Preference 128-His Reaction to You Breastfeeding

Requested (as a turn on and it turned out different)! I’m sucking with titles lately, sorry! This is really bad! :(

Master List

Niall: He watches from afar, you pull down your nursing bra and place your son near your chest. The Meer sight of the interaction had him squirming. Every time he saw you breastfeeding, he got turned on. You always laughed because he did the same thing every time. He would watch you and when your son was burped and put down, he was making his way over to you. “Why do you do this every time?” you mumble, feeling him lay down next to you on the bed. His hands were already feeling up your torso, wondering further up north. “Because you’re boobs are massive and squishy, I love them,” he smirked, moving his hands to your breasts. His large hands took your breasts into his hands and he started to fondle them. “Stop, they’re sore,” you grumbled. “That’s why ‘m massaging them.” He squeezed a little too hard, making you hiss and reach to throw his hands off of you. “No more,” you smiled, leaning over to kiss his pouting lips

Zayn: You sat on the rocking chair, cradling the baby against you. He was fussy, obviously hungry as he kept moving his head towards your chest. Zayn had just gotten home and he went searching for the two of you. He made his way to the nursery, stopping at the doorway as he saw that you were feeding. He loved the sight, it was beautiful if he was honest. He saw that it bonded the two of you, the baby and you of course. He always watched in admiration, knowing that it was hard at first, but you never gave up. The sight of you breastfeeding turned him on just a bit, more than he would have admitted. “When did you get home?” you asked, catching him guard. He smiled and walked in closer, he leaned over and kissed you before kissing the baby’s head. “I just got here,” he smiled. “Were you just going to stare?” you smiled, feeling his hand on your shoulder. “’S nice sight,” he chuckled, making you roll your eyes.

Louis: The size of breasts had grown since pregnancy, even keeping the size after giving birth. He loved it. Every time you went to breastfeed your daughter, he would be on standby. It made him hot for you. He loved watching you breastfeed, it would make him want you. Every time, it never failed, you laid you daughter down for a nap, he would pounce on you. “It’s so hot when you feed her. Your boobs,” he started kissing your chest. “Are incredible. Always have been, but now…” You giggled, feeling him move your bra to the side. “Lou,” you moaned, loving the feeling of him all over you. “They’re tender, slow down,” you said, feeling him squeeze the left one a bit too harshly. “Sorry,” he said, switching sides. “You’re a horny bastard,” you joked, closing your eyes at the sensation.

Harry: He watched as you held your daughter in your arms. You were such a natural with her and it was such a turn on for him, you being a good mum. He watched as you set her up against your breast, ready to feed. Every time he saw you feeding, he got a weird feeling. He knew it was weird, feeling hot and bothered when you were doing something that was so natural. He felt like a horny teenager whenever he saw your boobs, when you were feeding. “Stop watching you weirdo,” you chuckled, making his eyes widen. “Sorry,” he mumbled, sending you a smirk. “Why do you always do that?” you asked, sitting back against the couch. “I don’t know. It’s just really hot. I don’t know what it is. I’ve always quite liked you boobs, babe.” You laughed softly, not wanting to startle your baby. “You’re a loser,” you smiled, motioning for him to sit with you, which he obliged to.

Liam: It was hard and sometimes frustrating when your son wouldn’t latch, but Liam was helpful. As best as he could be. He kept saying it was wonderful, the connecting that breastfeeding brought to you and the baby. He loved watching, sometimes in a more sexual way than anything. In the beginning, he knew he couldn’t act on his frustrations, but eventually he started to. “’S hot,” he would say, bringing you to his body whenever the baby was set in his crib. “Why?” you asked, chuckling at the horny man in front of you. “Just is,” he says, kissing your neck, letting his hands palm over your breasts. He loved how full they were, able to hold them in his hands perfectly. “How is it hot, idiot?” You loved pushing him, trying to contain yourself form the feeling he was giving you. “You’re a hot mum. Seeing your boobs is great, especially when you’re breastfeeding. Baby needs to share them,” he says, making you laugh out loud and push him away a bit. “Jealous?” you asked. “Hell yeah,” he says, going back to working on your body, kneading your breasts through your bra.


It hadn’t been a great day for the members of One Direction. After being on an 11 hour flight after a 4 hour delay, the boys were already having a terrible day. Then they got mobbed by a huge group of fangirls, holding them up for another hour. Because of all of the delays, the boys didn’t get to go to the hotel before rehearsals. Times like these were when the boys realized that this business wasn’t all fun and games. All of the boys just wanted to go to the hotel and sleep but were forced to go straight to rehearsals and then straight to a concert. This ultimately put all of the boys into really really bad moods. 

Harry especially. 

Harry could not for the life of him ever sleep on plane trips. It didn’t matter if he was all cuddled up with Niall and dead tired, something about the vibrations of turbulence kept him up the entire time. And as everyone knows, a tired Harry is a grumpy Harry. 

Zayn, Liam, Louis, and even Niall weren’t much better off. None of them talked on the way to the venue, each too tired to think of conversation. Louis and Zayn were snoozing in the middle row of seats while Liam was up front, hat pulled over his eyes. That left Harry and Niall in the back. 

Now usually, Harry would be fine with this. More than fine, actually. Harry loved Niall and Niall loved Harry everyone knew— well, neither of them had actually said it yet, but that doesn’t really matter— and Niall was the perfect size for cuddling and his hair was always so soft but- 

But Niall had really been getting on Harry’s nerve today. For example: During the delay, Niall kept everyone up when Harry was trying to sleep (because he knew he wasn’t going to be able to sleep on the plane), just because Niall wanted to play hide and go seek and Harry was always Niall’s partner. Then again during the mob, Niall was just holding on to Harry so tightly and yeah, Niall has claustrophobia and Harry knows he gets scared but Harry is tired and can’t just carry Niall around whenever he wants. 

And now. Now, Harry swears Niall is doing it on purpose. 

Niall’s foot is incessantly tapping and he’s humming one of Harry’s songs and usually it’s endearing but right now Harry wants to kick him out of the car. 

But, of course, Harry doesn’t do that. He instead settles for glaring at his boyfriend, eyes narrowed and mouth flattened into a straight line. Niall doesn’t seem to notice at first, his eyes trained out the window. But as the minutes tick by, his eyes start to flicker from his boyfriend to the window and he soon turns his body towards Harry, stopping his humming and tapping to ask in a hushed whisper, “Everythin’ ok, Haz?”

Harry wants to say no, but instead he just settles for a curt nod. He notices Niall’s confused and slightly hurt look, but ignores it. 

Niall doesn’t hum or tap anymore after that so Harry considers it a win. 

The car ride doesn’t take too long and soon their dragging themselves into rehearsals. 

The other boys get into it pretty quickly, singing and jumping around like usual, but Niall and Harry are still moping around, skirting awkwardly around each other. Louis sends Harry a questioning look but Harry brushes him off, “Just tired, mate.” He laughs. 

About halfway through practice Harry sees Zayn and Niall out of the corner of his eye, both near the edge of the room. Zayn is hugging Niall, who looks upset and tired. 

Harry glares harshly at the two members who had always been a little too close when Harry was away. Harry sneers at them. Of course Niall went straight to Zayn the second Harry couldn’t give him all the attention he needed to survive. Whatever. 

After that Liam and Zayn start giving him weird looks, but it isn’t until after rehearsals are over that he breaks, “What?” He snaps at the two when he catches them whispering to each other. 

"What’s up with you today, bro?" Zayn asks, eyebrows furrowed. Harry rolls his eyes, Zayn is the last person he wants to see right now. 

"Nothing is wrong! I’m sorry I’m fuckin’ tired?" He says. Zayn’s eyes narrow at Harry, opening his mouth to return a comment when Liam interrupts. 

"No yeah, we’re all tired, yeah? Lets jsut do the concert and we can all go home." Liam says quickly, sensing the tension about to break out in the room. It’s a few minutes before the 5SOS boys go out to start off the concert when Niall approaches Harry for the second time. 

"Harry…" He starts, jumping when Harry spins on his heel to look at him with a mean look. "Um…" Niall tries, not quite used to this Harry.

Harry growls, “Did you have anything important to say or can I go back to doing something that’s actually worth my time?” Harry’s almost surprised at his own cruelty, but he forgets it as soon as Niall responds. 

