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yellowbrokenblue · 2 months ago

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The Club

Harry is the owner of a very exclusive nightclub, and when a girl he doesn’t recognise walks in, he knows he needs to have her.

cw: smut, exhibitionism, degradation

— ✶ — ✶ —

He spotted her from a mile away. Blonde bouncy curls cascading down her back, and her low cut top paired with a skirt that barely covered anything was almost too much for him to handle. He stood in the corner of the club, a drink in his hand as he watched her.

He didn’t recognise her at all, which was interesting to him as this was famously an exclusive establishment. You had to be on the list which the bouncer had at the entrance to get in. Harry approved of every one ever added to the list, but he didn’t recall adding her.

Harry didn’t do it to be a dick, or to act superior over everyone else. Making his club invite only had its reasons. For example, people came here for a good time- and it was not the ‘drink and dancing’ type of good time. He turned a blind eye to these activities, but the word spread over time about what went on inside. Not that it bothered Harry in any way. Sex was exciting. And if it made people talk, and made people more desperate to manage to get into his club, then so be it.

Curious people made him money.

He watched this girl longer, and the curiosity was clear on her face.

She was looking around, taking in the whole place, until she locked eyes with him. Harry’s eyes stared right into hers, sipping on his drink while her body froze in the middle of the dance floor.

Harry took the opportunity to place his glass on the nearest table, and walk through the crowd of people towards her.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked as he approached her.

He stood as close to her as he could, sliding a hand on her hip.

“Yes.” She replied, her eyes wide, staring into his. “I’m just looking for someone.”

Her voice was shaky as Harry used the hand on her hip to pull her closer.

“Hm?” Harry said, “And who may that be?”

Her attention shifted from Harry to the couple next to them on the dance floor. They weren’t even trying to be subtle about the fact the woman was getting fingered in the middle of a crowd of people, and the girl Harry had in front of him seemed shocked, yet pleasantly surprised at the same time.

Harry leaned down, his mouth brushing against her ear, and whispered, “I don’t remember adding you to the list of people who are allowed to come in my club, which is a shame, really, because I would’ve loved a pretty little thing like you to come in much sooner.”

Her eyes met his again.

“Now,” Harry repeated, “Are you going to tell me why you’re here?”

She swallowed.

“I’d heard people say things.” She said nervously, “I just wanted to experience it for myself.”

“Experience what?” Harry asked, a devilish smirk playing on his lips, “The drinks? The music? Or did you just wanna experience getting fucked in a crowd of people.”

Harry’s crotch pressed against her, his rock-hard cock pressing into her stomach.

She let out a gasp and pressed her hips against him, feeling her skirt ride up as she moved.

“What’s your name, gorgeous?”

“It’s uhm…” Harry tightened his grip on her waist, “It’s Maya.”

“Well, Maya,” Harry said, “Are you going to let me show you a good time?”

She nodded, and Harry was in no mood for time wasting, so immediately his lips were on hers. She tasted sweet, but the thought of fucking her was consuming him, so he began to grind his hips against her, a moan leaving Mayas lips. His mouth traveled down her neck, licking and sucking at her skin. He tasted her perfume as he kissed her, but even then it tasted sweet.

“You never told me your name.” She moaned as Harry kissed her collarbone, his erection still pressed hard against her.

“Harry.” He mumbled back. “Styles.”

His hands were exploring her body as his lips kissed her, and his fingers were slowly creeping up her short skirt.

“Listen to me, Maya. I’m going to make you cum in the middle of all of these people, right here, on my hand. And then I’m going to take you over to that corner and fuck you, because it’s all I’ve been able to think about since you walked through that door.”

She nodded in compliance, desperate to feel him.

He made quick work of finding her clit, moving in quick circles while she groaned against his skin. He slid one finger into her entrance, and then another, pumping his fingers into her while she moaned his name.

“Harry.” She cried, “Oh, yes! Just like that.”

“Can your tight little cunt take another finger?” Harry asked.

She nodded enthusiastically, and Harry inserted a third finger. She was loud, but the people around them didn’t care at all, everyone was engrossed in their own business, not caring what was going on around them.

“You’re so tight,” Harry said, “Can feel you clenching around my hand. I want you to cum now.”

“I’m close.” She moaned, her head falling backwards as Harry pumped his fingers faster.

She cried out as she orgasmed, her sticky cum coating Harry’s hand, and dripping down her leg. She moaned his name over and over, Harry keeping a hand on her waist to hold her steady.

“‘Atta girl.” Harry said, “You just came on my fingers in front of all of these people, bet it made you feel good, huh?”

She nodded.

Harry grinned, bringing his hand to his lips, and sucking on them. Licking her cum right off her fingers.

Her wide eyes watched him, audibly moaning at his actions.

“We’re not done here, yet.” Harry said, as he led her over to the back of the club, towards the bathrooms.

He took a key out of his pocket, and unlocked the bathroom specifically for staff, leading her inside and locking the door behind them again, leaving the key in the lock so no one else would be able to enter from the outside.

He could see her better now, away from the very dim lighting of the club.

Her hair was much lighter than he thought, a bleached blonde with her natural brunette hair creeping through at her roots. Her makeup was smudged from their previous activities, and her outfit was still as flimsy and revealing as it had been outside. The only thing keeping her top on her body was a small tie at the top at the back of her neck.

“You’re a pretty girl, Maya.” Harry said. “How lucky am I that a little whore like you walked into my club tonight?”

Her breathing was heavy, and her cheeks flushed.

“Pull your skirt up,” Harry said, “All the way to your hips.

She quickly done as he said, and Harry unbuttoned his pants, sliding them off.

He guided her to the other side of the bathroom, to where the sink and mirror were.

“I like to see people when I fuck them.” Harry said. “Can I fuck you, Maya?”

She nodded, enthusiastically.

Harry took her wrist and spun her around, so they were both facing the mirror.

“Say it.” He said.

“I want you to fuck me.” She said.

He grinned.

“Ask nicely, and I will.”

“Please fuck me, Harry.” She begged, “I need to feel you.”

Harry grinned, “Much better.“

He reached down to grab a condom from his jeans before throwing them back on the floor, and took off his underwear, letting his erection spring free.

He rolled the condom on, and grabbed hold of Mayas hips, quickly finding her entrance, and pushing the tip of his dick into her from behind.

Her cries of pleasure while he sunk himself deep into her probably could’ve been enough for Harry to cum right there and then, but the moans she let out of her mouth as he quickly thrusted were even better.

She gripped the sink as he fucked her. It was rough, messy. But neither of them cared.

He looked at her in the mirror, her makeup was ruined and her hair was a tangled mess from Harry’s hand gripping onto it.

“You’re taking my cock so well, Maya. So tight, my good little whore.”

She moaned at his words, and he sped up, desperate to make her cum.

The bathroom was filled with the sounds of their moans and their skin colliding, the smell of sex filling the room.

