for now i want to hold this warm hand of yours

Good Girls Go Bad

Set in the 40’s. Y/N was your stereotypical girl next door, growing up in the apartment right across the hall from James Buchanan Barnes. She had always been the shy, reserved girl; she was the complete opposite of the enigmatic ladies man. Despite their proximity, she was sure that he didn’t even know she existed. What happens when they run into one another during a night out on the town? Is just one night all it really takes? 

Word Count: 3,408

Warnings: swearing, smut


Originally posted by evanstansource


You sighed, adjusting your dress as you gazed into the mirror. Even though it was still rather conservative, you couldn’t help but notice that it was more revealing than you were used to. The neckline plunged rather low, the collar fastened with a bow that drew attention to your cleavage. The waist was cinched, showing off your figure. Paired with the red heels that your friends had chosen for you, you were looking like a regular bombshell. Your friends had insisted that you go out with them tonight. You had turned them down too many times. They said that now, of all days, you had to accompany them. The newest army recruits would be shipping out tomorrow, and it was sure to be a lively night.

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Our Bodies (M)

Pairing:  Namjoon x Yoongi x Jooheon x Reader

Genre: Smut, Tattoo(Artist)!AU

Word Count: 9,7k

Warnings: Rough sex, FOURSOME, Punishment Kink, slight Over-stimulation, mentions Alcohol, mentions Tattoos, and well everything that a foursome includes.

“Hm… which tattoo shop is still open?”

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Something Worth Fighting For- 1

Summary: You’ve just begun to settle into life as an Avenger when a mission gone awry divides the team in half, and a familiar face shows up just in time to make you second guess your every choice.

Words: 1303

Masterlist

Originally posted by i-alwayslikedstrangecharacters

People once believed that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes, something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can’t rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes, the crow can bring that soul back to put the wrong things right. -The Crow, 1994

Brooklyn. 1946.

The cemetery was a snow globe. Someone had wrapped it in their hands, blocking out all traces of sunlight behind the deep grey clouds, and shaken it. Snow swirled through the air, between the slender claws of the dead trees, and dragged across the faces of black, slick stones. The wind hissed in your ear, stung the exposed flesh between your hat and the collar of your jacket. Kissed the places that had not been touched by warm hands in nearly a year.

There was nothing special about the dull, grey rock in front of you. There was a name, etched into its face, that had been filled with snow which only served to make the letters stand out more. It was a formality more than anything, the headstone. There was no body to be buried, no casket to lower into the ground.

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With All My Heart - Part 5

Word Count: 2267

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol use 

A/N: Unbeta’d. All mistakes are mine. This isn’t really up to my typical standards. My writing is kinda sucking, especially lately. I dunno, guys.  

Again, tags are closed for this series but you are welcome to turn on post notifications or follow my writing blog @torn-and-frayed-writes for updates.

Feedback and constructive criticism always welcome

With All My Heart Masterlist


“So how do you wanna do this?” Jensen and you were currently sitting in the airport trying to figure out how best to go about bringing your relationship public. He knew you had reservations about it, you’d discussed them at length with him, but you knew it couldn’t stay a secret forever. You didn’t want it to be a secret. He assured you he didn’t have the same swarms of media attention that a lot of celebrities had. He kept his life private, and he’d certainly demonstrated that. He never had paparazzi following him around since you’d been together.

“What are the options?”

“Well, we could just wait until JIB and I could talk about you, bring you out on stage if you’re comfortable.” Jensen said. “Or we could take a picture together, post it and then explain more at the con. Then it’s not a huge surprise.”

“I kinda like option B.” You decided. “Plus, some of the people who follow you have probably seen me in pictures from San Jac’s Facebook and Instagram so maybe that’ll help? I don’t know. I’m so nervous.” You started ringing your hands together, forcing Jensen to grab them and pull them apart.

“It’s gonna be fine, Y/N.” He tried to reassure you, running one hand through your hair. “For every one person who says mean things about you another 10 or more are gonna stick up for you, including me.” You cast your eyes downward, staring at the floor and shifting your feet. “That’s not all that’s bothering you, is it?”

“No.” You whispered. “We’ve only really known each other a few weeks…I just…what if…”

“Stop talking.” Jensen leaned in and kissed you, smiling as he shut you up.

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Hello! I was reading the part of War and Peace that Great Comet was based on and decided to make a list of all the phrases/sentences in the novel that I found while listening along to the cast recording while reading that are either directly put into the lyrics of the musical, or are heavily referenced with a few changes. I have separated these findings by song, not in the order of which they appear in the novel. For some of the lines that are less directly from the novel I have put the lyrics that are connected to them in parentheses and italics next to the book quotes. It’s really really really fun to see which lyrics have a match so I hope you enjoy!

Also sorry for any formatting issues: in some songs there are huge chunks that are almost directly lifted from the book so some placement of bullet points might be wonky. And if you know of any that I missed, please reblog and add! 

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Nine Months - Harry Styles Imagine

No piece of mine has never had as much interest surrounding it as this one has, so thank you for expressing your excitement to me. I hope you’ll find it was worth the wait. (Protip: if you’re reading on mobile, ditch the app and read on Safari or Chrome instead, as the app is prone to close on longer pieces of text).

This one is dedicated to @permanentcross, simply because she’s the best. E has listened to me ramble on and on about this story for longer than anyone should have to. She’s the inspiration behind many things beneath the cut, all of which I will leave up to your own interpretation. 

Without further adieu, I present you with Nine Months…

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That Really Happened (M)

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word count: 2,864

Summary: You and Jungkook have been best friends since you were little kids, but it turns out that the games you used to play together have different results as adults.

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Why does everything turn into wolfstar smut?

