i know my a mag a day stuff has floated away a bit from actual in depth analyses and more into, idk, personal philosophy sessions? and although it's always still rooted in the actual episode, i'd like some feedback on whether i should tone it back a bit? because on one hand, i still want to keep it tma related, but on the other, what i really do love about tma (especially these later parts) are the philosophical and ideological questions presented. and as subplots wrap up and i don't want to reiterate the same thing over and over again, it's getting a bit harder to pure focus on the episode contents, but i'm wondering if i'm straying a bit too far away?
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the one where crossing a definitive line is easier than both of you realize, and harry can’t wait to get used to it.
AN: the smut in this was supposed to be pure filthy, but feelings somehow got in the way, so here we are. enjoy, and if you can, please, buy me a coffee
He really should get out of bed soon. Technically, he should be out already, seeing he is supposed to be at an early interview, but Harry just... can't.
The bed is warm, you see. And he's too busy watching YN sleep, head pressed against his naked chest, one arm thrown around his waist, the other tucked under the pillow to be arsed to think rationally. It's kind of a thing. It happens, when she's around. He gets caught up, body and mind, like tunnel vision or something. It's her. All her.
Besides, he hasn't seen her for a while, so it's even worse this morning. Pretty bad last night too, when he sneaked out after a performance, jogging up the stairs of her building as fast as he could, heart on his throat when she opened the door.
She was on his arms before her sleepy brain could fully comprehend he was really there, a solid presence, his breathing raising goosebumps where it hit her skin.
He didn't want to let her go, so when she just pressed herself closer, he decided he wouldn't. He was fine, more than fine, standing there with the cold from the hallway hitting his back, the scent of YN's coconut shampoo making his head spin with the realization he missed her much more than he had let himself be aware of, voice muffled and full of surprise when the greeting came.
It had been over a year since they met, but the surprise had yet to fade: Harry could sense it, spot it in the first seconds of every late call, watch it whenever one of them came over with bags of take out and cheap spirits, the slimmer of doubt, the hesitant smile before he pulled her close like she was waiting for him to realize this, them, shouldn’t be a thing.
Harry felt the same. It scared him shitless, made him a trembling mess every time this sweet girl smiled at him, pushed him off of her way or told a joke that was as bad as the ones he had memorized over the years: all he could do was wonder if it was the last time, every time.
Maybe that was it. The fear of losing her, maybe that’s what had Styles biting his tongue every time he almost let her name slip when one of his other friends asked what kept him glued to his phone in every spare moment. There were at least a couple of people that would want his head if they knew the story anyway. Harry wasn’t supposed to go and give his number out to fans, for fucks sake, not even the ones that worked in a small restaurant he liked to escape to every now and then. Not even if they let him sit on the corner and just be when the nights seemed too long, making conversation about anything that weren't the things the world was convinced it already knew about him. Especially not if their smile made his heart rate increase, if it had him blurting out excuses to linger around just five minutes more...It was careless, could be dangerous, even.
He took the risk anyway. Fame had given him his wildest dreams, but it robbed him of so much at the same time...moments like the previous night, nestled in bed while YN's voice filled the room with words from the book she was trying to finish before he got there, were Harry stealing something back.
More than worth it, if you still had doubts.
Now, while his hand grabs at the black bedside table in search of his phone before the bloody alarm goes off, the musician wonders how he'll manage the day without her, how he'll focus on anything that isn't the memory of her lips on his just hours ago: he can still taste it, her along with the nerves that dissolved as the night went on, bodies slowly relaxing in the moonlight, the words of a stranger and a hardcover the last barriers left standing.
He moved first, right when YN's voice got hoarse a couple of chapters in, his head on her pillow, telling himself it was just so she didn't have to speak as loud, but he still came closer every time her eyes flickered into his in between paragraphs.
With his fingertips dancing up and down the arm she had resting on her hip, the book was over before they knew it, YN's hands tangled in his chocolate locks. Seconds slowly bled into minutes until Harry couldn't stand it, not kissing her: he leaned forward, just enough so his intentions were clear. Waiting.
First heartbeat: she didn't pull away.
Second heartbeat: her eyes fluttered closed, fingers curving on the back of his neck…
She was kissing him, then. Slow, barely-there drags of plump lips on his, tasting, grip on his hair growing stronger as the kisses started to linger.
It wasn’t long before their bodies started to intertwine, YN’s right leg swung over his hips, Harry’s rings bruising the inside of her thigh when he felt her lips graze his jawline before they were on his neck, nibbling at that soft spot that had his cock fattening up so fast he could swear he was seeing stars under his close eyelids…
The memory alone has the guy swearing under his breath, painfully aware he’s got a bad case of morning wood all of a sudden.
It didn’t happen the night before, both of them too busy trying to fit months of making out into a couple of hours to properly think about anything else, even if it was maybe taking things further, and now…
Harry has to go.
YN stirs when the mattress shifts, loose limbs refusing to let go of his warmth just yet.
“No” it’s a weak plea, Harry’s deep chuckle sounding close, but not as much as she’d like.