"Harry, what’s wrong? I don’t understand why you’re mad at me." Niall whimpers, his eyes focused on the floor. 

Harry clenches his jaw. “Leave me alone, Niall.” 

Niall’s eyes widen, opening his mouth to say something, but he ends up just closing it and walking away quickly. 

Ash, Luke, Mike, and Cal do their part of the show with as much gusto as usual, absolutely killing it and Harry hopes that it’ll make up for the One Direction performance tonight because he knows it won’t be their best. The boys have about 10 minutes before showtime when Niall talks to Harry again. 

Harry is surprised he’s even still trying. Niall has his jaw set, looking like he’s actually gathered his wits this time but Harry cuts him off before he can even begin. “Fucking save it, Niall. Everyone knows that whatever the hell you say this time won’t mean shit, just like everything else you ever say. I mean really, do you ever shut up? God, you’ve been keeping me up for the past 20 hours with your meaningless bullshit. When are you going to understand that I do not care?!” Harry all but roars. 

The docking station is absolutely silent in the seconds following but Harry doesn’t even notice in his rage. He just presses his fingers to his temples, rubbing away the headache he can already feel coming on. He closes his eyes and turns away, finishing his rant with a low, “So leave me the fuck alone.”

He hears Niall’s footsetps practically running away and Harry groans, knowing that one of the other boys is going to come in here and beat him up soon. They had all agreed at some point when the band began that Niall was the baby of the band. Maybe he wasn’t the youngest, but he was the shortest and had the tiniest frame. Plus, he was a little more emotional and needed more affection than the others. 

To Harry’s surprise no one comes to give him a lecture about hurting Niall. Instead, one by one, the boys come into the station, all looking tired and emotionless. It’s two minutes before showtime when everyone realizes that Niall isn’t there yet. Cue the entire backstage freaking out. 

Of course, Harry didn’t really notice the commotion around him. He was just sitting in his position, trying to prepare himself for being on the stage for two hours. 

"Harry, where the hell is Niall?" Zayn asks, shaking Harry’s shoulder somewhat frantically. 

Harry scowls at the older boy. “How would I know?” 

Zayn scowls right back at Harry, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because he’s your boyfriend?” He says, sarcasm dripping off of his words. 

Harry stands up, shoving Zayn a little, “You don’t get to patronize me.” 

"I’m not ‘patronizing’ you Harry, what the hell? He’s your boyfriend, treat him like so." Zayn says, stepping away from the volatile boy. 

The next second, Niall rushes in, eyes red-rimmed and body deflated muttering, “Sorry, sorry.” 

With that, Zayn helps him up on the platform and he shuffles into his place in between Louis and Harry. 

Harry huffs, “Can’t do anything on his own, can he?” He thinks he says it on his breath, but Niall’s broken look says otherwise. 

* * * *

To say that the concert was horrible would be an understatement. Niall was basically silent the entire time. He told Dan discreetly before Little Things that he wasn’t going to play that night, handing the worried-looking man his acoustic. Even during his solos, Niall was uncharacteristically quiet. Louis even had to help him, picking up a bit more on the harmonizing. Luckily, the fans didn’t seem to notice Harry’s bad mood or Niall’s lack of personality. Liam, Zayn, and Louis were a bit louder and out there that night, letting Harry have his space and giving Niall his own as well. Zayn didn’t even try to act friendly towards Harry, glaring at him ever since he saw Niall’s face. Of course everyone could see the signs when Niall cried. His eyes would be rimmed with an alarming shade of red and he would be sniffly for the rest of the night. 

Harry shook his head violently, trying to get any thought of Niall out of his head. As the night went on and he started to wake up a little more, thinking about Niall and everything he said just made his heart hurt. 

After the concert was the worst. Louis, Zayn, and Liam had decided sometime in the night that they felt awake enough to go clubbing. Harry, obviously, declined. Niall looked torn when Harry announced he wouldn’t be going. Zayn glanced over at Harry and whispered something into Niall’s ear, something that made Niall smile a little and made Harry’s jealousy peek through the roof. 

Harry eagerly took his key card from the lady near the door and rushed into the large black SUV as quickly as he could, not wanting to watch anymore of Zayn comforting his Niall. 

His Niall, who he just called worthless and told to leave him the fuck alone- 

Harry shivers and buries his head in his hands. He suddenly hates himself. What the fuck? He had sworn long ago that he would never let anyone hurt Niall and here he is, being the culprit. Harry jumps slightly when the door is opened. Niall slowly gets in the car, whispering almost silently a quick apology. 

Harry shakes his head, trying to dismiss it, looking awestruck. 

Harry opens his mouth to say something- anything- but another door opens and the driver gets in, taking them straight to the hotel. 

The car ride is short but awkward. Harry spends his time staring at Niall while Niall stares at the ground. Niall gets out of the car quickly, quickly thanking the driver and jumping out to speed through the door. Fans are screaming loudly on either side of the gates keeping them away from the door, so Harry’s yell of “Niall!” Is lost somewhere in the midst. 

Harry hurries after the Irish boy, ignoring all of the fans screaming for him. Harry rushes to get into the elevator Niall is already in, catching it at the last second. Niall still refuses to look at him, his eyes looking glassy and faded. Harry just wants to grab him and make him feel better like he usually can. 

But he knows that this time he went too far. 

The elevator dings and the doors open and they both set off down the hall. Harry stops at his door, expecting Niall to follow him seeing as they had shared a room together ever since the two got into a relationship. 

But Niall doesn’t wait behind him, instead he continues walking and Harry, not knowing what else to do, desperately calls, “Niall?” 

Niall freezes, his feet seemingly stuck to the standard, cheap looking rug on the floor.

"Um- where are you going?" Harry asks and it sounds so stupid and lame and Harry mentally face-palms. 

Niall’s eyes meet his briefly before returning to the ground. “I’m stayin’ with Zayn tonight. Don’ wanna bother your sleepin, ya know?” Niall says softly, his irish accent thick and Harry knows that it means that Niall’s either scared or nervous or maybe both and that kills Harry. 

Harry shakes his head. “No… no… you can stay here.” Harry says, wanting nothing more than to apologize a thousand times and do anything to make the other boy feel better. 

Niall doesn’t look at him. “I think… I think it’s best for me to stay with Zayn.” 

And that sounds a whole lot like no and Harry hates it. “Niall, please.” Harry says, his voice cracking slightly, but Niall’s already turned and rushed down the hall. 

* * * *

Harry did not sleep well that night. 

Despite his absolute lack of sleep the 24 hours before, Harry just couldn’t get his mind off of Niall. 

Was he crying right now?

Or was Zayn with him? 

Was Zayn cuddling with him?

Was Zayn touching him?

Harry growled at his own thoughts. Niall wouldn’t do that. Niall would cheat on him, Niall wouldn’t do anything with anyone while they were in a relationship. 

Harry’s heart stopped. Were they even still in a relationship? 

Harry had said some pretty terrible things. He wouldn’t have blamed Niall if he wanted to break up but they couldn’t possibly be officially broken up if they hadn’t talked about it, right. Harry’s heart was beating out of control, panic overtaking his entire being. He jumped out of bed, ignoring the clock that clearly stated the time at 2:30am. He rushed over to the door, flinging it open and nearly running over a body in the doorway. 

Harry jolts when he recognizes Niall standing right in front of him, looking as if he’s going to curl in on himself. 

"Niall?" Harry asks softly, not liking the tears he sees in Niall’s eyes. 

Niall opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, nothing at all. At least, not until a painful sounding sob leaves his throat and Harry can’t stand it anymore. He grabs Niall into his arms, picking the smaller boy up into his arms and bringing him into their room. 

Niall is full on bawling into Harry’s neck, apologizing over and over again as Harry shushes him quietly. By the time Niall calms down, his breaths shortened into hiccups and his face buried in Harry’s shoulder, they’re sat on the bed against the headboard. 

"Kitten," Harry starts, the nickname coming out of habit. "I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am. I can’t even tell you why the hell I said those things to you. I totally understand if you can’t forgive me, because what I said was unforgivable, but please let me tell you that everything I said was not true and I was just saying whatever I could that would hurt you because I was tired. I didn’t mean any of it, none of it is true, you’re so important and I love you so much I’m so, so sorry.” He says, his heart stabbing painfully against his chest. 

