How About When They First Noticed Ezra Was A Nervous And Anxious Baby ?

my baby i love him sm

magnetism

harry never loved halloween night like he did this one. he just wished it could last forever

part one (gravity)

previous part (momentum)

—————

"Is that making any more sense or do y'want to go over it again?"

(Y/N) was trying her hand at transcribing her notes in Harry's fashion, finally using the plain green notebook she'd been carrying around for the last month. She planned on typing them up on her laptop later still, but Harry had said something about handwritten notes retaining better in the mind since it was connected to a muscle memory, or something like that. She was willing to try anything at this point; another failure wasn't much of an option if she planned on passing this course.

"A little," she drawled, gaze pinned on the list of bullet points lining the margin of her notebook, "But, can you go over that formula again—the cen-centri-pedal—I don't know how to say it, but that formula."

An airy laugh was exhaled through Harry's smiling lips before he nodded his head. He started on his second round of explanation, voice soft in their quiet corner of the library. Her eyes pulled from the page in front of her to watch Harry gesticulating beside her. A pale pink blush coated his cheeks as he caught sight of her attentive gaze, forcing (Y/N) to bite back a smile.

She thought it was sweet that he was still so shy around her despite how often they'd been around each other in the last month. The last time they had met up in the back of the library had broken down a layer of the walls separating them, but he still managed to become bashful under her attention. When she'd accidentally brush the back of his hand with her fingertips or bump her shoulder into his while scooting closer to read over the same textbook, he'd stumble over his words or get a stutter caught on his tongue. But, (Y/N) thought the cutest bit was when, for whatever reason be it correcting her notes or showing her a specific passage in the textbook, he needed to get close to her or touch her, he would ask for permission with unwavering eye contact no matter how pink his cheeks blushed. Even when she granted him that clearance, he was shaky and unsure, waiting for her first sign of rejection or shrugging him off. He was very gentle and kind with her, and obviously smart, but he still managed to be unbelievably shy despite it all.

And, (Y/N) was pretty sure she definitely had a crush on him. Talking to Ny about it all—hearing all of those little things about him she adored and the fact that he had dropped everything to be with her—then seeing him, made it all official.

"Did that clear anything up, (Y/N)?"

The sound of his honeyed voice wrapping around her name pulled her from her thoughts, a tint of guilt following after. She hadn't been listening to a single thing he was saying, too wrapped up in watching him rather than paying his words any attention. Besides, it had been a long session today; they'd met up after their last classes at two and the time was just nearing eight at night. How was she supposed to focus on physics when her brain was fried and there were much more pleasant things to pin her thoughts to?

She figured she had gone quiet for too long when Harry let out a short sigh before rubbing at his eyes from under his glasses.

"Okay," he nodded his head, eyes fixed on the textbook in front of him, "That's okay, we'll figure it out. Was there something in specific that was tripping y'up?" He looked just as stressed as she had been only a few days prior; now she knew why he had wanted to comfort her. If she had looked anything like him, she understood his urge to wrap her up and console her.

"Harry, we can stop for the night, you know," she started, taking on a soothing tone that complimented the warmth of the worn books around them, "We've been doing this for almost six hours, and neither of us have had dinner. I don't think it would be a bad idea if we gave it a rest for now."

He peeked at her over the frame of his glasses and the fan of his lashes, swirls of curls flopping over his forehead. "I jus'..." he sighed before trailing off, reclining back in his seat with his hands falling limp in his lap, "I don't want to let y'down again. We only have a few more weeks until your retake and I want y'to feel as prepared as possible."

(Y/N) felt her eyes round out as she listened to him, tilting her head as she traced over his form. A thick black jumper covered his torso, with tan fitted trousers tailored to his hips. The blue paint on his nails was chipped as he plucked at his sweater, finding a loose thread she didn't think had been there before he started toying with the knit.

"You're not going to let me down again, because you haven't even let me down a first time," she countered, "Don't worry about any of that, okay? I failed that exam because of me, not you. You're working yourself harder than I am, and I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be the other way around." She released a breathy laugh, hoping the light-hearted note she ended on would draw the same from him.

"Yeah..." he sighed, mimicking her with a small laugh of his own though his smile was tight. His eyes were pinned on his plucking fingers, unmoving from their position though she was sure he felt her eyes on him. The toes of his Vans kicked at the floor as a beat passed, Harry was clearly still unsure about quitting while he felt like there was so much work to be done.

"Let's just stop for the night, it's okay," she repeated, "We'll come back to this next time, and it'll probably be easier then anyway. We won't be working on two fried brain cells."

Harry sucked in a deep breath, shoulders broadening and chest puffing before he met her eyes. He nodded his head, "Yeah, okay. But only if you're okay with it; I don't want to abandon you."

"Of course, I'm okay with it. It's my idea," she smiled, already shifting in her seat to start packing up.

Following after her, Harry's stress deflated from his shoulders. (Y/N) had her own things tucked away with her bag slung over her shoulder, waiting on him. She knew when he had all of his notes and utensils neatly packed away, he would continue on his routine of asking if he could walk her to her car where he would wait for her to drive away before he would let himself go home. Tonight, she didn't want to leave alone while he went in the opposite direction.

She didn't want their night to be confined to physics talk like it had been every other time they'd seen each other. She figured since it was dinner time already, she hoped to convince him to come along with her for an extra few hours.

"I'll—uh...I'll walk you to your car, if that's okay," Harry recited as they edged out of the library, taking the now familiar route to the first floor.

Sucking in a deep breath, she hoped she wasn't running too far with Ny's small encouragement. "I was actually thinking about getting something to eat before I went home. Would you want to come with me, maybe?" Trying her best to stay casual, (Y/N) feigned nonchalance; she hoped he would accept on the grounds of the impromptu date she was suggesting, but if he took this as a pair of friends getting food before the night ended, she would be able to play along.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, (Y/N) mimicking his actions when she noticed his lag. She turned on her heel to where he stood with bright red cheeks and raised brows. "Really?" he breathed, green eyes pinned to her face.

"Yeah," she affirmed, nodding her head though she didn't feel very confident anymore, "I was kind of in the mood for pizza, so I was thinking about going to Wanda's."

"And you want me to go with you?"

(Y/N) tried not to feel hurt at the blunt execution of his line of question. If he didn't want to go with her, all he had to do was say so.

"I mean, yeah," she answered, worrying the strap of her bag in her fist, "But if you don't want to, it's totally okay. I understand if you just want to go home, instead."

He reanimated at the sound of her words, practically jumping as he stuttered closer to her in a half step, "No—I mean, yes! Yes, I do want to go with you, I mean." His flustered acceptance drew a laugh from her though Harry's face only flushed a deeper red. Taking a deep breath, Harry centered himself though he kept his eyes closed to keep his head straight. "If you're still offering, I would love to go with you, (Y/N)."

Yeah. She definitely had a crush on him.

"C'mon then," she beckoned, wrapping her fingers around his wrist. He stiffened under her hold for half a second before he happily followed after her, tripping over himself to keep up.

By the time they made it to her car (she had agreed to drive since it was her idea to go out in the first place), Harry was nothing but full smiles, flushed cheeks, and glittery eyes. Her car felt smaller with the two of them inside. The broad of his shoulders took up the full of the passenger seat, legs spread to accommodate his book bag at his feet. Restless fingers scratched at the denim on his thighs, his pink lips rolled between his teeth.

"I need to text my roommate, but you can connect and play some music if you want," (Y/N) said after tossing her bag in the backseat, reaching for her phone she had dropped in the empty cup holder.

Harry's cheeks flushed a brighter red as he nodded his head, grabbing at his own phone. (Y/N) turned her attention to her own illuminated screen, pulling up Naomi's thread.

i'll be home soon im just now leaving the library but im getting dinner first !

Before (Y/N) could check her other neglected notifications, a round of texts came through from her roommate.

Ny🪴

Wait are you still with Harry ?

Omg are you going with him

Is this a date are you going on a date w him omg ??????

(Y/N) typed back her response, leaving her message vague with a simple Yes, im with harry as his music started filtering through the speakers. The beginning beats of a Mac Miller song played out.

"I love this album! I didn't know you listened to this," she smiled, pressing send on her text before leaving Ny to decipher her own details.

"Yeah," he answered with a toothy grin, "'S one of m'favorites." He seemed to relax into his seat then, fingers still fumbling over invisible threads on his clothes though he never lost his smile.

The drive was short, Harry kept conversation light despite his stuttered words that he spoke through his beaming smile. (Y/N) found it hard to keep her eyes on the road when she wanted to see the dimples dented into his cheeks. She let out a breath as the neon sign hung above the student staffed pizza parlor came into view; now she could put all of her attention on him without the distraction of driving or confusion of physics in the way.

"You've been to Wanda's before, right?" (Y/N) asked as she parked, Harry's attention flicking to her in an instant.

Under the limited light of the neon tubes and the sliver of moonlight above them, Harry was bathed in a pearlescent glow. The rose of his cheeks was highlighted with the help of the pink neon above his head, with the knitted pattern of his jumper becoming prominent with the trick of the light. "Yeah," he nodded his head, waiting for her as she rounded the front of her car to meet him on the sidewalk, "I actually used to work here m'first year."

"Oh!" she gasped, stopping before they reached the graffitied window that marked Wanda's parlor, "We don't have to go then if you don't want to. We can go somewhere else." She knew all too well what it was like to go back to the scene of an old job; at the best of times, the person who'd taken the open position was told about her with all of the good bits and stupid incidents, or she could barely make it to the front doors before turning around and instead placing an online order to avoid any interactions.

"No, 's alright," Harry shrugged her off, the curls of his hair waving with the shake of his head, "I still like it here, jus' didn't really feel like delivering pizzas to frat parties at one a.m. for no tip after a year."

"No way, you were the night delivery guy?" (Y/N) made a face at the new information, already feeling pity over the idea of him being the poor freshman that always drew the short straw and had to deliver to hungry and drunken party goers in a college town. Only for it to be made even worse with the lack of tip.

"Mhm. 'S as awful as it sounds."

An airy laugh breached his lips as Harry reached the door before her, grabbing for the sticker covered handle to let her in first. The familiar sound of Wanda's invited her in. Loud music that probably shouldn't have been playing during business hours filtered through the speakers with the attendants in the open kitchen shouting over the tune. Kids she recognized from some of her classes were seated at tables with worn decals laminated over the top.

"Welcome to Wanda's, how can I help you?" One of the cooks in the kitchen ran out to the front, shouting as he went. His long hair was tied into a bun at the nape of his neck with flour dusting the pieces that acted like fringe around his face.

Harry looked at her with raised brows, a question of if (Y/N) was ready to order. She gave a slight nod, stepping up beside him with a bright smile on her face.

Though this wasn't exactly a proper date, the romanticized idea she'd had when she asked him out with her fleshed itself out. It wasn't what they were doing so much as how (Y/N) wasn't able to shake the jitters bouncing through her veins. She peeked at him from the corner of her eye as he rattled off his practiced order. She had become so used to seeing him in an academic setting, sitting beside her in physics or huddled between bookshelves at the library, to see him in a relaxed environment made it that much easier to confirm her desire to know him. It may not be a first date, but (Y/N) would remember it like it was.

After she recited off her own order, (Y/N) stepped forward as she plucked out her card. Harry gently grabbed for her wrist, a quiet protest ready to fall from his lips.

"(Y/N), let m—"

"I invited you out, let me get this one," she cut him off, thankful for the lagging computer system behind the counter, "And I want to say thank you for helping me again."

The lilypad of his iris wandered over her face, rolling his lips between his teeth as he finally met her eyes. His grasp on her arm loosened until it dropped with a lingering brush of his fingers over the back of her hand. "Thank you," he whispered, the gratitude quiet just for her to hear, "'M going to save us a table then."

After (Y/N) nodded, Harry walked off with a small smile hooking his lips with his signature blushing cheeks. The ding of the computer system finally catching up stole her attention, drawing her eye away from Harry. After running her card and grabbing their collapsing paper plates with the signature massive Wanda's slices, she followed after Harry to the quiet table in the back he had chosen, farthest from the blaring speakers.

When he saw her approaching with her hands full, Harry stumbled over himself to pull her chair out and take the overflowing plates out of her hands. She let out an airy laugh as he settled shakily in his seat, their respective meals placed on the decal covered table.

"Y'really didn't have to do this, (Y/N), but thank you."

"Harry," she started, playful rolling her eyes as she picked up her slice, "You've been helping me a lot with all this physics stuff—for the second time now, and all for free. This is the least I can do, especially since you bought coffee the other day, too. So, thank you."

Truthfully, she didn't want Harry to think she expected any of his help. She had gathered that he was rather sensitive and from the way he'd thank her for agreeing to her own plans, she knew that if she allowed him, he'd take it upon himself to do anything that he thought would make her happy.

Now with food in front of them, (Y/N) realized just how hungry she was. A lull fell between them as they finally ate for the first time in almost eight hours. It wasn't until she had made it halfway through her slice when she figured she should actually take this opportunity to get to know Harry like she had wanted instead of stuffing her face like she could do with Ny for free at home.

"So," she started after swallowing a bite of cheese and pepperoni, "What do you want to do after school? Something with physics or...?"

Harry wiped at his mouth with the paper napkin printed with the parlor's logo, shrugging a shoulder before he managed to swallow. "Probably. I jus' don't know where to go with it sometimes; the field is so tight and competitive. If I want something really worth it, 's going to take some time to get there from where 'm starting. It can be a little overwhelming to think about."

"That makes sense," (Y/N) nodded, sipping from the water she'd grabbed up front, "You're doing social media stuff right now, though, right? That could count for something; if you phrase it right on a resumé, you basically filled a position with computer science skills and required programming qualifications."

A cinch appeared in his brow from across the table, his eyes searching as if he didn't know what she was talking about. After a split second, he straightened up, seemingly remembering his own occupation. "Right, yeah," he nodded with a tight smile, eyes averting to the plain cheese slice in front of him, "But, what about you? I know y'said your roommate kind of dragged you into taking that class, so I doubt 's anything like what 'm looking at."

"Oh, definitely not," she laughed around a bite of pizza, the crust becoming the majority of what she had left, "I honestly want to travel after this, I think. I know it's not the best option to be putting off a job when swimming in student loans, but I think I jumped into school because I thought I had done everything I wanted, but I want more now. I want to see everything we're taught about."

Harry's smile bloomed over his features as he listened to her, the crust of his pizza reduced to a toy being prattled between his fingers. "I know what y'mean. I've been saving up as much money as I can to do the same," he rested his elbow on the table with his chin resting in his palm, "I would love to go to Japan someday. A couple of m'friends have gone, and they've said its the most fast-paced but peaceful place they've ever been. I want to see how that works."

(Y/N) couldn't help the curl that spread over her own lips. In the time that she'd gotten a chance to really talk to Harry, he'd never revealed anything this personal. He was kept tightly under wraps, his shy defenses made it easy for him to keep those secrets and traits all to himself. A bubbling warmth formed in her chest as she finally got a look at what was going on in his head; he wasn't just made up of formulas and quantum theories. Since he seemed much more interested in learning about her than sharing about himself, she was going to hang onto this moment (and probably tell Ny how much it had made her tummy simmer with butterflies when she got home).

Despite the fact both of their dinners were inching towards bare bones with half finished waters, (Y/N) was determined to learn as much as she could about him. She liked him beyond the color-coded notes and the stacks of physics textbooks he could recite from memory, now all she wanted to know was where the rest of him started.

—————

Ny🪴

do you want to go shopping for halloween costumes when you get home???

(Y/N) perked up as she read the text, messaging back a quick yes with excessive exclamation marks. She hadn't given much thought to her costume for the year though the annual Sigma Pi sorority Halloween party was a little less than two weeks away. She hadn't thought of the party itself much either, too preoccupied with the guy she could see from the corner of her eye beside her.

While she was tapping at her phone, Harry was busy fussing with his usual setup. His previous notebook was now full of annotations and outlines, prompting him to start a new one just a few months into the course. As she glanced at him, (Y/N) wasn't able to shake the butterflies that fluttered through her tummy, the same kaleidoscope that had been cocooned in her abdomen since the night at Wanda's. That night, she had planned on getting home by nine-thirty at the latest, but she ended up staying past ten p.m. talking to Harry over dented bottles of water and pizza crust that was picked apart by nervous fingers. While she had the privilege of learning bits and pieces of the man that made up her physics hero, he still managed to worm around her questions and turn them on her. But, the vision of him happily listening to each of her mundane stories and simple anecdotes like they were fairy tales that made up the facets of her, made it all worth it.

She felt supremely more comfortable with him, but (Y/N) still wanted more. She wanted to see more of him, learn more, and figure out if she could even be more to him. All she needed was more time with him first. Sure, they were still set with study sessions, but she wanted more of the man that sat across from her at Wanda's.

Now with the thought of the Halloween party floating around, (Y/N) figured she might have the right venue to see him. Though she'd never seen him at any parties on Greek Row (it was really only a couple of back-to-back blocks made up of all the sororities and fraternities, but it was just easier to call it one row), she urged to see how he would behave in that kind of environment. She could invite him, and if he said no, at least she tried (she really hoped he wouldn't, though. She wanted to know what he would dress up as). Even if the butterflies in her tummy made her fingers jittery and perked up the nerves in her body at thought of posing the question.

Normally, she would be dying during the sluggish pace that Stanfill taught the class. But, today, the slow ticks of the clock gave her time to work up the courage to ask Harry to the party. More often than not, she felt her gaze instinctually travel to glance at him from the corner of her eye. Like always, she found him scratching out his notes with diligence, the most important bits of information closely followed by a highlighter. She swore (or more likely, hoped) that Harry returned her gaze when she wasn't looking, peeking at her from under the fan of his lashes with a soft smile following on the curve of his lips.

By the time Professor Stanfill officially dismissed class, (Y/N) found herself taking her time to pack up her materials. She remembered the days when she would bolt out of the room with her laptop packed away a full five minutes before the end time just so she could avoid spending a minute passed her required time in the lecture hall. Now, she lingered at the end of the row with her bag hung over her shoulder and her eyes on Harry as she waited. She looked forward to the routine they now had; it almost made coming to this class worth it.

Once they started on the trek to her car, (Y/N) falling into step beside Harry as best she could though his strides were much larger than her own, she sucked in a deep breath and worried the knit of her cardigan between her nails.

"That Halloween party at Sigma Pi is in a couple of weeks, are you and your friends planning on going?" she posed, hiding the cringe of her nerves with a shaky smile. She hoped she didn't sound weird, asking her study buddy about his Halloween plans so stiffly.

"Probably not," he shrugged, directing his gaze towards his feet with rose dusted cheeks, "I don't think 'm really invited, anyway."

"It's a party, everyone's invited! My roommate and I are going," she bubbled, her goal being to wipe the dejected look off his face.

