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rafey-baby · 2 months ago

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older!rafe can’t always be mean to his delicate flower, can he?

18+ mdni!

c/w: fluff with a little bit of angst in the beginning, rafe feeding sensitive!reader pasta, slight subspace, smut: oral (f receiving), overstimulation, use of daddy & dad

wc: 2k

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Sock-covered feet pad along the hardwood floors when she finally hears the lock of the front door turning. Rafe’s home later than usual— a fact she’s entirely too aware of since she’s been impatiently waiting for him to return ever since he left her this morning without so much as a goodbye.

Usually, she’d stir awake to him smearing kisses all over her face and mumbling sweetened words about how much he’s going to miss her during his meetings— sometimes even wake her up with his cock prodding at her entrance before fucking her all sleepy and sloppy until she’s a sobbing mess.

However, she assumes he was still mad at her because she forgot to let him know she was going out for drinks after her lecture before her battery had died. Therefore, she hadn’t received his several calls or the texts filled with concern and only a few hours later, did she remember that she’d never actually sent the message regarding her whereabouts.

When he came to pick her up after she’d borrowed her friend’s phone in order to reach him, he was clearly displeased; merely muttering out a “ask you to do one thing and you can’t even do that. You know how fuckin’ worried I was?” and crudely telling her to go sleep in the guest room because “daddy doesn’t feel like dealing with your shit tonight”, which had resulted in wet droplets surfacing to her waterline while she kept apologizing over and over again, but to no avail.

In the morning, she’d woken up to a tear-stained pillowcase and a headache. And when she tiptoed over to the bathroom, she realized that the entire house was desolate; he hadn’t even left a note.

Therefore, she’s not exactly sure how to approach him, hesitant in her movements before she sees him in front of her in all his glory.

“Hi,” her voice is quiet, but her forlorn face lights up nonetheless.

Rafe is in the process of mindlessly kicking off his shoes when he looks up; a tired smile tugging at his lips when she practically tumbles into his arms in a greeting.

“Missed you,” she mumbles against his crisp button up when he rests his big hands on her hips in an attempt to steady her.

“Missed you too,” he murmurs into her hair. “Got you somethin’,” he reluctantly pulls away in order to present her with a bouquet of pink lilies; her favorites.

“What’s this for?” her moony eyes stare up at him in bewilderment.

“Drove past a flower shop…guess they made me think of you,” he admits, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek; confusing her to no end.

“But I thought—” she utters out, hesitant to take the flowers she feels unworthy of.

“That I was mad at you?”

She nods, looking up at him with guilt swimming in her eyes.

He lets out a sigh.

“Listen, I was, uh, maybe a little too harsh on you last night, okay? I know how forgetful you can be. Was just worried when you weren’t home and didn’t answer your phone until hours later. Thought somethin’ happened, you know?” he explains with a calmness that placates her racing mind as she accepts his gift.

“I know, m’sorry. Won’t happen again, promise. Texted you today the second I was home, right?”

“You did,” he confirms as he peels off his suit jacket before sniffing the air. “Smells good, what’re you making?”

“Oh, I made you dinner,” she says bashfully, almost as if waiting for his approval.

“You did? All by yourself?” his brows climb his forehead in surprise.

She nods, a soft smile on her lips before he’s ushering her towards the kitchen and plucking a glass vase from the top shelf for her.

Usually, he’s the one cooking for them since she’s not greatest in the kitchen, always so tired after studying the whole day, she’d probably forget the stove on and cause some sort of a fire due to her absentminded nature. Therefore, he prefers to prepare his girl a nurturing meal whenever he doesn’t have to work late.

“How was uni today?” he asks as she sets the now flower-filled vase on their dining table.

“A lot. Was kinda stressed the whole day cause I have so much homework and reading to do, don’t know how I’m supposed to have time for all of it. And then have this group project and the deadline for this essay approaching and…I don’t think my brain works anymore,” she sighs out when she peers down at the steaming bowl of spaghetti Bolognese he places on the counter.

“Good thing you don’t need to worry that head of yours over anythin’ with me. Let dad do the thinking for you, yeah?” Rafe’s voice is as smooth as honey, causing her to blink up at him— something cottony dusting over her mind in response to his sugary cadence.

Strong arms lift her up and place her on the marble countertop before he settles right between her thighs, like a puzzle piece she’s been missing the entire day; tall frame hovering over her even as she’s practically perched on a pedestal.

Then, he’s picking up the plate in the most casual manner and contently shoving a forkful of pasta into his mouth before groaning in satisfaction.

“Shit, this is amazin’,” he praises around the mouthful.

She mumbles out a flustered thank you, her thoughts all over the place since she thought he’d still be mad, but then suddenly he’s not. In fact, he’s seemingly in a great mood.

“Did you eat yet?”

“No, was, um…waiting for you. Didn’t wanna eat alone,” her volume is nearly inaudible.

He stops chewing.

“Waitin’ for me, huh?” he rasps out before he’s lifting the fork closer to her mouth.

She looks up at him, puzzled.

“Open,” he orders and she has no choice but to obey— let him feed her because truthfully, whenever she’s around him she gets a little dumb; can’t really focus on anything except his low drawl and gemstone eyes.

“Good, right?”

She hums her agreement around the bite, barely registering that some of the tomato sauce stains her chin in the process.

“Always so messy, huh?” he tuts disapprovingly, even if he’s the one holding the fork.

However, before her mushy brain has the time to even comprehend what he’s doing, he’s laving the flat of his tongue under her mouth; cleaning it up for her.

“There we go,” he murmurs as he rubs a thumb over the spot for good measure.

She swallows.

“Want some water?” he asks and she nods, all of a sudden unable to utter out words.

Then, he’s tipping a glass of ice-cold water to her lips, carefully watching her gulp down the liquid before he decides she’s had enough— withdrawing the cup in order to drink some of it himself.

He continues feeding her every other bite and making casual conversation, all the while she feels herself softly slipping into a very specific headspace. And before she realizes, he’s placing the empty dish in the sink with a slight clatter; their bellies full and happy.

She doesn’t think she wants to eat by herself ever again.

Then, her foggy mind registers him in front of her again as he pulls her closer— warm palms slipping under her top and his thumbs idly smoothing over her tummy while she quietly stares at him with hearts for eyes.

“You put this tiny thing on just for me, hm?” he questions as his eyes drop down to her cleavage; the pale pink lace doing a very poor job of concealing what’s underneath since she’s forgone a bra (and pants), as she usually does whenever she’s merely loitering around their home.

“Look so pretty in this,” his dreamy voice rumbles as he swipes a thumb over a covered nipple, causing her to let out a faint gasp at the sudden contact.

“Ray…” she hums out while he keeps rubbing over the squishy part of her body he knows gets her buzzing.

“Hm? You feelin’ floaty already?” he asks with a gentle cadence. And she’s not sure how he always seems to know just the right words to say in order to turn her into clay.

“Yeah, missed you so much,” her hazy eyes flicker over his face while he simply gazes at her, before he’s smearing his mouth on hers.

There’s something hungry, primal in the way he groans against her lips— causing a whimper to escape her throat in response.

Then, all of a sudden, he’s lifting her over his shoulder as if she weighs nothing more than a single paperclip; making her squeak out a sound of surprise when he jokingly smacks her ass while walking out of the room before throwing her on the bed.

“Let daddy say hi to his favorite girl, yeah?” he coaxes her before he’s prying her thighs apart and nuzzling his face into her cunt through the material of her panties; nose bumping against her clit, making her shift closer to him.

“Missed my pussy so much, you know? Wanted to fuck you nice ’n slow last night but you never came home.”

“M’sorry, daddy,” she can’t help but whimper out when his warm tongue licks over the already dampening fabric of her underwear.

“Yeah? You gon’ make it up to me? Let me eat you ’till I forgive you?”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want,” she blabbers, a whine leaving her vocal cords when he plucks the soaked through material to the side and blowson her sensitive cunt.

“Shit, you’re so wet already,” he says in awe, letting spit drip down his tongue and onto her folds anyway. Then, he’s wrapping his lips around her clit, making her cry out because she can already feel her orgasm lingering underneath the surface.

“Need to come, can I? Please m’gonna— ” she says, almost in a trance; already so wound up. And the way he’s practically torturing her achy button with his mouth isn’t really helping.

After he’s hummed his agreement, she’s not able to hold it in any longer— his tongue poking at her opening when the knot in her belly unfolds. She’s shaking, thighs yearning to close, if not for his strong arms holding them open as he groans around her, seemingly lost in a daze with her taste and smell practically suffocating him.

Since he knows how insatiable she tends to be, he refuses to pull away from between her thighs. And two more orgasms later, she’s a whimpering muddle; desperately trying to drag her hips away from his unrelenting hold. However, he’s entirely too strong and she doesn’t stand a chance.

“Ray, s’too much, need a break—” she complains, eyes beginning to turn watery in response to the overwhelming pressure.

However, despite her protests, he doesn’t stop. Instead, he begins to mess with her entirely too sensitive clit with his fingers now— pressing and pulling and making her whine as tears trickle down her cheeks and she tries to fruitlessly wiggle away from him once more.

“Nah, you’re good, dad wants you to give him a few more, think you can do that?” he mumbles against her sticky folds, stuffing the tip of his tongue into her weepy hole as an effort to persuade her.

“I don’t know if I can—”

“Shh, jus’ wanna make you feel nice, you don’t want me to?” he feigns hurt when he lifts up his head, beginning to mouth over the soft skin of her inner thighs to pacify her; his slight stubble tickling her in the process and making her twitch.

“No, I do, I do…”

“Then quit whinin’ and let me take care of you, hm? Show you how much I love you,” he coaxes her to give in. And when he puts it like that, she thinks it does sound rather romantic.

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deads-not-punk · 9 months ago

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And with that, I am done. Probably. If anyone sees this, have a Patrick from my brothers view - and goodnight .

(post show text from the aforementioned brother, it was his first fall out boy show)

#fob #Patrick Stump #also Pete wents and frank ilero I guess #hello goodbye and goodluck #sorry for spamming the fob tag <3 but uh clearly not that sorry </3

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trianglegoddess · 7 months ago

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Feral McGee™

It starts with the Joker.

His goons picked up Tim Drake. Not specifically because it was Tim Drake, he just so happened to be in the Joker’s neighborhood, and we'll, he can't pass up that opportunity now can he?

Except Tim Drake is watching, along with the rest of Gotham, at the Batcomputer. He’s nursing a broken foot and has been put on monitor duty until he's cleared for field work again.

The guy looks enough like him, though. Black hair, blue eyes, and bags under his eyes for days. He's also got the same lean sort of build like he does.

It happens like this.

The Joker is doing his monologue thing where he explains whatever twisted game he's come up with this time. He takes up the majority of the screen, so nobody can see Not-Tim behind him, not until the big reveal. Then he covers the screen again, getting up close and personal, before stepping back. In those quick few seconds, Not-Tim is no longer sitting there tied to the chair.

