it looked prettier in my head

Don’t look at her. Don’t say her name. Don’t tell me she’s ‘just a friend.’ Don’t tell me that you think of her as a ‘sister.’ Don’t tell me that you think she is pretty or beautiful. Don’t tell me that you like what she’s wearing. Don’t mention how skinny she is. Don’t mention how curvy she is. Don’t notice the color of her eyes. Don’t notice the color of her hair. Don’t hug her. Don’t touch her. Don’t be her friend on Facebook. Don’t follow her on Instagram. Don’t ‘like’ her selfies. Don’t comment on her pictures. Don’t tell her she looks nice today. Don’t tell me about that road trip you took with her. Don’t tell me what you did for her that one time on her birthday. Don’t tell me about how awesome her family is. Don’t tell me about the first time you kissed her. Don’t tell me about what you did in bed together. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to know. I’ll never believe you when you say she no longer means anything to you. Don’t say anything about her, not even once. If you do, I’ll never forget it. It will eat away at me forever. Because I will always look at her and see her as somebody that could make you happy, happier than I could ever make you. I’ll see her as somebody that will give you everything you want. I’ll always think she is prettier than me. I’ll always think you want her more than me. I’ll always see how soft and luscious her hair is. I’ll always see how perfect her body is. I’ll always see how big and sparkly her eyes are. I’ll always see an image of the two of you together in my head. Every time we sit down together at our favorite restaurant, I’ll wonder if the two of you went there first. When you tell me you like that new perfume I’m wearing, I’ll wonder if she used to wear it. Every time we hear a song on the radio, I’ll wonder if it makes you think of her. Every time we’re making love, I’ll wonder if you’re thinking of her. When you tell me that you like the things I do to you, I’ll wonder if she did them to you first. I’ll always wonder if, deep down, you wish you could be with her. I’ll always wonder if you miss her. I’ll always wonder if you want her back. I’ll always wonder if you’re thinking about her. I’ll never feel like I am enough for you. I’ll never feel like you truly let her go.
I don’t want to hear you tell me to not be jealous, I want to see you give me every reason in the world not to be…
—  If you want to have a successful relationship, don’t talk about your ex’s.
Sugar Sweet  | 1 | (M)

word count: 8.9k (seriously, what a mouthful)

genre: smut + fluff; college AU + fuckboy!kihyun

pairing: reader/kihyun

summary: your best friend & roommate changkyun just wanted to help get you laid. instead you found solace in a pink haired man named kihyun who had a smart mouth with sharp words you weren’t afraid to let cut you, as long as he didn’t mind you hurting him a little too.

part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 

masterlist

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100 Dollars

Justin’s texts in bold. Yours are normal. You’ve been texting this guy for a while now and little do you know that your actually texting THE Justin Bieber.


Originally posted by forame

Are we ever ever going to meet?

Not yet

Why not?

My mom doesn’t let me

What? Justin your a grown ass man that’s a lie.

Alright fine. You got me I’m actually 12

I knew it since the beginning, you know

Lmao

No but seriously why not?

Can we not do this right now, I’m eating out with my friends for my birthday.
I’m just not ready.

But we’ve been texting for 7 months, what do you mean your not ready?

I just don’t wanna meet you yet
It’ll change everything

Hell yeah it will!
It’ll be so freaking fun!

No Y/N not like that
I mean in a bad way
You’ll treat me differently

100 dollars says I won’t

Don’t make that bet unless you have a hundred to spare

…If you didn’t wanna meet me you could have just said so

No Y/N it’s not like that
Y/N?
Cmon don’t be like this

Read at 5:36 pm

***

With a loud and agitated sigh, I shut my phone off and threw it down on my white bed sheets besides me. I’m beginning to get sick of Justin’s excuses - they’re beginning to make me a little claustrophobic. I need a break. 

With yet another loud sigh and the rub of my face, I decided It was time I actually left the house and began my decent down the stairs, into the kitchen where my mother stood wiping the marble bench top.

Not having the energy to converse with her at this moment, I grabbed the keys right off the exact bench she was currently rubbing at and made a dash for the door. “I’m leaving.” I informed her on my way out.

“Alright sweetie!” Mom replied with no fuss and at the approving comment, I was out the door.

I need something to get my mind off things. Just me. No phone, no parents and no Justin. Quickly darted out the house and towards my new white Range Rover which my father bought for my birthday that just passed recently.

As I settled inside and switched on the ignition, I sat for a second debating on where I should go and escape the rest of the day  and at the thought, my stomach made a loud gurgling noise. Guess I’m going out to eat.

With no hesitation, I finally mustered up the perfect place to go and began backing up out of the driveway, beginning my decent down towards a close friend of mine’s shop. Cassy owns a big fancy restaurant down the road from me and always gives me discounts on my food. 

The people there despise me considering I always rock up in sweat pants and an Adidas shirt while they all practically parade around in designer dresses and expensive pearls.

Once I arrived, I jumped out of my car and threw the keys to the valet employee. I don’t know why but every time I come here I seem to act like queen shit. It’s honestly kind of hilarious.

I stepped through the large, grand restaurant doors and not even a few seconds later was immediately greeted by Cassy herself, running forward towards me. “Oh my god Y/N, it’s been so long. C'mon lets get you seated.”

With a smile, I obliged to following the girl over towards a table for two draped elegantly in a creme cloth that was decorated with a few flowers and fine cutlery. I placed myself on one side, Cassy seating herself on the other. 

She always accompanied me when I come to eat here, it was our little thing. With the flick of her fingers, a waiter came over and took our orders, then left once we were done.

Suddenly she sat right up, a face full of excitement. “You came on the right day my girl.” She smiled and I furrowed my eyebrows at her enthusiasm. 

“Why, what happened?” I chuckled. 

“Alright,” Cassy began “ Don’t freak out but, guess who made a reservation and is sitting in this restaurant right now?” She squealed

My head quickly jolted up as I glanced around the restaurant. Then my eyes landed on a boy sitting a little further away with a group of people and a rush of adrenaline ran through my body. Justin Bieber! He was my idle though for some reason, I didn’t find myself jumping for joy as I expected too.

“No way.” I whisper shouted. Cassy giggled “Yes way. Apparently today’s his birthday or something.”

Hm, that’s funny. It’s also my friend Justin’s birthday.

“Cool.” I mumbled, turning my head away.

“You should go and talk to him.” Casst smiled but overall I just shrugged “Nah, I wouldn’t wanna disturb him on his birthday. He’s probably just trying to enjoy a nice lunch.”

“Suit yourself.” She shrugged.

It was silent between us for a moment until I decided to stand up and said “I’m going to the restroom.”

An approving hum was sung from Cassy and I found myself strutting my way over to the restroom afterwards. It was a unisex toilet meaning there was a mixture of men and woman in here, but nothing really other than a few old posh white folks who were eyeing me wearily for my fashion choice.

I ignored the stares and found my way into a stall, did my business and walked over to the sinks. By then, everyone else had left the bathrooms and I was found pumping some soap from the dispenser in my hands alone. Just then the door opened.

I looked up into the mirror and spotted Justin Bieber himself walking into the room. He wore nothing but a pair of baggy jeans and loose white fitted T. His hair messily flipped over his forehead and tattoos on full display. 

That’s a bold move to pull in a restaurant like this, the oldies hated any inked skin and tended to gossip. But I liked his confidence, kind of like myself.

 I smiled small at him before applying my concentration back on my own hands.

He walked forward over to the sink beside me and began running a hand through his long blonde hair and I watched in awe as his fingers played around with his locks, not realising that I had been staring for a little to long.

He cleared his throat loudly, causing my eyes to dart down to his. “Oh um, sorry.” I muttered to which he chuckled.

 "Nah it’s alright. People tend to stare a lot.“ He shrugged

I turned off the faucet of the gold sink and moved over to grab some paper towels to dry my hands. "Must suck.”

“Yeah.” He replied straightening himself out. Silence overcame the surrounding air for a second as we continued on with our own things, until he suddenly spoke again. “I like you’re style. You do it on purpose?” He smirked. 

I knew what he was getting at. The fact that I had actually had the guts to appear in a place of displayed wealth, dressed like this. You wouldn’t do it unless you were trying to piss off the rich people who dined here. He knew too well, because it was obvious he was doing the same.

“You know it.” I nodded. “Its hilarious to see the snobby faces when you walk in. The scowls are priceless.” 

He chuckled. “Yeah, I know right?” he agreed.

“I mean, you would know.” I pointed out, glaring back at his outfit.

Justin laughed, glancing down at his choice of clothes and shook his head in humour. “I’ll have you know these jeans are designer.” He teased. 

“I’m wearing designer too.” I nodded. “I’m actually wearing Calvin Klein underwear.” I giggled. “That’s as designer as your gonna get with me.” 

Justin actually laughed at this, a full blown loud laugh, unlike the chuckles he displayed previously. I giggled along with him snapping the waist band of my underwear to prove my point.

Justin shook his head, finally letting down, and I stepped forward smiling at the handsome man.

“Well, I better go, my friends waiting for me.” I began my way over towards the door but was suddenly held back by a loud … 

“Wait!” He yelled. I stopped. “I didn’t catch you name.” He continued.

I smirked, glancing at him one more time, with one hand on the door. “ I think we both know you already know that.”

And with that, I left him in the bathroom, standing there in shock.

That’s right Justin. I caught on.

***

“I better get back to work.” Cassy sighed.

“Yeah, well, I’m done anyways. So I’m gonna leave. Thanks Cass.”

Cassy nodded. “No problems. I’ll see ya later.” She waved. I watched as she made her way into the kitchen, yelling at a few of her employees who were slacking off on the way.

I sighed in exhaustion and waved a hand over to my waiter, who slowly and carelessly made his way over to my table “Yes madam, what may I get you?”

“My tab please.” I smiled.

The man began shuffling through some papers in his hands before turning back to me, eyebrows raised in slight surprise.  "You’re clear.“ he announced. 

But I furrowed my eyebrows. "What? But I haven’t payed yet.”

“Curtesy of the man that goes by the name of Justin Bieber. He asked to put your tab on his.”

My eyes winded in slight shock and confusion but couldn’t help the smile that set across my face. 

That sneaky bastard. 

Justin’s POV

It’s her. It’s really Y/N. She’s so much prettier in person. We’ve been talking for so long and I just couldn’t believe she was actually here in front of me. She knew who I was and didn’t freak out.

I carefully watched as she conversed with the waiter for a little before getting up and walking out of the restaurant, sparing me a glance along the way. She sent me a small wink before exiting the restaurant.

