If you were honest, it was all your
fault. You had made a comment to Steve
just before he’d left for the mission on the Lemurian Star about the stealth
suit. Something about the deep blue of
it and how it sat just right across his broad shoulders. He’d laughed it off at the time, but you’d
seen the look in his eye. And to be
fair, you were the one that suggested a way to relieve some stress and get back
at Fury at the same time. Which is how
you wound up here, pinned against the inside of Fury’s office door, legs
wrapped around Steve’s trim waist and hands in his perfect hair.
You never thought that desperation would lead you to such a situation.
a new era of peace welcoming the kingdom, there was no longer high
demand for a blacksmith in the city. Your father, who had been employed
by even the royal family, had lost his job. Your family had lived a
comfortable life in one of the richer districts. Now, you had been
forced to sell nearly everything in an effort to make ends meet. Your
father took whatever odd jobs he could find. Your mother became a
servant at the castle. Your siblings, older and more talented, found
jobs easily. You couldn’t bring yourself to enjoy the merits of their
hard work. You were young, but you were sure that you could be hired
somewhere. You couldn’t lift much, given your easy life, but there was
bound to be an opportunity lurking just around the corner.
opportunity, you quickly learned, was in a brothel. After moving to the
slums, there was one at the end of your street. You passed by it every
day and night as you searched for jobs. The workers, both men and women,
were clad in revealing clothes. Through the windows, you could see that
those layers were quickly shed. You knew that they made good money,
especially since you had seen some of the richest men coming and going,
sometimes even bringing gifts. If a wealthy individual liked someone
well enough, they could simply buy them for indefinite use. They would
be showered in jewels and gold, but they would never be truly free. The
consequences were too great. You worried what your family would think.
eventually came across an advertisement for a position on a farm. The
owner was looking for more help. The contract would last one year, give
or take circumstances. The pay was better than any other job you could
have taken, given your small list of skills. You would finally be able
to help your family. The owner would give you a room in the homestead,
so your family wouldn’t have to spend money to feed you. You would send
them money every moon or so to help them cover rent.
“Hey,” A voice rumbled behind you, “When’s breakfast? I’m starving.”
pulled yourself from your thoughts, glancing to the window. The sun
hadn’t risen yet. Meals were always at dawn, noon, and dusk. The night
was dangerous outside of city walls, so field work was only done during
the daylight hours. When you first arrived at the homestead five days
prior, you had been assigned as the cook. You did your job well enough,
save for a few small mishaps. The work wasn’t very challenging. The hard
part was dealing with the field workers. They were all more beasts than
men. Even the smallest towered above you, strong enough to lift you
with one hand. In the mornings, they smelled of booze. At night, of
sweat and dirt. But that wasn’t the issue.
You didn’t turn to look
at him, instead focusing on the eggs you were making. If you burnt
them, you wouldn’t hear the end of it, “It won’t be for another hour, at
the very least. You should get some more sleep. There’s still ale left
The floorboards creaked, the man moving closer. Your grip
tightened on the frying pan as you watched his right hand reach around
and grab your breast. He squeezed, then slipped his hand between your
apron and your dress. His fingertips found your nipple, pinching. Your
breath hitched. You swallowed the desire the hit him in the face with
the hot pan, instead moving the scrambled eggs away from the stove. His
other hand found purchase beneath your skirt, tugging your smallclothes
to the side so he could thrust a finger inside of you.
to push him away, but his grip was too tight. He was used to chopping
firewood and steering cattle. Manhandling you was easy for him.
even if you did manage to land a hit on him, you would be the one
punished. You had learned that lesson on your first day. After signing
your contract, preparing dinner, then heading to bed, one of the men had
gone into your room. You fought back, hitting him across the face with a
broom. When you went to the owner to report the worker, he berated you
for harming one of his workers. He was only in it for the money. If one
of the field workers was injured, they wouldn’t be able to work as well.
He told you that, also you were primarily the cook, you were also
considered a morale booster. Apparently, the homestead made more money
when the men had something to sink their cocks into. From what you heard
in your few days there, you were beginning to suspect that the owner
also partook in a morale boost from time to time.
The man pulled
you away from the stove. You wrenched away from him, glaring. For a
brief moment, you saw the scar that the broom had left beneath his eye.
He had told you afterwards, a hand in your hair as he pushed you into
the mattress, that he liked your fire. He kept talking, even as he
gripped your waist and fucked you harder. He had been working at the
homestead for years, but they had only recently started employing women.
first, Jenn, quickly became a favourite of the owner and got pregnant.
Still, you had seen her with the workers. She had been serving drinks as
you cleaned dishes when one of them pulled her into his lap. Her dress
was tight over her swollen belly as he tugged her back to meet each of
his thrusts. She made no effort in being quiet, though she asked him to
be gentler for the baby’s sake. Her contract was technically up a month
before her pregnancy was discovered, but the owner kept her on the
grounds that she couldn’t work as well in her current condition. The
very thought made you shudder. With the way things were going, you
wouldn’t be surprised if she ended up pregnant again shortly after
The second and third, Trish and Corina, were a bit
younger than you and rather mousy. They were intimidated by the men,
which made them easy targets. Trish, who was slender, was being to show.
Her dress rounded out just a bit when she stood up straight. The men
had laughed about it, one of them saying that it was obvious when her
dress was off. Corina, who was curvier and had a bit of pudge on her
stomach, hadn’t shown any signs. Still, you figured that it was only a
matter of time.
You, on the other hand, had only been working
there for five days. You had bled just before leaving for the homestead,
so you had a little while to think of a way to escape. At the very
least, you could devise a plan that would keep you from becoming a
permanent employee. You had quickly discovered that most of the workers
preferred a certain girl, though they would often take advantage of any
opportunity if in the mood. The one currently trying to undress you,
however, only had eyes for you. After you fought back against him, it
seemed that he reveled in the idea of forcing you to submit.
bent you over the counter, his stiff cock pressing against you. Only his
trousers and your skirt were in the way, but he would remedy that
easily. A large hand pinned you onto the countertop. Even as you
squirmed and tried to kick him, he merely laughed as he pulled your
smallclothes to your knees. He lifted your skirt, the cold air causing
you to hiss. Fingers stroked and prodded, rubbing your walls. You
reached back, trying to claw at him. The sound of rustling clothes made
you tense, only for him to brush against your entrance. You didn’t have
the chance to retaliate. He buried himself to the hilt. You couldn’t
help but cry out, unbearably full. When he shifted, you could feel the
tip move over your cervix. It made you shudder, blinking back hot tears.
It was painful, but exactly what he wanted.
He withdrew, setting
up a lazy pace. There was still time before the others would wake and
come downstairs. He could take as long as he wanted. Even if they found
you both in the kitchen, no one would do anything about it. If anything,
one of the workers would probably insist that he was next in line.
hand on your back lifted, instead tangling in your hair. A swift pull
made your back arch. You straightened, ready to slap him, but his other
arm kept your elbows at your sides. You had no way to fight against him.
Your jaw tightened. You swore that you could feel your stomach
distended by his cock, a small bump moving upwards and outwards each
time he filled you.