Someone off camera lets the Joker know, and he whirls around, confused as the rest of Gotham.

And then Not-Tim comes in with the steel chair.

Or, well, a crowbar, but the reference holds up.

He takes out one of Joker’s knees before punching him in the face. The Joker drops like a bag of stones, out cold.

Then he looks towards the camera.

“Hey there. I'm not really sure where I am, but also if he was after Tim Drake, he got the wrong guy. I'm not him, I'm just some dude. Anyway, I'll just-yep-” he carefully steps over the unconscious Joker, gives the camera a little wave, and then leaves.

Batman and Nightwing enter shortly after, with the Joker and his goons out cold and tied up. The knots were complicated enough where, in the end, the police resorted to cutting the ties off of them so they could be properly cuffed and taken to Arkham.

“A constrictor knot,” Batman tells Nightwing as they watch the villain be taken away. “Often used by sailors to temporarily tie things together to keep something in a bag, or to hold something to glue it back together.”

“Huh,” Nightwing says, scratching the back of his head. “Go figure.”

—

The next time it happens, it’s the Riddler.

He’s laughing, giving his riddles to the Bats and recording himself to all of Gotham while his victim, one of the Wayne brats, hangs over a vat of something. From a distance, he looks like Tim Drake, or maybe a lankier Dick Grayson. And he’s not the only victim, they’re all scattered across the city, but he thought an important figure such as a Wayne should be under the Riddler’s direct supervision while he enacts his schemes.

While the Riddler cackles and plots and waves his cane around, in the background all of Gotham can see the figure escape. Several Gothamites recognize him as the kid from before, who clocked the Joker. They all watch with bated breath as he sort of wiggles his way out of the ropes holding him up. Once he’s free, he climbs the rope and gets himself down safely.

Gotham holds their breath as the kid casually walks up to the Riddler, who’s mid-rant. He politely taps him on the shoulder, and as the Riddler is turning around, the kid clocks him just as brutally as he had the Joker. He’s down with one punch.

They think he’s going to say another sort of awkward goodbye, but instead he pats the Riddler down until he finds a piece of paper tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket.

“Right,” the kid says, looking at the list. There’s a lot more static overlay now, and several wonder if it’s damage to the cameras. “Uh, the Clocktower, the Docks, and-” he squints at the page for a moment-”Mama Nacaroni’s? What the fuck is that? Anyway, uh. See you later, I guess. Oh! And we’re at the Gotham Arena. Have fun with him, I guess.”

The kid tosses the paper off to the side before the camera cuts to black.

Just like last time, everyone is out cold and tied up. The Riddler himself is sporting a pretty bad shiner, but well deserved nonetheless.

“Stop it,” Red Hood tells him. Batman just looks at him, and though Hood can’t see the top half of his face, he can tell that his eyebrow is raised. “You know exactly what I mean, B. Put the adoption papers away.”

“Hn.”

—

After that, it sorta becomes a game. The rogues of Gotham are no longer after a Wayne, or after anybody who holds any kind of social status like usual. They’re all going after this one kid, all determined to be the one to hold him. And each one is televised.

Mr. Freeze freezes him in a block of ice, but due to the cameras glitching out, nobody can really see how he got free. They do, however, see the kid suplex Mr. Freeze. It should seem impossible, given his lanky figure, but he evidently has more muscle than he’s originally let on.

Two-Face gets a hold of him, using chains and some power-dampening cuffs just on the off-chance that he’s a meta. They all watch as the kid leans down, pulls a bobby pin out of his hair, and picks the locks on his cuffs. One punch, and Two-Face is down.

Gothamites are going wild for the kid. They’ve dubbed him Feral McGee™ (an online poll, of course), because every time he goes in for the punch he gets this feral look in his eyes. Also, just the fact that he casually goes up to these rogues and takes them out with all the casualness of doing something incredibly mundane? Incredible. The Gothamites are eating it up. However, despite the video evidence, nobody has been able to properly identify the kid. They know he has black hair and bright eyes, but any time he gets near a camera, it’s like there’s this weird, sort of warped quality the camera takes on. It doesn’t usually calm down until the fight is done-as one sided as they usually are-before he awkwardly skedaddles away.

He gets kidnapped by the Penguin, Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy (though that was more just a friendly chat than anything), Mad Hatter, and the Riddler again.

And then the Joker escapes.

It’s no surprise as to who he’s going to go after.

Due to one too many careless goons, they manage to find their way to the Joker’s hideout pretty quickly. This time, it’s all Bats on deck, and they all hide away in the rafters as Feral McGee™ is hung over a vat of acid. His whole body is tied up, hardly a single inch of exposed skin to be seen except for the neck up.

They watch the goons, they watch the Joker, and they watch Feral McGee™.

The Joker is monologuing, practically begging the bats to come find him before the timer runs out. When it does, the kid gets dumped into the vat of acid.

Despite these stakes, the kid seems to be only mildly annoyed.

“Fuck this, I have homework I still need to finish,” they hear him say.

They all watch, amazed and confused, as the kid starts gnawing through the ropes. Human teeth shouldn’t be able to do that so easily, but one bit after the other, and soon enough the kid’s got himself freed enough to just climb up the rest of the rope. When he’s at the top of the crane holding him up, Batman lets down a rope and pulls the kid up and out of danger.

“Oh, cool, you’re all here,” the kid says casually, as if meeting the entire Bat Clan is just a normal Tuesday. And then he pulls out a notepad and pen and hands it to Red Hood.

“Can I get an autograph? You’re dope as fuck, dude.”

Red Hood has to look away and hide his face in his arms for a few moments to not give away their location with his laughter before signing. And then, one by one, the others do as well. They pass along the kid’s notebook with shit-eating grins and barely contained snickers despite the fact that the Joker is still right below them. Even Batman signs it, after his children don’t stop hounding him about it.

In their distraction, they didn’t see the kid sneak away. He’s far away from them now, nearly right over the Joker. Danny waits, though, until the Joker has turned around as the timer almost runs out. They watch as he snickers at Joker’s flabbergasted look. The Joker comically looks back and forth and under objects the kid obviously isn’t under. However, before he can do or say anything else, the kid drops from the rafters and right on top of the Joker. He crumples to the ground, unconscious. The kid, however, just brushes the dust off of himself. Despite the fall he took, there isn’t a scratch on him.

When the bats join him, they give his notepad back to him, barely able to contain their laughter at the absurdity of it all. The kid, too, joins in the camaraderie, laughing and joking along with them as Batman secures the Joker.

“Okay, okay, but I gotta ask, dude,” Red Hood says at one point, looking at the kid. “How do you keep getting kidnapped?”

The kid just shrugs. “I get distracted easily. And I’m sleep deprived, so you know. Social awareness is kind of at an all time low right now.”

“Why are you sleep deprived?” Nightwing asks, barely hidden concern in his voice.

“Finals are kinda kicking my ass right now. Especially this dumb English homework I have. You guys wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“Oh, lucky for you,” Red Hood says, wrapping an arm around the kid’s shoulders as he walks them out of the warehouse, “I happen to know a lot about English. So, it is Shakespeare?”

“Yeah, Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

As they walk off, Batman calmly watches, though the rest of the bats can see his jaw twitching. Nightwing comes up behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“If you don’t adopt him, I will.”

“Hn.”

#danny phantom #danny fenton #batman #bruce wayne #dc #batclan #batfam #joker #danny is a feral human #dp x dc #dc x dp

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 6 months ago

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dinner prep engagement ♡

a/n : aaaand its finally here, the final part of the ring pop proposal miniseries after decades !!!! im sorry it took me so long to write this final part yall, i just finally felt enough inspo to write it and im super happy w how it came out ! i hope yall do too ! lemme know if you wanna be added to the taglist ! much luv xx

fem reader, literally pure fluff between mama n son, katsuki gets emotional very quickly bc i believe he does and you cannot make me think otherwise, a lil emotional but pure sweetness, mentions of making dinner, lmk if i missed sum else !!

this time, mitsuki has no idea what her son is planning. sure she’s had her hopes for years now, and her suspicions, but nothing truly concrete.

that is, until she gets a call in the middle of the night.

"katsuki..hello ?" she answers groggily, heaving a sigh and rubbing at her eyes. she checks next to her to make sure she hasn't woken her husband up, her eyes dart over to her digital clock " 'ts one in the morning."

"uh..hey." her son's gruff voice sounds over the phone, she raises a brow at his hesitant tone of voice, but she let's him continue "yeah, i know. sorry.." he mumbles out.

the older woman shakes her head affectionately "it's fine..is there something you wanted to talk about ?"

it's silent on the other end for a while until katsuki mumbles something. "katsuki, you know i can't hear you if you don't speak up." she scolds lightly, causing him to growl under his breath.

"not..not right now, no--just..can i come over tomorrow ?"

taking in her silence for hesitance he continues " it's nothin' bad..i just--feel like it's something i needa say face to face, i guess.."

"okay..yeah, of course. you know you can come over whenever you want." she urges "is yn comin' along ?"

"no, she isn't." she can practically hear his eye roll and it makes her smirk "she'll be busy tomorrow anyway so, not this time. i'll tell her you said hello though, since you're always tellin' me to."

she's about to retort when katsuki speaks again, only not to her. she hears what she knows is your voice quietly chatting with him as he reassures you that he'll be right there with you and for you to go back to bed. the soft tone in his voice makes her eyes soften.

never could she ever have imagined her katsuki ever speaking so softly to anyone, because her katsuki is, despite having calmed down over the years, still quite the brat. (she's pretty sure she knows where he gets it from now..) he's still temperamental when interviewers and journalists get on his nerves. he's still awfully moody , but he's different now. he's just a little bit gentler with the way he handles kids or older women who's cats have gotten stuck in trees. complaining that this isn't his damn job but still doing it anyway with utmost care as the kitties sink their sharp claws into his skin or cling to him for warmth.

he's a still a little rough around the edges but it's the thought that counts. he's different than when he was younger, but he still is the most different with you. his rough and gruff voice that he uses to bark out orders and complain, complain, complain, he uses so softly around you, keeping you as calm and sleepy as possible. it's not perfect, but he manages to usher you back to your room to sleep, and that makes the thought count so much more.

"m'gonna go now." he warns, his mother hums in agreement, telling him she'll see him tomorrow and he reciprocates the goodbye.

"night, ma."