“Jay?” I snapped my head up to look back at Hailey who had been apparently yelling my name.

“Hmm?” I asked.

“Why are you staring at that girl. Stop being a creep and eat.” She demanded.

I chuckled slightly, turning back around to dig into my meal once again. I’ll text Y/N later and figure out what the hell just happened. I want to ask her when she figured it out.

That’s when suddenly, the same waiter who was serving Y/N began making his way over to me. “Mr Bieber, you have a note from the women sitting opposing. I believe her name was Y/N Y/L/N.”

He handed me the note which I cautiously took from his hand and watched as he walked off further into the restaurant.

With curious eyes and cautious hands, I slowly pulled at the folded note and took a peek at the 5 words sprawled across. And subconsciously, a large smile found it way onto my face at the words. 

‘You owe me 100 dollars. - Y/N.’

Mr. Shark

“Peter is a child.” Tony hisses into the phone. He’s keeping one eye on the kid from where he is standing, not hiding just standing, around the corner.

“He’s normally a child Tony, what’s your point?” Rhodey asks, Tony can hear him yawning over the line.

“Yes, he’s normally like 14 though not 4.” Tony is definitely not screeching in distress. “Normally he is my height, not this tiny thing.”

“What?” Rhodey asks, and he sounds more awake now.

“I don’t know, Friday says it’s Peter, but he’s like 2.” Tony peeks out to see Peter trying to pull himself onto the couch, he gets a wave and a gap-toothed grin.

“I thought he was 4.” Rhodey points out, and it sounds like he’s laughing at Tony.

“I don’t know what age he is, he’s small Rhodey. I need help, please come help me with the spider kid.” He pleads, waving back at Peter. Peter starts to toddle towards him.

“I’ll be there tomorrow morning.” Rhodey grumbles, and the dial tone sounds in his ear. Tony’s eyes are wide with fear when Peter bumps into his leg.

“Tomorrow morning?” His voice is little more than a squeak.

“That is what he said boss.” Friday replies, she sounds smug.

“Okay, hi Peter.” Tony greets crouching down next to the kid. “I’m Tony Stark.” He holds out his hand to the little guy.

“Hi!” Peter shouts, grabbing onto his hands. “I like your bobots.” He holds out his arms in the normal kid gesture for pick me up, and Tony does, hefting the kid onto his hip.

“Really, which of my robots is your favorite?” He asks, bouncing a little. Peter squeals excitedly.

“I like the nice wall lady, and the dumb rolly robot, but my favorite is suit lady.” He informs Tony, nodding excitedly. “She’s nice.” Tony laughs.

“She is, isn’t she? You know I think you are her favorite human too.” He pokes Peter’s nose for emphasis. Peter giggles, grabbing onto his glasses with one hand, and yanking them off his face. “Ow.” Tony winces, and the glasses snap in half, apparently the little spider still has some super strength.

“Oh no.” His eye’s go wide and glossy and he looks up at Tony. “Please no mad. I didn’t mean to Mr. Shark.” Tony is trying very hard not to look like he wants to cry. “Please don’t leave.” Peter sniffles.

“I’m not leaving Peter, I’m right here. The glasses are dumb anyways.” He takes what’s left of them from Peter and drops them in the garbage. “See all gone.”

“No gone. I broke the boat and you were gone, no leaving now.” Peter insists, clutching at Tony’s shirt. Tony drops onto the couch, he needs to look put together for the kid, but his heart feels like it’s breaking in his chest. He gave Peter abandonment issues. He was trying to break the cycle, and he failed. Gesturing with his left arm for Dum-E to come over, he tries to soothe the kid.

“I’m so sorry Peter. I shouldn’t have left you then, and I won’t leave you now. I promise.” He pats Peter’s pack in an attempt to be comforting. Dum-E rolls over, blanket clutched in his claw.

“Pinky promise?” Peter asks, holding up his pinky.

“Pinky promise.” Tony links his pinky with Peter’s just as Dum-E drops a blanket onto both of their heads. “Thanks Dum-E.” Tony grumbles, it makes Peter giggle so Tony will consider it a success.

“You’re not mad?” Peter asks.

“Nah those glasses were dumb anyways. I’m much prettier without them.” Tony informs him. Peter reaches out, grubby fingers poking at Tony’s cheeks.

“Your eye is dark under. Aunt May says it’s a bag but that doesn’t make any sense.” Peter informs him. “You put things in bags.” He informs Tony.

“I do not have bags under my eyes.” Tony insists. Peter looks as unconvinced as a four-year-old can. “I get a healthy amount of sleep.”

“Mr. Shark, you don’t sleep, ever.” Peter points out, and Tony doesn’t really have an argument, and he doesn’t really want to correct Peter’s pronunciation of Stark, so it’s time to change the topic.

“Friday, how long until Rhodey gets here?”  He asks.

“Based on his flight plan, he should arrive at the building in approximately 10 hours.”  Friday replies. Tony tries not to look absolutely horrified.

“I’m going to die.” He whispers, Peter pats his cheek comfortingly.

“Don’t worry Mr. Shark, I protect you.” Peter assures him, it’s the cutest thing Tony has ever seen and he’s going to wrap this kid in bubble wrap and never let him outside into the dangerous world ever again.

THIGH RIDING - JBB

{synopsis} bucky barnes and his correlation with thigh riding

{warnings} thigh riding, dom!bucky

{pairing} dom!bucky x sub!reader

{word count} 323

{requested by} a nonnie i’m in LOVE with

{permanent tags} @damneronpoe @kellieabro @melconnor2007

    you and james had a very eventful sex life. ever since you had introduced him back to the bedroom, he had picked up on the modern style of making love like a pro. you had shared in a few kinks, dirty talk, light name calling, even did role playing once. but one thing that you were a bit embarrassed to ask him about was thigh riding. you had done it once before with an ex-boyfriend, and boy, did you enjoy it. every time you got yourself off when bucky was on mission, you envisioned yourself grinding your swollen clit on one his sinfully thick thighs, his large hands on your waist, sweet encouragements spilling from his lips. it got you hotter like nothing else, and god… you wanted to ride one of bucky’s thighs so badly.

    so, one day, you mustered up the courage and brought it up. bucky could tell you were a bit nervous about something, with the way you were looking down at your lap and wringing your fingers. you were only ever this timid when you really wanted something, and bucky found it absolutely adorable. you had invited him into the world of modern love making like a pro, but he still viewed you as being a sweet, innocent thing. so, when your request came out as barely a whisper, james made you repeat it just for the sake of hearing it again. “c-can i… ride your t-thigh?”. he bit his bottom lip as your big eyes darted up to lock with his, and god, if you hadn’t melted with the fire deep in bucky’s cerulean eyes…

    bucky had you go change into a pastel pink, lacy number that he had adored since he saw you in it for the first time: 

and as you sat down on his lap, your shaky legs straddling his right thigh, fingers picking at your soft lips, your eyes avoiding contact with his, he grabbed both of your hands forcefully, pulling them down so that he held them in front of your torso and in your lap, then used his left, metallic appendage to lift your chin up so that your eyes looked into his darkened ones. he spoke lowly and slowly, “don’t be afraid, doll face. you’re going to grind those little hips on my thigh, and you’re gonna cum, hard. you understand?” you moaned and nodded your head. 

    and so, the game began. you began to move your hips at a steady pace, sighing lightly at the pressure that you felt in your core. as your hips went faster, your moans grew louder. james looked at you, pupils blown, jaw slack. had he ever seen anything prettier? he placed his hands on your hips gently and helped you gain rhythm and tempo, pushing you down hard enough on his muscular thigh that you cried out. then, the worse thing happened: he began to talk to you. little chants of “good girl” and “you look so pretty, baby” turned into “look at your sweet little face, that look of innocence could drive anyone mad” , “you grind your clit so well on my thigh, love. does it feel good?”, and “god, i just wanna eat you up… you’re so sweet, baby, you’re losing yourself…”. all of those things were true, of course. he was enjoying this just as much as you were. watching your brows furrow in pleasure, cute little whimpers and gasp tumbling from your lips, your cheeks blushing crimson every time he opened his mouth.

    and when you came, he nearly did too. this became a regular, very mutually beneficial, thing between the two of you.

Pick Up Lines and Insecurities

Originally posted by imultifandomstuff

In which Richie Tozier is dating the insecure reader

Y/N sadly looked in h bathroom mirror. Y/N has never been very with how she looked. Either this part of her was too big or this was too small. Y/N looked at the small clock hanging on the wall and quickly before heading downstairs. As she entered her homes living room she saw her boyfriend, Richie looking at different pictures hanging all over the walls. He heard her enter and when he turned around to look at her, he put his hand over his heart.

“Jesus, babe, warn a guy before you enter a room looking that good. I almost had a heart attack.” Richie stated as he began to walk over to her.

Y/N felt her face heat up and she quickly kissed him on his cheek.

“I’m ready if you are.” She said as she headed to the front door.

Richie quickly followed her as they both headed out the door.

“So. Where did you wanna go today, hot stuff?” Richie asked Y/N as he took her hand in his and looked at her admirably.

“Maybe down by the lake where all of those pretty streams are?” Y/N suggested as she turned her head to look at him.

Richie smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, id like that. Ill get to hang out by those pretty streams with my even prettier girl.” He responded as he sent a wink her way.

Y/N turned her face away from Richie as she shyly smiled at his comment and action.

Richie smiled before kissing her temple and speaking again

“You’re so cute when you’re shy.”

Y/N nudged Richie with her shoulder and laughed at his cheesiness.

“Shut up, Tozier.” 

Richie and Y/N finally made it to the streams that flowed out of the lake and found a spot to sit down. As Richie was telling some funny story when Y/N looked over and saw her refection in the water. She looked at the herself at the terrible angle and noticed everything that she thought was wrong with her appearance. Suddenly, she saw another reflection appear in the water beside her.

It was Richie.

He was looking at her. Admiring her, actually. When he started speaking, he was still admiring her.

“You know, Y/N. I see the way you look at yourself sometimes. I know I’m not the best with this kind of stuff at times but, even though you somehow see bad things about yourself, I only see the beautiful things. I think I can only see the beautiful things about you because there are no bad things about you. I think you’re great.” He said as his cheeks got more red the more he spoke.

Y/N felt her eyes get watery at Richie’s words, but she was still smiling.

Y/N leaned over and softly grabbed Richie’s face and kissed his lips. She pulled away after a little bit and looked at Richie’s bright red face.

“I’m the luckiest boy ever, you wanna know why?” Richie asked.