Harry looked up from the path of his feet with his lips rolled between his teeth. "Are you... You're going to dress up?"

"Mhm, Naomi and I are going costume shopping as soon as I get home," she explained, glancing at him over the line of her shoulder to find Harry looking straight ahead with his hand wrapped tightly around the strap of his bag, "But, I'm not sure what I'm going to be yet."

A beat of silence passed as the parking lot drew closer. Harry's gaze was stuck straight ahead while (Y/N) awaited some kind of response. Now that there was a plausible chance he might decline her invitation, she realized just how badly she wanted him to go.

Plucking up her courage, fingers wrapped tightly in the fabric of her cardigan, (Y/N) tried again. "I would really like it if you came, Harry. You don't have to dress up if you don't want to, but I was really hoping we could hang out a little more."

Though the hesitancy wasn't cleared from his tone, Harry finally answered her. "I—uh—I might have to work that weekend, but I'll think about it."

A short smile spread over (Y/N)'s features. At least it wasn't a complete no.

"Of course," she nodded, "And if you can't make it, or don't feel up to it, it's more than okay. I know parties aren't for everyone, I just wanted you to know you're welcome to come—to any of these parties, actually. I want you to be there, at least."

A toothy grin made its way over Harry's features, his face flaming an abundant shade of red. With the dimples denting his cheeks, he chanced a look in her direction with his eyes flitting over her features, "Thank you, (Y/N). That really does mean a lot."

She was starting to curse herself for her impeccable parking jobs, her close spots making their journeys a little too short to her liking (she was still crooked and riding the white lines, so her proximity to the main building was the only impeccable part).

A bright smile covered her features as she turned on her heel to face him. "Well, I'll see you later, right? Wednesday for more tutoring?"

"Yeah," he smiled, voice soft as his gaze matched her's, "I'll see you. Goodnight, (Y/N)."

"Goodnight, Harry."

(Y/N) edged towards her car, chancing a glance at him over her shoulder. Looking at him now, she really hoped he would be able to make it.

—————

Looking in the mirror, Harry found Mitch eyeing him with a raised brow and an incredulous look. He tried his best to school his features into neutrality, but he knew the nerves singing in his veins were clear on his face. Fussing with his last minute Halloween costume, he debated if it really was a good idea for him to go out on Halloween night.

Truth be told, he was planning on staying in tonight and putting on a festive theme for the cam-site in honor of the holiday. But, since (Y/N) had invited him to this party over a week ago, he hadn't been able to shake her words from his head. She wanted to spend time with him, she said; she wanted him there. How was he supposed to pass that up in favor of making a few hundred dollars from strangers?

"H, c'mon, your hair looks fine, stop messing with it. You're just stalling so you don't have to leave yet," Mitch griped from where he was stood lent up against the doorframe of Harry's bedroom. Harry's eyes stayed stuck on his reflection in the floor length mirror pinned on his wall (would he look stupid going to this party dressed up? He really hoped (Y/N) would stick to her promise of coming in costume). Mitch sighed, bringing his attention back to the reflection behind him, "You know, if you want to pregame a little to get rid of some nerves, I can just drive you over and pick you up later."

"No, no, it's okay," Harry declined as used his shaky hands to adjust the bowtie around his neck, "I jus'... You know I've never done this before. I'm-I'm nervous."

Crossing his arms, Mitch raised his brows again, "But your girl will be there, right? So, at least you'll have one person to talk to. Besides, if things aren't going well, you can always just leave."

The blush that rose to Harry's cheeks was involuntary and unstoppable at the sound of Mitch calling (Y/N) his girl. "She's not my girl," he mumbled through a smile, "But, yeah, I guess so."

"It's going to be fine, Harry. You're going to have fun, you're just scaring yourself at this point."

Harry wanted to believe Mitch's words—logically, he knew they were true. He was definitely the type to get into his head and let his uncertainty squander his fun before he'd even had any. But, letting that go was something that was much easier said than done.

Turning away from the mirror with his mock lab coat brushing his shins, Harry faced Mitch with a heavy hand running through his hair, "Do y'think I look alright?"

Mitch rolled his eyes, stepping away from the doorframe to wander back to the main living area. "You know," he called, Harry's jittery form following after him, "If you ask me that one more time, I'm going to tell Pauli that you're doubting their choices and it's going to hurt his feelings."

"'M not, 'm not," Harry countered though his argument barely had legs, "'M jus' nervous, that's all."

Falling into the worn recliner tucked away in the corner of Harry's living room, Mitch heaved a heavy sigh. A look of sympathy shot through his gaze, letting Harry know he understood where he was coming from but was still bent on his tough love approach of making him go. "Have you talked to her at all today?"

Shaking his head, the tea shades perched on the top of his head jostling in his hair, Harry spoke, "No. She doesn't even know 'm coming tonight. She texted me the address this morning and that she hoped to see me there, but I didn't say anything back because I wasn't sure."

A dumbfounded look twisted Mitch's features, the shock of Harry's words pulling him to sit straight in the sagging cushions, "Text her back, then! Tell her you're coming and that you can't wait to see her! What are you thinking?!"

Harry resisted the urge to pick at his freshly painted nails, knowing that if any chips appeared it would only make him spiral further. "I don't know. 'M not sure if she's only doing this to be nice to me because I told her I'd never been invited to any of these things."

The coach facade Mitch had taken on for the night fell at the sight of his friend practically deflating at the thought. "She said she wanted to spend time with you, Harry—you, specifically. If she was only trying to be nice, she wouldn't have said that," Mitch encouraged, sitting with his elbows perched on his knees as he pinned his gaze to Harry across the room, "You've told me you feel like she's a really honest person, so believe her. I think you're going to have a lot of fun tonight, you just have to let yourself."

Harry sucked in a deep breath, his eyes falling to the black loafers he had on his feet. He nodded his head slowly as if the motion was done only to convince himself of the affirmations. "Okay," he breathed, peeking at his friend through the gaps in his lashes, "What time is it?"

Glancing at his phone, Mitch then jerked his chin in the direction of the front door, "Time for you to go if you want to be fashionably late, but not too late to miss anything."

He reached for the plush cat he had resting on the table by his keys, the key accessory to the costume. Harry chanced a glance back at his best friend, "Are y'sure you can't come with me tonight?"

"Nope," he answered simply, a shake of his head rustling the long tendrils of his hair, "Already committed to Sarah's plans of staying in and watching scary movies tonight. Text me if you need a ride home, though."

With the grey kitten tucked under his arm and his friend ushering him out of his own apartment, Harry did anything he could to work up a last minute sprinkling of blind confidence. He hoped he could somehow channel the adrenaline rush a good scary movie gave him, the feeling enough to help him carry through on his plan for the night.

"Thank you for hanging out with me tonight, and helping me get ready, Mitch," Harry smiled, though the curl was shaky. Mitch abandoned his post in the recliner, moving to step beside Harry to follow him out. "Will you tell Sarah I said hi?"

Mitch let out an aerated laugh, "I will."

Once outside his apartment, Mitch eyeing the shaky hands that Harry used to lock the door behind him, he figured more encouragement wouldn't hurt. "I'm happy you're going, H. You'll have to tell me all about it when you get home."

"Me too," Harry swallowed, nodding his head though the motion was slightly disjointed, "I jus' need to get there, and then I'll feel better. This is the hard part."

"Well, then go and I'll talk to you later, okay?" Mitch ushered him as they approached the flight of open stairs leading out of the apartment complex.

Harry took one last glance at his glossy nails and hugged the stuffed kitten to his side in a motion he hadn't meant to make but comforted him nonetheless. He nodded his head to Mitch's words before waving him off to his own car. In the solitude of his slowly heating vehicle, Harry took a deep breath.

He could do this, he knew that. He was going to do this because of (Y/N). And, he was going to have fun with her. He would make sure of it.

—————

Harry couldn't say he'd ever been to this neighborhood without his pizza delivery uniform on.

The Greek lettering that named each of the houses was illuminated at the peak of the architecture. He had driven past the Sigma Pi house a handful of times while searching for a parking spot that wasn't blocking a driveway or would land him with any kind of complaint. That left him to park almost a full block away, just on the edge of the fraternity side of the Row. Now, he had to take a long walk up the only vaguely familiar neighborhood.

Practically every house Harry walked by had flashing lights and the echo of pounding music flooding from inside. The Halloween themed decorations plastered along the outer facade of the party houses were jostled with each whiff of the experience going on inside that was granted every time the door was opened. He, luckily, didn't feel too out of place considering he wasn't the only one dressed up, but he definitely felt a few questioning glances from the handful of sober people that passed him by. He had been prepared with the fact that most of the party-goers weren't going to immediately recognize his costume (Erwin Schrödinger wasn't exactly a trending icon this season), but he liked it and he knew there had to be at least a few people who would get it. He hoped (Y/N) would at least.

Nonetheless, Harry held the stuffed cat to his side as he approached the Sigma Pi sorority house. This party in particular was teeming with activity, even with a short line having developed at the front door. He knew some of the Greek party traditions, having been drunkenly quizzed every time he had to deliver a stack of pizzas from Wanda's years ago. Since he was a guy (it was an either an attempt to keep weirdos out or to keep the female to male ratio teetering in the direction of the former), he was going to have to know someone who lived at the house, be someone's plus one, or be recognized enough to be allowed in without question. He knew two of those options weren't going to fit him, leaving the hope that knowing (Y/N) would be enough to get through the door.

The short line that had formed dispersed quickly as it was made up of majority girls who were let in without a hitch. Harry met the wannabe bouncer on the rickety white porch that wrapped around the front of the sorority, with the group of his friends standing off to the side waiting for him to be free.

The guard, dressed as a version of Scooby-Doo with high-tops on his feet, squinted at Harry with puzzlement twitching in his features. Without an introduction, his eyes scanned over Harry's form, "What are you supposed to be? A pussy doctor?"

Harry couldn't stop the huffed laugh that bubbled through at Scooby's guess. He figured he could look like he was trying to make a joking costume of a gynecologist with his lab coat and plush cat. He shook his head though the edges of his lips fought off a smile, "No, 'm Erwin Schrödinger."

A blank look was all he received in response.

Shuffling his feet, Harry tried again. "Like, Schrödinger's Cat?"—he shook the kitten in his hand as if that would jog his memory—"The thought experiment that questions quantum superposition?"

Scooby's brown spotted eyes showed a lack of recognition though he still nodded as if he got what Harry was explaining. "Oh, cool, cool. I see it now, man. So, you know anyone here? I don't think I've seen you around before."

Shaking hands fiddled with the faux glasses tucked into his breast pocket, "Um, yeah. I know (Y/N)—she invited me."

"Oh!" he sounded, eyes brightening at the sound of the familiar name, "(Y/N), yeah, she said she had a friend coming later. You can go on in, man."

"Thank you," Harry smiled through his mumbled words, stepping carefully over the worn boards under his feet.

"Wait, what's your name?"

Harry halted at the sudden question, looking to the side where the now friendly bouncer had stopped him. "I'm Harry."

"Nice to meet you, Harry." Scooby extended his hand out for one of those casual handshakes all frat brothers are expected to know, except for the fact Harry only knew it from the repeated appearance of it on campus. "See you in there. Tell (Y/N) I said hi."

Nodding with a slight smile on his face, Harry escaped the sudden friendship he didn't realize he was forging. He didn't know Scooby's real name, so he wasn't quite sure how he was going to tell (Y/N) about his greetings. But, Harry decided he'd worry about that when he actually found her.

Slipping through the slightly cracked door, he was greeted to the sight of a packed party house. The living room was fit on a lowered platform, leaving a clear border for the makeshift dance floor to be made. Still the flood of people created small dance circles and corners where guests were shuffling to the beat of the song with the limited space they had. The dimmed lights were occasionally swapped out for purple and magenta colored bulbs, glinting over the black and orange metallic garland strung throughout the room and hanging from the banisters. Though it made no logical sense, the music was almost so loud, Harry felt like he couldn't see very well through the throngs of people.

Until he saw (Y/N) bounding down the stairs, of course.

He had been starting to get worried that he should have told her he was coming just in the off chance they could have made a designated meeting spot so he wasn't left standing around like a potted plant. But, it was like she had heard his calls to her he was making in his head and started a stumbling descent down the packed staircase behind a couple other girls he recognized from campus. The hand not holding a red plastic cup was clutched in the grip of the girl in front of her; a platinum blonde with a shag haircut dressed as something of a space cowgirl with neon and LEDs littering her fringed, denim jumpsuit. That had to be Ny, Harry figured, the bubbly blonde (Y/N) lived with and thought so highly of.

The second (Y/N)'s eyes caught sight of Harry standing like a dope in the middle of a bustling party, they widened to match the splitting grin stretching her lips.

"Harry!" She shooed her friends off with a promise to catch up with them later as she stumbled over to him, the only obstacle in her way being her lack of balance and the white go-go boots on her feet. "I didn't know you were coming tonight, hi!"

"Hi," he breathed. A dreamy smile covered his features now that he was in her presence, feeling a weight drift from his shoulders. "Kind of a last minute decision, didn't have time to tell you."

With her free hand, (Y/N) reached out and laid her hand on the bulk of Harry's bicep, her hold gentle as she curled her fingers around. Harry practically froze at the touch, the only thing still reacting in his body being his rapidly beating heart and the rise of blood to color his cheeks. He was going to have to thank Mitch for convincing him to go out tonight; he was suddenly very into the Halloween spirit.

"I'm so happy you made it! You look so good, I love your costume!"—a pause settled as she ran her gaze over his form—"...What is it?"

An airy laugh left his lips, "'M Erwin Schrödinger—you know, Schrödinger's cat?" He offered her the stuffed kitten, hoping for (Y/N) to make the connection to one of the previous week's physics lessons.

Doubtful recognition built in her eyes. "Stanfill talked about him in class the other day, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, that's him. Quantum superposition, remember?"

"Yeah, that!" (Y/N) bubbled, though Harry was almost completely sure she didn't know what he was talking about outside of the cat reference. At least, she was trying and expressing some interest given the fact he was sure physics was the last thing on her mind on a Saturday night. "I really like it, Harry! You look so cool, and your kitten is cute."

His signature blushed cheeks made their second, full-force appearance in the last few minutes. "Thank you," he smiled, tucking his plushie into one of the deep pockets of his lab coat, "You look really nice, too. Are you from the sixties?" Harry cringed at the stiff compliment; she looked much better than nice but he couldn't get anything else past his lips.

Her small top was colored with psychedelic daisies and swirls in bold yellow, pink and cream tones, the fabric cut short to reveal her midriff and a generous view of her décolletage and cleavage with the way it came to a tie between her breasts. The sleeves were long and trumpeted out to bell shapes around her wrists with a small trim of daisy fringe around the hem. A matching skirt was stretched high over her waist and came to a short stop at the mid of her thighs, the fabric tightly conformed to the silhouette of her hips. Though not much leg was on display with the help of the over-the-knee white boots clinging to the shape of her. Her makeup was simple with glossy lips and bunched lashes to recreate the look of the models of the time-period, leaving the white daisies drawn on the high points of her cheeks to take his attention. She tied the look all together with the daisy studded headband preceding the beehive styled bump of her hair.

She looked gorgeous, really. If Harry worked carefully, he could use his tea shades to his advantage and switch his outfit around to resemble a Beatles member. Then, he would look like he belonged with her.

"Mhm," she eagerly nodded, "I'm a go-go dancer, like at those clubs! You like it?"

It was an innocent question, said through a beaming smile and bright eyes, but Harry couldn't stop the burn in his stomach at the sound of her seeking his approval. She was too cute for her own good—and for his too, if he wanted to return home in one piece.

"I do, yeah," he choked out, swallowing around the words that were able to squeak passed.

"Thank you," she smiled, glancing over her shoulder in the direction she had been headed before she got distracted with him. Her hand on his arm tightened, the weight being something Harry was hyper aware of through the whole interaction. "Do you want to get a drink with me? I was about to go get another when I saw you."

Harry bit back his flustered smile, nodding his head with a nervous jerk. "Yeah, sure. 'M not drinking tonight since I drove, but I'll come with you."

"Okay!" she chirped, drawing her hand down his arm to finish with her fingers wrapped around his wrist.

Following along behind her, Harry felt his blush rise to the apples of his cheeks. He was very aware of the fact that everyone stopping her to say hi and compliment her costume on the way to the makeshift bar set up in the kitchen saw her hand holding onto him. Even one of the guys that had screened him at the door had patted Harry on his back in congratulation as he passed before shooting his eyes to (Y/N) a step ahead with a raised brow. After that, Harry kept his eyes in front of him with his cheeks flushed, his instinctive shyness kicking in knowing that eyes were on him. (The girl in front of him was a welcome distraction, though, especially the shape of her hips and the curve of her ass in the tight cover of her skirt).

The crowd of partygoers thinned once they broke into the kitchen. A few straggling groups were plotted around the island, clearly drunk with matching outfits, but it was much easier to breathe and think in the tiled space. (Y/N) beelined it to the row of drinks and mix-ins settled on the counter, placing her plastic cup on the sticky surface.

Her idle hands fluttered about the many half full liquor bottles and jugs of room-temperature juice, a bright smile on her lips. More than once as she picked out the mix for her drink she looked to her left to find Harry still hovering where she left him. "I still can't believe you made it, Harry; I'm so happy! I was just telling the girls upstairs that I invited you, but I wasn't sure if you were coming since you hadn't texted me this morning. I just figured you got busy or couldn't get out of work tonight, but I'm so excited you're here!"

She looked to him with a large smile on her face, the daisies painted on her cheeks dancing at the movement. He could tell just how genuinely happy she was that he had taken her up on her invitation, the way she couldn't seem to settle now that she was in his presence telling him enough to make his heart burst. Now that he was with her, Harry couldn't believe he was so scared to go and was this close to backing out of attending.

"'M happy 'm here, too, (Y/N)," he sighed blissfully, unable to get much more out around the bloating of his heart.

With her poorly mixed, lukewarm drink sitting finished, (Y/N) directed the full of her attention to him at the sound of her name. She gazed up at him with a dreamy smile on her lips, his vision of her shrouded in feathery clouds and a rose-tinted vignette. If he hadn't been so preoccupied with his own bliss-induced outlook, Harry would have noticed the heart shaped lenses she was looking at him through.

"So," she started, breaking the marathon of eye contact Harry was reluctant to pull away from, "How did you get out of work tonight?" She edged towards the kitchen island that was littered with half drank cups of cocktails, hopping up to sit on a cleared section of counter. Swinging her legs, she sipped on her pink lemonade and vodka concoction with the wide of her eyes pinned on Harry.