"night, kiddo." she grins, a happy sigh leaving her when she hangs up the call and lays back down. cozying herself up next to her husband.

she's had her suspicions and her hopes for a while now, but she can't be too sure what her son could possibly want from her tomorrow.

katsuki comes back home like he's never left.

the day goes like any other day would've went a few years ago when he was still living in the family home. mitsuki almost expects her son to run off upstairs to do his homework.

he greets his dad with a half hug, and is forced into a tight embrace by his mother, which he grumbles about. grumbles turning into a growl when she grips his cheek, scolding him for not greeting his mother properly.

it's a lot of catching up from the few months he's been busy with hero work. talking about his latests achievements and his quick climbing of the hero ranks, accompanied with barely suppressed smiles and softened eyes when you're brought up. mitsuki remembers how nervous he'd been when he'd told her he was planning on asking you to move in with him, so she's happy to hear from the both of you, since she has your number and you like to catch up every now and then, that everything was going well. though she already knew it would.

katsuki volunteered to help with dinner, his mother happily agreeing saying she could use some help. it makes her a little bit nostalgic and she wills herself not to get teary eyed at how much her son has grown.

but she sees that the opportunity has presented itself to bring up the topic that's been on the tip of her tongue the entire day now.

"so.." she sings "you wanted to talk about something, right ?"

katsuki stiffens like he'd forgotten, although his expression stays the same besides the slight squint of his eyes. the rhythmic cutting of vegetables has stopped and it takes him a moment before he speaks quietly like he's revealing a secret.

"i wanna ask yn to marry me."

oh.

so that was it.

"oh." she breathes immediately. a broad smile slowly grows onto her face and she beams "took you long enough, ya brat !" she exclaims, slapping her sons muscular arm. he growls lowly at her, leaning away from her though she remains undeterred. poking at his sides while he tries to smack her hands away.

finally, she relents "when are you gonna ask ?" she asks excitedly. katsuki huffs, eyebrows still heavily furrowed from her earlier attack. he turns back to the cutting board "soon. i arranged my schedule and we'll both be free, so in two weeks from now."

"you already have a ring ?"

he grunts in agreement. and mitsuki besides being proud of the fact her hunch was right, feels her heart warms at the burst of nostalgia of her little boy. her katsuki, kicking his feet in the backseat of her car. tightly gripping his bag of ring pop candies he'd give to you the next day. her little katsuki, who'd proudly claimed he was going to marry you when he grew up in that very same car, exclaiming that he'd proposed to you with those very same candies he'd almost had a tantrum over her not getting.

her little boy, who'd gotten oh so big, and so, so much more enamoured with you.

"good." she utters sweetly, voice just a bit wobbly "good. that's great, katsuki."

he nods to himself " i've thought about it for a while now..long while." he scoffs to himself, eyes focused on the cutting board in front of him. "got the whole day planned out too."

"yeah ?" he nods. her eyes soften as he speaks mostly to himself, he's had this little self hype up habit ever since he was a boy. trying to calm himself down and reassure himself. it's a smart move, but as strong and mature as he is, katsuki is nothing more than human. and anxieties can creep up on the best of us.

she's seen it before, and she sees it again when he bites his bottom lip in thought, and she smiles softly.

and again, she coaxes him into it " that sounds nice, looks like you got it all planned out, huh?"

and he nods again. but it doesn't take him, long before he breaks.

"..what if she says no ?"

and mitsuki wants to laugh. she really does, because the thought of you ever saying no to him sounds absolutely ridiculous to her. she snorts. shaking her head while her son looks at her incredulously.

"katsuki.." she tuts, chuckling to herself before she looks up at him. "you've got absolutely nothing to worry about. you've got it."

his eyes widen, then her son's expression drops as he raises a brow "how do you know that ?" his words make her smile widen this much more and she really wants to laugh.

how does she know. she scoffs

she knows because she knows him. she knows her katsuki better than anyone else, he's her son. she knows he's rude, rowdy, quipy, temperamental and everything else. he's all of that and so much more.

and yet you still love him. you're still so incredibly patient with him, you still offer him all of your kindness despite him once confessing to her he doesn't understand how you do. despite all of the times he's messed up, the times he's fallen down, you stay by his side you care for him, you care about him.

she knows her katsuki is absolutely infatuated with you, he always has been. from tantrums about being separated in class and knowing your favourite ice cream flavour to him being overly protective over you when you were paired up with your lab partner that ended up not being him and to him wearing the stupid stuffy tux mitsuki tailor made for him to take you to prom.

you've always been his number one best friend, but he's always been yours as well : he loves you, but you love him just as much.

and so mitsuki smiles "call it mother's intuition. and, not to brag, but i think most of my hunches have been right by now" and it widens when katsuki scoffs and rolls his eyes at her boasting, another bratty little habit he has that he's practically mastered over the years. she sighs, spreading her arms out towards him "well come over here. you've gone and gotten so damn tall, i can't reach you myself !" her son rolls his eyes again, but he scoffs softly to himself and with a shake of his head, he closes the distance and hunches over to hug his mother. she wraps her arms around him tightly and he grumbles when she squeezes but he doesn't try to get away.

"there's nothing for you to worry about, katsuki. absolutely nothing." she repeats, rubbing his back. "you love each other, and that's more than enough. just be yourself, it's been working out for you this far..somehow." she jests. katsuki scoffs indignantly but they both end up chuckling about it. after a few more seconds they pull away and mitsuki pats her son's chest with a sniffle. right on top of his heart that she knows, she's seen, has gone through oh so much.

but still remained entirely yours throughout all the years and still so so so enamoured with you.

gripping onto his shoulders, she whispers "you got this." the glossiness in his eyes is impossible to miss, he's always cried very easily. but she guesses she mirrors his expression exactly. her son is the spitting image of her after all. she places a hand on his cheek and he leans into it.

"thanks, ma" he whispers sincerely. and mitsuki feels her heart soar.

"any time."

during dinner, katsuki announces the news to his father. who after getting over his shock immediately wraps his son into a hug. congratulating him and encouraging him with teary eyes, she knows where katsuki gets that from, before they all settle down to have dinner before katsuki leaves a few hours later. waving off his mother's insistence to pass you a greeting with a grumbled acknowledgement.

she shakes her head as her and her husband watch him drive off but her heart is full of pride.

"we raised a killer son didn't we ?" she giggles looking back at masaru, who agrees with a smile as they share a laugh.

and the next time you both come over, you're giddy. unable to keep your excitement in check as you keep excitedly looking back at katsuki, who finally relents with an affectionate sigh and you happily show off you're ringed finger with a squeal.

mitsuki squeals right back, wrapping you up in the tightest bear hug she could. masaru takes his turn hugging you, sweetly congratulating you both. of course, they'll tell you they both new in advance, but that was all for later.

sure, she didn't know what her son was planning in advance, but she had her hunches and her funny feeling from all those years ago that you'd be sticking around. she guesses it's good enough that she was the first to be told.

she sends her son a proud and teasing smile when they make eye contact. he rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face doesn't fade as he watches you talk with his father. she doesn't have to say a single word for him to know what she's saying.

i told you so.

taglist *if your name is pink i unfortunately couldn’t tag you :(( : @73isthebestnumber @gold24fish @m-inluv @katsuisbaby @teddiiursulas-ink @moonbabysstuff @brandydel @queenpiranhadon @chuugarettes @starieq @aishio14 @andysdrafts @hyunorue @touyasprettydoll @itsfiive @annoying-bitxh @h0nestly-though @atinytiredpanromantic @mikalame @itzjustj-1000 @deepressed @evam23 @erenstitanweave @m-0ona @chaoticgay13 @lotusstarr @koreluvsspring @giannitaa @waterstarz @nayeonsdoormat @the-crazy-star-12 @kovu-bunnbunn @kvk6433gkcigv @coolgirl458 @beekeepingageissome

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cosmicmunsonwrites · 3 months ago

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i care for you still

ex bf!jj maybank x fem!reader

cw — talks of a breakup, both cry, fluff, kissing, angst, implied sex

summary — after a few months, you finally decide to talk with jj one on one.

a/n — idk why jj just popped back up into my mind but i wrote this in like 20 minutes so excuse me if its garbage. please request though!!!

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

it’d been months of tense hangouts with the pogues, months of jj moping around, and months of your friends begging you to just talk to him. you’d tried multiple times but he was stubborn. every conversation somehow ended with you two back to the same topic of your past relationship.

it wasn’t that you didn’t love jj anymore, you were sure part of you always would. he was your first boyfriend, first love, first kiss, first time, first everything. he’d always have part of your heart. he was the one who taught you real love.

but there was that saying that went “you can’t love someone else if you don’t love yourself,” which couldn’t be more true. you couldn’t pin why or when it started, but you slowly started to lose yourself. your mental health began slipping, you hated looking in the mirror, and you wanted to do nothing else but rot in bed.

in turn, you started pulling away from jj which only hurt him more than you knew. it broke your heart, and it broke even more to have to break up with him. but you couldn’t just string him along when you knew you weren’t in the right state to be in a relationship.

after you’d done it, the two of you took a break from the pogues in fear you’d have to see the other. in the early months, it felt like you’d never get over him and the thought of having to see him only made your heart ache more. thankfully, you still had sarah and kiara to keep you company while he had pope and john b.

after a while, you both began hanging with the group as a whole. it was always tense and awkward but you still tried to enjoy it and not make it weird for your friends. on the odd chance that you were alone with him, he’d always bring up your relationship and ask where it went wrong.

once he’d received no real answer the last ten times, he just stopped asking. he had realized maybe it was better that he didn’t know. he’d heard rumors of you messing with other guys and he wasn’t sure he could take it if he found out you were truly with someone else.

this all brought you here at the chateau with your friends. you all were sat on the porch, besides jj who was sat in the hammock with a can of beer in his hand. you were completely zoned out and definitely not listening to the argument between john b and kiara about micro plastics.

you sighed and took a sip out of your bottle of water before getting up to use the bathroom. “be right back,” you told the others as you stood and opened the front door to go inside. you toed past the small piles of clothes on the floor and picked up some empty cans on the way to throw out.

you headed into the bathroom and turned on the sink, pressing some cold water on your skin to cool off before washing your hands and looking at yourself in the mirror. you chewed your lip anxiously as you just stared.

you had to have been in there for a few minutes, maybe five if you had to guess. then there was a knock and the sound of kiaras voice. “we’re heading out to get some more beer. you want anything?” she asked, slightly muffled through the thick wood.

“no, i’m okay,” you replied quickly knowing you definitely didn’t need to be drinking heavily tonight. you heard her mumble a quick goodbye before her footsteps got louder and the sound of the front door echoed through the empty space. you dried your hands on the towel behind you then made your way back through the house.

you stepped outside onto the porch, freezing when you were met with jj. “thought you went with them,” he said awkwardly after clearing his throat. his body stiffened and his hands fidgeted with one another.

“uh, no,” you stammered just as awkwardly. “i was in the bathroom.” you didn’t even know why you said that. he didn’t need to know that and he probably didn’t care either.

he shook his empty can in his right hand. “we’re out of beer,” he explained almost as if he were letting you know why he was up on the porch in front of you. the last thing he needed you thinking was that he was some weird stalker.

you nodded. “i heard,” you said and stepped aside to allow him to walk past you and into the house. he quickly walked inside and to the fridge in search of something. “are you okay?” you blurted out as you followed him in even though you most likely knew the answer.