“Why?” Y/N asked with a smile.

“Because I know what its like to kiss an angel.”

Reunion

- Where Harry and Anne reunite after 6 years. 

Part 1

Masterlist linked in bio


Harry didn’t sleep the night before their departure.

In fact, Harry could barely sit still for the past three days from all the anxiousness inside of him. He was already packed—already had everything he needed right beside the front door—yet he still couldn’ stop fidgeting.t

It was three in the morning when Harry decided to have a makeshift date inside their apartment. Their flight was planned to leave at 7, which ultimately lead them to spend the whole night awake due to Harry’s inevitable excitement.

They were hungry and Harry needed to do something proper for Y/n, especially after everything she had done for him. But he had already done so much for her within the past two weeks that she almost didn’t let him spend so much time making them a second dinner. 

But he just wouldn’t take no for an answer and she ultimately didn’t mind. It was quite entertaining watching him cook in quick movements, occasionally laughing at the television set as Friends played quietly in the corner. It was rare for them to have quality moments like this, and although they are together for hours every day, the spontaneous aspects of their relationship died down the more they worked.

Harry had also decorated the kitchen as much as he could. With a few spare candles, a couple supermarket flowers, a bottle of cheap wine, and the small hum of from his thrifted radio—he was really setting an ambiance that made Y/n flustered.

Harry clicks off the television and turns down the lights before turning around to look at Y/n, who’s resting her cheek in her hand as she watches him in such an admirable way that Harry’s heart jumps in his chest.

The light of the candles illuminates her body in a way that almost makes her look so pure, where parts of her remain a silhouette while the rest of her glows in reflection. He feels his palms begin to sweat and feels that familiar tug in his heart when he watches her blink at him in nothing short of falling in love all over again.

He finds it humorous, really—just how much his body reacts to her after all this time.

“You’re looking gorgeous, you know.”

Even in the dim room does he notice her cheeks blush with pink. She hums softly, swiftly lifting her head from her hand and making her way from the chair to waltz over to where he’s leaning against the counter.

She snakes her arms around his waist, underneath the fabric of the apron that’s still tied to his neck before resting her chin upon his chest. Her hands rub up and down his bare back while his hands claim their territory on her waist.

“And you,” she smirks, her hands now roaming to his abdomen and resting upon the ferns inked perfectly on this skin, “you look as beautiful and handsome as ever.”

He sighs in amusement before bending down some to press a kiss upon her lips. It’s quite rough and lustful, however, it’s nothing less than passionate.

Y/n’s hands are relentless along his body and Harry knows it’s because they never have the time to have a proper date. And although what he’d set up in the kitchen isn’t practically proper, it’s the most they can make from the circumstances and Y/n can’t appreciate it enough.

“Keep touching me like that and we’ll be missing our little date.” He chuckles against her lips, “And you’ll be covered in marks when you see my mom again. Know you wouldn’t like that.”

“Wouldn’t.” She shakes her head softly, “Not asking for anything more, just—“ she sighs, her arms now slinging over his shoulders with her fingers intertwined behind his neck in hopes of somehow moving him closer than he already is, “just wanna love on you a bit.”

Her forehead is pressed to his collarbone with her eyes closed, just embracing every last bit of him. No matter how they live, they always manage to make the most out of the very little they have and she knows she wouldn’t be so content if she was living so shitty without him.

He rocks her back and forth gently between his arms, knowing very well that he’s been blessed with something much more than her love. And as much as he wants to express it, there are days he never gets the chance to, so it’s times like these he’s able to make up for all his missing affection.

“Would love to stay like this all night, love, but we have two hours until we have to make our way to the airport and I’d really love it if we enjoy our last dinner alone for the next month.”


“I can’t believe this is really happening.” He whispers, his hand tugging back the roots of his hair as they finally settle into their designated seats.

As much as Harry prepared for this moment, there was really nothing that could have prevented him from becoming so overwhelmed. He could feel the excitement burry in his bones, so much so his entire body feels as if it’s clenching as a way to relieve it.

In only four hours he’ll be in his hometown of Holmes Chapel, and in nearly five hours he’ll be right back at home, snuggled on the couch with his mum and girlfriend watching a stupid romantic comedy him and Anne always watched when he was a kid. He’s been waiting too goddamn long to live that moment and no it’s only five hours away.

Y/n giggles when his hands run down his cheeks with an open mouthed smile. She’s highly amused by how shocked he still is, despite the fact that he had a decent amount of time to wrap his head around the situation. She thinks it’s the damn cutest thing and she wants that smile on him forever; he’s never looked prettier.

“Well, you better believe it because it’s definitely happening. Just a plane ride away from being right where you need to be right now.”

He smiles softly at her before reaching over to press her against him. The armrest in their way of getting closer but neither of them seem to mind as she leans over to kiss his lips gently.

“Work so hard, you deserve this.”

“My sweets.” He mumbles against her lips, his eyes kept closed as he rests his mouth against the corner of her lips, his arms held tightly around her as he embraces the feeling of her against him—a feeling of which he could never grow tired of. “You’re my everything, you know. Don’t know what I’d do without you. Can’t thank you enough.”

“Hm” she hums graciously, shuffling to find room to scoot her body closer to his.

Her cheeks heat up at his words and the way his hands caress her body in the most delicate way possible. Her entire world is held right up against her and she’s never been more grateful to have sacrificed so much of her time for him. He deserves so much more than what he has and not a part of her doubts that for a second.

Her mouth grazes his t-shirt covered shoulder with a smile on her lips.

“You’ve thanked me enough, know you have.”

His hand makes its way to her cheek, pinching the skin softly between the pads of his fingers while her head moves from his shoulder up so that she can look at him.

“Thanked me a lot.” She chuckles.

Harry smirks, his eyes gleaming between a mix of lust and adoration as he remembers it all. Long, long passionate and lustful nights spent between their sheets, soaking each other in and Harry giving her quite literally all he had. Since spending money was no option, making love to her was the most valuable thing he could provide her with to show just how thankful he was. And even though he wanted to give her more—like a diamond ring to finalize their future or a dozen of roses every day until the departure—his love was really all he had and hearing her in pure euphoria made up for all the guilt in his chest.

Y/n didn’t want more, though. Having him was enough—spending forever with him and being there for him was really all she needed. The material didn’t matter; they were just details that weren’t needed when it came to their relationship. She knew how thankful he was—the endless tears and the constant affection showed her just how appreciative he was and she didn’t want it any other way.

His lips press to hers again, only briefly, before he rests his head back against the seat. He really doesn’t know how he’s gotten so lucky—how he ever deserved somebody like her in his life. She’s his beacon of hope in the midst of his failed and miserable life, and really the only thing that keeps him going through the continuous rough patches.

She’s his absolute everything, and he knows he’d be nothing without her.

“Loving you is the best thing I’ve ever done. Could never love you enough.” He whispers, his fingers reaching out to where her hand is placed on the armrest between them. “Don’t know how I can be without you for three weeks. Not going to get used to it, haven’t been without you for over six years now.”

Y/n’s thought about that, too. She just doesn’t know how to be on her own. There hasn’t been a night she hasn’t fallen asleep next to him and a morning she hasn’t woken up beside him, and she’s not so sure how she’ll cope with him being away for so long.

He’s succumbed every part of her life to the point where he has become her life. Outside of their apartment is nothing but obligations and dead end opportunities, whereas at home—with Harry—there’s everything she’s ever needed. She’s been with him for so long that she genuinely doesn’t know how to be away from him. And although it does sadden her, knowing that Harry will be back in his childhood home is enough to overcome the sorrow in her heart. This is the moment he’s been waiting for and she wouldn’t trade it for the world.

She closes her eyes softly as she places her head on his shoulder, making sure to run over thumb over the palm of his hand as she does so. She rubs her cheek against his skin while she lets out a quiet yawn, finding comfort against his body as her body slowly turns to rest.

“I’m sure you’ll be just fine, sweetums.” She yawns again, “Nothing’s going to be better than a month back at home. Your inner little mummy’s boy is going to go crazy.”

Harry and Y/n both chuckle at her words, both fully aware that even though they won’t be together for a while, Anne is very much well worth it.

Y/n begins to doze off against his shoulder, which Harry would normally find captivatingly endearing and would normally take it upon himself to admire her as she does so—like he always does back at their home—but staying in his seat is almost too much steadiness for his adrenaline can handle. Despite the very little to no sleep Harry has gotten the past two days, there isn’t a single part of his body that isn’t awake and jumping in anticipation for what the next four hours could bring him.

“Next stop, Holmes Chapel.”


“Holy fuck! This is it, Y/n! This is where I used to work!” Harry smiles broadly, quite nearly jumping in his seat as he points to the little town bakery he’s never shut up about.

Y/n is completely mesmerized by it all. Even though the ride from the airport to his house was no less than forty minutes, she has already seen so much of what shaped Harry into the man he is now. Between the bakery, the schools he attended, and where his favorite memories have taken place, it’s as if Y/n is witnessing the life Harry had before her.

Everything Harry has ever talked about is coming to life right before her, and her eyes water at the sight. Although Harry and Y/n have been together for a little over a year before they decided to move away, she has never visited his home town.

It wasn’t that they were necessarily that far from each other, it was just that Y/n grew up much less fortunate than Harry (and he wasn’t very fortunate, to begin with). Her parents were only ever around at night since they worked all throughout the day. Y/n didn’t have a car—or much of anything, really—so Harry visiting her was really the only option they had when it came to seeing each other.

Despite the slight travel it took for them to be together, when they were together, they were together for a while. Whether it was long weekends or even an entire week, their entire relationship was really only built in the confines of her shared studio apartment. It was enough for them, though, at the time.

So between that year spent primarily in Y/n’s hometown, she had only ever had the chance of seeing Anne whenever she had dropped Harry off or picked Harry up. Sure, their parents had met for a small dinner and Anne did visit a couple of other times, but it was nothing how this planned week was going to be with her. Even Y/n is more excited than she expected to be.

“It’s beautiful, Harry. All of this is beautiful, I can’t wait to properly meet your mum.”

“Oh, me too!” He beams. “You have no idea, Y/n! I just know you are going to be acting like best friends by the end of the week! She already loves you so much and she’s going to love you more after this!”

Harry spends the rest of the car ride talking to Y/n about his life back in Cheshire. He talks about the holidays he spent with his family, all the friends he’s made from school and all the local shops, and even talks about what it’s like at home. She finds him repeating himself an awful lot, as if his brain is operating hyperactively but Y/n doesn’t mind a bit. He carries such a love for his childhood that Y/n envies greatly, and his passion when it comes to his family and friends made her heart swell in an entirely different way.  

