*deep sigh* she has returned. drama club AU is back with PART FOUR!! honestly im in love with these two loser nerds and i hope you love them (and this) too :’) part onepart twopart three and awaaaaaay we go!! (feel free to yell in my inbox after this)
JAKE’S HOUSE, 1624 HOURS, GETTING THROWN UNDER A BURNING BUS BY HIS OWN MOTHER
“What? Mom, I didn’t ask Amy out!”
Karen appears to understand, nodding conspiratorially. “Ahh, you’re doing the playing hard to get thing, I see.”
She winks, something which Jake does not appreciate, and his entire face burns as he takes a deep, deep sigh.
“That’s not what’s going on at all. Amy’s my enemy,” he considers spelling it out, but he thinks that would be pushing it. “She’s supposed to be the worst!”
“You kiss your enemy with that mouth?” Karen teases, and it’s very obvious where Jake gets his playful nature from.
Jake covers his forehead with his palm, turning around only when he hears Amy snickering to herself.
Really? He mouths, and she shrugs in response. At least someone is enjoying this painfully awkward situation.
“What do you mean she’s your enemy?” Karen continues, genuinely confused, as though she has no idea about Jake and Amy’s decade-long rivalry. “You talk about her all the time.”
Jake stiffens, refusing to turn around because Amy must look incredibly smug right now.
“Yeah, but only to complain.”
“Wasn’t your last ‘complaint’ about how annoying her pretty face is?”
“NO IT WASN’T MOM! I’VE NEVER THOUGHT AMY WAS PRETTY IN MY LIFE!”
If Amy could see Jake’s face now, she would know that his cheeks blush a bright crimson. Yes, that’s right. Crimson.
“Now Jake, that’s a very mean thing to say about your girlfriend,” Karen chides, disappointed in her useless lying son. “Our guest Amy must be so upset-” she turns around, and realizes she’s wrong, “oh wait- she’s smiling, never mind.”
“That’s because she’s not my girlfriend! She’s my enemy and you’re giving her way too much ammo!”
It’s not that you and Minseok have bad sex, it’s just that the same thing every time gets a bit boring. So on one of his off days, you’d flopped next to him on the sofa and shoved an article about roleplay in one of your magazines at him. “This is what you want?” he’d asked, turning to look at you after reading the insert. You gave him a nod and pointed to a picture of a school uniform, which made him smirk. “You wish is my command.”
Here you were, the traditional school girl skirt sat on your hips, barely covering your white panties. Here you were sat at the kitchen table, the traditional school girl skirt sat on your hips, barely covering your white panties and the flow cut button up shirt. Your boyfriend was dressed in a black suit, with glasses, and his hair styled to the side. His visuals alone were causing a warmth between your thighs, and you could see he was just as aroused by the whole scenario just as much as you were. The black dress pants did nothing to hide his every growing bulge.
“Miss Y/L/N,” he slapped his hand against the table to break you out of the trance you’d slipped into. Your snapped your eyes up to meet his and gave a small smile. “Care to explain why you’ve stopped paying attention?”
You let out a quiet giggle, eyes flicking back to his groin before you leaned back in your seat. “I don’t think this is a time to be laughing, Miss Y/L/N,” he shook his head as his eyes trailed over you, stopping to take in your over exposed chest. “Pay attention, or you’ll be punished,” he warned, standing up straight so he could continue his lecture.
You tried to pay attention, but your mind wandered back to it’s little trance of how sexy he looked in his role and how the black pants fitted to his rear perfectly. “So, Miss Y/L/N, can you tel-” he folded his arms over his chest when he once again caught you day dreaming. “Miss Y/L/N, stand up,”
“What?” you blinked, before biting your lip and looking at him. “I said stand up!” his tone was harsh, and it caused a jolt to run through your body. “Alright,” you mumbled, pushing yourself up, hands coming to rest at your side. “Alright?” he brow rose as he approached you. “Are you sure you don’t want to re-phrase that?” “Yes Sir,” you spoke slowly with a smirk as you folded your arms over your chest to match him. “Your attitude is poor, Miss Y/L/N,” he tutted, a hand moving to tap against the table. “You don’t pay attention, you show no respect, and to be honest, you’re a nuisance. maybe a long hard punishment will teach you how to be a good girl,” the words caused you to adjust your position so you could rub your thighs together.