Niall is looking at him now, his eyes finally returning back to their normal brilliant blue. “You love me?” He asks and Harry’s eyes widen before nodding vehemently. 

Niall rests his head against Harry’s shoulder. “And I’m not worthless? I don’t really just talk shit, right? I mean, Zayn told me that you just said that cause’ you were tired and I believe him— and you— but I just-” Niall rambles and Harry stops him, kissing his temple swiftly. 

"You’re so important, baby. You mean so much to the boys and the fans and you’re absolutely everything to me. And C’mon, kitten, look at all of the amazing songs you’ve written for us. Everything you say is interesting and amazing and you’re amazing and I love you so much.” 

Niall’s eyes are watering again but his eyes are happy and he’s smiling and then he’s kissing Harry, hard. “I love you too.” He says against the bigger boy’s mouth. 

"Thank god." Harry says, "Now can we please just cuddle and sleep?" He asks, yawning loudly, the tiredness from earlier returning tenfold. 

"Of course." Niall responds, but Harry is already asleep, arms curled protectively around the boy he loves. 

OK so um there’s that. I’m sorry idk how to finish fics :( 
Also I sort of have this thing for Harry calling Niall kitten oops 

Anyways, if you have any niall-centered prompts please send them in here 
I do any relationship that has Niall in it (zianourry and threesomes included) and I try and fill them as quickly as possible. 

Just an FYI though, I’m pro-bottom-Niall and top Niall makes me uncomfortable and it’s really difficult for me to write dominant Niall idk why I was born this way I’m sorry. 



What I’m Wearing:

Dolce & Gabbana Porto Polka Dot Polo, Theory Dozer Waffle SweatpantsVersace Collection Python-Esque Leather Bomber Jacket from Saks Fifth Avenue Chevy Chase and Puma sneakers.   

Hi Guys. So much has happened since the last time I posted an outfit post. I got settled into my new apartment in New York City, began my new job, and I attended New York Fashion Week as part of Tumblr’s NYFW Crew! The whole was insanity and I basically spent my first paycheck on cabs alone going from shows to shows. It was my first time attending the Made Shows and I completely felt in love with them. The space feels more intimate and the people were also extremely nice. Of all the shows I attended my favorite one had to be Public School. It was packed and everyone who is anybody in the fashion industry was present. The clothing were pretty incredible and I wanted to buy everything that walked down the runway. 

It was an unforgettable experience and I made some amazing new friends. Big shout out to cheapbesthidden, travelwritedraw, mariokroes, katinnyc, youbroketheinternet, ryan, whenislunch and valentineuhovski!  

After a week and a half, I am finally off this New York Fashion Week high. Onto the next big thing! 

Thanks to Erin Schaff and Stara Pezeshkian for all your help during this shoot. 



Collection // Haylor as Parents

*all the babyfic/kidfics in one post* [banner from the lovely lovingpurplestyle]

Ellie & Jack [all in chronological order, not the order I published them in]


Babysitting & Haylor Babies (Wattpad/Tumblr)

Pregnancy (Wattpad/Tumblr)

Baby [first year] (Wattpad/Tumblr)

Ellie and ‘I Love You’ (Wattpad/Tumblr)

Harry and Ellie on Tour (Wattpad/Tumblr)

3 Haylor Valentines (Wattpad/Tumblr)

Jealous Baby (Wattpad/Tumblr)

Walked In On (Wattpad/Tumblr)

The Oscars (Wattpad/Tumblr)

Kid With The Tattoos (Wattpad/Tumblr)

"But Words Can Never Hurt Me." - Artsy Zayn Smut

    One…last…loop of the shoe lace and now you could sprint across the lush green lawn and through the front doors of your high school. The swish of your tied up hair felt refreshing against the back of your neck. Knowing the big black and gold bow was secure and displayed in your ponytail ignited a pleasure in your chest and stomach. You felt very pretty and proud, the varsity cheer captain and ribboned in silver and teal to prove it. The charcoal skirt didn’t do much for the cold, however cute it was. But the excitement for practice, moving your muscles and feeling that power, was enough to help heat you up. 

    The halls are, as usual, hopelessly crowded. Skateboards and instruments and football gear jostled at the knees of students. Bits of conversations washed in and out of your ears, eyes taking it all in. You were a people watcher, an observer. Tristan always liked to tease you about how completely entranced you looked all the time. Just soaking it all up, really. You didn’t mind your boyfriend’s playful jabs. You loved him, after all…you did. 

    It was minutes before first period and that meant Art for you. Another jolt of happy anticipation coursed through your body. Taking in everything around you was so natural for you because it was your firm belief that beauty was in the details. A flat smile skidding across someone’s jawline in the lemony sunshine of the morning. The way a boy’s converse would contrast the grass, or fingers in t-shirts. Nerves and joy and lies. All in the details. And they were just too precious to lose in the mediocre "How are you today?"

People are so many different things. And you knew that "Okay" was never one of them.

    A pair of strong arms wrapped around your middle from behind, something he did all the time. Tristan had the things he liked to do, and do again. And then again. 

"Babe," he whispered into your neck, fingers squeezing the skin surrounding your belly button, over the thick material of the uniform. Your hands cupped his and your brain just pushed down that feeling. So you knew the meaning of the word predictable. Congrats, so did a billion other people. Tristan was nipping at the shell of your ear and you decided it was a good time to turn around, still in his arms. Your hands laced at the base of his neck, eyes meeting his. Well, they would if he was looking at you.

"Hey…baby…" You tilted your head and sighed as you watched Tristan gaze around the halls, a relaxed expression sitting on his sharp features. 

"Earth to Tris, hello!" The snap of your fingers and a tap to his broad chest was enough to boggle him out of his little stupor. "Oh," he laughed and finally looked at you. It was funny, the hands claiming you fully touched your body. The boy’s eyes wandered…

You chose to laugh this one off. 

"Sorry I…I’m just tired."

"Late practice last night?"

"So late."


And that seems to be it. Tristan gets a slap to the shoulder as a few of his teammates stride past you two, crude comments tumbling into the air around them. Rolling your eyes, you let him go. 

And the filthy little word predictable tugs at your skirt when he turns slightly, making to leave and join the boys in jerseys. He’s stopped though, stepping into a blonde boy in a ripped baseball tee. 

"Whoa, watch it there," Tristan mutters with a self-assured smirk. And it’s friendly. Except its not. He was the one not watching it. You want to let him know that. 


"What? Babe, it’s nothing."

The blonde is glancing between you two, brows furrowing at Tristan. There’s a covered guitar strapped to his back, and thank goodness that didn’t get hurt. 

"Well maybe…apologize…" And you hate that your voice comes out weak, soft. You meant what you said, and it shouldn’t feel hard to say that. Your boyfriend just blinks at you and clears his throat, then shakes his head. The scoff stabs at the bubble you just blew into the space between you three. You didn’t know that could hurt. Now you did. 

"Whatever, I’m off…" the blonde chuckles and you smile as your eyes meet. An apologetic one, on behalf of the boy rolling his eyes before you. You took a deep breath and watched him start to go. But the blonde isn’t past you both before he purposefully knocks his shoulder into Tristan’s arm. The only allowance he has with the height difference. Your teeth clench and another word comes to mind. Guts.

"What the fuck bro?" Tristan’s defensive whirl is instant, eyes cast down at the smirking blonde. The right side of your mouth tugs up and it feels an awful lot like instinct.

"Sorry, but you should watch it there.” The blonde lifts his fingers from his sides to ice quotation marks in the air. He’s smiling wickedly and Tristan is too wrapped up in this kid to even think about acknowledging you. 

"Fuckin’ freak-"

"Oi! What’ve we got here?" Liam, the boy from your Chemistry class shouts as he and two other boys walk up to the blonde, who is being crowded up against a locker by Tristan the next second. 

"Stop." You bite out firmly, gripping your boyfriend’s arm and pulling him back with much effort. His shoulder knocks into your head, his grunt must be his apology. Taking a deep breath, you look at Liam and the blonde. The boy on Liam’s right is the tall, curly headed brunette that transferred to your school late last year. Harry Styles. His pink cheeks and loud laugh helped to float his name around the campus. You never spoke to him with the exception of in AP History when he baked orange muffins for the whole class. You remembered because he had grinned from ear to ear like the cheshire cat and mumbled "Orange ya glad you took this class?"