It’s when the taxi finally turns into his neighborhood does Harry really start to jitter. His legs keep bouncing, his hands keep moving his hair around, his breathing turns harsh, and the words he tries to speak keep stuttering from his mouth.

“We’re here!”

Before the taxi has the time to come to a complete stop at his driveway, Harry is already swinging the door open and nearly throwing himself onto the concrete. Y/n barely has time to follow after him as he begins to run to where Anne is standing by the front door.

“Mumma!”

“Harry!” Anne breathes out, tears already falling freely from her eyes as she begins to meet him halfway.

Harry’s body crashes with hers, his arms wildly moving around Anne’s back as he squeezes her against him. This is the first time he’s felt her in so long that the feeling of her holding him again mixed with her familiar scent—vanilla and cinnamon spice—is like all of Harry’s fondest memories coming back to him.

His mum is here, holding him, kissing his face like she’s never seen it before, sobbing into his shoulder with words he hasn’t heard her speak in years. The reality of it is hitting him so hard, it’s like the world around him disappears into absolute nothingness and his head begins to feel light, almost as if he feels he’s not really existing in this moment but God, he is. He really is.

He’s hysterical, cradling his mum’s head against his chest the way she did to him when he was a child. The tears from his eyes are falling upon her head and her tears are soaking through his t-shirt but neither of them care—neither of them feel it—because the only thing they feel is the overwhelming relief washing over their worries of never seeing each other again.

“Mumma!” He sobs again, his arms practically refusing to let her go, “I m—missed you so m—much, mum. I can’t—I can’t—“

“I know baby, I know.” She weeps. “I missed you so much, my darling.”


It took them twenty minutes before they decided it was time to let go from one another. Tears were still welled up in their eyes and their cheeks were stained from the fallen ones, and even through the blurry sight from the wetness does Anne notice how much Harry has changed throughout the years.

She remembers him being so much more frail, and the stable on his chin showed no sign of being before he moved. His hair is much shorter now than ever before and she has never seen her son so handsome in her entire life.

“You’ve grown up so much!” She exclaims, her hands pressing against his cheeks as she beams up at him. “Look at you, Harry! You’re such a man. You’re the man I always imagined you being and I am so proud of you.”

But I’m a failure he thinks. He’s done absolutely nothing but fail her and it’s something he’ll never be able to forgive himself for. He was her last chance of hope and he completely blew it. For her to stand in front of him and to look him in the eye and genuinely be so proud of him, Harry will never understand.

He shakes his head, though, refusing to let his negative thoughts get to him for the remainder of the trip. This is such a special time for him and he refuses to beat himself up—especially here, especially when he’s with his mum.

Instead, he diverts his attention to the woman in front of him. She’s his rock, his provider through all he’s been through, and the woman that gave him his life. He hadn’t seen her in six years and now that she is here, he notices how she’s still just as beautiful and lovely she looks—how he always remembered her being.

“But you, mum! You haven’t aged a bit! You still look not a day over thirty, I hope to God I get your genes; would be an utter blessing.”

Y/n watches fondly as Harry and Anne make up all the lost time, their nonstop giggles and soft murmurs the only things to be heard on this quiet part of town.

She smiles softly when she sees them hug for what must have been the tenth time since their arrival. It’s truly a wonderful sight to see and Y/n finds it especially heartwarming. She knew Harry has always been a mummy’s boy, but she never got to witness it firsthand, so watching the way Harry treats her—as if she truly is a delicacy—is really something else.

Y/n carefully carries her and Harry’s suitcases from the driveway to the front door, careful to not be too loud or noticeable to interrupt their reunion. She knows they wouldn’t care if she did, however, but she doesn’t want to break them from their trances.

“And Y/n!” Anne nearly screams when she sees Y/n walking in the corner of her eye.

There’s a gasp behind her words as her hands reach up to cup her mouth. The woman who captivated Harry’s heart and made all of this possible is standing right before her, eyes wide with a wide grin on her face.

She’s as beautiful as ever, with her face all natural and her hair swaying perfectly in the wind. Anne has seen Y/n plenty of times through Skype calls but they’ve never done her justice. She’s as close to perfection Anne has ever imagined and she starts to cry again as she stares at the love of Harry’s life.

Anne instantly wraps her arms around Y/n, who quickly drops the baggage she was holding to properly greet her back.

“You’re so beautiful! So much more beautiful than I remember!”

Anne pushes her away softly to get a better look into her eyes, which are gleaming with nothing but love and admiration. Anne clicks her tongue with a smile, her thumbs rubbing against Y/n’s cheek as she begins to speak.

“Thank you so much for everything that you’ve done for us. This wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for you, my dear. And even though my Harry isn’t with me anymore, I am more than blessed to know he’s spending his life with somebody like you.”

Y/n lays her hands on top of where Anne has claimed hers against Y/n’s cheeks, almost as if to hold them in some type of appreciation or reassurance.

It’s calming to know that Anne doesn’t have any type of resentment toward her. Y/n has always felt like an intruder in Harry’s life, or a thief who’s taken him away from his family. Although that’s nowhere near the case, she always did have a fear that Anne would hold some tension with her.

Harry always reassured her that that’s something she never had to worry about, however, it was quite inevitable. But hearing Anne’s words in the sincerity that she spoke, all of the worries and doubts completely washed away.

“I would do anything for your son and I would do anything for his family. He is all I have, along with you, and I always put you guys first. I love him and I knew this was what he needed. I’m more than happy to have done this—for the both of you.”

Y/n leans in to hold her once again, for she has done nothing but bring positivity and love to both her and Harry throughout all the years. She deserves this as much as Harry does—if not more—and she won’t hesitate to keep her as happy as she makes them.

It isn’t long before Anne announces that she’s cooked lunch, which is waiting to be eaten upon the kitchen counter. She even grabs the suitcases before running back inside the house to finish setting the table.

“Not a real home cooked meal without a set table.” She’d always say.

Y/n and Harry are alone again. They’re standing on the patio, watching from the outside looking in on Anne moving in quick movements to make sure everything’s set in place. They giggle at her, admiring her from afar and embracing this undeniably beautiful feeling.

Y/n sighs contently before she makes the first move to go to where Anne is serving the food in the kitchen, but before she has time to even get her foot through the door, Harry’s got a hold on her wrist. He pulls her into him, where Y/n huffs from the unexpected collision of their chests.

“What are you—oh!“

His lips swallow the words she was previously speaking, his hand pushing her head right up against his so that her lips move deeper into his. He’s savoring the taste and embracing the feeling of her kisses, properly this time now that he’s not full of adrenaline.

“I fucking love you.” Harry growls when his lips are free from hers.

His fingers rake the hair from her scalp down to where the ends rest against her back, his eyes staring into her glossed ones as he keeps her close to him.

“What would I ever do without you, my love?”

Need More Tit in Your Life?

Here is a list of all my pages.  If you love big tits, big milky tits and tit loving girls, you will definitely like some of these pages.   Scroll down for worship pages dedicated to your favorites.  Some sites I use for inspiration for my Sindee Lipstick stories, my gorgeous heroine, always looking for a prettier girl and bigger titties.  If you love massive and milky, handmilking or machine pumping,yay, SO DO I!   Enjoy these, and keep coming back.  I’m constantly adding the biggest loveliest titties I can find!

Barbsullivan  - My name’s Barb, and I absolutely love big tits on pretty girls.

Hungryfortit - I’m definitely hungry for tit.  

Bilkmilkyudders - Let me Milk you

Titmistress - let me train you, tittiegirls

Beautifuludders - I love the beautiful big ones

Sindeelipstick - Sindee’s favorite tittiegirls, up for anything

Headlesstittiegirls - No heads, just tits

Tittiegirldelights - i love complete packages,

Favoritemegatits - More of My Favorites

Tittiegirlgifs - moving tits.  Yum

Abbiworship - mmmm, let these massive titties sway, Abbi

Girlssuckingbigtitties - count me in

Veneraworship - nasty, skinny blonde with huge tits - dreamy

Kristinaworship - Look at these Milkers

Maximoomworship - My number one Maxi Moom, gorgeous milkers

Stuffedbraworship - I love to stuff and unstuff bras

Anekeeworship - sheesh, look at those nipples

Nastytittiegirls - I love nasty girls

Blondetittiegirls - I love nasty blonde tittie girls

Lantiworship - nice and big, we need more Lanti

Mioworship - dream tits of Mio

Searchingfortittiegirls - always looking for fresh ripe titties

Delightfulnipples - mouth watering nipples

Hitomiworship - tit queen Hitomi, delicious

Asiantittiegirlworship - those nasty nasty Asian girls

Udderlylarge - big ones

Bimbotittiegirls - gorgeous fantasy bimbos

Mickybellsworship - always gorgeous and now huge and milky

Milenaworship - Milena inspires girls to suck tit

Justenormoustits - more of my favorites

Septembercarinotits - dang those nipples

Tittiegirl101 -  criteria

Samanthaliliworship - pretty

Milkynadine - mmmm, her nipples got so dark, she just a fountain

Absolutefavoritetittiegirls - I love playing favorites

Milkymilena - the massive milky beauties of Milena

Milkykatarina - pretty thing and milky too

Tittiegirlharem - My dream harem

Sindeestittiegirlencounters - more Sindee fantasy big boob fiction

Vintageknockers - titties of yesteryear

Tittiegirlsexposingtheirgoodd —yes that’s right, my typo

Leannecrowworship - gorgeous basketballs

Strappedupbigtitties - better for licking

Tittiegirlmaids - put on your uniform and show me your titties

Pumpingbigtits - Machines on massive titties

Girlssuckingbigmilkers - girls enjoying breastfeeding

Justleakingudders - watch them drip

Bigtittiesgettingmilked - sometimes you’ve got to hand milk

Mormongirlsgonewild - I love that nasty underwear

Justnadine - not even dripping…mostly before she was knocked up

hugeudderworship - worship these

Icing (Grayson)

⚤ - CONTAINS SMUT

“Are you sure he’s gonna like this?” You asked, chewing on the inside of your lip as Grayson pulled the cake from the oven.

“Am I sure my twin brother who I know better than I know myself is going to like this cake that happens to be his favourite?”

You stuck your tongue out at your boyfriend.

“Fuck you.” You laughed, swatting him with a dish towel. Grayson laughed along with you, placing the vanilla cake on the counter. You admired how even though it was his birthday too he was thinking only of Ethan and making the day special for him. It was one of the things you loved about him, his selflessness, but truthfully you loved everything about him.