“Come here,” He grabbed your face, his fingers
prying your jaw open. He forced you to look at him, his smirk only
widening as you glared. His cock twitched, your breath caught in your
chest, “Give me a kiss,” His mouth covered yours, leaving no room for
refusal. His grip kept you from biting him, your teeth digging into your
own skin as his tongue entered your mouth. He still tasted of booze.
withdrew slowly, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his. You
pulled your head away in disgust, wanting to clean your mouth out with
soap as soon as he let you go. His pace had quickened, each thrust deep
and rough. You winced, hoping that he was close. The sooner he was done,
the sooner you would be able to clean up and forget it ever happened.
arm left your sides, only to hook around your neck. Your nails dug into
his skin, trying to pry him off. He wasn’t choking you, but just a
little more pressure would close your airway. His other hand slipped up
your dress, toying with your breasts. You choked back every whimper.
Hearing you cry out only spurred him on. He would only taunt you,
wondering aloud if your body wanted this, wanted to be taken and filled
and bearing his child.
His touch wandered lower, settling just
below your navel. With every movement of his hips, a small portion of
your stomach shifted against his hand. You forced yourself to stay quiet
as the end of his thrusts became rough. He was doing it on purpose,
trying to get a reaction out of you.
His mouth moved to your ear,
“I can’t wait to see you stuffed full with my brat in your belly. You’ll
be trying to do your job like a good little cook but they’ll be kicking
up a storm. A big, strong troublemaker, just like their daddy. I’ll
fuck you through your labor pains and get to see the look on your pretty
face when you realize that you can’t fight what’s happening, you can’t
stop yourself from having my kid. The boss will be livid. You’ll owe him
another year of work for giving him another mouth to feed. I just have
to keep you full until my last two years are up. Then I can take you
with me and make you my darling little housewife. It sounds like the
perfect retirement, doesn’t it?”
“I’d rather die,” You growled. He
pulled you in for another sloppy kiss, his grip and pace unforgiving.
You’d undoubtedly have bruises within the day and a bit of a stumble in
your gait. You pulled away from him, breathing ragged. His fingers
slipped between your legs, rubbing in quick, harsh circles. Your knees
quivered, then buckled. A yelp of pain escaped you as he hit your
cervix, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. You turned just
enough to put a hand to his chest, trying to push him away. You couldn’t
let him finish inside of you. You weren’t going to have his children.
a sudden pinch to the sweet spot between your legs sent sparks up your
spine. Your entire body tensed, more out of pain than forced pleasure.
You tightened around him like a vice. He twitched inside of you, barely
able to withdraw an inch before filling you again. He grinded against
you, each movement causing you to shudder. It was overstimulation on
your part. You were dizzy, even as he returned to tracing small circles.
stilled, panting and sheathed within you. A familiar warmth pooled.
Your grip loosened on his arm, exhausted. You could feel some of his
seed dripping down your thighs. You would have to bathe when you had the
chance. He let you go. You leaned against the counter, trying not to
fall. He removed himself, adjusting his trousers. You refused to look at
him, silently hoping that he would leave.
He smacked your rear, “I’m going back to bed. See you at breakfast.”
looked to the pan of eggs you had been making before he had intervened,
seeing that they were cold. You would have to start from scratch.
Note: Hello! Keira Metz here! It’s been a while since I’ve posted
anything, so I decided to start a new tale. Depending on the response
from all of you lovely readers, I’ll continue this. Otherwise, I can
whip up something new. Also, there may or may not have been some
foreshadowing in this one, ehehe~
A/N: I combined two requests btw. AND YES I KNOW I TOOK FOREVER. THIS IS A LONG ASS IMAGINE SO BE READY. Oh yeah Idk how to write childbirth, so if it’s not accurate..sorry. Lol anywaysss hope you enjoy (ITALICIZED PARGRAPH IS A FLASH BACK)
Requests: “Okay. So I was thinking what if we had a Grayson imagine where the reader had been best friends with them both forever. She gets with Ethan and she gets pregnant but Ethan dumps her and runs away. She’s left with massive anxiety and depression but Grayson helps build her back up and raises the kid as his own and they end up having loved each other forever.”
“Hey girl, hey. Can you do an imagine where Y/N and Grayson get home from the hospital with their baby girl, and that night, Grayson won’t sleep and he’s just kinda sitting there because he wants to protect the baby and he’s nervous something will happen to her? Make sense? Yes no? ilysmmmm 💕🖤❤”
Word count: 12,500 +
Warnings: Cusses, Birth, and this is extremely long so yeah :) OH YEAH LOTS OF TIME SKIPS SO PAY ATTENTION :D
“Y/N..you have to get up.” Grayson murmured as he poked your leg through the duvet draped across your body. “No. Leave me here to wallow alone in my own sorrow.” You retorted, however your words were muffled by the pillow that your tear stained face was shoved up against. Grayson seemed to understand what you were saying, but he wasn’t having it. “Get up, it’s not healthy for you, or the baby.” He reasoned and poked your leg once again. Becoming frustrated, you kicked out a leg at him and groaned into your pillow. He caught your ankle in one of his hands and you squealed. “Gray! Let me go!” You lifted your head up to look back at him. He had a devilish, but cute smirk plastered onto his face as he pulled your foot up towards his mouth. Your lips formed an “O” shape and you let out a tiny gasp. “You wouldn’t..” You whispered as Grayson cocked an eyebrow, “Oh, I would. Unless you get your lazy ass up and off the bed.”
“Fine! Fine! Just don’t lick my foot, that’s gross. Do you have a foot fetish or something?” You said as he dropped your foot, letting it softly bounce onto the bed. “No but Eth..sorry.” Grayson trailed off as your eyes darted towards the ground. “It’s fine..its been three months, Gray..I should be over it.”
“But you’re not.”
“I know.” You said, your voice cracking just the slightest bit. Grayson looked at you, his look said it all. Sympathy and pain, his eyes wrinkled just a little because he was frowning, his lips curved downwards a bit. He had bags under his eyes, he hadn’t gotten much sleep and that was partially your fault. Okay, it was all your fault.
Being pregnant was horrible, you were constantly throwing up or just feeling crappy throughout the entire day. So, when you and Grayson would fall asleep, you would always creep into his bedroom complaining about headaches or stomach pains. Or, he’d have to run to the bathroom to help hold your hair up.
So, he eventually ended up moving into your bedroom, it made things much easier but he still lost sleep. Maybe more since you kept tossing and turning a lot.
Grayson walked over to your side of the bed and bent down to your level, he lifted up a hand and softly caressed your jaw and cheek. He used his thumb to push away the stray strands of hair as your head fell against his palm, so he cupped your face. “Time heals everything.” He whispered. “Well time is taking an awfully long time to do so, Grayson.” You muttered as Grayson leaned forward. His lips made soft contact with your forehead and your eyes fluttered shut at the relieving feeling. His lips lingered for a few seconds before he pulled away. “Just trust me.” He mumbled and stood up. You sighed and looked down at your growing stomach. It wasn’t very big, you were able to cover it with some of Grayson’s T-shirts and his baggy sweatshirts, but you knew you’d grow to be the size of a whale, not being able to fit into anything. The thought made you frown, you’d have to work out a lot more often to lose all the weight and Grayson would consistently have to remind you that you weren’t fat, it was just the baby. Of course you being you, you wouldn’t listen to him.
