ticking fabric

Restless

A/N: Decided to do a random idea that came to mind. I imagine InuYasha would suffer a lot from nightmares and anxiety and loath the idea of keeping Kagome up as he tries to handle them on his own and Kagome would have tried to avoid exacerbating things for him knowing her past efforts to soothe him were in vain. Perhaps they may have finally found a method to resolve the issue that had been plaguing them for the better part of a year now. I normally don’t write random little stories like this and there’s no editing so.. yeah. Hope y’all like it. 


Her husband was one of two things in the late hours of the night. The majority of time he was still and quiet, laying curled up with his back toward her and his arms crossed close to his chest while the lazy ears remained forward. Occasionally they would turn as he would threaten to lift from the depths of sleep to the sound of a cricket outside of the doorway, or her rolling onto her side, but otherwise there was little to no movement. She enjoyed these evenings, despite enjoying them more when he would open up and hold her close like he used to when she had first returned through the well or after they’ve made love but it couldn’t be helped. Her hanyou was her hanyou and she’d long learned if it wasn’t harming either of them she wouldn’t question it.

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harrystylescouk  asked:

#34 with Y/N and Harry Jesus H Christ that sounds fantastic

Literally I was hoping someone was gonna ask me for this number and if not I was just gonna fucking do it anyway thank you omfg.

#34- “If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed…”

You hadn’t meant for it to be like this.  Truth be told, you weren’t feeling horny in any way, shape, or form at all today.  You knew you had to be on your best behavior because Harry was attending a magazine release party later that evening and had so graciously invited you to be his date.

  But when you saw him come down the stairs of your shared apartment in that suit, hair perfectly poofy and dramatically overswept to the side, and that smirk… oh that goddamned smirk… 

Needless to say, it did something to you.

And Harry was not oblivious to it either.  He saw the way you stared.  The whole limo ride there, you played with his fingers absentmindedly while he talked nonchalantly with the driver.  And every so often, he’d lightly kiss the palm of your hand, or place a finger in his mouth and suck lightly.  You couldn’t help but bite at your lip every time his own fingers stroked lightly at his chin or his lips.  It didn’t help that the damn boy was so fucking hyper-aware of his lips at all times.

The whole time you sat at the table, talking to various important people (who, truth be told, must’ve not been that important because you didn’t know any of their names), you keep your hand resting on his thigh, fingers ticking impatiently at the fabric of his pants.  Slowly, you move your hands higher and higher… and higher… trying to get the hint across to him in some way that you’re ready to go home.

He subtly reaches under the table, taking your fingers in his own and squeezing.  He glances at you and mumbles a “behave” which only makes you want to misbehave even more.

When you two stand up to mingle, it gets even worse.  You want him so fucking bad you can’t even stand it.  The way he’s so personable with every single person here… he’s so goddamned charming.  And the champagne making your thoughts just a bit more fuzzy certainly doesn’t help either.

That’s when he pulls you into a dark, secluded corner.  You blink up at him with innocent, wide eyes but he’s not falling for it.  A dark look has come over him, and fuck, it turns you on.  “If you keep looking at me like that,” he says quietly,  “we won’t make it to a bed.”

You shrug innocently, reaching up to stroke his face.  “Then we’d better get home right now.”

And when you do finally arrive home, you don’t make it to a bed at all.  You’re fully undressed by the time you get to the top of the stairs, and have had your first orgasm of the night on the carpet outside of the bedroom.

And that’s only the beginning…

Send me a prompt (part one)
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