Keep reading

My Tumblr Pages dedicated to Massive Titties

Here is a list of all my pages.  If you love big tits, big milky tits and tit loving girls, you will definitely like some of these pages.  Scroll down for worship pages dedicated to your favorites.  Some sites I use for inspiration for my Sindee Lipstick stories, my gorgeous heroine, always looking for a prettier girl and bigger titties.  If you love massive and milky, handmilking or machine pumping,yay, SO DO I!  Enjoy these, and keep coming back.  I’m constantly adding the biggest loveliest titties I can find!

Barbsullivan  - My name’s Barb, and I absolutely love big tits on pretty girls.

Hungryfortit - I’m definitely hungry for tit. 

Bilkmilkyudders - Let me Milk you

Titmistress - let me train you, tittiegirls

Beautifuludders - I love the beautiful big ones

Sindeelipstick - Sindee’s favorite tittiegirls, up for anything

Headlesstittiegirls - No heads, just tits

Tittiegirldelights - i love complete packages,

Favoritemegatits - More of My Favorites

Tittiegirlgifs - moving tits.  Yum

Abbiworship - mmmm, let these massive titties sway, Abbi

Girlssuckingbigtitties - count me in

Veneraworship - nasty, skinny blonde with huge tits - dreamy

Kristinaworship - Look at these Milkers

Maximoomworship - My number one Maxi Moom, gorgeous milkers

Stuffedbraworship - I love to stuff and unstuff bras

Anekeeworship - sheesh, look at those nipples

Nastytittiegirls - I love nasty girls

Blondetittiegirls - I love nasty blonde tittie girls

Lantiworship - nice and big, we need more Lanti

Mioworship - dream tits of Mio

Searchingfortittiegirls - always looking for fresh ripe titties

Delightfulnipples - mouth watering nipples

Hitomiworship - tit queen Hitomi, delicious

Asiantittiegirlworship - those nasty nasty Asian girls

Udderlylarge - big ones

Bimbotittiegirls - gorgeous fantasy bimbos

Mickybellsworship - always gorgeous and now huge and milky

Milenaworship - Milena inspires girls to suck tit

Justenormoustits - more of my favorites

Septembercarinotits - dang those nipples

Tittiegirl101 -  criteria

Samanthaliliworship - pretty

Milkynadine - mmmm, her nipples got so dark, she just a fountain

Absolutefavoritetittiegirls - I love playing favorites

Milkymilena - the massive milky beauties of Milena

Milkykatarina - pretty thing and milky too

Tittiegirlharem - My dream harem

Sindeestittiegirlencounters - more Sindee fantasy big boob fiction

Vintageknockers - titties of yesteryear

Tittiegirlsexposingtheirgoodd —yes that’s right, my typo

Leannecrowworship - gorgeous basketballs

Strappedupbigtitties - better for licking

Tittiegirlmaids - put on your uniform and show me your titties

Pumpingbigtits - Machines on massive titties

Girlssuckingbigmilkers - girls enjoying breastfeeding

Justleakingudders - watch them drip

Bigtittiesgettingmilked - sometimes you’ve got to hand milk

Mormongirlsgonewild - I love that nasty underwear

Justnadine - not even dripping…mostly before she was knocked up

hugeudderworship - worship these

Neighbour Part Two | Jimin, You

Part One | Part Two | Part Three 


Part Two of my Father!Jimin AU! I hope you like it! :)

Originally posted by jjks

If I know what love is, it is because of you.

Every day after that was a new adventure, how was your body going to react when he smiled at you this time? Was it going to go into overdrive again and prevent your fingers from working? Or were you going to lose your breath and have a heart attack?

Keep reading

Unanswered

Request: Jughead is asexual, but becomes confused because he gets weird feelings whenever he sees you.

Requested by: anonymous

Masterlist: https://beronica-josie.tumblr.com/post/157919516668/masterlist

JUGHEAD’S POV

Great. I was already late for the first day of school. I didn’t really care about the tardy, but my first period was creative writing, the only class I was actually excited for. I wanted to miss as little as possible.

I rushed down the hall, eyes searching for room 1208. Once I found it, I stopped, straightened my bag, and opened the door.

Every face turned towards me as I walked into the room. Mrs. Holt turned away from what she was writing on the board to give me a stern look. “And why are we late, Mr….?”

“Jughead Jones. And, uh, my alarm didn’t go off this morning.”

She glared at me over the edge of her glasses before gesturing to the only open seat in the back of the room. “Take a seat, Mr. Jones. And don’t be late again.”

As I walked towards my new seat, my eyes rested on the girl in the next desk over. She was too absorbed by whatever she was reading to even glance up at me as I sat down.

Not long after I had gotten settled in, Mrs. Holt had given us an assignment. “To get to know your new classmates, I want each of you to partner up with the person next to you and write a detailed description of them. Today I want you to focus on their appearance and tomorrow we’ll work on describing personality traits.”

I sighed. I didn’t really want to have to talk to more of the people in this school than I had to. Of course Mrs. Holt had to ruin this class for me.

I turned towards the girl next to me. She hadn’t looked up from her book all period. I cleared my throat to get her attention. She sighed, closing her book and looking up at me.

As she looked into my eyes, my breath caught in my throat, causing me to cough. She was so much prettier than she seemed at first. I definitely wouldn’t have a problem describing every detail of her face.

Wait. Was I actually excited? To stare at some girl whose name I didn’t even know?

“Yes?” She asked, seeming a bit impatient.

“Uh, we have to do the assignment…” I trailed off as I stared at the wall over her head. I didn’t want to creep her out by staring at her. I already knew it was going to be weird when we had to do this assignment.

“What is it?”

“We have to, um, describe each other’s appearances.”

She reached into her bag and pulled out a notebook. She continued to rummage around in her bag as I took out my laptop and opened it.

“Uh, hey. Do you have a pencil I can borrow?” She asked, flashing an awkward smile. It was pretty cute.

"Cute”? Did I really think that was “cute”? I’ve never called a girl “cute” before. What was happening?

"Yeah.” I reached into my bag and grabbed a pencil. As I reached over to hand her the pencil, her fingers brushed gently across my hand. I could feel the warmth of her skin touching mine and as soon as her fingers were gone, the area she had touched turned cold. I retracted my hand quickly and began rubbing them together in hopes of warming up.

What was happening? All I had done was briefly touch the girl’s hand. Why did her touch warm my skin so much? I wanted to feel that warmth again. I wanted to hold her hand.

Wait what?? I’ve never been one for physical affection, but this girl was doing something weird to me.

"I’m [Y/N],”

"What?” My mind snapped out of its trance.

"I’m [Y/N]. You’re going to need my name for the writing assignment.” She laughed.

Oh. I shook my head, trying to clear it. Focus, Jughead. Focus on your assignment.

"Why don’t you turn your desk towards mine so it’s easier for us to look at each other?”

I did as she suggested and we both began to work in silence. I thought it would be awkward to have to stare at this girl and have her stare back at me, but every time she looked up at me, I felt my heart speed up.

Every once in a while our eyes would meet, and she would smile at me. I couldn’t help but smirk back.

I got so caught up in my staring and writing that I jumped when the bell rang.

[Y/N] was already standing and packing her bag to go. I couldn’t let her walk away without a plan to see her again.

"Um, [Y/N]?”

“Yeah, Jughead?”

“I didn’t finish my writing…” Was I supposed to ask her for a picture? No, that was creepy. “Can we meet up at Pop’s tonight around 6 so I can finish?” I asked cautiously. I didn’t want to come on too strong. I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to finish my writing or if I just wanted to see her again before tomorrow.

“Yeah, sure.” She smiled brightly. “See you then.” She waved as she slung her backpack on her shoulder and walked away.

I stayed in my seat, shocked by my actions. All of this was so uncharacteristic of me. Did I… like… a girl? I had so many unanswered questions.

Well, I guess there are worse fates than ending up the absolute epitome of a, “Prettyboy Meathead” who’s “All Brawn and no Brain” or a, “Smelly Brute”

You see, I used to be the captain of the Chess Club. Short, scrawny, specky redheaded beanpole with acne, a lisp, stuttering with anxiety. But now, They really did a number on me…

Who’s they? The football team! That’s who! They’d been bullying me ever since I transferred to this school, having argued for home schooling instead, but losing out and ending up a freshman here. They targeted me right off the bat, first day, “fresh meat” as they called me, while throwing me into a dumpster. This repeated itself for a few weeks, until finally I’d had enough, and lost it.

Yup, I admit it, I lost it. Total tantrum. But I swear, I didn’t mean to break the quarterback’s ankle! All I’d meant to do is… well, I mean I didn’t know what I meant to do, I just charged at him, screaming about how they were all just pretty trophy boys, worthless mindless meatheads, disgusting sweaty animals, plowing head first into his rock solid abs. We both went tumbling down the wheelchair ramp, myself stopped by a column, while he continued, crashing into a display case and howling in a deep rumbling rage.

That afternoon, when the nurse and the ambulance EMT’s concurred that his ankle was shattered in 2 places, taking him off the roster for the big game and chance at the championship, the team was not so thrilled with me. Hell, the whole damn school wanted to lynch me! I had to leave early, my parents getting a phone call to pick me up. I was reamed out the whole way home. My mother nearly had an asthma attack she was screeching so loud.

My dad, while still joining in on the reaming, seemed almost, proud. There was a little shimmer in his eye that I’d never seen before. It lasted only a second though as my mom hit her stride and went into full parental meltdown. I’d never seen her this angry.

Only a day passed before we got a call from the school. I was expelled, unless my parents and I agreed to a few demands. My mother, trying to save my academic career, agreed before even hearing them. My dad though, agreed to a meeting with the Principal, and oddly, the coach of the Football team.

Heading over to the school was like a motorized death march. The car ride dead silent, treading into the school and down to the Sports offices where both the Coach and Principal were having a heated debate. I only caught a blurb or two before they noticed us and quieted down. Something about “coach’s special training”

I found out during the hour long meeting, that the Coach had me in mind for replacing Blake, the Quarterback I’d taken off the field. Everyone, including the principal had their reasons as to why I couldn’t, myself as well, but Coach wouldn’t have it. He claimed that he could have me in playing condition before the big game, and, if I played, I could keep going to school, the expulsion would be voided.

Again, my mom agreed fully, signing the forms before my dad could stop her. My dad though, asked questions. The answered were vague, everything was about “focus, drive, determination, and making up for my mistakes” After a good 25 minute spiel, my dad too signed the form, signing my academic life away to a man who was quite literally an entire team’s worth of brawn packed into one.