He swallowed at the sight of her sat in the perfect position for him to spread her legs open and slip between her thighs. That was something he couldn't deny he had dreamed about when setting up for a stream, something to get him hard and in the moment. Most of his pre-show fantasies were built around her, ever since he started that physics class with her almost two months ago. But, Harry refrained from making those short steps to stand between the plush of her thighs, keeping himself stationed at the counter opposite her.

Her question was processed slowly before Harry recalled the lie he had made up when he hadn't been so sure about showing up to the party; a lie he worked on top of the other lie he made about his job. "I—uh—I jus' told m'boss I had food poisoning and I couldn't come in," he laughed, though his smile was a bit stiff.

The truth was, he had planned on doing a special stream tonight on the cam-site, but instead he made a quick post on his page about extra premium content going up over the weekend and got ready to go out instead.

(Y/N) let out an unexpectedly loud laugh at his low-level joke, almost doubling over from where she sat. That's how he knew she was on the edge of tipsy, moving into drunken territory. Nonetheless, it only made Harry think she was even cuter.

"Well, I'm happy you're not really sick," she smiled when she calmed down, looking him over. When she met his own gaze, the edges around her amused eyes softened. "Come here. You're so far away."

Her eyes sparkled in the dim lights that filled the sorority house, drawing Harry even deeper in the dream that made her up. Her lips curled into a smile that matched the soft of her skin as she reached her free hand out towards him to beckon him to the cage of her spread legs. She was asking him to come closer, and Harry was just lucky that his heart hadn't completely beat out of his chest yet.

With his palms clamming up, Harry took careful steps in her direction, unable to deny her of any request. At the sight of him moving closer, (Y/N) dropped her hand and spread her legs wide enough to fit him between despite the short skirt that wrapped around the full of her thighs.

"Do you... Is it okay if I...?" he asked, flicking his eyes to the space she made for him. He eased an extra step towards her, carefully awaiting her permission.

"Yes! Come here, already," she giggled, hooking her gogo-booted ankle around the back of his knee. She tugged him close enough to grab at the fabric of his lab coat, though she kept her ankle hiked around his leg even when he was right where she wanted him.

A bright red blush colored his cheeks as he felt the full of her thighs around his hips. He made a point to keep his hands to himself, his fingers tangling together in an effort to keep from spanning across the smooth skin revealed by the short of her skirt.

(Y/N) gazed up at him perfectly content now that he wasn't a world away like she had felt. The alcohol on her breath was masked by the sweetness of artificially flavored pink lemonade, though it was her smile that drew Harry in and the way she couldn't seem to look at any of his features long enough before she was searching through the planes of his face again.

"What's your favorite color?"

Harry reared back some at the sudden question though his lips still twitched at the edges. He trailed his gaze to the yellow daisies printed on her cheeks before matching her eyes. "Um, yellow. Why?"

Her grin brightened at his answer, twisting dreamily in her spot as she shrugged. "I don't know. I don't feel like I know a lot about you, but I want to."

Practically melting in his spot, Harry felt like his heart couldn't beat any harder. God, she was so cute. She wouldn't make this easy on him, keeping his hands to himself.

"Your favorite color is pink, right?" Harry prompted, biting back his smile to keep it from growing and scrunching his eyes too much to be able to see her.

Bouncing in her spot and tightening her ankle around the back of his knee, (Y/N) perked up at Harry's correct answer. "Yes! How did you know?!"

A breathy laugh preluded his words, "Jus' a good guess. Your laptop case, your bag, and almost everything you wear is pink. Thought it would be a safe assumption."

"You are so good at remembering things, Harry! That's probably why you're so smart." Her words were edging on slurred but he knew they were completely genuine. It still made his chest puff with pride that she thought so highly of him; that she appreciated his brain and intelligence that he worked so hard to cultivate. "You know," (Y/N) continued, "I was telling my roommate how smart you are, and how you want to go into something with physics or engineering when we graduate, but I feel like I couldn't even explain it right. You're just so smart, and I don't know what half of that even means." She finished with an exorbitant laugh, the sound a little too loud to be considered sober.

Harry found his thoughts stuck on the fact that she had spoken about him to her roommate, the notion rounding out his eyes and shrouding his vision of her in a glittering veil of affection. He rolled his lips between his teeth, aware of her eyes glazing over his form. "You're plenty smart, (Y/N), really. Y'don't give yourself enough credit. Jus' because physics is harder for you, doesn't mean you're not smart in so many other ways that I lack."

"See!" (Y/N) bubbled, reaching for the lapel of his lab coat and hiking her leg around his own, "That's why I like you, Harry! You're so smart, but you're not mean about it. You're so kind all the time—like, all of the time!"

She liked him?

Maybe Harry was reading too far into it, but, nonetheless, the childish sentiment that she liked him made his heart race and his blush rise to the tops of his cheekbones. Even though he wasn't the one that had been sipping on the liquid courage, he was going to take advantage of the sweetened mood (Y/N) was in and let some of his own affections slip.

"I like you, too, (Y/N)," he mumbled, just quiet enough for the two of them, "Thank you for always being nice to me, even though I know 'm not the most outgoing person."

(Y/N) settled her plastic cup on the counter beside her (Harry made a note to keep an eye on her drink for her) to free her hands. She reached for the tangle of Harry's own that knotted together in the time he stood between her legs, and laced her fingers between his. Her eyes dropped to their entwined hands as she laid them on the full of her thighs, laying Harry's palm flat over her skin. She slipped her fingers out from between his and moved to wrap them around his wrists before she looked up at him with a smile brighter than any he'd seen cross her features.

She took in a breath like she was going to speak before (Y/N) was abruptly cut off and distracted by the flock of party goers parading through the kitchen. They stumbled towards the glass door that led to the backyard, some stragglers occasionally grabbing for bottles of liquor all the while slurring through conversations. Celebratory hollers were heard throughout the small space, just enough of a commotion to steal (Y/N)'s hazy attention.

The long procession filtered through, some vaguely familiar faces from around campus patted Harry on the back and cheered him on upon seeing the somewhat intimate position he was tangled in. He dropped his gaze to where his hands were splayed over (Y/N)'s thighs with his cheeks flaming to a warm red. It wasn't like that, he knew, but this was now the second time of the night that he had been praised for supposedly winning (Y/N) for the night.

"(Y/N)!" a somewhat familiar voice shouted over the sound of the flock, the chittering of heeled boots on the tiled floor following after.

"Ny!" (Y/N) called back, jumping under Harry's hold with her hands on his wrists disappearing as she reached for the girl behind him. He looked over his shoulder to find (Y/N)'s roommate who he had only seen in flashes of blonde hair and bright colors, though he had heard enough stories to give the illusion she was also his roommate.

"I lost you for a while, where did you go?" Ny slurred, abandoning the group she had been filtering in with to approach the bundle that was made up of Harry and (Y/N).

"I found Harry—see!" She gestured to him in the way of settling her hand on the strong of his bicep, squeezing as if to ensure that this was the one she was talking about, "Ny, this is Harry. Harry, this is my roommate, Naomi!"

Harry intended to reach his hand out to shake hers, a proper introduction to ensure a good first impression, but Ny—Naomi as he was told—only looked at him with a pair of wide blue eyes. She looked to (Y/N) who still held him securely between her thighs with an ankle around his leg, before returning her gaze to his form, "You're Harry?!"

"Yeah, that's me," Harry smiled, a shy pair of dimples denting into his flushed cheeks.

"Nice to finally meet you, Harry," she smiled, flicking her gaze to (Y/N) almost imperceptibly before sliding smoothly back to Harry like nothing happened.

"Nice to meet you, too," he mumbled, itching to turn his gaze to (Y/N) to see if she had any expression on her face he was missing.

"Well, I'll be outside with everyone," Ny smiled, shooting another look towards (Y/N) as she edged out of the kitchen, "Come get me if you need anything."

"Okay! Bye, Ny!" (Y/N) shouted, a little too loud with the words dipped in pink lemonade and vodka.

From outside, the beginnings of a fire smoking from the main pit caught the edge of Harry's attention. He didn't have a good feeling about what was happening out there, but he would keep his eye on it all just in case.

"Harry?"

"Hm?" he hummed, whipping his attention to be placed back on her.

(Y/N)'s wandering hands settled on his shoulders, her glossy eyes trailing over the planes of his face. "Do you want to dance with me?"

Harry stilled in his spot at her question. He wasn't much of a dancer, if he was being honest—not without a planned routine and some help and time to learn it, anyway. Tuning into the music that was playing from beyond the cover of the kitchen he found heavy bass notes and the sound of spitfire lyrics filtering through. When his attention zeroed back in on the girl in front of him, and despite the fact he was almost sure he was going to embarrass himself with whatever moves he pulled out, he knew he couldn't say no to her.

Swallowing hard, he gave a short nod of his head, "Um, sure."

Luckily, (Y/N) didn't catch onto the hesitation he showed with the help of the plastic cup she was now abandoning as she jumped from the counter. She chattered off something about following her as Harry stepped back to give her room. He didn't get very far before his hand was caught in the soft of her hold as she dragged him out to the living area fashioned as the dance floor.

The wood laminate floor was sticky under Harry's feet as he followed her, his reciprocating grip on her hand tightening as she led them through the crowd. The floor practically vibrated under his feet, the impact of the bass rattling the floorboards as they went. (Y/N) stopped him in the heart of the room, the music too loud to hear anything but. The others around them tailored their movements to the beat of the song, either drunk or confident enough to not worry about anyone else around them. Looking at them all, Harry realized he really had no idea how to dance to this.

Before he had longer than a second to worry, (Y/N) reached up and wrapped her arms around Harry's neck. She tugged him to her level as she rose to the tips of her toes, angling her head to speak into his ear.

"I love this song!" she shouted over the music, the full of her lips brushing the skin before his ear.

She had already dropped to her normal height (normal with the heels of her boots, anyway) by the time he intended to respond. Slipping her hands from the curve of his neck, she settled them on the broad of his shoulders. Her hips moved instinctively to the sound of the music, easing her closer to Harry. She fell in line with the beat, contentedly lending herself to the sway of the bass.

Hesitantly, Harry reached out towards her. He ghosted his hands over the curve of her waist. "Is this okay?" he called, bending at the knees to meet her height.

"Yes! I want to dance with you, Harry!" she hollered, a bubbling giggle following afterward.

(Y/N)'s eyes closed as she melted in his hold, teeth sinking into the plush of a coral stained bottom lip. Harry followed her lead in hopes that the same confidence and relaxation would leak into his muscles. Her hips glided against his own. It took a bit of coaxing before (Y/N)'s body had convinced him to fit a leg between her own, locking their nearness in place. She was the perfect distraction, he decided; though she wouldn't make him gain rhythm, she took the brunt of his attention and made the rest of the room fall away enough to relax him.

Her movements revealed just how tipsy she was, making Harry that much more careful with his hands on her waist. Every time she made a misstep (even occasionally stepping on his toes), he could just barely make out the sound of her laughter over the sound of the music, though her eyes were still shuddered behind coral shaded eyelids. His fingers slipped over her back, the skin revealed by her crop top feeling soft under his hands as he kept her steady.

Harry had dreamed of being this close to her from the second he found the courage to steal the seat beside her in Stanfill's lecture. He was hyper aware of her hands on his shoulders that squeezed when she stumbled, the brush of her hair against his skin whenever she would flip the tresses out of her way, and the length of her body swaying with the movement of her hips. The already humid room felt hotter with her so near, Harry's heart rate spiking high with his cheeks glowing pink under the deep purple lighting. He felt her everywhere, starting with the curve of her form under his palms to the flocking of butterflies flapping through his stomach.

A few songs later, Harry found himself comfortable with the way (Y/N) was dancing on him and had curated his own moves that helped him blend in with the rest of the crowd. That is until (Y/N) changed the position. This new song playing through the speakers had a baseline heavy enough that it almost came out distorted through the speakers, altering the mood of the other partygoers around them. Some hollered at the song choice, celebrating with varied dance moves and shouts of the lyrics Harry couldn't catch as (Y/N) pulled away from him.

She seemed just as overjoyed with the DJ's choice, a bright smile on her features before she spun around in Harry's hold. She stopped with her back to his chest and her bottom pressed firmly against his crotch.

"Hold me here!" she shouted, reaching for his wrists to slide his hands to rest on the curve of her hips.

If he thought he was aware of her form before this, Harry wasn't going to be able to get her curves out of his head now. The sway of her hips was now exaggerated as she brushed against his own in time to the beat. Her fingers curled into the excess strips fabric that tied her top together making Harry's eyes widen every time she tugged just a bit on the bow. Her hair had been gathered to one side, leaving Harry to see the length of her lashes and the curl of her lips as she enjoyed herself. Harry did his best to follow her lead, but he wanted nothing more than to bask in the show she was giving and let her fill the role of the dancer she was dressed as.

Nonetheless, he imitated the movement of her hips, working as her counterpart to the gentle rolls she delivered into his crotch. He kept his hands steady on her though he felt anything but with the way the curve of her ass ground against him. By the time another song was being transitioned into, (Y/N) broke from the heady character that had taken over. She reached one hand up and back to drape across the nape of Harry's neck, fingertips toying with the baby hairs there.

Pulling him down as she turned her head, she spoke to him in what could be considered a whisper with the volume of the rest of the room, "You're really good at this!"

He couldn't be more thankful for the drink she had prior to this, because this meant she hadn't noticed his clumsy fumbling and the rush he went through to keep up with her. "'M—uh—'m jus' following you," he returned.

Her smile could be felt against his pink dusted cheeks.

(Y/N) allowed him to revel in his moment as she slipped back into the fold of the music, her hand falling from around his neck to resume the dizzying game of how much the bow binding her top together could take before it unraveled. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

His breathing turned heavy the longer she played with him. Harry was more than willing to partake in the game, especially the few times she would bend at the waist just a bit to allow her ass to pop against his hips that much more. Her body moved in smooth rolls that Harry had to withdraw his eyes from in fear that she would notice something that didn't match the soft of her body poking into her behind. All the while, he could hear bits of bubbling giggles and breathy laughter falling from her as if she didn't intend to come off so sexy. He could just see the edging of the smile on her face that told him all he needed to know: this was fun for her. That only made it harder for Harry to keep a lid on the attraction he felt for her right then.

When (Y/N)'s hand returned to Harry's neck a medley of songs later, he couldn't help the tense that tightened his muscles. Her fingers familiarly threaded through the baby curls that lined the back of his neck, a layer of goosebumps trailing in her wake. He automatically understood what she was asking of him as he lent down to have his ear level with her lips. Her breath was warm on the curve of his neck, drawing Harry in as his hands tightened on her hips.

"Did I bring my drink with me?"

A breathy laugh broke the anticipation he felt pattering his heart. He gently shook his head, aware of the tip of her nose just at the level of his jawline. "No, y'left it in the kitchen, remember?"

She all but deflated in his hold. "Oh shoot. Will you come with me to get another, then?"

Besides the fact that she was working as perfect cover for the hint of a hard-on he was sporting in his pants, Harry knew he would follow her anywhere at this point.

"Lead the way."

(Y/N) repeated the ritual of grabbing for his wrist that Harry was now looking forward to when navigating the party. She took him to the kitchen island that acted as the bar, the selection now left with bare bones since bottles were taken to the backyard when Ny's group passed through.

"Do you want a water?" she asked, as she reached for a bottle of rum, "I bet there's some in the fridge!"

Harry gazed at her through the veil of affection, trying to figure how the girl who had been dancing on him on the other side of the wall was the same one offering to get him a bottle of water with a bright smile on her daisy spotted face. "'M okay, but thank you," he declined softly, resting his hip against the counter to watch her.

She bubbled off an okay! as she settled for mixing what could be considered a shot with pineapple juice folded in with the rum. Her pours were sloppy as is, but her skills only worsened when her attention was taken by the small string of people that came in from the outside. Harry made a point to scoot her cup under the stream she splashed out, saving her from the stick that would have rained over the toes of her boots.

"Do you want to go outside with me?!" she peeped, lazily screwing the top back on the remaining pineapple juice. Though her bleary eyes took a second to focus on him, the soft curve of her lips never lessened at the sound of her new idea.

He flicked his gaze to the window that showcased the dwindling fire and the few others that remained huddled around it. He spotted one couple cuddled close to the fire with a blonde-headed nurse sat on the lazy football player's lap, giggling and whispering to one another in a make-believe private moment. Harry's heart thrummed at the idea that that could be him and (Y/N).

"Yeah, let's go," Harry agreed with a soft smile, a flush working its way up his neck as he readily offered her his hand.

After letting out a small cheer, (Y/N) took her shot like a champ. She pulled a puckered face before taking his offered hand and rushing him out the back door with her. The air was crisp and cold once they left the warmth of the party behind them. Harry hadn't realized just how humid it had been when he was dancing with her until the autumnal air shivered over his form and chilled his skin. His hand was kept warm in (Y/N)'s as he followed after her somewhat wobbly bounds off the cracked concrete patio towards the small group around the fire pit.

Harry could practically see the lightbulb go off over her head when her gaze zeroed in on the trampoline set up in the far corner of the backyard. She halted in her steps but bounced in her spot. Beaming, she turned on the chunk of her heel to face Harry.

"Do you think we're allowed to go on that?"

Her eyes were wide with her bunched lashes fluttering under her raised brows with her mouth dropped into a small gape. Harry didn't have an accurate answer for her, he knew that, but he wasn't losing his yes streak now.

"I'd think so," he said with a lopsided smile, shrugging his shoulder.

(Y/N) all but squealed before she rushed them towards the trampoline. Harry was unable to wipe the smile from his face as he followed her and helped lift her through the entrance in the net. He paired their shoes off together beside the broken step stool that creaked with every pace Harry climbed.

With a giggling smile, (Y/N) was already bouncing about the nylon net by the time Harry crawled through the opening. Her hair fluttered around her with the added flourish of the sleeves of her top spiraling. She urged him to hurry, beckoning him to C'mon! Jump with me!

When Harry found his footing, he matched her jumps and completed the circle that she was starting with her own path around the perimeter. Every time his jump impacted her and took her higher than on her own, a screaming laugh left her lips as she sailed through the air. A sheen covering her costume he hadn't noticed before, sparkled in the moonlight, the fringe of her sleeves shimmering each time she shot up to join the stars in the sky. She began to twirl and spin every time she launched over the netting, her eyes closing when she started her descent down.

"Harry, you stole my jump!" she called when he bounced at the same time as her, a faux pout puffing at her lips.

"'M sorry, 'm sorry," he laughed, the sound coming out created a soft in the crisp air around them. He slowed to a standstill, giving her the floor, "Try now, lo—(Y/N)."

He could only be grateful for the fact it was dark out and she was too tipsy to notice the flush climbing up his cheeks at the slip of his tongue.