The boy leaning into the blonde was Louis Tomlinson, and everyone knew him as the legend that convinced Ms. Mason the word twerk was the new teenage slang that meant the same as work hard. There was a solid month of Geometry in which every period ended with her motivational instruction to “Go out there and twerk, kids.”

The blonde you didn’t know. He was relatively new, but you had seen him gather together some students in the quad for guitar sing alongs and snack swaps. He always had laughter around him. 

"We were just leaving, sorry about that," you said sincerely to the blonde as Liam massaged his shoulder in a friendly manner. His lips were pouted and his eyes scanned you and Tristan. Harry was huffing out a breath, annoyed as Louis kicked at his old brown boots. 

"Just tell your friend to watch himself."

"Tristan for fucks sake, let’s get to class and calm down."

Liam’s eyes widened at that, stepping closer to Tristan and tilting his head in thought. “I saw the whole thing hot shot, some of us need to watch ourselves more than we think.”

"Fuck off," Tristan barks. 

"Hey!" Harry drawls, offense scrawled all over his soft features. His green eyes look considerably more fiery. 

"Listen to your girlfriend, ey quarterback?" Louis cocks his head with an impish smile spreading his thin lips. 

Tristan looks close to losing it, the veins in his biceps straining with his flexing muscles. 

"Babe…please.” You had to beg. Fucking beg your boyfriend to find reason somewhere up there in his testosterone-riddled brain and not punch one of these poor boys. Harry did look exceptionally built, as did Liam. But Tristan was 6’3 and okay, ill-tempered. You hated this. Hated it. Lowering your voice wouldn’t help with the other four right across. 

"I’m not fucking joking. Let’s. Go."

Tristan’s nostrils flare as his brows let up from framing his furious eyes. He steps back with the pull of your fingers on his biceps. 

"Name’s Niall by the way bro! Nice to finally meet ya!" The blonde shouts across the hall as you walk Tristan to his class. You turn to look, cheek against his arm, nails digging into his forearm. 

Niall is waving with a laugh bubbling off his lips as Louis slaps his back in giddy approval. Harry is trying to convince Liam to give him a piggyback ride, the other boy jogging to get away from him. All boys are in tattered skinny jeans and different shades of black and dark blue. 

Their varying heights contrast the bleak white walls, moving skyscrapers complimenting the other. As Tristan presses his thumb into your hip, mumbling a goodbye without a kiss, the bitter flavor on your tongue has an aftertaste.

It’s a bit like memories you wish would cast a warmer shadow than what your tongue is truly picking up. 



"Hey, y/n." Zayn Malik smiles at you, so bright and warm. He’s doing that really happy smile you’ve learned about, where his tongue presses against the back of his gleaming white teeth. The pink visible in the angles of his sharp canines. It’s so cozy and endearing. Your tense, tepid muscles relax considerably at his greeting. 

"Hey Zaynie," you chirp back with a mirroring grin. His blush at the nickname makes you giggle into the sleeve of your uniform. Zayn slides into his seat behind yours as the teacher projects the picture of a butterfly on a lily on the whiteboard. The lights are flipped off, draping you in darkness. The beam of light tunnels across the tops of your heads, everyone setting up their easels. 

"So, excited for the big game then?" Zayn whispers, scooting up to get next to you. You glance down at his careful hands as they twist the bolts of the easel into the wood. His thumb dragging from his ear piercing to the course bristles of the paint brush. 

"Yeah, I am…I…" but the big ball of air that Zayn helped inflate in your chest starts to lose its oxygen, your mood deflating. He catches on like that, just knowing you. Like…really knowing you…

"What’s wrong?"

"Well…today started great, I felt great."

Zayn is nodding, eyes watching the slump of your shoulders, the press of your lips before letting out a sigh. 

"Tristan just…"

And Zayn sighs now, and apparently doing so louder than he thought he would. You look up, a little shocked, his eyes displaying the same emotion. 

"I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to…" Zayn stumbles over his whispers for a moment before shaking his head and clearing his throat. His hand cut a line through the air between you two as if to start over. Begin again.

"It’s…Zayn, it’s okay." You tell him with a gentle smile. 

"I get it." And Zayn lifts his head in more surprise, this time at your words. You feel it in yourself as well. You let out a small laugh at how alike you two reveal to be every time you talk. 

"What do you mean?" Zayn asked softly. Both of your right hands lifted the brushes to the canvas at once. You could sense the heat on your cheeks just as the giggle escaped your lips. Syncing up once again.

"Well, I mean that Tristan can be…um…"

"Self-assured at a disproportionate level."

Your eyes widen as you turn to make contact with Zayn’s big amber ones. 

His face is calm and shoulders even. Not frowning but not smiling either. The word that pops into your mind spells out as involved


"Yeah…" Zayn mutters, his voice breathy as his brush strokes a fat stripe of red. He’s shaking his leg up and down quickly as he paints the wing of his butterfly. You’re watching him do it all, the sounds of others’ artwork taking over the stretched canvases waft a serene quiet over you. 

"I couldn’t have said it better myself," you whisper more to yourself, eyes trained on the linoleum floor under your white cheer shoes. Zayn’s black combat boots have paint all over the edges, soft pinks splattered the torn apart laces. 

"Yeah you could have. I know you could have." Zayn is gripping his thigh tightly, then releasing. His tongue is poking out and over his plump bottom lip, eyes glued to his blossoming work ahead. Suddenly the room isn’t so quiet as his words melt with your thoughts. The paint brush in your hand has been pressed to the canvas without moving this whole time. The thick, goopy green is slicking and starting to drip against the white. 

Your hand is shaking slightly as you watch the teardrop of color hit your shoe. 

"You’ve always been amazing with words," Zayn speaks when you do not.

"Hell, you’re so smart it’s scary sometimes." He laughs lightly. A bud of confidence and toasty warmth flowers in your stomach. You’re looking back at him. His eyes on the monarch he is creating by mixing his red with yellow. 

"I know you’ll find the words for your boyfriend one day and they’ll be…" he takes a breath, paired with a split second to decide which way the wings will sit.

"Spot on."


The game was almost over and as usual, the home team was in the far lead. The girls beside you with straight, locked arms. Fists punching into the air and legs working to point the toes. The bleachers were full of rowdy boys and girls in black and gold. Silver and teal. Their cheers in time with the strong claps of your hands. You smiled brightly at the crowd, occasionally turning to the football field to find your boyfriend, directing the players on the next move.

The last few minutes weren’t so exciting since your win was locked in by the second quarter. But you did see Liam, Niall, Harry, Louis and Zayn all step around popcorn bags and soda cans to sit in the middle of the stands, the game nearly over. You knew Zayn was friends with Liam and the others. Remembered him mentioning jokes that Harry had told that were “just awful”, his adorable scrunched up nose and eye crinkles punctuating how he felt. 

And here you were in the breezy summer evening air, laughing to yourself at the memory of Zayn’s story about Louis’ younger sisters pranking Harry. Something about a banana and a water balloon. You bit the heel of your hand, blushing like crazy and trying not to look Zayn’s way as the final touchdown was made. The clock ran out and the game was won. The crowd erupted in chants and cheers and you nearly forgot to shake your pom poms, eyes glancing quickly in the boys’ direction.

The words jumping out of your chest bounce into your head and echo throughout your skull. And as Harry throws popcorn into Niall’s mouth and Zayn listens to something Louis is whispering into his ear, those words sound like crush. Wander. Fit.

We just might fit.

Then Zayn’s eyes whip up from the bleachers before him and land right on you. 

"Oh shit," you mumble and lift the sparkly pom pom to cover the rush of blood to your cheeks. "Holy fucking shit…what is happening?" You ask yourself under your breath.

You debate looking over again, settling on insanity and are about to hazard a peek when Tristan’s arms are scooping you up off the ground with no warning.

"Whoa!" You yelp in shock and grip onto whatever part of him you can, holding on tight. He just takes this as an opportunity to smack a wet kiss to your hair, shoving the bow to one side. All askew. 

"Babe! We won!" He yells, so close to your ear and so sweaty. Before you can do more than send him a congratulatory nod, he’s plopped you back down. 