Delicately, you pressed your cold palm against your belly and sighed.
A tiny human was growing inside of you, and it didn’t have a father…
Well it did..but he didn’t want either of you.
Draco rolled on his sheets, his skin warm because of the covers and the soft light shining through his bedside window.
It was good, those new sheets, that new bedroom. The purple curtains weren’t something he would’ve picked himself but being an eighth year came with its advantages and disadvantages.
He turned again, his eyes still closed. Having his own room at Hogwarts was something he would never have thought could be so great. The silence, the privacy, being able to come and go whenever he wanted. Well, not that he could wander around past curfew but even if he did no one would know.
Draco finally opened his eyes, the sunlight strangely bright for that time of-
Draco launched himself off the covers, his legs still tangled in the sheets making him tumble straight to the floor. He cursed again, louder this time, but who cares. He was alone in his room, no one to wake up and, oh well, no one to wake him up either.
So he was late, even though he was sure he’d set up his wand to wake him up.
Great, now his morning had everything to be even shinier than normal. He hated getting up late and had managed just fine to arrive to classes in time until now. He hated it because being late meant receiving unwanted attention from professors who already despised him and classmates who wanted him dead. Potter was usually the one to burst into classes after it’d already begun but all he always got for that were welcoming smiles and good mornings.
Draco grabbed the first pair of black trousers he spotted near his nightstand, putting them on while searching for his belt. He wrapped his green and silver tie loosely around his neck, his black shirt still completely unbuttoned. Draco cast a quick cleaning spell on his mouth, hurriedly heading for the door with shoes in one hand and bag in the other. The common room was most definitely empty so he would just finish getting ready-
A loud thud caught Draco’s attention, wand instantly in hand as an instinct. He should have expected, should have exhaled, turned on his heel and darted out of there because he knew he was just going to be even later now.
But how in Merlin’s name could he turn around on a Potter still in his boxers, black boxers and a Gryffindor tie hanging around his neck like the bloody corridor was an extension of his room. Potter looked up, his cheeks red and an apologetic smile on his face, something that only contributed to unbalance Draco more.
The blond was gaping, his own blood rushing to his cheeks because his eyes couldn’t stay on Potter’s ugly glasses, they had to aknowledge his shoulders, covered in tiny brown freckles; scan his chest and his stomach- fuck, Potter had abs, and his hips, Draco’s eyes could trace his V line…
He froze, closing his eyes like that was the only way he knew how to stop unashamedly maping the Gryffindor’s body.
He opened them when his breathing had evened out to find Potter doing the exact same thing he’d done.
'I- I’m late’ Draco blurted out, startling Potter who seemed to be unaware of what he was doing.
'Yeah, me too’ His green eyes fixed on something above Draco’s head.
'You’re always late, this isn’t- ’
'What happened to your hair?’ Potter took a step towards him, his shame of being half naked completely forgotten. Draco’s wand remained firmly secured in his hand, though he doubted he’d have the will to point it at Potter even if he had to.
Merlin, he was… hot. That was the word, there was no way he could lie about that. Draco was eighteen and gay and Potter was eighteen and hot and- and so Potter. He should turn around and run the fuck away from there, that corridor was too small for two people to stand at a safe distance and Potter didn’t seem to even want to stand at a safe distance.
He was still looking at Draco’s hair like it was made of gold.
'I didn’t have time to comb it’
Draco looked at Potter’s head, wondering for a second if the Gryffindor had ever brushed his hair.
The dark brown locks curled chaotically around the edges, falling on his forehead and almost covering the scar. His hair was longer than Draco had ever seen it, probably longer than when they were fourteen and Draco first experienced how it was like to develop a crush on someone.
When Potter lowered his eyes Draco could see only thin rings of green around dilated pupils.
'Why would you comb it?’
There, he knew Potter had never brushed his hair. That was be the best opportunity to mock him about it, Draco just needed to open his mouth and-
Warm fingers pushed Draco’s locks away from his eyes, his mouth already open but his mind suddenly blank. Potter was so close Draco had to tip his head slightly down to look at him. His fingers ran through the strands, pressing lightly against his scalp. Draco’s breathing became shallow, his whole body tingling with the sudden proximity.
'I- I need to go’ Draco’s hand reached for his bag as fast as he could. He darted past a surprised Potter on his way to the stairs, Potter’s fingers that were tangled in Draco’s hair falling to his pale neck, touching it lightly for a second.
He wanted to stay, fuck, all he wanted to do was stay. That was the main reason he should go immediately because if he felt Potter’s warmth against his skin for another minute he wouldn’t be able to hold back.
When Draco turned around to catch a last glimpse of Potter, green eyes met grey. He gulped, turning on his heel and heading towards their common room.
Despite being so late Draco decided to keep a slow pace. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to keep in his memory the feeling of Harry’s fingers against his neck.
Draco opened his eyes the next morning to find, fortunately, that he was on time.
He sighed, images of the previous day flashing through his mind. He got up, shaking that weird feeling away, and set out for his trunk.
This time Draco decided to go with his best green silk shirt and some tight black trousers - he was in a good mood after all - paired with a silver tie. He was about to grab his bag when Draco remembered he hadn’t combed his hair again, darting his eyes to the mirror hanging on his door.
It looked… messy, but maybe not in a bad way. He ran his fingers through it, pushing the strands back and watching as a few fell on his forehead. Okay, he could try that. His father would totally reprimand him if he knew but Draco decided to go for it anyway.
He closed the door behind him, his eyes already searching for that door opposite his. Potter’s room.
It was locked and no movement could be heard from outside.
Late again, he thought to himself, lingering on the first step of the circular stair. He looked back again, waiting for something he didn’t quite know. No sound, nothing.
He’s definitely going to be late.
Fuck, Draco looked at his pocket watch, confirming that if he turned around now he’d get exactly on time for his first class of the day.
He could knock, a small voice that sounded a lot like his mother’s resonated inside his head.
Draco looked around, checking if he was in fact alone before darting towards Potter’s door, knocking twice. He waited a bit, knocked again. No response.
Maybe he’s not in there, he thought.
Maybe he’s not feeling well, his other inner voice said.
Draco didn’t care, he should just go. But his hand was already on the door knob, twisting it. It clicked, easily letting Draco in despite a red alarm screaming inside his head.
'Potter?’ His voice was low but in the quiet room it sounded much louder to his ears.
The curtains of the only bed in the room were closed, but Draco could immediately tell Potter was there. His deep breathing told Draco that the Gryffindor was sound asleep, the sunrays making his silhouette distinguishable through the curtains.
The alarms were louder now but Draco couldn’t walk away anymore.
He pulled the curtains slowly.
'Potter, you’re- ’
Potter was on his back, a soft blanket covering one of his legs and his waist in a way Draco could see he had nothing beneath it. He was naked, completely naked under that thin layer of cotton.
Draco’s fingertips were tingling, his throat suddenly dry. He wanted to touch, but Merlin he couldn’t even afford to think that.
