#yes there’s a hint of jealousy in there from Zayne | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunderingstars · 2 months

Note

So how do you think Zayne, Xavier and Rafayel would react when their s/o has a boy best friend, purely platonic but makes other people have second thoughts about their relationship.

Hehehe have a good day, write this if your okay with this 🪐

boy best friend (l&ds x reader) ♡

what the stars reveal: 1.2k, no gender signifiers used for reader, established relationship, ✨jealousy✨ but with a healthy dose of respect partner juice, surprisingly well-adjusted xav, half-headcanon half-prose, slight allusions to lore if you squint

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ જ⁀➴ hello !! thank you for giving me an excuse to write jealous rafayel >:3 the love & deepspace brainrot is so real for me right now, hope you enjoy !

— zayne is really good at hiding it, but his tiny mannerisms bleed through enough to make it clear he’s worried. it’s not that he has an issue with you having guy best friends, it’s just that everyone else seems to assume you two are together despite zayne standing right there.

Zayne just stares. Blinks. Stares. Blinks again. You have to nudge him as a reminder that he is, in fact, in public, and that introductions are usually reciprocated by both parties. As soon as you make contact, it’s like a switch flips.

He breezes through his name, occupation, and a firm handshake (not too loose, not too tight), making it look so effortless that you almost forget he’d frozen like a statue as soon as he laid eyes on your best friend. Almost.

He does his best to hide it, but it’s clear something’s wrong. The slight clip to his voice, the furrow of his brow, the hesitance in his eyes when he looks at you — they may be imperceptible to the untrained eye, but all the telltale signs are there. It’s only a matter of time before you get an answer out of him.

“I’m an adult. I don’t worry about those kinds of things,” he says when you voice your suspicion a few days later.

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s true,” he continues when you shoot him a disbelieving look, shuffling the papers on his desk in an attempt to seem nonchalant, “I have absolutely no problem with him.”

You don’t say anything else, simply fix him with a deeper look and cross your arms. He doesn’t crack. It takes a whole five minutes of him pretending to go back to work before he sighs and makes a show of signing something.

“I may,” he says, setting the pen down gently, “Be slightly… somewhat…”

“Jealous?” you finish.

“No,” he says. “Annoyed.” Then, quickly, “Not at you. Or him. Just everyone else.”

You don’t quite understand. “Everyone else…?”

Now it’s Zayne’s turn to fix you with a look. “You can’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

Notice what? you want to ask, but refrain since you don’t want Zayne thinking you’re more oblivious than you already are. You rack your brain for something, anything that you can remember from that day, until…

“Oh,” you say. You do remember getting quite a few stares even before you and your friend coincidentally ran into Zayne. At first, you thought it was because you were still in uniform, but you realize now that it may have been for a completely different reason.

Zayne doesn’t respond, just taps his fingers against the wood of his desk, a nervous tic.

“Those were people who got the wrong idea,” you continue. Then, when his mouth dips into a frown, you move to stand beside him. “I don’t mind hunting them down and telling them just how wrong they were.”

At this, his frown begins to lift. “You don’t need to do that.”

“I would, though.”

He looks at you clearly for the first time in a few days, a hint of amusement sparkling in his eyes. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” you say. You maneuver yourself between him and the desk, falling into a half-straddle. “I’d go to their house, knock on the door, and tell them exactly how Dr. Zayne and I make out every Friday eveni—”

You feel his hand brush against your mouth, closing it.

“Alright, alright,” he interrupts with a small smile, “I get it. I’m secure enough in our relationship not to worry.” He pauses for a moment, then says, “Just don’t miss any checkups.”

“I’ll be right on time, as always,” you say, pressing a kiss to his temple. “And if anyone asks, i’ll tell them exactly who my boyfriend is.”

“Thank you.”

— xavier isn’t sure why you think he’d be annoyed, since your best friend seems nice enough. if anything, you’re the one that seems nervous, broaching the topic with him only to realize he hasn’t minded from the start.

Xavier looks a bit confused. His eyes shuffle between your face, his phone, and the twisting hands in your lap, a small, awkward smile beginning to spread on his face.

“Am I supposed to be… worried?” he asks.

“Are you?” you respond.

This prompts a light chuckle from your boyfriend. He shifts on the couch, turning until his arm rests on the back and his body is angled towards you. “Not really. What about you?”

You shrug. “Maybe a little.”

This seems to surprise Xavier, and you can’t blame him. You’re a bit surprised, too, given that most people’s roles would be flipped in this context.

Still, you can’t help it. Even though you’ve known your best friend for years — much longer than you’ve known Xavier — you don’t want your boyfriend to feel like he’s being overshadowed in his relationship with you. However, it currently seems like those worries are unfounded.

“Well, the way I see it…” Xavier leans in, brushing his lips against your temple, “… it’s wonderful you have so many people to share your life with.”

“You really think so?” you ask, just to make sure.

“Of course. Although…” He leans back, then, mid-afternoon light filtering through the window and washing his features soft gold. His eyes sharpen like sun rays piercing through a cloud. “… if he ever gives you trouble, let me know.”

— rafayel is very loud and clear about his jealousy, and you can count on him to become clingy after you hang out with your best friend. ultimately, you know he doesn’t mind nearly as much as he says he does, so you’re happy to indulge his want for attention if it means you can comfort him when he’s insecure.

Rafayel, as he is wont to do, makes his feelings known immediately and with such startling clarity that at first you think he’s joking.

“You’re serious?” you finally ask, the corners of your mouth tipping upwards into a smile while his stay fixed, pouting.

“Of course I am,” he says. He glares at the empty air beside you head as if it wronged him in a past life. “I mean, it’s fine and all, I guess, but we haven’t seen each other in four days. You haven’t even taken me plushie hunting. And yet…”

“And yet…?”

He crosses his arms and mumbles.

“Use your words, Raf.”

He sighs. “You were with him all day. People were staring.”

“And so you’re jealous,” you deadpan, “because my best friend helped me with a case.”

“Yes!” he says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I could’ve helped too! If you keep going around without me like that, you’ll… you’ll…” Something changes in his eyes, and he clicks his tongue, looking away. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

You know your boyfriend well enough by this point to grasp what he’s hinting at. Putting your own frustration aside, you lean in, the soft fabric of Rafayel’s shirt brushing against your fingertips. You plant a soft kiss on his cheek.

“I’m not going to forget you,” you say. Then, you find his arm, uncrossing it so you can take his pinky in yours. “Promise.”

Slowly, slightly, the tension in his shoulders begins to release.

“Can we go plushie hunting?” he mumbles. Then, “Just the two of us?”

You smile. “Of course.”

🩵 bonus hc 🩵: i mentioned it in zayne’s part, but i like to think he drums his fingers against any available surface when he’s nervous or worried. between that, pushing up his glasses, and fiddling with his pen, you can read his mood based off of how much he messes with the objects in his vicinity.

(also also rafayel is so petty when he’s jealous, i know this one is basically canon but i just love it sm ♡)

#⌞ ✎ sunder.writes ⌝#love & deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x reader #love & deepspace x you #l&ds x reader #l&ds #love & deepspace zayne #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #l&ds zayne #l&ds rafayel #l&ds xavier

534 notes · View notes

roll-of-royces · 3 months

Text

HC: How They Respond To Someone Flirting With You

At first he is subtle about his jealousy, his jaw tightens, he shifts a little closer. He makes an off-handed remark to whoever is causing the jealousy ("Yes, my partner and I went out for breakfast yesterday. We enjoyed it.").

If the stranger persists so does Zayne. Now it's an arm lightly curling around your waist. It's a kiss to the top of your head, a rare display of affection despite others nearby. The statements become more claiming, like "I am lucky to call them mine."

And if still whoever is the culprit does not get the hint, Zayne's passive-aggressiveness grows. He all out disengages from the situation entirely, "If you'll excuse us." Guiding you away with a hand firmly in the small of your back.