Originally posted by maria-tries

  • Maybe some time around the age of 16 Remus’s transformations stop leaving him weak and hollow
  • In fact, they start to have the opposite effect 
  • Not that Remus notices; as usual his brilliant mind is always quietly occupied
  • But Sirius notices
  • Merlin Sirius notices
  • It starts with his shoulders, he can’t help but eye the way they sit a little broader when Remus stands up straight 
  • Then it’s his forearms, Sirius can see the tendons stand out a little when Remus lies on the sofa and holds his book above his head. 
  • After the next full moon, it’s his biceps - they start pushing against his shirt when he leans over his potions essay, and Sirius’s mouth all but drops to the floor
  • Suddenly it’s hard to be around Remus, literally, without feeling a tightness growing in his trousers
  • The boys sit opposite each other in the library for hours, an endless pile of homework and exam prep leaving them caught in a dizzying cycle of work, eat, sleep
  • They all need some relief, but fuck Sirius needs a very specific kind of relief
  • Exams are so close, and he has to focus, but just a look at Remus could flick a switch in his body
  • Even his hands, somehow his hands look bigger, stronger
  • Sirius starts biting down hard on his lip each time his eyes drift to his boyfriend in class, or the library, or the common room (okay, just about everywhere)
  • But after half a day his bottom lip becomes red and puffy
  • Instead Sirius finds himself disappearing to the toilets to splash cold water on his face more often than he’d like to admit
  • When Remus’s arm winds protectively around him as they walk down a busy corridor, he has to bite back a whine
  • And when Remus strolls out of the shower one morning, a towel slung low around his hips, Sirius just sits and stares 
  • Because his chest, Christ his chest has transformed
  • And it was all Sirius could do not to go over there and beg Remus to deal with his painfully hard arousal, right there in front of James and Peter
  • And when Remus caught him, eyes roving greedily across his bare skin and freshly tousled hair, he just stared right back and winked
  • Sirius rolled over in bed and bit down so hard on his pillow he could have torn it apart
  • This day was particularly torturous, and it didn’t help that the summer heat had Remus loosening the top few buttons of his shirt
  • Or that, in transfiguration, his hand had been resting high on Sirius’s thigh the whole time Frank was explaining petrification. 
  • Or that, as they walked to the library, Remus slid Sirius’s bag from his shoulder and slung it easily across his own, winding an arm around his waist 
  • By time they sat down Sirius was almost at breaking point, his frustration had his heart beating overtime and his head cloudy 
  • He cast his eyes down, trying desperately to ignore his boyfriend’s newly broadened shoulders, or his tight, hard chest
  • Or the way his arms looked when he stretched out like that, fuck
  • Sirius’s chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood up, muttering half an excuse about the bathroom 
  • He didn’t feel connected to his feet as they carried him through the library, eyebrows furrowed and head fuzzy
  • He didn’t notice Remus until his fingers were locked around his wrists, and his whole body tugged sideways
  • Sirius’s soft moan of surprise was muffled by Remus’s lips, which collided with his before he could even gather his surroundings
  • Remus’s hand travelled to Sirius’s neck, his thumb pressing gently into the soft skin, while his other grasped at his hips
  • Sirius thought his legs would give way at any moment 
  • Just as abruptly as it began, Remus drew away, focusing his burning eyes on Sirius
  • “You keep disappearing.” He murmured “And you won’t look at me.”
  • He pressed a thumb to Sirius’s puffy bottom lip “You’re not telling me something Sirius.”
  • Again, Remus’s hand slid back to Sirius’s neck, a gentle pressure aiding the fuzzy euphoria Sirius felt at his touch
  • Tell me.” He growled. 
  • When his face blurred back into view, an almost delirious Sirius saw Remus’s expression harden
  • “I can take it.” He said, lowly
  • Sirius frowned, still breathless, resisting the urge to buck his hips into Remus’s warm, gorgeous body 
  • “It’s you.” He murmured, looking down
  • Suddenly, inexplicably, he felt ashamed
  • “You’ve changed and I can’t - I can’t cope. It’s not that I didn’t like you before, I love you whatever you - what ever you look like - and you were always gorgeous, but now you’re just, you’re just kind of perfect and it’s just” Remus’s proximity making Sirius almost incoherent.
  • “…it’s just your shoulders got bigger, and your arms, and I can’t stop, I can’t focus and I know you just want to work and there’s no time for it so I was trying not to bother you but fuck Remus.”
  • “What?” Remus’s hand tilted Sirius’s chin up, forcing him to meet his confused gaze. 
  • Sirius shuttered under his boyfriend’s newly bulky frame
  • “You’re not…” Remus frowned. “I thought you liked someone else.”
  • Sirius nearly choked. “What?” He spluttered.  
  • “Remus” He snapped, taking control and pushing himself closer to the boy. “I can’t focus on anything but you. I can’t study, I can’t sleep, I can’t look at you in class without…” Sirius groaned and pushed his hips against Remus, using his hard arousal to illustrate his point. 
  • Sirius pressed frantic kisses into to the soft skin on Remus’s neck. “And when you came out of the shower today…”
  • Sirius’s sentence ended in a gasp as his back hit a smooth, cool wall. Remus’s warm mouth was at his neck, his hands pressing down his sides, their bodies flush against each other
  • “Why didn’t you tell me?” Remus growled. “Why didn’t you let me help you?”
  • Sirius only moaned in response as Remus’s thigh found its way between his legs, pressing teasingly against him
  • “Sirius.” Remus growled again. “Why?”
  • “You were…busy.” Sirius groaned, feeling Remus grip his chin. 
  • “Look at me.” Remus ordered, his eyes burning. “I am never too busy for you, Sirius Black.”
  • Sirius looked at his boyfriend, panting. His hips bucked into Remus, and he tried to connect their lips again, but he felt a strong hand push him back, denying him.
  • “Now, say it back to me.” Ordered Remus. “I’m never too busy to fuck you, say it back.”
  • Sirius shuttered, Remus telling him what to do was just, fuck
  • “You’re never too busy to fuck me.” Sirius’s need was turning his voice into a desperate whine, but Remus didn’t move.
  • His eyes burned into Sirius’s, and his voice was low and threatening. “Next time you need me, you’re going to tell me, okay? You’re going to say: ‘Remus, I need you to fuck me now.’ And I’m then going to fuck you, okay?” 
  • Sirius’s eyes almost rolled upwards, his whole body was trembling.
  • “Remus,” Sirius managed to whisper, somewhat calmly. “I need you to fuck me now.”
  • Sirius shuttered as he felt Remus grip the back of his thighs, easily lifting Sirius up and pressing him against the wall, his legs now hooked around his waist.
  • “Good boy.” Remus whispered.
Lazy

Summary: Pure porn without plot. You wake up and spend a morning with Sam and Dean.

Warnings: Smut, threesome (no Wincest), anal sex

Word Count: 2650ish

A/N: Hope y’all enjoy! XOXO

Too hot. Too bright. Everything feels heavy and suffocating, like you’re trapped or tied down. Leg muscles twitch, but you can’t move them as you force your brain to swim toward the surface, try to break your mind out of its haze.