"Party at mine. Ryan is bringing booze, my mom and dad are totally letting me have the house tonight. Baby…" Tristan is licking his lips and tugging you in by the waist, knuckles wrapped up and rough against the sliver of skin you have exposed.

"Alright babe," you say with a half smile as you turn back to see if the boys are still there.

Tristan has walked away to go and talk about every single play he made. You don’t need to turn and see to know it for sure. What you do need is to figure this out. This…dilemma, with Zayn. Boy had you feeling like jelly with curiosity. You couldn’t point your toes or lock out your knees with the fuzzy tingle of his smile invading your stomach.

It felt like a drug.

And the boys aren’t there anymore. The drop in your chest runs down to your thighs and pools at your feet. You look down at the green spot on your shoe and have to bite your tongue so you don’t say his name right here, right now. 


No matter how many times you forced your eyes to focus on your boyfriend’s light green eyes and scruffy blonde locks, or his defined biceps and broad, strong shoulders…all your mind wanted to zone in on was Zayn.

Tristan was hammered, laughing louder than anyone ever should at his own joke, the red solo cup crunching beneath his clenched fingers. You paced the sips of vodka entering your mouth, past the hibiscus pink of your lips. The sting of the petrol-tasting liquid was softened only slightly by the watermelon juice you added. But you liked it strong. And after having to stand here and listen to Tristan’s over detailed play by play of him, you sure as fuck needed it strong. 

His house was packed against the walls with half pissed and fully baked teens. The air was crammed with the smell of perspiration and nerves. Why did you, a fully independent and capable girl, have to deal with this? Because you didn’t like it. No…you were not enjoying this. 

"Tris…I’m going to go…get some quiet in your loft." 

"So I totally told him to fuck off right? Fucker was begging to be wrecked!"

Okay. He didn’t hear you. Or, he quite possibly could’ve forgotten who you were. Just another face in the crowd surrounding him, goading him on and rapt with his meaningless slurs. Rolling your eyes particularly hard, you slipped out of the kitchen and pushed through bodies to the living room. The shitiest playlist of repetitive club songs is starting to hurt your ears. 

It was almost 9 o’ clock and that only meant the beginning of the night. A groan and ache in your neck pierced your chest simultaneously. It was physically painful to pretend any further. Panic circled the brim of your red cup. This isn’t me….this is not who I am.

Just as the dreadful feeling of unfamiliarity started to settle inside of you, the door swung open so hard it banged against the wall in the foyer. 

Liam is laughing earnestly at something Niall is barely getting out, a bottle of Jack in each hand. Harry is already nursing a frosty bottle of tequila limeade, to his left is Louis, tucking the sleeves of his black button up, bitting his lip piercing. And-

"Zayn." You didn’t feel yourself blurt out his name but you tasted how sweet it was rolling off your tongue. The alcohol was starting to crawl into the parts of your brain that fed the anxiety, shutting them down. 

Zayn was in his favorite muscle tank. The one you complimented several times when he padded into class wearing it on hotter days. The MTV logo is bright in different prints against the burnout black of the rest of the fabric. He’s still not shaved since class, the dark stubble lightly framing his gorgeous face. 

He’s fucking gorgeous and I want him to bother with me. 

The words sprint up and into your head and fucking heart before you can stop them. Zayn looks up from his boots and runs his hands against his thighs, and he’s wearing the black jeans with slashes right underneath his fingers. Swallowing and running your tongue across your lips, you remember how to breathe.  He looks right at you as Niall shouts into the room, somehow louder than the relentless bass. 

"This party is a fucking sleeper! The Horan Jack and bourbon shots have arrived!" He yells with crimson cheeks and hands above his head. The people crowded in the house all cheer and sing out their raging excitement. Fists clenched and cups sloppily rising to the ceiling. 

You’re facing all of them and they all look back at you as they step into the house, the door shut behind them. 

"Hey missy," Liam says to you, his smile kind. "If I recall correctly, you’re Tristan’s girlfriend, that brute who threatened Niall?"

"That’s not all I am…" And I’m not sure if I want it to be any part of me. You mumbled back to him, fingers tapping the ridges of your plastic cup. Your eyes flit back up and over to Zayn, who is licking his lip and biting it the next second, right hand kneading into his elbow nervously. His eyes blink away from your mouth fast enough to be missed. But you don’t miss it. 

Your heart jumps into your throat and down to your stomach. Underneath the black tank top you changed into after the game. The silver key necklace rested on your slight cleavage, chest rising and falling faster to accommodate the beautiful boy only inches away. The necklace was the same one that Zayn smiled at in class one rainy day. Asked if he could before reaching forward to rub his thumb across the silver of the jewelry. 

You remembered that while getting ready for tonight. That was why you trailed your fingers past the heart pendant Tristan bought you as an apology for forgetting your one year anniversary, picking up the key instead. 

"Of course not, love." Liam’s voice pulls you back like a bungee cord, all the other boys off except for Zayn. 

"I just…I’m sorry about that. He’s got a temper and is stupid sometimes…" You hear yourself say before you can think better. But you don’t fumble to take the words back. They feel correct, which scares you almost as much as it thrills you. 

You definitely catch Zayn’s little smile and blush. 

"Hey Zayn…" You mutter and inch closer, not having to think about it. The magnetic tug he had on you was powerful as all hell, whether or not he was aware. The chilled friction swimming in his eyes gave off the clue that maybe he was very, very aware.

"Hey beautiful," Zayn says slow and Liam is gone like magic

It doesn’t feel wrong. It doesn’t feel like he shouldn’t have said it, because he is all things right. All words that hit the nail right on the head, the same ones you’ve been aiming at for years it seemed and that sounds crazy but it’s true. 

He takes your hand in the middle of the crammed foyer, eyes leading yours to the staircase. Up to the loft you were planning on crying alone in earlier. The idea of crying felt miles and miles away now…Zayn’s palm hot and perfect pressed to your skin. His head cocked to that direction and you’re walking. 

You’re walking, you’re walking….Zayn’s lips close to the shell of your ear so you have a chance of hearing him in the raucous house.

"I’d like to talk to you, if you don’t mind."

You don’t mind at all, feet carrying you up the blue carpeted stairs quick. 

You and Zayn make it to the top and down through the closed door into a secluded hallway. You locked it behind the two of you and shook your head, leaning it into Zayn’s shoulder and giggling.

"No, I don’t mind Zaynie…" 

He laughed with you and nodded his forehead against yours, his foot kicking the door separating the loft from the rest of the house closed.

Tristan’s house had sound proof walls, the silence covering every inch of your skin. The blue moonlight gushed across the whole room, a big plush couch and fireplace. Your fingers were laced with Zayn’s in each hand, foreheads still touching. The beanie on his head rubbed to your hair, a static hum filling what little space was there. 

Your eyes are closed when Zayn whispers.

"It’s pretty serious…what I…what I have to tell you…"

"Me too, Zayn….I….me too." Your voice is trembling but you’ve never felt so sure and so radiant as you speak those words.

Zayn lets out a breathy laugh, sounding so elated

And as your hands tuck into the back pocket of his jeans and feel the lighter in the left, you know his tongue is pressing into those pretty, pretty teeth. 


His lips parted slow like a sugary syrup dripping off the edge of a sliver spoon, the thick white cloud of smoke swelling in front of your faces. Your pupils dilated, the pitch bleeding into the pigment of your eyes. The joint is loose between his thumb and forefinger as he hands it to you. He giggles.

"S’good. I’m shit with words hun but that’s it." He nods to the rolled paper climbing to your lips as you suck. His fingers pointing. 

"It’s fucking good."

You can only nod your agreement as you crawl on your bare knees, rubbing over the plush carpet. Tristan’s mother would have a conniption if she could only see her cream rug soaking in the smoke of the drug filling both of you up. 

You reach Zayn’s crossed legs and plaster your hands to his pants, the inside of your knuckles scraping against the dried paint on them. It’s midnight blues and almost grey purples. You arch your back patiently, stretching like a cat, eyes taking all of the boy underneath your hands in. You bite your lip, canines sinking in deep as Zayn gazes back hazily. He’s high but no part of the connection is lost. All the meaning felt between you two is only strengthening as you close your lips around the joint. He rolled another on your boyfriend’s glass coffee table, laughing as you nibbled on his shirt. 

