinda quickly – he scans them over and if an artwork doesn’t capture him he moves on to the next in a flash.

But the ones that do catch his attention have him all transfixed – if he has to sit down to admire them he will, and he’ll comment on each little detail that makes it interesting.

But what he loves the most is making fun of the work! Not in a mean way at all, but he just loves to make it a fun experience. Despises the kind of bougie, condescending douches that like to feel all intellectual and superior when talking about a work a pompous manner

'Nah man, art is fun' art is meant for you to enjoy it, so you make fun of all portraits and does the voices of each character in a painting

“She looks like she needs to loosen up that corset,” “that one looks like my lunch after that one night I got drunk by myself and threw up on Wayne’s couch,”

He also points to the abstract or goofy looking characters in the paintings and goes, “that’s you”, “that’s me”, “that’s how we look like after when we get shitfaced together”

You’re laughing so hard that the guards are constantly shushing you all throughout and you get mean stares from the people, but you couldn’t care less

He definitely keeps the brochures of the exhibitions

And he’s super knowledgeable about art techniques in general, he goes, “oh these are acrylics,” , “this is from Picasso’s blue period”, “this was shot with kodachrome print,” etc etc etc. But he’s not condescending about it in the least and you’re always amazed by how intelligent and knowledgeable Eddie is, no matter how badly he does in school. He’s an actual walking Encyclopedia but everyone underestimates him.

ALSO PDA TO THE MAX. He constantly has an arm around you, hand inside your jean pocket, kissing in between each artwork that you see, and just random kisses on your temple/head as you walk by each gallery.

Loves photo-ops and is extremely excited when there’s an interactive exhibit!

If the menu isn’t expensive, you grab lunch in the museum’s cafeteria where you further discuss everything you saw. He loves hearing your opinion about the artwork and is specially keen on knowing what was your favorite

Because he gets it in a postcard at the Museum’s souvenir shop. He always gets you either a postcard or a tote bag.

You get him a poster for his room, pins, or a mug (to add to his and Wayne’s neverending mug collection that lines up the walls of their trailer).

And last but not least, you take pictures of each other all throughout! You get someone to take a picture of the both of you in front of a painting, or you take pictures of each other admiring the artworks, as well as pictures outside the museum gates.

On sunday you return to Hawkins, but now you have all so much to talk about on your way back, from the concert to the things you learned about in the museum <3

#eddie munson #headcanons #my writing #stranger things #prompt fill #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you

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ashleygetsblacked · 2 years

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Hi Ashley, in response and regards to your last answer (much appreciated btw), would you say a perfect dream world would have you two meeting an interracial couple (black man, white wife whos "bi curious/skeptical") and you two delving into that world? Would love that picture painted...

I think I should back up here a little bit and explain. I’m a bisexual woman and I am attracted to both men and women. I’m in a committed relationship (no cheating) with a lesbian woman, who isn’t attracted to men at all. Before my first experience with a black man a couple weeks ago, I had been 14 months without even seeing a naked man and was very ok with that, because I’m in love with my gf and we’re quite happy sexually. Both of us are pretty conservative outside of our fantasy worlds, so it was surprising to me that she was ok with meeting a couple to experiment with our new fantasies. She doesn’t want to be involved with the guy at all, which complicates things when we’re looking for couples. We don’t really want the couple, we want to be paired off with someone who’s ok with the concept. Tbh now that I’m over the first initial rush of excitement over getting fucked by a black guy, the idea of these meetups are pretty scary for me. The being with strangers aspect is fine. It’s the unknowns with the relationship with my gf that scare me, and I really don’t want to lose her over this experiment. My biggest fear is that my gf will try to hook up with a bi-curious woman who doesn’t like being with a woman after all. I don’t know how my gf would react to that rejection or failure when she’s built up these fantasies in her head. I’m also afraid that if I see her with another woman or if she see’s me with a man that we somehow won’t be able to handle it. The idea of it is ok logically and we were ok with each other in the other room, but will we be overly jealous or somehow hurt when it’s in the same room? Idk, I think I’m just getting into my own head here and overthinking, but those are the things that scare me. I doubt that’s the picture you had in mind when you asked your question lol. The interracial couple aspect isn’t a must. The girl being bi-curious is more important for us atm. My gf is half white, half Costa Rican. She’s typically dated white or Hispanic women all her life, but she was with one black woman previously. She’s completely indifferent to race. So I guess the ideal for us (this month) is bi-curious woman (marital status irrelevant) and black man (other races allowed in a pinch). We’re rolling with it, but it’s far from a dream atm. I’m hoping the fun of getting fucked by big black men outweighs the anxiety I’m having about our relationship surviving as the experiment moves forward. 07.27.2022

#ashley answers

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jentlemahae · 10 days

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Here comes Taylor's second fandom cherry picking lyrics and posting them with captions such as "Is the greatest songwriter of our generation in the room with us right now?" and "this is y'all tortured poet?". Meanwhile the lyrics are like "beer sticking to the floor" and "all my friends smell like weed or little babies". And I'm so confused (but not really) because these aren't bad lyrics at all. Taylor is crafting narratives and mentioning the floors sticky with beers helps set the scene. The weed/babies lyric shows the stage in life that the protagonist finds themselves in, caught between reckless youth and settled maturity.

One of these tweets in particular is so pathetic. It's screenshots from a conversation between some haters and one of them writes "YOU ARE NOT READY FOR THIS. READY?" and sends a screenshot of a lyric. I have to imagine them watching every one of Taylor's moves, excitement sparkling in their chests when a new album is released, making plans to listen to it and comment on it. Because it's fun for them, Taylor provides them with something they love. They are her second fandom for real. This is so funny. You ever listen to 31 songs of an artist who makes what is, in your opinion, terrible music, just to hate on it?

i’m okay with people disliking or criticizing taylor (i think they’re wrong but to each their own) but people questioning and dismissing her songwriting abilities is something i just cannot take! and the criticism doesn’t even make sense most of the time cause if she writes something simple and obviously cheeky it’s “she can’t write” and if she uses elaborate metaphors it’s “she only uses big words and throws them together” 🫥 and then they say her lyrics don’t make sense, which…….honestly i just think some of u are very stupid, bcs her usually her lyrics are either very obvious metaphors or something she uses to paint a scene / move the story forward! i think some people just lack reading comprehension idk

ALSO this album is 31 songs and 2 hours long…… why are u even listening if u hate her, let alone know the words 😭😭 if it’s an artist i actively dislike, i sure as hell am not gonna check in on their album the day it’s out and look up the words FSHSHSH that’s so pathetic

#anonymous #sophie ask

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moonlit-jeno · 3 years

Text

red door, yellow door (m.)

pairing: mark lee x fem reader x jung jaehyun

words: 8.1k

a/n: this is a repost from my old bts blog! pls don’t ask abt it bc i no longer actively follow bts :)

One of these days, you’re going to kill your coworkers.

You love them, you really do, but sometimes they can just be so dumb. It was Donghyuck and Renjun who came up with the idea to play this stupid game, one that is probably only played by naive 12 year old girls during slumber parties.

Normally you’d just brush it off, but Renjun had called you a wimp, so naturally you had to do it. Which is how you’ve ended up on your back with your best friend massaging circles into your forehead.

“Red door, yellow door, any other color door,” is being chanted around the room. You fight the urge to move your neck to a more comfortable position on Mark’s lap. Your hand twitches above your head, where your arms are raised. “This is stupid,” You whisper, and Mark laughs, scolding you lightly.

After a while, the mindless chanting lulls you to sleep, and you feel yourself drift off.

“What do you see?”

Two doors appear in front of you, one red and one yellow. They both look kind of old, paint chipping and peeling off.

“Anything else?”

A black door appears next to the yellow one and you find yourself drawn to it, wanting to go in. This one is shinier, considerable newer and more inviting compared to the other two

“Go in.”

You open the door and walk through, a sense of relief flooding through your senses as you give in to the pull. The room that you find yourself in seems never ending, the only thing in it a large bed.

“Do you see anyone?”

A man appears, sitting on the bed. The suit he’s wearing is unfitting for the plain surroundings- in fact, he’s unfitting for the surroundings in general. His teeth are blinding white when he smiles, not a hair out of place on his entire head. He’s attractive, all golden skin and beautiful features. Almost too beautiful. A shiver crawls up your spine, a tinge of discomfort bleeding into your senses. He smiles, dimples popping out, and you push the discomfort to the back of your mind.

“Who are you?” Your voice comes out distant to your own ears, echoing around you.

“Call me Jaehyun. Why don’t you come here, little bird? We can get properly acquainted.” The voice sounds haunting, like a distorted video. You wouldn’t believe that he’s speaking if his lips didn’t move in sync. Despite the unnatural voice sounding warning bells in your brain, you find yourself moving forward automatically and settling down on his lap when he pats his thigh for emphasis.

“And what’s your name, little bird?” He trails a hand up and down your thigh and you shiver, leaning back against him. He chuckles when you tell him your name, a pleased smile lighting up his features.

“Well, little bird, seems that we’re going to have some fun together.”

Your name is being echoed all around you, and you wake with a jolt, eyes flying open to see Mark staring at you.

“Are you okay?” The rest of your group is also gathered around you, standing in a half circle.

“Yeah, just fell asleep for a bit. Why?” You push yourself onto your elbows, sitting up so that you can lean against Mark.

Donghyuck plops down on the floor, sitting so that he’s facing you. “You were talking like you were having a conversation with someone. Who was it?”

You shrug, trying not to dull his excitement. “I don’t know, just some guy.”

“Was he wearing a suit?” Renjun asks, standing behind Hyuck. He grimaces when you nod. “Y/n, we literally told you not to talk to anyone in a suit. We told you not to talk to anyone. It’s in the rules.”

You roll your eyes, knowing how serious he gets when it comes to stuff like this. “Relax, it’s fine. He seemed nice, and it’s not like it was anything real.”

Renjun still doesn’t look convinced, but Mark interrupts his paranoia by doing what he’s best- or worst, depending on who you ask- at, cracking jokes.

“Hey, was he eating deviled eggs?” He laughs at his own joke, and everyone else groans. “Hey, don’t get mad at me. His place was probably such a hellhole.” The bad mood dissolves into jokes and loud laughter for the rest of the night.

You leave the party- or gathering as Donghyuck had called it because it sounded more mysterious- when it starts storming. The rain drenches you and pretty much everyone else that’s sitting on the porch, leaving you scrambling for shelter. Luckily, Mark offers you a ride.

“Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite!” Mark hollars out the window of his truck, his words getting lost in the night as he speeds off. His truck hits a pothole and you can imagine him swearing as his head hits the roof. Giggling to yourself, you unlock your apartment and slip inside. It’s close to 2 in the morning, so you decide that if you’re already not going to get that much sleep, why not binge Shameless?

You only get through two episodes before your eyelids feel heavy, and you have to fight to keep them open. On screen, there’s a bar fight that you try to take interest in, but sleep quickly pulls you under.

“Welcome back, little bird.” The voice is all around you, but no matter how much you turn and search, no one’s to be found.

“Turn around, little bird, I am here.” Spinning abruptly, you come face to face with the man from earlier, Jaehyun. He gives you a chilling grin.

“So we meet again,” he starts, and his voice no longer sounds eerie or inauthentic. He sounds like, well, a normal man. “Tell me, what would you do if I were to kiss you?”

You swallow, tongue darting out to wet your lips on instinct. “Depends. Are you a good kisser?” You aim for coy, but you miss the mark and land closer to worried.

“You could say that.” He pulls you close with one hand on the back of your head, stopping right before your lips. “May I?”

You nod, and he pulls you in for a gentle, closed mouth kiss.

It’s like that touch ignites a fire in you, because before you know it, your arms are thrown around his neck, dragging him closer to deepen the kiss. You lick along his lower lip and he readily grants you access, a throaty groan leaving him when you suck on his tongue. Liquid heat courses through your veins when he nips at your lower lip, tongue flicking over it in apology. You moan, raw and needy. He likes that, if the chuckle and wicked grin is anything to go by. Picking you up so that your legs are wrapped around his waist, he walks over to a bed that definitely wasn’t there before.

He drops you on the bed, and then suddenly you’re both naked. Jaehyun leans over you, all lean muscles and golden skin. His cock hangs hard and flushed between his legs, and you have the urge to swallow him down. He groans, as if reading your mind, and then reaches to pump himself slowly, long fingers wrapped around the length. “Not now, little bird, not now. I have something else in mind.” With one gentle push to your shoulders, you’re lying flat on the bed, Jaehyun between your legs. His mouth hovers over your core, already wet and dripping despite not having been touched. He plays idly with the slick on your upper thigh, drawing random patterns into the flesh. His eyes are dark, and you could swear that they’re entirely black, no white visible. He peers curiously up at you from between your legs, watching your reaction as his fingers get closer and closer to where you want him. Your breathing picks up as arousal thrums through your body, center pulsing and aching for some sort of relief.

“May I have you?” His breath ghosts over your center when you speak, the sensation making you even needier.

You nod quickly. “Take it, fuck, you have all of me.” He grins, wasting no time in diving in. His tongue feels impossibly good, licking up your folds and circling over your clit. He leaves sloppy kisses along your core, one hand massaging your thigh and keeping you spread open. You cry out when his tongue pushes into you, his nose brushing your clit and sending sparks up your spine.

His tongue feels impossibly long, so good inside of you that you feel like you’re losing your mind. Your hips buck up desperately, riding his face to hell and back. One arm gets thrown over your stomach to keep you in place while two fingers from his free hand dip into your soaking core, curling into that spot immediately. Stars flash behind your eyes, one hand coming down to fist in Jaehyun’s hair. Your feet scramble frantically along his back, heels digging in in an effort to anchor yourself, toes curling at the sensations singing through you.

You feel your orgasm drawing closer, heat pooling in your center. You whimper brokenly as you try to chase after your high, grinding your hips along his tongue. He lets you, just holding his tongue flat out for you to ride.

You come like that, falling apart on his tongue, screams of his name falling from your lips. He works you through it, tongue gently licking along your folds, slurping up your arousal as if he hasn’t had a meal in weeks.

You lay there, boneless and whimpering weakly through the aftershocks until Jaehyun pulls away to kiss up your body. He licks into your mouth hotly, reminding you that he hasn’t come yet. You bat weakly at his chest, pushing him onto his back. “Your turn,”

He groans in appreciation at the view of you above him. “So perfect, little bird. I’m gonna have so much fun with your soul.”

This sentence freezes you in your spot. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Jaehyun meets your gaze, black eyes entrancing you. “That means, y/n, that I’m going to have your soul. You belong to me now, hmm?” One of his hands plays gently with a strand of your hair. “That’s what you agreed to earlier, no?”

“N-no.” You try backing away, but the inhuman voice from earlier is back, echoing everywhere, repeating his words over and over until you can’t take it anymore-

You wake with a gasp, hitting your head as you sit up. Your computer is still on your lap, episode fifteen playing. Fuck, you’ve only been asleep for forty five minutes. It’s not even three yet, and you don’t have to go to work until eight. Deciding there’s no way you’re falling back asleep, you get up and decide to bake.

Five hours later, your coworkers love you when you show up with containers of cinnamon rolls, five different types of cookies, and a coffee cake. Mark looks mildly worried.

“You okay? I haven’t seen you bake since high school.” You snap out of your thoughts and turn to face Mark. The look of concern on your best friend’s face is enough to make you feel guilty and you nod, forcing a smile onto your face.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Had a bad dream last night and couldn’t sleep, that’s all.” You respond, trying not to show how bothered you actually are.

“Wanna talk about it?” Mark leans forward over his desk, chin planted on his hand.

“No, it’s gonna sound dumb.” You whine, shaking your head. And it is dumb, even to you. You’re scared because you had a dream that some man ate you out and then told you he was going to take your soul?

“Well, you always sound dumb. Of course your dreams are gonna be dumb.” Mark laughs as you chuck a piece of cake at him, infectious laugh soothing you. You sigh.

Mark raises his eyebrows at you when you finish telling him your dream. “You’re scared because you had a wet dream? Damn, I’d be living in a nightmare if I was scared after every wet dream I’ve had.”

You kick him under the table. “Mark! It was really scary. He told me he was going to take my soul!”

Upon seeing that you’re actually freaked out, his face softens. “Look, y/n, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You probably just thought that he was hot, and your brain remembered his face and put it in a dream. I wouldn’t worry about it; what’s the worst he’s gonna do, haunt you?”

You give a shaky nod, agreeing. It’s not like something from your dreams could actually harm you. Mark reaches across the desk, taking your hand in his and giving a tight squeeze, warm brown eyes gazing at you openly. “And if something does happen, just remember that I’m your best friend. I’ll be here for you.”

“Thanks, Mark. Means a lot to me.”

He leans back in his seat. “Anytime, anyplace, anything. Triple A.”

You smile, raising an eyebrow. “Anything?”

His eyes go wide, taking in the glint in your eyes. “Within reason.”

“How about a sip of coffee?” You nod down at his cup, pasting a huge smile on your face.

“I did say within reason, so no.”

You huff. “I expected that.”

Although you don’t scare easily, it’s safe to say that you’re a bit unsettled tonight, especially after your nightmare last night. You find yourself jumping at every little noise, hand slamming the light switch on with your pulse racing every five minutes. This has been going on for an hour, and after a final sweep of your room reveals nothing, you decide that maybe a face mask will help you relax.

Your bathroom has two mirrors facing each other, which is normally a blessing when you do your hair, but tonight it does nothing but make you want to hide under your blankets.

Get a grip on yourself, you chastise, grabbing your phone and opening spotify. Maybe some music will help? You click on your Christmas playlist because what better way to cheer up than to think about your favorite holiday?

A mistake, really, because it seems that you’ve forgotten how creepy Santa is.

“He sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake,” Yikes. You stop that song in a hurry, feeling anything but comforted. No music then, noted.