'Potter, wake up’ he spoke louder this time and Potter all but groaned in his sleep. Draco felt something boiling inside him, anger and lust mixed together.
'Potter, wake up!’ His hand reached for Potter’s shoulder, shaking him before he could stop himself.
A strong grip in his hand pulled him forward and before Draco knew what was happening he found shimself underneath Potter who had his wand pointed at Draco’s throat, a dangerous look on his face.
'Malfoy, what… Fuck, what are you doing here?’
Potter lowered his wand without a second thought, placing it on the nightstand, his expression turning into one of confusion.
Draco stood frozen, his mouth hanging open because the second Potter recognized him all the bastard did was relax, sitting on top of Draco’s thighs like that was the most obvious thing to do when you find your enemy inside your room.
And Draco could feel it. Feel it against his stomach even though the blanket was preventing him from actually seeing it. He darted his eyes up the moment he realized he was staring at it to find Potter already looking at him. He was blushing, green eyes wide open like he’d just realized the strange position they were in.
The thing was, Potter didn’t move, not off Draco at least.
'We’re late,’ Draco’s voice was hoarse when he spoke.
Potter rolled his eyes to what he judged useless information.
'Are those the only words you know?’
That ungrateful git. Draco tried to push him away, shifting his thighs in a way that forced Potter to grab onto something to avoid falling off his own bed. He obviously chose to grab onto Draco’s shirt, tearing up two buttons with the force of his grip. Draco gasped, anger boiling deep inside him. That was his abosolutely favorite shirt and now it was ruined. He was about to punch Potter when something poked him hard on his inner thigh, right beside his own crotch.
Something. Not only something, it seemed.
Draco’s eyes found Harry’s.
'Potter?’ His voice came weaker than he intended.
So Potter had an erection. He was hard, rocking hard right on top of Draco. And naked too. For Merlin’s sake, that wasn’t even the problem.
'Ah… Malfoy?’ Potter looked down and back up at Draco. He smirked, shifting again.
The problem was Draco was hard too.
Draco was hard with a very naked ass sitting on top of him to feel it.
Draco’s cheeks were on fire, his hands griping the sheets so hard his knuckles were white already.
This time he had no way out. Potter had that smirk all over his face and kept moving on top of him, like- like he was adjusting himself… Oh God, Potter’s cock was right there, heavy and hot against his stomach.
'Potter, I… we need to- Oh fuck’ Draco’s head hit the matress, his eyes shutting close as Potter thrust his hips forward.
'Do you really want to leave?’ He was panting, each thrust causing the blanket to slid even lower on his hips. Draco could see hair right below his navel now. Draco’s hands must have left the sheets at some point because now they were grabbing Potter’s thighs with the same intensity.
Leave? He couldn’t leave.
'I hate you’ Draco thrust back, the blanket finally sliding to the floor.
Potter moaned, his smirk turning into a grin. Merlin, he was so hot.
Potter’s hands slid from Draco’s torso to his biceps, forcing his arms above his head. He hold them there, something possessive shining in his eyes.
'Are you sure?’
One of his hands reached his wand and before Draco could even worry about it his clothes were gone. He moaned and Potter moaned, loud, needy.
Because the side of Draco’s cock was pressed against Harry’s ass, rubbing against his hole. It was too much, too suddenly.
'Potter… Fuck this is- ’
Draco flipped them, all his control gone. He stared Potter down, taking in all of it, from his swollen cock to his even messier than normal hair, his green eyes filled with lust and fixed on Draco, his hands, warm and strong roaming all over him.
'How did this happen?’ Potter whispered and Draco froze. Really, how did that happen? They were enemies, they hated each other. He was almost sure that Potter wasn’t gay and now they were there-
Potter smashed their mouths together, kissing hungrily like Draco had never been kissed before. They backed away for air, Draco resting his forehead on Potter’s.
'You don’t really hate me’ Potter said, still trying to control his breathing.
'I do’ Draco bit his shoulder, leaving a red mark there.
'You don’t’ Potter’s grip on his jaw was strong, forcing their eyes to meet again. Everything seemed to change, the atmosphere, the tension between them.
'You’re a nightmare’ Draco whispered against his lips.
'You’re a wet dream’ Harry said back, smirking.
Draco didn’t hate him. He had realized that only after the war but now he knew he probably had never hated Harry Potter.
When he bent down to press their lips together, it wasn’t rushed. They kissed slowly, tasting one another. It was sensual, deeper than before. Potter’s hands were on his hair, his fingers threading through the strands and pulling Draco towards him. They parted again but Potter kept placing soft kisses on Draco’s lips, again and again.
'Why do you do this?’ Draco’s eyes were still closed, his mouth brushing Potter’s as he spoke. Every nerve on his body was aware of it’s surroundings. Draco wanted to scream, stop the time because Potter made him feel like he was eleven all over again, powerless but a lot braver than he was now at eighteen.
Potter moved so he could speak into his ear, hands still on his hair.
'Draco, this is fine’ his words were softer than the ones ringing inside Draco’s head that sounded so much like his father’s. 'Scared, Malfoy?’
There it was, Malfoy and Potter, always Malfoy and Potter. Except Draco wanted this new thing now, because Potter was right. If he didn’t give a shit for the past Draco wouldn’t either.
'I don’t hate you’ he whispered, afraid the words would get stuck in his throat.
It was like an immense weight he didn’t know he was carrying was lifted from his shoulders.
'I don’t hate you, Harry’ he said it again, louder. They kissed one more time. 'Harry’ and again. 'I want to- ah, I want to fuck you, Harry’ the way the name rolled on his tongue was addictive. And everytime he said it, Harry Harry Harry, the boy beneath him would shudder, moan, kiss him again.
'Draco’ his fingers running through his hair. 'Draco’.
Draco backed away, turned Harry on his stomach and kissed his nape.
He kissed his shoulder blades, Draco kissed his spine.
Open mouthed kisses all the way down to his lower back, Harry arched to his touch.
His hands ran on Harry’s sides, one of them reaching Harry’s neck and holding him there possessively.
'You can… you can just…’ Harry turned his head to the side, his hands pushing Draco’s thighs towards him desperately.
'I need to- ’
'I did it yesterday’ Harry’s voice was hoarse and the words came out rushed. 'After we met, I…’
'You were thinking of me…’ Draco kissed the shell of his ear, his hips trembling with need.
'I want you inside, Draco’ Harry fingers dig in his thighs and Draco shuddered, a moan escaping his lips.
Draco reached for his wand, a quick spell smearing his fingers with lube. He found Harry’s hole, tried one finger and found it in fact loose already. Harry bucked against it underneath him. Fuck, he wanted to eat him up, take him hard. He smeared his swollen cock with the lube, aligning himself.
Harry arched his back again when Draco buried himself inside him, his hips hitting Harry’s ass.
'Draco- fuck, please… Draco please’
It was so tight, fuck, so hot inside him and the sounds. Harry kept moaning, bucking against him, begging.
'You’re so… Harry, Harry fuck’ Harry was shaking beneath him, his head turning from side to side, eyes closed and mouth open. Draco pounded hard inside him, as fast as he could.