“Harry, I’m gonna cum.” She said.

He wished he had a video of this so he could remember her moans of pleasure for the rest of his life. He wanted to hear her cry out his name while he fucked he from behind forever.

“Cum with me, gorgeous.”

He’d been struggling to hold on since the moment his cock was inside of her, and as soon as she reached her own orgasm, Harry let himself release, pulling out from her and letting his cum fill the condom.

The softened nightclub music soon was the only thing either of them heard while the both caught there breath. Harry slipped his underwear and pants back on, and Maya sorted herself the best she could in the mirror, pulling her skirt back down and wiping away the smudged makeup.

“Where’s your phone?” Harry asked.

Maya turned to him.

“They took everyone’s phones off them at the door.”

“Shit,” Harry said, forgetting about the rule he had set where security thoroughly searched everyone at the entrance for mobile phones or any other recording equipment, and locking it up for the duration of your stay. It was to prevent any pervs videoing people or anyone leaking the ongoings of the exclusive club. “I forgot about that.”

“You got a pen?” Harry asked.

She shook her head, “I think I have an eyeliner pencil in my pocket?”

“Get it out, that’ll do.” Harry said.

She found the pencil, and handed it to him.

“Your arm?” Harry said, grabbing her hand and pulling her arm towards him.

She assumed this was going to be a one time thing, but when Harry began to write a phone number up her arm, she guessed that Harry hadn’t thought the same.

“I want you to come back tomorrow.” He said. “We’re not done here.”

read part two here !

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thatswhatmakesyouperfect · 2 years ago

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Little Freak || Closed RP

Friday nights were always Harry’s favorite night of the week because it was an early shift at work, then he’d pick up food from his favorite restaurant and head to the club where he would get ready for his show. Harry did two shows a night at Club Rainbow. He’d been frequenting there to enjoy the shows and about a year ago he’d gotten up the courage to try it.

When Harry was in the club he felt closer to himself, more free. He got to embrace his feminine side. Wear pretty clothes and glitter. His long hair that he’d been growing out for years could be styled in pretty curls and updos.

He’d found himself in drag and felt happy and also got to explore his art. He’d sing songs of all the greats. Gay anthems and songs that he loved while also being able to show a few of his own. One day he told himself he’d make an album. Just something he recorded privately.

Tonight he was debuting his new song he’d written. He always sang live during his shows which separated himself from other drag queens.

……….

After eating in the back room of the club Harry started to get ready to become Chelsea Buns. Being a regular he was able to keep a locker with costumes and makeup so it was easy to get ready there. He also got to see his friends at the bar. Niall the bouncer and Zayn the bartender would always bring a pre show cocktail. He had a family at the club.

After over an hour of perfecting his look he was ready and sipping his drink and discussing his set list with Liam at the do booth. Harry often walked the club before his set time.

@tommoloveshaz91

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purplecoffee13 · 4 months ago

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“Say you’re sorry.”*

Hey guys! I’ve been writing different parts of different series (new and current ones) but I’m still in the middle of all of them, so I wanted to upload this blurb in the meantime. I usually don’t add pictures to blurbs but this one was too perfect not to add, like… look at him. Anyways, hope you like it!!! xxx

Wc: 1.3k

Warnings: SMUT, degradation, lowkey exhibitionism, daddy kink, spanking (only once but still)

General Masterlist

Blurbs Masterlist

************************************************

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, huh? Disobeying me, hanging up on me, driving me fucking crazy? Thought I'd taught you well... why are you being such a brat tonight?"

"Just wanted to have fun with my friends..." you protest, letting Harry drag you to his car. Your stomach bubbles in excitement, curious to see what he is going to do to you.

Tonight you had had a girls night with your two best friends, to celebrate the fact that you were all engaged or married. You had been friends since college and couldn't believe you had all come so far. However, a few hours and a bottle of wine later, you all realized: you hadn't gone out in a damn hot minute.

Naturally, the idea of going clubbing came to mind. You texted Harry, telling him you were spontaneously going clubbing, but wouldn't be home later than two (you two were flying to your mom the next day, so you didn’t want to be extremely unrested). He texted you back to go to Mercy—the club which he owned—because he had arranged VIP and a limitless tab for you there, and also reminded you to text him if you'd be home later than three so he wouldn't worry.

You agreed, and so you and your friends went to the club. However, time flew by and before you knew it was 3:30am and you were still dancing the night away. It wasn't long after that Harry showed up.

Your friends had agreed when he said he was going to take you home and let her rest a bit before getting on the flight tomorrow, and asked if they wanted to make use of the Uber he reserved for them. Since they both lived on the other side of town, he figured that would be most efficient.

It didn't take long before your friends were safely in the car paid for by Harry. Then, it was only the two of you, and your fiancé wasn't wasting any time.

"You told me you'd be home two hours ago. We have to be somewhere tomorrow." He tells you once he has escorted you back to the dark parking lot where his BMW stood between a bunch of other cars. He pulls you in between his car and another, and pushes you against the vehicle. His free hand slips under your dress and past your panties. You sigh when his fingers come in contact with your clit and start to rub.

"I lost track of time!" You whine, shutting your eyes at the pleasure of Harry's touch. A shriek leaves your mouth when Harry slaps your clit.

"I called you five fucking times, and you ignored me. You're a spoiled fucking brat." He growls in your ear, stimulating your clit further. You bite your lip, looking around to check if there is no one here. Your eyes land on a bouncer, standing in front of the back exit Harry just carried you out of. You gasp, worried that he sees you and maybe thinks the wrong thing. Harry is quick to catch on to your worries.

"Don't worry baby, he works for me, he won't think anything of it. I own that club, remember?" He says confidently, and you let out a moan. The tone of his voice has you hot and bothered for him. Your boyfriend can be so cocky, and it's so fucking hot.

"Shit… Oh my god!” you whine as your eyes roll into the back of your head. His assertiveness and stern tone had done something to you, and being a bit tipsy always made it easier for you to come, but this was extremely fast.

“You gonna come for me already? How pathetic…” Harry teases you, only increasing the speed of his fingers and positively letting you descend into heaven or wherever it is that these euphoric orgasms always seem to send you.

"Say you're sorry, baby. Say you're sorry and I'll let you come." He orders. You bite your lip, jaw slacked as you try to contain the amount of noises that threaten to leave your mouth.

"Sorry— oh f–fuck!" You squeeze your eyes shut at the feeling of his fingers rubbing harsher, interrupting your apology. "I'm sorry, daddy."

There was a part of Harry that wanted to snatch his fingers away from you and make you cry for an orgasm until your eyes were all puffy and red, and then fuck you for the rest of the night. But he knew that the flight of tomorrow was going to kill you if you didn't have at least a bit of sleep, so he cut you some slack this time.