He doesn't blame you, he expects it. After all what he said is true, he knows he's lucky to have you. The night ends early, as he takes you back to his apartment. When you're alone, he's clingy. Hands on your face, then your hips. He kisses you more than usual, muttering compliments like curses, "I should have known with you being so beautiful." or "Let me show you how perfect you are."

Needless to say, you don't get much sleep.

It takes Xavier a moment to realize what is going on, but after he puts the pieces together his stance changes. His normally casual slouched posture straightens. His eyes, blinking away in errant contented sleepy thought a moment ago, are now sharp. He takes your hand.

If that is not enough his astonishment grows. He doesn't understand why someone would flirt with you when he is right there, holding your hand. And now you're starting to look uncomfortable. He fixes the stranger with a harsh glare.

And when that is ignored, he falls into the strong tone of a legendary Deepspace Hunter, who doesn't share his paramour with anyone. "We'll be leaving now." He pulls you away, grip tight on your hand not caring if he has come off as rude.

The two of you head off together, stopping at one of your favorite sweets shops as you do. Xavier is red in the face, and keeps glancing at you. He apologizes, saying "I could have handled that better." But his tenseness loosens when you kiss him, because at the end of the day you're going home together.

Despite his casualness, Rafayel notices the moment the first flirtatious comment leaves the stranger's mouth. It instantly becomes a competition, because Rafayel knows all of your favorite things. He's learned them happily over your time together.

So each attempt at flirting is met with his own more dramatic attempt. The stranger compliments your hair, so he wraps it around his fingers and brings it to his mouth with a wink. The stranger says you look pretty, so Rafayel exclaims you are the most beautiful muse he has and will ever have.

The two of you end up making a bit of a game of it, until eventually the stranger gives up and leaves. When he's gone Rafayel laughs, "Did he actually think he had a chance?"

You laugh, and happily kiss him. It doesn't matter that you're at a party. You're with your love, and Rafayel is happy, smiling wide, grinning too often and never leaving your side.

#l&ds #zayne love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace #lads #I want to watch Zayne hit someone

408 notes · View notes

diorcities · 11 months

Text

nabi

pairing: lee donghyuck x afab!reader. content: smut, angst. miscommunication trope, exes to lovers, manipulation, toxic relationship, jealousy, college au, mention of jisung, mention of jaemin, mention of mark. hand job, shower sex (kinda) riding, angry sex, slight bondage, softdom!haechan, rough sex, edging, unprotected sex. wc: 6.8k. playing: 21 gracie abrams ;; somebody else the 1975 ;; white ferrari frank ocean ;; hostage billie eilish ;; there you are zayn ;; people libianca x becky g ;; la la lost you 88rising x niki ;; style taylor swift. an: thanks for reading <33

you missed his 23rd birthday.

as you listen to your roommate rummaging through her bedroom drawers, your eyes wander to the phone screen. fingers floating on the keyboard, half a sentence written, before you end up deleting it. the shower you have taken has not served to remove the thoughts that swarm in your head.

emily comes out of her room just as you block the phone, shooting you a look. “so, what are we thinking?” she asks, appearing around the doorway, taking a leisurely turn that allows you to see her outfit. “perfect,” you just say. emily huffs, “i hope so,” she informs, rolling her eyes at something that crosses her mind. then look at you again. “are you sure you don't want to come? i mean, it's a saturday night,” she says, and for a second, a hint of pity crosses her features. “i'm fine, ems,” you say, “i'll make myself some wine and devour a marathon of how to get away with murder.”

emily narrows her eyes. maybe her idea of saturday night is very different from yours, but in the end, she decides to give up. you listen to her heels become more and more inaudible until it is only silence and you.

you fall into bed touchless. looking at the ceiling contemplating your decisions. the sweet torture of maybes and perhaps invades you until you decide to shake them away like an annoying mosquito and head toward the kitchen. emily has taken the wine. you stare at the nearly empty fridge, cursing for declining the offer to get drunk until you lose consciousness and wallow with some handsome guy. your saturday can't be going worse.

a half-empty bottle of vodka lies on the fridge door, and you examine your chances and possibilities. there is always the option of going for liquor at 12 in the morning at the nearest supply, but honestly, you don't feel like doing it. so the bottle will suffice. not enough to get you drunk but enough to dull the chest pain that has been oppressing you since last night came to an end, and you find yourself collecting stars on the ceiling of your room while imagining him having fun with his friends, going out to a party, enjoying without you. maybe finding a girl and falling in love again, while you can't move on, pathetic, trapped, and sunk in the melancholy that memories of when he was with you bring to the surface. from when he loved you.

when it chimes 3 in the morning, you can't take it anymore. the bottle of vodka has run out even before its time, and your head feels light, so light that you feel like you can float. you change into used jeans and a sweatshirt before heading for the exit, but stop and think better of it, approaching the bathroom. the reflection is pitiful, fixing it is almost useless but you still try. feeling that no effort will give results, looking again in the mirror and looking the same or even worse. you give up very quickly, and by the time you want to rethink it again, you find yourself on the street.

a thousand and one thoughts swarm in your head. random images appear like shooting stars across your vision, are you crying? you do not know. the lethargy of the liquor does not let you think clearly. yes, you can blame it on that, when you find yourself in front of the mahogany door of his apartment. knuckles suspended in the air, debating. to go or to stay. the heaviness settles in the pit of your stomach and suddenly you are twenty again. a younger you, smiling, having friends, enjoying fleeting youth. finding love, falling in love, a guy with a blurry face smiles at you until his features harden, and you don't know why. suddenly the shell rises. and you feel like breaking his heart, but he's breaking yours. you don't know anything other than the unknown and dangerous feeling that consumes you, so you decide to end it before it finishes you. and you never look back.

but now you do. and there is no return from this point when your hands finally touch the wood. noises are heard from the other side, and you freeze. footsteps are heard in crescendo and a chill runs down your spine. the door opens, and suddenly all the words you know are gone.

donghyuck looks at you without revealing any emotion. shocked maybe? he doesn't say anything for an eternity, or a minute, no one knows. drinking in the presence of the other, assuring you that it is real. “hello.” your mouth feels dry, and swallowing is useless. “yn…” says your name, and you go back in the past when pronouncing your name caused warmth in your stomach. now the only thing that causes you is gagging. the guilt sits in your stomach, and it's unpleasant. “forgive me.” the prayer leaves your mouth before you can stop it, and a sob accompanies it. you see donghyuck suppresses a pitying frown before your vision blurs. you muffle the sound with the exterior of your hand, unable to meet his eyes, suddenly feeling his touch on your shoulders, slide down your back and draw you in. but not toward him. restlessness makes your mind have a lucid moment, suddenly observing his dark hair fall on his forehead, soaked, with small beads of water falling to the ground. you realize that he is entirely naked, except for the towel around his waist. “shit, i'm sorry.” there are no traces of the nostalgia to see him again, now replaced by the shame of having interrupted him while he was bathing. perhaps he expected it to be someone else, considering that he must have interrupted his bath to answer the door. “don't be,” he murmurs, modestly.

“not seriously. i must have interrupted you.”

“i was almost done.”

again, the silence begins to grow between your bodies, taking more and more space in the small room of their apartment, suffocating any opportunity to prevent it.

“did you expect…?”

“are you okay?” you talk at the same time. “of course,” you lie, and he nods. “how about you?” questions. “i'm doing fine,” he answers simply. you watch his fingers comb his wet hair out of sight, revealing that she looked at you first.

but you're not feeling well, are you? you haven't been well for a long time, but you've managed to avoid thinking about it because if you did, you'd say confessions that won't go anywhere. that they will be lost somewhere in his mind and that they would not make any change. talking won't improve anything.

so you're not okay. you haven't been since you didn't have him, but saying so would be selfish, and you care more that he is, because today is his birthday, and the thought of knowing that he's feeling horrible completely breaks you. “donghyuck…” the words burn in your throat, “don't say anything,” he begs, “it's okay,” he assures, but you shake his head. i didn't know you wanted me there, so i didn't go," you finished.

the confession hangs in the air, weighing, debating.