It was desperate, intense, too much. They were Malfoy and Potter and Draco and Harry. And Draco wanted all that, he needed Harry Potter to remember what it was like to feel that fire inside him.
Harry came with his ass up and face pressed against the pillow that muffled his scream. He came with Draco’s cum filling him up, Draco digging his nails on his sides and screaming his name.
When he let his body crash beside Harry, Draco felt different.
'Do you hate me?’ Harry’s playful tone was gone.
'Are you s-’
Draco pressed his hand on Harry’s mouth, shutting him up immediately.
'You’re a Gryffindor, an arrogant prick with a hero complex. You’re loud and impulsive. Still, I don’t hate you, okay?’
When Draco removed his hand Harry had a frown on his face.
'What does that even mean?’
Draco rolled his eyes, reaching out for Harry’s arm. He ran his fingers there, tracing invisible patterns as he spoke. He liked to touch Harry, he liked it quite a lot.
'It means this is fine, doesn’t it?’
Harry closed his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.
There, that was why he felt different. Harry made his name sound like something… special.
'Will you wake me up tomorrow too?’
He snorted, hitting Harry with the pillow square in the face.
'What, why not?’ Harry gave him an indignant look that only made Draco laugh even harder.
'I can’t miss another class because of you’
Harry gave him a peck on the lips, startling him. It was so sweet he couldn’t help the blushing creeping up his face.
'Then I’ll wake up before you, Malfoy’ he gave him another peck, the well known challenging look in his eyes.
Draco smiled, realizing Malfoy and Potter could be as nice as Draco and Harry if he got to have him by his side.
Could you imagine Prince Adam, in his Beast form, actually telling you his name? Like, that’s never really addressed, and I think it would happen so cutely? Slay me.
It starts off just like any day, and the two of you are eating breakfast across from each other at the table. There are stolen glances between the two of you and he just so happens to get caught looking at you more often than you get caught looking at him. And every time he looks at you and gets caught in the act of doing so, he gives you a rather bashful smile, bends his head down and pretends to be invested in the wood of the table. He wonders for a moment if you were really looking at him or not? Something sets off inside of him, as if he were burning from the inside out. He had never felt like this before.
Setting down your spoon, you laugh quietly and pat your mouth clean with your napkin. His blue eyes watch you rather intensely for a few seconds before he manages to murmur out a small, “Thank you for joining me for breakfast.”
This catches you off guard but you accept the gratitude and smile at him with a gentle, “My pleasure…” You trailed off. “Sir.” Mentally slapping yourself silly at calling him that, you stood up, ready to flee the room before he had the chance to ask you what you had just called him.
Your eyebrows furrowed together. Had you just heard what you thought? Turning around, you faced him and gave him a look of skepticism. He looked back at you, his eyes now averting themselves from making any sort of contact with yours. His mouth moved as if he was rehearsing what he wanted to say to you next. “I’m sorry, what did you just…?” You started but got interrupted.
“I’ve got so many people addressing me so properly,” He pursed his lips. He truly believed he didn’t deserve that sort of respect. He didn’t demand it, didn’t need it anymore. “It’d be nice—” He found himself fumbling for words. “Nice to hear you… yes, you… Say my actual name. I’ve thought him to be dead, when this curse took over my life but you’ve somehow… brought him back to life. So please, call me by my name.”
You could feel your heart swell at the pure kindness of his words and the meager fact that he wasn’t sure if they were coming out as perfectly as they sounded in side of his head. “And that’s…”
“Adam.” He didn’t want to be a prince in this moment. He wanted you to look at him as if he were like anyone else. And you were one of the few who actually did such a thing. He swallowed softly and looked up at you finally. His eyes were full of childish innocence. It was obvious that he hadn’t heard his name in years as it slipped from his mouth with a bit of remorse.
Nodding, you breathed out shakily and smiled sweetly at him, “Adam.” You whispered, the sound of your voice carrying into his senses.
Yes, he liked the way that sounded. No, wait. Liked was a very understated way of putting it. He loved it.
phil's marmalade toast story and dan asking him if he brushed again was my favorite part ...
IT WAS SO GOOD there’s litro no reason i can think of for that to be dan’s first and immediate question when he hears about phil eating at 4 am other than needing to know if phil had been giving him gross non-hygienic marmalade-y kisses that morning tbh,, also watch phil’s immediate reaction to dan asking him that. he goes into a tiny frown and gives dan a blatant dirty look:
which jst makes me think they have had this argument so many times, like dan refusing to give phil kisses unless his mouth is as minty fresh as possible and phil being like, *soft voice* yr the worst person in the world, i hate u, but then hauling ass out of bed to clean his mouth so he can get his kisses,,, wow this is the grossest thing i’ve written but literally why else would dan care if phil brushed or not im jst wondering
Dearest Jalapeñokins? I was wondering if you could do me a favor if you are able and feeling up to it? ( I'm sick af right now..your writing gives me life) Would you please consider one of these things. A: Could I get some fluffy nsfw Jumin Han smut? ~OR~ B: What do you think the RFA +V and Saeran sound like when they're cumming? ( Jumin Thirst anon)
Why not both?
Hope you feel better soon, my thirsty friend!!
[NSFW] [SMUT] BELOW PLS BE WARNED
Okay, so first, what do they sound like when they’re cumming?
Yoosung: A whine or a stutter if he’s trying to say something
Jumin: Is usually pretty quiet tbh besides his heavy breathing, he prefers you saying his name
Zen: Guttural moan, this boy is loud
Jaehee: Cries out through heavy pants
Saeyoung: Moans your name through shivers
V: Whispers your name next to your ear
Saeran: Growls “Fffffuck!” or other curses
~I have to also tag @goddamnitdazai because she’s been asking for Jumin smut for e o n s here you go BFF.
Word count: 1.344
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” you whined through your mixing of the thick batter, the large bowl heavy in your arm as you paced the kitchen. You were trying your best at being a cute housewife while Jumin was at work. You imagined him coming home to one glorious cake, held proudly by you in your little apron. He’d smile with delight and compliment you on how delicious it was! But standing now, broken egg shells on the counter, flour scattered everywhere, pools of milk, and you covered in batter, this was not going as planned.
You hadn’t even gotten the batter in the pan before you heard the penthouse door open.
Please be a security guard, please be a security guard, you prayed to yourself.
“___, I’m home early,” Jumin declared before flinging his suit jacket on the couch.
“Shit,” you whispered under your breath, defeated.
“You’ve been busy today, I see,” he chuckled at the sight of you.
He stood just a few feet away now, wearing that slight grin that made your knees weak. His large hands fumbled at his tie, pulling it loose from his collar. You gave up, tossing the bowl on the nearest countertop with a sigh.
“I was trying to bake you a cake,” you replied with a huff.
“I think more of it got on you than in the bowl,” he laughed, “so cute.”
Before you could reply he had you pinned up against the counter. Looming over you he reached to the bowl behind your back, dipping a long finger into the batter and bringing it to his lips.
“Tasty,” he remarked after pulling it from his mouth.
“Mmhm, try some.”
He brought a batter drenched finger to your mouth, pressing himself up against you with a little more fervor as you sucked it clean. His mouth descended on your collar bone, lapping up the batter between nibbles. His free hand found your breast and kneaded with intensity as he licked your bare skin clean, grinding his hardening cock into your hips.