(Y/N) happily took over the main space and bounced a few more times with a giggling smile on her lips. He couldn't take his eyes off her as he leant against one of the beams spreading the protective net out, feeling winded just watching her.

Eventually, (Y/N) came down and didn't launch herself back in the air. Instead, she settled on her feet and looked to Harry with glazed eyes and glowing cheeks.

"What are you thinking about?" she questioned, sinking to sit on the center of the trampoline. She patted her hand flat on the spot beside her, beckoning Harry to take the space.

"Nothing," Harry said, shaking his head as he took careful strides to stop next to her, "Jus' nice out tonight, that's all."

"Yeah," she sighed dreamily, looking towards the clear sky, "You're right." She lent back with her hands splayed behind her to prop her up. Craning her neck, she gazed all around the starry expanse over their heads. After a moment, she lost some of her balance and fell flat on her back with a feathery smile on her features.

When she didn't sit up and laid with her hooded eyes pinned on the sky, Harry nudged her gently with his knee. "Y'alright?" he prosed, voice gentle.

Her attention slid from the stars and landed squarely on Harry with glossy eyes. "Lay with me?"

The lopsided smile on his features picked a single dimple into his cheek. Nudging her again, he laid himself in the space beside her, taken aback when she pulled on his arm to extend it out for her. Before he even had a chance to settle, (Y/N) was already cuddling into his side with his bicep acting as her pillow.

His heart was beating a mile a minute as he laid down, toes curling in his socks. He knew he was supposed to be staring at the sky and picking out the shapes in the stars with her, but he couldn't stop himself before his eyes shuttered closed with a shaky breath filling his lungs. He felt clean—refreshed—to finally be so close to her. This somehow felt more intense than the way she was dancing on him earlier, the cover of the quiet making it so there was nothing else to concentrate on but the curve of her form pressed into his side.

"Will you play a game with me?" (Y/N) asked quietly, hooking her ankle around his own and effectively stopping Harry's heart.

"What game?"

"Well," she prattled, reaching for the stuffed kitten he had stowed away in one of the large pockets of his coat. She cradled the plush to her chest with her fingertips absently combing through the fur and brushing against it's nose, "I want to get to know you, so—I know it's kind of stupid, but do you want to play twenty questions?"

The butterflies in his stomach moved in a full-fledged kaleidoscope through his stomach and flapped their wings against the chambers of his heart. God, she was so cute.

"You first, then."

—————

Harry hadn't kept count but he was sure they played way more than only twenty questions.

(Y/N) had asked him twice what his favorite animal was (he answered differently both times), and found out what his top five favorite songs were but only after she accidentally answered it herself. The whole time Harry had a smile on his face bright enough to rival the moon above them. He learned that she wanted to dress like a go-go dancer to class everyday, but it took too much effort and yellow wasn't always her color. She told him her favorite subject in high school was a tie between History and Home Ec.—she loved her history teacher, but getting to eat almost every day in home ec. was hard to compete with. All the while, Harry kept his arm securely around her with his shoulder acting as her pillow.

As their game went on, (Y/N)'s words started to slur and grew slower and slower. He figured that all of the alcohol was now starting to catch up with her, but when he asked her a question that gained no response, he chanced a look at her. He found her fast asleep beside him with her hands hiding the prop cat in her chest. She pressed herself into his side for warmth with the sleeves of her top draped over her exposed tummy like a sort of blanket. Her ankle was still hooked around his own, keeping him close as if he had anywhere else to be.

Though his arm was starting to fall asleep with pinpricks of static pain appearing in the muscle, he didn't move her. He tried his best not to even shift in hopes of keeping her quietly asleep cuddled into his side. The stars above him became his entertainment, the game of connect-the-dots in his head suddenly morphing into portraits of the girl under his arm.

When he heard footsteps approaching the trampoline, Harry didn't pay it any mind, figuring it was just another straggler wondering why there were two people laid out in the middle of the nylon.

"Harry, is that you?"

He jumped at the sound of his own name from a semi-familiar voice. He turned his head as best he could without jostling (Y/N) to find Naomi peeking through the unzipped entrance. Her shoulders were tensed with her brows furrowed. "Y-Yeah," he stuttered, voice kept quiet, "Is everything okay?"

"Is that (Y/N) with you?" she pressed, trying to peer over Harry's build to the spot of yellow and pink at his side.

"Um, yeah. She's right here; she fell asleep," he elaborated, fighting the awkward angle in his neck that threatened to pull a muscle with the way he was straining it to face her.

Ny relaxed with the set in her shoulders finally deflating. "Oh, good," she sighed, "I've been looking for her for the last ten minutes. Thank you for hanging out with her all night, though. She was so nervous you weren't going to come."

Harry hoped (Y/N)'s roommate wouldn't catch the brightened hue that flooded his cheeks as he smiled. "Really?"

Her blue eyes scanned over his features and the poorly hidden affection he held in them. He was smitten with (Y/N), what could he say?

She peered over him for a second to catch sight of (Y/N) on the other side. "Don't tell her I told you this because she'd kill me, but," she started before dropping her gaze to match his, "She really likes you. She talks about you all the time at home; she always goes on about how cool and nice she thinks you are. I know she was really wanting to see you tonight, and it made her really happy that you showed up. So, thanks for watching out for her even if all she did was fall asleep on you."

He knew his cheeks must be beet red at this point. The pounding of his heart was loud enough that he feared (Y/N) would feel the vibrations going through his veins and wake up. But, god, how could he be worried or concerned about anything when Ny had told him all of that. (Y/N) was always so cool and collected around him—exceedingly kind, but he figured that was more of  a trait she held instead of something special for him—, so he never quite fathomed that she might have an inkling of feelings for him. Mitch was going to have a heyday getting to tell him I told you so.

Swallowing around his heart in his throat, Harry tried to speak over the sound of the beats. "I... I really like her, too. She's very nice."

He cringed at the impersonal compliment that fell from his lips, but it was all his muddled brain could come up with. Ny let out an airy laugh nonetheless, a knowing smile on her lips. He was exactly like (Y/N) described him, she thought.

"So, I called an Uber for her and I," she said, jerking his chin towards (Y/N), "It should be here in the next couple of minutes... Unless, you were planning on taking her home?"

For a flicker, Harry wanted nothing more than to be selfish and take up the job of getting her home. He would wait until she woke or until he decided it was too cold for her to continue to sleep outside, then he would get the privilege of driving her home and spending that much more time with her. But, when he tossed his gaze back to the go-go dancer beside him, he knew that wasn't fair to her. She was dead on her feet, tired enough to have fallen asleep outside in the middle of talking to him in a mini skirt and crop top. It wasn't fair to keep her out when she had a warm bed at home to fall into.

"No," he shook his head, beginning to gently move his arm out from under her and sit up, "She needs to get some rest in a real bed." He caught just the edge of Naomi's soft smile before he directed the full of his attention to (Y/N). He slipped his arm out from around her, (Y/N) trying to follow the warmth he was taking away as she stretched. He settled his hand on her shoulder, circulation slowly returning in somewhat painful pulses. "(Y/N)," he cooed, voice soft in the dark, "Gotta wake up. Naomi's here and she's got a car waiting out front to take y'home."

A groggy groan came from her lips in conjunction with a stretch of her limbs. Her eyes stayed shuttered closed until Harry uttered another soft call of her name. She blinked them open, gifting him with the eyes he had seen in the stars only ten minutes prior. Though her gaze was hooded, she pinned her eyes right on Harry.

"What?" she sounded, a rasp to her unused voice.

Harry let out an airy laugh. "Ny's here to take y'home."

"Oh," she sighed, relaxing back into the nylon that acted as her mattress. Her eyes flitted over his form before settling on his face, "Are you coming with us?"

He knew logically that it was impossible for a heart to bound out of a chest or a smile to embed itself on his lips, but, in this moment, he felt he could question all of that.

"No, not tonight," he reasoned, sliding his guiding hand to sit between her shoulder blades as she sat up, "But, y'can text me when y'get home safely. We can keep talking until y'fall asleep, too, if y'wanted."

A contented smile settled on her lips as she nodded her head, "I do want that."

Harry followed after her like a puppy as they slid off the trampoline. (Y/N) passed the stuffed animal back to him before dropping to the ground, not even bothering to slip back into her boots despite the dew covering the grass. Ny was silent as she watched them interact, Harry feeling her eyes as he helped ensure (Y/N) was steady on her feet and she had everything she needed. Naomi continued to allow them to have their moment as they worked their way through the pulsing party (Harry was especially diligent about ensuring no one stomped on (Y/N)'s bare feet and she didn't step on anything that could hurt her), (Y/N) more than once looking over her shoulder to make sure Harry was still following.

Once they made it to the porch out front, the space much less crowded than when Harry arrived, (Y/N) pivoted on her heel despite Ny continuing her path to the waiting car at the curb. She let go of Harry's hand—to his dismay—, but the disappointment was short-lived before she had her arms wrapped around his middle and her cheek smushed against his chest.

"Thank you for coming tonight, Harry," she mumbled, words distorted from the fact she refused to pull even a hair away from him, "Happy Halloween."

Though his response time lagged as he tried to render if he was in a dream or not, Harry looped his arms around her waist and held (Y/N) tightly to his chest. He didn't mind the way the boots she still held in her hand banged against the small of his back or how far he had to lean down to get a comfortable hold on her. Nothing could ruin this moment for him.

He dared to dip down and rest his nose in her hair, his eyes fluttering closed. "Happy Halloween, (Y/N)," he mumbled into the crown of her head, reveling in her touch.

All too soon, she released him. Taking a step back, she looked up to him with the beaming smile he was hoping to memorize and get him through the weekend. "I'll see you on Monday, right?" she asked as she quietly started edging away to where Ny was waiting.

He swallowed around the raging beats of his heart. "Yeah, I'll see y'Monday."

When he let her go, his hands fell to his sides with his palm brushing against the synthetic fur of his stuffed kitten. Pinning his eyes on her retreating form, Harry had one more idea to get one last spare moment with her before the magic of the night ended when she drove away.

She had only made it down a pair of steps leading to the concrete walkway that led to the sidewalk before Harry stopped her. "(Y/N), wait, hold on."

Perking up at the sound of her name, she turned on her toes with a question lacing her brows together. Harry scrambled to meet her on the steps as he clumsily reached for the cat. "Yo-You can have this," he stuttered, offering up the plush with a bright red flush sitting on the apples of his cheeks, "Since y'fell asleep with it and all, y'can take her home. She's yours."

(Y/N) tucked the length of her go-go boots under her arm, delicately taking the item from his hands with a matching smile on her lips. "She?"

His skin took on an even redder hue as he realized his slip. "Um, yeah," he laughed, fixing his gaze on the stuffed animal as if that would hide his embarrassment from her eyes, "I was jus' thinking of it as a girl, but it can be whatever y'want."

"No, you're right, I like that. She's a little girl." (Y/N) looked to him with the stars in her eyes, rivaling that of the patterns that were hung in the sky above them. Even if they were talking about something as silly as the prop he brought for his costume, Harry wasn't able to shake the rose colored lens he looked at her through.

Peeking over the top of her head, Harry caught Naomi looking at the pair of them with softened eyes before the Uber driver called something out to her—most likely an urge for her to collect her friend so they could leave. Ny nodded her head and said something before casting her gaze back to Harry with an apologetic smile on her face.

"I think your Uber is getting upset," he mumbled to (Y/N), "Y'should probably go."

Glancing over her shoulder, (Y/N) caught Ny beckoning her over with a wave of her hand. "Yeah, probably," she told Harry, edging towards her friend though she never drew her eyes away from him. With the kitten in her arms she asked him, "I'll text you when we get home?"

"Please."

Harry had his eyes on her until she was safe in the right Uber, Naomi tossing him a wave goodbye before she shut the door after them. Something of a daze passed over him as he made his way down to his own car a block over, nothing truly processing until he was in the quiet of his car.

He fucking loved Halloween.

—————

Harry was going to ask (Y/N) on a date.

After the party, he hadn't been able to keep himself from calling Mitch at one a.m. and spilling all the details about the past few hours. Sarah had been with him, and when Mitch transferred him to speaker, he got both of their opinions on all the things they considered "signs" that (Y/N) liked him just as much back (Sarah had cooed when he mentioned the hug), and the small revelation that Naomi had shared with him. In the end, they only backed up his decision to ask her out on Monday come their physics class. Mitch had even sent him a text that morning encouraging him to go for it, a quick pep talk to keep Harry from chickening out.

That's how Harry found himself arriving an additional five minutes early to the usual ten minutes he made it before Professor Stanfill started lecture. He was more than jittery as he took his spot next to (Y/N)'s unassigned-assigned seat. His hands were shaky with sweaty palms as he laid out his materials, eyes darting to the main door every few seconds in anticipation of her arrival. He already had a script of how he wanted to ask her, now all he needed was her.

He was on his fifth rehearsal in his head of how exactly he was going to ask her to dinner with him when (Y/N) finally stepped through the double doors that lead to the hall. She had a sleepy smile on her face as she scaled the stairs, the curl growing wider when she caught sight of him with his eyes already on her.

"Hey Harry," she greeted him once she was in range, "How are you?"

Bundling his hands in his lap to cover their trembling, Harry put a tight smile on his lips. "'M...'M really good," he sighed, his heartbeat growing louder in his ears, "How are you?"

Sitting down, (Y/N) reached for her laptop with an airy smile coloring her features, "Still recouping from Saturday, but I'm honestly doing a lot better than I thought I would be today."

"Saturday was a lot of fun, though," Harry muttered, having to fight off the grin that was threatening to explode over his face. He still had work to do before he could celebrate.

(Y/N) didn't get the memo as her smile grew wide over her cheeks and threatened to crinkle her eyes closed. She glanced at him from where she was pulling up her notes, "Yeah, it was."

Harry took a steadying breath as she paused, finding the right moment to ask the question that was running through his head like a mantra. Tightening his hands into fists, he broadened his shoulders and hoped the coaching Mitch sent him would be enough motivation.

"(Y/N), I wanted to ask y'something before class started actuall—"

"(Y/N)!"

A rowdy call of her name cut Harry off before he could even get the full of his words out. He followed the line of (Y/N)'s sight as she whipped her head toward the main doors she had crossed only a few minutes prior. There, a man stood with bronze hair standing in peeks on the top of his head with an award winning smile on his face. He wasn't anyone that Harry recognized, but (Y/N) was more than familiar with him if the smile on her face was anything to go by.

"Trystan," she called as he drew closer, a togo cup from the coffee shop (Y/N) usually brought with her in his hand, "What are you doing here?"

Harry was sure that if he squinted and read the cardboard sleeve on the cup, it would detail out a chai latte, two pumps of pumpkin flavor with an almond milk substitute.

"Just bringing you the chai I owed you from the other night," he—Trystan—beamed, sliding the cup onto the counter beside (Y/N), "It's still really hot, so be careful, hun."

(Y/N) face lit up at his words, mouth dropping into a grin though her eyes were never taken from his own. "Oh my god! Thank you so much! I wasn't even serious about that, but thank you!"

Trystan shook his head and nudged the cup closer to her, "Don't worry about it—it's the least I could do." Before (Y/N) could even reach for her new latte or take a sip, Trystan stood to the full of his height and opened his arms wide enough to rival his broad smile. "But I'm not leaving without one of these," he sang, a teasing lilt to his voice.

Harry watched on as (Y/N) gave a fluttering laugh and a playful roll of her eyes before standing from her seat. She wrapped her arms around him in the same way Harry had burned into his head. Trystan even dropped his head and whispered something to (Y/N) that caused a laugh to float through the air and travel with enough gusto to bruise Harry's heart. It hurt more than he liked to think about.

"I'll text you later, okay? Let me know how it goes" (Y/N) called as she let go, her friend running off though he tossed bright smiles over his shoulder at her. Harry didn't have it in himself to keep track of Trystan's response, the world around him going out of focus as his heart pumped at a pace that hurt his chest.

What had he been thinking? He really let everyone's encouragement go to his head when he should have listened to his instincts. Of course, she didn't like him, she was just a nice person who liked him as a friend and felt bad about his lack of party experience. She was drunk that night, of course she was going to be affectionate. Maybe he wasn't as smart as he thought he was if something like this had flown right over his head.

As Stanfill puttered about the front of the classroom, readying to begin his lecture, (Y/N) finally turned to face him with a smile he could only describe as smitten and the offending chai latte warming her palm. "Sorry, what were you saying, Harry?

He shook his head, busying himself with reaching for his glasses tucked in his bag. "It was nothing—I already forgot." He forced out a laugh to soften the stiff words.

(Y/N) hadn't a clue in the world as she joined in with a breathy laugh escaping her lips, "Okay, well, let me know if you remember."

"I will."

He wasn't ever going to 'remember'.

—————

magnetism is the force between two charges that draws them together

sooooooo much happens in this one its one of the longest parts in the whole piece!!!! thank u sososo much for reading and sorry for any mistakes! if you have any questions or ideas/predictions about next week's part send them in !!!!!

i’m so glad i came across this fic omg 😭

this is pure art i swear 🥺🫠 and i love the way you portray geto. so cute and so fucking hot!!!!!!!!!

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Summary: After waiting all this time to have you, Suguru finally gets to taste you in a whole new way.

Pairing: Suguru Geto x Fem Reader

** A sorta Part 2 of Do Not Answer **

Story Warning: Post Partum Sex, LACTATION KINK!!!, Smut, Milk Drinking (Suguru), Mutual Masturbation, Female and Male Masturbation, Profanity because I can only be me, Sprung Suguru, Primal Play/Marking, Creampie, A Sprinkle of Breeding Kink, Fingering, Fingersucking, Sensitive and caring Sugu, Needy Reader and Needy Suguru, Missionary, Cowgirl, Dripping Titties, Got Milk??, Threats of violence sorta, Domestic Suguru

WC: 5.6k

Divider Cred: @hitobaby

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Positive?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Baby…”

“Suguru, I promise. I’m sure. I’m ready. Besides, the doctor said we could…” You loop your arms around his neck, watching worry etched across his face slowly begin to fade. “I’ll let you know if I need to stop.”

The deep frown lines between his brows disappear, expression softening as he peers down at you. Since you’d returned from your most recent appointment, Suguru had been on edge, tenser than ever. But that’s been his baseline mood for the last nine months anyway. Though, today was worse than others.

Suguru knew this moment was coming and on a normal day, he’d be looking forward to it. He’d be jumping for joy at the prospect of having you. However, all he can think about is how terrible he’ll feel if he ends up hurting you. He runs one hand gently along your thigh in soothing motions, and he’s not really sure if the act is to ease your mind or his.

You’ve been beaming, going on about doing this from the moment you’d left the doctor’s office, all smiles and eager eyes. Suguru told himself he’d resist, give you more time even as you chirped an excited “I can’t fucking wait!” in the car.