“ ‘s still early, sweetheart, ye don’t have to move” now he’s whispering, fingers caressing the shell of her ear, the fastest way to have YN asleep, he knows. “go back to sleep, promise I’ll lock up when it’s time to leave” a kiss to her forehead, another to her nose, then one on her exposed cheek...her arm tightens around him, blinking so his angel face is more focused. “Hi”
“Don’t move" it’s a borderline pathetic whining sound, but she’s far too sleepy to care at the moment, pulling him back when he tries to roll over to the other side.
"Gonna make me late, angel" he's way stronger than her, so objectively, she can't hold him in bed all morning, YN knows that, but knowing won't stop her from trying: she's not sure what last night was about, but the longer he stays, the more time she has to not think about it. If he stays, perhaps he'll kiss her again. She'd like that, very much so. "YN, come on" his voice is wavering, but his body is a solid weight when he gets on top of her, pinning the girl to her bed so he can unwrap her arms from around himself, which...Yeah, she likes that.
"Sorry" his eyes are even prettier this close, head tilting to drop a chaste kiss to the palm of her hand before she can slide it from his neck. "You have to go, but I…" he shouldn't even be there, she's well aware of how full his public schedule is gonna be for the next days. Letting the enchantment wear off, remembering they belong to different worlds is harder now, tho.
They've crossed a dangerous line, truly messed up, she realizes.
I mean, it was just a late make-out session if she were to really think about it. A flicker of desire caused by some post-performance adrenaline rush on his part, nothing more.
Never more.
Right?
Looking away, YN breathes him in, once, twice…push him off. That's all she has to do now. Figuring out how to forget his taste is for when it's safe, once his job puts an ocean between them again.
"Baby, look at me" Harry is the one who breaks the silence clouding the room all of a sudden, body still pressed against hers. She's tensing up now, he can feel it happening "What's wrong?"
Watery, doubtful eyes meet his, YN's small hand pressed to his chest, just resting there, like she hasn't decided what comes next just yet.
"Kiss me again" she whispers, after a moment "Kiss me so I know you want me too. Please, Harry"
There's nothing gentle about the contact this time around, no. When he kisses her now, Harry takes her mouth, claims it, smashing their lips together, tongue gliding against hers.
When he kisses her now, he feels her body tremble and heat up below his, hears the first soft moan rising from the back of her throat, biting into his lower lip to try and chase him when he pulls back so they can breathe.
When he kisses her now, he can't stop his hands from wandering, spreading over the expanse of her soft hips, dick throbbing when he grazes the material of her panties. He's so hard now, even the feel of the old pair of sweats he went to bed in brushing against his tip makes the singer hiss into her mouth.
"Wanna feel you" he doesn't want to, but he wills himself to pull away enough so there's actually some centimeters between them, eyes darting to the hem of YN's shirt, bundled up above her navel. Somewhere along the kissing he's fitted himself in between her legs, he realizes now, dragging his nails over the exposed skin "Can I?" she nods, gasping when he pulls his fingertips up and under her the fabric, all the way to where he can feel her pebbled nipple, rub his thumb over it slowly, watching her breath get caught, moving to the other side after some time, pulling at nub until she whines, then starting again.
"Off. Take it off" YN's positively shaking when she speaks, rising from the mattress so he can pull the shirt over her head.
"Fuck, baby" Harry looked away for about two seconds when he threw it on the floor and now he's watching her rub herself over her panties, pupils blown with lust, defying gaze faltering as his mouth wraps around the mount of her left breast and starts descending.
"Harry….Please" YN is burning. Harry's mouth is going down her exposed skin torturously slow, and knowing what he's about to do is not making the wait any easier: he's gotten her so wet it's almost embarrassing, clit throbbing cause of the few seconds of friction her own hand provided before she lost the capacity to focus "Please" he smiles when she tries to push his head lower, letting the elastic of her panties snap back against the skin, once, twice.
"Ready to give me a taste, angel?" she's a mess, the sly grin plastered on his face says he can tell….YN's still trying to decide if he really wants an answer and if she can give him one that's not a heady moan caused by the feel of her underwear coming off when she feels his smart tongue lick it's way from the inside of her thighs to the apex of her legs, the bedframe hustling as he buries himself deeper into her cunt, nose rubbing at her swollen nub as he fucks her with his tongue.
"I want you, now" she can barely recognize her voice, the rest of the phrase dying down at the sight of Harry licking at his lips when their eyes meet again "Please, H" her mind is a mess of sleep, needing, and Harry, so she doesn't bite her tongue to avoid begging again.
He's teased her time and time again about it, but right now, while the guy reaches into the bedside table's drawer for a condom he knows she keeps there, his sculptured face is full of desire, lust blowing up in his pupils when she doesn't look away as he gets it on himself.
His touch is gentle, however.
Styles is all taunted muscles when he drapes himself over her, close as he can be, hard tip nestling where she wants him most, but the hand that comes to the side of her face carries the faintest of touches:
"So beautiful, baby. Can't stop looking at yeh" it's a whispered confession, eyes never leaving hers as he goes forward, dropping open-mouthed kisses to the exposed skin as YN's body melts into his with every inch his shaft takes.