“So this is why you came home early,” you noted through a sly smile.
“This taste delicious, but I think it would be even sweeter coming from your lips,” he suggested.
He smeared the sticky concoction over your closed mouth before trailing his tongue over your lips and shoving it inside for a deep kiss. You could almost forget the sharp pain of the counter top pressing against your back as his tongue danced eagerly with wanting in your hot mouth. You were melting in his arms when he pulled your hair, forcing your head back slightly and popping off of your mouth to suck a trail down your neck. You were pink with heat as your breath quickened for him.
You couldn’t help but reach down and stroke his eager cock through the fabric of his pants, eliciting a satisfied purr from him. Your other hand sweeps over his chest. He feels so warm and solid pressing into you, and the fragrance of his expensive cologne is enough to make you quiver.
You both moan when his hand sweeps between your legs, grinding itself on your wet folds. It took all you had not to collapse right there, your hips swirling in wanton to meet his friction with a moan. The ridges of his knuckles massaged you into euphoria and you threw your head back with a sigh. He placed a quick and hungry kiss on your mouth before pulling away from you completely.
“Turn around princess,” he commanded while unbuttoning his pants, “hands on the counter. Do not remove them or I’ll have to punish you.”
You followed his command, leaning your ass out for him. He didn’t even bother to fully undress either of you. The cool air rushed between your legs as he pulled your dress up over your hips, hooking his fingers in your underwear and dragging them down to your ankles, pausing only to let you step out of them. He planted kisses along your legs on his way up, paying extra attention to that weak spot behind your knees. He trailed his tongue down your moist slit, relishing in the quake of your muscles.
You yelped when he landed two quick and hard smacks to your ass before seizing it in his hands to grope through your whimper. His legs kicked yours apart for him before sliding his length along your slick folds slowly. You pushed back against him, your whole body pleading for him to enter and fill you. “I’m sorry, my pet. You know I usually take better care of you, but I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he growled.
It’s true, he usually spent more time working you up, getting you wet and begging for him. But something in his voice and in his body language today was more demanding and eager. You could only nod before he forced himself into you. The shock of his thrusts and the feeling of his long cock inside of you caused you to lose you grip and slide slightly forward on the counter.
His right hand swooped under your belly and pulled you back into him roughly to meet his pounding. As soon as you were steady again it travelled down to flick at your sensitive clit, sending you into a frenzied cry of pleasure.
“Ah! Oh god, right th-there,” you puffed, fireworks in your belly as he found your spot and began hitting it over and over again with vigor.
Your walls were convulsing around him and you felt your juices soaking your inner thighs, the sound of his slamming becoming more of a wet slap as you drew closer to your orgasm. His cock was twitching and throbbing inside of you at the feeling.
“Do you like when I fuck you like this,” he spoke through bated breath, “when I make you my own?”
“Ahh, y-yes! God, yes!” you were straining to hold yourself against his thrusts.
He switched up rhythms, hips swirling driving into you at a slower more methodical pace. You lost it when his hand began slapping at your pussy, causing you to wriggle and thrash underneath him as the waves of pleasure came rolling through your every fiber. The combination of his pumping and stimulating your sensitive nub fueled your demanding side as you pushed yourself back into him greedily.
“Mmm…yeahh,” you managed to pull a moan from him, “you’re so naughty and eager for me, aren’t you,” he panted.
Your head was floating, your cheeks searing hot as a violent pleasure tore through you, moaning out as he fucked you through your orgasm.
He gripped your hair, pumping long and languid thrusts, stretching you further. Sure that he held you firmly in place, he released your hair and moved that hand around your chest, ripping at the collar of your shirt in order to dip inside more easily and grip your breast with voracity. His fingers were encircling your hard nipples before pinching and rolling down on the nub.
“Mmm…say it again,” he spoke through gritted teeth.
“Jumin! Ah, fffuck!” your hands flailed wildly, knocking the bowl off of the counter.
Hearing you moan his name shot him over the edge and he spurt himself into you forcefully. His hips smacked against you with a husky breath, hand still lingering on your breast before his final thrust.
Your head was hazy when he finally pulled away from you. With shaky legs you took a few steps, thinking you could make it to get the glass of water you desperately needed. But before you went any further his hand hooked around your side in a possessive manner, pulling you into his chest and brushing your hair back behind your ear when you looked up to meet his gaze.
“Where do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you yet,” he spoke with a fire in his eyes, “Let’s get you cleaned up, my pet. I’ll draw a bath…”
First of all tagging the birthday girl @superpaperclip Happy Birthday, I hope you like this and enjoy this and please don’t hate me if it is awful! I’m really besides myself that you’d ask me to write something for you for your birthday!
A fumble with keys, then a rattle as the doorknob turns. While no sound comes from the swing of the door, Neil enters the apartment calling, “Honey, I’m home,” and that makes more of a racket than it would’ve if he’d just slammed it against the adjacent wall.
Andrew, who has long since become used to this particular part of their routine, merely grunts in response. Their mocking attempts to imitate the horrors of heteronormative domesticity is something shared between two men who have finally found themselves settling into a relatively uneventful life, and Andrew cherishes it even if it isn’t worth the breath to say so.
Over the screams of the boring thriller he’s watching, Andrew can hear the clatter of Neil’s keys as they’re dropped into the little dish that the Boyd-Wilds children had made for them, the thud of the door’s latch being put into place, the shuffling of Neil struggling out of his running shoes because he always refuses to undo the laces. He flips through the channels as Neil stumbles into the living room, reeking of and drenched in sweat. His hair is half plastered to his face and half valiantly reaching for the ceiling - courtesy of that goddamned bandanna - and the only thing that Andrew appreciates about this particular image is the fact that Neil’s legs in those tiny short-shorts still look tantalizingly good.
Ways to Make Your Morning Routine Magical Without People Knowing It Is In Fact Witchy *BREATHE*
I know that some of us may be in the woods when it comes to being a witch, and you may feel this prevents you from being a “good witch” SO what this entry is about is how to start your day off on a witchy start! 1. Waking Up
When you wake up, do a very small cleansing. Tell yourself “with the new sun there is a new me” and feel the energy of the new day go through you from the feet up as you step on the floor. Acknowledge this day will only happen once, and make the most of it!
2. Bathroom Routine - Face Wash
You are quite literally cleaning your face, so why not clean your energy while you do it? Do a small glamor as well so others can see you only in the best light. When you wash your eyelids, have it correspond to your sight not being clouded by emotion, and stuff like that. Make this you! If you are one to wear makeup, have your makeup correspond to your intentions. Lipstick can be that you can be heard if a dark color and if a light color have it that you do not say things which may offend others by accident, foundation can be that you are protected (like a shield) or people do not see your true intentions (sneaky McSneaker you!) and mascara can be to see true intentions, and well, anything!
3. Bathroom Routine - Brushing your Teeth (you better brush you nasty)
You are literally cleaning your mouth. CLEANSE THAT ENERGY. Your mouth can correspond to words, so maybe cleanse it in the way that your words remain kind, and to give a boost in having your words make sense to others especially if you struggle to get your sentences straight. This can also be good for luck on a presentation that you do not mumble, you seem confident, and you totally did not just BS this entire thing last night at 2am (whaaaaaat?!)