And then you wake up.

For just a moment, you focus only on your breath. You wake up like this two or three times a week, have ever since you started hunting, and it will only take your body a few seconds to calm down.

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anonymous asked:

prompt: andreil + emergency room visit

(this is a sequel to THIS ‘I think there’s someone in the house’ fic!)

The paramedics hammer on the door, and Neil looks up, teary-eyed, from where his face is pressed into Andrew’s damp hair. He’s feeling for his breath with the back of his hand, waiting moment to moment for Andrew to die in his arms, silently like he does everything else. Urgency keeps stunning Neil all over again, hysterical defibrillators. The EMT’s are calling out through the wall, muffled but calm.

It feels unthinkably wrong, their absolute evenness and ease outside his door when his life is an exposed neck and Andrew’s death is the whirring blade of a saw.

He realizes that he has to get up to let them in, and it seems as impossible as it would be for Andrew to spring up and answer the door himself. He feverishly wants them to crumple the door to splinters and be inside already. 

It’s a herculean effort to ease Andrew to the ground, like he’s gritting his teeth and cutting off his own leg. He touches Andrew’s clammy face briefly but he can’t bring himself to try and slap him awake. He props Andrew’s bare feet up on the rim of the bath so the blood will flood towards his head, at least.

He feels untethered to his body when he stands, a helium balloon with its usual weight passed out on the bathroom floor. He falls into the wall immediately, adrenaline neck and neck with exhaustion.

He finds his way to the front door without his mind’s help. His head is in the bathroom with Andrew, and he knows that no matter what happens it’ll be there for a long, long time.

The next time he blinks, a man in uniform is holding his biceps and peering down at him seriously.

“—sir? Sir, are you hurt at all?”

“No,” Neil says, lips numb. “Bathroom. He’s in the bathroom. He’s bleeding to death.”

He turns, easily slipping the paramedic’s grip. There’s a procession of them, hefting a gurney and a couple of kits, and they’ve brought all the cold from outside in on their heels. They’re such a foreign object in their warm, messy apartment — uniformed, official, and precise.

It’s deadly, walking in and seeing Andrew spread out in his boxers, blood oozing through his t-shirt from his loose stitches, pale enough to match the porcelain. Neil’s seen enough corpses to recognize what they look like. 

He falls heavily to his knees and puts his head directly to his chest, listening, tears slipping hotly over the bridge of his nose.

“Please,” he slurs. His heartbeat is a tentative thud, a knock from an unexpected guest. “Help him. Now, help him now.”

“We’re going to try our best Sir, but you’ve got to get out of the way,” someone says gently.

He topples backwards onto his hands. It’s a cramped space, and he knows it would be easier if he waited outside, but he also knows he’d rather die than leave them alone with him.

The first guy kneels down and takes Andrew’s pulse, and Neil shakes his head. They’re too slow, time is feeding directly into a wide open drain.

“He needs an IV. He’s two litres down, at least. You’ve got to—“ A petite woman puts a hand on his shoulder and he shrugs her off violently. “No! You have to listen to me.”

“We know what we’re doing,” she says. “Are you an MD?” She eyes him doubtfully, gaze flitting from his scars to where her colleagues are taking vitals and cutting through Andrew’s clothes.

“Yes,” Neil says wildly. “And he needs an IV. Possibly two. Large-bore, normal saline. He’s not getting any oxygen, and he’s been like this for as long as it took you to gather your meager response team.”

She purses her lips, but she’s a professional. He can see her repressing her anger and it infuriates him. He feels like he’s crashing, over and over again, and he’s watching someone daintily pump the breaks.

“He’s right,” one of the EMT’s says distractedly. “We’re gonna need to get some fluids started, he’s in hypovolemic shock, sats below 50.”

“You want to tell me what happened?” one of the men asks.

“No,” Neil says as evenly as he can manage, reaching out to graze Andrew’s cold fingers.

“Did you do these stitches?” the woman asks, pulling at Andrew’s skin to get a better look at them. He suddenly sees how they must look to them, sloppy and angry red. Neil bends her arm away without thinking about it.

“Don’t touch him,” he snaps. He could break her arm and it would make him feel better. He drops her, disoriented by his own violence.

“There’s no need to be antagonistic,” the first man says. “We don’t want to have to remove you.”

“You really don’t,” Neil agrees. “You won’t succeed.”

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Punk (Chap. 11)

Originally posted by coporolight

Summary: You’re head over heels for your best friend Bucky and hate the nickname he gave you as it doesn’t exactly scream romance.

Word count: ~2500

Warnings: Language, mission/war related violence and gore, shooting, battle related injuries/casualties/mayhem

A/N:  My sincere apologies for how long this has taken.  I’ve been dealing with some personal things and, quite frankly, it took away all desire to write.  I hope you like this chapter, the photo with the shield later on in the story is actually the inspiration for the entire series.  So you can get inspiration from anywhere :)  I want to thank everyone who stuck around waiting and who has been so helpful and kind to me.  Also, I’m very excited to continue writing more chapters!  Thank you for your continued patience.

As always, feedback is always appreciated.  Please let me know how the ‘action’ plays out as I am always looking for ways to improve my storytelling.  Thanks!



Your face fell in horror, but you seemed to be the only one moving, the rest of the world seemed to be stuck in some sort of time lapse.  Bucky was still just crouching there, holding the boy, with that stupid, beautiful smile still plastered to his face, not yet seeing the danger, not yet registering your alarm.

No no no no no no NO!  Your mind was screaming the words as you tore your gaze away from the scene.  The man was getting closer.  NO!

You bolted forward, shoving the woman into the alley screaming for Bucky to run, ripping your vocal chords in the process. Your legs felt like they were trudging through molasses, like some force was pulling you back, weighing you down. And each step on the pavement felt like an elephant stomp making the ground shake.  But it was as if you weren’t moving any closer.  But you had to.  You had to.   Because what was about to happen could. not. happen.

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All It Takes (two)

Bucky x Reader

Summary: It’s not just Bucky who is miserably lusting after you.

Word Count: 1349 | Rating: R 

Warnings: SMUT. Masturbation, one nsfw gif

A/N: okay, that’s a crappy summary. but I hope the content is good enough for y’all 

also sorry for any typos, i’m on the phone.