Long story short, the game was in 6 weeks. My training started immediately, as well as a strict diet, supplements that coach provided, all of my study halls and my time on the chess team was forfeited to Coach, during which I was to watch football videos and take notes.

Weird thing is, after a few videos and days taking the supplements, I couldn’t really take notes… Strange, as I’d been a straight A Student. I just couldn’t. It was too boring. Even stranger, I couldn’t sit still. My body felt jolted and alive, my muscles aching and warm, feeling like they were going to burst off of me. I sat, squirming in my seat watching the videos, mindlessly taking in the plays, when, day by day, my body seemed to change.

First came the sweat. No matter how little I was active. Even just sitting at school or home, I was sweating, sometimes profusely. Soaking through my clothes, and, rather embarrassingly, stinking through my deodorant and body wash. by day 3, I reeked, constantly, I could smell myself. People noticed as well, the football team calling me stinky, and Jockstrap. Others moved away from me in the halls, or left seats empty near me in classes. However, sometimes I’d catch some of the prettier girls, especially the ditzy Barbie type, taking side glances at me, their eyes lingering on me for a moment before shaking their heads and running off giggling

Then came the muscle spasms and odd unexplained growth spurts. I was a late bloomer, short and thin. but each passing day added a bit of height, a bit of weight, becoming more solid and dense. I had one night in particular where I woke up screaming in pain as my body cracked and expanded, until I’d ended up a week later, 6′2″ 140lbs or so, looking solid, but not brawny. Well, not brawny, YET.

After the growth spurts, the videos lessened, and it was time for on field practice. Alone at first, then with the team. I can’t remember most of it, Coach would say something strange to me, and I’d lose track of time, waking up dazed and dizzy in the locker room with a towel around my waist, wet from the shower, or naked soaping up my body mindlessly as the hot water boiled away my thoughts.

I noticed now that I had bushy, wiry hair under my arms, and a dense collection around my groin, which, after the 4rth practice wearing a cup, felt packed and swollen. Each night I was jerking off load after load, feeling as if each jet caused my balls to swell and churn, until after a week, I had a veritable salami between my legs, with egg sized nuts in a musky, furry sack. The team took notice too, and started calling me Donkey. a nickname that encompassed my densely packed bulk, my large pendulous cock, and the always constant reek of musty stink coming off my body.

It was at this point that my mother tried to stop the whole thing. She cried when she watched my grades plummet, watched me get bigger, brawny and brutish, while out nightly dinner talks about the day and world news skidded to a halt, replaced by football, coach, the team, girls. My dad however, loved every moment! He’d even helped me move out all of my nerdy crap from my room, to replace it with a  weight bench and a shelf for future trophies.

After practiced and the changed to my body, coach had me work up my arms to beefy, thick bulging dense pythons, my biceps rounded, with a vein running down its length even at resting. My chest as well, widened my shoulders and held my pads up like a statue. I was quite built now, lumbering round at about 162lbs, when he stopped me after a grueling workout, held my head in his hands and said it was time for the last details in my reparations for ruining his star player.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, as he brought out a tin with gel inside, a pair of cleats that looked about 4 sizes too big, and a jockstrap and cup that seemed to pulsate menacing in his hand. without pause, he greased up his gloved hands and smeared the gel into my hair. it burned, and smelled of sulfur. I thought he was going to make me bald! Until I felt my hair thickening, rustling on its own with the gel mixing with my sweat, leaving me with an oddly boyish, yet decidedly bro-like Bieber cut. I could see my reflection in one of the mirrors, my hair was that of one of those pretty boys you see on TV! Thick and luscious, styled perfectly to the side, it’d stay like this without effort, as I found out soon after.

Then he forced me to sit on the bench behind me, took off my size 12 workout sneakers, tossed them across the room into a bin for lost and found items, and stuffed my feet into the huge cleats he’d brought in. My bare foot sunk into the sole of the cleat, feeling its warm, slimy texture. It felt like it’d recently been warn by a whole team during a month’s worth of games and practices. My feet itched intensely, all I could do was grunt In protest as the material seemed to tighten around my toes. Odd though, they didn’t seem to be moving. Hearing a few harsh, cracking pops and feeling searing pain in my feet, then a disgusting, foul smell rising upward, Coach took the cleats off, and I was staring down at a pair of size 16 boats. Long splayed toes shining with sweat in the fluorescent lighting, stinking up the room, looking masculine and raunchy. He covered his nose with his collar and muttered, “fucking athlete’s foot, always brutal” as I felt the burning sensation between my toes.

Then, as I tried to use my new strength to break Coach’s hold on me, he pulled down my gym shirts, then my jockstrap, letting my hefty, hairy meat free. He wolf whistled, giving me a wink as he slipped the jockstrap up my legs, then stuffed the cup in the pouch, hefting my cock and balls into it. I was right, it was pulsating! It felt like it was gripping my package, squeezing hard, then letting go, repeating over and over rhythmically. As it did so, I could feel my balls churning up a thick, heavy load, while a sudden head rush seemed to knock my brain out of my skull. I felt high, dizzy, horny, as my entire body seemed to warm up, then it felt like I was boiling on the inside, as a dim, dull rag seemed to fill my head. I felt my crotch start to itch, and a burning in my throat. I grunted, them moaned, my voice cracking harshly upward, embarrassingly, before dropping low and dumb, a deep, dim sounding baritone rumble.

M head filled with thoughts of wild, aggressive games, fucking like a stallion, working out till I couldn’t move, all while the cup seemed to milk up a steady drizzle of precum that, I’d find out later, would continue to pour from me at the slightest thought of passing glance of a pretty chick. I felt the need to pound my opponents into the dirt on the field, my whole body in fire, as coach whispered all my new desperate desires for sports, sex, being a man, filling me with pent up needs. Then, he ripped the jock and cup off me as my eyes rolled back in my head, told me to get changed into the outfit you see above, for my Team photo in the yearbook. I grunted, “fuck yeah” and dressed, stating at the Smelly brute, with the pretty boy good looks and dim, no brains behind the eyes state, as he took my photo, and I filled my pants with cum.

You're No Peter Parker! || Peter Parker x Reader

{summary: you unintentionally get super drunk at a party, forcing your friendly neighborhood spider-man to come to your rescue as he escorts you home.}

tonight’s been a stressful night for me, so i need some peter parker fluff. i promise i’ll work on requests as soon as i’m better…my anxiety has been through the roof and today was a particularly bad day….

but i’ll get better, i promise. so here, how about me and you indulge in some peter fluff?

**please if you have any respect for the writer at all, do not repost/plagiarize this story. reblogs are fine.**

warnings: drunk kisses, tbh

——

You had no idea what crazy part of your brain thought that attending a party was a good idea. You weren’t the particularly social type, and the fact that you were surrounded by girls making out with several guys from the next door fraternity house made this all the more unbearable for you.

Keep reading

Treetop Confessions

Summary: An accident in training causes feelings to be confessed.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Language, implied sex.

A/N: I wanted to make a Loki or a Thor story in honor of the Ragnarok trailer, and I still may of y’all wanna see one, send me requests for either one of them! I just had this one in writing for so long and I FINALLY finished it. So Voila`!

Originally posted by stuckwithbuck

Ever since Bucky fucking Barnes came to the compound, I have NEVER been the same. The man showed up, and all of a sudden I lost all control of my emotions, hormones and body. Literally everything just fell apart. Also, I haven’t gotten laid in over 3 years. 3 YEARS. I’m not the type to take someone home and sleep with them once, or to be friends with benefits. It’s been my only promise to myself, to not have sex with a random stranger JUST because I’m feeling frisky, that’s what I have toys for. I only have sex with someone when I’m in a relationship with them. HOWEVER, James Buchanan Barnes may make me throw out every promise I’ve ever made to myself and not think twice about it. The sad part is I don’t really even know him very well, we only say a few words to one another. For the longest time I thought the guy just didn’t like me, and Steve had to reassure me that’s not the case, he just doesn’t know how to socialize anymore, and certainly doesn’t know how to talk to women. It’ll take some time, and I understand that. Doesn’t make it any less frustrating that I can’t get over this stupid school girl crush I have on the guy.

Keep reading

Charming

Originally posted by ethereal-baek

Sehun, prince!AU

Chapters: (1) / (2) / … // masterlist

Summary: Looks can be deceiving. Oh Sehun is far from being a prince charming.

Born as the first child of the last King of Yangdon, you’d expect me to be living the life. As a princess I was showered with dresses made of the finest materials and by the best hands. I never had had to worry about food - or had financial issues. Tiaras and diamonds were as common for me as candy is for commoners.

At first glance, that might sound like a dream - but I can tell you that all things materialistic things don’t outweigh having freedom and being able to love. 

That is the price people with blue blood have to pay.

I will be marrying someone for my country - not for myself. I have no say in anything regarding my love life.

As the firstborn of the King, I am the rightful heir to the throne. However there is one catch, I must wed to become a Queen. Until then, my mother will be in charge as my highest confidant.

Before my father passed away he made a promise to one of his childhood best friends that he would wed me to his friend’s son - if necessary. It seems like he already foresaw his early death and made this promise in order to help me. Apparently my father was fond of his son - Oh Sehun. Who by description should be my age.

Now that I am in a car to meet him for the first time.

When I finally arrive at the court of my soon-to-be husband, I feel myself growing more and more nervous. What if he doesn’t like me? What if he’s a bad man who won’t treat me right?

I step out of the car and look around. The castle was breathtaking. Trees of bright colors surrounded it like armies defending their citadel. A fountain was just in of the castle serving as a roundabout. But the castle itself was just exquisite. Judging by its style it was most likely built with the French King Louis XIIV in mind, because it looks like chateau de Versailles but just smaller - a lot smaller.

My mom and I make our way towards the entrance and from a distance I can see the King and Queen Oh of Hondo waiting to welcome us. Staff on the side bow to us politely and my mother and I smile back.

Behind the King and Queen I see a young handsome face that must belong to Oh Sehun.. the prince I will be marrying..

“Welcome!” The King greets us. “We are delighted to have you here.” He looks very calm and collected. A King who is amiable.

The Queen takes my hand but quickly decides to hug me too. “Welcome, darling. We have been waiting for you.” She too - looks like a person I can be comfortable with.

Next the young man steps forward and gives me a hand and a bright smile. I feel time slowing down for a second and I swallow. He is incredibly handsome. He has those wide innocent angelic eyes and cherry red lips. He might even be prettier than I am.