4. Bathroom Routine - Shower (if you shower in the morning)
Okay, so again with the literal to psychic cleansing. But seriously, the shit you can do in the shower besides peeing wait what. This is a perfect opportunity to cleanse those energy points my friend! CLEANSE THAT SHIT. Morning, night, middle of the day, cleeeasne that shiiiit! Nobody sees you in the shower do your shit but do not waste all the hot water that makes people pretty pissed. You can also clean off the negative energy that is on you, and literally wash it all away.
5. Breakfast (If you eat it)
So you are about to eat and probably with family. No problem! Look at what you are having, and this gets easier if you make your own- but look at the ingredients in it. Food has magical properties - USE IT. For example, I had eggs with cinnamon (judge me and I swear to the gods above) Eggs, to me, symbolise protection and life, and “cinnamon can be used in magic for protection, prosperity, scrying, and warm, comforting love. Cinnamon is all about security“ (some website I found a long time ago). Find what your food means and incorporate that energy into your day!
6. Getting Somewehere
School, work, your mailbox, who cares? The simple way to make this witchy is get a stickynote, make a sigil for safe travels, and put it inside your shoe or in your pocket.
so, the episode 300% killed me dead. on the floor. so this came out of it. straight up shameless fluff. fluff without plot, if you will. anyway, i owe my heart and also this fic to @elsaclack and @jakelovesamy. title from first day of my life (thx a billion @jokeperatla omg)
Amy slowly comes to, blinking hard against the golden late-afternoon light filtering through her window. She can’t quite seem to gather her thoughts - unsurprising, since these random midday crash-naps are the closest thing she’s gotten to proper rest since the night of the trial. Her eyes are dry and a little red-rimmed, crusty with sleep. She takes a few more moments to relish this calm, taking deep breaths and steeling herself against the long night to come. It’s been ages since she slept properly, centuries since she took a true deep breath, eons since her bed, with its freshly washed sheets devoid of crumbs and spills and the miscellaneous junk that’s made its home in her - their - apartment, has felt truly comfortable or familiar.
She rolls over, away from the setting sun wafting through her half-open blinds, in the hopes of catching a few more minutes of sleep before reality sets in, before she has to put back on a pantsuit and reopen Hawkins’ file and pretend everything is normal–
–and then she lands in an unexpected warm spot on his side of the bed. It smells, quite unmistakably, like him. She groans, curling tighter into the blankets, because she’s had this dream before. She shuts her eyes tight, feeling that brief jolt of hope ebb away into the familiar numbness that’s dulled her mind for more than six weeks. She’ll open her eyes again in a second and the bed will be cold and she’ll get up and find her discarded blouse and Captain Holt will call her with an update and she’ll have ten texts from Charles about how to cry on cue for her upcoming podcast appearance.
But the longer she lays there, steeling herself against the evening of work to come, crouched around Captain Holt’s coffee table with Cheddar safely locked in the upstairs guest room and Kevin bringing out trays of desserts in which sour gummy flourishes are featured with an unusual frequency, the more she notices that something is off.
For one, the warmth isn’t going away as her mind slowly emerges from its post-nap fog. For another, the smell is different this time, tinged with sweat and the unmistakable scent she recognizes from the visiting room in South Carolina. She notes the water she can hear running in the bathroom sink. Finally, she registers the feeling of her too-clean sheets against her naked body, and her mind starts to catch up, first slowly then in a flood of images and memories that nearly overwhelms her.
After years of working your ass off to prove to your boss
just how good you were, you landed the dream job you had been gunning for:
working for S.H.I.E.L.D. You were placed
side by side with Maria Hill and worked the comms and surveillance with her as
the Avengers were on missions. This was
in fact how you met Steve Rogers, during a debriefing of a mission.
You were sat near Hill as Fury was at the head of the table
as the Avengers walked in, Steve Rogers taking up the rear. The second he came into the room and laid
eyes on you, you were a goner. Those
baby blue eyes, wide shoulders, thick arms and narrow waist. He was yummy and you couldn’t help but give
him a smirk. All throughout the
debriefing the two of you kept exchanging glances towards one another, small
smiles appearing on both your faces.
When it was all over, the two of you were the last to remain in the room
as you were usually the one to clean up.
This time however, the good ole Captain himself decided to help you and
you were ecstatic about it. The two of
you got to talking while cleaning and he asked you out on a date. Of course you said yes!
the villain's teenaged sidekick has a swearing problem. the hero tries to fix it. (either by washing the sidekick's mouth out with soap, annoyingly mimicking the sidekick every time they swear, etc)
“Okay - that’s it.” The sidekick squirmed and twisted and snarled, expletives snapping from behind their teeth. “Get the fuck off me - you -” they gagged at the taste of soap in their mouth. Tears sprang furious and embarrassed to their eyes, their body heaving. The soap tasted disgusting in their mouth, frothing against their tongue as they choked on the bar. “My kids shouldn’t have to listen to this,” the hero hissed in their ear. “Clean up your mouth or I’ll do it for you.”
The villain took one look at them, subdued, shaken, when they got back and stilled in alarm. “What is it? What’s happened?” Their sidekick shook their head, saying nothing, shoulders hunched.
Three days later the villain burst open the hero’s door, eyes alight with cold rage. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” How dare they put their hands on a child like that? “Are you fucking insane?” “Ah, so that’s where the foul language-” “Oh, you don’t have the moral fucking high ground on my fucking language you self-righteous little shit. Do you actually think that’s the fucking way to treat a child? What is fucking wrong with you?” The hero gaped at them.
A/N: Ok, so I’m working on A Broken Shoe, but I feel like no one likes it. So here’s a mini blurb dedicated to the hsquad because we stayed up talking about it ❤️
Word count: 874
Requested: Kind of?
Chest heaving, hair sprawled out on the pillow, sweat falling from her forehead. This is what Harry saw as he pulled his head back from the crook of her neck. A beautiful sight to him, slowly he pulls out from inside her, a whimper of loss falls from his lovers lips.
“Here Poppet, c’mere,” Harry tiredly grunts as he shifts himself to lay beside her. He turns to his side and brushes the hair from her face.
“Let’s go get yeh cleaned up, yeah?” Harry questions as he moves up her body that is filled with fatigue.
The two walk over to the bathroom, where once they step in, Y/N sits on the edge of the tub and Harry grabs a washcloth. While she starts to draw a bath, Harry walks over with the washcloth and two fluffy white towels. Checking to make sure that the water is at the right temperature, Y/N turns off the water and climbs in. A slosh of water is all you hear as Harry dips the washcloth into the bath water. A click of an opening bottle, he squirts out some cherry blossom scented bath wash. Rubbing softly the cloth soaked with water and soap, Harry begins to wash his beautiful girl.
Silence is all you can hear between the two as Y/N rests her tired head on his shoulder as he washes her from head to toe. Water moving signals the clean body, fresh from the moment the two shared moments earlier.