But as Suguru stares down at you, all soft and beautiful lying in bed in your cute little silk nightdress, he knows he’ll give in to you no matter what. He’s weak for you. Always has been. It’s why he couldn’t let you go when he’d left jujutsu society. It’s why he took the risk of trying to win you back.

And it’s easy to give you everything you want and more when you gaze up at him with those pretty eyes of yours. He really should have known from the moment he settled his hips between your legs that all you had to do was ask and he would be yours. It’s always been that way when it comes to you.

Suguru brings his face down to yours, runs the tip of his nose along the bridge of yours and like a reflex, you tilt your chin up to meet him. He watches your eyes flutter closed, lips pursed with anticipation. And just before your mouths collide, he stops.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” He asks again, slight panic in his voice.

He’s certain he doesn’t sound like himself. He’s full of nerves, voice trembling the closer you get. But you roll your eyes playfully with a giggle and it calms him just a bit. “Suguru, just kiss me,” you whisper against his mouth. 

His lips meet yours hesitantly. His kisses are careful. Tender, like he’s afraid he’ll break you if he devours your lips the way he truly desires.

His hand squeezes your plush thigh and a soft whimper falls from his mouth and into yours. When you moan back into him, the sound sends tingles up his spine, making his legs shake ever so slightly. It’s been some time since you’ve made noises like that, and it does something to him. That, and the combination of your little makeout session currently happening. Suguru is struggling to keep it together. You’ve barely been kissing and he’s trying to resist pressing his hips roughly into yours. He so desperately wants you.

See– Suguru has been waiting months to be able to touch you like this again. To have you like this again. Nine long months actually.

Six weeks ago, you’d given birth to your son, the perfect blend of you and him. 

Your pregnancy had been unexpected and if Suguru’s math was right, he’s pretty sure it happened the night he’d crawled through your dorm window at the school and begged you to leave with him. It’s been almost a year since you’d abandoned all of your beliefs and hopes to fully stand alongside him as a curse user. 

After not being able to touch you for so long, just when he’d finally gotten you back, he found himself right back at square one.

But, the payoff was worth the wait. 

Not long after your defection, you’d come to Suguru in the early hours before he was to meet with the monkeys lined up outside the monastery. Your eyes were rimmed red, evidence of your tears as you stood before him. You looked ill, and you had been for some days. This had Suguru worrying. You’d been having such a hard time coping with the choice you’d made already. 

And it likely didn’t help that Yaga ripped you a new one days after your defection had become clear. Satoru had given you hell via text, promising to end you both if he saw either of you again. 

But Suguru could not have gave less of a fuck about his ex friend’s empty threats. He did, however, care about how much it affected you. It only took a few weeks for your health to decline, for you to be sick and in bed most of the day. Suguru truly believed this to be depression settling in for you. The same had happened for him. He couldn’t help but be concerned.

On the days you felt well enough to be out, you opted to be without him. And because old habits die hard, Suguru had of course had curses following you in the shadows. If you noticed, you didn’t say anything. Which was even more worrisome to him.

Where was the fiery attitude he so loved about you? Where was the woman who gave him absolute hell if he overstepped?You were nowhere to be found.

His mind began eating away at him as he tried to find reasons for your sudden change. Perhaps you had decided to return to the school and  leave him behind again? Maybe you were beginning to regret your choice… Regret him?

Well, that would just be unacceptable. Suguru could not imagine what he would do if this were the case. He’d already risked everything to have you again. To beg you to leave with him and give up all you’d known to join him in his fight. It still took convincing even after you’d joined his cause. Now you may be entertaining the idea of leaving again?

Suguru lost his mind the first time he thought he lost you.

This time, he thinks he would destroy everything and everyone in his path if he lost you again.

Luckily for him, and everyone else, all of his worries melted away when you took his hand in yours, squeezing gently and told him the news. “I know this wasn’t the plan, Suguru. I know we were going to move forward with…” you paused, choosing your words carefully, because you never knew who could be listening. “Celebrating Christmas Eve.”

He knew what you were referring to, of course.

“I don’t care about any of that.” Because he didn’t. Even as his heart roared in his ears, all he could think about was the gift you were giving him; the blessing that was now going to be coming.

A child – His child. With you. The perfect heir to his legacy.

But pregnancy had not been good to you and you spent a good majority of it uncomfortable and sick. And so, Suguru had been reluctant to initiate intimacy with you. Not because he didn’t find you attractive anymore. It was truly the opposite. In fact, Suguru found you so incredibly enticing during your pregnancy that he was afraid he’d hurt you if you became intimate. He feared he would not be able to fight his urges to fuck you through the bed if he had you.

Seeing you all round and soft? It had his dick aching. He found himself showering three, sometimes four times a day, fisting his cock as he imagined all the ways he wanted to have you. It was embarrassing, the way his body reacted to the simple sight of you. So, he had to find some sort of outlet. You were already struggling so much with your pregnancy. He couldn’t add onto that, be the reason you had more discomfort than you were already dealing with.

Now, you’re six months postpartum and you’ve been an absolute angel. You’re glowing, the epitome of beauty, ethereal almost. Motherhood has only made Suguru fall even more in love with you. 

The doctor has finally given you the green light to be intimate again. Though, with a warning to be careful as the risk of becoming pregnant again is incredibly high right now. Somehow, the thought makes Suguru even harder if possible. Some sick part of him wants to bury himself as deep as possible. Breed you again and again. Pump you full of his seed and have you round with him as many times as he can. 

A tiny groan escapes Suguru as he deepens the kiss, lips slotting sloppily against yours. Every moan he pulls from you is making it more and more difficult for him to resist pressing his hips against yours, strip you of this flimsy little fabric and make love to you until you can only think of him. The same way he only thinks of you. His hand glides up your smooth thigh, slipping beneath your gown and up to your waist. 

He finally breaks the kiss, and the gentleness does not make a bit of difference because you’re both left gasping for air between each other. Suguru’s eyes roam down your body ravenously, every new dip and curve gifted to you by your newfound motherhood so goddamn enticing. Even moreso, when he feels it…or doesn’t feel it, rather.

“You’re not wearing panties,” he mumbles, more as an observation than a question. He pulls his hand from beneath your dress to glide over the smooth material of your silky gown along your stomach, up to the valley of your breasts.

You shake your head, a cheeky grin spreading along your face. “Didn’t think I’d need them.”

Suguru hums, hooking a finger into the cup of your gown and tugging down. He watches with heated desire as your supple breast falls free from its confines. So round and full. He can’t help but run his tongue along his lips.

“Did you pump before bed?” He asks. He cups your breast gently in his palm, biting down on his bottom lip when you sigh a soft no, followed by a quiet gasp. Suguru clicks his tongue, delicately squeezing the tender flesh and honing in on the small pearlescent bead of liquid that forms at the tip of your pert nipple. His heated gaze watches as your eyes fall shut, back arching as you press your breast further into his touch.

Suguru has watched you pump many times. Watched you breastfeed and has always wondered about this–what it tastes like. It’s not as though he’s picky when it comes to ingesting things. He’s a curse eater, after all. He’s sure your breast milk tastes heavenly. Everything he’s tasted from you has never been anything but delectable. But this…this is new. This is something he’s never had from you. But he will soon.

He must have every part of you.

“You okay?” Suguru asks, gaze locked on the warm liquid cascading down your breast. He meets your gaze and because you know him so well, you nod almost immediately. He dips down to wrap his lips around your hardened bud, pulling another sigh from you, a little louder this time. 

The rush of liquid filling his mouth surprises him at first, only for a second. Then he takes his time to taste you. Your milk is rich. Sweet. Buttery. But there’s an aftertaste there that’s so incredibly intoxicating, it has Suguru’s eyes rolling straight to the back of his head. It shocks him, the way this taste travels straight to his cock, and has him painfully erect to the point that he lets out a garbled moan against your breast. 

It only takes him a few seconds, after more than a decade of knowing you, training with you, fighting beside you that he realizes this taste is your cursed energy. And it has his dick is pulsing between his legs.

‘How delightful’, he thinks. To fully have you like this. To be able to literally taste the essence of your being. To consume what makes you superior to all others in this world. 

What makes you powerful. 

What makes you a sorcerer.

The thought alone makes him want to fucking cum in his pants right this second.

But he can’t. He needs to reel it in. At least, long enough to please you. He takes a deep breath, swallows what’s in his mouth. And just in time, because you roll your hips up into his and he has to pull back with a quiet hiss. The heat of your core meeting his clothed erection has his legs quivering already. It’s pathetic. 

He peers down at you, strands of hair stuck messily to his wet cheeks. Under the soft moonlight peeking in through your bedroom windows, he can just make out the way your chest heaves with shaky breaths, the slight parting of your lips as you stare lustfully up at him. His gaze trails down to your other breast, now soaking through your gown, your milk having leaked while he was giving all his attention to your other breast.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Suguru whispers sweetly, hooking his finger into the other cup and pulling it down. “I spent so much time on one, I forgot the other.”

His hand cups your soaked breast, a thumb brushing gently over your erect nipple and you gasp again.

“Sugu…” you whine, hands coming up to grab hold of his shoulders.

“You okay?”

“Mhmm,” is all you can manage, eyes fluttering closed as he tweaks your nipple between his thumb and index finger. “Sensitive.”

Suguru hums, slowly brushing his thumb over your nipple again, groaning when he elicits the same reaction from you.

‘So responsive’, he thinks. You’ve always been, but it seems you’re increasingly so today.

When Suguru slides his wet tongue over your nipple just before taking the peak into his mouth, you squeeze down on his shoulders, a choked sob falling from your lips.

“Oh, I love that sound you make,” Suguru breathes against your breast. He drinks greedily from you, savoring every little tingle the taste of your cursed energy sends up his spine, every little mewl you let out. He’s sure his skin is covered with goosebumps.

This must feel like sweet relief for you. Your body melts into his as he mouths at you, slurps you up, devours you and all you have to offer. 

You’re delicious.

And Suguru means that literally.

When your hands tangle in his hair and pull him up from your nipple with a loud pop, it’s only then that he realizes he’s been so focused on your breasts that he damn near forgot about you.

Panting, he stares down at you. He’s certain he looks all kinds of disheveled – lips swollen and glistening, chin dripping, eyes glazed over.

And you, you only stare back at him lovingly – eyes full of arousal, hungry and wanting, lip swollen from biting down on it in attempts to stifle your moans. You bring a hand up to his face, cupping his cheek gently. You swipe your thumb along his chin, collecting whatever liquid resides there. It’s sweet, cute that you’re wanting to clean him up. But then you press your thumb to his lips, your mouth falling open as you slide the digit past the threshold until you reach his tongue. You peer up at him expectantly. So Suguru wraps his lips around your thumb and greedily sucks the remaining drops of your milk from your thumb.

Your other hand wraps around him, fingers delicately tracing a line up and down his back and Suguru releases a muffled groan. 

“I want you,” you whisper and you grind your hips into his again. He can feel your arousal through the fabric of his boxers. He can’t even stop his own hips from rutting desperately into yours and you whine softly, “Please.”

He can hear the desire in your voice. It shoots straight to his dick and the throb that follows has Suguru wincing.

There you are. There’s his girl. So fucking needy for him like you’ve always been. He loves it when you get like this. And it’s been so long since you’ve begged for him that he has to resist yanking his pants down and sliding right into your dripping cunt.

He’s so hard for you, wants to fuck you until you can’t stand. But he has to remember, you may not be ready for that. He needs to be careful with you, take his time so as to not hurt you.

“You sure?” He asks, just one more time. For his own peace of mind.

You fix him with a deadpan look, much like the one you gave him the night he’d climbed through your window and threatened to splatter your little boyfriend’s insides along the streets of Tokyo.

“Okay,” he acquiesces, a small smirk playing on his lips. He loves your little attitude.

He’ll take his time with you, let you get used to this again because god knows he’s gonna need a second or else he’ll be losing himself to you in no time. He dips his head down, lips finding your neck and pressing soft kisses before he lightly sucks at your skin, making quick work of leaving a mark.

In the morning, when you’re getting ready for the day, he knows he’ll receive your wrath and it will have been worth it. Suguru loves to mark you up, though it pisses you off. He only cares that it signifies to everyone that lays eyes on you that you belong to him and him alone.

His possessiveness takes over, makes him bite down on the already tender spot on your neck and you cry out, which only makes Suguru moan against you.

“Sorry,” he mutters as he nuzzles against your throat, nipping and sucking lightly as he goes.

“More,” you whimper, and your fingers trace down his bare chest, along his abdomen until they reach the waistband of his boxers. You slip your hand inside, finding his cock with ease and wrapping your hand around him.

The sensation makes Suguru buck into your fist, a weak cry falling from his lips as he thrusts himself into your hand.

“Baby…” he whines into your neck. “Fuck, wait–”

But you don’t listen. You pump his cock, matching his rhythm as you throw your head back with a soft moan.

Suguru slips a hand between the two of you, cupping your pussy and groaning when he feels how soaked you are. It’s probably for the best that you ditched your panties tonight. He runs a finger through your folds, finding your clit and massaging circles around the sensitive nub teasingly.

You’re writhing beneath him, keening quietly into the air as you stroke his cock and let Suguru mark your skin as he pleases. He’s moved onto your chest now, lips back on your nipples and he suckles any drop of milk he can get from you.

The sounds coming from you are driving him insane. The sounds coming from him are almost foreign. He’s never heard himself sound like this before, so desperate, so needing, so fucking in love with you. He wants more, wants to hear more, wants to feel more.

He breaks free of your breasts and crushes his lips against yours. When you gasp in surprise, he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth while simultaneously slipping a finger easily inside of you. Your movements pause, a sharp intake of breath making Suguru pull back.

“You okay?” He asks, panic clear in his voice. “We can stop.”

You shake your head quickly. “No! No, I’m fine. It’s just…” You begin pumping him again, smirking when you see the way Suguru’s jaw clenches, how his hips stutter slightly. “It’s been awhile. Keep going.”

Suguru is a little hesitant. This is exactly what he was worried about. He knew you weren’t ready. He should stop –

His thoughts are interrupted when you squeeze the head of his cock, his precum adding enough lubrication to make the sensation dizzying for him. He has to catch himself on his free arm.

“Goddamn,” he grits, pulling his finger back just slightly before burying it knuckle deep inside you again. “Fuuuucking stroke my cock.”

You have your fist tightly wrapped around his length, twisting and pumping him just the way he likes. Like you haven’t missed a beat. You gaze up at him, all flushed cheeks and eyes glazed over in bliss as Suguru slips one more finger into you.

“Like this?” You ask innocently and Suguru leans down to press a wet, sloppy kiss to your lips.

“Just like that,” he pants against your lips. “You’re s– ah – so good at that. Good fucking girl, ” he praises.

It goes on like this for some time, you and Suguru getting each other off. He feels as though his nerves are on fire, skin prickling as the pleasure begins to take over. He wants to cum so fucking bad. Wants to coat your little hand in his load and have you use it to keep jacking him off. But nothing is getting him off more than the idea of being inside of you right now. Though, he knows he’ll have to take it slow.

“I need to fuck you now,” he grunts roughly. “Need you so bad.”

He pulls his fingers from your core, chucking low when you whine at the loss. He reaches down to his waistband and you let go of him as he pushes his boxers down, working them off until he can kick them across the floor.

“You ready for me?” He asks, kissing you messily again. He settles between your legs, brows knitting when your bare cores finally meet. It’s so hot. Literally, he can feel the heat radiating from your pussy and the anticipation of your answer is killing him. You’re already drenched, coating him with your slick arousal. He wants to be inside of you. Please don’t deny him.

“I’m ready, baby.” You reach down between your bodies and take him in your hand again, position his tip at your entrance. “Please fuck me.”

He nods. Your eyes are locked as Suguru eases forward. It’s a tight fit, and Suguru doesn’t know if he’ll even be able to get all the way in without blowing his load.

“Oh god,” he groans. “Fucking tight as shit, baby. Fuck.”

He keeps going, pushing in and parting your walls with difficulty even though your core drips for him. It's as if you've gotten even tighter since giving birth. Suguru has to pull back slightly several times and try again before he’s all the way in. He has his eyes squeezed shut, fists clenching the sheets tightly. 

You whimper beneath him, hands having now found Suguru’s biceps and gripping on for dear life. It’s a slow, delicious, painfully snug journey through your walls. And when he finally bottoms out, he takes time to look at you. You’re biting your lip, breaths coming rapidly as you grasp onto him.

You’re so fucking beautiful like this.

He's embarrassingly hard. He wonders if you can feel it. He thinks you can, from the way you squirm beneath him.

“Good?” He asks, checking in again and you roll your eyes.

“Yes. Now fuck me.”

Suguru rears his hips back, watching as your lips part with a quiet gasp just before he rolls his hips forward. He does it again, just so he can hear you make that sound one more time. Then he does it again and again.

His movements are slow, careful. He gives you soft and languid thrusts that have you digging your nails into his arms, has him gritting his teeth so he doesn’t cum. He can hear and feel how absolutely wet you are with each agonizingly slow thrust. 

It’s driving him insane to be so gentle. He wants to fuck you so bad, destroy your little pussy, bury himself so deeply inside of you he can’t fucking see straight.

And it’s like you know this, because you whisper his name. When he looks at you, you’ve got a cute little pout on your lips, glaring up at him. He tilts his head questioningly.

“Suguru, stop treating me like you're gonna break me…” You loop an arm around his neck, pulling him down into a rough, sloppy kiss before pulling back just slightly to tell him, “...fuck me like you mean it.”

And he does. Doesn’t need you to ask twice. With a deep groan, Suguru pulls his hips back, all the way until just his tip sits inside of you. Then he thrusts forward, plunging into you over and over.

Each snap of Suguru’s hips brings a new sound from you. It’s music to his ears – this mix of your mewls, his grunts and moans, his balls slapping against your sopping cunt. He’s losing himself in you, the way he always does, swallowed by your warmth.

“Ah…I- I’ve been waiting so long for this, beautiful. Been craving this - ngh - pussy for months,” Suguru rasps, dipping his head down to find your breasts. He can already see the bruises forming along your skin from where he marked you earlier and it has him choking out a soft sob. He pounds into you hard, fast, chasing his high as he watches your breasts bounce with each thrust. “Missed your pretty little cunt. Missed fucking you so bad, baby.”

He licks a long strip between the valley of your breasts, eyes rolling to the back of his head and hips stuttering when he tastes the remnants of your breast milk from earlier. 

“Yeah, babe?” You ask, pressing your hands against his chest.

You move your hips against his, meeting every thrust eagerly and Suguru inhales sharply. “Fuck yeah,” he murmurs, kissing his way up to your lips. Just before he meets your mouth, you push against him and shift your weight, effectively rolling you both over so that you’re not straddling Suguru. His hands find your waist immediately.