"Alright, come on baby, come all over my fingers." His rough voice orders, and he has to slap his hand over your mouth to muffle the squeal that escapes you as your orgasm takes over your body.

There isn't much time to come down from anything, as Harry is quick to take away his hand and open the car door. You watch as he steps inside and backs up his seat, giving you enough space for what you know he wants to do. As expected, he pulls you into the car, and you climb on top of him as he closes the car door. With the car seat leaned further down, he lays down and silently observes you. The cocky raise of a brow that says 'go on' makes your cunt ache for him again, and you are quick to follow his silent orders.

You unbutton his pants and whip out his cock, mesmerized by it as always. Harry smirks at you, still delighted by how starry eyed you get over him. You line yourself up with your fiancé's cock and push him into you. A sigh of relief leaves Harry's mouth and it makes you even wetter than you thought you could be.

Nothing but heavy pants and the squelching sounds of you bouncing up and down in Harry's cock fill the car.

"Oh, daddy! You feel so good!" You whimper, attempting to increase your speed. Harry moans out at the impact with which you are impaling yourself on his dick, and his hands travel to your tits.

"Look at you, crying for my cock, like the little slut you are." He notes tauntingly. "Don't know how to apologize in any other way than bouncing yourself dumb on my cock, do you?"

"N– ah! Fuck!" You try to respond to him, but Harry thrusts up into you, and the feeling of him so deep inside of you renders you unable to speak. Tears flow down your cheeks at the intensity of his thrusts and you aren't sure how long you'll be able to hold yourself up.

"Aw, is it too much for you baby?" He asks, following his words with an extra hard thrust. You hold on to the seat beside you in order not to fall forward, moaning uncontrollably at Harry's devilishly dirty antics.

"S– so much daddy..." you manage to croak out, and a mean laugh escapes Harry's throat. Your shut eyes open for a second, knowing you will want to see the beast you've unleashed with disobeying Harry tonight.

"Well that's too bad baby, because I don't give a fuck. I'm gonna fuck you until I've had enough, and you're going to shut up and take it, understood?" He orders, and when you don't immediately respond with words, he slaps your ass.

"Fuck! Yes, yes, daddy! Anything, please, I'm sorry. I'll be so good for you..." you start blabbering, and the sound of Harry's low chuckle vibrates all the way to your core.

"Yes you will. Now, bounce on my cock sweetheart, I never told you to stop…”

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daisyblog · 3 months ago

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Kisses

Our Story Masterlist Summary: YN wipes Harry’a kisses off as a TikTok prank.

Based on this request.

YN knew whenever Harry arrived home, he would greet her with a peck and cuddle, so it was the perfect chance to perform the TikTok trend.

When she heard the front door opening, she quickly set up her phone to record the moment. “Baby?”. Harry’s voice called out in the background.

“‘m in the kitchen bubs!”. She called back as she chopped up some vegetables ready to cook dinner. Harry entered the room, smiling as he saw YN and a sleeping Grace in her bouncer. “How was your meeting?”.

“It was alright…glad to be back home with my girls!”. Harry slipped his hands around her waist, leaving a loving peck to her cheeks. YN brought her hand up and wiped across her cheek with the back of it. Harry took a double look, wondering if that had just happened. Involuntarily, his lips pouted a little. “Did you just wipe my kiss off?”.

“Hmm?”. YN found this prank difficult, especially when she felt her lips twitch, threatening to smile.

“You wiped my kiss off…you would never do that…wait a minute…this better not be one of those TikTok pranks again”. Harry teased with warning as he raised his eyebrows playfully. When YN’s laugh filled the room, as she gave up on her act, Harry’s question was answered. “C’mere!”. He pulled her closer, placing kisses all over her face. Cheeks, forehead, chin, nose and finally her lips.

“Cant believe you worked that one out quickly!”. YN spoke when she stopped laughing as Harry attached her with his lips.

“Well usually you’re like…give me kisses bubs, you haven’t kissed me for 10 seconds”.

Tag List:

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arjudy224 · 2 months ago

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The Intern: Outreach Gala

Another uneventful day for Gotham's environmental intern...

Prequel: Death of a family

The Intern: Day one

The Intern: The Laughing Fish

The Intern: Busy Work

The Intern: Outreach Gala

The Intern: Visiting an old friend

The Intern: Chemical Valley

The Intern: Billionaire Boys Club

Gotham's public library appears unrecognizable under the cloak of night. Broad leaves shroud the outside exterior of the Gothic pillars while ivy cascades down the large door frames. Harris raises an eyebrow.

"How many forests do you think Wayne destroyed in his quest to save the planet?" He questions with a smirk.

Each grey hair is perfectly gelled out of his face. Ditching his glasses for the occasion, Dr. Harris may actually care about tonight's guests. The bouncer outside the door seemed to think the dress code was not a laughing matter.

Taking his extended arm, I roll my eyes. The security guy nods to the two of us as we walk through the door.

"Professor, if you keep saying things like that Gordon's going to question your stances on Gotham's resident Eco-terrorist. " I whisper with a smile. "....but at least 12."

Thanks to the joint collaboration between Wayne Industries, Goth-corp, and the Gotham Department of Environmental Protection. Gotham City is hosting its first Environmental Outreach Gala for the nearby tri-state area. Unfortunately for me, they saddled the newest intern to do all the heavy lifting. Young joints and all that jazz. At least I got an invite. The invites ran out before the IT guy could get one. Poor Eddie.

My heart flutters a little bit as a realization hits me. I’m actually here… surrounded by giants in clean energy and the scientific community alike. Award-winning journalists... All for the future of our planet. Passing my reflection, I smile thinking of how far I’ve come from that little river rat back at home.

A figure in the corner of my eye draws my thoughts away from the Grandma debrief. Dick Grayson, the Billionaire’s son, charms the group of ladies by his side. I take a mental note to find time to talk to him when there isn’t such a big crowd. It's been a long time since we last spoke.

The walls echo with the idle chatter coming from the rich socialites of Gotham. Waiters in tuxedos maneuver silently with a tray of champagne flutes in each hand. Considering, that most environmental professionals wear cargo pants from the early 2000s to work... the dress code was definitely a choice. I scan the room for familiar faces. Gordon flashes me a smile from across the room. I nod back. The Mayor works his way around the room with a large smile. It must be an election year.

My throat gets tight. I'm not ready for this. Looking to my right, I find that Dr. Harris has vanished into the crowd.

"Y/N L/N?" A voice calls distracting me from my nerves.

A well-dressed man strolls over. Something about him puts me on edge. Maybe it's his wicked smile or the large emerald ring on his outstretched hand. He walks with an easy air of confidence.

"Lex Luthor."

My heart does a little tap dance in my chest. The tight fabric of my rental dress makes it hard to breathe. I shake his hand politely. The party-goers go quiet around us. From the corner of my eye, Lois Lane, an investigative reporter from Metropolis, shoves through the crowd. So much for being a fly on the wall.