“fine. you?” he replied bluntly. he knew you weren’t stupid and he knew you were definitely onto him. he closed the fridge door and leaned against the kitchen counter to look at you.

you frowned slightly at his cold attitude. “i’m sorry, jj,” you said softly. “i’m sorry about the way i treated you.”

he bit the inside of his cheek and crossed his arms over his chest, looking off to the side for a second to gather his thoughts. “why’d you do it?”

you almost chose to play stupid for a second and ask what he meant but you’d had this conversation one too many times to not know what he meant. only this time, you intended to finish it. “i was scared,” you began timidly. “i wasn’t doing good and i was scared to hurt you.”

“but you did,” he replied just above a whisper. the air was thick with tension and the house was so quiet you could hear a pin drop and every floorboard creak.

you pursed your lips into a thin line and nodded sadly. “i know. i thought breaking up would make it easier instead of dragging you down with me,” you said with the same softness in your voice as his. “but it didn’t and i hurt you. and i’m sorry for that.”

his eyes bored into yours, his once energetic, bright blue eyes now a more dull, tired shade. “why couldn’t you just talk to me about it? i coulda helped you.”

you could hear the shake in his voice. the conversations never really went this far, usually stopping the moment they started because you just couldn’t handle it. and here you were, beginning to choke up. “because i didn’t wanna bother you,” you stated.

“it wouldn’t have bothered me, you know that,” he said, uncrossing his arms and instead placing them behind him on the counter. “i woulda wanted you to talk to me if somethin’ was up. i coulda been there to help you or at least support you.”

you bit your lip nervously and looked down at your hands, now beginning to pick at your cuticles. “its hard to talk about,” you muttered. “i jus’ didn’t feel good about myself and i couldn’t put that on you.”

he let out a shaky breath. “i woulda done anything for you,” he whispered. “i jus’ wanted to be there for you.”

you heard the soft sob that slipped past his lips. the two of you were reopening old, unhealed wounds now and the unshed tears that had been pushed down for months were beginning to finally surface. you finally looked back up to his face, him already looking at you with tears in his eyes. “do you want a hug?” you asked gently.

when he didn’t reply, you took cautious steps toward him to give him an opportunity to back out before wrapping your arms around his neck. you immediately felt his arms lock around your waist tight and him crane down to bury his face into the space between your shoulder and neck.

his body shook with sobs as he cried into your t-shirt. it only made your heart break more and in turn, you felt tears finally fall down your cheeks. “i’m really fucking sorry jj,” you mumbled through your wobbling voice.

“it’s okay,” he sobbed, squeezing you a little tighter against him. “i forgive you. i forgave you months ago.”

you frowned and closed your eyes, just savoring the moment between you two. it felt like the world went silent for a moment. like it was just you two again. you missed this feeling and by the way he was clinging onto you, you assumed he did too.

you two stayed like that for another minute before he finally began to pull away slowly, still keeping his hands firmly holding your hips. your arms stayed linked around his neck with how close the two of you remained. “gimme one more chance,” he mumbled, his intense gaze staring right into you.

you closed your eyes and sighed. “jj—“

he cut you off. “please, sweetheart. i don’t want you to be alone. whatever you need, ’m here. i jus’ wanna be here for you.”

“you can’t fix me,” you replied honestly. “this is something i need to do on my own.”

he thought for a moment before nodding. “thats okay. you can do it alone. i’ll jus’ be here to support you.”

you felt your bottom lip wobble and your eyes burn with tears. you’d never really had someone like jj who stuck with you through your stubbornness, someone who continued offering help even when you consistently denied and subconsciously began to self sabotage. “i don’t wanna dump all my problems on you.”

he wiped the drop of liquid that ran down your cheek with his thumb before taking both your hands in his own. “don’t worry about that. just worry about you, ok? i got the rest.”

you shook your head. “that’s not fair to you, jj.” you leaned your forehead against his chest to hide your face when you felt more thick tears fall silently.

he brought one hand up to cradle the back of your head while the other intertwined your fingers. “if it means you’ll feel better, then i don’t care. i just wanna help you. trust me, ‘m gonna be fine.”

you immediately began to melt when you felt his hand play with your hair softly. you couldn’t say no to him, you never could. this was the man you were completely and utterly in love with and even after putting him through so much, he was still this soft with you. how could you just move on?

pulling away from his chest, his hand moved from the back of your head to your cheek, cradling it in his large palm. his thumb lightly traced your cheekbone as he searched your eyes for any negative signs, anything to tell him what he was about to do was wrong.

when he found absolutely nothing, he surged forward and pressed him lips to yours. you sighed into the kiss, months of longing and passion poured into one simple movement. his other hand moved from yours to your hip inside, squeezing lightly at it and pulling you closer so your body was pressed to his.

“fuck, i missed you,” he mumbled against your lips before kissing you again, slipping his tongue inside and moving his hand that was once on your cheek to your neck to gently press at the sides. you felt a little lightheaded at the action in the best ways possible.

the kiss was slow and passionate, something you’d missed so desperately about being with jj. he didn’t often rush things like this. he preferred to take his time and make you feel all woozy and worked up.

you could feel him begin to get slightly antsy, unsure of what to do with his hands. you chose to grab the one on your hip and slide it down lower. he instinctively brought the other one down as well and cupped your ass before laughing against your lips when you whimpered.

once the two of your finally needed to catch your breath, panting and mingling your breaths, he smiled cheekily. “how ‘bout we make up for lost time?”

you couldn’t help but return the same smile. “i think i like that idea.”

he wasted no time in grabbing the back of your thighs and lifting you up, heading straight for the guest room he claimed as his own.

#gracie writes jj maybank 🌸#jj maybank #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x you #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader #obx jj #jj obx #jj outer banks #jj maybank angst #jj maybank blurb #jj #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank obx #jj maybank one shot

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luveline · 8 months ago

Note

oooh what about hotch's sister calling spencer to pick her up at the hospital after an accident or something because she doesn't want hotch to know since worry and go into protective big brother mode, but spencer tells him anyway and they both show up and lots of fluff ensues :)

adopted fem!reader, 1.5k

cw for panic attacks

You should call your brother.

You think about it, even pull up his contact, he’s the first person you go to when you need help and he always has been, but lately Aaron has been so stressed you hesitate, clicking the text button by mistake.

You read back his last message.

I can feel myself being spread too thin but there’s nothing I can do to fix it, he’d text. I guess I’m frustrated. But how are you, working girl? New jobs are scary. I bet you’re doing better than you think already. Jack and I are super proud of you

You’d sent him a meagre response. You aren’t always sure what to say to him. Sincerity is easier in person, but even then, he can be terse and deflective; he looks after you and no one looks after him.

You didn’t tell him about work, and you won’t tell him about now. You call Spencer instead. This is a good way to test the almost dating thing, right?

He doesn’t answer. When you call again, he answers on the first ring. “Hey, are you okay?”

“No. Are you busy?”

“I’m not busy if you’re not okay. Two seconds.” There’s a pause where you assume he’s moving from one place to another, perhaps closing a book around his hand, or closing the lid on an early lunch. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m, uh, in hospital. I had a huge panic attack at work and I… thought I was having a heart attack, so I–” You’re so embarrassed your voice turns to a thread. “Sorry, I know it’s so stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, that’s not stupid. How do you feel now?”

“Like someone hit me really hard in the chest.”

“Are you calmed down?”

“Mostly.” You wince. “They want to talk to me about medications. Uh.” You clear your throat. “I want to go home.”

“Angel… I’m on my way, okay? I’ll get Hotch and–”

“You can’t tell him.”

“What?”

“Please, Spencer, he gets so worried, he’s worried enough. And if he finds out I had a panic attack he’ll try and make me take time off of work and that’s just another thing on his plate he didn’t ask for–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says softly, “please don’t panic. You’ve had a hard morning, panicking again is really gonna hurt. Try and think about things that don’t wind you up, alright? Is there anything you need me to get?”

“You don’t have to come.”

“That’s why you called me, right? I’ll be there.”

You can’t know that he says goodbye and ducks straight back into Hotch’s office, where he’d been, to tell on you. It’s not to hurt you and it isn’t because you told him not to —it’s two parts concern, and one part self preservation. Aaron needs to know and you need him with you, and he also can’t imagine things going well for himself if he kept the news of your stay a secret. The shovel talk plays in his mind.

Aaron’s shovel talk being, You won’t do anything to hurt her, said simply, and with an impassive expression that bordered terrifying. Not overly unaffected, just casual.

You’re laying in your hospital bed with your hands clasped across your stomach when Spencer arrives. He frowns at you in your bed, worse when he sees your smudged makeup and the chafed inside of your wrist where you’ve picked and squeezed at your own skin. Your panic has left a physical mark, your chest aching as you force yourself to sit, and it hurts doubly so when your brother lets himself in behind your nearly-boyfriend.

You don’t have it in you to complain.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer says, reaching down to give you a quick hug as you sit. “I had to tell him.”

Aaron’s hug is similarly apologetic, though much longer. “You weren’t gonna tell me?” he asks quietly, his hand settling at the place between your shoulders. “How do you feel now?”

“I’m fine, I– I really thought I was having a heart attack.”

“That’s common,” Spencer says, “it’s the feeling of impending doom, thousands of people mistake anxiety for medical issues every week.”

Aaron holds you by the shoulders. “It’s okay,” he says. “Was it a doctor that checked you out, or a nurse?”

Aaron probes the name of your nurse from you and promises to be back soon. He seems to have gleaned that the quickest way to get information today won’t be from you.

Spencer goes in for another hug when he leaves, and then, to your delight, a very quick kiss pressed to your cheek. He ducks away after that and sits on the side of your hospital bed, his knuckles gracing the outside of your thigh. “Thank you for calling me,” he says, smiling at you, and better when you smile back.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Of course. I know how it feels, okay? If they want to talk about medication it’s a good thing, but everyone has moments like this.”

“I can’t believe you told Aaron,” you say, giving a weak but playful glare.

“I can’t believe you weren’t going to. He loves you, he wants to know what’s hurting you, no matter how much stuff is on his plate.”

You bite the inside of your lip, contemplative for a few slow seconds. “You think so?” you ask finally.

The hair flicked under his ears wobbles as he nods. “Absolutely.”

You lean forward to readjust his collar and tie. He’s wearing one of his cutesy waistcoats, dark grey over a light blue shirt. His tie has patterns you trace with your thumb, like fish scales. “Sorry, I know you were working,” you murmur.

“I think my boss will forgive me.”

You let your hands fall. Spencer, perhaps picking up on a hint you hadn’t meant to give, takes them both into one of his and squeezes reassuringly.

“It’s harder than I thought,” you confide softly.

“It’s an adjustment period. But maybe it’s not right for you, there. That’s what started it, right? Your job.”

“I’m not sure. I don’t know. I get panicky about all sorts of stuff, but I’ve never had one this bad before. I was a miserable kid, you can ask Aaron, but I really thought I was better.”