“I missed you. So fucking much. Couldn’t wait to have you again,” you sigh as you lean down to kiss your lover. Your hips begin to move, grinding yourself down on Suguru. His back arches, the feeling of him tapping against that spongey in your walls completely overwhelming him.

“Shit.” Suguru watches you move your hips against him, feels his dick twitch within your walls at the sight. “Feel good, baby?” He asks. Because it damn sure feels good to him. Suguru thinks he may lose his mind just watching. You sit up and his eyes follow you, watching the way your kiss swollen lips part as you let out another moan when he thrusts up into you.

You can’t do anything but nod your head, your hands falling to Suguru’s chest to keep your balance as you bounce on his cock. His gaze drinks in all the dips and curves of your body until they find where you two connect. He watches as you roll your hips forward, as his cock disappears into your pussy over and over. A quiet moan rushes past your lips and Suguru’s hands find your ass while you grind down on him. You’re so wet, he can feel your arousal dripping down his cock, drenching his balls.

“Oh my god, Suguru,” you cry out quietly, halting your movements to lean down and crash your lips into his again. “Feels good, feels so fucking good,” you gasp between kisses. Suguru pushes against your ass, prompting you to keep going.

“Don’t stop, baby. Fuck me like you mean it,” he repeats your earlier words, a sly grin on his lips when he smacks your ass, making you yelp.

You sit up, lifting your hips all the way up until just the tip of his cock sits inside you. Suguru’s eyes are glued to the view and he can visibly see himself pulsing between your legs. He lets out a low hiss that quickly turns into a loud groan when you slam your hips back down on him.

“Shhhh,” you shush him. “Gonna wake up the whole compound.”

He grips your ass tighter. “I don’t give a fuck. Let them hear us.” He gives you a particularly harsh thrust that has you keening loudly. He thrusts again and you let out another sharp cry. “Want them to hear me fucking the mother of my child, fucking my whole heart tonight.”

The air is filled only with the sounds of the wet slap of your hips meeting, your soft gasps and moans, the bed creaking with every hard thrust he gives you. Suguru’s eyes roll back, each pump of his cock in your pretty little cunt bringing him closer and closer to the edge. Your walls are so tight, so wet, so hot, squeezing the life out of him. 

“Tell me you love me. Tell me you love my cock, baby. Tell me you missed fucking me as much as I missed fucking you.”

Your nails dig into his chest as you cry out his name, tell him all about how you craved his dick, wanted him so badly it drove you crazy some days. The feeling of his tip pressing against your most sensitive area with each pump lighting a fire in both your cores.

“Fuck, baby,” Suguru gasps, voice hoarse with arousal as he stares up at you with nothing but love in his gaze. “So sexy. Look at you. Riding my cock so good – fuck.”

“Suguru,” You gasp as he holds your hips, keeping you in place as he fucks up into you pace increasing. “I’m…I’m gonna cum, Suguru. Fuck. I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum on my dick, baby. I wanna feel it. I need to feel it,” he grunts, driving into you. He feels his balls tighten, his release approaching quickly. He tries to stave it off, but then he feels it. Feels warm droplets of liquid hitting his chest and his stomach. He follows the trail, eyes landing on your breasts and the droplets falling from your pert nipples and onto him.

The sight is so erotic, so goddamn sexy, it sends chills racing up Suguru’s spine. You, taking his dick so fucking well, your breasts coating him in your essence, the very essence he got the luxury to taste early and god, did it taste incredible. Your mouth slack and eyes pinched shut as you dissolve into pleasure on top of him.

One more drop hitting his skin.

Your walls squeezing him for all his worth.

Your mouth crying his name.

It’s enough for him to shatter beneath you, enough to trigger that first rope of cum shooting from his cock. 

“Shit, oh– oh fuck, baby, I’m cumming,” Suguru sputters, holding your hips painfully tight and with one last powerful thrust, he shoves himself as far as he can go before emptying himself inside of you. His muscles tense, breathe hitching as he rides out the shockwaves of his release. Every pulse of his cock is met with your walls sucking him back in, milking every drop from him.

He thinks he’s seeing fucking stars, the muffled sound of your moans drowned out by the pure euphoria he’s experiencing right now. He doesn’t even notice that excess of cum that leaks from your core and onto his groin. He feels that damn good.

Suguru’s head falls back on the bed and his grip on you loosens, leaving you to lay your weight down on him. Both your breaths come rapidly, your matching heartbeats racing against each other’s chests. And this is Suguru’s favorite part of it all. He loves this, loves the feeling of you pressed into him, loves the feeling of you completing him. 

His eyes drift shut, his fingers tracing a line up and down your spine. And for the first time in almost a year, he lets himself fully relax.

- - - - - - -

The warm beams of the early morning sun peek through the bedroom. Suguru shifts, turning onto his side to get more comfortable.

Until he realizes something is missing. His eyes shoot open and he sits up quickly in the bed, eyes roaming the room for you. When he finds no trace of you in the room, he decides it’s time for him to get up, too.

You’re likely up with the baby and he wants to help you with his morning routine.

He makes his way across the room to your master bathroom and when he opens the door, he’s met with a cloud of hot steam and the sight of you naked in front of the mirror. You’re scowling, craning your head to the side like you’re looking at something.

He sees it the moment your hand reaches up and touches your neck and your chest. You’re riddled with hickeys and bruises, marks covering almost your entire upper body. Your eyes meet his in the mirror, a murderous glare staring at him in your reflection.

And it’s not like Suguru is particularly sorry. He wants you to be all marked up and claimed so everyone knows you’re his. But that look in your eye tells him he really may be in danger here.

Luckily for him, the shrill cry of his son pierces through the tension. So he shoots you a smug grin and backs right out the door.

ORGULLOSA DE SER ARGENTINA Y DECIR JARRY

que hermoso q es cuando hacen un one shot y podes verte reflejada en yn 🥺❤️ gracias uma

AT LEAST I'M TRYING

THIS... THIS IS FOR ALL MY ARGENTINIAN BESTIES. THIS IS HARRY MAKING AND TASTING HIS OWN MATE. FOR OBVIOUS REASONS THIS IS LATINA!READER.

HARRY'S MASTERLIST | click here if you don't know what a mate is.

━━━━━━━

When Y/N wakes up from a good nap on the couch, she didn't expect to hear those murmurs from the kitchen.

"How the fuck…– Christ, this looks like fucking soup."

She stands up, running a hand over her face while whispering "como me jode que me despierten de la siesta." how it annoys me to be woken up from my nap. And she enters the kitchen, seeing her boyfriend from behind.

"H?"

Harry turns around scared. "Baby, I woke you up, sorry."

She moves closer to him. "No pasa nada." It's nothing. She tries to see what's behind him, but he hides it. "What are you hiding, mhm?"

The British was about to reply, but a voice on his phone gave him away. "Y así es como tienen su mate perfecto." and this is how you'll have your perfect mate.

Y/N dodged Harry and saw his phone on the counter, with a video tutorial on how to make a mate, and next to it, his mate that actually looked like soup. "Harry..."

He looked at her flushed, loving the overpronunciation on the H that made his name sound different. "Wanted to surprise yeh. Shit, m'sorry."

The Argentine laughs, feeling her heart beating wildly in her chest, and approaches her boyfriend to hug him by the neck and look him in the eyes.

"Que lindo que sos." you're so cute.

"Is that good or bad?"

She just kisses him with a smile on her face and that seems to put Harry at ease. When they part, she grabs his hand to drag him to the counter, pause the video and grab the mate.

"I'm gonna teach you how to make a good mate, okay?"

He nods, and pays close attention to his girl. He listens as she explains how to put the maté in, how much, how to arrange the straw, everything.

"And the sugar depends on your taste, there are people who like it bitter." Y/N finishes, looking at him. "And I'm a faithful believer that you like your mate bitter."

"Yeah? and why's that?" Harry asks, as he prepares to make his own.

"Just make the mate, will you?"

He laughs, trying to disguise his nerves, and begins pouring the yerba into the wooden cup. He repeats the directions the girl gave him minutes ago, and when he finishes, he looks somewhat satisfied.

"It looks good." Y/N murmurs, and starts pouring hot water slowly into the mate.

When she tastes it, her face says nothing, but Harry knows it's not bad. "Let's see... it needs a lot of practice, and I think if my family tasted this, they'd kill you. But it's good, baby."

Harry smiles with his mouth open. "Really?"

"Posta." For real. She replies, sipping on her mate. "Try it."

He tastes it and lets out a hum, it's good, you can taste the maté, but Y/N's right, it'd be better if it was bitter. He can't help the laughter that comes out of his chest, he thought it would be a catastrophe, but he's made his love proud of him. And that was everything.

when is harry going to do the world a favor and cover sex on fire

Every 7 seconds for the last million years

yo

english me and spanish me are two different people

its just so good

Our little love part 2 - mafia/yandere au Drabble {angst + fluff}

As always please let me know what you think, I am actually going to go to bed now my brain is angry with me for not sleeping.

It seemed the cycle was never ending, you fucking up and pissing them off, them punishing you by drowning you in their love, only letting you come up to breathe so you could swim in your own guilt and submit to them.

You wince as the victim to your latest fuck up gets another blow to his chest. Taehyung and Hobi held onto his arms as Jungkook and Jimin kick and punch the poor individual. You know not to speak, it’ll only make things worse. Temperament was a fickle thing in their lives, trust was everything, and you still had to build yours up again.

“Y/n help please,” Kai whimpers as you stood with your arms crossed looking away.

“Don’t fucking say her name,” Jungkook growled before punching your ex colleague in the face. You’re frowning, the need to beg them to stop was fighting for exit on the top of your tongue, but you bite it down and pray Kai doesn’t say another word. You know if you do as he asks they’d kill him. Your punishment was to watch silently.

Yoongi strolls up behind you, hands in his pockets before he rests his head on your shoulder, watching the display in front of you both.

“Nothing to say little love?” He whispers as your friend groans out in pain.

Please don’t kill him, you want to say, but you just shake your head in defeat. You want to believe they’re better than this, but the evidence of the contrary was never hidden from you. They showed you every side of them whether proud of it or not with bold eyes daring you to stop loving them, pushing your boundaries and morals waiting for you to snap. But the breaking point never came, you loved them, you shouldn’t and you knew it, but you did. You were completely and utterly theirs, yet still they treated you like you hadn’t seen the worst of them. Like you would run away the second you realised they were monsters, not that they would let you run far, only far enough to let you take a single breath before making you drown in them once again.

Yoongi wraps his arms around your waist, keeping an eye on your reactions. The asshole deserved it, not that they cared either way, he tried to take you away from them, that was enough.

Kai was your old partner before you took a very early retirement, what you didn’t know was that he continued the case you were working on before you left; the case of the seven men you now loved and the reason you quit said job. He had called you to meet up for old times sake and you, very naively in Yoongi’s mind, decided it was harmless. But if it was harmless why didn’t you say anything to the boys? You thought Kai didn’t know the reason you handed in your resignation, but he had been keeping an eye on you all before he realised you were the key to their downfall. He knew you harboured some feeling for him in the past and thought you’d reciprocate when he tried to flirt his way into getting his hands on the evidence you collected, he didnt know you burned it all. You lied to him and said you lost it, same difference anyway. This prompted plan b from him.

“Y/n they’re criminals,” he had said to you. “You’re a cop at heart you can’t love them.”

You floundered at his words when you realised he knew, and yet he still asked you to betray them.

“Kai I think I need to go...”

It was a mistake, you knew it then, but he followed you out onto the street and you hoped tonight the men you loved weren’t keeping an eye on you. Maybe naive was an understatement.

“Are they coercing you Y/n! Do they have something on you or are they threatening you?” He calls after you. “Because the Y/n I know would never love killers, what have they done to you?”

It was when he reached his hand out to grab your arm that your boyfriends decided to show themselves from the shadows. Which lead to the situation now, Kai beat up and bruised beyond recognition, and you forced to watch. He falls unconscious and they let him drop to the floor, you hate this side of them, it was cruel and cold but you’d never leave. They turn to face you now, their anger still present despite the last hour of releasing it onto your old partner. They don’t miss the way you’re shaking, the shallow breaths as you try and keep your tears to yourself. As much as you hate their violence, you hate their disappointment in you more.

——————————————————————————

You’re sitting in Joonie’s lap for what you call the debriefing of your punishment, this happened way too often in your opinion. You look down but he wasn’t having it today, tilting your head to look at him by your chin.

“Why did you get punished today little love?” He starts the same way as usual.

“I went out without telling you guys where I was going or who with,” you say while fiddling with your fingers out of nervous habit.

“And?” Hobi sits across from you in a chair, legs straddling the back and an elbow rested on top with his fist holding up his face. Hobi was hardest to pacify, he was ruthless and unforgiving and while that didn’t extend to you, you still had a hard time with his stubborn anger.

“I met up with Kai, and I let him touch me,” you’ve done this too many times before to not know how it worked. Kai’s ‘touch’ obviously meant nothing to you but for them it was the worst crime anyone could commit against their little love.

You remember the time you nearly tripped in the park and a guy steadied you politely, but you still had to hold Jungkook back from throwing hands.

“Kookie would you rather I fell and hurt myself?” No he hadn’t wanted that so he grumbled in agreement still seething but you cooled it down. “Instead of hitting him maybe you should thank him,” it was a joke but it made the youngest scoff.

“Baby girl why can’t you just be good?” Namjoon’s sigh brings you back to the present. “Why do you always have to test us like this?”

You didn’t mean to, you want to say it but the words are stuck below the sob in your throat. You actually whimper as his tone, bottom lip wobbling pathetically. He hadn’t even told you off properly, but you already felt like a mess as he bathed you in his disappointment. That was the common consequence of your actions and you hated it, you couldn’t do anything right.

——————————————————————————

“Jin do you need help with the food?” You ask your eldest boyfriend politely, he was frowning and you thought it was because today’s meal was too much for him to handle alone, his tone of voice made you realise it was because of you.

“No, I’m alright,” he doesn’t look at you as he speaks and you’re left gaping at him like a fish. Jin loved it when you cooked with him, it was your bonding time without the others, although Yoongi would join you from time to time. The others also tried but Jin wouldn’t let them anywhere near the kitchen, they hogged you enough anyway.

You feel your soul deflate, still standing there as he ignored you.

“Are you mad at me too?”

The way you said it made his heart twinge with guilt, but the others were right you wouldn’t learn and your first betrayal was still fresh on their minds. He sighs and you turn away, refusing to crying in front of them for the tenth time that day. What was wrong with you? Ever since that day where they found out who you really were you felt like you werent enough anymore, you tried so hard to make up for it all but you kept messing up. You weren’t like this before, but after seeing the hurt you put them through you were constantly on edge and second guessing yourself. You wish you could go back and stop them from ever finding out.

Jin hears the sniffle as you walk away and he can’t go through with it.

“Wait little love,” he calls for you. “I forgot to cut the onions, would you mind?”

You shake your head, you didn’t mind, but you didn’t trust your voice to answer for you. Youre grateful to Jin for giving you this task, it hides the fact you’re crying, but you know he doesn’t miss it.

——————————————————————————

Jimin and Taehyung were giving you narrowed stern gazes through dinner, it put you off your food which resulted in getting told off by Jin just after he branched out to you in the kitchen.

You felt alone, like the seven men you loved were against you and there was no one to blame but yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly before getting up and removing yourself from the dinner table and dining room, ignoring all of their stares. You decide maybe an early night is best, you could start again fresh tomorrow. You don’t get too far up the stairs before a hand pulls you back, you turn to see Jimin with Tae a few steps behind him.

You’re so used to seeing them laugh and play around that it feels like you’re looking at different people. Even during missions or gun fights, the youngest three were always joking their way through the bloodshed, keeping scores of who got the most headshots and other grotesque games. You remember the time Jimin and Tae called you during he middle of a shoot out, arguing with you and each other over who you loved more out of the two while you begged them to not get shot or killed.

“Why did you go see him Y/n?” Jimin asked, he wore the demeanour he used for enemies and it takes you back to that night.

“I... h-he said he wanted to see me to catch up,” you explain but you know it’ll fall on deaf ears.

“And you thought that was a good idea, to see your old cop buddy?” His tone makes you feel stupid, you weren’t stupid.

“He was my friend Jimin,” you say in disbelief, you know in the end it was a mistake but at the time it didn’t seem like the worst idea in the world.

“You’re ours,” Taehyung moved forward, towering over you even though he’s a step below you. His face is close to your own, eyes burning into yours as he looks disgusted at the words that left your mouth as if they’re still attached to you. “How do you think we felt when you went to see another detective? Do you have any idea what was going through our heads?”

“Tae I love you,” you lean away from him, searching his face for a hint of softness and love in his gaze, but there was only fire. “You know I wouldn’t, you all know I wouldn’t, I left that life for you why would I turn back to it?”

He stalks away from you without a word, Jimin close behind, giving you a final cold glance before leaving you alone. You thought your love could make them better but if anything you made their darkness worse.

——————————————————————————

Jungkook needed to vent, the only way he knew how was physically. Obviously it wasn’t the cleverest thing he’s done, taking rounds with the punching bag only to open up the cuts on his hand from beating the bastard earlier. He mutters a few curse words under his breath, why did you make matters worse? Maybe they were being harsh on you before today, finding any excuse to punish you a little, test your boundaries and see if you would run, but today they honestly feared that was what happened. They thought you chose to leave them and go back to the life you had before them, but they’d never let you go, they couldn’t let you go. Despite everything you loved them and they worshipped the ground you walked on. You were everything for them now, there’s be no point to any of them without you. Why didn’t you understand that?

He throws another punch to the bag, spreading his blood across them, it hurt like hell, but the thought of you running back to your old partner still played on all of their minds. He wanted to cry, he wanted to find you and beg you to never leave them, they’d be nothing without you.

There’s a knock on the door and he finds you on the other side, waiting for permission to come in. You never waited for permission, it makes him frown, maybe they were too harsh on you today. He could see you shuffling your weight, insecurity screaming through your eyes, you feared his rejection more than his anger.

He notices the first aid kit in your hand, you must’ve heard him. He doesn’t let the fluttering in his chest reach his face as he sits on the bench, waiting for you to come to him.

His gaze is expectant, daring you to cross the threshold and face him, you were no coward, you didn’t fear them the way others did, why were you behaving so meekly now? You force yourself to move and sit beside him, setting the kit down and pushing your hair back behind your ears. He doesn’t move his gaze away from you, even with the sweat and hair hanging in front of his face.

You carefully take a his hand into yours, sucking air between your teeth at how injured it was.

“I’m sorry you hurt yourself because of me,” you say, eyes on his bloodied knuckle as you press the ointment against the open wounds. “Are you sure you want me to stay, I keep hurting you...”