"I recently worked with a Professor of yours. She had a lot to say about your graduate proposal."

This cannot be happening. Memories of those long fights in the lab flash in the back of my mind. Mr. Luthor's cat-like gaze observes my reaction curiously.

I cover my face in embarrassment. That woman deserves hate mail. I could have at least been asked to type or spell-check it beforehand.

"To be frank, I originally chose the topic to get a rise outta her. Dr. Hendrix had me doing dishes for 3 weeks straight after I accidentally messed up a sample, so I wrote a proposal I knew she wouldn't like."

When I finally uncover my face, Luthor stares down at me with an amused grin.

"Even so. I'd like to discuss potential funding opportunities in Metropolis. If this is something you would think up out of boredom, I'd love to see what you can do when you put your mind to it."

That brings a smile to my face.

"Really? Everyone who I've brought it up to has been apprehensive about researching Kryptionian radiation.

"We need more scientists to ask questions Ms. L/N. Even the ones, that people don't want to know the answer to. "

The sullen green glow draws my eye once again to Mr. Luthor's ring finger... Wait, that's not an emerald. That's Kryptonite.

"Is this a personal interest of yours?" I ask slowly glancing between his eyes and his ring.

"In some ways."

An unspoken conversation occurs when he notices my acknowledgement of his strange choice of jewelry. The silence only creates more questions. Why would you wear something you know is irradiated?

"I hope to hear from you soon." Mr. Luthor concludes after handing me a business card, "There is always a spot at Lexcorp for a future scientist with your talents."

I stand there in silence watching him leave. The sleek modern design of the card lists only the bare essentials: his name, office address, and contact information in silver lettering.

Four hours ago, I was hauling boxes for the decorating committee. Huh. A nearby waiter offers a champagne flute from the tray. Respectfully, I turn them down. This dress costs more than my rent.

“Oh no. Thank you. I am… working.”

"Does work-life balance not apply to interns?” A voice interrupts.

I try not to roll my eyes at the "intern" comment. The constant reminders of my status are getting old. Starting at his perfectly buffed dress shoes, my gaze drags along the fabric of his black designer suit. Dick Grayson sure does like to make an entrance. With his dark curls and friendly blue eyes, his familiar smile knocks over my defenses. Sipping on his drink, he waits for my response with a teasing grin. His energy is contiguous. I ignore his question to ask my own instead.

“Has anyone told you that you tend to appear out of nowhere?”

His striking eyes light up with a mischievous glint.

“You have no idea.” He laughs, "It's nice to see you back in Gotham. It's been a long time."

"It has. From the rumors, you have been up to quite a bit of trouble." I joke gesturing to the envious eyes from across the room.

He raises a curious eyebrow.

“Good things I hope?”

Glancing around the room, I ignore the dozen eyes staring daggers in my direction. Academia can be such a bitch.

“Nothing too crazy: a few murders, unfounded accusations, and you might be an alien?”

Dick grimaces while tilting his head ever so slightly. He swirls his drink, yet doesn't take a sip.

“Sounds about right. Anything you believe? “

I pause... Do I play coy?

“I’m not sure an alien could do a quadruple summersault.”

Something flashes in his eyes that I don’t quite understand. For a moment, I wonder if I should have held my tongue. His suspicion morphs into the first genuine smile I've seen all evening.

“You’ve kept tabs on me Y/N.”

Before I can respond, a scream causes the ballroom to descend into chaos. Vines shoot out from under the floorboards while the native plants start attacking the guest. A woman with flaming red hair paces the floor. Her vines wrap around each person one by one…. A thorny bush springs out of a fallen leaf snagging my delicate rental dress.

Dammit Pamela. We talked about this.

Glancing at the bartender's horrified expression, I frown.

“I change my mind. I’ll have that drink now.”

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angie-likes-to-art · 4 months ago

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Fic Recs (Stranger Things Edition V)

All fics are fem!reader

Marvel One Two Three Harry Potter One Two Three Stranger Things One Two Three Four Specific Characters Tangerine Masterlist

New in Town by @galaxy-siren

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader Request: hey!! could you write a story where a new girl at school decides to nervously go up to Eddie during lunch? She gently taps his shoulder to get his attention to ask him something. ahh I don’t know you can decide what she wants to ask him! lol meanwhile Eddie is just “🤨…😍”

Horror Movies & Chill by @eiightysixbaby (18+ Only)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader Summary: eddie tries to scare you and gets more than he bargained for.

Satanic Panic by @hand-candy-writing

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader Summary: “you encounter eddie munson in the cafeteria during his satanic panic rant, but quickly distract him from his tirade.”

Happy Hours (Series, Ongoing) by @bangaveragewhitewine (18+ Only)

Pairing: Bouncer!Eddie Munson x Bartender!Reader Summary: When you’re not pouring beers and shaking cocktails behind the bar of Jackie’s, you’re fighting flirting balancing banter and bite with the metalhead bouncer on your break. A busy Friday night changes how you see Eddie Munson. Maybe you were wrong about the bouncer with his silver tongue and Bambi brown eyes...

Simmer (Series, Completed) by @upsidedownwithsteve

Pairing: Linecook!Eddie Munson x Reader Summary: “welcome to hawkins’ number one diner! where the staff don’t wanna be there and the linecook is a grumpy metal head who likes to argue with his boss and ignore everyone else. but the new waitress can’t hack the rude customers and the regulars can be a little… much.”

Pretty Eyes by @galaxy-siren

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader Request: hii!! ok so you know that scene when Eddie is first introduced in Season 4 episode 1 where he’s exclaiming out things about conforming to society, and he’s jumping off the table and whatnot?? i was wondering if you could do something where Eddie ends up bumping into a girl while he’s moving around so dramatically, and instead of calling him a freak like he expects, she shyly apologizes for running into him when it was clearly his fault. He’d be the type to be so confused and yet go “Guys I’m in love-”😂

Bruises by @lonelysatellites (18+ Only)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader Summary: “Working the bar in an underground bare knuckle boxing club, reader meets the new fighter on the block, a wiry, charming metal head.”

Don’t Call Me ‘Baby’ (Series, Completed) by @katyswrites (18+ Only)

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Steve Harrington x Reader Summary: “This wasn’t supposed to happen. That’s what you would both tell yourselves, later on. It had started with a bet. You were a cocktail waitress, studying abroad in Rome and working yourself to death to keep yourself afloat. Steve Harrington was a business executive for one of the biggest tech companies in the world, ten years your senior, and earnest enough that it intrigued you. But, there was only one problem - he doesn’t do relationships. Not now, perhaps not ever. So, a deal is struck - something mutually beneficial. No attachments, and you get to be his perpetual mistress, while he makes sure you want for nothing. But, what happens when the agreement becomes more than what either of you bargained for?”