Harry reaches his arms out to her, silently telling her to climb out of the tub. Following his signals, she climbs out of the tub. Harry grabs the fluffy towel from beside him, wrapping her in the warmth. Kissing her head, he wraps his arms around her waist.
“Hope I wasn’t too rough on you back there love,” Harry whispers in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.
Y/N’s head shakes side to side, showing that she’s fine from the activities prior. Leaning up to the side of his head, she places a light kiss to the corner of his jaw. She places her head in the crook of the neck and leans into his hug. The two stay in this position for what feels like eternity for them.
Just standing there, embracing each other. Marvelling in their beautiful love and care for one another. Harry pulls back from the hug, placing a light kiss on Y/N’s nose, then her forehead, each of her cheeks, the place where her neck meets her jaw, and finally her lips. Each of these a lingering kiss, so light that they might have been her imagination.
“Alright Poppet, I’m gonna wash off. I wan’ yeh to go in meh closet and get dressed, yeah?” Harry questions her as he holds her face in his hands, not to firm but enough to have her look him in the eyes.
She nods in approval, and Harry goes to place a hard kiss on her nose. Keeping the towel wrapped around her, she makes her way to Harry’s closet. Overcome by mfatigue, Y/N grabs the first shirt she sees. Putting it on, it fits pretty large and is very comfortable. Buttoning up the few buttons that were undone, she heads back into the bathroom sitting just across the master room. Although they haven’t been dating for a long time, Y/N kept an overnight bag for times just like these. Reaching underneath the sink, she smiles at the tune that Harry is humming in the shower. She grabs the bag that contains her toothbrush and paste, hairbrush, and deodorant. Placing the pink floral brush in her hand Y/N raises it to her hair and slowly brushes her hair, careful to remove the tangles and knots. When the knots were all out of her hair, Y/N sticks her toothbrush in the shower, and quickly asks “Hey, Haz can you get the brush wet please? I didn’t wanna run the water and make the water really hot.”
“Thanks babe, an’ yeh I can, gimme a sec,” Harry responds chuckling at her consideration.
After the brush was wet, Y/N squeezes out some of the minty toothpaste onto the damp brush. Moving it around her mouth, she finally spits out the remanentes and swirls some cool water from the sink. Spitting out the water from her mouth, she cleans up her mess and heads out to the bedroom. Pulling over the duvet, Y/N grabs a pillow and covers herself up, waiting for Harry to come in.
Somehow, between the time Y/N got in bed and Harry got out the shower, she had managed to fall asleep. When Harry finally got into the bed, with only a pair of briefs, he chuckled to himself. Seeing his girlfriend with her hair pulled back in a bun, a light snore falling from her lips, eyelashes against her cheeks, and a small trail of drool falling from her face. The most beautiful he has ever seen Y/N. As Harry climbs into the bed, he notices that she is wearing his favorite Gucci shirt, smiling to himself, he closes his eyes and wraps his arms around Y/N.
bts react ෴ their s/o backhugs them in the morning
anon asked: Hello sweetie, how BTS would react if they were brushing there teeth in the morning and there GF back-hug them and rubbing there stomach sleeply? This so much fluff for my heartue 😭💜
sorry that this was so short ): im trying to get to other requests so that i feel less pressured when i get to do the rest of what’s left in my inbox. i hope this is an enjoyable read
⁂ seokjin: jin was half asleep when he got out of the bed to brush his teeth. his eyelids kept lowering and so he didn’t even notice that his eyes were closed as he continued to thoroughly clean his mouth. jin’s movements were slow and lazy, and his head hung low above the sink when he was ready to spit out his toothpaste. while rinsing his mouth, he felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around his waist and a chin poke at his shoulder. a smile had made its way onto his lips as he washed his face, your hand lightly patting at his stomach while you buried your face against his back.
⁂ namjoon: at first, namjoon was sleepy when he began to brush his teeth, but once he witnessed you entering the bathroom, he became wide awake. he gazed at you through the mirror and with a fond smile, he rinsed his mouth and brush when you bumped into his back, only to wrap your arms around him when you realized who it was. his heart swelled as you waited for him to finish freshening up, and even swished mouthwash longer than necessary to have you brushing your fingers along his stomach under his shirt just for a few more seconds. when he was done, he turned around and hugged you to his chest.
⁂ yoongi: yoongi wasn’t one to be disturbed in the morning as he was doing something, but he was quite pleased when he felt your body curl around his back as he brushed his teeth. the warmth of your body against his was a comforting feeling and he relished in the moment whenever you decided to give him an embrace. as he hummed to himself, he let go of the bathroom counter to pet your hand that was on his stomach, moving in a circling motion. you kept rubbing his stomach while you rested your head on his back so that you wouldn’t fall asleep against him, and yoongi found himself smiling happily, his toothbrush hanging from his mouth as he gazed at your messy hair that was poking out from behind his shoulder.
⁂ hoseok: “mm – hello.” he’d say with mirth in his eyes. his vision was still a bit bleary from waking up from his comfortable slumber, but he still managed to place his gaze on your messy bed hair, your arms snug around his waist as he pushed his hair back from his forehead. there was a fond smile on his face as he looked at you through the mirror. a sleepy pout made an appearance on your pretty visage as you rubbed hoseok’s stomach to keep yourself awake and the only thing your boyfriend could do was laugh and finish brushing his teeth before he’s turning around to crush you in a loving hug.
⁂ taehyung: taehyung was leaning back against the bathroom counter as he brushed his teeth so when you walked inside the bathroom, the boy was nearly attacked with a mouthful of your hair when you launched yourself at him. you buried your face against his chest with a sigh and grumbled as he pet the back of your head with an amused chuckle. “i missed you.” you had said which only resulted in a raspy hum as a response from your boyfriend. when you loosened your arms around him, he turned around to rinse his mouth and finish washing his face. out of habit, you rubbed taehyung’s stomach as it flexed when he yawned. with a lopsided smile, he turned around again and pet your head, kissing your forehead. “nae sarang, joeun ahchim. (good morning, my love)”
⁂ jimin: “that tickles,” he whines through brushing his teeth as your fingertips brushed along his tummy. with a little squirm, jimin tried to get you to release him by swaying side to side, but to no avail. you were stuck to his back like tape and you weren’t letting go of him soon. his backside was so comfortable to you and you couldn’t find it in you to release your boyfriend from your arms. he grumbled to himself as you lovingly kissed his shoulder blade, your hands happily rubbing at jimin’s tummy as you squished your cheek against his shirt. once he rinsed his mouth and dried his face off, he turned around and attacked you with kisses so that you would get distracted enough to stop touching his stomach.
⁂ jungkook: with his hand gripping the edge of the counter, jungkook brushed his hair back from his forehead while thoroughly cleaning his teeth with his brush. bobbing his head to a beat that was stuck inside his head, you had walked inside the bathroom so that you wouldn’t scare him because of a sudden noise. with his back faced you, you sighed happily to yourself and slowly leaned and rested there, your arms loosely curled above his hips. he looked down curiously to see what was going on and with a smile slowly gracing his features. he rested his hand on top of yours that was rubbing his stomach and with one hand, somehow rinsed his mouth and washed his face before turning around to bring you into a comfortable embrace.