“it's okay,” he reassures, “you're here now, you don't have to apologize anymore.” and although forgiveness was supposed to give you a truce, it ends up making you feel worse. it eats you up inside, like a black hole that devours everything in its path. feeding on the dark places, until there is nothing left but an empty shell. donghyuck drags you to the surface as his icy hands hover over yours, and you look back in thanks. his eyes seem to say “you're welcome” when he looks at you.

and you can't help it.

you kiss him.

his cold hands begin to acclimate to your warmth as they run over your arms and back. fervent. unable to leave them alone. your fingers are buried in his wet hair, a sigh falling from his lips when you caress his nape. devouring the existence of the other, hungry tongues wanting to savor the other, the feeling of not having enough until you cannot melt your bodies...

donghyuck directs your steps blindly. his mouth still on yours. his soft lips being bitten and caressed by your tongue, the little sounds he lets loose dying in your throat. your back hits a hard surface, drawing you a surprised gasp. the reaction only causes the collision of your tongues when they meet, melting your insides and taking your breath away. you move away to catch your breath, even caressing the boy's hair, who wastes no time running his tongue around your neck. your hands travel to his bare, slightly damp shoulders, before sliding down her veiny arms, and back up.

his face hides in the crook of your neck, sucking and kissing your skin, releasing a thousand explosives into your senses, before his hands separate you from the wall and take you with him to his room. your shoes are lost somewhere along the way, your sweatshirt is stripped from your body by his hands, breaking the kiss only to remove it over your head, before attacking your mouth again.

your hands run over the smooth skin of his chest and back, letting yourself be carried away by him while you kiss him with the same fervor as he does. “let me…” your eyes open when you no longer feel movement, and your feet stop on the cold surface of the tiles. his eyes flicker between yours and your waist. your gaze moves down, where her body is hidden only by a towel wrapped around her waist. you nod, dry-mouthed, finally looking up at him. giving him the permission he shouldn't ask for. leaving chaste kisses on your mouth while his hands go towards your pants, and yours towards his, helping him to remove the garment, which falls heavily on the floor.

the kiss deepens as his hands wrap around your waist, circling his thumbs, working his way down to your butt, feeling the skin, squeezing.

your hands go to the cloth that covers his masculinity, stopping you momentarily, as donghyuck pushes you against him. you feel the bulge in your lower belly, pressing against the towel. donghyuck makes you press against him, letting out a strangled groan. you swear that your interior tightens. foreheads brushing as your hands finally undo the towel from her waist, and her hands slide your underwear down, both falling to the floor, taking a backseat. his hand goes up your back, until it finds the clasp of your bra, taking it off with an agile movement, while all his attention is on your mouth.

his hands run through your body carelessly, as if all his judgment had been removed along with the towel on the floor, leaving only the primitive and lustful desire inhibited by his morality. taking your chest in his hand while another does not allow you to move away from his body, resting on your butt. leaving all the control of the kiss in you, the way you want it to be, how long you want it to be, how deep and violent can be.

pushing his hip against you, stimulating his erection against your stomach. “shall we go back to the shower?” he questions between kisses his eyes remain closed, and something inside you stirs because you fear that he does not want to look at you. hiding from your gaze, he presses you against himself. “yeah.” his voice is hoarse and guilt-ridden. and yet knowing it, you can't just walk away and leave it. you can not. because you are selfish.

your lips attack his neck while he detaches himself from your body to open the shower and regulate the temperature. when he comes back to you, he pins you against the wall and kisses you, as if the episode from a while ago hadn't happened. you caress her temples and pull away. “are you okay?” you ask. his lips leave little kisses on your wrists. “of course.” his eyes finally look at you. there is nothing more in them than warmth.

“are you okay with me here?” you want to ask. will he say yes? will he be quiet? you want to know if he wants you with the same intensity that you want him. if the ghost of you still remains in him like his ghost in you, tormenting you every second you spend without being with him. is he okay here with you? you hope so from the way he kisses you and moans, that he thought of you at least once while he was with someone else.

and it's the only thing that matters. not the selfish being, or the most horrible person in the world. or feel like shit for knowing that the one who put you in this situation was yourself. that asking you if he wants you there with him is totally your fault, and that both of you feel miserable is caused by you. but it does not matter. while kissing you, your mind forgets everything. there is no room for the suffering that oppresses your chest, the guilt that eats you inside each time there are these encounters, the emptiness that lets you know that you are no longer his. without realizing it, you are crying. but donghyuck doesn't realize it; the shower hides the tears, and your sobs turn to moans as his leg settles between yours, moving it against your core.

you grind against him in a swing of the hips. your hands down his chest to his stomach, where his cock hits goosebumps. encircling your hand the length of it, you move up and down his member, stopping at the tip to touch it. donghyuck grits his teeth at the sensitivity, but doesn't ask you to stop. his hand goes to your hips to move more enthusiastically on his smooth thigh. the subtle movement makes you gasp, moving your hand in time with his movements. stopping without warning and replacing his leg with his fingers, nimble and careful, making you moan with each movement. stirring in sync with his fingers but not getting enough of him. “let me stretch you out a bit, mmm?” he whispers. his fingers send lightning bolts throughout your bloodstream. blood heating up, heart beating faster. your eyes flutter at the precise movements of his digits, knowing exactly where to touch, what place makes you moan, what place makes you close your eyes, what place makes you clench your legs because the sensation overwhelms you.

your hand works with pauses on his cock due to the effect he has on you, and you know how frustrating it must be feeling not to be able to concentrate, so you move his body away from you. “only you,” you say, catching your breath and beginning to long for his touch. you see him frown in disagreement and open his mouth to retort, but you stop him.

“i want to make you feel good.”

“okay.” his lips come back to yours, but this time, his hands remain on your hip. your fingers wrap around his penis, beginning to pound the length with great care. his neck is exposed as his head is pulled back, lips letting out guttural sounds as you fuck him with your hand. eyes devouring his expressions, his angular features contracting with pleasure, eyes narrowed by the incredible sensation of your hands working on his cock. your gaze moves to his cock. of a reddish tone and with pearls of precum in the cleft. and you find yourself fantasizing about running your tongue down the length, tasting it, getting it into your mouth. but you don't; it's too intimate. and it's not up to you to do it.

“what's going through your mind?” donghyuck wants to know. his eyes seek yours through the curtain of tears. your hands work faster and he seems to forget for a moment, letting out a moan that sounds like longing to you. “shit,” he says, finding your mouth and kissing it with wild excitement. “oh…o—oh fuck, nabi, don't stop.” your hand working fervently on his cock, with circular movements at the tip, occasionally brushing the slit with drops of pre-cum. donghyuck lets out another guttural moan before he cums into your hand. thick and hot semen, which bathes your hand and falls almost immediately on the tiles. watching him narrow his eyes when your hands linger longer on him, knowing exactly when to stop. donghyuck hisses at the sharp sensation coursing through his penis as your movements slow and stop.

you finish bathing and drying off as if the minutes were running out, as if the fire of desire could be extinguished now that they have come far.

his body is sprawled on the edge of the mattress, wide eyes watching every move you make as you climb onto him. kisses are left everywhere, stomach, arms, breasts, chest, neck, jaw, but never on your lips. kissing the skin of his temple, feeling him direct his member towards your pussy, already longing for him. slipping like silk from how wet you are. feeling it fill you inside, pleasantly. “o—oh,” you groan. the sensation overwhelms all your senses, making it impossible to contain the swing of your hips. donghyuck throws his head back, eyes closing and mouth parting to let out moans and gasps, feeling his penis being engulfed by the gummy walls of your tight pussy, hearing the sounds of your cunt sloshing every time their hips come together, every time you collide with him.