“Nice to meet you, princess. We have been expecting you.” He gives me a wink and I’m immediately melting. His voice is calm and sweet like a lullaby.

“Nice to meet you too, prince Sehun.” I smile back.

The atmosphere suddenly changes completely and I can see the face of the man in front of me fall. I can hear an awkward cough from behind me and suddenly looks are being exchanged - except with me.

“Ehh..” Sehun scratches the back of his head in awkwardness. Did I say something wrong?

My face turns red and when the Queens decides to help me out my face turns red and my stomach drops. “My dear, that is not Sehun. This is Luhan.. his brother.”

I wish the earth would swallow me up. I hear staff snickering in amusement. I feel so stupid for not even recognizing the man I’m going to marry. Instead I mistakenly think his brother is my fiancé.

But if this isn’t my soon-to-be husband then where on earth is he?

As if on queue I hear the sound of a vehicle on gravel. I turn around to see a white golf cart racing its way into the crowd. A few people move away in order not to get hit.

What the heck?!

The speeder stops right in the middle of the crowd and a tall male steps out of the cart in silk pajamas. I stare at him incredulously..

You’ve got to be kidding me..

Don’t tell me..

I’m not only shocked and infuriated for almost being hit by a freaking golf cart. I’m livid because I have a great feeling this is my fiancé and as a cherry on top he is accompanied by two barely clothed women on his side.

If this is my fiancé, then he treating me as a joke already.

I shouldn’t be taking this.

Not as the next Queen of my country.

Please let this not be Oh Sehun. Please let this not be Oh Sehun. I chant in my head.

Yet my worst fear comes true.

“Oh Sehun,” he introduces himself and extends a hand. When I don’t shake it he takes it back with a shrug and circles his arms around those two.. I don’t even have words for them.

The look on Queen Oh’s face is apologetic. She knows her son is being disrespectful towards me.

I am being treated as a complete joke.

I seriously can’t believe he doesn’t have the decency to welcome me like the rest of his family - in normal clothes. Instead he shows up by nearly killing people and two.. women on his arm.

Shoot me.

Right now.

“I take that this is my wife?” Sehun steps towards me and just stares. His face is stoic and every inch of him tells me he doesn’t like me. His posture is defensive and hostile.

Five minutes ago I felt welcomed and actually quite warmly received but all of that is now in the trashcan.

My face turns to my mom in help, and even she is utterly shocked by this show. Every part of her is holding itself back to not take me away but my country needs this marriage to go through and we all know that.

I wish my dad could see me now. Surely he would put a spot to this marriage.

This is not the kind of person I want on my side leading my country.

The King is twitching in anger too and decides to divert the attention from his son’s stupidity. “Let’s get everyone inside.” He smiles but I can sense his frustration. “Max!” He yells for one of his staff and a man in black suit with headset and all comes to the front.

“On it majesty.” He immediately knows what the King wants.

While I’m being ushered inside I turn around for a second and see Max preventing Sehun’s ladies from entering the castle with us.

“I’ll talk to you later about this stunt.” The King points into Sehun’s face and when he turns around Sehun rolls his eyes.

On Sehun’s side there is another man in suit making sure he follows the group.

I try to distance myself from my fiancé. This is going to be a wild marriage. On my right I feel a light tug on my sleeve. “I apologize for my brother.” It’s Luhan and he looks troubled. “He just has a hard time accepting an arranged marriage. He’s trying to protest against it. It’s nothing personal. I promise he isn’t like this.”

I smile back and nod. Yet Sehun’s actions still don’t sit well with me after those words.

This is the person I’m going to marry..?

I don’t feel well.

All of us are seated in the living room and I was right. The castle is beautifully rococo styled. Staff brings us tea and some delights to munch on.

While my mom and the Queen are chatting like women do and the King and Crown Prince try to make small talks with me, I can feel Sehun’s eyes on me. He has his arms and legs folded and his lips are pulled into a thin line.

He is staring at me.

I turn to him. Maybe he’ll tear his gaze away from me if I look back.

But he doesn’t.

We meet eyes and instead of looking away he just keeps a straight face while staring. All of a sudden he shakes his head laughing and  shoots me a dirty smirk. I shift uncomfortably.

He slowly opens his mouth. Not to say anything but just to mouth four little words for only me to see.

‘I… don’t…. like… you.’

a/n: yayyy asshole prince sehun! tell me what you think! i also didnt proofread this ;-; sorryyy

piece of art

♡ smut | masterlist 

// harry and y/n take a trip to MoMA and her art studio, where things get a little messy

-

paint my kiss across your chest
if you’re the art, i’ll be the brush

-bad liar, selena gomez

“You’re prettier than all of the art in here.” Harry states. He flops his long arm across my shoulders as we stand looking at Andy Worhol’s Campbell’s Soup Cans. “I mean, it’s just a bunch of soup cans. I could’ve come up with that.”

I roll my eyes at his cheesy comment and laugh at his unappreciative nature towards art. “It’s Andy Worhal.”

“It’s not creative, y/n.” Harry looks at me and takes my hand in his, pulling me away from the soup cans. His heavy tan sweater sways lightly while he walks. His hands are clammy, just like usual. “You on the other hand, are the most creative, most beautiful person I know. Your art should be here. You should be in here,” he beams.

“I am in here.” I reply, looking up at him. The hat he has on makes him look different- younger, maybe.

“No, like on display. I want everyone to see how beautiful you are- wait no, on second thought, I don’t want anyone looking at you.” Harry shakes his head and takes his lip between his index finger and thumb.

“Why not? You said yourself, I’m prettier than all of the art in here,” I counter, though I completely disagree with his statement.

“Because having you on display would mean that other people would get to look at you and I want to be the only one who gets to look at y/n, the most beautiful and priceless piece of art that ever was.” Harry finishes his sentence with a kiss to my right temple. This leaves my cheeks burning and my mind wondering why this public act of affection is affecting me the way it is. All we would ever be seen doing is holding hands. Never kissing, never even hugging in public.

“People stare at you everyday and you don’t see me having a problem with it.” I cross my arms over my chest, sending him attitude.

“That’s because you don’t see me as a piece of art, love. I look at you and I see the most delicate, most intricate, most delightful thing created.” He flashes a smile at me again, and I wonder why he would ever think I don’t see him as a piece of art. Maybe he’s more than art to me. Maybe he’s my world, my lifeline, the oxygen in my lungs.

Harry yawns. “Can we go to your apartment? I’m tired.” Waking up before the sun does, performing on the Today Show and promising your girlfriend you’d go to MoMA with her can be exhausting.

“Yeah, Haz, we can go home.” I quietly say while he rubs his eyes. His sweater sleeves are far too long, even for his lanky arms. I notice him grabbing onto the ends of his sleeve, to keep the cool new york air away from his skin when we walk out the door. He grabs my hand with his uncovered one, a cool contrast to my always warm ones. Both of our chelsea boots clank on the dirty sidewalk and we do our best to avoid paparazzi, however we do stop to say hello to a few fans.

Once we settle into the range rover waiting for us, I tell Harry that I need to stop by my studio before we go back to my apartment. I say to him that he can stay in the car and that it’ll only be a few moments but he insists on coming up with me.

“Wow, this is intense.” He says closing the door. It’s a small studio with the tiniest bathroom and kitchen imaginable. It was my first home in Manhattan. Harry looks around my work area, careful not to trip over the paint stained sheet I have layed out on the floor to protect the wood underneath. He glances at the canvas on one of my three easels, the one he so graciously gifted me with. “Is this me?” He points to the unfinished painting.

I nod. “Yeah, I started that while you were in Jamaica. All from memory.”

“You’re so incredible.” He comes up behind me and rests his chin on the top of my head. Our height difference always makes me giggle. His arms slip underneath my sweater and shirt, finding spots on my warm torso to leave his cold hands. The contact makes me scream.

“Harry! Your hands are so fucking cold, get them off of me.” I wiggle away from his grasp and he frowns.

“I was trying to warm up, poppet,” Harry tries to justify his actions.

“Well you’re not warming up by putting your freezing cold hands on me,” I say while trying to find the gallery showing application I was given.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll turn on the thermostat.”

“No Harry, I came to pick up this application.” I wave the paper in front of him. “We can go now.”

Harry narrows his eyes and looks around the studio again. “No, I want to stay here and try something.”

My eyebrows knit together in a confused fashion. He begins walking over to my paints and rummages through the bottles. “What are you doing?” I question.

“I wanna try something,” He repeats. “Strip for me.” He continues blatantly. Turning around, he holds three bottles of paint in each of his large hands. He looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to take off my clothes but I remain wide eyed and completely clothed. Like he said, It’s still very cold in the studio and I have no clue as to what he’s planning on doing. Harry puts the paint down on the table closer to where I’m standing. He walks towards me and takes my jacket off. I reluctantly let him but still wonder what’s going on inside his head. “Can you at least tell me what you’re doing?” I question.

Harry bites his lip, hiding a smile from me. I hate it when he bites his lip because I love seeing him smile, but on the other hand there’s something mysterious to this lip bite. “Just trust me, okay? Look, I’ll even turn on the heat for you and we can stand in front of the heater,” he suggests.

“Harry…” I begin.

He pouts his lip. “Please, poppet?”

I groan as I’m unable to resist his begging eyes. “Fine,” I comply before pulling my shirt off of me, shuddering as the cold air hits my skin. Harry shuffles us closer to the air vent so I won’t freeze down to my bones.

“Pants, too.” He gestures. “Everything, love. I want everything off.” He unbuttons my jeans and moves his hands around my waist so that they’re resting right above my bum. He kneels down so he can be eye level with my stomach. He presses his lips to my already exposed belly button while reaching down my legs to unzip my boots, allowing me to step out of them before removing my jeans. I do this for him since he gets up to take me in. I’m slightly embarrassed, though this is hardly the first time he’s seen me like this. “So beautiful. God, how are you so perfect?” Harry is now standing in front of me, peering down my body.

“I’m hardly perfect,” I whisper. The warm air from the heater leaves goosebumps scattered along my backside, where the air first hits my body.

“But you are,” Harry insists and reaches behind my back, trying to unclasp my bra. I let him do so as I’ve completely given up on trying to understand what he’s doing. He lets my bra drop to the floor and I instinctively bring my arms up to cover myself. Harry shakes his head and grabs my arms to move them to my sides. “Why do you feel like you have to cover up, love?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, I’m just embarrassed, I guess.“

Harry chuckles lightly before pressing his lips against my own, making this our first kiss of the day. It’s tender and sweet, making me want more but he pulls away. “You have no reason to be embarrassed. How many times do I have to tell you that you’re perfect. All of the flaws that you think are flaws make you who you are. You’re perfectly imperfect.” He kisses my lips again. His words make pink blossoms bloom on my cheeks and heat emerge between my legs. He grabs a paint bottle and opens it.