You reach for your face wash, turning the sink on and waiting for the water to warm. You can’t help but glance in the mirror behind you every so often, paranoia getting the best of you. Man, you feel pathetic, worrying about monsters in your closet like you’re six and not twenty-six.

You wash your face quickly, hoping that your fears will wash away as well. No such luck.

You swear you see something move behind you after you dry your face off, but there’s nothing there. Shaking it off, you reach for your face mask, taking your time painting your face with the green clay.

It’s after your face is coated that you spot someone in the glass behind you. You scream, whipping around to come face to face with a man. Not just any man- Jaehyun.

Your heart thunders in your chest, eyes widening in fear. He seems to be in the mirror, copying your petrified expression mockingly.

“Hello, little bird.” He purrs, smirking lightly.

“Are you- are you in my mirror?” You’re in disbelief, mind struggling to comprehend this. First you spot him while in a weird trance, then in a dream, and now in your mirror? Maybe you’re having a quarter life crisis.

“No, I am not. Mirrors are just gateways to alternate dimensions. I’m merely using the mirror to visit you.” He says this like it’s common knowledge. It feels like your throat is made of sandpaper with how hard it is to choke out your words. “O-okay. I’m just gonna- yeah.”

You grab your phone from the counter and bolt, fumbling for your keys before jumping into your car and speeding off in the direction of Mark’s house. You call him, fingers fumbling on the screen. He goes to voicemail the first time, and your heart drops. “No, no, no,” you whisper frantically, calling again. He does pick up this time.

“Y/n? It’s the middle of the night.” His voice sounds gruff, and you feel guilty for waking him up. One glance in your rear view mirror reveals that Jaehyun is joining you on this ride, and you scream, car swerving violently to one side before you straighten it out.

“Where are we going, little bird?”

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Mark’s voice has lost its sleepy edge, taking on a concerned tone. He says your name again, more frantic.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Your tires squeal as you make a turn, now only two blocks away. “Can I- can I come over? I really need to be with someone right now.”

“Of course, you know you’re always welcome. The door’s unlocked.”

You hang up, willing the tears in your eyes to not spill over. Finally arriving, you slam on the breaks and haphazardly pull next to a curb, yanking the key out of the ignition and sprinting to Mark’s house.

You lock the door behind you when you step inside, testing the handle as if a door could stop a mirror traveling demon or whatever the fuck Jaehyun was from coming inside. “Mirrors,” you mumble, reaching the stairs.

“Y/n? What’s-” Mark stands at the top of the stairs, one hand rubbing at his eyes. You cut him off, flying up the stairs.

“Mirrors, fuck. Mark, we need to cover the mirrors!” You breeze by his shocked figure, not noticing the way he turns to stare at you incredulously.

“What, why? Y/n, are you crazy?”

Ignoring him, you throw a towel over the mirror in his bathroom, ripping open a pack of bandaids to use as adhesive.

You throw another towel over the mirror in his bedroom, collapsing on his bed when you’re done and finally allowing yourself to sob.

“Y/n, hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” Mark, as gentle and caring as ever, comes over to sit next to you, one hand combing through your hair.

“I- don’t laugh at me.” You stare him straight in the eye, pleading with him. You know you’re going to sound crazy, but you’re praying that your best friend listens to you. He nods, urging you to go on.

“That- that man I saw in my dream and during whatever fucked up game Hyuck had us play? He was in my fucking mirror, Mark. I- the whole night, I had this feeling that I was being watched, and then I went into my bathroom and he was just there, and-” You’re hyperventilating at this point, fighting for every breath, tears clouding your vision. “He was in my car, in the rear view mirror-” Mark pulls you closer, enveloping you in his arms and allowing you to sob loudly into his chest. You cry for a few minutes, until you’re finally able to pull yourself together.

“Shh, it’s okay. You’ve had a rough week, I know. It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay.”

He wipes a tear away from your check, patting you lightly. “Why don’t you go wash this off, okay? We can watch a movie after.” He offers, and until that point, you’d forgotten you were wearing a face mask. You grimace at the green imprint on his black shirt, but he just chuckles. “I’ll go grab you some water in the meantime.”

Nodding, you garner up the energy to walk to his bathroom. It’s fine, the mirror’s covered, he can’t hurt you. You close the door just in case, wanting an extra level of protection

You rinse your face with cold water, hoping that it will clear your mind. You give your face a couple more splashes before drying off with a towel.

“You missed a spot on your forehead.” You freeze before looking around wildly. There’s no one around, which can only mean that Jaehyun can still see you. Swallowing, you start the water again, rubbing at your forehead.

“And your left cheek.” You rub at the skin, being way too harsh but you excuse it considering your situation. “No, your other left. My left.”

“Jesus,” You growl in annoyance, reaching up to rip the towel down. Sure enough, there’s a splotch of green on your cheek. Jaehyun’s nowhere to be found. Maybe I am losing my mind.

You finish rinsing the mask off, finding some face lotion buried in Mark’s drawer, screaming bloody murder when Jaehyun appears in the mirror again. “Looking for me?”

“No! Leave me alone!” You cry, head spinning. Jaehyun fakes a pout, holding a hand over his heart in mock hurt. Do demons even have hearts?

“Ouch, little bird. You don’t want to finish what we started the other night? When I had you moaning so pretty, so wet for me. I’m sure your pussy would take me so well, hmm?” Your heart rate kicks up again, but for a different reason this time. You almost moan, thinking about the dream.

Because he was right, you had been so wet. The want comes back full forces, slamming into you like a truck. You remember how needy you were, wanting to suck his cock so bad, wanting him to fuck you like there’s no tomorrow. All fear that you previously had is slowly disappearing, fading into lust.

The demon smiles knowingly. “Ah, little bird, so you do remember. Remember how you promised me that you’re mine?”

You nod, eyes glazing over. You’re wet, panties starting to stick to your throbbing core uncomfortably.

“Mmmh, I bet you’re already dripping for me. Just waiting for me to come out and fill you up.”

Hearing your name leave his lips sends a wave of arousal crashing through you so strong that your knees buckle, grabbing onto the counter for support. He chuckles, but whatever he’s about to say is cut off by Mark.

“What were you say-” Your best friend trails off, eyes wide as he observes the scene. You snap out of your haze at the interruption. His mouth parts in shock. “You really weren’t kidding, shit.” He laughs humorlessly.

Then, quick as lightning, he rears back and punches the mirror. You scream in surprise at the crack, shards falling to the floor.

You and Mark both stare at the broken shards of glass on the ground, gleaming under the lights. “Mark,” You start, trailing off once you realize you have nothing to say. He seems to understand, walking forward until he’s close enough to pull you into a hug. You feel tears start to slide down your cheeks, dampening the cotton of your best friends shirt. You hug him closer, burying your face into his broad chest. He wraps himself around you, and you let yourself be lulled into the sense of security that his larger frame brings you. A sense of security that vanishes once you hear a low chuckle that definitely does not belong to Mark.

You both scream, leaping backwards and away from the noise. Jaehyun stands there, just in front of the door, with a shit eating grin on his face. You cower behind Mark, who is wrapping a protective arm around you while simultaneously trying to hide behind you.

“I really must thank you for finally setting me free. Normally I have to wait for some asshole with a ouija board, but then there’s just so many other demons that I have to compete with. So I just stick to the dream world-” He pauses to wink at you for emphasis “-but this is so much more fun.” His eyes are black, and you can’t tell where he’s looking. Swallowing, you clutch onto Mark’s arm for dear life.

The demon seems to regard the two of you for a moment, before his amusement seems to grow. He begins to move forward.

“Ah, Mark Lee. Lovely name for a stupid boy. Didn’t you know breaking a mirror is bad luck?” By this point, you and Mark are flattened against the wall, while Jaehyun stands less than a foot away from the two of you. There’s nowhere to run. This is it, you think, this is how I die.

Jaehyun chuckles, turning to you. You lower your gaze to the ground; it hurts to make eye contact with him. “No, little bird. This isn’t how you die, don’t worry.”

Then he’s backing away from the two of you, motioning to follow him. The logical part of your brain is screaming not to, but you find yourself drawn to him, legs carrying you after him without your consent, Mark clutching your arm tightly as he walks next to you.

Jaehyun seems to know the layout of the house, leading you straight into Mark’s bedroom. The demon grabs a chair from the desk and spins it around, straddling it so that he’s facing the bed.

He motions lazily. “Go on now, have a seat. Get comfortable.”

You find yourself sitting down on the edge of the bed, following his words like marching orders. Mark sits about half a foot away from you. Jaehyun shakes his head. “No, no, no. That won’t do. I said to get comfortable, did I not?” He raises an eyebrow as if daring you to argue with him. “Go lay down at the head board.”

You crawl to the head of the bed, settling so that you’re on your side, facing the demon. Mark follows suit, pulling you close to him so that you’re spooning. Jaehyun lets out a pleased hum. “Much better. Aren’t you much more comfortable now?” Nodding, you realize that you actually are more comfortable. It’s not just the change of position, but the energy in the room as well. The demon is no longer giving off a threatening aura. It’s more relaxed, maybe even happy? He certainly looks more relaxed, probably as happy as a demon can get, if not a little smug.

Your body is pulsing with energy, and it takes you a moment to place what you’re feeling. The earlier need to run that you had felt has been replaced with another need, albeit further down. Your thighs clench as another surge of heat pulses through your core, and your face warms at the realization. Why now, of all times, are you horny?

Jaehyun’s grin broadens as he seems to sense your dilemma. “Oh, little bird, if only you knew. Tell me, what type of demon do you think I am?” He watches you curiously, black eyes staring into your soul.

You try to tilt your head towards Mark, but the position’s too awkward and you only catch a glimpse of the side of his face. He looks a bit flushed from what you can see, teeth digging into his plush bottom lip, teeth that you could easily replace with your own- you blink, dazedly. What the fuck? Sexual thoughts about your best friend? That’s a new one. Even if you’ve noticed that he’s hot, you’d never thought about him sexually. Now, though, you can feel the hardness of his dick against your ass, and you can’t help but think about how good he could fuck you.

“Incubus,” You finally manage, blinking rapidly to clear the haze of your vision. Jaehyun grins, looking genuinely surprised that you’d gotten it right.

“Good girl. Make a little sense now?” You nod, fighting a moan as Mark starts to rock against you, slowly, as if he’s unconsciously doing it. Jaehyun notices.

“How about you, Mark? You doing alright over there?”

Your friend, your best friend, buries his face in your neck and groans, deep and delicious. It sends another surge of heat through your body, the growing need between your legs pulsing pathetically. “What are you doing to us?” The words are growled behind you, vibrating against the skin where his lips are pressed.

“Oh no, Mark, I’m not doing anything to you. The only thing I can do to you is make you realize your desires. Your deepest, darkest fantasies? I make that happen. Finally being able to fuck the girl you’ve been in love with for years? I make that happen.” The words take a minute to register with you, but you stiffen when the meaning hits you. Mark Lee, in love with you? An unlikely story, bordering impossible.

The demon chuckles at your inner turmoil, rolling his eyes at how dumb humans can be. “You too, y/n. You love Mark, even if you won’t admit it. You let the idea that he was too good for you scare you away from him. Do you not remember how often you thought of him, late at night after first meeting him?”

You groan in protest, not because it’s not true, but because you do remember. It had been so long ago. When you hadn’t known Mark, had only known of him. You pull away from Mark, awkwardly pushing him to lay flat against the pillows while you clamber on top of him.

“Mark, is it true? Do you love me?” You hold his face between your hands, staring into his eyes. He meets your gaze, pupils blown and eyes half lidded. He nods as best he can.

“So, so much.” Mark’s voice comes out raspy, matching his flushed skin. You lean down to kiss him, uncaring of the other presence in the room. Mark moans when your lips make contact, hands pulling you to straddle him. Your eyelids flutter at the feeling of his clothed cock against your center, rocking your hips to try to ease the throb of your core. His hands fly to your ass, pulling and kneading at the flesh as he urges you into a harsher pace.

The kiss is rougher, needier now, open mouthed and panting. Mark’s got his tongue tangled with yours, sucking in such a way that sends waves of heat through you. You want him in you, any part of him really.

Jaehyun seems to agree, speaking up from right next to you. You jump, having forgotten he was there although he’s the reason you’re like this in the first place.

“Let’s get the show on the road. As much as I’m enjoying this, I think we’d all enjoy something else a little more.” The demon reaches for the hem of your shirt and you nod, raising your arms above your head to let him pull the garment off. Mark groans at the newly revealed skin, hands going to cup your breasts through the fabric of your bra. “Fuck,” He whines, staring in awe at your chest. He doesn’t waste time before leaning up to kiss along your cleavage, pulling the bra down to expose your breasts. Another set of hands unclasp the bra before traveling down your torso to rub circles into your hip bones, sliding your sleeping shorts and panties off at the same time. Jaehyun throws the shorts somewhere off the bed. He keeps the panties, a pleased sigh leaving him as he appreciates the ruined fabric.

“Fuck, little bird. You’re really enjoying this,” He comments, as if he isn’t a fucking lust demon that can sense these kinds of things. You don’t voice your thoughts, because Mark chooses this moment to suck a nipple into his mouth, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive skin so that all you can do is moan. “You’ve even ruined your panties. They’re soaked.”

He hands the strip of lace to Mark, who lets out a throaty groan at the sight. “You’re not getting these back.” He informs you, slipping the garment into his bedside drawer. You ignore him, instead tugging insistently at his shirt. He takes pity on you, grabbing the collar and yanking the baggy tee over his head.

You let your hands slide down his chest in admiration, feeling the hard lines of his muscles. You lick your lips at how broad his shoulders are, how strong he looks. Jaehyun doesn’t give you much time to enjoy the view, gliding two fingers along your slit before circling around your little nub. A cry of pleasure leaves you to mindlessly press your face into Mark’s collarbone, nipping and sucking the flesh until you’re sure you’ve left a bruise.

Jaehyun slips the two fingers into your aching core, curling and dragging them so well along your walls. Sparks of electricity flow through your veins, heat pooling in your center.

Mark groans from below you. Looking down, you see that you’ve unconsciously dug your nails into his hard chest in an effort to ground yourself. You remove your hands, only to spot little red half crescents littered over his skin. You rub your palms over the marks as if to soothe them, but it seems that the man wasn’t groaning from pain.

“Y/n” He sounds so fucked out, voice hoarse and raw even though hardly anything has happened yet. “You look so good like this, so perfect for me.” He brings one large hand up to cup your cheek, thumb delicately stroking over your cheekbone before moving down to trace your lower lip. You part your lips, letting him slide in before sucking around the digit, tongue curling around it as if it were his cock. His eyes darken a fraction, tongue coming out to wet his lips, swollen and kiss bitten.

You moan around the digit as Jaehyun adds a third finger, stretching your walls so pleasantly that you can’t help but buck your hips back for more. A whine forces its way out of your throat as the demon pulls his fingers out of you, leaving an empty ache between your thighs.

“Don’t you think it would be more fun if she was sucking on something a bit bigger than your finger, Mark?” The voice startles you, breath tickling your ear as he speaks. The man under you nods, swallowing thickly. Your eyes are drawn to the way his Adam’s apple bobs with the movement, and a gush of wetness pulses down below. Your thighs are probably covered in your arousal at this point.

You scoot down his body, trailing kisses and bites down his toned stomach. You take your time unzipping his pants, sucking a mark into the soft skin below his navel. He’s hard as a rock, and you moan in appreciation at the sheer size of him once you shimmy his jeans down his thighs.

“No underwear?” You ask, mouth curling up in a teasing smirk. He huffs out a laugh, propping himself up on his elbows so that he can watch. “No, ‘s too restricting.”

You lazily pump his dick, thumb flicking over the tip once or twice. You plan to tease him more, but then Jaehyun’s pushing your head down and you have no choice but to open your mouth wide, innocent eyes peeking up at Mark as you take his cock in your mouth. He’s so big that you can’t take him in all the way, keeping one hand curled around his cock to stroke what your mouth can’t reach. You let it get sloppy, using your spit to ease the glide until you’ve got a pleasant rhythm going. Mark replaces Jaehyun’s hands with his own, gathering strands of your hair in his palms and using that grip to control your pace. “F-fuck,” He lets out a shaky exhale, letting his head fall back against the pillows once he’s satisfied with the pace.

Jaehyun slaps your ass, a loud smack sounding throughout the room. You moan, pitching forward onto Mark’s cock and gagging as he hits the back of your throat. A strangled cry leaves the man above you, his hips thrusting even further into the tight, wet heat of your mouth.

The demon kneads your stinging flesh before using his grip on you to pull your hips up. “Good girl,” You keen under his praises, sticking your ass up even higher. The warm, wet pressure against your center has you faltering, moaning almost violently around Mark’s cock. He doesn’t seem to be having any complaints, the vibrations forcing a moan of his own out.

Your eyes roll up into your head as Jaehyun wraps his lips around your clit, sucking harshly. You’re sure you’d be screaming by now if Mark’s cock wasn’t halfway down your throat. You’ve given up sucking him off by this point, content to let the man fuck your mouth while Jaehyun sucks your fucking soul out from between your legs. It feels so good, not used to being the center of even one man’s focus, let alone two.

Mark eases you off of his cock after you accidentally bite him, using your spit to ease the slide as he lazily fucks up into his loose fist. You rest your head on his thigh, alternating between moaning wantonly and mouthing messily against the skin as you feel your orgasm approach.

Jaehyun pulls away at the last second, and you whine loudly as your orgasm is cut off. The feeling of frustration leaves you close to tears, and you jiggle your ass in hopes that it will regain his attention. It does momentarily, as Jaehyun lands a harsh smack on the flesh, but he pulls away again.

“Mark,” The man in question looks up, hand freezing on his dick as if waiting for Jaehyun’s orders. And fuck, what a sight that would be: your normally brash and confident friend being so pliant and submissive to a near stranger… You blink out of it, feeling mildly ashamed even in your current state. Luckily, Jaehyun interrupts your thoughts. “I’m feeling generous today, so I’ll let you go first. You’ve been waiting long enough for this, anyway.”