“Bend over the table. You’re going to be sorry you’ve ever behaved like this,” you followed his demand, lowering yourself so you were leaning against the table, your white panties now on full display as the skirt moved. There was a painful silence for a minute, but then you felt his warm hand rub a circle on your left cheek. “Now do as you’re told for once and count,” he muttered before bringing a hand down against the clothed flesh.
“One,” you hissed through gritted teeth as the sting of his hand raced throughout your body. “Two,” another hit. “Three,” you whined, squeezing your eyes closed. “What’s up? Can’t take it?” you heard him say before a final slap to your rear was given. “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before being a brat.” He brought his hand to your hair, gripping at it to pull you up to his chest.
His breath fanned over your ear, causing you to shiver. “Now are you going to be a good girl for me?” His question was answered by your hips pushing back against him, rubbing yourself over his erection. “So it’s going to be like that?” he asked, hands moving to grip your hips and stop the motion. “It’s going to be like that,” you confirmed, a hand sneaking behind you to press against him.
“Get on your knees,” He growled, pulling away from you. You obeyed, kneeling infront of him, eyes looking up to meet his. “Let’s put you to good use, shall we?” you watched as his fingers unbuckled the belt and undid the zip of the trousers. “Open your mouth. Stick your tongue out.” Another growling command, another shock to your core.
He pulled his reddened cock free from the cloth prison to rub over your tongue. “Good girl,” he breathed as some of his own throbbing was relieved. “Perhaps I should be in charge of your mouth from now on,” he pushed into you, hands resting in your hair once more to keep you in place. Your own hands came to rest on his legs, trying to calm yourself from the slight panic that came with the new feeling of him in your throat.
After a few moments he pulled back, pulling your head back to inspect your panting state. “You can’t be bratty with a cock in your mouth,” he emitted a low laugh before tugging your head back onto him, his own head leaning back in pleasure. “Your mouth makes Sir feel so good.” Your eyes screwed closed as your breathing came into a rhythm. “Stay there.” He pushed you away from him once more and sat down on the chair you once occupied.
“Crawl to me and sit on my cock,” he removed the black trousers completely, discarding them to the side of the kitchen. You made your way as slowly and as sexily as you could over to him, hands trailing over his newly exposed thighs. “Don’t waste my time!” he exclaimed, pulling you up and guiding your hips onto him. “I’m a busy man, you little brat,” he ripped open the skimpy white shirt and let his hands squeeze your breasts, causing you to moan. “You like that?” a cup of your bra was moved, and his fingers pinched your bud. “You like being groped? I’m not surprised,” he mirrored the action on the other breast.
Your head lolled forward as the combination of his cock and assault on your nipples were dulling the tingling. “I don’t want to hear you. I’ve heard enough of you for one day.” He undid his tie from his neck and tied it around your mouth as a make shift gag. “You’re going to stay silent while I fuck you into obedience, understood?”
A whine escaped your lips while your hips moved slowly, though it didn’t last long, as he stilled you once more. “I’m in charge here,” he hissed. You didn’t think he’d take so well to the roll, but here he was, driving you mad, no, driving you to the brink of imploding. You waited in painful anticipation for him next move. You’d be grateful for anything he gave to you. “What’s that face for?” he scoffed at your screwed up face. “Don’t like wanting something and not getting it? Welcome to my world.”
His hips suddenly snapped into yours, causing your to jolt forward. “I try explaining to you,” another snap of his hips. “And you just do what you want,” he brought you slamming onto his length this time, forcing your hips to circle on him. “Ignoring me when I tell you to pay attention.” he shook his head, eyes not leaving your face as it twisted and contorted. “And now I can give you the one thing you want.”