It’s quiet and Zayn’s chin lifts, his breath twisting in a downwards direction as the hit curls up in his blood. Deep. You blink and huff out a sigh, an inkling of doubt breaching through the wall of your high.

"You must think I’m an idiot," you say. 

"I never could." Zayn replies easily, as if it’s the most simple thought to be had.

"But I…I don’t love him. I never have. I thought I did when he was nice and attentive but…" and you don’t like this feeling now. The tears enter the canal of your eyelids against your will. 

"He doesn’t deserve you. So breathtaking…" Zayn says, louder and more clear than his whispers before. He leans across the small spans of limbs separating you and cups your cheeks. The joint is blazing weakly in your hand on your lap, embers getting brighter as the room gets flooded with the night sky more and more. His eyes are all you can see now, the boy closer.

"I didn’t want to miss out on you. Not since the second I laid my eyes on you." Zayn shakes his head.

"Zayn…" You manage, body waving in small circles as he touches you. Hands dragging down from your jawline to your chest, hands resting on your breasts with such delicacy you shiver with pure want

"Not since I first spoke to you, baby."

"You’ve always…"

And Zayn nods, eyes darting down to your thighs and nose sniffling. Lips wet as he keeps licking them. 

"Yeah, pretty girl…I always have…"

And he leans in so your noses bump softly, nuzzling after a moment. His lips are almost there but not quite. The beating of your hearts have to be in time, not because you wish that they would. They do because it fits like that. 

Zayn closes the gap by pressing his drenched, sweet lips against yours, kissing you….fucking…finally

Zayn’s hands wind around your waist like a hiss to your nervous system, breathing life back into your body. Tristan kissed you with his eyes open, you knew that. Tristan said you were beautiful and never showed up that night he promised to meet you by the stream. He sent you yellow roses to ask if you’d go steady with him.

You once read that yellow roses meant friendship. 

Zayn’s knuckles pressed down on your hips and right into that little dimple at the top that Tristan never found. Right where your legs curved into your heat, a spot you would rub and dig into to make yourself squirm and cum. All alone.

Zayn’s artful fingertips went deep into that spot, sending you up and spreading your knees apart, bracketing his. Zayn’s eyes opened, his moan from the whimpers that fell from your pink lips. He clutched your hips harder and his fingers traveled to the fullest part of your covered ass. Squeezed.

"Zayn.." You moaned and pushed your body smack against his, now sitting yourself down onto his lap. Zayn leaned his neck back to look up at the beautiful girl rubbing down onto him. You whipped your hair to one side, opening your mouth to groan as his hands only got stronger and more determined. 

The joint was burnt out onto the plate you set it on in your haste to get onto Zayn’s legs, smoke marching up the periwinkle walls, nowhere to escape. It would have to join you two, then. “I’ve thought about this for so long. Dreamt of it,” he growls into your neck and starts sucking wet kisses there. And that has you throwing your head back, wrapped in the ecstasy of his tongue. He purrs hot and sticky against your flesh, licking filthy figure eights and nipping with his sharp teeth as he goes. 

"Yeah? I wanted you…I always wanted you," you gasp out when Zayn lifts your wet center off his hard on, only to pull you back down, your arousal crashing into his. You both moan loud and dirty, the music downstairs not heard but felt through the walls. Covering you two up and keeping you safe.

"Fuck…" He groans, long and drawn out as you attach your lips to his jaw, kissing the facial hair and all the way to his ear and behind it. You’re nibbling on his earring when he speaks into the otherwise static sound of your bodies writhing against each other. 

"I dreamt of your perky tits, your delicious lips, this…fuck…this ass,” Zayn is flat out wrecked, so gone and moaning out his words. You squeak out, your pussy twitching with more slick when Zayn’s hands slap each ass cheek and grip hard. Possessive. 

"Baby, tell me about it."

"God, I jacked off so fucking hard, came so strong to thoughts of those eyes."

And those words, those are the words that have you squirming up and shoving Zayn’s chest down so he’s on his back, you straddling him on the floor. Your palms lay flat against his pecs, his hands finding their way back to your hips and are then unzipping the side of your skirt. 

"I…I once…" You fully understand everything about this now. You always did, but fought it because you never thought in a million lifetimes that you could deserve your best friend. Zayn Malik.

"Say it beautiful girl," Zayn encourages.

"I love your way with words baby, please…" Zayn breathes with desperation scratching the heart of his voice. His neck is strained as he lifts it to get a better look at you. You never knew of someone else’s eyes needing your presence to see. Now you did. 

You squeeze your eyes shut tight. “I once fingered myself thinking of your voice. I came the best I ever had…”

"Ah shit.”

Zayn has you on your back on the plush rug and gazing up at him, eyes so big and legs wrapping around his hips. Your’e holding him close to your chest and whispering just what you want around the shell of his ear.

"Gonna suck you off." You say these words that nearly send the boy on top of you collapsing onto your heaving chest as your fingers drag the beanie off his head. You muss and tangle his thick black hair, the sounds he’s making between growls and moans.

"How do you make me so wild, y/n?" Zayn gasps when you grip him through his skinnies. His nails claw into the carpet by your head, hips bucking and stuttering before grinding down hard. 

You giggle and bite at his earlobe, tugging with the groan blanketing his skin. 

"I just can’t find the words, babe."


Zayn’s breathing was getting so shallow you started to worry. His chest was shaking with how much he needed it, his eyes not wanting to blink and miss a single second of the sight below him. With your palm pushing and guiding him, he was sat on the leather couch, legs apart and you filling that space right up. Your eyes dug into his lean and tight body as your fingers flexed around his belt buckle. The metallic sounds clinking shot a sharp tick of pleasure to your dribbling sex, the wetness running down your thighs. You rubbed them together as you licked your lips, shucking the zipper down on Zayn’s pants. 

"Babe," he drawled, completely gone and floating on a cloud of desire. Now both of you were left in just your underwear. You only had the emerald green lace of your bra covering your other half. "Let me baby…" He muttered while moving forward and unclipping the back. His bulge was so fucking massive, his clothed cock making the elastic of his tight boxer briefs work.

His eyes never left your skin as the cups of your bra fell the to floor, joining the skirt and jeans. The key necklace around your neck stuck to the sweat on your chest. Now the only dressing there. Your soft nipples hardened to the cold air around you two, and Zayn sucked in a harsh breath. His eyes gave off the implication that he could not believe this was real. 

"You’re gorgeous, y/n."

His hands fondle each breast, palms squeezing and gathering them deep to massage slow and delicately. He licks at his lips, little whimpers escape and enter your ears as promises. You didn’t know you could be touched so softly, like you were a precious gem found in the dusty sands of the wild.

Now you did.

"So….so beautiful it’s art, baby. You’re body’s fucking art."

"Zayn, baby…” you sat up and you kiss long and so perfectly dirty. Tongues lapping over the other like the first drop of water after being stranded for dead. Zayn’s mouth tasted of the joint and a sweetness you search your brain to find words for. Like a green apple just ripe enough to break the skin of. Like the spray of mist at the end of a hot hot maze.

You’re gasping right into his hair as Zayn sucks on the dip of your collarbone, so flushed and needy. Your fingers are scratching at his elbows, pinching skin and biting down on his locks. 

"Fuck! Zayn!" You’re a moaning mess, pliant in his capable hands, under his tongue. You needed him in your mouth as of yesterday and you’re ability to hold it in was waning quick.

With a blissful shove back against the cushions, Zayn is reaching up to eagerly tug at his hair, so worked up as you play with the waistband of his boxers that he’s reduced to sniffling out his moans. 

"Holy fuck, want this…need this…"

"I know baby boy…I know."

And you drag the underwear off his aching hard on and down to his toes. Coming back up you see just how massive Zayn truly is. It’s enough to make you speechless. For once in your life.

Your hand comes out to take him by the thick base, standing his cock at attention. It’s so so long and drenched, the fat tip shiny with pre come as it blurts out of his pretty slit. Zayn is sinking his teeth so far into his lip it turns white, knuckles the same color as he grips the couch. You watch his eyes and then his cock as you drag your hand all the way up to the tip and back down to the base.

"Shit b-babe…so…good." Zayn pants, his eyes catching fire and dick twitching out for more friction. 