Mark nods eagerly, pulling you into a desperate kiss. You paw at every inch of skin you can reach, searching for a release from the ache inside of you. Your wish is granted when he hooks two fingers in your soaking cunt, groaning at how wet you are. He scissors you open quickly, hissing at how tight you feel.

“Ready, angel? Want my cock?” The pet name has you moaning, though it draws a low chuckle from Jaehyun, who’s watching from his position next to Mark.

“Hurry up, already. Need you in me, ‘ve waited so long.”

Mark lights up at this, smile stretching his features. He looks so breathtaking in this moment, skin glowing and flushed, hair mussed up, eyes blown wide and half lidded.

“I’m yours,” He breathes, leaning up for one last kiss. His hands slide down to your hips, pulling you forward so that you’re hovering above his thick cock. “Ride me baby.”

“I’d love to.” Reaching one hand down to position him at your entrance, you start to lower yourself down. Of course, Jaehyun chooses this exact moment to stop you. He truly is the spawn of Satan.

“Little bird, hold on just a second. I found something of interest in the back of Markie’s brain.” You cringe as he mocks your earlier nickname for the man. “What’s this I’m seeing, Mark? You like it up the ass?” His tone is teasing, but Mark groans in embarrassment. His face has gone an alarming shade of red by this point. “N-no,” He tries to deny, sputtering excuses but Jaehyun cuts him off with a press of a finger to his lips. “Oh, Mark, don’t get shy on me now. It’s a perfectly fine thing to like. Little bird, you’ll get your turn in a minute. You,” He snaps his fingers at Mark. “Come here. Kneel up, just like that. Perfect.” He appraises Mark’s ass for a moment, hands moulding the flesh before slipping a finger in. Mark’s eyebrows furrow, and you shoot up in alarm. “Doesn’t he need lube?”

Jaehyun looks at you, surprised that you care, before chuckling. “I can produce lube. Perks of being a lust demon.” Winking at you, he returns his focus to Mark. You can’t see what he’s doing, but the pure pleasure present on your best friends face has you clenching your thighs together, waves of need crashing through you. If you thought he looked good before, he looks absolutely gone now. Breathless groans are leaving him now, eyelids fighting to stay open as he sinks down on the others fingers. You watch him, mesmerized, before shuffling over to him.

“How close are you?”

He forces his gaze down to you. “Kind of- nngh- close, w-why?”

Wrapping a hand around his base lightly, you start stroking. “Will you come if I blow you?”

He moans, a punched out sound that takes you by surprise. “Fuck, yes, I’ll definitely come if you blow me.” You pout in disappointment. Upon seeing your crestfallen expression, he continues. “Maybe we c-can- oh, yes- figure something out. Jaehyun,” He turns his head back behind him, struggling to get the words out between moans. “Can I eat y/n out?”

There’s just something so hot about Mark asking for permission from someone else that you can’t help the whimper that escapes you. Jaehyun must nod, because then you’re being laid back, Mark settling between your thighs. He’s sucking sweet kisses into your core almost immediately, pulling your legs over his shoulders to give him better access. You’re letting out sharp cries of pleasure the whole time, eyes fighting the urge to roll back in your head in favor of watching Mark between your legs. A particularly well placed flick of his tongue has your hips rolling against his face, grasping the sheets in your hand as your mind blanks. The pleasure climbing through your system is insane, threatening to burn you from the inside out.

It only gets better once Mark starts moaning, his sinful mouth sending sweet vibrations traveling up your core. You manage to catch sight of Jaehyun behind him, kissing wetly along his shoulders and neck, features curving into a smirk once he notices you watching him.

“Little bird likes this, hmm? Like watching another man pleasure your boyfriend while he pleases you?” You hum, unable to tear yourself away from his gaze, unable to even think, letting his boyfriend comment slide. Whereas before it hurt to look directly into his eyes, you now find yourself getting lost in his dark orbs. It’s like a drug, your pleasure being amplified by the man, demon, whatever in front of you.

You finally break eye contact, head falling back against the mattress as Mark draws you closer and closer to your peak. Burying one hand in his hair, you use the leverage to grind your core against his face, chasing your sweet release. “C-close, Mark, please-” You don’t know what you’re begging for at this point. It’s too much but not enough at the same time. Jaehyun saves you from having to decide by cruelly ripping your orgasm away from you, again, dragging Mark’s face away from your pussy.

A few tears slip down your face at this point, frustration reaching its peak. Jaehyun wipes the tears away, laughing lowly. “Don’t worry, you’ll get what you desire soon.”

He must pull out of Mark, because your friend whimpers before seeming to realize what he just did and clears his throat uncomfortably.

“Mark, would you like to fuck our little bird now?” Mark nods, tongue flicking out to wet dry lips.

Jaehyun smirks. “Good. On your back. Y/n, ride him.” You don’t have to be told twice. You scramble onto your knees, wasting no time in straddling Mark before dropping yourself down on him. You both moan in satisfaction, you at finally being filled and Mark at your tightness. You have to brace both hands on his chest, almost collapsing at the overwhelming relief you feel. Beyond the burn of the stretch, his cock filling you up so nicely, there’s a sweet pleasure, a satisfaction.

You don’t wait very long to adjust, grinding your hips in smooth circles before lifting yourself off of him and dropping yourself back down. You quickly start a rhythm of you bouncing on his cock, eyes rolling at how fucking big he feels in you.

Mark’s hands are locked in a vice grip on your ass, fingers digging into the supple flesh and using his grip to urge you into a faster pace.

Jaehyun decides to join, coming up behind you to kiss at your neck, one hand reaching up to your mouth. “Suck,” He commands, slipping two fingers past your willing lips. You do, hollowing your cheeks and slurping around the digits, wishing that it was his dick. He hums behind you, bringing the wet digits down to your entrance, finding your clit with ease and rubbing fast circles into the little nub. You moan even louder now, feeling yourself speed towards your climax. You’ve been on edge for too long, you can’t hold on anymore.

“You close, little bird? Going to come on Mark’s cock? Gonna make him fill you up, pound into that dirty cunt?” His words get to you, your head falling back against his shoulder once more.

“Yes, yes! Oh, please, please-” He cuts off your mindless rambling by pulling you in for a kiss, one that you melt into. This is the first time he’s kissed you, and you’re quite upset that you hadn’t kissed him earlier. It’s a hot kiss, lots of tongue and teeth. It heightens your pleasure immensely, and you can’t stop kissing him. You suck on his tongue filthily, and oh, he must like that if the resulting groan is anything to go by. Even when he goes to pull away, you won’t let him, one hand fisting in his hair to keep him close. He seems to be speeding up your release, if that were even possible. Your mind feels hazier now, every sensation heightened, core screaming for release. You feel your orgasm twisting painfully at your insides, pulsing before finally exploding. The intensity of it rips a scream out of your throat, nails scratching across Mark’s chest as Jaehyun licks even deeper into your mouth, drinking up the noises you make.

When you come down, Mark is still thrusting desperately up into you, though he stops at the demons command. “From behind,” You hear Jaehyun say, but everything’s hazy at this point. Your mind is still fuzzy from your orgasm, and it’s like watching through a screen. Like you’re high, though you hadn’t had anything the whole day.

Mark manhandles you into position, hands and knees with your ass raised high in the air. He leaves one gentle kiss on your shoulder blade before relentlessly pounding into you, cock hitting even deeper in this position. Jaehyun kneels in front of you, pulling your face in towards his cock. You moan around him as he slips inside, mouth not quite burning at the stretch like Mark, though the demon still has you gagging. His cock has the same effect on you as his kisses did, and you feel addicted. You’re slurping and sucking and moaning around him, not wanting the intense pleasure to stop. You barely hear the kissing above you, taking far too long to register that Jaehyun has pulled Mark into a messy kiss above you. The image has you moaning even more wantonly, ass pushing back against Mark.

The kiss seems to have a similar effect on the man, because then he’s slamming into you at an even more relentless rate, moans higher and more frequent before he’s coming with a shout, finally filling you up. Your core pulses again at the feeling, and you suck at Jaehyun’s dick with renewed vigor. His hands fist in your hair, keeping you still so that he can fuck your mouth as hard as he wants. You relish in the feeling of your throat being fucked raw, spit dripping out of your mouth and down his cock. He lets out a deep groan, hips slamming deep one last time as he finishes. His cum seems to ignite a fire within you, because you’re coming almost simultaneously with him, despite not even being touched.

You collapse afterwards, dragging yourself to Mark and letting him drape himself over you. You let yourself drift off to sleep, sated and still riding the high.

The demon kisses each of you one last time, drinking in the last remaining parts of your soul, watching as the two humans take their last breaths. “Thanks for the meal, lovelies.” He chuckles, petting your head almost affectionately before walking out into the night sky, not sparing a single glance back.

#mark smut #mark lee smut #jaehyun smut #jung jaehyun smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #kpop smut #super m smut #nct u smut #gonna delete any asks abt bts or the old blog so pls dont send any lol #not for bad reasons or anythnig i just dont have anything to say abt them #ummm ok i did edit this but it was originally jin and hoseok so if you see their names that's an accident my b #anyways enjoy kdjsnfj

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tteokdoroki · 3 years

Text

baby, you’re tiny | k.bakugou.

⇝ pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader.

⇝ word count: 2.3K

⇝ rating: mature, 18+.

⇝ genre: first time!au, smut.

⇝ summary: there were many things katsuki loved about his girlfriend, the main being how tiny she was compared to him; more specifically, how tiny she looked when they were in the bedroom.

⇝ warning(s): please read ! heavy smut, pwp ( characters aged up to 18 ), size!kink, protected sex, fingering ( female recieving ), virginity loss, sub!reader + dom!bakugou,spitting?? y’all idk its just smut ok!! katsuki is soft <33

⇝ author’s note(s): hello hello hello!! it’s been a while since i posted my lastr request so i hope you enjoy this!! this was a request by anon, apologies for the delay. also :( my blog has grown so much so i want to thank you all for 1K, ilysm <3

⇝ masterlist | requests

you were tiny.

and if there was one thing katsuki bakugou loved most about you, his girlfriend, his how tiny you were.

at least compared to him.

most of class A had been shocked when you started dating at the start of second year; since in first year, all katsuki had done was pick on you for your height ( or lack thereof ) and nag you for your quirk— lullaby hadn’t been quite so powerful back then. but your fondness for him grew that summer, having spent time with he and eijirou over the break.

bakugou was sweet when he wanted to be, soft and attentive to you and you only. his teasing gradually let up, turning into sweet gestures or whispered praises and then finally stolen kisses under the night sky.

that’s what lead you both to date, in the end; but everyone supported you nonetheless. it was quite funny to see the great katsuki bakugou help fix your uniform in the morning or make you breakfast in the dorms and even if he yelled at the others for mentioning it— he loved the weight of your barely-there palm in his and the way you pouted up him with faux anger when he rested his elbow on your head.

you were short enough for him to tower over you and twirl you in his arms, small enough to look like you drowning in his hoodies that he gave you. even if he stopped mocking you for your height, over a year ago— even now, in your third year he still loved it.

you were so tiny and he loved it.

he especially loved the way you looked under him right now.

“ka-katsuki-!”

your moan fills his ears, overloading each one of his senses and he thinks it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard in his life. pulling his fingers from your slick heat, bakugou’s eyes stay trained on yours as he brings them up to his lips and sucks the remainders of your orgasm away. he lives for the way your face twists with a fresh wave of pleasure and your eyes plead him for more through the dimmed light of his dorm room.

he pinches your thighs, the ones that quiver from your second release of the night, and leans above you to pry your arm away from your heated face. “feel good, sweetheart?” the blonde asks softly, now that he can see you, fingers weaving between your bodies to draw shapes into your swollen clit. you nod once and screw your eyes shut, bare chest arching into katsuki’s at his simple touch. “need another?”

peeking up at him, your boyfriend can see the internal debate dancing in your lust filled eyes. bakugou had fingered you twice to orgasm already and asked if you needed another only to prepare you. for weeks now; you’d both entertained the idea of being one another’s first’s— of course you’d done more than just makeouts and heavy petting but after a year of dating, you finally wanted to be together as one ( bakugou’s words not your own ).

finally, you answer him with a soft ‘no, think i’m ready now,’ and the hot headed boy can barely contain his excitement. he presses a searing kiss to your lips— tongues sliding together while bakugou swallows your helpless whimpers from where you taste yourself on him. your own hand slips between you both now, curling around your boyfriend’s hardening length to palm him.

meanwhile, with a breathless groan, katsuki’s lips slip down to suck love bites into the column of your throat, but only gently. he knows you hate marks but’ll get a kick out of the others fawning over them the next day. the speed of your hand picks up, jerking him off as if for revenge— you knew how easy bakugou could come undone with just your touch and he revels in the way your tiny hands wrap around his thick girth, barely grazing the circumference of it.

just like how you could barely fit his cock in your mouth when you sucked him off—

“baby— fuck,” the blonde’s breath stutters, mind becoming foggy with thoughts of your lips on his girth egging him on. he should stop you before he cums; stop himself from rutting into your small fingers and the thumb that brushes over the glands on his head. bakugou doesn’t want to cum before he’s got a chance to take you for the first time— even if he’d given you plenty of chances to. “slow down little bear, gotta fuck you before— before i cum…”

you grin at him from behind the warmth beneath your skin. “then get to it, katsu…”

the explosive third year gives you one last pinch to your clit and leans back on his thighs ever so slightly to reach for a condom. he quickly rolls it on, tapping his latex covered length against your dripping entrance as he prepares to make you his. you squirm underneath bakugou, fingers reaching up to weave their way into his blonde glossed hair— yanking him closer to you while he finally makes an effort to push into your needy heat.

crimson gaze fluttering down, katsuki looks to where your bodies begin to become joined, your tiny cunt fluttering around the head of his cock as he slides himself inside of you. he feels thick drool pool on his tongue at the very sight, he’s not even half the way in and your gushing pussy is already struggling to take his cock. “would’ya look at that little one,” his words are slurred around the saliva building up in his mouth. you’re so fucking small it’s driving him insane. you follow your boyfriend’s gaze, spasming at how he begins to stretch you out. “seems like your little pussy’s too tight, too small to take your man’s fat cock, huh?”

a strangled whimper sounds in the back of your throat, making katsuki smirk as he taps your cheek with a freehand. he feels a sense of pride lurch in his, how good it feels to be so big that his pretty little princess can’t take him all but he wants a verbal answer from you, wants to hear you struggle just like your glistening heat does.

“yes, ’s too small…” you sigh, chewing on your bottom lip as you meat his eye again—moving to wrap your thighs around his waist.

“should i fuck you open, baby?” you moan lowly at his words, hips bucking up and pussy clenching around his girth involuntarily. “yeah? your greedy little cunt likes the sounda that…” bakugou tries again, leaning over you as he slowly drives his hips forward to push more of his cock into you.

his head drops to your neck, puffs of his breath warm against your skin while he uses all of his willpower to hold back. katsuki knows he’s big, that he can make you feel good because of it too, but he doesn’t want to hurt you. he never wants to. when his dribbling length is half plunged inside you, the ash blonde’s fingers drop to your clit once more— soothing the burn of his weighty dick to help you suck in more of him.

your head thrashes in the sheets while he whispers praises against your bruised and bitten flesh. “you can take it baby, i know you can…”

and you do.

the pair of you groan in unison once katsuki is fully sheathed inside of you, twitching at the feeling of your soft velvety walls finally engulfing him. you can feel the leaking head of his cock prodding at your cervix, stimulating you without your boyfriend having to even move and sending shivers down your spine.

“p-please, katsuki…move.” you growl hungrily, pulling him down to smack a wet, passionate kiss against his awaiting lips. although your teeth and tongue clash messily in your liplock, bakugou doesn’t need to be told twice, drawing back his hips from the comfort of your warmth to thrust into you. the pace is slow at first, sensual grinds against each other as he stretches you out, moulding your walls into the shape of his cock.

it’s not until bakugou’s hips reach a certain angle, prodding against your sweet spot that things take a turn. a high pitched squeal dances through the room, mingling with the sound of your lover’s harsh thrusts as he claims your insides over and over. he revels in the way you suck him in and squeeze around him, painting his cock with your sweet nectar and earlier releases. “taking me so fucking well little one,” bakugou spits out through gritted teeth, barely hanging onto his last thread of sanity, the way you look right now, so flustered and messy with arousal almost pushing him over the edge. “look at you taking such a big fat cock in this tiny fucking hole, you love how big i am don’t you?”

you can barely form an answer when your eyes are rolling to the back of your head at the sheer amount of pleasure, incoherent babbles filling the little space between you both, only urging katsuki on. he already knows how much you love the size difference between you. outside of the bedroom, bakugou uses his height to tease you— putting things on the top shelf to watch you struggle to reach them but inside; he’s absolutely relentless.

he knows you adore the way he uses his larger size to dominate you, stuff your mouth full of his cock or fingers and he adores the way you take him contentedly no matter what.

“mmf— fuck, right there katsuki, feels so good!” you sigh, eyes still closed but your tongue now lolls out of your mouth— creating the perfect lewd picture that your lover will commit to memory. while his large hands sear bruises into your hips he holds still, a free hand comes up to pull down your bottom lip before he spits sweetly into your open mouth. your eyes slowly open to look at him, locking on his ruby stare as you blissfully smile up at him. katsuki swears he almost creams on the spot. “thank you katsu…”

“that’s fuckin’ right princess, thank me for my spit. thank me for making you feel good.” bakugou’s guttural moans dip into low growls, his pace picking up as your iron hot cunt clamps down on him which causes the head of his cock to drag against the spongy spot inside of you— making you see stars and your hips jump to meet the blonde’s erratic thrusts.

hot slick gushes down the your thighs from the sinful way he moves and absused your tightness, evidence of your arousals shining under the moon that slips through his drawn curtains. you can feel his balls slap feverntly against your ass that katsuki spreads apart to plow into you, latex covered length going as far to brush against your womb. each grind, each thrust has your moans rising an octave to the point where your lover has his hands clamped over your mouth to keep you from being too loud.

bakugou sits back on his haunches, pulling you up into his chest with him. you rest weakly in his lap as the explosive boy angles his thrusts upwards and straight into your oozing heat. a broken whimper breaks free from his lips as katsuki catches sight of the slight tummy bulge his fat cock gives you and you see it too, your own whines mingling with his to form a lovers tune.

he knows you’re close by the way you suddenly become tighter and he fucks into you, deeper, harder, faster.