Same Old Song and Dance (Mini-Series, Completed) by @m0llygunn (18+ Only)

Pairing: Bully!Eddie Munson x Reader Summary: “Eddie’s teased and taunted you for the last decade of your life but you’re not innocent. It’s always been a game, a dance if you will.”

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anomaly-hivemind · 1 year ago

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Horror Convention || No. 9 Gloryhole w/ Horror Characters x Fem! Reader

Kinktober Masterlist

Word Count: 1995

Warnings: gloryhole, free use, exhibition, overstimulation, large cock, vaginal sex, gangbang if you squint, vagianl fingering, mask kink, stranger sex, cosplaying oral sex, blow jobs, hand job, spit as lube, multiple orgasms,

You were going to a horror convention, it was your first one and you couldn't be more excited to go. You were wearing a slutty freddy krueger outfit excluding the knife coves because they sold out at the spirit halloween. It was too late to buy any online. You were wearing a ripped up black and red cropped top, a jean mini skirt, some stressed thigh-highs and wedges.

When you finally got inside the convention center, there were a lot of things going on with an unsettling low amount of security personnel around. It was a bit overwhelming but you were going to push through it just fine. It was full of cosplaying horror characters, new and old, popular and niche. Even horror shorts films, tv shows and games.

“Can I take a picture with you? I really like the freddy outfit,” the muffled voice of a guy said behind an old respirator.

Oh yeah sure, I like your outfit too. It's from my bloody valentine right?” you lean into the guy so he could take the photo. The guy pulls you close to him for the picture, then he turns to face you.

“Yeah I've had this for a while now.” he laughs and crosses his arm.

“Well it's super cool, practically identical to the movie.” you look him up and down, he was a carbon copy of the original.

“A bunch of my buddies and staff are hosting an event on the west wing in an hour. You should totally go. “ The Harry warden cosplayer handed a pass for the event. ‘Glory Horror’ printed on the card.

“Yeah I will be there.” you nod and take the pass. You can't believe you got an event pass for free.

=========================================================================

An hour had passed, you had bought a scream poster, a friday the 13th shirt and the regret of your shoe choices. You push past the last part and make your way to the event. It was a ways away from everything else which was a bit suspicious but not enough for you to turn around. You show the bouncer guy your pass and ID, because you guess this is an 18 plus event.

You take a seat in the front, the seats were really comfortable. The lights were dim and the walls around the panel looked sound proof. This was super fancy for a panel. It makes you wonder what's going to happen, especially with how fast the room is getting filled with horror fans such as yourself. Most of them were wearing masks from what you can see in the dark space.

A bright red stage light hits the middle of the stage. The familiar guy from earlier that gave you your pass to this event walks to the center. Two other people dragged something onto the stage behind him, also dressed up, one looked like Amanda the pig from the jigsaw moves or the dead by daylight game. The other person was dressed like the monster from Jeepers creepers. There was a large box with a set of holes of different sizes, odd but you find the tv and cameras placed inside and outside the box.

“Welcome to this year's Glory Horror event. Many of you who know about this event already know what's up, but for our virgin Marys let me explain what’s up.” Harry warden cosplayer says through the microphone, his mask muffling his words.

“We’re going to pick a lucky Slasher Slut in the audience to go into the box.” The man snickered as the crowd went wild. Harry looked into the group of seated people, presumably to find someone to put in the box.

“Anything goes when you're behind the veil.” he points to the closed door.

You look around the audience that you were in and they all seemed excited to either be picked or see who was going to end up being picked. You just stare at everyone in confusion.

“You, are you willing to take a dive into carnal pleasures and try out the box?” He points to you from the crowd, when you point to yourself he nods. You stand up, nerves run down your spine as you walk onto the stage. You were surprised with how excited every person in the audience seemed to be that you got picked.

“What am I supposed to do?” you asked while looking at the box.

“It's pretty self explanatory, but you get in the box, the cameras are already set up, we gave you a screen to see the reactions you're giving people.” You nod at him and step into the box, it was large and you could stand up right without being seen by anyone, not counting the screen that was broadcasting you to the outside.

“You can strip down any point and if you want out of the box just push the button to unlock the door.

“You want me to do what now.” you asked from behind the wall, your voice muffled mostly.

“Strip, take off those slutty clothes and either open that pretty mouth or a hole. Prepared to get stuffed in whichever you choose and you can switch at whatever time doll.

You think for a moment, you could back out right now but a part of you wanted to see what happened. With a shaky breath you take off your freddy krueger fit and finally take off your dreadful shoes. You were just in your bra and underwear, taking a seat on your knees in the middle. The bigger hole was covered with a black sheet.

A knock on one of the sides catches your attention, you turn your head and your eyes widen. A veiny cock filled the hole, making it look smaller than it was and it makes your mouth water. You looked over at your screen to see what you're working with, a guy wearing a Michael Myers mask. Your lip quivers as you wrap your fingers around his length.

His balls twitch as you tighten the grip on this stranger’s cock. You use your saliva to wet the tip of his dick. You hear the faint groan of the Myers look alike, it was hot and a turn on for sure. You take his cock deeper in your mouth, almost gagging on it, using your hand to massage his balls and or stroke the rest of his meaty meat.

Another knock from the others size makes you pull your lips off Myer’s member. Someone else had slid their dick into the other hole, the screen splits so you can see the masked figure. It was Brahms, down to the black messy hair, even matches the drapes decorating the base of this man’s uncut dick.

You take your other hand and start to rub at his cute dick. Both of your hands were being filled with their cocks. You were soaking wet from how hot this was and if your hands went filled you would be touching yourself right now. You placed licks on both the dicks one after the other. Even the thought that there were a bunch of people on the other side of this box, watching and listening or maybe even waiting to take a turn with you.

It was hot, you felt hot and you wanted more of all of it. You squeeze the guys dicks as you jerk them both off with determination. Michael myers’ dick twitching was the only short warning you get before he shoots a hot load onto your chest. Your bra ruined with cum makes you pout for a moment before you take the thing off. You put your mouth onto the remaining man and take him down your throat. Brahms cums down your esophagus, his seed tasting weirdly sweet on your tastebuds.

You lick your lips after pulling away the dicks both gone from the holes, making you sigh. You slide off your panties and just as you thought you dripped in arousal. You rub yourself and let out short moans, a guy that was looking like Jason Voorhees pushed his phat cock through the hole. It looked heavy, craving your touch. You touch yourself with one hand while sucking off this fat dick. Even if you couldn’t fit all or even most of it into your mouth you sure as hell tried. You moan against the length of this Jason.

Your fingers thrust into yourself at a similar pace as you sucked and stroked his dick. You come to a stand and turn around, your wet cunt fluttering with horniness. Lining your slit with a guy who looked like a slasher’s dick. You let out a hearty moan as this fat cock stretches you out. You could feel his dick twitch and the man moan from the intrusion. He bottoms out in you, your walls clench around him and then he starts to move slowly in and out of you. You rub your clit as your hole gets pounded into. Another dick pops into the hole in front of you and wraps your hand around it with hesitation. Peaking at the screen in the box you see that it's a guy dressed up in a ghostface outfit.