He rubs over your fingers with his thumb. “I think we all have stuff that messes us up. Doesn’t mean you’re not better. You don’t even really have to be better. And I… I am here for you, I promise. I know you have no reason to trust me with it yet, but I’ll listen whenever you need me to.”

You think about kissing him. Spencer kisses like he’s suffocating and your air, it’s cliche and undeniably true. Whenever you kiss him it’s like a shock —he steals your breath, he can’t stop himself from grabbing your face, and any other time you’d love it, but right now you just need a peck. You’re hoping he can do those kinds of kisses too.

“Will you kiss me?” you ask tentatively.

He gets the memo on gentleness. You shouldn’t be surprised, your very first kiss was tame, his hand running up your arm as he encourages you forward. Your eyes shutter closed at the feeling of his lips on yours, and the exhausting thrumming that’s lived beneath your skin since you woke up numbs to a more manageable ache.

Spencer breaks away. He cups your cheek quickly, dropping it immediately when the door opens.

You shuffle backward nonchalantly.

Aaron gives you a sarcastic look. Really? it says. I wasn't born yesterday.

“They want to give you a prescription for Paxil, honey, what do you think?” He turns his attention to Spencer reluctantly. “What’s her best option here?”

“Paxil could be fine. They didn’t suggest a benzodiazepine? Paxil is an SSRIs, it slows down the rate of serotonin reuptake, basically increasing the effectiveness of your bodies natural serotonin, which could decrease the risk of another attack, but taking it won’t stop her from feeling like this,” —he frowns at your location— “very quickly. Ideally she should have a medication for general anxiety and the option for quicker relief if this happens again.” He smiles at you suddenly, nearly shyly. “If that’s what you want, that is.”

“What are you thinking, honey?” Aaron asks you.

You have the two of them here to look after you while you decide. You take Spencer’s hand gently, desperate for reassurance. “I’m not sure.”

“It’s okay, we’ll work it out,” your brother promises.

Spencer squeezes your hand.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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moonchildstyles · 1 month ago

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fig

pomegrante part two: y/n finally convinces harry to go out with her and her friends, but the night really starts when they make it home

wordcount: 9.2k+

—————

"What's for dinner tonight?"

(Y/N) peeked over Harry's shoulder, her hands landing on his back to keep her steady. There was a whole empty stretch of counter she could have stationed herself, where a well enough view would have shown her what he was doing at the stove, and yet she chose the option to put her hands on him and let him breathe in the bouquet of her scent.

His lungs squeezed on instinct.

"Jus'—uh—some macaroni and cheese. Thought it would be easy and all," he murmured, attempting to keep his voice even and mind from wandering.

It had been a week since the drunken night in his bedroom had turned into the morning spent between his sheets, and yet Harry wasn't sure he'd ever actually recovered. Every now and again, when a particularly vivid memory of her hand fisted around him came to the forefront of his mind, he was out of commission for a few moments, something akin to an aftershock racing up his spine.

(Y/N) definitely wasn't making it any easier to move past the intimate moment with the way she seemed to have completely forgone any kind of barrier that had previously kept her from being touchy-feely with him. It was moments like this—with her hands on his back in the middle of the kitchen—that had plagued him and kept him stuck on the week prior.

Most mornings now included a lingering hug goodbye with a kiss to his cheek. The days where he beat her home, she would make a point to come and say hello to him once she'd returned from her own work day. Cuddling on the couch during a show or movie, was something that no longer required any build up; from the moment they sat down, she was at his side with her shoulder bumping his and knee skimming the cuff of his own with every shift of her form.

Tonight, she held no hesitation before she was draping herself over his form, the warmth of her body sinking into him. Instinctively, he wanted to melt and relax, allow his bones to go malleable so that he could wrap around her the way he wanted. At the same moment, his spine went stiff, keeping him at attention as he was unwilling to miss even a single brush of her fingers.

"That sounds good, H," she smiled, decidedly much more at ease than her counterpart, "Do you want any help?"

"No, I've got it," he swallowed, curling his mouth into a smile as he turned his face to find her gaze already trained right on him, "Thank you, though."

"Okay," she sighed, dropping down from her tip toes and edging out towards the living room, "I guess I can just watch our show then."

He laughed at her exaggerated show, playing along as if she were the one doing the hard work for the night. "I hope y'can manage."

"We'll see" she sang just before sweeping out of the space and taking the butterflies in Harry's stomach along with her.

His chest deflated as a deep breath left his lungs. It was embarrassing to admit that, from just the smallest moment, his cock had stirred for no other reason than the fact that it was (Y/N) that had touched him. There was a part of him that figured that after that night in his bed, that he would have been freed from that lingering kind of desire; that he would have gotten everything out of his system and would have been able to move on as only her friend, but everything appeared to only have intensified.

That's why every touch and every moment seemed to make a larger mark on him. More often than not, he was transported right back to his sheets, (Y/N) tucked to his side and his chest heaving. He knew what she felt like—the touch of her hands, the heat of her skin, the pump of her heart—and he wasn't going to be able to easily forget that.

A furrow appeared in his brow as he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He needed to finish making dinner, and then he would worry about (Y/N) and what it meant that he couldn't look at her now without a rosy glow glossing over his vision.

—————

Scratching his head, Harry stared at his laptop screen. A spreadsheet illuminated his face.

While he loved his project team and enjoyed his department colleagues, there were times—just like this one—that made him wonder if he was going to be driven mad on their account. The equations and rules posted in each of these cells made little to no sense, he couldn't fathom why Tylor would think this was good enough to pass along an—

"Boo!"

A fumbled curse fell from Harry's mouth as he practically jumped out of his skin. Snapping his head to look over his shoulder as he roughly pulled his headphones off of his head, he saw (Y/N) giving him a goofy grin, biting back a laugh.

Harry let out a heavy sigh, his heart rate settling back to normal.

"Did I get you?" she giggled, her hands still on his shoulder though now her grip turned into a massaging roll.

"Yeah," he laughed, sagging in his chair, " Y'scared the shit out of me."

Her laughter only bubbled brighter. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself."

"'S alright." He shook his head as his eyes followed (Y/N) as she fell back to sit on his bed, "You're home early."

"Yeah," she sang, propping herself up with a hand behind her on his mattress, "My supervisor let me go early since I finished all of my reports yesterday."

"That's nice," he smiled, making a point not to focus on the fact that seeing her in his bed elicited a much different reaction than it used to. "What are y'gonna do with all of your extra free time?"

Something sparkled in her eyes then, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth though she made an effort to keep it from stretching wide. "That's what I came to talk to you about actually."

"Yeah?" A flush crept up the base of his throat.

"Yeah," she chirped, "I talked to Rue and Kim, and I think we might go out tonight. They're bringing a couple of friends and I think Kim is asking her roommate to come too."

"That'll be fun," Harry encouraged, pretending everything that happened after her last girls night didn't happen. "Y'gonna be here for dinner then, or do y'want me to save the leftovers for tomorrow?"

"Actually," she started, canting her head with a blink of her eyes, "I was wondering if you might want to come with me tonight."

Harry's mouth suddenly ran dry. (Y/N) had talked about him joining her and her friends on a night out many different times, but he never gave it much thought. He was never one for big parties or crowded clubs, even during his university days. He was sure (Y/N) knew as much.

He fumbled for an answer—a kind way to decline her invitation once more—, though (Y/N) seemingly met him halfway and cut him off.

"I know you don't usually like going out like this," she started, eyes turning pleading, "But, I really, really think you'd have a good time. The bars we pick are fun, I mean it." He watched as her expression shifted, a glint passing through her eyes though her smile turned coy. "And you could meet someone, you know."

That was the first illusion to any facet of the conversation that had taken place in his bedroom that week and a half ago. She wanted him to meet someone, still?

While Harry had been well aware that what had transpired wasn't going to, and didn't change a single thing between them, she also hadn't again brought up the idea of setting him up. He had figured that now that she knew his secret, that she understood why he wasn't looking to find a random person in a bar, or be set up through anyone.

(And, maybe there was the smallest, most minuscule part of him that hoped that, maybe, she was no longer interested in seeing him with someone else anymore. That, maybe she had found the same book he had pulled, and was working herself to the same page. A futile hope, he supposed).

"I don't know, (Y/N)," he sighed, bringing his knuckle up to brush the tip of his nose, "I've still got a lot I need to get done today."

He dared to match her gaze from where his eyes had skated over her shoulder. Her glittery, pretty, clear eyes didn't shy away from him. Her lashes flared when she blinked at him, a small gape to her lips.

"Please, H," she murmured, a small curl touching the corner of her mouth, "You're really going to make me beg—just for a couple of hours of your time?"

Harry swallowed, making a point to drop his gaze from hers. Beg? She was going to beg for him?

Why would she say that? Was she trying to make him fall to the floor? Light on fire?

A warm flush crept up his neck. "Beg?" he choked out.

"I will if you really want me to," she offered, amusement in her voice though Harry wasn't finding the joke.

"No, no, 's alright," he rushed out, sparing himself and his briefs the trouble, "Y'really want me to go?"

"Of course, I do!" Harry hadn't realized how the air had stilled, or the way her voice had dropped until she suddenly perked up. The cheer now injected in her tone was a stark difference to whatever it was that had been between them just a moment before. "I promise you'd have so much fun; if anything we'll get to have a night out for the first time in forever."

Truthfully, did he really think he was going to be able to say no? Especially when she sat so prettily on his bed and was willing to beg for him.

He took in a deep breath, as if he were taking on a heavy burden before he looked to (Y/N) with thinned lips. "Okay."

It was the joy and excitement that lit her up that had Harry feeling certain in his decision. He'd never had a chance.

"Harry, really?! I'm so excited!" She popped up from his bed only to hug him as best she could while he was still stationed in his desk chair.

He only hesitated for a moment, his limbs stiff for a breath before he succumbed to the warmth. Feeling the strands of hair on the crown of her head tickling the tip of his nose strung memories back to the front of his mind, the kind that had his heart plunging against his ribs just as she pulled away.

"I'm going to tell everyone, and I'll let you know what time and everything." Her chattering voice filled his room even as she began towards his door. "We should probably eat before we go out, but I'll let you know what we figure out." She paused in the threshold. "Are you excited?"

The way she was looking at him, grin wide and eyes bright, he was only able to answer honestly. "Very excited."

With one more grin over her shoulder, she disappeared out of view.

Harry had his eyes fixed to the door frame for a lingering moment. His lungs expanded at full capacity for the first time since she had barged in, his heart beginning to even out. He blinked as he attempted to get back to work, urging himself to focus on something familiar before he was going to have to deal with the deal he made for the night.

When she was sitting in front of him, the perspective of a smoky bar with her sounded fun and exciting. Now he was alone with the reality of a sticky, overpriced bar being his plans for the night, he could only hope that his original excitement prevailed.