You try to sound like you’re joking, that you’re okay and the hurt isn’t weighing you down with your doubts. He frowns, they really did take it too far. He sets down the cotton wool from your grasp, taking both of hands into his before kissing each finger delicately without letting you look away.

“You’re perfect little love,” Jungkook says, reassuring you with no question in his voice. “We’re the ones who don’t deserve you, we’re mean and cruel but we’re never letting you go.”

You remember how loving they were before that night, maybe while they accepted the truth at face value they could never really forgive you in their hearts. Maybe that’s why they were being like this, they didn’t love you the same way anymore.

“Do you love me?” You had to know, the doubt was eating you alive.

He looks at you as if you’re insane, maybe you are, you don’t know anymore.

“Little love, don’t you see how much we love you?” He asks sincerely. “We would do anything for that love even if it made you hate us, you belong with us, and no one is going to take you away.”

You could see the crazed look in his face grow as he spoke, you believed him, the honestly worn like a heart on a sleeve. But his answer bought a wave clarity to your hazed vision, you made them like this, you made them worse, you had to leave.

i want two boyfriends so i can dress them like twins for @sopekooks

SO GOOD

dior girl ✰ park jimin

Park Jimin is one of a kind. When he wants something, he gets it, no matter how hard it can be. He's not scared to get his hands dirty. If he had any morals, maybe he'd consider his obsession with you getting out of hands. But this man has absolutely no morals.

୨୧ pairing: designer!jimin x model/fem!reader

୨୧ genre: strangers to lovers, age gap (21 & 38), smut, slight angst

୨୧ word count: 8.1k

୨୧ warnings: unrealistic depiction of the fashion industry, alcohol consumption & mention of drugs use, manipulation & corruption, jimin isn't a good person (especially not to oc lol <3), violent sexual thoughts, jimin's a sadist (my fav headcannon :D), heavy dom/sub dynamics, hard dom!jimin, unprotected vaginal & anal sex, anal play (use of a buttplug), my new headcannon: jimin likes giving anal, dacryphilia, praising & degradation, oral sex (m), face fucking, aftercare ig because yes jimin's a sadist but he still has a heart.

a.n.: yup so idk if you guys were expecting that... but i did say none of the characters were ethical lmfao so 🤷🏻‍♀️ i really, really hope you like the first part, i've worked hard on it even though it's not super long. so please, reblog and tell me what you thought about it! <3 as always, don't like, don't read.

[dior girl moodboard] ["older" masterlist]

His studio is his sanctuary. It's the only place in the world he can spend hours in without even noticing the moon setting or the sun rising. In his studio it feels like the time doesn't exist or that it's just a futile detail that doesn't have much importance.

When he's creating a piece, nothing around him matters. The only things he's willing to give attention to are the placements of the needles on the fabric, the little lines that form the pattern of the clothing, and the way his scissors cut through the satin material of the dress he's designing.

He's thought about this design for so long and he finally got the opportunity to make it. He's thought about the colours of the dress and also of the seam, about the length of the hem and the sleeves, how deep the neckline should be and if lace would be suitable.

He doesn't even recall how many sketches he's made of the dress. At some point it was consuming his entire mind, this dress the only design he could draw and think of.

Now that he's finally creating it, he has the feeling that it's going to be the best piece he's ever made. He already sees everyone talking about it, saying how much of a genius Park Jimin is. It's going to be the design of the year — of the century.

He still misses something, though, and it might be the most important part of the design. He needs a model, the perfect body to wear his piece and present it to the fashion world.

It can't be anybody, it must be someone who's confident, who always has their head up and who radiates elegance and sports a unique beauty.

Jimin still hasn't found this person. He constantly searches for them, but never finds them or when he thinks that he has, he discovers flaws he cannot unseen.

All the Dior models are great, but not enough. They don't spark anything in Jimin when he watches them strode down the catwalk. He's checked upon the apprentices and the newer models the company has hired, but he saw no one extraordinary.

Until today.

He hears steps against the wooden floor of his studio, entering the place without knocking. "Ah, there he is!" A manly voice exclaims, Jimin immediately recognizes it as his friend's, Sungwoon. "I have someone to introduce you."

Jimin raises his gaze up from his working table and looks at Sungwoon who's accompanied by a beautiful, young woman. He's then suddenly interested, contrary to usual where he doesn't really care about the many girls Sungwoon brings, claiming each one as the new phenomenon of the fashion industry.

When Jimin turns around, he eyes you up and down, barely glimpsing in Sungwoon's way. It's all it takes, one simple glance and he knows you're the one he needs — the one he wants and has to ruin.

Sungwoon introduces you both and when your name is pronounced by the man, sounding so charming and delicate, he's certain you're the model he had been waiting for since a long time.

You seem shy, arms locked behind your back, but you stand up straight and have a polite smile drawn on your face.

"I thought maybe you'd like to get to know each other, right?" Sungwoon raises his eyebrows in Jimin's direction. "Everyone's fond of her," he smiles and pats your back, encouraging you to speak up.

"Thanks," you smile back at Sungwoon before glancing back at Jimin who still hasn't looked away from you. "I've been a big fan of your work since I was a little kid, Mr. Park. You've inspired me to become a model."

The way you say his name has his cock twitching in his pants, filthy thoughts of him spanking your butt while you cry his name invading his mind.

He can sense your vulnerability, your willingness to submit. Who would he be to deny you that? Him, who is so eager to dominate the ones he's attracted to, to break but also repair them.

He knows it when someone's fragile, hiding their weaknesses under fake confidence. He doesn't know you, but he recognizes the pattern almost instantly. What can be broken can also be repaired and you're asking him to break you.

"I'm glad to hear that," Jimin says politely, a slight smile tugging on his lips. He's not the type to smile — stretch the corner of his mouth upward to imitate the person in front of him, he finds it useless. But for you, he'll do it, just so you trust him because you're so desperate to give yourself to the opposite sex.

"Park, you were wondering who'd be part of the fall show this year," Sungwoon begins, looking at you like you're the most irradiant ruby in the world. "Well, you have her in front of you." You giggle softly at the man's words, nodding your head at him and then looking at Jimin as if waiting for some praises.

Jimin faintly smiles, seeing your eyes glimmering and he curses himself for not finding you first. You'd have been his by now, his to praise, to kiss, to fuck, to destroy. But he swears, if he happens to break you, he'll gratefully keep you safe close to him.

๑♡՞

T H E N

"Careful," Jimin softly says as he catches you up from falling on the floor. You let out a high pitched laugh, as if all of this is a big joke, and push him back with a hand on his chest.

"I'm fine," you answer, shrugging him off with a flip of your hand. You stagger from left to right, leaning against the wall when you almost fall a second time. You laugh it off again, halting your steps.

Jimin looks at you with a cringe expression, eyeing the people behind, sporting worried looks on their faces.

You all went out after the show; models, designers, directors, stylists... everyone. It wasn't your plan to get drunk, Jimin knows that because you're not supposed to drink alcohol since you're on a very strict diet. A glass from time to time isn't so bad, but your consumption clearly surpassed just one glass tonight.

It's not really your fault, though. Technically yes, since you're the one who swallowed all of the glasses of wine, but you had a little help.

A little help from Jimin himself.

When you weren't looking, he poured more alcohol in your glass and to his satisfaction you've noticed nothing and gulped everything. Sure, you got a bit suspicious, wondering how you had only drank so little when you remembered swallowing more than that.

But Jimin assured you it was only your first glass, so you drank, and drank, and drank... Until you were more than tipsy.

You've received nasty looks from your colleagues, especially the other models who weren't drinking a single drop of wine, and yet, still weren't awarded with the status of the 'face of Dior'. How ironic that the drunkest girl in the room was the face of Dior and the little protégée of Mr. Park.

Years and years of training, countless sleepless nights, meals that are as nutritious as birds seed... All of the efforts in the world to have your biggest dream stolen by a model who is in the industry for less than six months.

Their rage is understandable, but Jimin couldn't care less. In fact, everything is going as planned and he can't fuck things up now. No, because if he does, all of the things he has done until now will be completely irrelevant.

"I'll... I'll bring her to our room, you can go out without us," Jimin announces, watching you sit down on the floor in the middle of the corridor.

"Will she be okay?" A stylist asks.

"Of course. I'll take care of her."

He waits for everyone to be gone before he gets you up from the floor and leads you both to your hotel room. When you're in the room, he sits you down on the bed.

You don't say anything as he takes off his jacket and loosens his tie. He crouches down in front of you to remove your heels and he does the same with his shoes, leaving them at the entry.

When he comes back, he sees you quietly crying, the features of your face contorting into a sad expression. You've slightly sobered up, harshly coming back to reality, realizing how much you've embarrassed yourself tonight.

"What did I do?" You ask, looking up at him with teary eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

Jimin sits down beside you, lifting your head up with his index under your chin and his thumb over it. "There's nothing that can't be repaired," he states in a soft voice, so low it sounds like a sweet whisper — a secret, a confession only you can hear. "Right?"

You sniff, wiping your tears away. You nod your head in agreement, slightly reassured, hoping Jimin will fix your mistakes. Your foolish mistakes, done by the carefree of a twenty-one year old.

"Shh, baby, shh," he softly murmurs, cradling your head in his hands and gently laying your face against his chest. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tighter and tighter til suffocation.

He strokes your hair delicately, placing a sweet and warm kiss on the top of your head.

Someone as vulnerable as you contains a lot of emotions. He has to deal with them, which doesn't bother him at all. He wants you the way you are; sad and pitiful.

"Everything's going to be fine," he promises, but it's not entirely the truth. Not everything will be fine, though it'll be in the end, he thinks — he hopes.

You eventually pull away from his embrace, just enough to look at him. It seems like you're searching for something or maybe waiting for something, your eyes desperately staring at Jimin as if his simple presence will make all of your problems fly away.

You throw yourself at him and kiss him on the lips, fingers pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. He reciprocates it, knowing you like your kisses sloppy and messy, wanting Jimin everywhere on you to remind you that he's always there.

You bring him closer, crumpling the material of his white shirt between your fists, moaning and whining as your teeth clash together at how roughly you kiss each other.

Jimin breaks your exchange first, both catching your breaths. His eyes observe you quietly as you look at him like you're still waiting for something.

"Did you do what I told you to?" He questions you, referring to your conversation of a few days when you came to his studio to try on his dress.

You were a bit stressed out, putting on the clothing like you were scared you'd rip it. He still remembers the way the satin was sliding up your body, hugging your waist and ass perfectly. He was baffled at how incredibly well it suited you as if he had made it exactly for you.

And maybe it was made for you, after all.

Because when he saw his creation on you, he knew you had to wear it for the runway. It has to be you, he'll accept no one else.

Jimin will make you walk the runway wearing his dress — the last time you'll ever step on the catwalk. After that, he'll keep you away from the rest of the world. He'll refuse anyone to see you because you're going to be his.

His forever.

"Yes," you nod your head, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Tell me what you did," Jimin softly demands, holding your chin in his hand, mouths inches away from each other.

You're too shy to say it out loud and that's why he wants you to tell him. Also to be sure you did everything correctly, but mainly because he wants to see you embarrassed.

"I prepared myself for you..." You begin, holding eye contact even though you feel your face heating up just thinking about all the things you've done per his request. "I... I used lube both on me and... the toy," you continue in a shy tone, so low Jimin wouldn't hear you if he wasn't so close.

"Where on you, sweetheart?" He interrupts, wanting each detail, each little thing you normally wouldn't have done if it wasn't for him. And all while thinking of him.

You swallow, "On my ass, Jimin," you answer in a whisper. "I stretched it out for you, using the toy like you told me," you finally admit.

"Good girl," Jimin purrs. "Let me see it then."

You proceed to strip off of your dress, now used to be nude in front of him, and slide your panties down your thighs, discarding them away on the floor.

You get back up on the mattress and position yourself on all fours close to the edge of the bed. Jimin stands up and goes behind you to have a closer look at your ass.

His veiny hands pull your cheeks apart, revealing your rim to his insatiable, sadistic eyes. You glance over your shoulder, curious of what he has in mind and what he has prepared for you.

You softly gasp when he spits and lets the globe of spit drip down between your asscheeks, rolling over your puckered hole. You clench around nothing, relieved to have his attention, to finally feel his hands on you instead of the usual touch of yours.

He sees that your ass is a bit looser than the last time he saw it, but it still clearly needs more preparation to welcome his girthy cock — though it's not like he cares that much if you're prepped enough or not.

He passes his thumb over your tight muscle, circling it and smearing his saliva over it. He wants to fuck it so bad, destroy it and do unbelievably violent things to you. Should he tonight? Should he show you his dark and evil side?

He's choked you before — smacked your ass hard til you felt your skin stings, overstimulated you to the point your orgasms were just spasms passing through your body, fucked your throat while you were drooling all over yourself, and tied your legs and wrists together to restrict your movements.

So fucking your ass can't be that bad, but the thing is Jimin wants it to be bad. He then wonders what would happen if the line is ever crossed. Would you endure it, would you defend yourself? Would you shut the fuck up and take it like you're asked to?

But you trust him so much — with all your pathetic being — and he thinks you'd let him cross any lines he desires to. He probably already has crossed multiple lines, and being the poor, sad girl that you are, you said nothing.

You truly are extraordinary.

He gives a slight slap to one of your asscheeks, groping both of them after, feeling how soft and tender your flesh is. "You did good, sweetheart," he comments in a honeyed voice that has you mewling, sounding so smooth and sweet. "How about we play with it a little?"

He lifts up a brow at you and you nod sheepishly, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. "Yes..."

"Great," he says in a low tone, running his hands one last time over your ass before going to take something from his suitcase.

"What is it?" You question, your curious eyes landing on the small object he's holding.

Jimin brings the object to you, something made of metal, the end having the shape of a cone and a pink gem placed on the top. "A gift for my princess," he replies, opening the bottle of lube he brought as well.

He applies some lube around your tight hole and on the butt plug, and carefully pushes the head of the toy in your ass. You gasp softly, feeling it slowly stretch you out, sinking in gradually as Jimin holds your cheeks apart.

"Mmh, feels good, Sir," you moan, arching your back and pushing your butt closer to Jimin.

When the plug is all the way in, the pink gem peeking out between your two globes of flesh, he smacks your other cheek, making it jiggle from the harsh hit.

"Is that so, dirty girl?" He wonders, gripping your hips and colliding his hips with your butt, sensing his big bulge pulsing under his pants. "You like it when your little ass gets stretched out?"

"I like everything you do to me," you say with a content sigh, pussy clenching around nothing as your ass gets used to the small butt plug.

Jimin genuinely thinks he can't find better than you. You were so shy in the beginning, looking like a lost puppy wherever you went. You just needed someone bigger and older to show you the way — though you were too dumb, and still are, to realize he was leading you to the wrong path.

It's not like you seem to mind, anyway.

After all, you both got what you wanted; you, male attention, someone to rely on and be protected by, and him, a woman to break and keep with him forever.

He lets go of your hips to unbuckle his belt, pulling the leather material out of the gold loop with the luxury Dior logo on it. He lets the two ends of the belt hang off, not bothering to remove it completely, and tucks the fly of his pants down.

He finally frees his cock from the confines of his boxers, springing up and slapping against his stomach, the bit of pre-cum escaping from his tip dampening his shirt.

"You're so good to me, princess," he praises as he wraps a hand around the base of his engorged cock, aching and begging to be nestled in your cute little pussy.

His head pushes at your entrance, never fully entering, only teasing your hole and stimulating all of your sensitive nerves. He watches how his cock stretches your cunt, your walls expending to receive his bulbous tip and then closing down when he pulls out.

"Sir, please, want more," you beg him, pushing your ass on him to have his dick back in you. You let out a little whimper when Jimin holds your hips in place, stopping you from wiggling your butt side to side against his thick cock.

He hums and slaps your ass harshly, your skin stinging after. "Want my cock in your needy little pussy, baby? Is that what you're crying for?" He asks, teasing even more by swiping the head of his penis between your pussy lips, a string of your arousal sticking to his angry tip.

"Yes," you say back quickly and desperately, arching your back, literally presenting yourself to Jimin. "Been so good, don't I deserve it, Sir?" You softly murmur, still looking over your shoulder to see his gaze fixated on your quivering pussy, cock head sliding up and down over your sex.

"You do..." He responds distractedly, licking his plump lips, his fingers touching the pink gem peeking out from your ass. You're always so good and obedient for him, he even wonders if you ever did something that genuinely pissed him off before.

When he really sinks in, his head passing the barrier of your sweet pussy, he groans deeply, feeling your walls deliciously enveloping his hard cock tightly.

You moan in unison as he bottoms out in you, his balls touching your wet and warm pussy. He bends his back over yours, running his hand up your spine, feeling all the little bumps of it until he reaches your head and shoves it against the mattress.

You whine when he starts pounding into you, his girth stretching you out so well, leaving you panting and moaning loudly. His other hand holds your hip against his dick, fingers digging into your skin, leaving permanent marks on your body — as well as on your mind and your soul.

He already sets a hard and rapid pace — fucking is never soft or loving with Jimin, it's violent, long, and agonizing. It's a way to be himself, the real and dark version of himself he hides in public and releases when he gets intimate with you.

You surprisingly got accustomed to it, embracing it as if it was your destiny, the reason for your existence; to be his personal slut, the little toy he likes to play rough with. And you've accepted it, like you had no other choice but to be fucked into oblivion by Jimin whenever he feels like it.

"You like that, baby? Huh?" He growls, as if you're the disgusting one for liking the way he treats you, ravished and delighted to have his girthy cock sliding against your velvety walls. "You like it when I fuck you hard like this?" He repeats and grips your hair, pushing your head against the bed covers with more strength.

You babble out something, voice caught in your throat, too out of breath to formulate a simple sentence. You then only nod, your cheek squished against the mattress, Jimin's hand still pushing down on your head.

His mouth hangs open to let out heavy breaths and his eyes are focused on your face, watching the little translucent pearls fall on your face and on the covers. Your pussy swallows all of his girth, clenching so tightly it has him groaning and saying profanities under his breath.

It's sick how it makes his cock so fucking hard, leaking so much pre-cum in you and twitching avidly by seeing you struggle to breathe. You crumple the bed sheets between your little fists, doing everything in your power to keep your ass up for Jimin and not slump down on the bed from the hard thrusts he's inflicting on you.

He snaps his hips against your ass and the entirety of his length is covered in your wetness, a white ring made of your cream circling the base of his cock.

His hand holding your head descends to your neck, enclosing it with his fingers, the coldness of his silver rings contrasting with the hotness of your sweaty skin. He squeezes a little, just a bit so you know who's in control, so you never forget Jimin controls you — that he controls your life and thoughts.