"You’re so beautiful baby.." you say and rub him faster this time. His hiss of pure ecstasy cuts a clean line down your center and his tip leaks more slick just as your pussy cries for more. You’re now lowering your lips to his cock and Zayn sounds as though he might lose it. Breath fast and then so slow he could black out. But when you peek up as your lips press a gentle kiss to the head of his dick, you see that he’s still with you. His jaw is dropped and letting out the most filthy groans you’ve ever heard. He’s sure as hell still with you. 

"Such a beautiful, big cock."

He shudders, jerks even as you flick your tongue all around his glistening head and leaking slit. His girth is so wide and bigger than you anticipated but you take it like the last meal and you’re headed for the electric chair. His skin is soft and the curly hairs framing his cock are nuzzling your nose as you take a deep breath and deep throat him. Long. And hard. 

"Fuck!" Zayn gasps into the crook of his arm, you see him biting the skin there in a feeble attempt to keep his moans silent. His hips buck up, making you gag on his long dick. The choking sound is so obscene and gets you to grind your pussy onto the firmness of his shin. Your lips spread open, soaking the front of your panties as you chase the rub against the boy’s leg. 

"You alright?" Zayn asks, wheezing and swinging his weak neck to look up. You moan around him as an answer, sending him into another fit of curses and chills. "You’re so good to me, y/n."

Bobbing up and down, stopping to suck hard, catching the pre come he shoots down your throat and asking for more relentlessly. Zayn gives it all to you every time, whimpers and squeaks and guttural grunts fueling the hunger of your mouth. 

"M’gonna…baby I’m gonna cum."

You pop off with a wet sound, rubbing him to replace the heated walls coated in your saliva and his arousal. Zayn’s eyes flash open wide and he sits up fast, kissing you all kinds of desperate. He’s tasting himself on your tongue and it makes you so hot

"There are condoms in my bag over there. Zayn." 

You’re hands grip at his wrists, getting his attention enough so he can absorb words. So he can gather himself enough to get your purse and pull out the packet. His fingers are more sure as they rip open the foil, taking himself in his fist and squeezing. He’s so red and heavy as you help roll the condom on, so incredibly full. 

"Get outta these sweetheart," Zayn instructs, fingering at the bows on your panties. Your stomach somersaults and twirls at the name, filling you with so much light you think you could float with him above the street lamps outside. The party is all thumping bass and crashing cups below you, a world outside of a world you two have created. 

You do as you are told, his knuckles kneading into your thighs and then sinking into the dips that got you to moan every time. You clutch at his shoulders and mewl out in delight at the feeling of muscle to muscle. His wet cock slides against both stomachs as he works broken sobs of pleasure from your throat. His fingers easily entering the soaking svelteness of your walls. Two fingers knuckle deep and getting you ready for his behemoth of a cock. 

"Need it so bad. God I need you…always." You’re almost shouting it right to Zayn’s temple but you don’t care. His rings were cool and smooth inside of you and the third finger scissored you open just fucking right. 

"Right there! Oh fuck, yeah…" 

"That it baby girl? You ready for me?"

"Ngh…yes. Yes yes yes! Zayn yes…"

You’re biting down so hard on his shoulder you know the marks will be a mix of purple and red. Zayn growls out and stops fucking his fingers in and out, retracting completely. The emptiness is sudden and harsh but the next second is filled with his hands guiding his cock to your entrance. Your eyes meet and stick like the paint to your brushes….his throbbing tip catches on your clit before sinking….sinking….sinking.

The room is filled with the trembling cadence your bodies give off and into the air. Zayn’s deepened to the hilt inside of you and when you finally sit down on his lap, it’s all the beautiful words you’ve ever learned in your entire life. All the letters than screamed off the pages at you and shoved their way into your brain forever. The scary ones. The provoking ones. The utterly perfectly stunning ones  that made you love the details all around you in the first place. 

The nerves. Joy. Lies. You’re involved in all of it. Of this. You’re so perfectly full of him, Zayn still and shaking with the effort as you adjust. The frozen blue of the window sill and black bookshelf capture the words you can’t sputter out and throw them back at you. As they smash into you, they spread the heat of Zayn’s cock twitching all throughout you. A spinning inferno. You nod.

"R-ready. Go ahead."

Zayn pushes in even as he’s balls deep and finds a purchase right at your g-spot. Right out of the gates and lifted at the pulsating tip, nudging that delicious spot so it springs tears to both your eyes. 

"Oh god," you moan, voice breaking in half at the end. Zayn is nosing at your chest, long lashes tickling and bringing goosebumps to life. And now you start to move. Zayn’s breath is knocked right out of his chest when you start to grind and lift only to bounce back down onto his cock. His hands cover each bare cheek of your ass, jerking to touch at the fingers at your tailbone. They groped at the skin there, turning the same shade of pink on his boot laces as he helped guide you onto his aching erection. 

The pace you two create gets faster and more obscene, both taken to another frame of mind as the pleasure heightens. His cock slip-slides in and out of you from the wide girth of his base to the smooth rounded tip. Your eyes sprint to the back of your head at a particularly hard thrust from Zayn. 

"You feel fucking sinful, you’re so good," he’s gasping into the center of your throat, dragging his spit laden kisses up to your ear. "He didn’t know what he had…fucking lost the most amazing girl…"

"He did…fuck baby…Z-Zee…he fucking did." 

"I’m yours?" Zayn asks with gleaming eyes and parted lips, such a dusted rose from biting them so much. The sight makes you want to breathe until you pass out, so amazed and in awe.

"Yeah Zayn…and I’m yours," you nod, face breaking into the biggest smile you’ve ever felt. 

Zayn looks just how you feel. Overjoyed. 

Now your bodies rub and grind and slide against each other as if you’d lose oxygen without the contact. The desperate “Oh’s” tumbling off your tongue and Zayn’s repetition of grunts and gasps from his stomach indicate that it’s close. That knot in your hipbones is spiraling to your gut and all the way to your chest. His heart is beating sporadically against yours and he lets out the hardest moan yet. 

"Close…f-fuck…" Zayn bleats out and you shove your fingers into his hair, neck hanging down to bury your eyes into his cheekbones. "Me too Zee."

The choked out sobs you’re barely getting out over the foamy waves pushing you closer and closer to the edge are so wet. Wet like the boy’s huge dick that’s fucking you so damn incredibly you could only be his. Always.

All the words you could say and scribble in a panic to get down on paper and remember flash before your eyes at once. A lot of different colors compliment what you meant and there’s a cracked emerald to the word “compatible.” Sticky, satisfying orange to “peace.” Iced purple with a chill down it’s spine to your “hope.”

A blazing pinky red to the word “love.” 

"Zayn!" You shudder and writhe in his arms as the knot bursts through the confines of your body. The orgasm awakens every nerve ending, goosebumps screaming out just as you do. Zayn is hit by the wave just after, his fucked up groans and sputtering hips going harder harder fucking harder.

You cum on the condom and he shoots his white hot load straight into it, the sensation making you see spots against the pale blue walls hiding you two. Zayn’s hips are swiveling as he comes down, cock rubbing inside of you just right to take every last drop he can. It feels so right it’s no longer a question as you’re fingers slide down his jaw. 

Your eyes meet and you catch the cocoa of his burning a hole through the pigment of your own. Then you spot the smear of pink on his earlobe. You laugh, barely making enough noise with your wrecked voice. 

"You were painting earlier, weren’t you?"

Zayn rolls his gaze all over your face, mind full of deep thoughts. You could tell. You quieted at that.

"Yes I was…" He’s still inside of you and you’re still flat on his lap, ass spread above those ripped jeans.

"It’s always…pinks and reds…on your shoes…on your clothes. More than any other colors," you whisper, shaking fingers knotted in his hair. Zayn nods again, closing his eyes and opening them back up to hold you in the most magnetic look of your life. 

"I paint a lot about you."

The room is so quiet and your heart is just as still.

"I paint like the colors of your heart."


School is much more fun after that. You’d laugh at yourself for how simple it seems but it’s the truth. Tristan was passed out at his house, not noticing you and Zayn leaving together or the rest of the world for that matter. He got angry when you broke it off, but the hurt was more to his ego and not losing you. The predictability was something you laughed at. It wasn’t sad, not when you saw Zayn jogging up to you in the halls. Massive smile and open arms wanting you.