—————

(Y/N) had her hand wrapped around Harry's wrist as she led them through the congested line in front of the bartop. He couldn't help but to mumble his sorrys and excuse mes despite knowing not a single person was listening. Holding up the rear, Harry could see ahead to where Rue and her roommate lead the charge, followed by Kim, and her boyfriend, along with Cora and her brother. The usual suspects in (Y/N)'s life; some he met back when they were both in university, others she met through work.

Meeting up outside of the bar didn't leave much room for small talk and catching up before they were herded inside, but it was long enough for Harry to see the surprise that crossed Rue and Kim's faces. They hadn't believed that he was really going to show up tonight. And, he couldn't blame them, even if it did make him feel a bit sheepish; he hoped none of them had an ill opinion of him because of that.

The so-called bar that had been chosen for the night was verging on a night club with the way the music was pounding loud through the room. There wasn't a designated spot for dancing , but it appeared the space had been made with the way there were few tables in the room aside from the bartop and the booths lining the room. The empty space before the DJ became the dancefloor, their warm bodies swaying and moving together. Other than strobing party lights, the bar was left in the dark.

Rue, thanks to a connection with one of the bouncers and a bartender, was able to sweep them through the congestion in the bar to find an empty booth in the back. It was secluded, behind the large speakers of the DJ. Harry was sure he was going to have a ringing in his ears for the rest of the weekend after this, but it was a preferable spot compared to just standing around while others pushed around.

"This good?!" Rue shouted to the line behind her (or at least Harry figured she shouted, he was just making do with reading her lips).

It only took a few nodding heads before the group took over the vinyl seating. (Y/N) kept him close, pulling him to sit on the end of the curving booth beside her. She grinned up at him, her teeth splashed in flickers of blue and magenta thanks to the lights above.

"What do you think!?" she bubbled, close enough that Harry could just hear the octaves of her voice.

"'S a lot," he answered, ducking down to hover his lips by her ear, "A little sticky."

She laughed at his words. "Yeah, I never wear cute shoes here. Thank you for coming, though."

The way she smiled at him made up for the sweat already beginning to slick the back of his head, and the way the soles of his shoes may never be the same after this. When she looked up at him with eyes sparkling, grin wide, he wondered why he'd never said yes to a night like this before.

"(Y/N)!"

Whipping their heads to look across the table, Cora's brother, Colin had his gaze on (Y/N). The planes of his face were highlighted under the beams of strobing light, long shadows cast by the length of his lashes and the point of his chin. Harry knew Colin was a good looking man, and maybe that was why he felt a pinch of jealousy sting the middle of his chest. Especially when he smiled at (Y/N) like that; Harry wondered if that was what he looked like when he gazed at her too.

"I'm going to the bar, what do you want?"

She rattled off a simple order, something fruity and sweet that he knew was her favorite. As soon as she finished though, she looked at Harry, brows raised in question. "What do you want?"

Flicking his eyes to Colin, Harry saw the way his lips thinned. Maybe it was because (Y/N)'s attention was spread elsewhere. Or, it could just be the way his face looked, Harry reminded himself.

Nonetheless, Harry met Colin's eyes across the table and shared his own order. "Thank you," he smiled, even if Colin didn't give more than a nod of acknowledgment.

He and Cora excused themselves a moment later, heading back into the throes of patrons towards the bar.

Harry didn't want to, but he had a feeling he was going to be keeping an eye on him through the night.

At his side, (Y/N) bumped him to grab his attention. "You're going to dance with me tonight, right?"

A smile crept onto the corners of his mouth. "I don't know, (Y/N)," he drawled, "Are y'sure you're ready for everyone to know 'm a better dancer than you?"

She let out a peal of laughter, bright and tinkling compared to the heavy bass rattling through his bones. "I guess I'll have to manage," she teased, both of them knowing the truth about his coordination, "I promise I'll get out of your way when people start cutting in to take my place with you."

Harry played along, graciously accepting her offer. "I think that's best for the both of us." With a moment's hesitation, he gently laid his hand on her knee. While (Y/N) didn't even blink at the contact, Harry could feel his heart rate jumping as if he wasn't the one who had made the first move.

Especially when she threw her head back laughing and leaned right into his touch, angling her body just so, he questioned if there were any others in the room.

As if Harry would accept anyone else's hand tonight.

—————

Bringing the small black straw to her pursed lips, (Y/N) bit back her laughter as she saw Harry move horrendously so to the music pumping around them. Tonight's game apparently was going to be one where they threw out the worst moves they could, leaving the other to replicate them and make them that much more uncoordinated. It wasn't the right game to play if they were attempting to catch anyone's eye, but that was far from Harry's mind at the moment. All he wanted was to keep (Y/N) having fun.

Rue, Kim, and the others weren't very far away with Colin and Kim's boyfriend having taken to staying in the booth to stake claim of the space. It wasn't hard to catch Colin looking (Y/N)'s way more than once. Even if he didn't seem particularly happy with the fact she had been sticking with Harry through most of the night, Colin hadn't tried anything more than watching on with a slight pinch to his features.

Just as (Y/N) was going to match his move and add on something extra ridiculous, her eyes lit up, flicking over his shoulder. Spitting the chewed up straw from her mouth, she crossed the few steps between them with a giddy smile. She gestured him to lean down for her, leaving his ear level with her mouth.

"There's a girl behind you that's been looking at you! I just saw her say something to one of her friends and point at you," (Y/N) bubbled, almost stumbling over her words, "I think she's going to come over here!"

Harry wanted to match her excitement. He wanted to look at her smile and offer up his own. But there was nothing about this revelation that made him as excited as she wanted him to be. Was it nice to be admired, and have someone know nothing about him and still want to get to know him just from one look? Sure.

But, if that person wasn't (Y/N), he didn't have much interest.

"I can leave if you want," she rattled on, "So she doesn't feel weird coming over here!"

"No, no," Harry immediately fired off, "'S alright. I want to keep dancing with you."

It was a simple admission, one that could be easily shared between friends, but felt loaded falling from his tongue.

"But, H," (Y/N) countered, "This is the best time to meet new people! It might be fun to have someone other than me hanging around, don't you think?"

Immediately, Harry wanted to say no. It wouldn't be very fun in his opinion, to retrace all of his vulnerabilities and secrets to be shared with someone else when (Y/N) was right there. She already knew any and everything there was to know about him, he didn't need to share any more.

His silence was taken the wrong way by (Y/N). A gentle hand settled on his shoulder. "If you're still nervous about what you told me, I promise you'll be fine. Don't let it stop you from meeting a nice girl." She paused for a moment, Harry's throat bobbing as he swallowed around his dry tongue. "I can still help you with all of... that, anyway. If that makes you feel better."

Suddenly, he could feel the heavy beat of his heart as it matched the bass of the music pouring from the speakers. What kind of twisted pep talk; one where she was encouraging him to meet other women and to not hold back due to his lack of prowess, while also offering to help him get some of those firsts off of his plate.

He took in a heavy breath, grateful that he could still glean notes of her perfume over the rest of the sticky, smoky scent that filled the bar. "Yeah?" he breathed, already getting much too wrapped up in the implications of her offer.

"Of course," she bubbled, entirely too bright for where his mind was going, "You don't have to worry about things like that. If any girl is worth your time, she'd never feel any kind of way about that part of you."

Harry gave a slight shake of his head. "No—um—I mean... Y'really mean y'still want to help me?"

(Y/N) reared back just enough to catch his eye, her half finished drink left to the wayside as she chewed on her bottom lip instead. "Of course."

It verged on embarrassing how just those two innocuous words were able to cause a stirring in his stomach, his pants needing an adjustment.

Before he had a chance to say anything in response, Harry felt a hand settle on his arm. (Y/N)'s expression loosened, her eyes widening when she saw whoever was behind him. She didn't say anything before she urged him with her hand on his shoulder to turn around, a bounce of her brows.

Forcing himself to turn over his shoulder, Harry found a pretty girl with lengthy brown hair and honey eyes looking up at him. Her skin was powdered and highlighted to perfection, her lips a juicy pink with blush to match. Her lashes flared around her eyes, like a cat's eye.

"Hi," she smiled, bouncing on the tips of her toes, "Sorry if I'm interrupting. I hope this isn't weird, but you're just really cute; my friends have been telling me to come and talk to you since we came in."

Harry wanted so badly to feel flattered. He wanted to feel a flush go up his cheeks and warm his already glistening skin. But, he just didn't.

All he felt was reluctance when (Y/N) excused herself, muttering that she was going back to the table.

"Um," Harry fumbled, forcing a dimpled smile onto his cheeks, "Thank you. I think you're cute, too."

It was true, the compliment. Though that was where it stopped. She was a pretty girl, but not the one he wanted.

She let out a sweet giggle, her drink sloshing in hand. "Do you want to dance?"

He couldn't help but to cut a look over his shoulder, finding (Y/N) sitting with Colin and Rue's roommate. An encouraging smile beamed from her features.

He swallowed thickly. She wanted him to take this girl up on her offer.

Honestly, he would have, if not for that smile on her face. As pretty as this girl was, she wasn't ever going to have the same creased by her eyes, the same crinkle to her nose, the same grin on her face. She wasn't the one that he saw himself readily watching reality dating shows with. She wasn't the one he wanted to end his night with. Not when (Y/N) was right there; not when she was the one he trusted the most.

"Actually," Harry started, morphing his features into an apology before the actual words even left his mouth, "I came here for a friend's birthday tonight; not really trying to meet anyone tonight."

The lie came out less than smooth, but it appeared that was all the explanation the girl required.

Her lips formed an O as she gazed up at him. "I see, no worries," she bubbled off, shaking her head, "I totally get it! Maybe I could give you my number or something? So next time you go out, you can just text me if you want to meet up."

Harry felt terribly guilty the more sweet and understanding she was. Rejection had never been and would never be his strong suit. And he wasn't going to be able to hone his skills tonight.

"Sure," he choked out, already unlocking his phone to be passed along to her hands.

She happily tapped away at his screen as she added her number to his contacts, a winking emoji stamped at the end of her name (Viola, he learned).

"Have a fun night!" she beamed at him before leaving to rejoin her friends.

Following suit, Harry pretended he didn't feel any eyes on him as he retreated towards (Y/N) in the booth. It was then that he caught the wolfish smile on Colin's face dissipate when he realized Harry was on his way back.

"What happened?" (Y/N) chirped, throwing a glance around him towards the woman he retreated from.

Harry shrugged, sliding into the booth at her side. "She and her friends are leaving soon. She gave me her number."

(Y/N) clasped her hands in a giddy clap. "No way! She so likes you, H! I'm so happy for you!"

It was cute, the way she bubbled his praises, as if he'd done anything at all to warrant the approach from Viola.

"When are you going to text her?" She leaned towards him (and away from Colin) with a conspiratorial smile.

Once again, Harry lifted his shoulders in a shrug. He dropped his gaze from hers, hoping she wouldn't press for more explanation when he answered, "Not sure yet."