rhythmic and enveloping movements, moans intertwining in the hot air generated by your bodies on fire. consumed by desire drowned out by unspoken words. just letting yourself be carried away by the fiery feeling you feel for each other from day one.

donghyuck feels so good inside you that you can't help but speed up your thrusts. take it all sight blurring and darkening with the desire to see him demolish under your body. feel a tingling in the stomach knowing that it is you who has put him like that. a mess, a bunch of grunts and broken words. his hips meeting yours from time to time, unable to contain himself, wanting more of you, to feel full. hands gripping skin, pushing you against him when the sensation is overwhelming and clouding your senses. “shit, hyuck.” your face contracts when you feel the knot tightening your insides.

uncontrollable gasps gush out of your mouth, followed by his name. again and again. fascinated by the way you look, fucking him, moving like that on top of him, looking so masterful and heavenly, his gaze darkens with desire and becomes heavy. “o-oh, yn. you're going to kill me.” your hips relentlessly rocking on his cock, hands locked behind your back as he decides to take over, and thrust into you, tensing your body as much as you can to hold still as he fucks you, so good. dropping you at the last second as you finally release yourself on top of him, collapsing in spasms as his movements become more jerky and clumsy, finally coming a second time. pulling his cock out and spilling his seed on the skin of your ass, feeling his hand milk his cock into you.

nothing is heard except your heavy breathing and the gear of your thoughts as you ponder what has just happened.

he leaves for a few seconds for his clothes, still together on the bathroom floor, and returns with a cloth that you use to clean his load from your skin. dressing without exchanging words. saying anything else as you leave. he doesn't stop you. and something breaks inside you because you let him go for the second time.

you don't know how you get to your building, but it's already dawn. the vodka hasn't been enough to get you drunk but to leave an annoying sharp pain somewhere in your head. you rub your eyes from not having slept at all, looking in your pockets for the key to the apartment, but it's not necessary.

jisung looks at you with slight surprise to see you there in the corridor. “we just arrived,” he says. you have never been close enough to greet each other or ask how the other has been. simple conversations that provide the required information. “i was walking around.” he nods, and you don't know if he believed you because you hardly know him. you see him around campus with his friends, and sometimes in the library, but you don't come over to say hi; you ignore each other's existence most of the time, except when he comes by from time to time for emily, but nothing more. you look at each other and decide that it is time to say goodbye, bowing your heads so slightly that there is hardly any movement. you walk into the apartment once you see him disappear down the elevator, ready to brush your teeth and head off to college in twenty minutes, but stopping when you feel emily's presence in the living room.

she makes no more noise than when she blows her snot. she's wearing a jacket you haven't seen her wear before, so you assume it belongs to the guy who left a few minutes ago. her silhouette is hunched over and she does not look at you despite knowing that you are there. you make threats to withdraw because clearly, you don't know how to comfort anyone, but her voice stops you. “he didn't even look at me. not once."

“i am sorry to hear that.” her gaze drifts from the carpeted floor to look at you. bloodshot eyes from crying until she had run out of another tear. “love suck, doesn't it? you seem to know that” she says, hinting how you never bring boys to the apartment like her. finally getting up from the couch, and coming over to you. you think, for a second, that she's going to hug you, so you freeze there, waiting for it to happen, but it doesn't. “love's not supposed to hurt. we have to let it go, right?” and even though your past actions led you exclusively to the opposite end of her words, you nod and agree with her.

yes, you have to know how to let go.

εїз

you rub your eyes and stare disoriented at the numbers shining on the phone screen. “hello?” you don't know who can possibly be calling you at this hour, still lethargic from your interrupted sleep, you look at the clock that marks two in the morning. “eh! yn.” emily's voice comes over the cell phone. “were you sleeping?” she asks, and even though you don't want to show your irritation, it comes naturally. “yes, emily. others like to sleep at two in the morning sometimes.” but she only laughs, revealing that she's drunk.

“jisung's with you?” you wonder, preoccupied. “no, i lost him. i borrowed a phone. hey! but since you're awake,” she says over the music. “can you check if i left my phone in my bedroom?”

“fuck no!” you complain, exhaling. “i have to get up early tomorrow, ems. i'm sure you can live a little without your phone.” you wait for a response, but she already hangs up.

you go back to bed, ready to fall asleep again but unable to do so. tossing and turning in bed, thinking about emily, worried that something might happen to her. you couldn't live knowing that something had occurred to her because of you. cursing as you get up and grab any piece of clothing within reach, before leaving for the party where she is.

at the time you arrive, it's four in the morning. another day without having proper sleep, accumulating sleepless nights like a collection of your own. passing through people you don't know and that you are sure you need to remember from classes you attend. you find jisung smoking with his friends, approaching him when you don't see emily around. “where is she?” you ask, seeing the smoke he let out of his mouth before answering, and even though he doesn't say it, you know he thinks you're so hypocritical. “probably inside.” you give him a last look before heading inside the house.

your eyes scan all the faces, looking for emily, but you don't find her. instead, you come across the mirage of a tattoo adorning the back of a boy's neck through the sea of people. with his back to you, he seems to be chatting with someone. and you can't physically stand there any longer. forgetting about emily for a moment, debating whether it's worth it or not.

you turn on your heels, jolting by a body colliding with yours, which shakes you out of your conjectures. you come out of your inertia ready to mumble an apology and get the hell out of there before he sees you, but you are stopped by his hand when it lands on your waist without warning. you look, surprised, stupefied, and annoyed at the boy who swigs a bottle of whiskey. taking a prolonged sip of the liquor while rocking his body from side to side, and consequently, yours as well.

then he looks at you, dumbfounded as you snatch the bottle from him and reach for it. the fire of the liquor runs down your throat and fuels the fire in your stomach, furrowing your eyebrows at the tingle it leaves on your tongue. the boy's clearly drunk, looking at you with awe when you stare at him from below, using his spare hand to grab your chin and smash his lips with yours.

and it's the first time, the weight on your chest is relieved. your mind is silenced, and you're just there, kissing a guy while the music plays through the club speakers. everything clicks for a moment, and you finally understand that you can move on. that there is calm after the storm. but you've spent so much time not knowing it, you've gotten used to it.

his mouth tastes like alcohol and something sweet. and you drown yourself in it, quieting your demons. remembering that you are young, and there is so much to experience. hoping you could stop feeling so miserable when you set foot outside, at the thought of rebuilding your life. that you can find something else. that the world is so big… and your thoughts can be so small, they're almost relevant.

but you can't help but open your eyes. and look at him, across the room. with his lips on the girl. but his eyes on you. you unwillingly break the kiss. “fuck, you're fun to kiss, yn.”

you're about to pass on it and go home. this was a bad idea. you can't do it. but you stop yourself.

because your name on his lips reminds you that you exist.

“how do you know my name?” you ask, stunned. the boy smiles. “science,” he mentions, though it sounds more like a question. an amused smile appears on his face as if he finds it funny that you don't remember him, “we see classes together.” you try to remember his face, in the classroom you deliberately ignore since you're ultimately in your head. “and we hooked up last semester.”

“i'm sorry,” you say, but that only makes me smile more.

“i could have expected it,” he replies, “you're way out of my league.” his confession jolts you out of your lethargy like a punch straight to the stomach. he takes the bottle from your hand and takes a swig, watching your reaction to that information. “you're like… halley's comet.”