He's claiming her and they both know it.
"Fuck" the curse sounds almost sweet, a reverence coming from his lips, Harry looking at her for what is the millionth time but feels like the first, lips crashing again.
He kisses YN, slowly, wills himself to relax and not just fuck her. Every thrust takes him deeper, the wet heat, the pleasure written over her, even the smell of their sweat mixing together making his mind and his hips rail faster, skin slapping sounds driving him crazy.
It was never this good before, he realizes, looking down to where YN's biting her lips, big teary eyes on him as he takes them closer, pussy throbbing around him with every move.
It might just be the endorphins flooding his cortex, but in that moment, Harry could swear she was made for him.
She cums suddenly, his name a whine and a warning as the man keeps going, the ink decorating his body swerving around her closed eyelids when wave after wave of pleasure sweeps every inch of her, the feeling of him the only thing that matters once he finds his own release, numb fingers still intertwined on his hair, praise words on a thick accent not even registering.
" 'morning, angel" the banter that's never too far when it comes to them sounds better when her bedsheets smell like him, YN decides, opening her eyes a few moments after he's pulled out, just to make sure he's still there. Her breathing is erratic, the raw feeling of her throbbing cunt radiating throughout her entire body as they stare at each other, Harry's warmth sipping onto her, as he stands there and look at her, eyes glinting like he's trying to make sure it was real too.
"For fucks sake, H" the whisper finds them snuggled close, her fingers scratching at his scalp, the man's confused expression turning upward when he notices YN is trying not to laugh "You're so late"
The rest of the morning is kind of a blur: she watched from the bed as Harry rushed through a shower, cursing when the girl pointed out he had his shirt on backward, messily kissing her goodbye when his Uber ride got to the building. Apart from the delicious dull ache in between her legs, she tried not to think about him too much, not that it worked: the ghost of his touch had her flustered, heart beating on her throat when another text came by lunch:
Dinner tonight? Want you to meet some of my friends. I'll try to keep my hands to myself, but note that it's not a promise. I miss you, angel.
When she hit sent on a simple four-word acceptance, her fingers trembled: no matter what came next, things between them would never be the same again.
alright, which would you all rather read (sooner than later?? prob??):
-the next installment of my series the aftermath, which deals with an alternate canon where damian died during the R:SOB comics. the new fic will deal with bruce finding out, plus alfie and others,,
-a third part to my blood in my lungs fic, the series you can find here, because i didn’t do dick justice in any of them. this one will deal with the justice league finding out about what bruce did.
-a new fic: five times damian called dick dad on accident, one time he did it on purpose. self explanatory, but i’m excited to write it!
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Michelle Jones/ Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Ned Leeds/Peter Parker
Characters: Michelle Jones, Peter Parker, Ned Leeds
Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship, Pre-OT3, Making Out, Teen Crush, Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited, Accidental Voyeurism, Implied Sexual Content, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Summary:
Of all the ways MJ thought her movie night with her friend would end, kissing Ned was not one. But, as they all came to realize, it would be the start to something completely new for everyone caught in the mix. Especially when feelings get put in the middle. Fuck.
Jumping off my last post, I came up with a story for it:
Arima Ahiru is a first year student at Gold Crown Academy, a school that trains idols. She is following in the footsteps of her mother, who was the Top Idol back in her day. However, after she got married, she quit being an idol, disappeared, and later had Ahiru (like Ichigo). Ahiru is a Cute type Idol whose preferred brand is similar to Dreamy Crown and My Little Heart. She barely passed her audition and shares a room with Pique/Pike (Cool) and Lillie (Pop). Despite being teased for her near failure, Ahiru tries really hard and practices everyday. One of her favorite idols is Kuroha Rue.
Kuroha Rue is a second year at Gold Crown who is on her way to becoming her generations Top Idol. She is Sexy type idol whose brand is similar to Love Moonrise/Queen, Sangria Rose, and Dancing Mirage. Rue may make things seem easy and that she is naturally gifted, but in actuality, Rue practices harder than any student at Gold Crown and doesn’t take failure lightly. When she first saw Ahiru’s audition, she was certain that she would drop out or be kicked out, but was surprised by her perseverance. Rue later gave Ahiru tips on how she can improve and be a better idol.
The two later form a group for the Twin Idol Challenge and win the overall fan votes. Ahiru was so happy that they won and was surprised when Rue suggested they team up and become a pair. Ahiru was nervous since Rue is the genius of her generation, but Rue assures her that they complete each other; Rue is an excellent idol who does everything almost perfectly, and Ahiru is the one who makes connections with the fans. The two later form the group: Ballet Girls (or something IDK, maybe leave a comment about a better one), which centers around ballet themes (outfits, songs, dances, etc.)
Mytho and Fakir attend the boys section and are the Top Male Idols. They are in a group titled PRINCE X KNIGHT. Mytho is a Cute Idol and Fakir is a Cool Idol.