“close katsu, ‘m getting close…” you slur into his shoulder, biting at his skin to keep control of your hazy, lust filled mind. you paint love bites in shades of blues and indigos across the canvas of his shoulders and neck while katsuki uses his pure strength to lift you up and down onto his cock. he groans every time your heat welcomes him again, drawing you closer and closer to the edge. your nails dig into his back, forming sweet creasent moons and making him moan loudly. “gimme it little one, gimme your fuckin’ cum, gonna cream on my cock? yeah? oh fuck yeah…”

his lewd words are what push you off the edge, the coil of desire that had been building up inside you finally snapping. your third release of the night gushes all over your lover’s thick girth, which he still pushes into you, helping you ride out your high. black spots paint your vision as you cum, cunt clamping down on bakugou while he chases his own release.

“cum for me bakugou, please…” you breath gently against his skin, pressing small kisses over his sore love bites. “love you so much, please…”

that’s all he needs to hear from you before spilling his seed into the condom with a shout, twitching as he collapses onto the soiled sheets of his bed with you. the pair of you lay together, still locked together while bakugou calms down from his high in slow grinds, fingers searching for yours to intertwine your tiny hands with his. “love you more dumbass,” he says eventually, smile on his face betraying him against the harsh petname.

you smile at him even as he pulls away to throw away the condom, returning with a wash cloth to clean you both up. “not true, katsuki, i love you most!” you exclaim, tail end of your words falling into a stream of giggles as bakugou presses a flurry of kisses to your face. “with every inch of my body!”

“must not be a lotta love then, y’know, since you’re so fuckin’ tiny.” the blonde hums into your hands when they reach up to cup his face lovingly.

you huff and pinch his cheek after that, calling him a meanie.

but katsuki bakugou doesn’t care, he’ll always love you, no matter how tiny you are.

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harrys-titties · 3 years

Text

Y/N adores books and her boyfriend and Harry falls in love.

17K+

Warnings: Hinting at an abusive relationship and smut smut

(A/N this is based off a tiktok by @abbey.freeze, but in saying that, these characters are my own, I am in no way insinuating anything about her past or present relationship so please keep that in mind!! Idk bout this one, but I’m excited about my next piece, so take this as a crumb while I write the next one. Let me know what y’all think)

-masterlist-

9th December 2021

It was the first time during the whole day that Y/N felt like she could truly breathe. All morning a weight had settled upon her lungs; each huff of air she attempted to fill her chest with was heavy and laboured.

An ache had settled upon her chest as soon as she’d woken up to her alarm, blaring at her a whole hour after she had initially planned to wake up for work. The pressure on her ribs was immediate as she had flown out of bed, tugging on a top and a pair of jeans she’s sure should’ve been washed at least three days ago and pulled on her sneakers.

Her head felt as if it had been filled with all the air her lungs were struggling to find, leaving her dizzy as Xander, her boyfriend, grouched at her for being too loud “at eight in the fucking morning,” undoubtedly still in a sleep-induced haze. Y/N threw an “I’m sorry, I’m late for work” over her shoulder, only hearing a groan and potential eye roll behind her in response as she slammed the door shut.

Her fingertips started to feel numb as she fumbled around her dimly lit apartment for her pair of keys, usually easy to spot with the plush koala bear she’d bought from her trip to Australia three years prior dangling from the ring and the mix of brightly coloured keys, each coordinated to a different part of Y/N’s life jangling around.

(Red for home, blue for her car, yellow for work, purple for Xander’s car, and green for her parents home. The keys were painted with tacky nail polish she had brought from the convenience store on the corner block a few streets from her house, designed to help in moments precisely like this one, except obviously they weren’t helping enough.)

When she does finally find them and attempts to use the blue key to start her car, her heart rate begins to slow down with the lack of oxygen, because of course the key wouldn’t fucking work, the vehicle only emitting a choked cough before leaving her in silence once again.

Y/N begins to feel on the verge of fainting as she hails a cab on the street, too concerned with the lack of energy firing in her nerve endings and finding one to realise she was definitely getting wet in the rain, only noticing when she sits on the leather seat of the yellow car with a befitting squelch.

It’s only now, as she steps into the shop that had formed part of her personality through her teenage years, can she take a proper breath. Her screaming lungs are finally silenced at the rush of oxygen entering them, the smell of new books and pressed ink unknotting the tense muscles in her shoulders, allowing the pain to seep from her veins into a puddle at her feet.

She catches the sympathetic gaze of Max, the old bookshop owner whose leathery hands and woodsy cologne had helped raise her as much as her own parents had. Motioning her behind the counter, he excuses himself from the lady he was currently discussing what looked to be one of Bukowski’s poetry books with to lead Y/N to the back room, his familiar hands rubbing her shoulder kindly and his eyebrows knitted in worry.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” His tone is gentle and soft, just as it always was. In the seven years Y/N had known Max, she didn’t think she’d ever heard his voice rise above a whisper, his calming tone always one of reason against Y/N’s often chaotic thoughts.

She works hard not to cry, looking up to the ceiling and pursing her lips gently. She knows by the way he squeezes her arm gently that he notices but doesn’t say anything, simply waits for Y/N to exhale a shaky puff of air and nod her head slowly, “yeh just been a bad morning, y’know?”

He nods slowly, the movement sending more of his cedar wood perfume in her direction, “of course. I understand. Maybe make yourself a cup of tea and relax for a little bit, take your time. Are you still okay to close tonight, or did you want me to call Laura in to cover you?”

She’s quick to shake her head, knowing that eight hours of work would probably do her good. She could use the distraction and comfort the old book store always provided her with. “Nah, I’ll be fine. Just let me catch my breath, and I’ll be out to help you.”

Max squeezes her shoulder one last time, giving her a friendly smile, wrinkles forming around his eyes and mouth, the movement clearly familiar and well-practised. “Of course, Y/N. I’m here if you ever need anything.”

With one final squeeze of her shoulder, he disappears out the front, leaving Y/N to calm her breathing and sip on her tea.

----

The rest of the day goes by relatively smoothly, a lady comes in looking for a children’s book for a baby shower present, a teenager asks about books on romance (specifically any enemies to lovers stories. Y/N quickly recommends ‘The Unhoneymooners’ by Christina Lauren) and an old man asking for any books Trump had written, which Y/N has to force herself not to sneer at and politely explain they didn’t stock those by choice.

While the day seemed dreary, with grey clouds constantly making it feel as if it were late afternoon and the rain pattering against the window panes of the homey old store, Y/N didn’t mind. She had always loved the feeling of being inside, reading and tucked away from the stormy weather, and work proved no different. The smell of earthy covers filled with thousands of pages pressed with ink served as a source of comfort for Y/N, and half the time, if there was no one in the store, she would make herself a cup of tea and continue reading one of the many books their shelves stocked.

While the day initially looked as if it would be one of those where she could relax and try to finish the book she was currently reading, it proved to be slightly different. A shipment of books they’d just received (almost double what they usually would due to Christmas being just around the corner) meant she had spent most of the day unpacking boxes, adding them to the system before stacking them on shelves, only pausing to serve customers and to eat a sad turkey sandwich she had purchased from the corner shop at lunchtime.

By the time ten to six had rolled around, Y/N had successfully put all the books away, tired from her efforts and definitely looking forward to a warm bath and dinner. However, the aching resistance in her muscles reminded her of the good job she had done, and she revels in the hard work that had effectively distracted her from her stressful morning.

Usually, Y/N used the last ten minutes of her shift to wash the numerous cups she had used for her tea during the day, which now sat stacked neatly next to the sink in the back room. Still, her plan is somewhat ruined when she hears the telltale ring of the bell attached to the front door just as she reaches her hands into the soapy water. She quickly wipes her wet hands on the front of her jeans and checks the time on her way, noting the 5:55pm blinking at her on the computer screen.

She notices a man walking towards one of the shelves to her left and greets him cheerfully, “hi there! Let me know if there’s anything I can help you with today.” And while it felt like she had finally caught her breath nearly eight hours ago, when his piercing green eyes met hers, it felt as if she had lost it once again.

He was extremely handsome, with a mop of brown curls flopped over his forehead, beautiful eyes and tan skin, all accompanied by a charming smile adorned with slight bunny teeth and a deep dimple. His voice is deep and melodic as he answers, “will do, thanks.” He gives her a gentle smile, looking away towards one of the shelves of books before glancing back at her again, making awkward eye contact with Y/N, who was very much still staring at him.

She quickly looks away and coughs slightly into her hand, turning onto the computer and clicking aimlessly around, almost sure that at this point her face was aflame with a cherry red colour.

It’s only when she hears his footsteps steadily approaching the counter a few minutes later does she brave looking up once more.

He’s standing in front of the desk, the same coy smile he had when he walked in filling the bottom half of his face, and Y/N does her best to tear her eyes away from his lips, meeting his intense eyes instead. She does her best to give him a genuine smile despite her heartbeat pounding away through her ears.

“Uh, I was just wondering if you sold used books here? Or d’you just sell new ones?” Y/N takes a moment to reply, still surprised at how his honeyed timbre feels falling against her ears. Eventually, she shakes her head lightly, “no, sorry, we just sell new books, unfortunately.”

He tuts, nodding in acknowledgement, “was scared you were gonna say that.” Laughing, she steps away from the computer, giving him her full attention. “Sorry to disappoint. What book were you looking for in particular?”

Y/N watches as tiny crows feet form at the corners of his eyes as he smiles at her, the expression bringing a sense of warmth to the girl’s face. “Can’t be a real bookseller if you don’t sell second-hand books… but I guess I’ll let it slide.” Y/N scoffs, recognising his teasing tone, before rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. The man in front of her rolls onto his toes lightly, moving his arms to mirror her current position, giving her the same goading smile and eyes, trying to prompt her into teasing him back.

He continues when he notices her silence, “I’m looking for ‘Love is a Mixtape’ by..”

“Rob Sheffield,” Y/N interrupts him, blushing when she realises what she’d done. His widened grin encourages her to continue. “I’ve heard that one is an interesting read. We definitely have it in stock, but can I ask why it has to be used?”

The man distracts himself by playing with the ‘I heart NY’ mug filled with pens that Y/N had collected a few years ago, pulling at a particular blue ballpoint and clicking it in his hand.

“You’ve never read it?” He looks shocked, his fiddling briefly stopping as he looks at her in disbelief, before he smirks, “now you really can’t convince me you’re a real bookseller.” Y/N raises her eyebrows and smirks back at him, refusing to play into his baiting.

When she doesn’t respond again, he only continues unphased, still as confident as the moment he walked through the door, “interesting is one way to put it,” he briefly smiles and looks up at her, blinking as a chunk of his hair falls into his eyes. “I don’t know, don’t you think it’s more fascinating that way? When the book is second-hand, I mean.”

Y/N ignores the flutter in her chest at the direct eye contact and shrugs, “how so?”

He doesn’t drop her eye, and Y/N begins to feel slightly intimidated by the direct gaze as it almost becomes too much to handle, the temptation to look down at her feet like a lovesick middle schooler proving difficult to ignore. “It’s as if you get to see someone else realise the profound intricacies of love and loss while you discover them yourself. Don’t you think?”

A laugh spills from her mouth, “how could you experience someone else reading the book like that?”

He shrugs “the dog eared pages, underlined words, notes they’ve written. All homages to the epiphanies they’ve made along the way, no?”

She nods, deeply intrigued with how much thought he’d put into something so trivial; it was almost endearing. “I guess I’ve never thought of it that way, very…” she pauses to think, “philosophical. Well, like I said, we only sell new books here, but there’s a second-hand bookstore a few blocks down on Perry Street. I think it’s open till six-thirty.”

Humming in acknowledgment, he looks back up at her, standing straight and dropping the pen back into the mug. “Hm, thanks. And what time do you close?”

Turning back towards the computer, Y/N checks the time on the screen, “about five minutes ago, actually.”

For the first time since he had walked in, Y/N sees an indication that the man before her was slightly frazzled. His cheeks flush with a gentle pink, and his hand comes to rub at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.”

Y/N laughs, immediately allowing a sense of relief to flush into the man in front of her, “it’s fine, don’t stress!”

“I’m Harry, by the way.”

It was so befitting, boyish and charming but somehow timely, perfectly matching the handsome face in front of her, and if it wasn’t for Xander, Y/N is sure she would be infatuated.

Harry takes the hand she outreaches, his touch warm and soothing. “I’m Y/N.”

“That’s a pretty name.” Y/N feels her face heat up, but before she can craft an appropriate response, Harry speaks again, “so what’s the plan for after work, Y/N?”

“Um, nothing planned yet. I’m working tomorrow, so I’ll probably just order some pizza or something and have an early night.”

Harry nods along as she speaks, “well, that does sound fun. There’s- um, there’s a really good pizza shop just down the street. Did you wanna go get some together?” For the first time since he’d walked through the door, the speed in which he spoke increased, his words no longer dripping out of his mouth like honey but spilling from it, erratic and unrehearsed. “Just so, you know, y’don’t have to eat alone.”

All at once, Y/N felt her heart fall. She wanted to say yes so badly, wanted to drop everything and have dinner with him. She wanted to hear more about his philosophical way of thinking and probe into his obsession with used books. She wanted to watch his mouth form around her name again and again, and she wanted to see his eyes light up again when he realised she was looking at his lips rather than catching his gaze.

But she was with Xander, and it wouldn’t feel right to go out for dinner with another man, even if that man was Harry, so she shakes her head and watches as the hope in his eyes dims like a flickering lightbulb. “I’m really sorry; I just don’t think it would be appropriate.” She looks down at her hands clasped together on the counter as she continues, unable to see how her admittance would affect him, “I have a boyfriend.”

To Harry’s credit, he takes it well, smiling reassuringly and nodding in a way that told Y/N he didn’t take it all that personally. “Oh, that’s fine, not surprising at all! I’m sure he’s a lucky guy.”

A sinking feeling seeps into Y/N’s gut, and she works seriously hard to ignore it, swallowing again and again, trying to force the idea of going with Harry down and away from her brain. She wouldn’t entertain the idea of this mysterious man, and she wouldn’t entertain the idea of betraying Xander. Their relationship may not have been perfect, but she would never stoop that low; she knew how much that would hurt him.

“I’m sorry. You seem really sweet, I just… yeh I love him.”

Harry’s not sure if she’s trying to convince him or herself. Reaching across the counter, he squeezes her wrist once before quickly retreating, the touch zapping Y/N’s skin, “please stop apologising; there’s nothin’ to be sorry for. Now it was lovely meeting you. I hope you have a lovely night while I go find this book.” She nods, thanking him quickly before watching him pick up the bag he had dropped while talking to her and heading out the door. Stopping in the doorway, he looks back at her, sending a cheeky wink her way, “enjoy your pizza.”

She can’t help but feel a sense of loss as his mop of curls disappear down the street as if she’d just thrown away the first thing that had brought butterflies to her belly in years. Once again, she swallows, attempting to down the feeling, grappling around her throat. Grabbing her handbag from behind the desk, she heads out the door, locking it on the way out.

On her way home, Y/N replays the brief conversation they had over and over, thinking about how his thoughts had spilt over his tongue so simply and confidently. He had an aura about him, a quiet, self-assured presence that immediately allowed Y/N herself to feel comfortable.

A song playing on the radio snaps her out of her stupor, the familiar beat bringing her back to the first time Xander had kissed her. It was the night of her eighteenth birthday, and she was drunk, having spent the night around a bonfire with too much vodka and orange juice swirling in her belly.

This song was playing as Xander had kissed her, tasting of cheap bourbon and Coke, with just a little too much tongue and not enough feeling. She guesses it was a fond memory, a marker of the many years she and Xander would spend together, during which his kissing ability had definitely improved.

She starts to wonder how the years had gone by so quickly, feeling as if one year she was graduating high school and getting drunk with her friends and the next she was working full time at a bookstore, living with her boyfriend and only calling her mother once a week.

She’d never felt a specific attachment to music, but this particular, shitty upbeat pop song, brought her to a place of feeling she had never experienced before. A sense of nostalgia and longing for a life she had never had but clearly wished she could achieve. She can hardly even remember what her dreams or aspirations had been at eighteen. She’d wanted to travel around Europe and get married on the beach, open her own bookstore, live in a flat with three of her best friends and fall in love with someone she couldn’t have even imagined would be so perfect for her.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t achieved some of these things. She had gone on a few road trips and met Xander, who she imagines she’ll marry eventually. It just wasn’t quite what she’d expected from adulthood, but she guesses most people her age felt the same way.

Was adulthood always accompanied by the sinking feeling Y/N felt in her gut?

But just like that, the song was over, the last notes of the guitar fading into silence, the same air conditioner she always turned higher was still blasting on her flushed face, and she was still driving down the same roads she’d been driving for the last few years, as lost and confused as she’d always been, no closer to her adolescent self’s idea of a perfect life and no closer to her current self’s idea of that either.

——

How Y/N’s day had ended worse than it had begun, she had no idea. She really didn’t think it could get worse, genuinely believing that sitting on a damp leather seat in the back of a taxi, late for work and on the verge of tears was the lowest someone could get, that was until she’d walked into her apartment to be met with a disgruntled Xander looking through her MacBook.