“you're hardly ever around, but when you do show up, you're breathtaking,” he admits, even now, knowing you didn't put any effort into your image. even now, being a quarter of what you were before. even now, working at 5%, sunk to shit. he finds you special.

he takes your silence as an answer. his hand now caresses your chin, and you see him move closer. resting his lips on yours, he begins to kiss you. but it doesn't last long, because you break it. “i have to go.”

you curse yourself so much that you lose count. unaware of your surrounding and finding yourself in a pit (that you dig yourself) so deep that you forget what you have come for, rubbing your head because it looks like it is going to burst.

you don't see him approaching. he doesn't say a word, neither do you, when he drags you to his car. bodies colliding against the passenger sit door as his face comes closer.

“you should know by now. i don't share.” eyes amusingly glaring at your lips, part open due to shocked events. his words burning on his lips, marking itself on you. watching him breathe raggedly, his body pressing against yours, showing how angry he is. and yet… hands gently resting on your waist, before your body is dragged with his into the front seat of his car. “wait, what are you doing?” you ask him when he slams the door behind him and goes to the driver seat.

“not doing this with you, donghyuck.”

“you don't get to ignore me all year and then appear at my dorm on my birthday.”

“i thought that's what you wanted.”

“don't be a hypocrite.”

you stare at him with a stunned look. “am i the hypocrite? you are as much to blame as i am.” suddenly letting out the pressure on your chest. finally releasing the explosion that for weeks, months, and years has been taking your sleep away. “you did this to yourself,” he eventually says, and you swear something broke inside.

“you walked away, not me.”

“because you always ruin everything.” his words cut you like knives, and he can even believe he said them out loud, keeping them with him until he couldn't hold them anymore.

“you get scared and shut down because that's all you know: to destroy yourself and others,” he accuses, voice escalating in intensity. “you don't concede for a second that you can have anything good for yourself,” he reveals, finally, that you're not the only one who has suffered. “so all you do right now is ruin us.”

“there is no us,” you lie. “why, because i'm not good enough?” but you don't answer, you couldn't. because you never renounce each other. but your silence is taken as something else, something that you don't clear out because you're both interrupted. your phone rings and both pair of eyes glance at the unknown number, but you know who's calling.

“don't answer.” donghyuck voice is only a whisper, but you can sense what he hides underneath: a promise. but you do exactly the opposite, because you need to know. now that you're sincere with one another, there's no going back. but you can only make it if you know she's safe.

“ems, where are you?”

εїз

bodies crashing and stumbling into each other like a hurricane taking everything in its path. hands everywhere, grasping, holding as if the other would disappear if you didn't show each other enough affection. if you didn't show each other how much you wanted each other, how long you had repressed the urge for your mouths to finally come together.

there is no beginning or end. start or finish of where one ends and the other begins, as you devour your essence, tongues and teeth, sucking, sucking, biting. moans and gasp as the other kiss you just like you wanted, where you touch each other just where you need it. pressing your back at the door, without having stopped kissing since you arrived. but you have to tell him. you must or other way you think you might combust. the confession slips out from your lips in a whisper.

“i'm sorry.”

“i don't want to hear it, yn.” he breathes, chest rising and falling as he breathe erratically. “i missed you, i always will,” you reply, sensing him shake his head. “shut up.”

an eternity in each other's mouths, brushing against each other's bodies, grinding your hips together. showing how much he wants you under his jeans. feeling you damped your underwear just by how he's holding you close to him, as you'd run if he held you a little less aggressively.

your body is removed from the wall and forced to intertwine your legs at his hips as he gracefully lifts you off the ground. his firm hands on your ass trace small circles on your skin while his mouth attacks yours in a kiss that can ignite you if he so desires. “donghyuck.” you are deposited on the floor of his room, donghyuck's lips still on you as he takes off your pants and shirt, leaving you in your underwear. he breaks the kiss to remove his jacket. your hands instinctively go to him, but he grabs your wrists and pulls them away. “please...”

“don't do this to me.” his hands grab your wrist as a way to ease himself. lips in a thin line as your eyes try to meet his gaze, but he shuns you. “you're fucking evil.” his grip tighten in your skin, but you endure it because deep inside you, you know you deserve his rage. when he sees you, a chill runs down your spine with his eyes darkening. “hyuck...”

he kisses you now more eagerly, stopping your words. lust merging into anger. touches more violently, all the repressed emotions finally emerging to the surface. he takes your bra with a quick move of his fingers, while the other hand buries inside your underwear. he hums in bliss to know you're already soaking wet. to know that he doesn't need to stretch you for him, seeing how ready you are to take him. fingers running through your folds before stimulating the swollen bulge of your satisfaction. circling your clit as he holds you close when your legs start to tremble. “lay back and spread your legs.” he stops and removes his fingers from you, and takes off the remaining clothing on you.

you hold up a moan and do as he told, not leaving unnoticed the moment when he puts his fingers in his mouth and tastes you on his tongue. laying on the bed while his eyes, consumed in their entirety by his pupils, watch you like a predator watches its prey. stroking his cock with the view of your glassy cunt. hovering you and pressing the tip at your entrance; you let out a wail.

a sweet ardor runs through you when your walls clenched around his penis, pushing it inside you as his eyes shut close. your legs shut together before his strong grip on one of them forces you to spread them again, holding it against the mattress. “you're constantly on my mind,” he states, rolling his hips just like he knows you love it. “a-and i hate it.” your back arch and your mouth slip out a groan.

he thrust you against the bed with energy. heavy breathing as he fucks you right, with the dose of rage and passion you both need it. hands holding you down while he smashes into you, cock hitting you without clemency as your vision blurs while you reveled from the way his dick stuffs you. legs trembling and cunt palpitating when he stops suddenly.

his cock twitched between your walls as shudders invade you and a choked sob fill the room, right before his hands grab both of your legs and flexed them under his forearms. a pant leaves your mouth when you feel his dick burying deeper as he comes closer to you. hovering you, so now his cold chain hits your face. a tingle runs through your core and stays in your stomach when he speaks. “i want to hurt you.” walls wrapping him and squeezing his cock. “i-i wanna hurt you... —just like you hurt me.” your arms surround his shoulders and pull him closer. a sublime message you're not willing to say. «do it», instead, your eyes filled with tears, even though you can't decide whether it's from his words or the raw desire that washes you.

the muffled sound of your damp cunt every time shoved his cock filled the room, already mixed with your loud and heavy breathing. necklace subtly moving over your nose and forehead with his rough thrust. long-drawn groans at every throb of your pussy, swamped and dissolving into ecstasy.

a fire pools low in your belly, panting and quivering under his weight due to his raw and merciless pounding. translating his hands under your back to arch it so he can plow you deeper, a lashing running through your nerves when it's too much, when he's too much. “stay still.” you roar and tense your body, feeling numb and drunk of his dick finding his way in and out of you.

face contracting and a shiver sweeps him. “f—fuck.” his hand go to his under-shaft, curling his fingers around it. feeling lightwave when his thrust slows its pace and grinning to know that he's so close to cum he needs to stop. “turn around.” he lets you go, pulling out his length, twitching in his grip. creamy precum mixed with your fluids on the tip.

you press your chest on the mattress and lift your butt, resting your weight on your flexed arms, spreading your legs for him. a shaky breath leaves your lips when you feel him push himself back into you. sliding his cock all the way in while his hands look for support on your waist, arching you even more. they're removed once he fixed your position and go to each side of your body, hips meeting with a smash sound. your butt lifting so you can meet his body in the middle. “o-oh, h-yuck.” you swear seeing stars, twinkling in your vision. eyes glued to the headboard that smacks against the wall with every movement of his hips.

donghyuck fucks you harder, til your mind shuts down and you can only let out incoherent sounds. wailing and hissing because it's too much to handle, because he's driving you to the edge and not letting you go. holding yourself back because you don't want it to end. you don't want him to part away from you and left you in the dark again.

you catch every single sound he makes. drinking it, saving it in your memory. lips pressed on your ear, hearing him whining as he slow down the pace. struggling to keep it up longer. his hand going to your clit and starting to rub the sensitive area. your hips unconsciously rock against his fingers, feeling your vision foggy.