Wanting you. Needing you. Zayn made that so meaningful and easy and yeah, simple. 

But what your heart did when he’d lean over in the darkened art room and rest his head on your shoulder, or when he’d lay his body down to give you a place to sleep….that was something beyond the words you knew.

You felt it…oh…you felt it. And on a Friday in class when Zayn tilted his head at the punctures of sunshine yellows and minty greens on your canvas…you explained it to him.

"I paint like the colors of your heart, Zayn."

Liam Request: You're Pregnant and You're at his Parent's House

requests are open!

requested by anon

The first time you met Liam’s family was something you never expected. You and Liam hadn’t been dating for any more than a year, but an accidental pregnancy tied the two of you together. Liam promised to never leave you, and you promised the same to him. But, of course, raising a child together meant meeting each other’s families. Your families loved the two of you, and they had an unconditional love for your unborn child, just like Liam did.

The Payne family wanted to meet up with you and Liam again, and they invited the two of you over to their house for dinner. Luckily, the drive wasn’t long, since you were far into the third trimester, and you were due soon. You and Liam were prepared for almost anything.

When you arrived at the Payne Residence, you felt your hands shaking. You didn’t understand why you were so nervous, because you had already met them before, and they already liked you. Why was this so nerve wracking?

“Liam!” His mother, Karen, smiled when she answered the door. She hugged her son and kissed his cheek, and then came for you. She made a comment about how big you were, and how excited she was for her first grandchild. She welcomed you in, and you and Liam sat down on the couch.

After talking for a short while about things like the weather and sports, Liam’s father started asking Liam questions about the baby and our relationship, like what their last name will be and if we will ever get married.

Liam knew you didn’t want to get married any time soon, since you thought that even though you were having a child together, you didn’t need to be married to raise it. Liam’s father, on the other hand, was trying to get Liam to propose, because he said it was “the right thing to do in this situation.”

“You don’t need to be married to raise a child together,” Liam fought back, defending you.

“Well, it would be best for the baby,” His father shot back.

“How do you know what will be best for our child?”

“Because I raised you and your sisters, that’s why!”

“I think (Y/N) and I can make our own decisions, thank you.”

“I’m just saying, I think it’s about time you man up and propose already before you two break up and cause even more trouble.”

This set Liam off. He never thought of you as trouble, and he didn’t think that there would be a problem with the path that the two of you were taking. He thought it was perfectly fine that you two weren’t getting married, and he believed that if you two were to break up, it wouldn’t change the fact that the two of you cared for your child.

That’s when Liam left. He stared at his dad for a second, and without saying anything, left. You were stranded there without your boyfriend, stuck with his family until he came back. You texted him a few times to ask him where he was, but he replied with “i’m on a walk, i’ll be back later.”

That’s when things started to go wrong.

You felt it in your back first. It was a pain so strong, you never thought anything would hurt that bad. You walked yourself over to the bathroom to get some time alone to figure out what was going on without Liam’s family asking you if you were alright.

You felt it again a few minutes later, and you started to panic as your water broke. Liam was still nowhere to be found, and you were going into labor. You pulled out your phone and texted Liam, saying “Please come back, its urgent.” Liam called you right after.

“Is everything okay?” He asked.

“No,” You said, starting to cry and trying to keep calm, “My water just broke, I think I’m going into labor. Please come quick.”

After getting off the phone with Liam, you decided to go back out and find his mom, who would definitely be able to help you. You found her in the kitchen, and when she saw you were crying, she immediately dropped everything and tended to you.

“What’s wrong, love?” She asked, sitting you down and stroking your hair, “Is everything alright?”

You shook your head. “No,” You told her, “My water just broke, I think I’m going into labor.”

“Did you call Liam?” She asked. You nodded. “Is he on the way?” You nodded again, and she got you some water. “He’ll be here soon, and then we’ll take you to the hospital, okay? Everything is going to be okay.”

Soon, Liam came running through the door. When he saw you crying, he came and kissed your forehead, wiping your tears away. He helped you up, and the two of you headed off to the hospital, where you would soon give birth to your gorgeous little girl.

Heartbeat : Epilogue!

“My girlfriend and her family are her tonight, right over there.” I said, pointing in the direction of their block. “So tonight is quite special for me. She designed something really amazing for me that I want to show you all tonight.” I pulled up the short sleeve of my shirt until my inner right bicep was exposed, the now healed black ink scrawled across it as a beautiful reminded of who I’d lost, but I’d never forget.

“This camera right here.” I said pointing to the closest one to me. “Can you just zoom in on my arm?” I gave it a few seconds until I heard the aww’s chorus through the arena. “That’s for Gemma who I’m dedicating everything I do to from now on. But right now, I’d really like to dedicate our next song to Callie. You saved me, baby and I love you. This is Fireproof.”

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Thank you to all who’ve been on this journey with me. I love you.

Sometimes wings are all you need

Title: Sometimes wings are all you need

Pairing: Niall Horan/Harry Styles

Rating: General

Warnings: No archive warnings apply

Word Count: 1,480

Summary: The one where Harry’s on a rubbish date with Ben, there are too many Mozzarella Dippers and Niall might just be his saviour. 

Penny-pincher is probably a bit harsh, but Harry has no idea how else to describe a guy who takes you to T.G.I. Friday’s on a date and then orders the ten-pound unlimited appetizer deal to share. Harry loves mozzarella dippers, but they’re on their third plate now and he’s not sure his love runs that deep.

ambulant-icecreamgirl replied to your post:Hey guys, so I’m feeling a little down and…

*whispers* daisuga

Prompt: Write about a messy area in your home, workplace, or life.

"Daichi" Koushi whined into the kiss as his heel bumped into a pile of books that was lying on the floor. Actually, he was pretty sure that he had bumped into that exact pile a few days ago when his vision wasn’t blocked by the (extremely handsome) face of another guy. Daichi ignored the annoyed tone of his boyfriend’s voice and continued guiding the smaller man to his bed so they could make out in more comfortable positions, but it was Koushi that was doing the guiding. As much as he would like to, he couldn’t focus on the kisses that he so wanted because he was distracted by the things that kept touching his feet. It wasn’t long before he actually tripped over god knows what, and they hadn’t even crossed half the room.

"Daichi," he tried again, the syllables of his words being cut off every once in a while by the lips of the man he was trying to speak to, "when exactly do you plan on cleaning your room?"

Daichi just hummed, making it obvious that he wasn’t exactly paying attention to Koushi’s words as he continued to gently push his boyfriend backwards. Once again, Koushi tripped over another neglected item that was haphazardly left on the floor by its owner. This time, however, the stumble is a little more violent, and it forces the couple to stop moving so the silver-haired boy could regain his balance.

"Sawamura Daichi!" Koushi exclaimed, more surprised than irritated, and his boyfriend was forced to break from his love-stricken gaze to look at the silver-haired boy, blinking a few times.

"Huh?" he said dumbly, and Koushi sighed.

"This is literally the fourteenth time I’ve tripped over something lying around your apartment today" Koushi scolded, even though his arms were still wrapped around Daichi’s neck and their foreheads were pressed together. The bigger man laughed a little.

"You counted? Even though I’m pretty sure that is absolutely not the case, I’m flattered" he teased as he tried to steal another kiss, but Koushi wisely avoided the advances.

"Daichi! This is not a compliment! I am going to fall and die one of these days because you refuse to put something away instead of putting it down!"

"I wouldn’t let that happen to you. You only trip when you’re distracted, and that only happens when you’re kissing me, as you should be doing right now.”

Koushi sighed and looked away, mumbling “I want to but my life is kind of on the line here” as he surveyed the area surrounding his feet. Daichi just laughed and took his boyfriend’s hand, safely guiding them both over his piles of clothes, books, and other miscellaneous objects to their original destination.

Go for it

1. The meaning behind my URL

2. A picture of me

3. Why I love my bestfriend

4. Last time I cried and why

5. Piercings I have

6. Favorite Band

7. Biggest turn off(s)

8. Top 5 (insert subject)

9. Tattoos I want

10. Biggest turn on(s)

11. Age

12. Ideas of a perfect date

13. Life goal(s)

14. Piercings I want

15. Relationship status

16. Favorite movie

17. A fact about my life

18. Phobia

19. Middle name

20. Anything you want to ask

I edit the look of my blog whenever you edit my feelings.