“Xander? What are you doing on my laptop?” The slam of the computer closing scares her more than it should, and she lets out a sigh as she catches the irate look on Xander’s face. “Maybe you should tell me why I need to be.”

Y/N would be confused, and she really wishes this was a scenario she was inexperienced and shocked by; however it was not. At the start of their relationship, Xander and Y/N had struggled with Xanders insecurities, constantly battling with fears of Y/N leaving or cheating on him. While they’d never actively discussed it, Y/N believed it came from his previous ex-girlfriend always being a bit shady, but she’d tried really hard to ensure these irrational fears were put to rest.

However, these insecurities had caused a strain on their relationship, so much so they’d almost broken up on multiple occasions. Y/N stupidly always thought they had finally gotten over it, but it seemed every few months they reappeared, always causing as much havoc as the first time.

Y/N didn’t know if she could handle this today. She loved him, she really did, but there were some days when the emotional toll of convincing someone she wasn’t sneaking around behind their back became exhausting.

“Xander, come on, we’ve spoken about this. I’m not cheating on you.”

He scoffs, and the noise brings her blood to a boil, “I didn’t even mention cheating. Why would you bring that up?”

It’s Y/N’s turn to scoff, “because it’s what you accuse me of all the time. I understand that this must be frustrating for you, but it’s just not true.”

She can see the tension rolling off of his shoulders, and if this routine hadn’t become so frustrating for her as well, she would empathise with him. “I just… I can’t trust you.”

Around this time in their fucked up regimen, either Y/N or Xander usually began to cry, but Y/N thinks she’s too angry to even entertain the thought of shedding a tear. “Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?” The words come out strained and slightly harsher than she had intended.

“How do I know if you’ve never told me?” Just as Y/N suspected, Xander’s tone matches her own, clipped and short. Clearly, anger was brimming under the surface, just waiting to explode out in a slew of criticisms and nasty names. She sighs and shakes her head, walking past the couch into the kitchen to turn on the kettle. “Y/N! Don’t walk away from me!”

Grabbing a mug from the cupboard, Y/N takes a few deep breaths in and counts to five, willing herself to relax and diffuse the icy fury travelling through her veins. “Xander, I can’t do this today. I had a horrible morning and really just want to relax and eat dinner. I know this is upsetting for you, but there’s only so many times I can tell you I never have and will never cheat on you. If you don’t believe me, so be it; there’s nothing I can do.”

Xander’s voice is poisonous when he speaks, and the words even take Y/N by surprise.

“Fuck you.” With that, he leaves, swiping the keys off the kitchen bench and slamming the door behind him, and it’s only then that Y/N allows her tears to fall.

She had never felt further from the person her eighteen-year-old self wanted her to be.

----

6th January 2022

Y/N had always believed in new beginnings and always loved the idea of renewal and change. Luckily, the new year of 2022 provided that for her. While Y/N didn’t necessarily believe in the concept of new year’s resolutions, choosing to believe she could change at any time in the year, the new year happened to bring a multitude of improvements.

She had become the manager at the bookstore, having been offered the position a few times over the years she’d been working there but constantly rejecting it. She didn’t want the added pressure or stress and feeling like someone else had always been more qualified and responsible. Plus, she was younger, still busy with parties and unrealistic dreams for travel and change. But when Max had offered her the position for the fourth time, she thought it through and eventually accepted it.

It came with a slight pay rise, and hell, she wasn’t doing anything else with her time. If she wanted to have her own bookstore one day, she supposed this was the first step towards it.

She’d moved out of her old apartment, opting for a place only a five-minute walk from the store, allowing her to walk to work in the mornings, grabbing a steaming cup of green tea and a chocolate croissant from the corner store on the way.

She’d seen Harry a few times, once when he had come into the bookstore with a friend, quickly explaining that “they insisted on buying a new book, can you believe it?” To which Y/N had responded with a laugh, jesting about how insane they were to read anything that wasn’t second hand while holding her own, fresh off the press novel she had been reading before he entered the store. His familiar smirk and wink had left her with a pit in her stomach for days, something, not even romance novels could fix.

She’d also seen him at the grocery store, which led her to wonder if they’d ever walked past each other before, and she had never noticed. She finds it hard to believe she wouldn’t have paid attention to his rogue curls and boyish charm, hard to ignore even if you weren’t the one having a conversation with him. He clearly hadn’t seen her, busy chatting with a girl by his side and pointing animatedly at the cereals. Y/N had torn her gaze away from him, quickly grabbing the carrots and potatoes she was planning to add to the soup she was making for dinner.

And she’d finally broken up with Xander. The night that he’d stormed out had been a breaking point for both of them, it seemed. He’d come back the next day, waking Y/N, who had fallen asleep on the couch after eating the pizza she’d ordered, with a less than gentle shake. Claiming he was “over his own girlfriend not giving a shit”, he began to collect his belongings from the house, seeming to have woken her for no other purpose than a dramatic exit.

“Xander, I do give a shit. Of course, I do. It’s just really hard when you don’t trust me, I don’t know what to do anymore or what you even want me to do.” He wouldn’t even look at her, standing with his arms crossed and gaze set on the floor like a petulant toddler.

“Our relationship has always been rocky because you refused to commit fully.”

Y/N had taken a deep breath and counted to ten at this. He was referring to her not wanting to move in with him when he had first asked her. She had been twenty at the time and felt like she was too young to be moving out, still comfortable living off her parents’ backs for the time being. He had insisted she move to his dingy apartment shared with two of his mates, and they’d almost broken up when Y/N had refused, claiming his apartment at the time was too far from work and her own home.

It was only a year later when they compromised, Y/N picking an apartment close to the bookstore and her parents’ house that Xander could also move into, but he was never happy about it, claiming she wasn’t as serious about their relationship as he was, which looking back may have been true.

“We’ve had this fight a million times, Xander. I’m not entertaining it anymore. I love you, and I want you to feel happy and comfortable in our relationship, but if you can’t do that, no matter how many hoops I jump through, then I can’t help you anymore.”

Xander screwed his nose up, “hoops? What,” he mimics quotation marks in the air, “hoops are you jumping though.”

Anger began to froth through Y/N’s veins, desperate to explode from her mouth, and she swallows, tasting the blood from her lip, broken from biting down so hard on it. “You’ve got to be fucking joking.” She seethed.

“I stopped going out for dinner with my girlfriends on Friday nights because you thought I was seeing another man. I’ve allowed you to view my location on our phones and even read through the messages with Mel’s boyfriend when he asked me what to get her for her birthday! Worst of all, I have this stupid fucking discussion at least once a month and constantly work to convince you I’m not going behind your back when I’ve never fucking done anything for you to lose any semblance of trust in me.”

After her outburst, she found herself gulping air in like fury had taken up all the space in her lungs that air would usually occupy. Xander did nothing but watch her, his beady and squinted eyes reminding her of a lion about to attack.

It was then his facial expression had changed, his eyebrows furrowing in grief, not in anger, his eyes slightly watering and his mouth pouting in a stiff display. “Go on, break up with me then.”

It would be around this time when Y/N would usually hug Xander and whisper in his ear how much she loved him and would never break up with him, but instead, she takes a deep breath and stands with her arms crossed, beginning to nod slowly. “I think that would probably be best, don’t you?”

Xanders face switches once more, the anger returning to his features, “what?” he spits.

“I think it would be best for us to break up,” she repeats calmly as if talking to a rabid dog about to bite her out of fear.

It was then that Xander had lost it, cursing and screaming as he gathered his phone and keys, spitting an “I’ll pick up my things tomorrow morning,” as he’d left. Y/n had immediately texted her parents asking if they could come over tomorrow while Xander collected his things, as she had work and fully knew that her mother scared Xander more than anyone else could.

They’d agreed, of course, and Y/N had spent the day working, feeling a lot more weightless than she had in a long time. She was sad of course; Xander was a huge part of her life. But she just couldn’t help but feel like he was a massive part of her life that had also been dragging her down.

For the first time in almost five years, Y/N was humming while working and smiling at every person she walked by, even if she’d come home and cry in the shower while looking at photos of her and her ex-boyfriend.

She guesses it was therapeutic, her own version of mourning a relationship she’d always wished was akin to novels. She supposed there were only so many ways to shove someone into a version you’d painted as ideal.

----

The bookstore had been quiet all day, so slow it felt like Y/N was getting paid to sit at the counter and read her favourite book rather than actually serve customers. Max had gone home an hour before, prompting her to “just close early if it stayed so quiet,” and Y/N was planning on doing just that.

She had only served two customers, one woman around her age, with striking red hair who was looking for a book by Murakami, and a man, with the most soulful and deep brown eyes she’d ever seen, who was interested in purchasing a novel from the ’50 Shades of Grey’ series.

Other than that, the store had remained quiet and still, a peaceful escape from Y/N’s busy life, allowing her to sit quietly with her own thoughts. These thoughts are only interrupted when a package arrives at the store. Boxes came quite frequently to the bookstore, it was nothing unusual, but the oddity with which this package was delivered garnered Y/N’s attention.

A delivery man walked through the front door, package in hand, not struggling to lift the weight of hundreds of books, instead carrying it easily in one gloved hand. The parcel was not taped and beaten up but wrapped carefully, with brown wrapping paper and rope looking string.

It smelled faintly of eucalyptus and lemon myrtle, and the strangest part of it all, it was addressed to her, not the shop or Max. Her name and the store’s address were scribbled on the front in scratchy and messy writing, faint lines running through most letters as if the author was in such a hurry they could barely manage time to lift their pen off the paper.

Y/N sits back down behind the desk, grabbing a pair of scissors slightly too small for her hand to be comfortable, and cutting the ribbon as well as along the seams of the box where tape holds it together.

Upon opening the box, she sees a book, not just any book, but ‘Love is a Mixtape by Rob Sheffield, and as she picks it up, she notices the edges are frayed, the pages slightly yellowed and the fresh book smell no longer present. When she opens the pages to get a closer look at the fading printed letters, a piece of paper folded in half falls out the bottom.

Opening up the letter, she sees it is written in the same hand as the address written on the box; however, the note is longer and personalised to her this time.

If a bookseller has not read this book, she’s not a real bookseller, but just in case.

I know you said you were taken, but I’d be kicking myself for the rest of my life if I didn’t at least leave my details with you. You don’t have to use them, but feel free to contact me if you ever need anything, even if it’s just for a chat.

-H xx

She moves her thumb, noticing it was covering more writing, and her heart stops when she realises at the bottom of the page are a set of contact details. His phone and email to be more accurate.

Butterflies immediately erupt from her stomach, the feeling of her tummy churning making her feel sick as she realises who this is from. Harry.

She wouldn’t lie and say she hadn’t thought about him since their few odd meetings. In truth, he had continuously been popping up in her head over the last few months at the most random of times, but she’d always push it back down, clearing her throat and trying to focus on herself and whatever she was doing at that moment. Honestly, she didn’t want to give herself the false hope of imagining him as a romantic interest. She genuinely believed the night he’d come into the store would be the last time she’d ever see him, and the few other times she’d run into him, mere coincidences, bubble wrapped with Y/N’s own fear of getting attached to him and she supposes Harry’s own knowledge and respect of her partner.

But for this package to come after she’d broken up with her ex and was feeling so comfortable, it felt a little bit like fate. She rereads the note again and tries to tamp down the rising excitement forming, doing so easily with her own anxious thoughts.

What could she even say if she did message him?

Did she want this practical stranger to have her number or email?

Was she moving on too quickly from her ex-boyfriend?

Did she even want to start something new at the moment?

Y/N was overthinking; she knew she was. Instead, she takes a deep breath and counts to ten before grabbing the box with the book and note inside and putting it behind the counter with her bag.

It’s only an hour later when she makes up her mind, deciding she would be stupid not to message him. This surety came from a man walking in with the same curly hair and lanky but muscular build that Harry sported, her eyes briefly being tricked. She had laughed at herself, playing off the way her stomach dropped and her heart had begun pounding, before realising exactly what that meant.

Y/N took that as a sign.

She was clearly interested in Harry if the mere sight, scrap that, the potential sight of him was enough to send her into a frenzy. She quickly serves the Harry look-alike (who, upon further inspection, had hair that was a little shorter and lighter in colour than Harry’s, and whose face was nowhere near as handsome either, his nose a little smaller and his eyes not equipped with the same shine.)

Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she attempts to craft a message to send to the handsome man, but nothing seems to come to her. Everything was either too formal or not formal enough, and she’s briefly brought back to how easy her ex-boyfriend had come to be her partner. He had messaged her the night after they had kissed at the bonfire, asking her if she’d like to go out for dinner at the diner near her house.

Thinking back, she can’t recall the feeling of ants crawling through her tummy at his message, not the way she feels them now. Currently, she feels as if she were to let her thoughts run wild; the ants would crawl up her throat and into her mouth, leaving a trail of fire and tingling through her veins.

“Hello Harry, it’s Y/N.” She erases that almost immediately.

“Harry… it’s the best bookseller you’ve ever known, Y/N.” Doesn’t quite feel right either.

She slowly but surely crafts a message, humming and ahhing at each punctuation mark and wording choice. Nothing feels right, but she honestly doesn’t know if anything she writes ever will. What would that even feel like when Harry was involved? She honestly wouldn’t know.

Eventually, she has a small paragraph written out that she supposes will do.

“Hey Harry, it’s Y/N from the bookstore. I’m not sure if you remember me. I just wanted to thank you for sending the book; I hope you enjoyed it. I can’t wait to read it! Maybe I’m not a real bookseller... but I’m working on it! Got promoted a few weeks ago and am now managing the store, so fingers crossed, I’m on my way up there. Hope you’re doing well x”

Her painted thumbnail hovers over the send button before she backspaces slightly, changing the kiss at the end to a smiley face instead. She didn’t want to come on too forward. God knows what he was expecting her to send to him.

She counts down from 10 before pressing send, immediately locking her phone and tucking it into her bag, hoping if she pretends she hasn’t sent it, the anxiety from doing so wouldn’t eat her alive while she works.

Although, it doesn’t quite work. She spent the rest of her shift thinking of the reply she would get if she even would receive one and then what she would say back. She thinks of every negative possibility while she sweeps, having to calm the blush from her nonexistent embarrassment as she imagines he types back, “sorry, who is this?”

While she organises the new shipment of cooking books they just got in, she imagines how fast her heart would beat if he were to reply and admit his love to her in his first message.

A customer chatting her ear off lends her to get lost in a daze of what she’d reply if he asked if she had any other recommendations for him to read.

She spends the rest of her shift like this, losing her own mind in swirls of her imagination, each one a little scarier and more daring than the rest. On her drive home, she briefly wonders if she’d rather he didn’t reply at all to save her the anxiety of forming a reply back to him.

It’s only when she’s getting out of the shower that night, does she hear her phone vibrate with the telltale sound of her text tone. While the shower had allowed her to relish in a state of complete and utter relaxation while she stood under the steaming jets of water, her phone’s ringtone immediately spikes her anxiety, the calming effects that had allowed her heart to slow and breathing to even, completely reversed.

Standing in front of her bed in just a towel, Y/N checks her phone.

“Of course I remember you, Y/N. You’re tough to forget.” Y/N briefly pauses, taking time to roll her eyes at the corny gesture that somehow still forces butterflies to run riot within her stomach.

“I do apologise for the note; I know you’re dating someone. I just wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I never tried one more time.

Look at you! I’m proud of you; it sounds like things are going well for you. I’m glad to hear it. x I am doing well thanks, have just changed schools (I’m a lecturer at a uni, don’t know if I ever mentioned it) and am loving it. Teachers are a lot nicer, and students tend to listen to me more, could be a coincidence, though…”

Thinking about it, the job fit Harry perfectly. From their brief interaction, Y/N could tell he was intelligent, particularly around books- she wonders if he was an English lecturer?

He had the type of tone and draw to garner attention from a whole room, and she could imagine he would be the lecturer everyone was secretly pining over during class. She laughs slightly at his noting of students paying more attention to him, thinking that if she were a student in his class, she’d be all ears (and eyes, for that matter.)

She continues reading, “please, let me know what you think of the book, and if you love it as much as I do. I look forward to hearing from you again. x” Y/N can’t help but let her eye linger on the kiss he’d left after his message, notably when she’d specifically omitted the same thing from her own one. Allowing herself a brief moment to think about what that meant, Y/N shuns it from her mind. She wouldn’t allow herself to get caught up in such trivial things if it really meant nothing.

Quickly getting dressed, Y/N begins writing a reply.

“You’re cheesy. But wow, honestly, I could’ve guessed that the job suits you perfectly. What do you teach?” Biting on her thumb, Y/N thinks of how she could tell him she had already read the book, second hand and all after he’d come in asking for it, too intrigued in his wonderment of this specific book in its used state, to not. She supposes she could reread his version. What did he say about being able to experience someone else who had read the same book or summat? She decides not to tell him, choosing instead to take on board his philosophy. Maybe it would be different reading it after he, specifically, had.

“I can’t wait to read it. Thank you again for sending it. You really didn’t have to! I guess I should also tell you, I don’t have a partner anymore.” Preparing to hit send, she pauses. She hadn’t been without a partner in a long time, and she wasn’t all that comfortable being single just yet.

While she felt ready to jump into something with Harry, she’s aware this may be her squashing the grief of her past relationship and trying to move on, which she also knows isn’t the healthiest way to cope. She deletes the last part of the message and clicks send.

----

Harry was never one to use his phone much. If he was candid, he could probably throw the thing out and not even realise (apart from missing the odd phone call with his mum, of course). But this week was different.

He found himself needing to have the device near in case Y/N replied. Constantly he heard buzzes and chimes, but when he checked his phone, they proved to be nonexistent. Harry would always be picking up the thing, finding himself staring at the screen, waiting for something to pop up. It was so unlike him, so exasperating.