“you're mine and no one else's” he says, watching you squirm under his weight. “you belong with me. to me.” your hand reach his and you interlace your fingers while he thrusts you eagerly. with the intensity of your confessions now on each other hearts.

“h-hyuck,” you moan his name, unleashing a shot of sensations through your bloodstream. the truth told. revealed. releasing that pressure on your chest and now replaced with his words, printed in your memory.

“always.”

your muscle tenses when you feel a white noise fill your hearing. the sweet sharp burn in your area increase due to donghyuck hitting that sweet spot at every thrust. your mouth part open and your face contract with the pleasurable feeling that washes you over, dissolving you in waves and trembles that shake your whole body. your walls squeeze his cock with every throbing spasm that invades you, while you are left in nothingness, ruined and numb, in the ether. sensing his cock pulsing as he relentlessly pounds into you and suddenly stop before you feel something warm filling you up.

“s—shit.” he hisses, weighting what he just done. yet his cock is still bury in you, as the last drop of his load paint your walls. he had never nut inside you. always making sure to pull it out before he cums.

the sensation is new to you. back pressing his chest as you feel it starting to leak out of you. a little smile of joy invades you, which doesn't go unnoticed by donghuyck, who joins you. hips rolling and grinding on him, hearing the splashing sounds of your glistening pussy wrapping around his length.

the room is filled with silence, while you stand there, intertwined. until you must go to the bathroom. your reflection looks miserable but also satisfied. lightweight. suddenly the fear of what are you going to find behind the door invades you, while a hundred questions blossom within you.

will he ask you to stay?

will he let you go again?

are these ephemeral moments all that remains of you, as you hope to discover in the future that you have always been destined?

when you open the bathroom door, his eyes says it all.

εїз

your presence goes unnoticed while he is with his friends. “why a butterfly, tho?” one of them wants to know. his laughter infects the others, but he only manages to make the boy smile fleetingly. “mark, do you want to leave him alone?” says the girl, caressing his bare neck. “i think it's wonderful and romantic,” she says, “butterflies..., yes, i kinda like them.” but the boy doesn't glance at her. not once.

at the other side of the table, jisung looks at her, but she doesn't look back, instead, her eyes transfer to someone else.

emily sees you yet don't wave at you. she never invites you to join the conversation with his friends. she's kind to you because that's what she's supposed to be to her roommate. but she never talks to you, or offers to take you home, or invites you to parties. not really. not entirely.

so she stare at you before removing her eyes as if she hadn't seen you. joining the conversation once again, brushing donghyuck's hair as a attempt to get his attention. but she never received it.

you force yourself to look away and follow your course, entering the corridors of history at the library. being so self-absorbed and abstracted playing with the chain around your neck, that you hardly feel the touch that his hand makes when he passes by your side. he doesn't stop to look at you. and you don't go after him. instead, you stare at the monarch butterfly on his neck, and the sound of his voice calling you nabi softly, only for you to hear.

#haechan smut #donghyuck smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #haechan x you #♡haechan

631 notes · View notes

redandyellowziam · 2 years

Note

A view from 30,000 ft. Sometimes you "can't see the forest for the trees." Out of all the members of One Direction, who has expressed the most public vocal support for said group? Who, since the "hiatus" has on more than a few occasions been hinting at a reunion for the group? Who has routinely given public praise and support for the other members of the band on their latest projects? So, if you thought to sabotage all of that goodwill and brotherhood and unleash a firestorm within the fandom and GP; whom would you choose to be the vehicle to accomplish your goal? Who else but the spokesman for all things One Direction and the favorite punching bag of the "fandom" Liam James Payne. Talk about killing two birds with one stone.

Timing, why now? Why Minnesota? Harry, out promoting his latest album answers a question seemingly differently than the interviewer expected by saying that all of the members of One Direction still love each other. Louis, in the midst of a successful world tour with PRIDE flags everywhere. Zayn launches a merch line which highlights color combinations that many believe represents his relationship with Liam. Liam's two weeks old "relationship" reportedly has ended. Yes people, two weeks. All of this happens around the start of PRIDE MONTH.

Within a narrative discerning fact from fiction is difficult. The words that someone says may not be their own. If a contract can, force you to say that you are the father of a child that in fact is not yours. Then they can force you to say anything. He/she who contractually controls your public image controls the way the public sees you. Corrupt narratives are meant to be convoluted, meant to confuse. Thus, less likely to be understood much less believed. The purpose of the confusion is to shield the narrator and call into question the very existence of the narrative itself. Example, Harry with a burgeoning career, a "nontraditional wardrobe," however girlfriend narrative tentacles still attached. The tricky part is that not every word or act is part of the narrative, part of the sabotage. So, you look for clues by those controlled by the narrative. In this case teddy bears, tattoos, song lyrics, wardrobe. The lads are speaking. The question is anyone listening.

Five albums in five years. A stream of girlfriends to parade before the public and the first baby daddy narrative. The band rebels against label/mgmt. for this and many other reasons. The five members refuse to renew their contract. Label/mgmt. retaliates by creating a narrative that the band is going on "hiatus." Talk of infighting, disagreements and jealousy ensue. Also, a narrative.

So, it continues. It could be just another bump in the road on the long One Direction trail. Or it could be a slow decent of the beginning of the end of this long nightmare that the lads have been subjected to for the last 11/12 years. I believe it's the ladder, the narrators are running out of time. Contracts have an end date.

Whichever one it is, currently:

Each actor is under contract. Each actor has a narrative. Each narrative is different, and no actor controls his narrative.

Liam has always been the spokesperson of 1D, that never changed. I'm not mad at any of the boys, I just wish that they would show their support for Liam. Because Liam does it too, for all of them.

It's easy to point a finger at someone and accuse them of things, but to dig deeper and find out the reasons for someone's behaviour is something most people don't do.

People always hated on Liam and I don't think it will stop anytime soon, but you're right 'they're all under a contract', but apparently it's a fact people love to forget/ignore when it comes to Liam.

Liam is a wonderful person and I'll forever hate his team for making him someone he'll never be, in the public eye.

In reality: All of their teams suck at their job and I hope you're right.

21 notes · View notes

louandhazaf · 2 years

Text

ANNUAL WRITING SELF EVALUATION

List of works published this year:

This Time // When Harry shows up at Liam door, upset that his relationship has ended, Liam finally gets his chance to act on the crush he's harbored for ages.

Factor 50 // Harry's fingers long to touch.

An Advanced Position // Harry struggles to fuck Louis against a wall.

Behind those Fire Eyes // Liam’s messy xo scrawled on one of the discs called out to him. He carefully slid it out and put it in one of the three CD slots, and hit play with a smirk.Liam had been unbearably proud of this mix. Rightfully so, Zayn could admit with just a hint of jealousy. It was made with a very specific purpose in mind, and it was, Zayn realized, swallowing thickly as his cock kicked in interest, very effective.

a lot of pretty, pretty boys she calls friends // On a dark and stormy night, Jeffrey sold Harry to Olivia.

Work you are most proud of (and why): Quite honestly, I am incredibly proud of myself for actually finishing 5 fics this year. I was on the struggle bus most of the year, and had so many good intentions that just didn’t come to fruition, that these five fics are filling me with a lot of pride at the moment. Many, if I had to pick one, I’d say An Advanced Position because I had meant to write the concept in 2020, so at least I finally got around to writing this year!

Work you are least proud of (and why): sobs in regret at all the fics living in my head that didn’t make it to even a draft form. pours one out to the rest of the wordplay prompts. waves fondly at the motorboatrry fest.