Masterlist here

All It Takes Part One

(*gifs are not mine!)


From the moment he stepped into your life, you were aware of what all he could do to you. Bucky Barnes was a walking warning himself, a constant reminder for why you cannot be anyone else’s but his. You are head over heels for him and all he has to do is look at you and throw that sexy smirk along with those twinkling blue orbs and you were done for good.

You find yourself daydreaming about him – a lot, often about his lips, how he would roam them all over your body, pressing gentle feather light kisses on your sensitive skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. How his perfect lips would mould with yours, sucking all the air from your lungs, leaving them red and swollen. How he’d graze the tip of his nose along the underside of your jawline, breathing you in. He’d connect lips on the column of your throat, biting and sucking bruises and it would take him little to no time in discovering that sensitive spot on your neck which makes you release that sweet harmonious noise.

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Wife {Harry Styles Smut}

PAIRING: Harry/Y/N
RATING: R
WORD COUNT: 2900+
REQUESTED: nope !

hello! this is just a quick one shot that i churned out bc i loved the concept and i was rly motivated! i hope u enjoy it! if u do, feedback is greatly appreciated (it rly motivates me) and here’s my masterlist if u want more lol :-)

~*~

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anonymous asked:

17. Jungkook, fuckboy au

thank you for requesting! i hope you like it!

17. “I want you to keep it.” 

WORD COUNT: 1,346

Originally posted by foreveryoongz

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baby, my baby | 01

Originally posted by kookmin

“Raise my child, just for twelve months”

◇ pairing: jungkook | reader
◇ genre: angst, fluff. parents au
◇ word count: 6.4 k
◇ author’s note: i will be updating this series every friday evening, 11~12pm korean time! i really hope you enjoy!

part one ↠ part two part three part four (coming next week!)

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Lock and Key (M)

*I am so tired*

Requests: Anon asked “Can you make like a dirty y/n imagine of Jimin please??” + @bangtanofarmys asked “ FUCK FUCK FUCK OMG FINALLY SOMEONE’S REQUEST IS OPEN. Ok I want to request a rough Jimin smut, with daddy kink and stuff BECAUSE IM SO TIRED OF BEING REQUESTED AND NOT REQUEST T-T “ you’re so cute wtf 

Word Count: 10.8k bc I don’t know when to stop


Another mundane day has come to pass, your best friend’s arm slung over your shoulders as you soak up the blinding sunrays on your skin. The sun pressed harsh kisses on your delicate skin, a definite burn accompanied by heavy sweating was just the peak of your day. You could barely remember the words of your professor, zoned out and ready to slump into your couch for two days.

Anthropology was fun when you still had your first year jitters, excited to be in university and getting a degree in something you loved. Now, a few weeks into your second year, you wished the years would just pass by.

Distracted by your internal monologue, you barely caught the bus on time, the driver ready to zoom through traffic and you waved your hand out wildly to catch his attention. You stumbled into a seat, the bus moving no less than a second after you got on.

Mindlessly watching the street signs while numerous people leaving and entering the bus, you get off at the stop near your house. You kick off your shoes, dropping your bag on the shoe rack and you heard a broken sob.

“Mom? Dad?” You went into the kitchen, followed by a set of sniffling before going into the living room. Your father held your mother in a consoling way, her hands clinging onto his red sweater. She grabbed a tissue and blew into it.

“Mom? Why are you crying? What happened?”

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Whipped…boyfriend!!!

***

“Boo!”

Y/N isn’t expecting for Harry to be surprised much, at least not for sneaking up on him.

“Y/N, love! I’ve missed ye’ so much, kitten!”

He tucks his phone into his back pocket before wrapping his arms around her waist and picking her up, a grin so wide and a feeling so comforting that nothing in the world could ruin the moment.

“Missed you loads, too, H!” She whispers into his hair, the feeling of his breath on her neck soothing her instantly.

Harry pecks at her neck before setting her back down, his eyes scanning over her every feature. His heart melts at the way she looks up at him, and when he sees her stand on her tip toes, he leans down to press his lips to hers.

It’s a playful exchange of kisses, with Y/N’s hands gripping at the sides of his printed shirt, and Harry’s large hands cupping her face. Kisses with open eyes and big stupid smiles. Kisses that don’t last longer than three second before their lips separate only to press together again. And in between them, Harry whispers ‘missed ye’ too much’ and ‘I love you’ in broken phrases.

Missed. Kiss. Ye’. Kiss. Too. Kiss. Much. Kiss.

He nudges his nose against hers lightly before pressing one last kiss to her forehead and wrapping an arm around her neck so it dangles over her shoulder as they begin to walk.

“Didn’t tell me ye’ were comin’ for a visit, love.”

Not that Harry minds, at all. He just would’ve liked to have been the first person she saw, not some random cabbie or whoever picked her up at the airport.

“Thought it’d be fun to pop by unannounced. Jeff pitched the idea after he overheard Mer talking to me over the phone. Said you could use a little company in that empty hotel room of yours.”

She bumps his hip with hers, giggling for a moment at the famous half smirk he gives her.

“Hm, well if tha’s why ye’ came here then I reckon we should get t’ tha’ empty hotel room, ehh?”

He’s stopped dead in his tracks, moving to stand in front of Y/N to look at her directly. And Harry can visibly see her tense up, the playful look she’d been sporting a few seconds ago gone.

“Y/N-” he begins, eyebrows furrowed into concern, only to be cut off.

“I’m sorry, H. I know it’s taking forever, but it’s just-” and she’s trying so hard not to disappoint him. She knows they’ve been dating far too long for intimacy not to be part of the relationship already, and it makes her mad that she can’t let herself love him in that way. Not because she doesn’t want to, she knows they’re meant to be together, she just doesn’t feel ready yet.

“No. No, kitten, you’ve got nothing t’ apologise for,” Harry’s hands rub at her upper arms soothingly, hoping to assure her that he’s okay with it, “m'not ever g'na rush this. I want ye’ t’ be sure when the time comes that you want it as much as I do.”

“But I know that it’s frustrating and-”

“-and m'g'na wait as long as I’ve got t’. M'not g'na love ye’ less b'cos of it. Jus’ wan’ ye’ t’ be sure, love.”

He gives her that smile. That toothy smile that can make all their problems fade into nothing. And so she smiles, too.

“Tha’s m'girl.”

***

“Well would ye’ look at this lovely picture.”