Even during his lectures, in which usually he would approach his classes with a laser focus, if a vibration was heard from his mobile, his attention would be instantly drawn away, causing him to stutter more frequently, to lose his train of thought, to one time (embarrassingly so) say her name in the middle of a sentence while talking about Orwell’s, ‘1984.’ Harry was a man possessed, and he had no cause to stop it. It seemed the only way to cure his bumbling brain was if she replied to him, which, if you were to ask Harry, didn’t happen nearly frequently enough.

Each scrap of information he received from her may as well have been liquid gold, he would pore over, comparing it to his own experiences and wishes, finding that while they were very similar, they were also very different.

Harry found out she had worked at the bookstore for most of her teenage years and was extremely close with the owner.

After asking about her favourite movies, he discovered she loved horror and romance but hated Disney, while he hated horror and couldn’t say no to watching ‘Bambi.’

They both loved falafels, but hated tomatoes and both loved reading.

Most importantly, after discussing how she’d met her partner around a shitty bonfire, surrounded by shitty music, after sharing a shitty kiss, Harry discovered something that made his heart sing.

Y/N and her boyfriend were no longer dating.

He can tell she was nervous about sharing the information, tacking a “by the way, my boyfriend and I broke up a few months ago,” on the end of a message after agreeing with Harry that no one should be forced to kiss while smoke billowed through their hair and seeped into their eyes.

Harry had hardly believed his eyes and watched as the three dots indicating she was typing popped up and disappeared at least three times as he took in the information. They weren’t dating, and she was messaging him. Did this mean what he thought it did?

He makes a split decision, pressing the call button and holding the phone to his ear, each irritating trill of the dial tone poking the wound he was scared would open if she didn’t answer.

Eventually, he heard her melodic voice sing through the phone, a shy “hello?” raising at the end in question.

“Hi, thought I’d call to celebrate because I just heard the best news! You’ll never guess what it is.”

He hears her cackle through the phone, a sound he honestly didn’t know he was missing until he heard it again, before a groan sounds from the receiver, “you are so fucking dramatic.”

“Well, pet, what did you expect me to do? You’ve kept this crucial bit of information from me, and now I have no choice but to celebrate with champagne and balloons.” The conversation is replaced with silence, and Harry knows full well she’s preparing to explain herself. In all honesty, she didn’t need to. He heard that she dated her ex for a long time; he can’t blame her for being scared of something new.

“I’m sorry I kept it from you. I just- I don’t know, I didn’t know how to handle the situation, I’m not all that familiar with being single.”

Harry can’t help the smile that creeps upon his face, “you don’t need to apologise for a thing, Y/N. I understand. Doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate, though, does it?”

She laughs again, “no, I guess it doesn’t.”

----

It had been a funny few months, funny in the way that Y/N wouldn’t have expected it. If she had thought her mood had increased tenfold since breaking up with her ex, well, now it had grown far beyond that. She had noticed it in almost every aspect of her life, and she guesses it was due to just being genuinely happy.

Rather than counting down the minutes until the end of her shift, she would happen upon it, sometimes even accidentally working fifteen minutes past closing, too wrapped up in singing and dusting shelves.

She was calling her parents willingly and asking old friends to catch up, reforming connections she hadn’t realised were severed.

Her book club even noticed a change, with her coming to their meetings with enough enthusiasm for the whole class, ready to discuss the key themes and characters she’d already had the liberty of discussing with Harry. She even started annotating and highlighting her books.

And the most significant change of all, Harry had started to visit her at work. It had started as him just coming in to browse books (which she knows was a lie, the pompous, ‘has to be second hand’ bastard) that also led to them sitting down, tea in hand and discussing the intricacies of Shakespeare’s work, but had quickly become a routine. Harry would visit at least twice a week, each time with a different pastry in hand or a cup of tea for Y/N to sip on, and each time he would bug her, questioning if she had finally started reading the book he had sent her.

She was busy finishing a different series, which according to Harry, was exasperatingly long. Still, she was determined to finish it, even if it meant listening to Harry whining (which perhaps she secretly enjoyed.)

Today was no different, apart from the fact that when Harry had waltzed through the door, almond croissant in one hand and tea in the other, Y/N was sitting, with her head stuck in the book he had gifted to her.

“Do my eyes deceive me? Have I been tricked again?”

Y/N looks up, rolling her eyes at his antics, trying to keep the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth at bay, “fuck off, Harry.”

He acts surprised, his mouth dropping in faux shock, “is that any way to treat the very handsome man who brought you breakfast?”

Y/N’s eyes immediately widen, and her attitude changes entirely while she makes grabby hands at the bag in his grip, “Harry, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He continues to hold the bag out of her reach, cocking his head and ear towards her as if expecting more. “And you’re very handsome.” Immediately he drops the bag into her still outreached hands, enjoying the way she immediately tears it open and rips the croissant in two, handing him the other half without thinking.

“So, you’ve really started reading it, hm? Thoughts?”

If she was honest, she’d only read the first few pages, the most notable of Harry’s annotations was a tick or cross next to the songs in the playlist on the first page- which she can assume represented songs Harry both liked and disliked and one highlighted line, “you know what I’m doing- just follow along!”

“It’s good so far.” She knows it gets better in the middle, but she wouldn’t tell Harry that.

“Yeh gets better in the middle, to be honest. What do you think about my notes?” She laughs, a mouth full of croissant, meaning a few crumbs fall from her lips, quickly swallowing she responds, “very cute.”

Harry smiles and tries to hide the slight blush forming on the top of his cheekbones, taking another bite of croissant and fiddling with the same cup of pens he did the first time he came here.

It’s then that Max walks out from the back, instantly spotting the flushed man standing in front of the counter, “Harry! How are you?”

While Harry had become comfortable in the little store Y/N worked at, he’d become even more familiar with the old man who owned it, knowing full well he was something akin to a father figure to Y/N, evident in the suspicious brow and line of questioning he had received the first time he’d met him. It was apparent by the big hug he received from Max that he whittled his way into the old man’s heart, just like Harry seemed to be able to do to anyone he met. “I’m good, Max! How are you?”

Max grumbles along, something about his daughter visiting that night before he turns to look back at Y/N and then Harry, “you’re not distracting her too much, are you?”

Y/N shrinks at how Harry looks at her, his eyes an adoring green and smile bright and genuine. “I’d never. Although I do have to leave for class, so you can have her full attention again.” He winks, picking up his bag and giving Max another hug goodbye.

Y/N finds herself staring at the door and watching out the windows as he leaves, still finding herself drawn to the last place she saw him and feeling a longing deep in her chest like she wished he had never left.

She picks up her book, blatantly ignoring the stare coming from Max, which she knows if she were to look, would resemble that of a stare from a knowing father. He doesn’t quite let her get away with that, coming and standing directly in front of the desk and leaning so he’s right in her line of vision. “He’s a good boy.” Y/N attempts to hold back the smile tugging at her cheeks, “yeah, I know.” She makes eye contact with the man standing in front of her quickly before bringing the book up higher once more, primarily to hide the evident flush spreading across her skin.

Once again, this doesn’t quite cut it, Max letting out a scoff before placing his fingers on the top of the spine of the book and pushing it down so he can see her face once more. “He’s a good guy who clearly likes you, Y/N. I know your relationship with Xander has scarred you a bit, but please believe me when I say, people can still be good. You just have to let them show you they can be.”

Y/N feels her cheeks heating up further, but not due to her embarrassment. It was the type of flush that sits right behind your eyes, that you feel streaming down your face like it’s creating a trail for the tears about to fall to reach the ground safely.

Her silence is met with Max’s warming presence as he lifts the book closer to her face once more, “Our lives were just beginning, our favourite moment was right now, our favourite songs were unwritten.”

She instantly recognises the quote from the book she was holding and looks up at Max, slowly nodding. She knew what he was trying to say, knew he was trying to convey his own wisdom from past mistakes and tell her that it was okay to move on, to trust again.

She guesses that deep down, she already knew that, but how could she move on? Xander was a huge part of her life. They had spent so long together that it was as if she hadn’t been a woman and loved anyone else. Her growth had occurred alongside his; her life and circumstances had changed, keeping him in the middle of her circle while everything else spread outwards. It felt as if she had shed a million layers, and no matter how quickly she did so, he was stuck to her skin like glue.

Scrubbing at her arms in the shower didn’t get rid of him, drinking didn’t get rid of him, distracting herself with work didn’t get rid of him. The only thing that silenced his nagging voice in the back of her mind was Harry, and she couldn’t tell if it was because she was so enamoured by him in general or if she enjoyed spending time with him so much her brain filtered out all the useless sediment floating at the top, like Xander.

Either way, Max was right. She had tried so hard to move on from Xander by completely distracting herself from thinking about him that she hadn’t realised she was mucking the mess he’d left from the bottom of her shoes, everywhere she went.

She looks down at the book in her hands, flicking through the pages randomly and feels an immense sense of warmth flow through her, the scrawled writing, underlined words and marked pages allowing her to breathe deeply and calmly. She knew it was silly, but it was almost like she could feel Harry’s presence through the pages, hear his voice reading the quotes aloud in silly voices and then jokingly asking her what was funny when she laughed.

He was surrounding her, and that didn’t feel suffocating for the first time in her life, only comforting.

----

Y/N had delved into ‘Love is a Mixtape’, finding herself in the familiar territory of reading where the outside world was nonexistent, only the words on the pages surrounding her, every other word lining up with her heartbeat.

“Any thought I had boom boom, of not falling in love with her boom boom, had went down in some serious towering inferno flames boom boom. It was over. I was over.”

Each highlighted word or scribbled note left her breathless for a second before her body took over the natural rhythm her mind had forgotten to follow through with. She was lost, hopeless, only able to focus on the pages in front of her- which she’ll admit was probably not ideal considering she was working. Each customer she attended to only served as a distraction to the story she wished to delve back into, and she found herself acting ditsy and vague like she was drunk.

Her stupor is interrupted only by the sound of her phone vibrating against the wooden desk, replaced only with the hope of a lover, desperate to hear from her partner- in this case, Harry, her (what she wishes) soon to be partner. Instead, the jumble of numbers she didn’t recognise lets the feeling sink through her tummy and down to her toes as she registers the vague message from someone she didn’t know.

“Hey.” She stands perplexed for a moment, looking down at the device. Who could this possibly be? There wasn’t anyone she could think of that wouldn’t already have her number (or a better means to contact her with) that would have sent this. Perhaps it was a wrong number?

“It’s Xander.” Y/N feels every good feeling Harry had dredged up over the past few weeks, leaving her system entirely, the heavy scent of dread filling her nose and scouring through her veins to replace them. She’s about to delete the message and lock the phone when another message causes a buzz to shoot through her hand.

“Do you have my dad’s watch? I think I left it at your place last, and now I can’t find it.” Y/N pauses for a second. There’s a real chance it’s somewhere in her apartment, but where she has no clue. She remembers the piece, a beautiful brown leather band, with a black face, accented with a gold rim and hands- if the roles were reversed, she would want Xander to look for it. She knew how much it meant to him. She just needs to find the strength to message him back. Feeling her hands shaking as she clicks in the text box, she takes a deep breath, counting to ten. “Hey, I’m not sure. I’ll see if I can find it tonight after work.”

“Alright, I’ll come pick it up whenever.” As the conversation had progressed, Y/N’s initial terror had slightly dissipated, but at the sight of the most recent message, it skyrocketed again. She didn’t want to see him, didn’t want the pain of looking at the face she’d loved and been let down by so close to her again. How was she to know how he’d react? The last time they spoke, he was aggressive and hostile, and Y/N didn’t want to deal with that again.

She feels the panic rising from her feet, seeping through her veins and into her pores, till it felt as if every hair was standing on end. Taking a deep breath, Y/N counts to ten, waiting for the soothing feeling of calmness to overcome her, but it doesn’t. The panic only rises.

Was she being dramatic? Yes. Did she have cause to care? No. Hell, she might not even have the stupid watch, but she wasn’t about to shame herself for feeling fear and unease around a subject that had certainly made her feel like that in the past. Instead, she sits down and grabs the book Harry had given her, skimming over paragraphs, imagining it was his soothing voice reading it to her instead. A chunk of highlighted text and the notes scribbled next to it catches Y/N’s attention, and she pauses to read the words.

“It’s the same with people who say, ‘Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’ Even people who say this must realise that the exact opposite is true.” And next to it, Harry’s addition, the words turning upwards and being squished by the end of the page. “It’s bullshit. You’re allowed to be hurt by the past.”

Y/N can hardly control the tears welling at the corners of her eyes, spilling out and down her cheeks, the saltiness on her lips bringing her fingers to fiddle with her mouth. God, it was like he knew, there’s no way he could, but it was easier than ever to hear his British drawl speaking to her, to hear him telling her that it was okay that she felt the way she did. It’s only by imagining him next to her does she begin to feel the panic recede, practically feeling it ebb off her brain and down her face.

Taking a deep breath, she closes the book, deciding that tonight she would look for the watch, and if she found it, she would be ready to face Xander. She was a mature adult, and so was he. She could do this.

Her phone buzzes against the desk once more, but this time, the message only brings a smile to her face and a comforting feeling to settle in her lungs.

“So I know you’re a grinch who hates Disney, but I feel like you’ll actually like ‘Soul.’ You free tomorrow to watch it?”

The door rings at the front, signalling the entrance of someone into the store. Y/N quickly wipes away the water from her face and sends a quick reply before giving the customer her signature greeting.

“God, when will you give up on the Disney thing? This is your last chance, loser. Come to mine at 7.”

——

Y/N had never felt an attachment to items. Why would she? She’d spent her whole life pouring over words, finding meaning within paragraphs and filling voids in their spaces. She preferred memories, hearing whispers of songs and feeling brushes of emotion from better days. The only items she bothered tethering to were her books, in which it wasn’t the object itself, but the stories that had wormed its way into her imagination, characters that seemed so real, half the time Y/N had to reach her hand out and ensure she would not feel their silky skin against her fingertips.

But when she felt the shock of Xanders watch in her fingertips as she reached between her bedside table and mattress, Y/N felt the same swell of feeling she does when reading her favourite story. Only this time, she isn’t flushed with excitement or interest but dread.

All at once, Y/N felt every emotion she had forced down, pin pricking into her skin, every pore splitting with ink, spelling out ‘Xander, Xander, Xander’ sketched red and hot on every spare inch of skin.

Whether Y/N liked it or not, Xander had scarred her. She felt it every time she went into the kitchen, remembering the time he had thrown the freshly baked muffins Y/N had made against the wall in fury after he’d discovered Y/N had been alone with Max’s son in the store for longer than an hour.

She felt it each time she stepped into her room, remembering all the tears she had shed tucked into her bed, every door slam and screamed threat.

Y/N felt it in the bathroom, in the laundry, sitting on the couch watching her favourite show. Every memory she had was stained with Xander, and she couldn’t remember what it felt like for her hands not to be soiled with his very presence. It felt as if her fingers were dipped in paint, and each time she touched something, another part of him would be smeared all over it.

She remembers what Max had told her in the book store, what he had insinuated when he quoted the same book Harry had left her. It felt as if Y/N hadn’t realised how lowly Xander had made her feel until she realised how happy Harry himself made her. It wasn’t even the way she felt by Harry’s words or presence; it was as if she was a different person, someone so much happier and content with who she was and how she lived her life.

Maybe it was due to her finally being surrounded by only good. She couldn’t help but thrive while being constantly watered and nurtured- it’s now she wonders how much of her growth was stunted by Xanders presence.

All at once, she feels her eyes well up with tears, the hot burning trace of them leaving her sight blurred. She feels them stream down her face, each drop a symbol of Xanders words and toxicity leaving Y/N’s overwhelmed brain. She was so sick of the back and forth, of feeling confident and fearless one minute and the next the mere touch of an item of Xanders bringing her hurtling back to earth.

Picking up the watch, she walks back to the couch, sinking down into the soft pillows she’d so often found comfort in. On the table, Harry’s book sits, the cover worn and slightly bent in two of its corners, containing all the words she wishes he’d say to her in real life.

Instead, she settles for the alternative, reading his chicken scrawl along the binds and paragraph breaks. Rubbing the edge of the watch, Y/N picks up the book and begins to read, slowly feeling her eyes dry up and her skin return to her normal appearance rather than the flushed and blotchy pattern she assumes it was 15 minutes ago.

Each word written by Harry brings her a sense of comfort, little funny comments and anecdotes being added to random phrases and words, some highlighted with a yellow marker that is sometimes mixed with the blank ink of the words creating an ugly brown. He switches between a blue pen that seems to run out of ink, the letters becoming blotted with the colour of the page beneath them until the words become written in black instead.

It’s around this point that Y/N sees a specific paragraph highlighted that causes tears to well in her eyes once more and her breath to stop for a second.

“Some people aren’t worth the trouble of being kind to, because they have neither the brains nor the power to make something for themselves out of your kindness.”

Instantly her mind travels to Xander, the very person she’d spent years of her life dedicating her kindness to, only to get the complete opposite in return, and she’s left shocked, staring at the page and pursing her lips for a second.

She thinks of when Harry had mailed the book to her, way before he’d even known she’d broken up with Xander, way before he’d even known the circumstances of her relationship with him in general. She doesn’t know if Harry had some third sense of how she felt, or if he just happened to relate to the exact quotes as Y/N seemed to, but it was as if he’d reached into her brain, taken the memories latching on to her for dear life, and wrote each note and highlighted section as if directly speaking on them.

It was as if Harry had known her better than she’d known herself at the time, and all at once, the comfort the book brought her seemed to triple its calming effect.

She puts the book back down on the coffee table in front of her, leaning her head back on the cushions behind her and taking a moment to close her eyes and breath deeply. Bringing her hands up to her eyes, she rubs lightly at the still swollen and sensitive skin there, feeling its puffiness and wondering how long it would last. For Y/N, crying didn’t happen often, but when it did, it felt more like an ordeal, as if all of the tears had been filling up this cup inside of her drop by drop until it finally overflowed, all the liquid within it pouring out at once.