A favorite excerpt of your writing: I still get such a kick of out the line, “Harry’s cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink, even at that most obvious of compliments.” in a lot of pretty, pretty boys she calls friends. Like, Harry my pal, this is not the time to be bashful, but I think it says so much about that Harry in the fic.

Share or describe a favorite review you received: oh jeeze. literally all of them? I wrote an open-ended angsty, lirry fic, a drabble, a bad at sex larry, a wistful ziam, and a kidnapped harry. everyone who came along for the ride this year, and then wrote some kind words, you’re the best people on the planet.

A time when writing was really, really hard: all.fucking.year.

A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: my (surprise! spoiler!) evil Louis in a lot of pretty, pretty boys she calls friends kind of came out of nowhere. It was originally going to be Louis actually saving H, but then as I was writing I was like, orrrrrrr what if H doesn’t actually get saved!!! and then i liked the (apparently) subtle realization that Louis was also up to no good.

How did you grow as a writer this year: the @1darkandstormy fest was awesome because I really wanted to challenge myself to lean into the purple prose aspect of it, since that’s not normally how I write. Getting it to the minimum word count was something I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to accomplish at some point in the writing process, so I was thrilled I got there in the end!

How do you hope to grow next year: I would LOVE to actually plan out, write, edit, and have ready an advent fic next year. The level of advanced planning needed!!! Let’s see if I can make some goals and follow through on them!

Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc): all of the amazing mods of all the great fests this year!!!!! Like, all of this terribleness is going on and you’re rounding up the troops to provide a+ content!!!! I love you! Thank you for the inspiration!

Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: hm. yes. I did have an ‘ex’ who made me a sexytimes CD. And I have made terrible choices sleeping with people who I maybe shouldn’t. annnnnnnd I think specifically, that’s it, BUT I think there was a very strong correlation between my general mood this year and the content that I ended up writing, so also a huge yes.

Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: If you are also in dark times, even if you can get one single fic out, you should try because it’s worth it. And if you can’t, that’s okay too. Maybe next week or next month or next year that writing mojo will come back and we’ll be waiting and excited to read it whenever you’re ready to write it.

Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: YES! I am SO EXCITED for my @harryrarepairfest fic that I seriously need to start working on.

Tag three writers whose answers you’d like to read. (apologies in advance if you’ve done them and I haven’t seen them! i have been offline for like two weeks.) @a-brighter-yellow @fallinglikethis @allwaswell16

*All answers should be about works published in 2021. Also, you can skip any questions you hate or don’t want to answer, but please leave them on the list so that others can do them if they want.

Thanks to @jacaranda-bloom @uhoh-but-yeah-alright @wadey-wilson @kingsofeverything @disgruntledkittenface & @haztobegood for tagging me! I loved reading all of yours!!

(also, here’re my responses from 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020)

#whinging on about my writing #sliding this in just at the deadline!

12 notes · View notes

empty-altars · 6 years

Text

I swear I was going to work on between the moonlight and the lane but my hand slipped and this happened. Idek. It wants to be more, but really it’s just 2300+ words of ziam smut. It’s been hanging out in my docs under the dubious title of ‘rnb softdom’ for about a year and I have a vague idea of where I was going with it. I think.

Two points, though:

1. This sex could be safer.

2. Even though we’ve never interacted in a meaningful way, I’m pretty sure at least 60% of this is the fault of @jaegyoo

-u should come over��

Zayn hasn’t even been back in LA for 3 hours yet when the message pops up. In reality, he probably shouldn’t. There are responsibilities and phone calls and appointments to make but he’s already messaging his driver and anticipation makes his hands tremble. It’s been too long.

The back entrance of the ostentatious house he’s dropped off at is completely hidden from the street and entirely too familiar. Every time he comes here, it feels like he’s risking more. They’ve hooked up in New York and London and once in Milan, but LA feels extra dangerous somehow.

Zayn has barely shut the door before he’s greeted by plush lips and large, warm hands cradling his spine. All the tension that’s been holding him together for the last couple months rushes out of him, leaving him pliant and grateful. Always grateful.

“You made it,” Liam murmurs between kisses. “Good boy.”

Two words and Zayn is there. His knees bend without his permission, dropping him on the carpeted entryway in front of Liam. The outline of Liam’s dick through his sweats is tempting, but Zayn knows better than to just go for it. Instead he looks up and waits, shaking with how much he wants.

Liam’s gaze is fond. He reaches down and cups Zayn’s jaw, pressing a thick thumb to his lower lip. “Already, baby? You’ve been wound up for too long. I’m sorry.”

In between, multiple time zones away, Zayn pretends. He imagines the press of Liam’s hands holding his wrists down and Liam’s voice like velvet in his ear. It’s never the same, but it keeps him sane. He’s never told Liam about it. This is supposed to be a safe space to explore their predilections with someone who has just as much to lose if it ever came to light. It’s for fun. It’s not supposed to be everything.

Anxious to get this show on the road so he can stop thinking entirely, Zayn draws Liam’s thumb into his mouth and sucks slowly. He traces the whorls with his tongue and savors the slight hint of salt bursting across his taste buds.

“Did I tell you to do that?” Liam asks with an arched brow.

Zayn whimpers and draws back, mouth watering and empty. “No, sir.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Liam smiles gently. “I forgive you. It’s been a while. Hands behind your back and keep them there.”

Zayn widens his stance and clasps his wrists behind his back, already feeling the pull between his shoulders. His muscles are out of practice. He’s going to feel everything for days and he can’t wait.

“You’re so good,” Liam praises, slowly drawing the waistband of his sweats down over his erection to sit around his thighs. He fists himself a couple times, watching the desperation play across Zayn’s face.

Zayn’s mouth drops open in anticipation. He doesn’t have to wait long. Liam slides the tip through his lips and Zayn moans deeply. He’s missed this so much. Liam’s dick is perfect and he wants to worship it, wants it so deep he’s choking on the length, but he’ll take what he’s given and savor it. His eyes drop closed in ecstasy and Liam pulls back, drawing an unhappy whine from Zayn.

“Eyes open, baby. I need to see you, need your pretty eyes on me.”

Zayn huffs in irritation at himself. He knows that. He knows the rules.

“Shh,” Liam hushes, “we haven’t even started.”

Zayn nods. Liam’s being generous, but if Zayn pushes the boundaries much more he probably won’t be allowed to come later. The very thought makes him want to weep. He’s been jacking off alone for way too long and it doesn’t come close to what Liam can do to him.

Liam slides back into Zayn’s mouth, a little deeper this time, head pressing thick against the soft palate. Zayn resists the urge to shove forward, to bury his nose in the neatly trimmed hair at Liam’s groin. Instead he sucks gently, tongue playing over the prominent vein that throbs at his attentions, never taking his eyes off Liam.

“Look at you,” Liam says softly. “So beautiful. Do you want more, love?”

It’s a ridiculous question. Zayn always wants more, wants anything Liam will give him. He hums enthusiastically. Liam flashes him a filthy grin and slides the rest of the way, impossibly thick down Zayn’s throat and heavy on his tongue. The lack of air makes tears prick the corners of his eyes.

Liam reaches down to twine his fingers in Zayn’s hair, tight enough to hurt just right. He pulls Zayn back far enough to catch his breath before pushing him forward again. He sets up a rhythm that feels precise as a metronome. Zayn’s vision blurs and he loses himself in Liam’s hands, Liam’s heated gaze the only thing keeping him from falling apart at the seams.

“Come when I do,” Liam orders huskily. “Can you do that for me, baby?”

Yes, Zayn can do that. Zayn could probably come from Liam looking at him the right way. He’s been on edge ever since he got the text and is wishing he’d changed into something more comfortable than his jeans. He can tell Liam is close, rhythm getting slightly less steady, grip getting just a bit tighter. His own need unravels him, hips shifting restlessly against the press of denim and cotton.