“Ohshit ohshit ohfucking hell.” you were on the verge of coming and the mix of a Jason hitting all your spots with his girth was making it harder to focus on stroking the guy in front of you.

You try your best to get the other guy to completion but your own impending orgasm was a bit of a distraction to say the least. This Jason guy’s thrust was getting relentless and it was super hot to say the least. You hold on for as long as you could but when you feel the man’s load start to pool down your leg sends you down the edge. Before you could complain about how fast the guy pulled out another guy pushed into you, somehow even thicker and longer than the Jason guy.

You squeeze the hell out of the ghostface and your thumb pushes on his slit. It makes the guy come all over you and hand it a messy gush. The new masked covered hottie was fast enough to work you past that previous orgasm but Jason had given you but now you were getting a bit overstimulated. The faint tapping of the man's pyramid helmet on the box wall makes you giggle. Yet the humor in all of this was cut short from the brutal thrust this pyramid head was giving you.

You were already about to fall into another climax, you couldn't help but scream out a moan that you're sure everyone in the panel heard. Maybe even people outside nearby could hear your whorish moans and whales. This massive curved dick was rubbing your insides just right and your lower half couldn't take much more of it, not standing up like you are right now at least. You reach another chaotic mind altering, pussy spasming, leg trembling, back arching, toe curling climax that almost gives you whiplash an.

You feel the sticky seed fill your cunt and pull out with lackluster pace, almost like he didn’t want to leave your warmth so it takes a minute or so before he actually does . When the pyramid head finally pulls out, your body drops to the stage ground with a thud. You were panting like a dog, cum was dripping out of you and sticking to your thighs. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you try to catch your breath.

“This is the best Horror con ever.” you say breathlessly, as you look at another dick slipping into one of the holes. Checking your provided inside the box you see who it is, the host of this event… it’s Harry warden.

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lxnababy · 9 months ago

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bouncer!harry one shot incoming..................

(soon)

#harry styles #bouncer!harry

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ak-vintage · 2 months ago

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Sins of the Flesh

Pairing: Incubus!Pero Tovar x f!Reader

Summary: After multiple chance encounters with a mysterious stranger, you begin having the most unsettling dreams.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI! PLEASE read the warnings! Spooky, potentially disturbing or triggering for some readers. Inspired by gothic horror. Pero is a literal demon – not a good guy and a certified creep. Stalking behaviors, intimidation, manipulation, the conflation of fear and arousal, implications of somnophilia, masturbation (f), choking in a sexual context, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected P in V sex.

Word Count: 8.3K

Written for Monster (S)Mash hosted by @quinnnfabrgay-writes and @hauntedhowlett-writes

Huge thank-you to @kilamonster for her expert beta reading and Spanish translation skills! Love you so much, babe!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Incubus – derived from the Latin incubus (“nightmare”) and incubare (“to lie upon, weigh upon, brood”); a demon in male form that seeks to have sexual intercourse with sleeping women

The first time you notice him, the sun is shining. The haze of late summer still lingers in the air, and the afternoon heat makes sweat bloom in the small of your back, making your blouse cling to your skin as you wait in line at your favorite coffee shop. You had given up on your hair hours ago, piling it up onto the top of your head, and as you stare down at your phone, killing time, you feel a prickle of awareness skate across the bare skin on the back of your neck.

It’s almost like a caress – a real, physical thing – but when you whip around to give whoever had touched you so intimately a piece of your mind, you find…no one. You’re the last person in line at this particular register. There is no one behind you.

Except for him.

Several feet away – much too far to reach you – stands a man, tall and broad-shouldered with long, powerful limbs and dressed head-to-toe in black in spite of the heat. He is leaning heavily back against the far wall, right next to the entrance to the café, and he has his arms crossed over his chest in a gesture that somehow reads as both nonchalant and intimidating. The thought strikes you that he looks almost like a bouncer outside a club, a persona that doesn’t quite fit with the glaring afternoon sun streaming through the windows in this lively, crowded coffee shop.

You feel your brow knit together as you take him in. He’s absurdly handsome, in a rakish, almost dangerous sort of way – all dark hair, dark eyes, dark moustache. He has a scar over his left eye, faintly pink and puckered in a way that splits his eyebrow in two and tugs a bit at the golden tanned skin of his cheekbone, and on his full, slightly downturned mouth plays a knowing little smirk.

He’s too far away to have touched you. You are certain of it. And yet…

Something in his dark eyes flashes as he meets your gaze – like the strike of flint, like the spark of a match. His smirk widens, and you barely notice yourself taking a step toward him.

“Miss. MISS.”

The sound of the harried barista’s voice snaps you out of whatever reverie the strange man had inspired in you, and you spin around to find her staring at you with poorly-disguised exasperation.

The line in front of you has dwindled. You’re next, and you’re so far away from the counter, you might as well not even be in line anymore.

Embarrassment darkening your cheeks, you quickly approach the register with an effusive apology on your tongue, and the mysterious man behind you is forgotten.

That night, a pair of midnight-dark eyes follows you in your dreams – always watching, unblinking, just on the edge of your vision. They disappear when you try to seek them out, and when you gasp yourself awake before the sun rises, you swear you can feel the lingering heat of a broad, thick-fingered hand cupped around the base of your throat.

The clock on your bedside table reads 3:00 AM.

The next time you see him, the sky is a pale gray, overcast and dreary as autumn solidifies its grip on the atmosphere. You’re laden with shopping bags, having spent most of the day galivanting around the city with a friend who is visiting you from out of town, and the two of you decide to make one final stop on the way back to your apartment – a cramped little hidden gem of a used bookshop. Your differing tastes lead you to split up almost immediately upon entering, your friend heading straight for the lit fic while you dive into the fantasy section, and before you know it, you’re several densely-packed aisles away from your companion, tucked into the back corner of the dusty shop and surrounded on all sides by ceiling-high shelves.

It's dim here and almost completely silent, the classical music pumped through a speaker at the front of the store not loud enough to penetrate this far back, but you hardly notice – you’re surrounded by books, and you can’t imagine any place more comfortable. Shuffling your bags from arm to arm, lower lip between your teeth, you thumb through the endless volumes contentedly, happy to browse until something catches your eye.

So absorbed are you in your task that in spite of the quiet, you don’t hear him approach until a low, accented voice brushes your ears from mere inches behind you.

“Might I recommend…this one?”

You startle at the sound and turn to find the same man from the coffee shop – the one with the dangerous smirk and the scar over his eye – hovering just behind you, a well-worn book bound in oxblood leather in his hand. He offers it to you with an arch of his brow, and you find yourself backing into the nearest bookshelf in a futile attempt to put a bit of space between you. The moment you recognize him, it must show on your face, as his smirk morphs into a sharp, white smile that doesn’t fully reach his eyes.