A knock at the door brings Y/N out of her stupor, and she stands up quickly, checking her reflection in the shiny border of a picture frame hung on the wall in the hallway, quickly deciding nothing she could do in the five seconds she was walking to the front door would change her appearance drastically.

Instead, she smooths the few flyaway hairs that had spread around her face and rubs underneath her eyes once more before opening the door, shocked to find Harry himself standing before her. He brings his hands up in front of his face, showing a few books in his left hand and a bag of mixed sweets in his right.

(Y/N briefly remembers mentioning her love for these, explaining how they brought a sense of nostalgia to her, remembering years of her grandma offering her these each time she went to her house, giving her a handful behind her mother’s back with a quick wink. They’d become her favourite then, and it was only solidified when Max, who was basically her grandfather anyway, brought them into work, the snack pushing her through many a shift through her teenage years.)

Upon looking at Y/N’s swollen and tear-stained face, Harry’s hands drop, a pout gracing his lips instead of the cheeky grin that they had previously been set in. “Oh bunny, what’s happened?”

Y/N spends the next half hour explaining what had happened; from the text from Xander to her crying on the couch reading his book, she shyly recalls how she felt reading his commentary. She takes a moment to enjoy the gentle flush that forms along the ridges of his cheeks as she mentions how grateful she was for it and how it often felt as if he could read her mind.

From their position on the couch, Y/N can feel Harry’s heat beside her, the gentle scent of his cologne ringing through her nostrils. When she feels tears well in her eyes once more, Harry’s arms grab her and pull her into his chest. For a moment, Y/N pauses but quickly lets herself sink into the feeling of his sturdy chest beneath her, allowing a few extra tears to shed before she sniffs and counts to ten, breathing in deeply. She doesn’t move away, though, finding Harry’s strong arms around her, a presence she missed without ever feeling it properly.

The gentle curve of his shoulder and slightly jutting feeling of his collarbone holds her head up. She realises her lips are mere inches from Harry’s neck, his cologne, clearly sprayed against his pulse point, is even stronger here, and Y/N has to stop herself from inhaling the scent deeper to source its familiar and comforting essence.

They had been quiet for a while, Harry giving her the comfort she needed while still allowing her the space to think and breathe, but Y/N breaks the silence, whispering a quiet “thank you,” her lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his throat. If they weren’t so close, Y/N would’ve definitely missed the gentle hitch in his typical pattern of breathing, and if his arm wasn’t wrapped around her and resting comfortably against her hip, she would’ve missed the rows of goosebumps rising from his inked skin.

She sits silently, instead resting in the knowledge of the effect she had on him, not willing to break the pleasant aura they’d surrounded themselves in by pointing it out. Instead, she listens to him swallow and clear his throat gently, his voice coming out slightly hollow, “let’s read for a bit, hm? I bought a copy of ‘Pride and Prejudice,’ could go with that?”

Harry feels Y/N’s head shake against him, the baby hairs framing her face that she so often tried to brush down tickling his neck, causing the goosebumps he’d just spent two minutes willing away to rise again. Y/N’s voice comes out hoarse, “can you read ‘Love is a Mix-tape,’ please?”

“Sure,” he whispers back to match her tone. Leaning forward, he pulls Y/N tighter against him to keep her against his chest and grabs the book, settling back against the pillows behind him. With a gentle sigh, he opens the book up from where she’d dog-eared one of the pages, choosing to let that fact go due to the tears currently sitting behind her eyes, unwilling to trigger anymore and begins to read instead.

Y/N relaxes further into him, enjoying the gentle intonation of his voice, the way his mouth skewed some sentences into his usual accent and the way he’d lick his lips and clear his throat each time he needed to turn the page.

Harry feels Y/N sigh against him every so often, trying to keep his voice quiet and smooth as to relax her, enjoying the way her arm rested against his stomach, gently tracing the butterfly that was just visible under the slightly sheer fabric of his white shirt. It feels so good, but Harry almost wishes she’d stop, the tickling sensation against such a sensitive part of him causing a pit to form in the bottom of his belly, each stroke of her nail sending a brief shock to his inner thighs, shocks he has to fight himself not to act on. He wasn’t going to take advantage of her when she was so vulnerable and fragile, he wanted so badly to be with her, but he’d rather wait a million years than act on his wishes at a time like this.

Instead, he takes a few deep breaths and imagines his grandma or his childhood dog while he reads, barely noticing her reaction to his words until he hears a sniffle and then a choked sob from her. He becomes alert then, rereading the paragraph he’d just read in his head, trying to figure out what exactly had triggered her before he finds it; he’d even highlighted it. He briefly wonders if he did have some sort of cosmic connection to her. It seemed each word that impacted her, he’d highlighted, adding either a serious piece of commentary or a joke to lighten what he’d thought may have been too heavy.

“Tonight, I feel like my whole body is made out of memories. I’m a mix-tape, a cassette that’s been rewound so many times you can hear the fingerprints smudged on the tape.”

And underneath it, his note,

“Do you ever feel like you’re livin in the past? Feel like sometimes I need to wipe those fingerprints off and move on.”

He quickly puts down the book beside him, reaching down to draw Y/N out from his chest, where she’d somehow buried her face deeper so he couldn’t see it. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear and uses the bottom of his shirt to wipe away the tears falling past her cheeks and dripping down her neck. He’s silent, only speaking when she braves looking into his eyes, a sniffle jerking her shoulders up gently.

“It’s okay to move on Y/N. It’s okay to wipe those fingerprints and move on.”

He watches her bottom lip tremble, and she nods, this time wiping her tears away with her sleeve, long enough that it’s tucked over her hand. “I know, I’m just scared, I think. Scared to let go of him, even if he was a dick. Guess if I let him go, I’m letting myself move into a completely new stage in my life, one I’m really unfamiliar with. It’s just all so scary.”

He nods along, gently brushing his thumb against the soft skin of her temple. He briefly tries to draw a quote from the back of his mind, one from ‘Love is a Mix-tape’ or maybe even something, Murakami before he decides against it. While Y/N loved books, Harry’s not sure that’s what she needed at the moment, thinking maybe she just needed confirmation that he was there with no influence from books, empathised with her and was willing to provide comfort in whatever form she needed. Instead, he continues to brush her temple, chewing on his lip slightly while he thinks of how best to say exactly what he was feeling.

“No ones saying it’s not scary, it’s bloody terrifying, no one can blame you for thinkin’ that. I think you need to believe you’re stronger than you think, and while you may believe he formed this huge part of your personality, which I don’t know, sure he may have formed part of it, you’re amazing on your own.”

He pauses to scratch the back of his neck, now not too keen on looking her in the eye while he speaks.

“I saw it the first day I came into the bookstore, you may think you’ve changed a lot, but who you are, you’re calmness and stubbornness, you’re cackle laugh, and you’re nervous ticks, your sense of humour and love of all things books, it was all there before, and it still is now. He might have been a huge part of your life, but you are your own person. Whether he impacted that or not, you’re still you, and everyone loves you for those parts, not the ones that were stained by him.”

It’s Y/N now that pulls Harry’s head up from his chest, her hand cupping underneath his chin, and then bringing it down to his neck when he focuses his gaze on her. She leans forward and presses her lips against his gently, feeling him quickly push back against her, moving slowly and calmly against her, even if the turmoil in his stomach told him to do anything but.

Her lips still tremble slightly beneath his, and he can’t help comparing her to something akin to a baby deer, so fragile and perhaps a little bit broken but still so sweet and willing to trust the world around her, even though it had consistently proved it didn’t have her back. He admired her strength and ability to feel the pain and look inside it, acknowledge why it was occurring and breathe through it.

Harry feels electricity flow through him as he realises he’s finally kissing her, finally feeling her pressed against him in the same way he had imagined so many times before. He’d imagined it the moment he’d walked through the door of the bookstore, the second he’d seen her doe-like eyes staring at him as he pretended he knew exactly what he was looking for on the shelves before him, the way her cheeks had turned a completely different shade as he’d caught her staring.

He realised for him, it had always been her. While he was reading and annotating a book about love, she was the only person he could think of. Once he’d sent off the package, he thought every day of what her reaction would be when she received it. He imagined her reading the exact words he had and her mulling over things he’d written down, wondering if she’d agree with them or not.

He could hardly contain the butterflies in his tummy each time he received a message from her, so keen to see exactly what she’d written just for him.

He was smitten from the moment he saw her, and his feelings had only grown, mutating and twisting into the all-consuming feeling flowing through him now.

Harry’s the one who pulls back first, opening his eyes to see Y/N in front of him, brow slightly furrowed as she blinks her eyes open, confused as to why he had stopped their kiss before it actually led anywhere.

His crooked smile and a quick thumb brushing over her forehead caused the creases to smooth out, quickly becoming more concerned with how good looking he really was and how quickly she could kiss him again, this time in a more intense manner. Instead, he presses one long kiss against her, pulling back before she could open up further and pulls her towards him once more, hugging her while tucking her head into the crook between his neck and shoulder.

“I wanna do this, just maybe not tonight.”

Y/N nods, understanding what he meant. Even if it was the complete opposite of what she felt right now, she understands it may not be the best decision for her to make when she’s in such a vulnerable position emotionally. Instead, she decides she’ll enjoy the feeling of being pressed against Harry this way and the tickling feeling of his fingers rubbing up and down her back, each downstroke getting closer to her ass, sending a million lightning bolts springing through every nerve ending.

Y/N feels herself slowly drifting off, jerking back awake at every unexpected sound every few minutes until Harry’s heartbeat finally lulls her to sleep, and she’s pulled under the waves of exhaustion from the day.

——

When Y/N wakes, it’s with a start, the sharp trill of her phone piercing her eardrums, causing a deep groan to leave her chest as she feels blindly for it on the table behind her, much too comfortable with her head still tucked into Harry’s neck and flush against him.

Finally giving in, she opens her eyes, glancing slightly above her to see Harry still asleep, some of his hair flopping in front of his eyes and each deep breath he lets in filling his chest before releasing a steady stream of air out of his nose. He looked handsome, even without his award-winning grin and dimple combination adorning his face.

Another ring from her phone breaks her attention away from him, and she quickly finds it, fallen off the table and half-tucked under the couch they were currently on. Without even looking, she clicks the green answer button and lifts the phone to her ear, mumbling a quiet “hello,” while rubbing her face, her voice thick with slumber.

The voice on the other end wakes her up entirely, along with sending a shiver down her spine. “Y/N? Were you asleep? It’s only 10?”

“Uhh, Xander… hi. I- yeh, I must’ve fallen asleep on the couch.” She tried to even out her voice, feeling the distinct voice of panicking trying to scream into her ear, but she was tamping it down, trying desperately not to let it win out. She was safe. He wasn’t her partner anymore, she was in Harry’s arms, and there was nothing Xander could do.

God, she couldn’t remember ever feeling so comfortable with someone so quickly. Looking back down at Harry, she can see him blinking awake slowly like he was fighting to stay beneath the surface of consciousness but losing the battle. She felt so strongly for him already. Looking at him brought the same giddiness as looking at a new puppy, all excitement and freshness, forcing herself not to squeeze him right then and there.

Instead, she smiles down at him as he meets her eye, quickly returning the sentiment, before yawning while stretching, causing his shirt to be pulled up beneath him, the hem being held down by Y/N’s tummy against his own, his arms raising above his head causing the stretch.

Y/N can briefly hear Xander still talking in her ear, but she’s much too distracted looking at Harry, who is currently checking the watch on his wrist, his eyebrows briefly raising in surprise as he takes in the time.

“Y/N! Y/N? Are you even listening to me?” She’s jolted back into reality, feeling as if she was flying above the clouds lost in Harry’s little world, before the sobering reality of Xander on the phone pulls her back down to earth.

She tries to reply, she really does, but Harry’s thumb brushing against her temple causes some type of silencing serum to rush through her veins, the movement causing her to get lost in his eyes, which are currently flitting over her face, the indents from the pillow they were sharing imprinted onto her forehead. He was enamoured.

While Xander had stirred up all sorts of turmoil in her tummy, Harry’s soothing touch worked to settle it.

“Y/N! For fucks sake, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Fuck- sorry. Um, what were you asking?” Y/N brings her hand, not holding the phone up to Harry’s wrist, stopping him from drawing his hand back, and he scoffs, moving instead to stroke along her jaw, massaging the notch before her ear gently.

“My watch? You said you’d look for it.”

Finally, for the first time, she realises understanding how little she really had been listening to him.

“Yeh, I found it.”

She hears him scoff on the other end of the phone, and while Harry has done so in amusement, it’s clear Xander is doing so in disbelief. “And you didn’t think to message me or?” He exclaims, drawing out the and saying it in such a sarcastic tone Y/N has to take a deep breath.

“I- I’m sorry.”

He answers with another scoff, “whatever, I’ll come pick it up now.” Before he can even finish his sentence, Y/N is interrupting, “no!”

At her panicked tone and the look in her eyes, Harry becomes more alert, his eyes reflecting some of the anxiety she was currently flashing at him. He takes both of his hands, brushing her hair behind her ears and doing his best to soothe her without actually knowing who or what was on the other side of the phone. “Are you okay?” He mouths at her, his concern causing a furrow to form in his brow, and Y/N hates it, hates seeing him so worried about her.

She nods, brushing him away gently before returning her attention back to Xander, who had yet to reply to her outburst, “uh no- Just send me your address, and I’ll send it to you.”

Y/N feels her bones strengthening with each word she states, feeling the courage seep through her veins like blood. Y/N had never been good at setting her boundaries, part of why she guesses Xander and herself had spent so long together. She imagines with Harry that she was learning slowly when to set them and how, better yet, to respect them. From the second he’d walked through the door, Y/N had rejected him, with her boyfriend in mind. The following few times she saw him, even if her boyfriend was no longer in the picture, she was forced to think of herself, look into exactly how she was feeling, how Harry contributed to that and what was best for her.

Better yet, he’d respected this. Understood when she withheld information because she wasn’t comfortable sharing it, comforted her when he felt she needed it and gave her space when she requested it. He wanted to know her before he knew she was single and wanted to learn everything she was willing to show him.

Y/N had never felt as powerful in the face as Xander as when she hung up on him, just as he was about to force her boundary, “what? No, I’ll just-.”

She throws the phone on the side of the couch, smiling at Harry despite the fear that had just previously filled her. The realisation of her own strength, her own courage, was enough to alleviate it, like a soothing wave of water atop a blazing fire.

Harry can feel and visibly see Y/N relax against him as she throws the phone, and he grabs her hands once more, lacing their fingers together. “Who was that?” When he feels her tense slightly again, he instantly understands that whoever was on the phone was not someone she was comfortable with and more than likely not comfortable discussing either. “Uh… just-,” he squeezes her hands lightly, “it’s okay. Don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” The way her face lights up tells Harry he did the right thing, and it’s only confirmed when she leans forward and presses her lips against his hastily.

Instantly he kisses her back, giggling at her haste, the sound dripping down Y/N’s throat and sinking into her belly, spreading like whiskey and warming her skin from the inside. She opens her mouth, silently begging for Harry to lick against her, and he does so immediately, nibbling gently at her lower lip before soothing the sting over with his tongue, meeting Y/N’s as she presses it against him.

Y/N feels herself shuffling forward, Harry’s hands coming to her waist, pulling one of her thighs over his lap, leaving her straddling him. Harry groans out as Y/N slips even further forward, the radiating heat of her crotch dragging over his semi-hard cock. Instinctively he grabs her hips, pulling her harder down against him and Y/N continues the movement, rolling her hips and whining when she feels him hardening even more beneath her.

Both had read of desire and pleasure, perhaps even felt it in their waking life too, but currently, Harry feels as if he’s about to burst. With each roll of Y/N’s hips, each hitched breath he hears in his ear, each suctioned kiss to his neck works him into a frenzy till he can hardly control it. His inner thighs burn with it, he can feel his cheeks flush, and a sweat works its way from his forehead down his temple. Harry’s throat closes over, and he is forced to pull Y/N off him the second she notices and licks at the sweat drop falling down his cheek. She wanted to taste every part of him, every drop of sweat, feel every pulse of his heart. She could hardly control herself around him.

She startles when he pulls her off him, bringing her hands up to his face, her brows drew together in worry immediately, “are you okay?”

He huffs, his laugh filled with self-deprivation and disbelief, “more than. Was about to cum, didn’t want to before I’ve even gotten a proper taste of you.”

She shudders above him, feeling the effect of his words travel straight from her ear down her spine to between her legs. He seems to notice, pressing against the front of her shorts with his hand and swallowing the moan she releases when she joins their lips once more. Sweeping his tongue across her jaw, he brushes his hands up and down her back, feeling the goosebumps pimple under her skin as he kisses down her neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there.

Y/N’s eyes roll to the back of her head, each sensation multiplied and more intense than ever. She feels herself grabbing at Harry’s shoulders, his hair, his neck, anything she could get her hands on as he kisses her skin, leaning her head back so he could have full access, being rewarded with a press of Harry’s hips up into her own. Gentle fingers feel at the hem of her pyjama shorts, sweeping along the soft skin of her tummy and snapping the elastic back against her skin, the action bringing a whine from deep within her throat.

“More,” she breathlessly begs, unable to add any strength behind her voice, too desperate for him to slip his fingers into her. He doesn’t hesitate to comply, pulling the hem back with his thumb and slipping the rest of his hand in, startling slightly when he’s not met with cotton but her silky skin immediately. His head falls back against the back of the couch, a groan erupting from his chest, “Jesus, are you tryin’ to kill me?”

She laughs, the sound a weak chuckle, taking the time to admire his strong jawline and tanned throat, the skin mottled with stubble just short enough that it still felt prickly to touch. Y/N looks down, watching the veins and muscles in his bicep and forearm bulging with the movements of his fingers within her, each time the movement corresponding with a jolt of pleasure as his ring and middle fingertips press against the spongy spot inside of her.