"Oh," (Y/N) sounded, drooping some, "Well, wh—"

Just then, thankfully so, Kim approached the table with clear eyes, her boyfriend draped around her with his own gaze looking much less coherent. "Hey, I think I'm going to take him home," she shouted to (Y/N) over the music, "Do you want to ride with us, or are you going to stay? I think Rue and Cora are planning on staying until last call."

(Y/N) immediately looked towards Harry, brows raised in question. "Are you ready to go home? Or did you want to stay?"

He gave a small cant of his head, warmed by the attention she gave him. "'M alright with whatever y'want to do."

Before he even finished speaking, (Y/N) shook her head with a roll of her eyes. "No, H. What do you want to do?"

Rolling his lips between his teeth, Harry didn't stand a chance before his mind wandered right back to the offer she made to him on the dance floor. He... Well, he would never assume that (Y/N) would drop and follow through right away, though there was a higher chance if they weren't in public.

"I could be ready to go home, if you are."

(Y/N)'s features softened into a smile. "Okay," she said just before turning to Kim, "We'll go home with you, if that's alright."

It was her turn to drop a hand on his knee, a slight squeeze of her fingers around the cuff. That was all it took to have his stomach tightening and heart choking his throat.

Harry wondered if he would always be this easy, or if it was just (Y/N).

Hopefully, going home early would help him find out.

—————

Harry waved one last time to Kim and her boyfriend before they drove off. Behind him, on the small tiled space just past the threshold, (Y/N) struggled with her teetering heels.

"Are y'alright?" he murmured as he closed the door, the lock clicking into place a moment later.

"Kinda," she sighed, "Hold on." Just as he turned to face her, (Y/N) placed her hand on his abdomen. Her fingers pressed through the material of his top just over the ridges of muscles lining his torso, steadying herself as she carefully attempted to shuck her shoes off.

His lungs stunted, his eyes dropping to where she was just short of kneeling in front of him. The last time she touched him so low on his stomach was when he had guided her palm down his abdomen before she had taken his cock in her fist. The memory had his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly.

"Sorry," she muttered, looking up at him through the fan of her lashes, a curtain of her hair hanging over her features, "I didn't want to sit on the floor—I don't think I would have gotten up."

He knew he was supposed to laugh along, especially when she let out a breathy laugh as she was finally able to kick off her shoes. Kicking her shoes to the side, she gave a chummy pat to his stomach before she rose to her full height. When she met his gaze, her demeanor was decidedly brighter and lighter than the direction his thoughts had taken.

"What's wrong?" she immediately chirped, her brows slanting as she gazed up at him.

Harry forced himself back into the moment, blinking back into the middle of his home. "Um," he coughed, turning away from her prying eyes, "Nothing—sorry, I zoned out."

"Are you sure?" (Y/N) pressed, canting her head. Her eyes fell from his face and down the line of his neck. "Do you feel hot? You're turning red, H."

A streak of guilt trickled through his system. She was genuinely concerned for him while he was a moment away from allowing himself to imagine if she had actually dropped to her knees in front of him and made good on the offer she extended only hours prior.

Shaking his head, he tried his best to fight off the natural reactions his body gave when it came to his roommate. "'M alright, really. Jus' a little tired, I think."

(Y/N) initially seemed to buy his excuse, but in that same moment, he saw something flash across her gaze. Her concerned features shifted until there was a sly smile on her lips, brows bouncing above her accusing eyes.

"Ohhh, I see," she sang as she all but bounced on her toes, "You want to go talk to your new girlfriend."

His eyes widened at her accusation. What map had she used to get to that destination?

"Th-That's not—'M not—"

"It's alright, I get it," she teased, putting her hands up as if in surrender, "I'll let you get to bed. Just let me know if you need any help deciphering what the amount of i's in her Hi mean, or if the exclamation points mean she's flirting or just happy."

Harry swallowed, shaking his head. "'M not—I don't... She was nice, but I don't think 'm going to text her."

"And, that's alright!" she bubbled, realizing he wasn't planning on playing into her chiding, "I was only teasing. At least you put yourself out there, that's all that matters."

A short smile touched the corners of his lips. He wasn't very interested in putting himself out there when what he wanted was right here at home. "Thanks," he mumbled nonetheless.

Her expression grew gentle then, the look of a best friend who wanted to know what was going on in her companion's head. No more teasing was going on as far as he could see. "Why are you all flustered then? You didn't drink much tonight, but it's okay if you're feeling sick."

"No, I—" he cut himself off before he stumbled into revealing the truth. "'S nothing."

(Y/N) was skeptical, that much was obvious on her face. "Harry."

"(Y/N), 'm fine."

She canted her head, looking up at him through fanned lashes. "Harry."

"(Y/N)."

"Harry, there's no way anything you're thinking can be that bad, that you can't even tell me."

There was something in the lilt of her voice, the way she so innocently pushed to know more about him in that moment. Harry wasn't sure what exactly it was, but there wasn't much fight left but the time she finished speaking.

Truly, once again, he'd laid bare each and every of his secrets and most embarrassing moments before her. What was one more?

For a split second, he thought back into that crowded bar.

I can still help you with all of... that, anyway.

He could still feel the fan of her breath tickling across his neck. He saw the way her lashes fluttered as she looked up at him with clear eyes. He saw the sincerity in her irises—both just before in the bar, as well as when she was wrapped up in his sheets.

All of this because he had the breath taken away from him when he saw her almost kneel in front of him when taking off her shoes.

"H—"

"I was thinking about you," he rushed out, unintentionally cutting her off, "And, the—uh—thing y'said at the bar. About... helping me."

A look of confusion struck her expression before she seemingly caught up. Her eyes brightened, a near imperceptible drop of her gaze down his form before she returned to his face.

"Oh. Are you... right now?"

They both knew the answer to her question. The suspicion only confirmed when he didn't offer any response.

Her socked feet shifted over the carpet, the front door still only mere feet away. A small reminder that he'd not even fully made it into his home before he was taken by the sight of her alone.

"You want... me?"

The genuine curiosity in her tone was enough to have Harry's insides beginning to roil. Of course, he wanted her; she was the only person he can remember wanting enough to act this vulnerable.

"Um, yeah," he answered, tongue fumbling over the words, "By the door, you were... almost on your knees."

Peeking at her, Harry gauged her reaction to his admission.

He watched as she blinked, lashes fluttering. Her eyes dropped down from his eyes, skipping to his pelvis. Harry didn't have to follow her gaze to know that she was seeing the slight semi he was sporting through his trousers.

"Really?" she chirped, looking up at him through her wispy lashes.

Harry shrugged, only a single corner of his lips daring to give a slight curl. "Back at the bar," he started, "Y'said... y'still wanted to help, so."

He didn't need to say more, not when a light entered (Y/N)'s gaze. She tilted her head as she looked up at him. A sweet smile bloomed over her lips.

"And you've just been thinking about that?"

His smile turned sheepish. He didn't think this was the time to really detail just how often she was on his mind.

A sparkling laugh fell from her lips then. "C'mon then, H," she bubbled, taking his hand in hers.

Something akin to a daze fell over his body. Harry didn't feel a single breath of hesitation as he followed (Y/N) from the front door. All he did was follow her steps to their sofa, his eyes unabashedly landing on her backside and the way her skirt hugged her hips.

"You said you liked me on my knees, right?"

Harry didn't think before he was humming a confirmation.

"Then I have an idea for something new tonight."

It was then that she dragged him to sit down on the sofa. Harry blinked, unsure of what to do with his hands before (Y/N) took her spot before him. On her knees.

His heart was reeled right up to his throat. She wasn't...

With her knees cushioned by their plush area rug (one she bought into the equation when she moved in), she scooted towards him. Her skirt rolled up over the smooth skin of her thighs, revealing more and more of her, parts that Harry couldn't help but to imagine gripping and squeezing in the heat of the moment.

"Is this okay?" she asked, so sweet and kind. Her hands landed on the cuffs of his knees.

"Um," Harry started, his mouth incredibly dry as it fell into a gape as he gazed down at her, "Yeah—Yes. Really okay."

The smile on her lips was so pretty. It wasn't fair that she would just look like that, not when she was working her hands up his thighs.

"You're funny, H."

He wanted to respond, really. But then she started undoing the fastenings of his trousers. He could do nothing other than watch her manicured fingers unbutton the waist and pull down the zipper. His cock stirred even just from the slight brushes of her hands.

Goosebumps erupted on his skin when she started pulling down his pants. Harry could feel her eyes on him when he lifted his hips to help her along, the kind of warm feeling that had his spine stringing up straight.

The warmth was no doubt becoming visible on his skin, a flush creeping up from the base of his throat to the apples of his cheeks. His lips were parted, breaths coming out in quiet puffs as (Y/N)'s deft fingers crept up his thighs. The inky tiger tattooed on the meat of his leg was delicately traced with the tip of her fingernail. His cock jumped.

"You said you've never done anything before?" she pressed, her voice drawing him in as if he weren't already hooked.

Harry swallowed, his throat bobbing. "Other than what we've done, yeah."

"Okay," she sounded, her fingers now creeping under the hem of his briefs, "We'll figure out what you like then. If I do something that feels good, just tell me and I'll keep doing it."

She said it so simply, as if they weren't talking about what he was going to feel when she put him in her mouth. The feel of her touch under the legs of his briefs was enough to have his toes curling in his shoes, his hands reaching for the fallen throw blanket behind him.

Had it really only been a week or so since they were holed up in his bedroom? His body reacted to her like he was starved, hungering for even a brush of her hand over his bare skin. Had he really thought that having her once was going to be enough to get her out of his system? Had he thought that just one touch was going to be enough?

Harry practically sunk into the sofa when she pulled one of her hands from the leg of his underwear and instead brushed over the bulge of his cock. He felt the press of her hand over his length, the ridge of his head pressing into her palm. The catch of her nails over his thigh as she scratched down over his tattoo was felt through his body, his bottom lip being caught between his teeth.

He was only slightly aware of her eyes skipping up to land on his face while his own were trained on her hand palming his length through his boxers. The material began to stretch further as he stiffened against her touch, the cut at the front of his underwear pulling open.

When the first blurt of precum stained the front, Harry felt more of that heat creep up his skin.

"Sorry," he murmured, already anticipating the mess that he was going to have to clean up tonight.

"Why?" she asked, so easily with her eyes peeking up at him.

So badly did Harry want to answer her, but she also decided to hook her fingers underneath the waist of his underwear in that same moment the question was posed. His mind went momentarily blank. All he could process was the catch of her nails over his hip bones, the drag of the material over his sensitized length, the fact that it was (Y/N).

Her question was lost when they both turned to focus on his cock as it bobbed free of the confines of his boxers. The head was already ruddy, veins roping around the length. Thank god he had just trimmed up down there before going out.

"Okay?"