“Dulzura,” he murmurs, and you feel goosebumps bloom across your skin at the unexpected endearment. “I already have a copy, and I know you’ll enjoy it. Por favor.”

Glancing between his dark, shadowed eyes and the anonymous book in his hand, you reluctantly reach out and take it. The leather is oddly warm beneath your fingers, the thing weightier than it looks, and as you bring it closer to examine it, the faint overhead light glints off the golden, embossed title pressed into the front cover.

Sins of the Flesh.

A lurid flush rises in your cheeks as you glance back up at the strange man, his broad form still lingering a bit too close to you to be polite, and you notice for the first time that he is wearing the exact same outfit he was wearing the last time you saw him in the coffee shop.

“I, uh,” you stammer, your throat suddenly dry. “I haven’t heard of this one.”

He shrugs, tucking his large hands into the pockets of his black jeans. “This does not surprise me, dulzura – it is very old. But you would be astonished at how well it holds up to a more…modern palate.”

Your eyes narrow, and you pray he cannot hear the way your heart has begun to throb against your ribcage, the way your breath has picked up in your chest. Your body cannot decide how it feels about this man, whether it is uneasy or aroused. He’s so close you can smell his cologne, something smokey and metallic and almost aggressively masculine, and you aren’t sure whether you want to tuck your face into his neck and inhale or flee the shop and pray he doesn’t follow.

Instead, you do neither and ask, “W-What’s it about?”

Just like in the coffee shop all those weeks ago, his obsidian eyes flash, and you watch as the tip of his tongue flicks out to wet his plush bottom lip. “Ancient things,” he replies after a moment of tense silence. His accent, warm and gruff, wraps around the words like crushed velvet, and you suppress a shiver. “Magic. Strange creatures. The eternal battle between good – ” He drags his gaze from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and back again, settling on your flushed face with a look that is almost predatory. “ – and evil.”

You swallow thickly and clear your throat. Tearing your eyes away from his feels nearly impossible, but you do it, choosing instead to stare at your feet. “I’ll, uh. I’ll have to check it out,” you say noncommittally, praying that your voice doesn’t tremble, praying that he cannot hear the way he has affected you as plainly as you can.

You’re on edge. Deeply uncomfortable. Not quite afraid, but nearly.

And you’re wet.

“As I said, my dear. I know you will enjoy it.”

Your deepest muscles clench, and with a tight, polite smile, you nod. “Thanks for the suggestion. Have a good night.”

His teeth gleam in the dim lighting at that. “I certainly plan to, dulzura,” he murmurs silkily, and every instinct that has been telling you to run from the moment you laid eyes on him is suddenly screaming at you, too loud and intrusive to ignore. You retreat down the aisle as quickly as you can manage, arms still heavy with your many shopping bags that knock clumsily into the shelves as you escape, but you do not let it deter you. You swear you can feel his gaze burning the skin on the back of your neck as you go.

It isn’t until you arrive back at your apartment nearly an hour later that you realize – when you left the shop, you took the book with you.

That night, those coal-black eyes once again haunt your dreams, though this time, they are accompanied by a voice. Low, warm, and lilting with an accent you can’t place, the voice whispers to you. You can’t make out the exact words, but you know they make your heart race and your blood run hot. They sound…possessive. Intimate. Knowing, as though the owner of the voice had reached behind your sternum and cracked open your chest, peaking and prying and assessing every delicate, fragile piece of you.

You feel hands on your throat again, not squeezing, not choking, just holding.

You feel soft lips brushing the underside of your breasts, hot breath dampening your thighs.

You feel a slick, soft tongue tracing the vulnerable crease behind your knees and the throbbing pulse point of your wrists.

When your visiting friend practically yanks you from your sleep, shaking your shoulders and calling your name, you catapult into consciousness drenched in sweat and more aroused than you have ever been in your life. Your hard nipples drag painfully against the soft cotton of your oversized T-shirt, and your panties cling wetly to your pussy lips like a second skin, utterly ruined.

It takes several minutes for you to finally convince your friend that you’re fine, that it was just a nightmare, that it’s okay for her to go back to sleep. She retreats back into your living room with one last concerned glance over her shoulder, and you stifle a sigh of relief as the door shuts behind her.

Alone again, the clock on your nightstand reads 3:08 AM as you shove your hand beneath the waistband of your panties. By 3:10, you are muffling your whines in your pillow as you bring yourself over the edge.

The third time you notice him, you’re lingering under the awning outside your favorite wine bar, hugging the coarse brick of the exterior in an attempt to keep out of the late-night rain as you wait for your ride share. You had planned to meet a date here, a man you had discovered while swiping through your app of choice one night a week or so ago when the weight of your seemingly eternal singlehood had felt particularly poignant. He had been nice enough over text, if a bit bland, but when you had asked him if he had any interest in meeting in person, he had agreed readily.

You had sat at the bar alone for well over an hour, draining one too many glasses of malbec, before you received a single text.

not gonna make it tonite sry

You had promptly unmatched with him and blocked his number. You didn’t have time for that kind of shit.

Now, the ride share app on your phone tells you that your driver is 10 minutes away, and you wish you had thought to wait to give up your seat at the bar until he was a bit closer. As it is, the place is packed. There is nowhere for you to be if you go back inside, so braving the autumnal rain seems to be your only option.

Hair and skin damp, nose running with the chill of the late October night, you wrap your arms protectively around your body as a dark, mysterious figure comes into view down the street. Taking up most of the unoccupied sidewalk with his bulk, he carries a large black golf umbrella, the gunmetal handle gleaming in the watery light of the streetlamps, and he wears a black leather jacket zipped up tight against the cold. The moment he spots you, his handsome features break into a leonine grin, and you feel that familiar pull deep in your gut. The fear laced with desire, the unease stifled by want.

By the time he reaches you, the rain has picked up, and you are no longer protected by the shallow awning. An involuntary shiver wracks your frame, and you aren’t certain whether to blame your rapidly dampening jacket or the shrewd, dark eyes of the man before you.

“Come, dulzura. Join me,” he beckons with an arched brow. The scar over his eye tugs with the gesture, and you notice for the first time that he appears to be wearing eyeliner – a thin layer of kohl darkening his already enviable black lashes. On anyone else, you might find it a bit over-the-top, but on this dark stranger, it only adds to the air of danger surrounding him.

“You will surely melt in all this rain,” he adds when you do not respond. “Let me share my shelter with you.”

You almost obey, almost pull yourself away from the wall behind you and step into his open arms beneath the generous cover of his umbrella. But before you can succumb to the draw of him, a car drives by – too fast for the weather and the late hour – and flings a shower of rainwater up onto the sidewalk, soaking the backs of his calves and drenching your feet. The icy deluge pulls you out of his thrall, and you resist the urge to dig the tips of your fingers into the brick at your back to anchor you there.