A 'wuh-PSSSH’ sound follows the comment, a voice too familiar not to notice.

“Still whipped, mate?”

Harry just smiles, unwrapping his arm from around Y/N to stand up and greet his friend in a proper hug.

“Oh, look at this,” Y/N can hear Harry coo before she’s even got the chance to slip out of the booth they’re currently sat at, “Freddie’s here!”

And to say he completely disregarded Louis at this point would be an understatement, he might as well be invisible now.

Harry stretches his arms out, and Louis complies at letting him hold his one year old.

“Nice t’ see ye’ too, Harry. I’ve been great, thanks mate.”

Harry pays the sarcasm no mind as he sets the baby on his hip, and instead smiles and coos at Freddie who looks up at him with happy eyes.

“Don’t worry, did the same to me earlier.” Y/N laughs at the thought of Harry having left her side with out a second thought to hold who she came to find out was an adorable little baby girl named Ruby.

Louis welcomes her into a hug, whispering a low 'outta have kids then’ in her ear.

And that warms her heart. To think that one day, she’ll be lucky enough to welcome a lovely little human that’ll be a mix of her and Harry, she honestly can’t wait. But now she feels even more guilty.

But Harry smiles at her adoringly, baby Freddie in his arms chuckling and trying to grab at Harry’s short but now longer hair.

“I see you two are still disgustingly sweet as usual,” Louis comments.

Just the way Harry looks at you, it’s unreal and anyone who knew you both would swear you were meant for each other, even before either of you realised it. And that’s exactly what your friends thought. Seeing Harry look at you the way he did at the many dinners and house parties everyone would gather for definitely added to those thoughts.

And you two have been practically inseparable ever since New York. You were glad Harry had gathered up the courage to find you that night, don’t know if you’d be in this position if he hadn’t. You were glad he was hell bent on not leaving that hotel room until things were cleared up because “really miss m'best friend. Tell me wha’ I did so I can fix it, kit'en.” And you were glad he’d said those three words that solidified the fact that he was there to make sure you were his, even though you had been all along.

“Will be. So long as this one will have me,” the press of Harry’s lips to Y/N’s has Louis grunting in pretend distaste.

“Better get going, don’ wanna interrupt Harry still being whipped.”

Harry hands Freddie over with a pout.

“Still no complaints though.”

***

To say everything is going perfect would be an understatement. Harry’s music is being praised and appreciated and Y/N can’t explain how happy it makes her that Harry’s happy. His performances are nothing short of amazing, and she loves seeing him gush over “they were singing along, babe! Just a great feelin’!”

She’s been flying back and forth along his side during all this. New York, London, Paris, and then back to New York. And Harry loves sharing this with her. He loves having her watching him from the side lines, singing along as she claps and gives him thumbs up and blows kisses at him for support. He loves getting off stage with so much adrenaline and kissing her so hard because Harry doesn’t take anything for granted, no. He’s thankful he’s getting to do what he loves and even more with his better half by his side.

“A'right. How do I look?” His jazz hands and that big smile plastered on his face are indication of just how hyped he is for this.

“I’ve never seen anyone pull off black better than you, H!”

And it’s true. Harry can pull off any colour. Blue, red, yellow, pink; you name it! But black. Black gives him a sexy sort of mysterious sophistication.

“Think so?” He looks himself over in the mirror, content at his choice.

Y/N looks at him through the mirror from where she’s sat on the couch of his dressing room, nodding a yes as she gets up to stand on the furniture.

“Please no stage diving today?” She’d be all for it, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s already tried it and it didn’t go as planned. She really doesn’t want him or any of the fans getting injured.

Harry only chuckles and nods in embarrassment as he strides over to stand in front of her, his head tilting up just a bit to look at her since she’s standing on the cushions.

“M'serious, Harry!” But she smiles anyway, arms lazily slung over his shoulders and around his neck. She brings a hand to tug at the hairs at the nape of it as Harry sets his at either side on her hips, thumbs rubbing at her hipbones.

It’s the last listening party before the album is released, and Harry’s pretty sure the second he mentions stage diving, Jeff will have him pulled off stage. Or carried because it is Jeff after all.

“I’ll try not to, kit'en.” Harry doesn’t know why it was a good idea to do it in the first place. But he had all that adrenaline and he was just so excited. Y/N of course had scolded him and slapped his arm after he got off stage because, “you could’ve broken something Harry!!” But he’d kissed the small amount of anger away.

“I’ll be watching from the sides?” Every time before a performance or an interview she says that, and every time she does Harry smiles just as big.

***

“Congrats, Ni!!!!!”

Finally, after a few months of all the boys doing their own thing, everyone’s finally got a chance to gather up at a small venue for Harry’s pre-launch party. Jeff had asked Y/N for help in terms of invitees, and it’d be outrageous not to have Liam, Niall, and Louis attend.

And so Niall is the last to arrive, and the moment he walks through the door, a very tipsy Y/N can’t contain her excitement at finally reuniting with another one of her friends.

“Oí, have enough drinks for the rest of us have ya?” Niall just about tumbles back with the sudden weight of her body as she throws herself at him, but he catches her in his arms and steadies her.

“You’re late mister,” she’s slurring just a bit, words somewhat coherent.

“Does 'arry know you’re drunk??”

He wraps an arm around her waist for support, in fear that she might be too over her head to even walk with out tripping and falling.

“Drunk? M'not drunk,” she pokes at his chest, and Niall only now notices the red cup in her hand threatening to spill over his shirt, “you’re just sober.”

He lets out a lively laugh. Drunk Y/N is something else, and he’s only ever seen her like this when Harry’s not really paying attention to her.

She hiccups and continues with a pout, “he’s over somewhere. With some girl,” she motions her hand around and nowhere in particular, again, the drink sploshing around in the red cup.

Harry hadn’t meant to leave her alone, he’d been pulled away from her side by someone he can’t even recall the name of, because that’s how out of it he is. So he’s been handed drink left and right, downing them with out retaliation because he doesn’t wanna seem like a downer. And although he really should go find his Y/N, he doesn’t think she’d mind if she’s having fun too.

But she’s not. At least not as much as she’d like. All she wants is for Harry to kiss her and hold her hand, because they’re both affectionate drunks, and it’s always a plus to annoy their friends in that way. But she hasn’t seen him in a while. Last she caught a glimpse was about an hour or so ago, when he was being led over to a group of people she doesn’t really recognise, and it made her notice how out of it she is. She doesn’t remember inviting half the people in the room, but the little attention Harry seems to be giving her has her drinking with out a purpose.