Blinking back to the world, Harry looked to (Y/N) with a gape to his lips. "Huh?"

Her smile was too pretty to be fair. Especially not when she was seemingly bracing herself from her spot on her knees between his legs. "You're okay?"

"Y-Yeah," he breathed, mouth moving faster than his head, "'M so okay—so fucking okay. I've been thinking about this all week."

Her brows shot up over her eyes, light flitting through her eyes. "Really? Even when you were talking to your girlfriend tonight?"

He knew, in the back of his mind, that she was teasing him. The way she said the word full of extra sing-song syllables, the same way she would have teased him if he weren't half naked. But there was absolutely no room in his head where he could find any joke to play along.

"I was thinking about y'the whole time," he confessed, "She—She's not you."

"Harry," she crooned, her eyes soft and rounded, "You can't talk like that. Not when I'm about to suck you off; you'll make me cry instead. And not in a hot way."

Unable to hold back any more, Harry let out a flowing moan. The gravel of his voice filled their home, disrupting the hushed tones they had been using before.

Why would she say that? When he was barely holding everything together, why would she say that?

He couldn't keep his mind from wandering to the idea of her blinking back tears with her lips stretched around his cock. Harry never wanted to see her shed any tears—especially over him—but this idea, full of smudged mascara and glossy eyes, didn't sound so bad at all.

His composure being something just out of reach, Harry didn't have a chance before he could feel the breath of (Y/N)'s slight laugh fanning across his heated length. Just barely was he able to force himself to peel his eyes open to catch sight of her pressing her lips to the head of his cock.

It was a gentle kiss, the same kind that she would plant on his cheek when in a particularly touchy mood. Not the kind of thing that should have made the muscles banding his thighs and blocking his abdomen grow exponentially tighter.

Harry tightly clutched the throw blanket at his sides, the material thinning against the force of his fingers. Nothing could have prepared him for how deeply something so simple affected him.

(Y/N) continued with only a small crease appearing between her brows. She kissed the crown of his length more than once, dragging the pillows of her pretty lips over the heated skin. As innocent as the act appeared, it was immediately stomach twisting when he saw the way the thin strings of his cum connected her mouth to his head. The gloss she had lost back at the bar, was back in the form of Harry's own pleasure.

Pinning his bottom lip between his teeth, he watched with clenched hands while (Y/N)'s own moved along the strength of his thighs. One stayed braced over the ink of his tiger, fingertips denting the plush skin in an anchoring touch. The other continued on until her fist was wrapped around the base.

A swift breath was sucked in through his nose at the touch. Once again, he was reminded that his hand paled in comparison to hers. No one else in the world could be as soft, as gentle, as firm, as perfect as she was.

Her name fell from his lips in crooning prayers, Harry sinking further into the cushion.

Though he was sure his lungs stopped only a heartbeat later. Silence fell over the house, Harry's mouth dropped open in a soundless moan as she took her kissing a step further and tucked his head between her lips.

The heat of her mouth felt scorching over his sensitive skin, her soothing tongue laving over him. Her hand at the base of his cock worked up and over his length in lingering strokes.

Why hadn't anyone told him it could feel like this? No wonder there were millions of videos on seedy sites just about this subject alone. After last week, he doubted any pleasure could top that, and yet, here he was.

Before he had a chance to become accustomed to the feel of her mouth, (Y/N) pulled away with a soft pop of her lips. She kept her hand moving along his length as she gazed up at him, head canted.

"Do you want me to go deeper? Or do you like that?" she murmured, her voice lingering and warm.

"Deeper, deeper," he rushed out, lips slicked and swollen.

She didn't give anything more than a short smile before Harry watched as she dipped her head and took him back between her lips.

A moan of her name fell from his lips, sandwiched between swears too jumbled to make much sense of. True to her offer, she lingered over his head for only a moment before she surged forward, taking him deeper. Harry felt hypersensitive at that moment.

He swore he could feel each bud on her tongue pillowing against his sensitive length. The gentle suction of her cheeks hollowing out around him. The coaxing of her throat as she swallowed him down the further she took him.

Saliva dripped down his length, slicking her hand as she continued the rhythmic pumping. Harry couldn't look away, but could barely keep his eyes open.

Watching her felt like looking into the sun—like he was going to go blind, like he couldn't watch for longer than a moment before was going to lose it. But, he couldn't look away. He was lucky enough to have had her touch once, let alone twice. He couldn't act like this was ever going to happen a third time. He had to savor each and every moment.

Even when he felt the tight channel of her throat closing around the very tip of his cock, he forced his eyes to stay open. Even when he saw that moment that had his muscles going taut with (Y/N)'s eyes growing glossy. It should have broken his heart to see her blinking back tears, but he only felt the winding of the pit of his stomach.

Twice in a row, he was not going to be able to last. Twice in a row was he going to embarrass himself in front of his ultimate dream girl.

But, god, was it worth it.

"(Y/N), I—"

She cut him off with a slight gag closing her throat, enough for her to pull off for a steadying breath. Her mouth was slick and swollen, dropped in a gape as she dragged in breath after breath.

"Sorry," she mumbled, continuing the strokes of her hand, "Scared myself. I just need a second."

"Don't be sorry, don't be sorry," he muttered, finally giving in and throwing his head back with his eyes screwed shut. Precum streamed out of his cock, vein throbbing "You're perfect, love. So perfect."

The breathy laugh she let out was watery. "Thanks, H. You're perfect, too."

He should have felt silly, having given out such rambling praise right now, when it would no doubt sound like the lusty thoughts of a horny mind. Not like the honesty that slipped out in a vulnerable moment.

Though, he didn't have any longer than a pair of heartbeats to dwell before (Y/N) wiped any and all thoughts from his head. The glorious, wonderful, perfect heat of her mouth enveloped him once more. She sucked around him, matching the tight grip of her fist around his base.

"Fuck, fuck, (Y/N)," he chattered, surprised he hadn't ripped a hole in the fabric of the throw blanket puddled around him, "'M gonna cum, 'm sorry, 'm sorry. Y'don't hav-have to—"

Pulling off of him just enough to press her pursed lips to the tip again, (Y/N) shook her head. "I want to. It's okay, honey. Do whatever you want."

Maybe it was the vibration of her voice echoing around his length, or the sight of her pretty mouth parting for her soft tongue to lick over his head, or the encouragement that she wanted to take his cum—whatever it was, was all he needed. The bunched muscles lining his bones finally gave way, releasing him like a rubber band snapping as his hips lifted from the cushion.

He unraveled on the sofa, a warning on his lips that didn't make it in time before the first rope spurted out of him. His lungs were stunted as he watched the first dredge released over her mouth, following the line of her nose and dripping to the shape of her lips. (Y/N) closed her eyes, a soft gasp falling from her pretty, swollen, glazed lips. It was only a second before she tucked the head of his cock back between her lips, swallowing the rest of his release.

She continued the stroke of her hand, working him through the throes without lagging. Every pump of his release was swallowed down by (Y/N), the motion sending aftershocks through him. The grip she held on his thigh, with her nails digging into the skin was the only bite of clarity offered in that moment.

The world felt so small then, consisting of only he and (Y/N) and the throw blanket he was never going to complain about being balled up on the sofa ever again. There could never be anything else worthy of his attention when (Y/N) looked up at him with glossy eyes, bottom lashes clumping together. All with the traces of his cum having painted over her face.

"What the fuck?" Harry breathed out, a slight bit of delirious laughter falling from his lungs as he melted against the couch. His head fell back against the cushion, fingers cramping as he unravelled from the throw blanket.

Pulling away with a pop, (Y/N) allowed him to come down without the distraction of her touch.

"Good what the fuck? Or bad?" she breathed, letting go of his leg with one final squeeze.

"Good," Harry cemented with a nod, "So good."

Sucking in a deep breath, he pulled his head from where it had lolled against the cushions. Just in time to see her swiping her fingers through the mess on her face, licking his cum from her fingers.

Maybe his head was still in the clouds, the lack of oxygen having made him delirious and impulsive, but Harry didn't give a second thought before he was leaning down and pressing his lips to hers.

He could taste something salty and heady on her mouth, but he didn't care. There had been plenty of times before this that Harry wanted to kiss her, but this was the first time he couldn't find a single reason not to. He was convinced that this was the only way he could possibly show her how much he appreciated, and revered, and cared for her after she did such an act for him.

Her skin was just a touch sticky as he cradled her cheeks between his palms, their swollen lips sealed together. The very tip of his nose grazed the bridge of her own as he tipped his head just enough.

By the time his head caught up to his body, he realized she had gone stiff, mouth parted as if in the process of gasping.

A string of curses ran through his head. What was he thinking? Is he stupid? Or just so horny and touch starved, this seemed like a good idea?

Just as he made a move to pull away, (Y/N) pressed forward, kissing back. Matching his movements, she tilted her head and pursed her lips. It was Harry's turn to feel the slight gaze of her nose tracing his skin. The creases in their lips lined up perfectly, fitting together like jigsaw pieces.

Now was far from the time to confess just how many times he pictured and wondered what it would be like to kiss (Y/N), but suffice to say, the reality was galaxies better than the fantasy.

It was a short kiss, lasting only long enough for Harry to hear his heartbeat in his ears before he pulled back.

(Y/N)'s eyes were bright as she gazed up at him. "What was that for?" she whispered, voice croaky.

Harry shook his head. He could go on, listing for days, though maybe that was for another time.

"Jus' thank you."

The smile that bloomed over her mouth was sweet and sticky, glossed by saliva and a mess Harry was going to feel more guilty over once his head was clear.

"You're silly, H," she murmured, tipping her chin just enough to peck his lips, "You're welcome." With that, she stood to the full of her height, Harry's hands falling back to his sides. "I'll be right back. I'm going to clean up my face, but maybe we could have a sleepover out here tonight?"

It was the way she looked at him, like this was just another night of bonding with her best friend, that was going to make his heart both bloat and break.

Harry nodded instinctively. "That sounds like fun, (Y/N)."

She bounced in her spot with a chattery cheer before starting off to her room, promising to be back in just a moment.

He watched her bedroom door swing closed behind her, left alone in the quiet of the living room. Harry made an effort to put himself back together, underwear and pants pulled back up though he didn't bother to refasten them before he started towards his own bedroom. He needed to gather a few things for their sleepover, and that was what he was going to focus on and not the buzzing of his lips. Not the way his legs felt like jelly, his lungs rivaling the pounding of his heart.

How much of a fool was he? He was never going to be able to keep from crossing that flimsy, self-appointed line that reminded him that she was nothing more than his roommate and wasn't going to ever be anything else. That boundary was miles behind him, unable to be seen. Not anymore, at least.

Not after tonight.

—————

figs are the roman symbol of Dionysus, god of wine, and priapus, satyr of sexual desire

ahhhhh thank u sm for reading! sorry for any mistakes and I cant wait hear what everyone thinks! any fun ideas or requests pleaseeeee send them in!

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