He created a brutal rhythm with his hips, each thrust pushing your closer to your much needed high. This was amazing. He was amazing. You loved this man so mu-
At the feeling of you tightening around him, he stilled. “You think I’m going to let you cum?” he raised a brow, a hand slapping your rear. “You hold that in until I decide you can.” he hissed, gripping the flesh of your behind. “Fuck yourself down onto me.”
You bounced down onto him, desperate to get back to that cliff edge. You needed to run over the edge and dive into a blissful orgasm that would roll over you and sweep you away. The sight of you fucking yourself against him almost drove him over the edge. How could it not. His beautiful girlfriend in the (ruined) school uniform, with messy hair, red cheek and a gag in her mouth. He’d never imagine you like this. Thank god you read those magazines he always nagged at you for wasting your time on. Whatever you would suggest next, he would be up for.
A low moan left his lips as he came, his warm seed painting your walls. The grip on your hips tightened as he held you down against him. He thrust a few times up into you as he floated back down. When his eyes opened, he was greeted by a whine from you. Another orgasm lost.
“Aww, I’m sorry,” he doted, pushing you up and returning you to bed over the table. “Don’t worry, brat.” His fingers ran over your folds, coating his fingers with his cum. You tensed up when two of his digits entered you and began the assault on your core. The impossibly quick pace revived the dying orgasm.
“Cum.” He demanded, bringing his hand onto your left cheek. Your body arched the best it could as you were finally rewarded with what you needed. His pace gradually slowed as you relished in the glorious climax, your body every so gently twitching.
You felt the tie be removed from your mouth, happy you could finally talk, but the material was quickly replaced with his cum coated fingers. “Clean them, and then get out.” Thank god for those magazines you waste your time on.
And I Forgot To Tell You I Love You (Harry One Shot) *Request
A/N: Here I am being a broken record again; I’m so sorry this took forever and a day to finish. It’s so very sad, it was difficult to dive into it like I wanted to.
This is technically a request, one that got wildly out of hand, for an angsty blurb about being married to Harry and finding yourself at odds with each other. So, my dear anon who requested that, please consider this your blurb!
I should say that this one shot surely wouldn’t have been finished without the help of two wonderful people, Carly (smut-reading-mum) and Vanessa (vanessavanessafoundaboy), both of whom listened and offered advice and guidance when I repeatedly went crying to them for help with this. I don’t think I’d be posting this without them, so thank you!
And of course thank you to all of you who waited patiently for this! I hope you like it xx
((oh and btw, from here on out italics will indicate a flashback))
Mornings with Harry used to be your favorite. Every single one was a gift; the hotel mornings where he ordered breakfast and smiled softly at you when you thanked him, the early mornings, yawning every thirty seconds and blinking sleepily at Harry as he readied himself for some pre dawn obligation. The mornings far far apart, when he was in a distant time zone and managed to squeeze a Skype session in to share coffee over. The mornings where you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. The hangover mornings after a long drunken night, the sad mornings where you only held each other, the crazy mornings with hardly a moment to spare to sneak in a kiss. The happy birthday mornings, the lazy mornings, the rainy mornings, the lie in mornings. Every one was unique and every one was perfect because you got to spend it with him.
You exchanged vows, and the mornings were even better, waking up with his ring on your finger and hearing him call you “Mrs. Styles”. You got pregnant with your first child, and you got used to feeding schedules and wandering down the hall to find Harry asleep, long legs dangling off your child’s bed, with the young one dozing on his chest.
You don’t know when that ended, when the mornings lost their brilliance, with the hours in between quickly following suit. You don’t remember when the thought of waking up next to Harry didn’t fill you with warmth from head to toe.
Somehow you let it slip through your fingers, and every breath you take feels like one less in the way of a catastrophe.