Liam comes hard down Zayn’s throat and sets off a cascading reaction in Zayn. It’s so hard to keep his eyes open, but Liam’s lust blown gaze has him arrested. He calls Zayn beautiful, but Liam is heartbreakingly gorgeous like this with his flushed cheeks and chest, his soft brown eyes mostly pupil.

Zayn’s throat feels pleasantly raw when Liam retreats. He stays in position while Liam disappears into the kitchen. His shoulders burn and he sinks into it. Liam returns with a glass of water and a straw. He kneels next to Zayn and holds it up for him to drink.

“Thank you,” Zayn rasps, drinking deeply.

Liam runs a gentle finger down Zayn’s neck. “Such a good boy,” Liam murmurs. “I always feel guilty wrecking your voice, but you’re so good.”

Zayn arches into the touch. As always, Liam’s praise soothes something deep within him, something dark and raging that needs this to settle.

“You can relax,” Liam informs him, rubbing his shoulders lightly.

“Thank you,” Zayn repeats.

Liam gathers him against his broad chest and stands up. He helps Zayn toward the bedroom and onto the edge of the giant mattress. Zayn’s shirt gets tugged over his head and placed on a chair. Liam traces the latest tattoo with a curious finger.

“I saw pictures online, but this is sick,” dom Liam slips and lets regular Liam through and Zayn finds it hopelessly endearing.

He grins up at Liam. “Are we done already?”

Liam’s eyes narrow. “Not even close and you know it.”

“Was hoping,” Zayn says, too breathless for flippancy. He drops back onto the mattress. “What else did you see while you were stalking me online?”

He doubts Liam was doing anything of the sort. That’s really more a thing Zayn does, but he’s given up trying to stop. Even a staged pap shot is better than nothing. He simply can’t go weeks at a time without a glimpse of Liam.

Liam looms over him, clever fingers divesting Zayn of his jeans. “Saw that photo shoot you did. Looked like a model, all broody and lovely. Wanted to bend you over that table and make you scream.”

Zayn shivers. “Yes,” he grates.

“Saw that one with your girlfriend, too,” Liam whispers darkly against the curve of Zayn’s ear. “That one made me want to fuck you in front of her, show her what I do to you, make her hear what you sound like with my dick up your arse.”

She’s not his real girlfriend and Liam knows it, but it doesn’t matter right now. They’re back in the game and this is designed solely to make Zayn crazy. Liam is propped up over him, close enough to feel the heat of his body but not touching an inch of Zayn’s skin.

“Please,” Zayn whimpers.

“Please what, pretty?” Liam drawls.

“Please touch me,” he begs. “I missed you.”

It slides out of his mouth before he can stop it. Liam won’t hold it against him. One of their rules is that nothing said within the confines of a scene means anything outside of it. Zayn tries not to take advantage of that. He can’t. Otherwise he’d be offering up all of his secrets under the guise of playing a scene and the thought makes him ill.

Liam smiles slow and sweet. “Missed you too, baby. No one else is as good as you.”

Jealousy churns in Zayn’s chest and he tamps it down viciously. Liam is not his and if he can’t get his emotions in check he’s going to ruin everything and then where will he be? Tense and miserable and at loose ends like he was before Liam wandered into his studio a year and a half ago.

Liam slowly lowers his body onto Zayn’s, warm skin sliding luxuriously against him. He sinks his teeth into the junction of Zayn’s neck and shoulder, drawing a soft moan from Zayn’s lips. This is everything he wants forever and he’ll fight himself to keep it.

“Want to taste you, sweetheart,” Liam rasps against his neck, rolling them over so Zayn is on top. “Come up here.”

Zayn lets Liam maneuver him until he’s hovering over Liam’s mouth, hands braced against the wall. Liam smirks up at him and leans up to lick a hot stripe from his balls to his ass. Zayn shudders, dick starting to firm back up.

“Don’t come,” Liam orders before pulling him down and taking him apart piece by piece.

All Zayn can do is moan and try not to writhe. Liam’s tongue feels gorgeous, sleek and hot and insistent. His hands are wrapped around Zayn’s thighs, gripped tight enough to leave the fingertip bruises Zayn cherishes afterward. If it weren’t for the wall, Zayn’s pretty sure he wouldn’t still be upright.

He loses track of time, The world is reduced to Liam’s mouth against him, in him. Liam’s hands move to spread him further and Zayn cries out, babbling incoherently. He wants more, needs Liam deeper and finally Liam slides a finger alongside his tongue. Zayn wants badly to push against it but he hasn’t been told he can, can’t pursue his own pleasure. He’s turned himself over to Liam’s capable hands.

One finger becomes two, becomes three and four when the lube gets involved. Zayn is shaking, micro muscle twitches, keeping himself in place and not pushing back into the pressure the way he wants. It’s a slow, sweet torture that drives thoughts of everything else from his head. It’s exactly what he needs.

Liam wriggles out from under him and presses a steadying hand between Zayn’s shoulder blades. “Look at you,” he murmurs, dropping kisses down Zayn’s spine, sweet like warmed honey. “You’re perfect.”

Behind him, Zayn can hear Liam putting on a condom. He feels like need wrapped in a thin layer of overheated flesh, quivering and desperate. Liam doesn’t give him time to adjust, shoves home in one smooth thrust, punching a cry from Zayn’s throat and leaving him scrabbling against the plaster.

Liam’s hands come up to press his wrists firmly down. “Stay,” he growls.

Zayn pushes his fingertips against the wall so hard they turn white and waits. Liam sets a brutal pace, leaving no room for anything but physical sensation overwhelming him. His hands burn into Zayn’s hips and every thrust pulls a helpless moan from his abused vocal chords.

Liam’s voice has dipped into a deep rasp, showering praise in sweet words that Zayn’s brain can’t interpret. All the same, the tone drenches him in pleasure, spirals him closer to orgasm. Liam’s words feel like a physical caress.

“Come when you want, baby,” Liam says.

It’s a gift, a testament to how long it’s been for both of them. Next time Liam will most likely require him to hold back, to shove at the edges of his self control, but not this time. Zayn is unbearably grateful to him, is probably babbling incoherently about it. He allows the heat to overwhelm him, to incrementally shove him higher until he’s coming hard against the wall. Liam is right behind him, shoving one last time with a deep groan.

The world is soft focus when Liam pulls out and arranges Zayn gently against the pillows. He tilts Zayn’s head up to sip at a water bottle and soothes Zayn’s trembling limbs with firm, smooth caresses. Slowly things become clearer, reality putting itself back together piece by piece.

“Hey there,” Liam greets with a grin, the kind that makes him look ten years younger and sweeter.

“Hey,” Zayn croaks. He feels heavy, weighed down after floating for so long.

Liam presses a soft kiss to Zayn’s bruised lips. “Thank you.”

He always does this, thanks Zayn like he’s done him a favor or something, like Zayn isn’t the one reaping all the benefits. Zayn’s lips twist in an emotion he can’t quite name and something dark and complicated twists in his gut. He chooses not to explore it. Probably ever.

“You’re welcome,” he replies.

“You want a shower?” Liam asks, bringing Zayn’s fingers up to his lips and kissing the tip of each one individually.

“Later.” Zayn wants to keep Liam on his skin for as long as he can.

“You good to stand?”

Zayn flexes his legs experimentally. “Maybe?”

Liam laughs, his eyes fucking sparkling. “Yeah, me too. In a bit you wanna see what I’ve been working on? I can order in.”

Zayn shouldn’t. He should set up some boundaries, but part of his problem is that he can’t help but consider Liam a friend. Their edges slot together so perfectly in and out of bed, like a puzzle piece he didn’t even know he was missing until Liam showed up with his boyish smile and warm, safe hands. It’s got him ten kinds of fucked up.

“Yeah, alright.”

#ziam #drabble #mine #wtf self #smut

59 notes · View notes