It reminds her of when they were only friends. In the same circumstance, she’d drink the night away in hopes of erasing the imagine of Harry smiling wide, eyes crinkled because some girl was whispering god knows what in his ear. He’d be hunched over just a bit to give the girl better access as she mumbled and giggled. And Harry would nod slightly before moving to whisper something back, face too close to her liking. But it, too, was always nothing, because shortly after she would have to turn away. Try to hide the fact that yes, she might have been staring at Harry for much longer than she’d ever admit to. And when he’d catch a glimpse of her doing just the same with a guy, giggling and whispering and smiling like crazy, he’d make his way over. Weaving his way around dancing bodies to get to her. And he’d smile that drink infused crooked smile of his before whispering something like “let’s get ye’ home, pet,” and leading her out of the place with his palm to her lower back.

So yeah, this sort of reminds her of old times. Only this time, they’re actually dating and he’s nowhere to be found.

***

Harry doesn’t remember getting home. He doesn’t remember taking of his clothes either.

In fact, the last thing he remembers is Y/N kissing at his neck and tugging at his pants.

And..oh no. If that’s how…if they were both drunk and-ah shit! Neither of them were suppose to be drunk when it finally happened. Harry wanted to make sure she would be okay with everything going on. He would have wanted to whisper how good she was taking him. Wanted to assure her that he was there with her, that all he wanted was to make her feel good. Harry just wanted to make love to her the right way.

And now he doesn’t even remember half the night.

So he bring his hand over his face, because not only does he not remember, he also doesn’t recognize the room he’s woken up in.

And then he looks beside him at the body under the white sheets.

He doesn’t recognize the person he’s woken up next to.

That’s not his Y/N.

Irate

(Part 2) | (Part 3)

Summary: 

Y/N’s curious, clumsy, and has a knack for asking the wrong questions at the wrong time. Bucky’s a hot-headed prick with a dark past and communication issues. Both are paired for training, and neither party is all too thrilled. 

Word count: 1200 


“This is the training room.”

You nod even though you’re barely processing anything you’re being told.

Three days ago you’d woken up in an abandoned warehouse, with no idea where you were or how you’d gotten there. There were significant gaps in your memory and a you were in lot of pain. Then someone in a red metal suit had entered your field of vision, frowning, and you’d passed out, wondering if it was all some kind of dream. When you’d come to for the second time, you were in the infirmary and this man, (Steve?), started saying something  about a group of enhanced individuals and you being one of them. It took all your willpower to not pass out again.

“We don’t know what your abilities are, but given your enhancements, people are going to come after you. It’s important that you learn to defend yourself.”

You’re still not sure what ‘abilities’ he’s talking about, or what he means by 'enhancements’.

“Training is usually carried out by Natasha or Wanda,” Steve’s speaking again, barely taking notice of you staring at him with eyes wider than plates. “But since they’re away on a mission, we’ll have to find someone else to train you.”  

You nod your head, still trying to understand everything. The names are meaningless to you, and you’re not too keen on getting trained by anyone, especially not if they all have the same stressed out demeanor that Steve seems to radiate. There’s a dull headache beginning to throb at the back of your skull, and honestly, you just need to close your eyes for a bit.

“We should go speak to Fury.”

As if you know who that is. You just nod and follow after him as he hurries along.


Everything about Director Nick Fury is unnerving, from the immaculate state of his office to the way his eye seems to be looking right through you. You swallow hard as he addresses Steve, keeping his eye trained on you the entire time.

“And we don’t know what her abilities are?”

You grit your teeth, still uncomfortable with all the talk of your abilities and your supposed enhancement. You can barely remember your own name.

“Not yet.”

Nick sighs and seems to be in deep thought. After a moment, he turns his body to you. “Can you shoot a gun?”

You look at him incredulously. A gun, you? You could barely hold a kitchen knife without fumbling with it. To hold, no, to shoot a gun? If this was any other situation, you might have laughed. Instead, you shake your head. “No, sir.”

He turns back to Steve. “Well, she’s going to have to learn. Barnes is the best sniper we’ve got. He’ll train her.”

Steve winces, and for a moment he looks like he’s about to say something else, but Fury turns his attention to the screen in front of him, clearly dismissing the two of you.


Steve leads you through the maze-like halls of the compound, until finally, you’re standing in front of large double doors. He pauses and looks to you with a sigh. He seems beat down, dark circles and pallid face. You almost sympathize, but then realize you probably look much the same.

“Bucky’s a good guy, Y/N. Just remember that.”

You’re not sure what he means, or why that’s even relevant, but you don’t have time to think as Steve pushes open the doors and strides inside before coming to a stop in a living-room of sorts, where two people are seated on the couch. Neither of them seem too happy to be in the other’s presence.

Upon seeing Steve, both of them stand, and the one to the right smiles brightly. He’s the first person you’ve seen that looks relaxed at the compound, wearing sweats and a t-shirt and an expression of genuine interest on his face.

“Captain,” he greets, but it’s more out of mock respect than a soldier-like salute, and even Steve’s eyes crinkle. You can tell their friendship goes a long way.  His brown eyes glance at you. His smile doesn’t waver, and it’s so contagious that you can’t hold back the smile that makes its way onto your lips.

If this is Barnes, then maybe training won’t be as bad as it sounds.

Your spare a glance at the person to his left, dressed in the same relaxing attire but looking nowhere near as calm. Every part of this man’s body language screams stress, from head to toe. Upon seeing you, his scowl deepens, and you drop your smile.

“Buck, you’re taking this round of training.”

The guy to the left grins and turns to you. “And I’m guessing she’s the one who needs training?”

Steve nods and you feel your erratic heartbeat slow down significantly. The warning that Steve had given you earlier disappears to the back of your head; the guy seems so chill and laidback, it’s a breather. You smile back, until–

“Oh man, good luck.”

The confusion must show on your face, because the guy turns to Mr. Scowls-A-Lot and claps him on the back. “Meet our resident Grinch, Bucky Barnes.”

Your heart drops to your stomach and Bucky glares at you, fingers curled into a fist. You want to ask him what put him in such a bad mood, but you’re not sure you’ll stay alive long enough to hear the answer.