“Harry what are you-”

“I want you to be my canvas. You’re always asking me to paint with you but I’ve decided I want to paint on you.” Harry answers. He grabs a pallet and squeezes the white paint onto the plastic.

“You’re gonna paint on me?” I look at him with disapproving eyes, wondering where he even got this idea from.

“Mhmm.” He dips the brush in the paint. He’s slow with his actions, making me anticipate the cold liquid on my skin. He starts at my left shoulder and I nearly yelp at the cold contact. “Sorry,” he says. I nod and he drags the brush all the way down my arm and stops at my wrist. He does the same to the other side and my body gets used to the feeling. It tickles slightly but the brush he’s using is rough. He says he’s finished with the white and puts the pallet and brush down. “This could get pretty messy,” he states. “And we wouldn’t want me getting paint on my clothes,” he continues, starting to take off his hat and his tan sweater after. He leaves himself only in his white boxers, just like me, only in my dark blue lace panties. I shake my head at his cheeky behavior. “Maybe we
should let Ray know he can go back to the hotel. Wouldn’t want him waiting in the car all this time.”

All I can do is nod, completely lost in his actions. He grabs another paint bottle, the lightest blue that I own. Instead of the pallet, he squeezes it into his hand then puts his hands together, spreading the paint on the other. He looks at me adoringly with his pupils dilated and a smile creeping onto his lips. He moves behind me and nudges my arms, telling me to lift them up. I do so and when they’re up far enough, he snakes his arms underneath them and presses his hands against my breasts, leaving two blue handprints on each of them. “Harry!” I gasp.

He laughs and turns me around. “What?”

“You’re so cheeky!” I exclaim, looking down at his blue palms. “You’re too clean, too.” I add. Harry twists his face, confused by what I mean. It’s just not fair that I’m the only one who is covered in paint. I lunge toward him and press my chest on his, transferring some of the paint onto him. I wrap my arms around his neck and he gasps my name. He lifts me up in his arms and I wrap my legs around his waist. I join my lips to his and this one is much needier than the last. He bites my bottom lip before pulling away.

“Mmm, not done with you,” Harry hums. He puts me down and frowns. “You’ve messed up my artwork!”

I look down and I see that I’ve completely smudged the blue paint on my boobs and have managed to get some of it on my chest.

“This just won’t do,” he shakes his head. Harry’s long fingers wrap around the lilac paint and he smirks at me. Before I get to say anything, he squeezes the paint directly onto my chest.“My design is ruined so might as well just make a mess of you.” He shrugs.

“Only if you let me paint on you,” I compromise. I receive a small peck on my lips and he says okay. I smile, feeling giddy that I get to have some fun as well. I contemplate which color I want to start with and Harry has already decided on his next one. He’s going with a bright yellow and I pick up a darker purple than the one he put on me before. I squeeze a little on my finger and reach up to put lines under Harry’s eyes, resembling a football players game face. He laughs and says, “That’s the best you can do?”

I shake my head no. Before Harry does anything with the yellow paint he removes my underwear in the swiftest motion, I don’t even notice that they’re gone until his cold hands are placed on each of the cheeks. “Mm, just a little yellow to brighten the day,” he says. Twisting my back, I see the two yellow handprints left on my bum. It’s like he’s marking me.

“Fuck,” Harry says. “I can’t do it.”

I am staring at the ferns etched above his V line when he says this. I look up at his hungry eyes. “I just can’t do it, y/n,” he admits. “I wanted this to be fun. I just wanted to paint on you, but you’re so beautiful and I’m getting distracted.” He looks down. I look down. I hadn’t even noticed the bulge under his boxers.

“Oh, Harry,” I giggle while bringing myself closer to him. My palms meet his chest and I trace my fingertips over the birds. He hums into my ear and nibbles on the lobe. My knees feel weak but luckily Harry lifts me off of the ground and takes control. One arm is holding me up while the other is wrapped round my back and he grasps my hair in his hand. I snuggle in closer to him-if that’s even possible, and rest my forehead on his shoulder. He’s backed me up against the wall and he pulls my hair so we can be face to face. A wet kiss is left on my neck and he kisses my jawline, teasing me at the corner of my lips until finally pressing his own to mine. He parts his lips and I take this opportunity to stick my tongue in his mouth. He never lets me have this much control and I don’t think he ever will. He pushes mine away with his own, and resorts to biting my bottom lip as punishment. Our breathing is heavy and our skin is hot, thanks to the thermostat that quickly warmed the small flat.

“Y/n, baby,” Harry begs. I kiss him harder, shutting him up. However, he pulls away. “You’re so beautiful. How did I get so lucky?”

“You’re beautiful too,” I smile. He puts me down and his boxers come along with me. They stop at his thighs and I pull them down, kissing his thigh tattoo as I do so. I take him in my hand but Harry pulls me up before I get to do anything. I look at his face and he shakes his head.

“All about you, love. I want this to be all about you,” he tells me. I want to argue, but I also don’t want to do anything. “I want to taste you,” he says. I nod. I nod vigorously.

He lifts me up again and takes us over to one of my work tables and I internally grimace as my bum touches the dirty surface. Ugh, Harry why this table? He’s looking at my body with such fascination, I can’t help but watch him watch me. His right hand glides across my stomach and moves down until he reaches my thighs. I groan at his slowness. I’m so needy for him, I’m so dependent on his touch. He uses both of his hands to push my thighs apart and his elbows rest on either side of them. He kisses the inside of my thigh, trailing all the way up to my core and two unexpected fingers slip inside me. I’m suddenly finding it a lot harder to watch him, my eyes threatening to close with each pump of his fingers. Harry’s face settles in between my thighs and his tongue teases every part of me. I pray he doesn’t stop. I bite my lip in hopes of holding in a moan. He looks up at me and pulls away just enough for him to be able to speak but he fingers don’t stop. “What have I said about biting that, hmm? Moan, baby. Let the whole building know how good I make you feel.”

I do as he says and release my lip from my teeth. An immediate moan escapes my parted lips and Harry grins. He continues to pump in and out of me while his thumb remains outside, rubbing the spot above my entrance. I call his name out, begging for more. He laps his tongue around my folds and I writher under his touch. My legs begin to shake but he refuses my arrival by pulling away. “Not yet, baby.” He says, taking my leg behind the knee with his left hand. His lips meet with mine when he unexpectedly yet slowly thrusts inside of me. He lets out a low groan as he finally gets the relief he’s been needing. He quickens his pace and holds my back up with his hands, pulling our chests together. I bite into his shoulder, feeling so close to where he’s trying to get me. There isn’t any way we could possibly get closer yet Harry still manages to grip me tighter. His other hand is everywhere, as are his lips.

Y/n, fuck,” he gasps. I feel his back tense under my hands, and I claw at his skin. His thrusts are harder, needier, rougher. His thrusts become pounds which makes me scream but I don’t know if it’s out of pain or pleasure. Maybe pleasureful pain. His hand slips down in between my legs and rubs ferociously. His lips find mine in a feverish approach to pleasure me even more. He’s nearing his high and I’m nearing mine. Everything is pulsing, my heart is threatening to leave my chest. “Let it go, love. Come for me. Come on, kitten,” Harry encourages.

“Harry,” I mumble out, squeezing my eyes shut as I come. This could be the first, this could be the hundredth, but every time, Harry makes me feel like I’m flying. I’m weightless in his arms and I beg him to release. “Come, Harry. I know you’re close, God your cock feels so good. Come in me, please.”

He continues thrusting and leaves scattered kisses along my neck. “Y/n,” he breathes. His legs shake and his movements weaken. “God, y/n.” Soft lips are touching my own and he stills himself, despite the tremors quaking throughout his back and legs. He sighs into my neck and bites down softly. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he says, still tense. Still pressed inside me. His breaths are shallow and rapid. He pulls out of me and I sigh.

“Harry,” I begin, grazing my nails along his skin. He kisses my lips tenderly and presses his forehead to mine. “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much,” he replies and backs away from me, looking at my painted body. “I told you I’d make a mess of you.” Harry laughs while bending down to grab my bra for me. The paint has crusted over and I can’t wait to wash it off of me, though I have a feeling Harry will want to do that for me.


My wet hair is wrapped in a towel while Harry and I are sprawled on the couch watching reruns of friends. His wet hair has drenched my (his) t shirt since he decided to lay his head on my stomach. My palm rests on his chest, rising and falling with every breath. “Are we more like Ross and Rachel or Monica and Chandler?” he asks.

“Definitely Monica and Chandler,” I state. “Ross and Rachel were so off and on, you know? But like, Monica and Chandler were friends first, never thought they’d be together but they’re hands down the best couple.”

Harry nods in agreement. “I’m tired.”

“Hmm, you should be.” I glance at the clock. 2:34. “Go to sleep, babe.” I insist. It’s not unusual for us to fall asleep on the couch but Harry slowly gets up and looks at me with tired eyes. He grabs my hand and pulls the two of us off of the couch. I turn the tv off before he drags us to my bedroom. Immediately, he flops on the bed, not even bothering to get in. “Oh c'mon, Haz.” I nudge him. “Just a little more energy to get you into bed.”

“No,” Harry resists, snuggling his head deeper into the pillow.

I attempt to pull the sheets out from under him. Successfully doing so, I try lifting up his heavy legs to push them under the comforter. He mumbles something I can’t decipher. Though it’s probably just a complaint about me trying to get him into bed. God, it’s like taking care of a child. “Okay, baby,” I say, pull the sheet up to his shoulders and I crawl in on my side. I’m not even in bed when Harry’s arm reaches for any part of me pull me close to him. He manages to grab my torso, completely letting me mold into his position.

We both fall asleep rather quickly, but his hushed snores arrive before mine, though I’m positive I don’t snore. Harry says otherwise. Even though I think he’s lying he says it doesn’t matter if I actually snore or not because he says I’m perfect either way. Perfect, perfect, perfect. He’s always telling me how perfect I am and every day I look at him and wonder how I could’ve been so damn lucky to have this man in my life.

He says I’m the best artist that ever was, but a painter will get nowhere without their inspiration.

fin.

[authors note • pretty please send requests/ prompts :) thank you for reading!!]