With a grip on your hair, he brings your torso up, arched back against his chest. The material of his shirt sticks to your skin, coated in a thin layer of sweat. He continues to pound into you, his cock sliding in and out of your pussy rapidly, as he holds you by the throat, lewdly licking a long stripe along the side of your face.

You shudder in desire, hair standing up on your delicate arms. "You're my little whore, aren't you, baby?" His mouth is right beside your ear as he whispers dirty things to you, his lips touching your hair, damp at the nape of your neck. "So fucking compliant... You want to please me so bad like the slut that you are," he mouths the words against your hair, cock pulsing hard in your cunt.

His free hand that doesn't have a hold around your throat slides down your body, passing over your belly and reaching your puffy clit. The sharp zipper of his pants graces the flesh just under your ass, irritating your skin and making it itchy.

You clench around him when his digits find your sensitive bud, circling it sensually and slowly, the complete opposite of his hip thrusts.

"Yes, want to please you, Jimin," you gasp, bucking your hips at the feeling of his rough fingertips on your pussy. He grunts when you address him by his name, loving how it sounds on your tongue, so sweet and timid.

He remembers the first time you moaned his name; you were sprawled across his expensive leather couch, blindfolded and hands attached together with his black tie. Intense for your first time with him, but it was also the last time he's ever been that gentle with you.

It was when his cold fingertips graced the skin of your stomach that you let out a squeak followed by his name, said in the quietest moan. He had then stopped his movements and looked at your face, an expression of distress painted over your features.

He had realized how frail and weak you actually were, needing your most important sense to be at ease. That's why he had blindfolded you, to show you how dependent you are of him, how impossible it is for you to live without him to guide you.

He pushes your jaw to the side so your lips can meet his in a feverish kiss, wet tongues mingling together, drool dripping down from the corners of your mouth. He continues to ram his cock in your now soppy and messy pussy, the sound of skin against skin resonating in the hotel room.

He traps your bottom lip between his teeth, making you whimper and close your walls around his girth once again. Your little hands grip the material of his trousers, keeping him close and holding on to something because the hard cadence of his hip thrusts push you forward, breasts bouncing up on your chest.

"Fuck," he curses and he suddenly stops, steadying his hips against your butt. You let out a whiny moan as Jimin lets go of your face and hips.

You're sad to have your pleasure ripped away from you so hastily, but you don't have the time to complain, Jimin slipping out of your cunt and pushing you down violently on the mattress.

You turn around on your back to see him unbuttoning his dress shirt and throwing it on the floor, revealing to you his beautiful chest and defined abs. He gets rid of his pants and socks after, finally removing his boxers, the only things remaining on him being his rings and the watch crowning his right wrist.

His cock glistens in your juices, more pre-cum leaking from his swollen tip and twitching avidly against his stomach. Even though him fucking you while being all dressed and you completely bare is a way to humiliate and degrade you, he also likes to be naked sometimes.

He loves skin to skin contact, how your bodies stick together because of all the sweat coating you. It's addicting, it's rougher and it creates more friction — more pain.

He doesn't mind being naked too because he knows how to dominate you either way. He doesn't find it embarrassing, on the contrary, it makes him scarier and hungrier. While you shiver without your clothes on, curled up on yourself, Jimin is imposing, his cock thick and girthy enough to split you in half.

He crawls back to you, hovering over you like a predator had caught his prey, boring his eyes into yours. You look at him in awe, always waiting patiently. You feel his cock against your thigh, thick and veiny, your hole pathetically quivering — missing his size stretching out your pussy.

He sneaks a hand between your legs and reaches the little pink gem, ready to get it out. "Take a deep breath sweetheart," Jimin instructs and you inhale deeply.

He doesn't waste a second, pulling out the butt plug out of your ass. You scrunch your eyes shut at the pain, exhaling when it's done. He carefully sets it on the nightstand, coming back to you after.

He bends your legs over your stomach and looks at your ass, just begging him to fuck it, shining with lube and arousal that leaks from your pussy. His erect cock is just so close to it and Jimin could slide right in with one movement of his hips.

He lets go of one of your legs to grip his engorged erection, a little gasp escaping your lips when he presses the head of his cock at your tight hole, threatening to sink in.

"Sir," you sigh, not sure if you're ready for that. It always burns no matter how good you prepped before and he knows that. That's why he's so tempted, that he's staring so obsessively at your rim.

Will it hurt you? Will you grip his biceps in an attempt to dissuade him? He wants to see those tears falling from your eyes again, he wants to lick them and tastes your pain. He feels more blood rush to his penis at the mere thought of hurting you.

Give him all of your pain, he'll fucking take it whole and cherish it. He wants it — he needs it. Accuse him for having a sick and twisted mind, accuse him for everything you've ever been hurt by because he'll gladly take the blame.

"I know you can take it," he says in a low tone, glancing up at your face as he applies just a bit more pressure to your ass hole. "Can you, baby?" Jimin asks, waiting for you to admit how much you want it, how badly you want him to destroy you.

"Yes..." You whisper back, a long shiver running up your spine as his eyes pierce through you.

"Yes, what? Tell me, sweetheart," he demands, and it's as if he doesn't care about your response whatsoever because the next thing he does makes you yelp in pain.

His tip has entered you, the burning sensation forcing you to scrunch your eyes shut, your instinct thinking it'll protect you.

"Yes, I- I can..." you stutter and as expected, you dig your nails in the flesh of his biceps — only fair to hurt him in return. "I can take your cock in my ass..."

You take a sharp breath, eyes slowly opening, all watery and painful. Jimin groans at that, stuffing more of himself in your hole. "Good girl," he praises, voice raspy, ending with a deep grunt.

He stretches you out completely, his dick in no comparison to the toys you've used to prepare yourself. You open your mouth as he pushes himself in gradually, tears streaming down your face when you blink.

The tears roll down the side of your face and Jimin can't help but be turned on, leaning in to kiss your face and collect some of your tears, tasting the saltiness of them on his tongue.

"Jimin...!" You look at him with the saddest and most hurtful gaze, tears rolling down your face. "It burns," you add in a quiet voice, now scratching his back, leaving long red trails on his skin.

"I know, baby, I know," he softly murmurs in your ear, a husky moan leaving his mouth when he's completely nestled in you, balls touching your ass. "You're so tight, fuck," he sucks air through his teeth, not moving until he estimates he's waited long enough.

He gives warm and wet kisses to your neck, descending to your collarbones and groping your breasts, slowly starting to move his hips. You lock your legs behind his back, wanting him as close to you as possible despite the pain he's inflicting on you.

He loves knowing it hurts you because it makes it more pleasurable to him somehow. The pain will go away soon anyway, that's why he doesn't bother to stop or slow down. You have to get used to the feeling first.

He wouldn't go too far to hurt you. The choking, the hair pulling, the smacks... He keeps it for the bedroom, but he won't lie that there's a part of him that wants to ruin your life, ruin everything you've accomplished so far just so he can see those sad eyes of yours and hear you ask him for help out of desperation.

It's not even sexual, he just wants to break you, that's all he desires. Though your life is something he wants to destroy, it's more of a way to have you dependant on him after. If your career is no longer successful, your solution is Jimin because he's the only person in your life capable of taking care of you both emotionally and physically.

His teeth chew on the tender skin of your neck while his hand travels all over your body, many veins popping out along his strong arm. The cool sensation of his rings on your stomach makes you shiver, his finger gently circling your clit to make the pain more bearable.

His cock slides in your hole back and forth, your ass slowly but surely taking the size of girth. Many curses leave Jimin's mouth, your ass probably the best he's ever fucked. You feel so good around him, you're tight, but you loosen easily, making it so, so pleasurable for him.

His hand that was roaming over your body comes to close around your throat and he turns his head to your side, lips brushing over your temple. "Yeah, just like that, baby," he mutters under his breath, his nose pressing down on your hair as he murmurs the words to you. "Just like that..."

A choked moan is all you can respond, eyes rolling back in your skull as Jimin splits your ass open, fucking his thick cock into you. His hot breath hits the side of your face, his chest heaving rapidly while you claw at his back, white scratches appearing on his skin.

He sweetly kisses your temple as he pounds into you, not tightening his hand around your throat, just holding you in place — always letting you know that he is always in control.

Your tits slightly bounce up and down on your chest, little whines coming out of you each time Jimin bottoms out. It starts feeling good for you — really good — and you think that this pleasure is totally worth a bit of pain at the beginning.

You grip the hair at the nape of his neck and bring him in for a kiss. He accepts it, kissing you back as if he wants to possess your whole mouth, biting and licking your lips. You moan into his mouth, twisting his hair between your fist and sinking your nails into the flesh of his back.

He backs away from you a little, his plump lips glistening in both of your saliva, and places his two palms on your boobs. He feels your perky nipples under his hands, just loving how plushy your breasts are, fitting perfectly in his palms.

He keeps thrusting in you as he gropes your tits and you bring your hands over his, looking into each other's eyes. He lowly groans, holding eye-contact with you.

You feel his veins under your palms, your pussy clenching around nothing but air while you run your hands all over his arms. You enjoy the sensations of his pulsing veins under your small fingers as you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, staring into Jimin's dark eyes.

"Jimin..." You moan his name, throwing your head back and closing your eyes, just enjoying the feeling of his hard cock entering and exiting your tight hole. Jimin takes the opportunity to smooch your neck again as you expose it to him, his full lips delicately pressing down on your throat. "I love it," you sigh pleasantly.

He hums, the sound coming deep from his throat. He wants to hurt you, yes, but he likes it even more when you love the pain. He just knew you were exactly like him when he first saw you. He had the feeling that you needed someone like him, someone that'd push you to your limits and make you discover a new type of pleasure.

And he was right because there's not one time where you told him to stop.

"My dirty girl," he purrs in response, bringing his lips up to your jaw. He slowly rolls your nipples between his fingertips, pinching and pulling on them. "You're stupid, but so, so good for me, baby," he groans in your ear, gritting his teeth as he feels his balls tightening.

He slowly halts his hips movements, letting out heavy breaths as he eventually pulls out of you. You gasp when he does so, already missing his cock stretching out your ass.

You're both trying to catch your breaths, Jimin raising himself up from you and getting out of the bed. His erection stands tall against his stomach, bouncing up as he walks to the front of the bed.

You watch him getting away until he orders you to follow him. "Come here," he says softly and you don't make him wait. "On your knees," Jimin commands when you're facing him, sinking down to your knees after.

He places a hand behind your head and the other around the base of his dick, guiding the head of his cock toward your lips as he pushes down on your head.

"Here, baby," he instructs in a low voice. "Take it in your mouth." You part your lips to welcome Jimin's length, his bulbous tip shining in pre-cum and your juices under the light of the hotel room.

He immediately moans when he enters the warmth of your mouth, his heavy cock sliding on your wet tongue. He doesn't let you have much control, pushing his dick in your mouth until your nose touches his pubic hair.

You relax your jaw for Jimin, allowing him to stuff your mouth full of his cock. He looks down at you, watching the way your lips wrap around him tightly, your eyes starting to water. He still holds the back of your head with one hand, guiding you over his stiff erection and you moan obscenely around Jimin, drool dripping down on your chin.

He begins to fuck your mouth, forcing you to take the whole thing each time he bottoms out. He moves his hips back and forth, obsessed with the way his girth appears and reappears between your lips as he uses your mouth as he pleases.

"Shit," he hisses when you hollow your cheeks, making it more pleasurable for him. "You're a fucking cockslut, aren't you, baby?" He says breathily, his eyes not once leaving his cock penetrating your mouth over and over again.

You whine around him, surely agreeing with what he said. It sends deliciously vibrations through his entire body, the sounds of your moans and hearing you gag around him is so arousing to him. He wants to hear more so he literally uses your mouth like a toy, snapping his hips against you, his balls slapping your chin.

He lets out a deep moan, your cheeks now damp and eyelashes all wet because of your tears, eyes stinging as Jimin fucks your throat like a mad man.

"Stroke your clit," he manages to say between two heavy breaths. "You can get off by yourself, right? I know you're soaking wet just by letting me use that pretty mouth of yours," he mocks you, but he knows he's right. Whatever he does, your cunt is always dripping wet.

You whimper again, doing what he told you to and sneaking a hand between your thighs to play with your pussy. You part your legs wider as you circle your clit with your finger, Jimin's hooded eyes lazily watching you playing with yourself.

Your right hand is laying on his thigh while the other is operating between your legs, pleasuring yourself to the sounds of Jimin's moans and the feeling of his stiff cock weighing down on your tongue.

You do your best to breathe through your nose, swallowing around his length and flattening your tongue underneath him. Your juices drip down your inner thighs, your finger flickering over your sensitive bud smoothly because of your arousal.

The whole room is smelling like sex, an odour that Jimin can't ignore, loving it so much. Your lips glide so easily over his hard cock, completely covered in your spit and still some of your wetness, tasting yourself on him.

"Ah, fuck," he curses, his head rolling back on his shoulders, eyes still strained down on you. He feels the familiar burning sensation at the pit of his stomach, indicating he's really close to his orgasm. He stops thrusting in you. "Go on the bed, baby."

You're taken aback, but you follow his order, pulling him out of your mouth and laying your back down on the mattress close to the edge. You beautifully moan when Jimin penetrates your pussy a second time, bending your legs over your stomach.

"Oh, god," you cry softly, being pounded onto the bed by him right away, tits moving up and down on your chest.

His hands are positioned on each side of your shoulders, snapping his hips against yours so harshly you feel your skin stinging. You keep doing circle motions on your clit, now faster and impatient to reach your high.

You let out a high-pitched moan when Jimin suddenly steadies his hips over yours, dropping down to his elbows as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. "Holy fuck," he grunts, gripping the bed sheets tightly in fists beside your head as his cock twitches in your pussy.

"Yes, yes," you quietly exclaim, your clitoral orgasm passing through you, making you arch your back and buck your hips.

Your hole clenches repeatedly around him and he finally comes undone into you, shooting long, thick ropes of cum deep into you. He empties himself in your wet cunt, cumming just after you.

When he slips out of you, more spurts out of his tip, landing on your pussy, covering it in his creamy cum. You moan at the warm sensation, always loving how it feels both in and on you. Some of his seeds dribble out of you, dripping down to your ass.

He stays above you for some time, catching his breath and looking at the mess he made on you. He stares up at your face, seeing how fucked up you look, hair in a nest and eyes reddened.

Later, Jimin is in the shower, washing his hair and his body, passing a soft cloth soaked in soap over his chest. He lets the water fall over his head, wetting his black locks. He stays maybe a bit longer than normally, staring at the tiled wall.

He thinks about you, about all the things he's planned. He revised everything in his head, imagining you walk on the podium wearing his design, people looking at his piece with admiration in their eyes.

He thinks about all of that that will go down for you after the show, getting fired, losing your career and your fans. Many articles talking about your excessive use of alcohol and drugs, saying how tired and sad you look beside Jimin.

You won't last long, you're too weak anyway. A downfall like this is unconquerable, nobody recovers from that, and surely not a model who will be thrown out of the industry as soon as you turn twenty-five.

Jimin knows the industry, he's been in it for years now. He's aware of how cruel it is, how difficult and harsh it can be on fragile little girls like you.

But that's why he's here, to take care of you once nobody will want you anymore. That's the goal, after all; you to be finally his — solely and completely his.

"Jimin?"

Your voice reaches him, turning his head in your direction, seeing you hesitantly entering the shower with him. He opens his arms, inviting you to come closer and you do, hugging him and laying your head down on his wet chest.

"I love you, sweetheart," he softly murmurs against your hair. "I'll never leave you, you know that, right?"

You nod your head, looking up at him and meeting his gaze. "I love you, too."

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A F T E R

The runway went incredibly well. Celebrities and journalists were all gathered for the fall show, totally amazed by every design and the models that were wearing them.

But there was one specific piece that everyone was willing to say was the best.

Jimin was satisfied to see that his name stood out among everyone else's, being called more times than Dior itself. He predicted it; it was the creation that every guest remembered, the dress that the fans were only talking about.

He'd take all the credit, he was the one who imagined it and then sewed it after all, but he has to admit that you had contributed to the fame a lot.

Being the beloved face of Dior only made people talk more about it and that was what Jimin needed.

But everything has an end, doesn't it?

When Jimin comes back to his apartment, the place is silent except for the TV playing, as he thought it would be. You're looking through the window, watching the city living at night while it's raining. You're sitting on the sofa, not even acknowledging his presence as he enters, getting rid of his shoes.

You're not much of a talker since you've been fired from Dior a few days ago just after the fall show. He understands your wish of remaining silent, needing a bit of space to process everything that has happened the past weeks in your small head.

It was going to happen soon enough anyway. You've been to your photoshoots completely drunk, sometimes just going in with a hangover, but of course it didn't help your case at all.

Jimin was guilty for letting you drink alcohol so soon in the morning. No need to deny it, he was even the one for dropping you off at work like that. Well, he had to do it if he wanted people to notice how far you've fallen.

He doesn't feel bad, though. Your career wasn't going to last with Jimin's sabotage or not. He did you a favour, you should be thankful.

You can't handle being a model. If you could, none of that would have happened. You wouldn't have gained weight, you would have been suspicious of the amount of calories Jimin was feeding you. The bottle of wine wouldn't have been so tempting and smoking weed wouldn't have ever occurred to you as a good idea.

Some people can, others can't and you're one of them. You shouldn't be ashamed of it, sometimes things just don't work out like we would have wanted them to.

"Did you see the article they wrote about me?" You ask, already knowing he's walking up to you without looking. "You surely did, I bet that's all they're talking about..."

He sits down beside you and you eventually turn around, facing him. You care so much about what others think of you. It must be so tiring having such a low self-esteem. He can only imagine it; seeing you look through the window like a sad puppy, your life finally making sense when Jimin comes home.

"I did, but nothing of that matters to me," he answers, the most honest he's ever been. And even if he had to lie, it's not like you wouldn't have believed him. You always trust whatever he says.

You don't reply, your head still filled with many thoughts.

"Hey, come here," he softly tells you, patting his thigh. You straddle his lap, setting your hands on his shoulders. He cups your chin, forcing you to look at him as you keep avoiding his gaze. "Whatever they say, whatever their name is, nothing will ever be more important than you."

Because who is he if he lets some article affect the way he sees you? He's known you since the beginning of your career and he stayed til the end of it.

He knows you better than everyone else. He was with you during your highs and lows and he'll still be there for the next ones. There's nothing in the world that could make him leave you. After everything he's done to have you, there's no way he'll go away.

How cowardly of him if he does. He can't leave when he's promised he'd heal you — close all of your past wounds and create other ones.

He may be selfish, but there's one thing that he isn't and it's a fucking liar. He sticks to his words, and when he says he'll never leave you, that means he'll never, never abandon you — he'll never leave your side, not even once. He can't risk it.

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