“Can I talk to you for a moment, Steve?” Bucky’s jaw clenches and his face is slowly turning red. Even Steve, who seems to be in charge here, grimaces. With a sigh, he follows Bucky to the other corner of the room. You plop down onto the sofa.

“I’d say don’t worry but, I’d definitely worry.” You turn to the first guy, and he holds out his hand. “I’m Sam.”

“Y/N,” you shake it, then gesture to the duo in the corner, having a pretty heated conversation. “Is he always this…”

“Grumpy? Only on a good day.” When he sees your face pale even more, Sam laughs. “I’m just kidding. He takes some warming up to, but he’s not a bad guy.”

He repeats exactly what Steve had said, and for whatever reason, the words aren’t reassuring in the least. Bucky and Steve’s conversation seems to have escalated to loud whispers now, and you catch certain phrases here and there, “I don’t know… Nobody seems to… Can’t be trusted.”

The last one hits you hard, and you want to be angry, but Bucky’s right. You barely remember anything about yourself and you have supposed abilities that you’re pretty much in the dark about; even you can’t trust yourself.

The clock on the wall shows the time to be just past two in the morning, and just as the second hand makes its way around the face for the second time, Bucky walks up to you, fists clenched and breathing heavily through his nose.

“Meet me in the training room tomorrow morning. Six a.m. sharp.” He’s less than thrilled about the whole ordeal, and you can only match his level of discomfort.

As he storms out of the room, you throw your head back onto the couch and groan.


Tags below cut: 

Keep reading

below thunder showers

sci-fi au
inspired by billie marten’s heavy weather.

pairing: jungkook | reader, past yoongi | reader 
genre: angst with bits of fluff
word count: 29.885
warnings: none

Min Yoongi leads Earth with a stern hand and a pair of cold eyes. You lead a withered space station that’s been losing hope for years, mind tired and heart torn. Jeon Jungkook is no more than a broken soldier who’s slowly losing his humanity, but his longing for the rain keeps him tied to the ground.

Three paths converge again when the two worlds clash, and as precarious as they were, it does not stop you from falling in love for a second time.


You are just eight years old when you look at Earth’s sky for the first time.

Though you are considered an observant child, you are still too young to understand the underlying meaning of your actions. Your eyes only see an unexplored vastness, infinite and alluring, undiscerning of the coiling tendrils that precariously tie two worlds together — yours, and Min Yoongi’s.

Keep reading

Jamaica

This is a lil something I wrote because I watched BTA and it ruined me…special thanks to @sing-me-a-song-harry for helping me edit and sort it out!! Hope you all like it!! xx B