On their own volition, her hips begin to swivel, pressing down harder on each rotation. If Harry notices, he says nothing to it, only continues his own movements observing her with his eyes slightly squinted and his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek.

Tearing away from him suddenly, Y/N shuffles back, undoing the button of his pants and slowly bringing the zipper down, pausing to relish in the hiss Harry lets out above her at the sudden movement. Each inch exposes more of the material of his briefs and a bit more of his cock straining against it. Y/N could see the mouthwatering outline of him. Even without pulling his underwear down, she could tell he was thick and long, bigger than anything Y/N had ever experienced before.

Because Jesus Christ, of course, he was. She guesses he couldn’t very well go walking around like he does, with his perfect hair and perfect eyes. With his eccentric outfits and quirky sweaters, ranting on about books to anyone who would listen and too willing to offer his opinion on how disgusting he found coriander. He couldn’t go walking around with the biggest heart Y/N had ever seen and not back it up with what was in his pants. She’s yet to find a fault in him, something that would turn her away because so far, it all seemed too good to be true. He seemed too perfect, too suited to her.

Her mouth waters as he pulls his boxers down himself, probably fed up with her taking her time to do so herself, letting out a huff and a gentle whine. And god, if she thought he was perfect before, she didn’t know what to think now. He was big, just as she had predicted, his tip a gentle flushed red and glistening from the precum flowing steadily from it and a thick vein running right up the side. When she gets him in her hand, he’s stiff and warm, and Y/N almost cums just thinking about him inside her.

Pressing himself down, Harry quickly pulls the loose material of her shorts to the side and begins to rub the tip against her, his swollen head parting her lips and tapping at the sensitive skin of her clit. Each time he brings it closer to her hole and doesn’t go in, Y/N could almost scream, becoming more and more impatient with his teasing antics. If she couldn’t feel the puffs of breath spilling from his nostrils, Y/N would almost say he looked unbothered, his arms and shoulders relaxed and a pretty flush of pink sitting atop his cheekbones. The only visible sign against it was the clenching of his teeth, his jaw going tight each time he pushed his head a little bit further into her weeping cunt on the downstroke.

It’s when he finally enters her that Y/N cries out, the stretch sudden and brash, but she quickly feels her walls accommodating him, fluttering around his length in such a heavenly manner that Harry feels as if he could cum already. He takes a few deep breaths, rubbing his nose along her jawline before finding her lips again, using the soft touch to centre himself once more. She does the same, slipping her tongue against his while she fully adjusts, and it’s only when Harry feels her hips tilting back and forth slightly that he realises she’s desperate for him to give her the go-ahead to move or to very well thrust in her himself.

Instead, he grabs her hips, watching as his fingers indent slightly in the stretch-marked skin of her hips and pulls her back and forward, silently giving her his blessing. The way Y/N reacted was as if Harry had yelled it, immediately picking up her pace and swivelling her hips against him, groaning as she feels him so deep inside her it almost hurt.

Instead, she begins to move, lift herself up and down, and properly ride him. Harry brings one hand up to rest against her cheek while the other remains placed on her ass, subtly encouraging each drop with a push against it. “God, you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

If Y/N didn’t have him balls deep inside her, she might have had the good grace to blush. Instead, it spurs her on moving faster against him, the sharp thwack of his balls against her easily resounding through the sparse walls of her living room. Each moan of pleasure from Harry causing a similar sound to echo from her own chest, the intimate act they were initiating in causing her to feel even more connected to him as if each bout of pleasure was her own, each desperate tug of her hair and nudge of his own hips was a piece of her own desperation flowing through him.

It can only explain why he holds her against him, leverages her up by the bottom of her thighs and begins to thrust up into her the second her legs start to give out. She was too close, dopamine flowing through her veins so readily it was causing her legs to shake and feel like jelly, and his sharp pushes into her weren’t helping in the slightest.

She feels her orgasm coming from a mile away, the feeling creeping up through her hips and shoulders, her pussy clenching and spasming just waiting for the inevitable release. It feels as if each thrust sends her a little bit closer to the edge, until finally, she’s free-falling, every neuron in her body firing, signals of pleasure and joy sparking over synapses, running from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

At the exact point she becomes too sensitive to continue, Harry pulls her down on him completely, burying himself inside of her as he cums, each spurt of cum causing a tiny jolt to go through him and in turn a small gasp to leave Y/N as she fights the urge to pull away from the overwhelming pleasure. She played with his hair and scratched at his scalp as he calmed down, his head buried in her neck, leaving open mouth kisses against her collar bones.

“Fuck me, that was good.”

He chuckles, humming his assent into her neck, the vibrations tickling the sensitive skin and causing her to pull away, giggling. He only smiles and pulls her towards him, kissing her gently and sweetly.

Who would’ve thought the night would end like this. It had been such a roller coaster of emotions. The exhausting numbness and frustration surrounding memories with Xander were superseded by the intense rush of emotions associated with Harry, and it was a little jarring. She had gone from the lowest of lows to the highest of highs, wading through territory too familiar to be comfortable, into territory that was so new and invigorating it caused her teeth to chatter.

She was confused but happy, sad but relieved, exhausted but revitalised. And for the first time in a long time, Y/N felt whole. Not because of Harry himself, but because she had come to terms with herself, she thinks. Had let go of the past, of the heartbreak, the anger and frustration and had truly embraced the future.

She didn’t know where they were headed or what would happen, but there was one thing she was sure of.

Love sure was a fucking mix-tape.

#Harry Styles #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry #harry styles writing #writing #fuck this piece HAHA #you know how you start something and then hate it but you're too far into it?#Yeh I present **her**

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obeiii-mee · 3 years

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Mammon being greedy and constantly hoarding things away from all the others makes sense. That whole ‘scummy second born’ characteristic he has is what defines him as a demon and as a character. He’s the Embodiment of Greed. He does this shit all the time. The stealing, the lying, the gambling- all of it! Even his brothers seem to be under the impression that he doesn’t care about anyone else but himself. Which is just wrong, to put it in simple terms. Mammon does a lot for his family; they just fail to realise that.

Quite a few of the limited edition figurines and anime DVDs sitting on Levi’s shelf are from him, y’know? He made it seem like it was no big deal, that he found them lying around on the ground and he just happened to stumble across them and, out of the generosity of his own heart, handed them to his brother who was obviously excited to receive this kind of rare equipment. And the third born believed him because that sounds like a Mammon thing to do, since why else would he have such precious possessions within his reach? And give it to him no less, when he could’ve sold them for a lot of money??? In truth, Mammon probably went into debt trying to win these things and proceeded to spend weeks trying to get his hands on at least one so he could give the damn toy to his brother already. As an early birthday gift or something, idk what excuse he had in mind because he still has a reputation to uphold so he can’t be caught being a softie now, ya hear?!

Satan woke up with a cat in his room once. No tag, no owner. He swore that was the happiest day of his life simply because this random baby kitten found its way into his mess of a bedroom and he decided it was fate that such a wonderful thing were to happen. It took a while for Lucifer to agree but eventually he had to give in because Satan was being persistent, so he agreed on the condition that it’s just ONE cat and he better not come home to find a million of them sitting in the living room. Yeah, Mammon brought him that cat. He found it on the streets, in an empty alleyway or something, thought Satan might find it cute and then just…brought it home, I guess. And afterwards, he sneaked it into his brother’s room and pretended to act surprised the next day when its discovery was announced. He was also the one to convince Lucifer to let Satan keep it. Also, turns out the cat DID have an owner and Mammon just stole a pet, without even meaning to.

Asmo knows Mammon buys him make up kits and clothes from time to time. What he doesn’t know is that Mammon buys a lot of his jewellery too. To put it simply, the second eldest gets some really expensive looking-ass necklace, shoves it into a lower demon’s hands and tells him to go on and ‘give it to Asmo over there! He’s gonna love it, no need to thank me. You’re gonna earn some brownie points with the Avatar of Lust, good for you small, insignificant demon. Now just do it already!!’ Essentially, he’s too embarrassed to give these gifts himself but this is a regular occurrence that he forces onto others of lower status lol. Asmo comes home every time, flaunting this new gorgeous pair of earrings a fan of his gifted him and Mammon just goes ‘Whoa, that thing must be worth a fortune! Why dontcha hand it over to me, eh? C’mon, older brother privileges’ and the fifth born yells at him to stop being such a greedy asshole. The whole time he’s putting up a font so he doesn’t get found out because it would hurt his ego immensely if the others knew. Rinse and repeat after a couple of days….

The twins are easy because for Beel, all he needs to do is make him his favourite dish as often as possible and take him out to a few restaurants every once in a while to make him happy, which is good enough for Mammon, even if his wallet is screaming at him by the time they’re done. Belphie wouldn’t even notice this, but half of his pillows have either been ordered by Mammon on Akuzon or stolen from somewhere. I would be too afraid to ask where he stole such high quality pillows and blankets but yeah. Actually, those are two of the many things he does for the twins, the others including:

-Doing quite a bit of schoolwork for Belphie when he misses his classes (though he sometimes jokingly asks for compensation) or for Beel who stained his notes after salivating on them in class

-Sewing a few of Belphie’s pillows that he knows his brother used to like a lot before they ripped and had to be discarded of

-Always lets Beel know where his twin is because Belphie has a habit of falling asleep in random places and he doesn’t want Beel to worry about him when that happens so if he happens to spot him, he always tells Beel first so he can go and get him back to their room

-Etc…

Lucifer is last, mainly because Mammon doesn’t really give him a lot of physical gifts. I mean, some of the pricey alcohol the eldest has displayed in his office is from him but for Lucifer, Mammon was mostly there to provide him with emotional support. Especially after the fall happened and they all transformed into their ‘deformed’ demon forms for the first time, unrecognisable from the beautiful angels they once were before. That’s why Lucifer has so much trust in him-it’s because he knows Mammon is the most reliable demon out there and has always been there for him, quietly supporting him from the sidelines because he knew his brother had too much pride to ask for help from others. If I had to guess, Mammon would’ve had to pull Lucifer out of countless nervous breakdowns and self-pitying lines of thought, even more so after Lilith’s death. Honestly, Lucifer would’ve been totally lost and even more closed off than he is in the game at the moment if Mammon’s hadn’t been there for him. Actually, I guarantee you everyone would’ve fallen apart if Mammon was the one to die the Celestial War instead of their sister just because he’s the glue that’s holding them all together.

This post got really long but the point I’m trying to make is that Mammon loves his brothers and none of them really appreciate it enough because they’ve got this painted image of what they thought he should be like in their heads and therefore take all of his actions, as sincere as they may be, with a grain of salt. Obviously, these are just my HCs but I’m sure there are times where Mammon wonders if his siblings care for him at all or if they really dislike him as much as they let on. I know I would start thinking like that if I grew up in an environment where I’m constantly being insulted for the most minor of mistakes, since negative behaviour affects and sticks with you for a long time.

#obey me #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey HCs #I did it again #I was thinking about Mammon today #and then I got sad thinking #about how he gets treated sometimes #so I made these #to make you all suffer with me #:)

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thebadgerclan · 2 years

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Beautiful Wife

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Summary: Nikolai has the most beautiful wife...

A/N: Not requested, but semi based on the dream I had last night

Also I messed with the canon timeline quite a bit lol. It’s briefly explained, but know that Alina actually died during the attack during Siege and Storm, earning her her martyrdom, as did Aleksander and Vasily. IDK IT’S JUST WEDDING FLUFF OK

Dress reference at the end

Your maids were all smiles as they laced up your wedding gown, as unable to hide their joy as you were. Today, you were marrying Nikolai Lantsov, the heir apparent to the Ravkan throne after his brother’s death. Shockingly, the people rejoiced at the news, already praising the name of the future king. But today wasn’t the day to worry of fret over succession. Today, you were getting married, leaving room only for joy.

Alya, your lady’s maid, pinned your veil into your hair, shimmering gold lace, and took a step back. “You look beautiful, my lady,” she said. “Thank you,” you said, looking at your reflection. Your gown was gold, following Ravkan tradition, the sleeves hanging from your shoulders, the neckline swooping below your collarbones. The bodice was fitted and covered in golden lace that shone when you moved. The full, ballgown skirt was pale gold tulle, the intricate pattern of gold lace picking up a few inches above the hem.

You wore diamond earrings and a diamond necklace gifted to you by your sister, your hair twisted into braids along your hairline before falling down your back. Your mind wandered to your Nikolai, how badly you longed to see him. You’d spent last night apart, and you’d spent much of the night awake without his arms around you. But a knocking at the door drew you from your thoughts.

“Lady Y/N?” Genya said, poking her head inside the door. “They’re ready. Saints, look at you,” she added, opening the door more fully and stepping inside. Her red kefta was pressed in crisp lines, her eyepatch embroidered with the Lantsov double eagle. “Thank you, Genya.” “Are you nervous?” “No,” you answered, smoothing your skirts. “I’m excited. I can’t wait to call myself his wife.”

“Well, let’s get you married then!” Genya extended her arm, and you took it, your maids gathering your trailing veil in their arms. You descended the grand staircase of the palace, everyone in your path pausing to bow or curtsey. You weren’t yet royalty, but in a matter of a half-hour or so, you would be, and there wasn’t a soul in the palace who wasn’t eager to call you their princess, and then, their queen.

The day was warm and sunny, birds chirping in the trees. You, Genya, and your three maids made the walk to the Royal Chapel, the building draped in Lantsov blue and gold for the occasion. You entered the antechamber of the chapel, eyes landing on the painting of Sankta Alina, martyred after the Darkling’s ambush on the Palace at Nikolai’s birthday dinner. Alina had taken down the Darkling, but lost her own life soon after. The chapel had been rededicated to her after the rubble was cleared and the palace rebuilt, to commemorate her life. You said a quick prayer to your lost friend before smiling, focusing your mind on the positive. And there was so much positive today.

“Are you ready?” Genya asked, squeezing your arm. She was walking you down the aisle, your parents having lost their lives in one of the many attacks on local villages. “More than ready,” you replied, and Genya rapped on the solid oak doors, alerting the minister that it was time. Your maids arranged your veil on the ground, trailing behind you in elegant waves, before curtseying. “Congratulations, moya tsarevicha,” Alya said, turning and exiting with your other maids following behind her.

Genya squeezed your arm once more as the doors swung open, and you began your procession. Nikolai was standing at the altar, clothed in his military dress uniform, his ceremonial sword at his hip, medals and sash decorating his chest. He wore his crown as well, gold twisted into eagle’s wings, the metal resting atop his golden curls. Upon seeing you, walking down the aisle to him, Nikolai’s face softened, a tear rolling down his cheek.

You wanted to hike up your skirts and run as fast as your legs would carry you to your husband to be, but you kept your composure, walking in measured strides down the aisle. When you reached the altar, Genya stood up a bit straighter as the minister approached her. “Who gives this woman away?” he asked. “I, Genya Safin, Lady Y/N’s trusted confidant, give this noble lady away, in the absence of her father.” Her words stung, but only because you wished your father could be here.

Nikolai stepped forward, and Genya took your hand, lifting it from her arm and onto Nikolai’s. She hugged you, pressed a kiss to your cheek, and took her seat next to David, who took her hand as she sat. Nikolai led you the short few steps back to the altar, his hand firmly in yours. The minister smiled, folding his hands before him. “We gather today to celebrate the union of our beloved Prince Nikolai and Lady Y/N L/N.”

“You look absolutely stunning,” Nikolai whispered as the minister spoke about the Saints and their blessings, the gift of marriage and whatnot. “I am so lucky, my Y/N, you are radiant.” “Kolya, thank you,” you replied, face heating up. “You look quite dashing yourself.” “Do you, Lady Y/N, take His Most Royal Highness, Prince Nikolai Lantsov, as your beloved husband?” “I do,” you said, the two words carrying all the weight in the world. “Please exchange your vows.”

“Here,” you began. “Witnessed by our Saints and friends, I speak words of both love and duty. It is not a chore but an honor to swear faith to you, to promise to love you, to offer my hand and my heart to you in this life and the next.” “Prince Nikolai, do you take Lady Y/N to be your beloved wife?” “I do.” “Please exchange your vows.” Nikolai repeated the same words you’d said seconds ago, tears welling up and falling as he did.

The minister placed the thorn wood crowns on your heads, reciting a blessing in Old Ravkan. “The Saints have decreed it: this man and this woman are wed. You may kiss your bride.” Nikolai pulled you into his arms and kissed you as the guests cheered. Your husband kept you close when he broke the kiss, but the minister appearing at his side broke him from her revere.

“I believe there is one last order of business before we all get properly drunk,” Nikolai called, quieting the assembled guests. From the minister’s hands, he lifted a jeweled tiara, the gems in pale blue and gold, the Latsov colors. “Princess Y/N Lantsov!” he intoned, pinning the tiara into your hair. The guests repeated your new title, and your husband swept you into his arms, carrying you down the aisle and into the sunlight.

Outside, servants were gathered, and they cheered gleefully at the sight of their new princess. Nikolai was running now, on his way to the ballroom where your reception would be held, and when he arrived, long before any of your guests, he set you on your feet, pulling you into a deep kiss. “My Y/N, my beautiful wife, I love you so much. You’re perfect. Saints, I’m so lucky.” You returned the kiss, equally as passionate, your palms resting on his chest. “I love you more, Kolya.”

“Impossible,” he scoffed, cupping your cheek. “For I love you more than anyone has ever loved anyone or anything.” “I think you mean ‘improbable’, darling.” Nikolai looked at you with a blank expression before bursting into laughter, lifting you up and spinning around. “I knew I married you for a reason!” he cried, and you giggled, happily accepting the kiss he gave when you were on your feet once more. Your guests began filing in, but it took a moment for either of you to notice their presence, as you were too absorbed in each other.

#nikolai lanstov x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone reader insert

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