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The sunlight was blinding, the humidity making your skin sticky and already making your hair nearly unmanageable as you made your way off the tarmac. You squinted and pulled down your shades, your eyes darting everywhere until they landed on a curly head of hair about ten yards from you. Harry was bent over his cell phone, lips rolled into his mouth and a pair of black RayBans holding his hair back from his eyes. He looked as delicious as ever, and you swallowed as you admired the slight tan he’d acquired over the past couple of weeks. Harry had always held a soft spot in your heart; with his killer smile and charming personality, you often wanted nothing more than to get on your knees for him. That sort of thinking wasn’t appropriate though, especially since the pair of you had always been just friends, nothing more. You cleared your throat.
“Harry!” You called and his head popped up, a warm smile on his lips.
”‘Lo, love! ’Ve missed ya, glad yeh decided t'come down.“ His arms wrapped around you, his lips pressing sweetly to your cheek, and you bit your lip as the scent of him flooded your senses. You loved the way he smelled. “Shall we?” Harry reached for your bags, leaving one arm draped casually over your shoulder.
“How’ve you been, H? How’s the writing?” Harry’s dimples deepened, and his eyes sparkled happily. He was well-rested for once, with no dark circles under his clear green eyes, and you smiled up at him as he began to ramble on about his album. Harry talked the entire way to the house he shared with his writing partners, his voice light and hands moving animatedly as he drove. The house itself was gorgeous, and when Harry showed you to your temporary room, you couldn’t help the snort that came from your lips.
“What happened to living modestly hidden in Jamaica?” A shrug and a half smile was his response as he set your bags down. He suddenly seemed close, very close, and his eyes had a new, unreadable look in them.
“’M glad yeh came, love, really. ’S been too long.” Harry gently tucked some of your hair behind your ear and out of your face, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Your tummy flipped when you watched his eyes dart quickly to your lips. If only he would just lean a little closer…..
“Harry? Y/N?” The pair of you jumped at Jeff’s voice calling through the house, your cheeks heating as Harry scratched the back of his neck.
“Yeh, um…get unpacked and settled, yeah? I think everyone wants t'go out t'night, yeh should go.” Harry turned to leave, his shoulders a little tense, and you frowned.
“Are you not going?” His head turned to look at you over his shoulder and he offered a small smile.
“Yeh know me, love; partying isn’t m'thing, is it?” Then he was out the door, leaving you to mull over going out or not.
Two hours later, everyone but you and Harry filed out of the house, taking all of the loud noise and talking with them. Harry’d taken to sitting by the dining table, a guitar in his hands and a glass of wine sitting in front of him as he strummed quietly.
“Mind if I join you?” His eyes flew to you, his lips curling into a smile. A large hand tunneled through his hair as he looked you over, taking in your pajama shorts and loose tank top. You could’ve sworn a flash of desire sparked in his eyes.
“Not at all. Wine?” He was already pouring you half a glass, sliding it over to you as you took the seat next to him. Thanking him with a nod, you took a sip, your gaze moving to the large windows to admire the view of the beach and beautiful sea beyond it.
“How’s everythin’ in your world? How’s..what’s his name?” You didn’t miss the way his lip curled down in distaste at the mention of your last fling.
“Wouldn’t know. I ended it just after you left…prick was sleeping with two other girls.” A grunt left Harry’s lips as he propped his guitar against the table, his hand coming to rest on your thigh.
“I’m sorry, love. Yeh too good fo’ him anyways.” You shrugged, draining the wine from your glass and setting it back on the table.
“I sure know how to pick them, eh?” A humorless laugh left your lips and Harry frowned, shaking his head.
“’S'alright, pet, he was the one with the problem, not you.” You rolled your head back, still hyper aware of Harry’s warm palm on your thigh, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your bare skin.
“Where are all the good ones, H? The creeps and arseholes are always the ones I attract. Where are all the men like you?” Harry’s brows rose a little, a ball tightening in his stomach. All he’d wanted to do since you’d gotten off the plane was kiss you until your lips were swollen, and now here you were, asking him where men like him were hiding. He shifted a little closer to you, hand tightening on your thigh.
“Men like me?” The words were quiet, unfocused as Harry watched your throat move as you swallowed.
“You know, men who…are real. Who aren’t afraid to let you know what they want. Men who are loyal, good guys. Where do all of you hide out?” Now you were so close to each other that you could feel his warm breath puffing over your cheek. Harry’s tongue swept along his bottom lip, and you longed to kiss him. His fingers edged under the hem of your shorts, goosebumps raising on your skin.
“’M certainly not hidin’, angel.” A crooked smirk tugged at his lips and then Harry leaned in, his pink lips covering yours. You gasped, and it was enough of a space for his tongue to edge out, sweeping along your top lip as if to ask permission. You eagerly gave him more room to work, your hands going to fist in his white t-shirt as his tongue met yours, tentatively brushing over it. When the first tiny whimper bubbled from your throat, Harry pulled back, his forehead pressing against yours.
“D'yeh wan’ this?” Always so good, that was Harry. So, so good all the time. In response, you stood and leaned over him, taking his jaw in your hands and kissing him hotly. A surprised grunt rumbled through him as his hands grasped your hips, pushing you back as he stood. Your backside met the wall, and you moaned as Harry’s hands began to wander. His fingers worked to push your shirt up and over your head, revealing your tummy and chest to him. He tossed your shirt to the floor and his hands moved to cup your breasts over your bra.
“Harry,” you managed, hips bucking into his, moaning again once you felt the hard length of him pressing against your lower body.
“Yeh wet fo’ me? Hm, angel?” Your bra straps were tugged down your arms, and the clasp was undone before your bra joined your tank top on the floor.
“Yes, yes, I’m so wet.” It was true; your panties had been ruined since his hand first landed on your thigh. A growl left Harry’s lips at your words, his dark eyes dropping to your breasts.
“Jesus, pet. S'pretty.” His tongue lapped over one of your nipples, and you let out a garbled moan, your hands tangling in his hair as he wrapped his lips around your breast. Harry’s hips rutted into yours, desperate for any amount of pressure on his aching cock. Your hand slipped down to slide into his loose shorts, easily finding his cock. He groaned against your skin when you circled your hand around his thick length, enjoying the heavy weight of him. Harry worked to yank down your shorts and panties, lips moving heatedly over your exposed skin.
“Christ, darling, feels s'good.” His breath puffed against your collarbones as he thrusted his hips with each stroke of your hand, moaning each time you thumbed the tip of him. Your free hand went to pull down his shorts, thankful for the fact that he tended to go commando, and your mouth watered at the sight of his fully hard cock. It was flushed and pretty, little pearls of precum already beading on his head. “S'nough, pet,” Harry said darkly, one arm going to brace the wall beside your head and the other moving to grasp your thigh to wrap your leg around his hip. “Yeh ready?” He asked as your fingers twisted in the thin material of his shirt. You nodded as Harry mouthed along your jawline and crowded against you, one hand moving to guide himself into you.
“Big!” You gasped, reveling in the burning stretch that came as he buried himself to the hilt. A low, rumbling groan spread through Harry’s chest, his eyes squeezing shut as your walls clenched around him. His lips closed around your earlobe and he began to thrust, hips rutting into yours with smooth, measured strokes. You were so tight and warm around him, taking every inch of him gladly, and Harry was seeing stars by the time a curl of pleasure began to ball in his stomach.
“Yeh feel amazin’, pet…knew yeh would, wanted this fo’ so long.” His neck veins strained as he threw his head back, his words turning into long moans as your walls clenched around him. His thick cock brushed every nerve in you, goading you quickly to your orgasm as his lips lowered to your neck. Harry nibbled at your damp skin, tongue soothing the sting of his bite as you mewled loudly.
“Please, Harry!” You cried, hand slipping up to tug at his hair. Harry growled at the feeling, hips shifting to pound into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the otherwise quiet house, and you thanked whoever was watching out for you for sending your friends out of the house for the night.
“Can yeh feel me all up in yeh?” Harry’s hand circled your wrist and led it to rest on your lower belly, where he pressed it down until you could feel the tip of him brushing your walls. A loud moan ripped through you. Filthy. He was absolutely filthy with you, and you couldn’t help the garbled half-sentences that fell from your lips as his fingers went to circle your clit.
“Close! So close, baby, please.” Your voice was strangled as you fought for a decent breath, your throat dry from crying out. Harry’s lips covered yours, swallowing your moans and shouts as he moved faster, his cock beginning to twitch inside of you. The kiss was just as filthy as his words, sloppy and wet, all tongue meeting tongue and lips smacking against lips. Your hands fisted tighter in his shirt and hair as you barreled towards your orgasm, back arching.
“Yeh gonna cum fo’ me? Gonna b'good, pet?” Harry’s tongue licked down your throat and you screwed your eyes shut as he sucked a nipple into his mouth.
“Yes! Yes, I’ll be good, please, please, Harry. I’m so close,” you cried, head rolling back against the wall. Harry grunted in response, the vein that wrapped along the underside of him pulsing with pleasure as he neared his edge.
“Cum,” he puffed against your breast, “cum fo’ me. C'mon, angel, give it t'me.” Your mouth parted in a silent moan as your orgasm broke over you, white flooding your vision. Harry was quick to follow, spurting hot, sticky ropes of his seed deep inside of you. Sweat coated the both of you, and the Jamaican air wasn’t helping, almost suffocatingly hot as you fought for breaths. Harry’s head rested against your collarbones, his softening length still nestled inside of you. You pressed short kisses to his hairline, trembling still, and Harry huffed out a laugh.
“Well tha’s one way t’ welcome yeh.” You let out a shaky laugh as he withdrew, hands coming to cup your cheeks. “’Ve wanted yeh fo’ s'long, love.” A sweet, chaste kiss was pressed to your mouth and you smiled sleepily at him, running a hand through his messy hair.
“Now you’ve got me.” You replied. Harry’s response was a wicked, promising smirk that made heat coil in your belly again.
“C'mon, pet, there’s a king-sized bed with silk sheets that I need t’ see yeh writhing against.” And writhe you did.