“Who are you?” you ask, feeling a brief surge of victory at the steadiness of your voice, the way you manage not to stammer. “What do you want with me?”

This surprises a laugh out of him, the sound dry and low and deep in his chest. “What a question,” he rasps. “Cariño, have you considered that perhaps it is you who wants something from me?”

For the first time in weeks, you recall the dream you had after that day at the bookshop. The dark eyes, the strong hands, the tempting, maddening voice, the way they all had seeped into your pores and flushed through your bloodstream like a drug. You feel your cunt bottom out at the memory, thighs squeezing together in an unconscious search for friction, and you think you ought to be embarrassed by your body’s entirely disproportionate reaction to him. But you aren’t, and that fact alone is enough to have your heart speeding up.

The strange man’s eyes instantly drop from your face to watch your squirm, and his gaze darkens with something akin to hunger.

Swallowing thickly, you reply, “What could I want from you? I don’t even know your name.”

“This is true. But names…names are powerful things.” He shrugs, his full mouth twisting into a knowing smirk as he glances back up at you. “I’m not certain that knowing mine would do much to change the way that your heart is racing right now.”

“My heart isn’t racing.” Your defiant words ring hollow even to your own ears.

He smirks, lip curling his dark, trim mustache, and rumbles, “No? Then why can I hear it from all the way over here, dulzura?” He takes a step forward then, narrowing the distance between you enough that you do reach back and grip the wall, if only to keep your knees steady beneath you. Leaning in close, the wide barrier of his umbrella swallowing you both as it blocks out the night, he whispers, “Why is the scent of you so strong I can practically taste it?

You grit your jaw as a flush finally makes it way to your cheeks. Wetness has begun to gather at the apex of your thighs; you can feel it pooling in your panties, slicking the place that has begun to pulse and throb for him. This man has never touched you while you are conscious, and yet you feel as though your cursed dreams have Pavlov-ed you so thoroughly that all it has taken for you to begin to ache for him is the mere implication of contact.

“Get away from me,” you demand through clenched teeth. The scent of him fills your nostrils – smoke and metal and man. And beneath it all, something unpleasant, something…off.

Is that…sulfur?

“You don’t want me to do that.” His accent colors his words, making them lilt and catch in the damp air as he looms over you. His closeness casts deep shadows across your skin, his broad shoulders and that fucking umbrella smothering the light from the streetlamps, from the nearby intersection, from the entrance to the bar. “In fact, I think you would rather I be much, much closer.”

No, you realize. It’s not sulfur that you smell on his skin, in his hair, on his clothes.

It’s brimstone.

“Please,” you whimper, eyes falling shut as if not being able to see his dark, hypnotic eyes would allow you to hide from them. You don’t know what you’re pleading for anymore. For him to leave you alone? For him to touch you? For him to save you from the torment that was his proximity, his voice, his scent? You think that you might accept any of those things right now; all you know for certain is that you cannot bear this battle of fear and desire he inspires within you for another minute.

You need him to get it over with – to stop with the threats and just hurt you already. Or fuck you and end your suffering. Whichever he chooses, as long as it’s soon.

The man tuts quietly to himself, and for the first time, you feel the touch of a startlingly hot, dry hand brush across the apple of your cheek. You bite back a whimper at the sensation, goosebumps breaking out all across your body, and you fight the insane urge to lean your head into his touch.

“Shh,” he soothes, voice low and gentle. You feel the warmth of his breath on your forehead then across the shell of your ear and down your neck. “There’s no need to beg, sweet thing. I’ll give you what you want.”

You gulp audibly at the promise, and then his hand drops from your cheek to your throat. You can feel your pulse racing against his fingertips, under the pad of his thumb. Just like in your dream, there’s no pressure, no force behind the touch. Just heat, breadth, weight. You feel your jaw drop open, your mouth slacken, your head tilt back like an offering.

You aren’t afraid anymore. You are calm. Obedient. Pliant beneath his hand.

He's so close to you now; you can feel him, the length and the width of him pressing you back against the exterior of the bar. Your knees are weak, your pussy dripping, quivering, begging. Have you ever needed someone as badly as you need him in this moment? It’s like the sensation is too big for your body, too great for your nerve endings to process. You feel weak with it, helpless. If he would just –

A sudden buzzing sensation travels up your arm, and a moment of clarity snaps through your body like a whip. Your eyes fly open, and you gasp like a swimmer emerging from a great depth after a struggle. You have been white-knuckle gripping your phone in your hand this entire time, and your ride share app is now lighting up your screen, filling the dark, narrow space created by the man’s umbrella with piercing light.

Your driver is here. He is waiting for you at the curb.

The dark-haired man smiles at you wryly and takes a step back. “I will, though not now,” he says with a sigh. “Run along now, dulzura. We will see each other again.”

“When?” The question passes your lips before you can reel it back in, and you’re mortified to hear that it sounds whiny and almost petulant. If you had been a small child, such a tone might have been accompanied by a stamp of your foot and a pair of crossed arms.

The man simply leers at you and offers you a rakish wink. “I think you know.”

That night, your dreams lose that blurry, soft-focus lens that has plagued you since the first day you encountered him at the coffee shop. Everything is perfectly clear, almost a little too real, and every sensation is heightened. You’re in your bed, white sheets downy-soft against your skin, the breeze from your ceiling fan tightening your nipples, pulling goosebumps to the surface. The collar of your T-shirt scratches against your throat, and your limbs are restless, tense, eager to move.

And you can feel eyes on you.

You sit up amongst your disheveled bedding, blankets pooling around your waist, and there – standing at the bottom of your bed, big hands wrapped around the rungs of your footboard – is the scarred man. Watching you silently.

“You,” you gasp, hands gripping your sheets, and the man smiles sharply. He looks…different somehow through the eyes of your dreams. A bit wrong.

He’s taller, bigger, bulkier, the shadows around his eyes deeper, his heavy brow more prominent. His teeth look sharp behind his smile, and he wears different clothing than what you’ve grown accustomed to seeing him in, the palette still all black but distinctly older in style. His shirt is billowy and loose and frayed at the edges, the collar untied and gaping open to reveal a generous glimpse of his strong, tanned neck and muscular chest. His black jeans have been traded for soft-looking black breeches, and you try not to let your eyes linger as you take in the way they pull revealingly over his bulge, leaving nothing to the imagination. He’s not hard (you don’t think), but that fact offers little comfort. He’s huge even without the added swell of blood.

“Me,” he replies. His white canines flash in the low light, his eyes black and hazy. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“I…didn’t know what to expect.”

“Mmm.” He brings one of his hands up to his mouth, brushing his thumb over his lip, tracing his mustache. “How unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate?” you echo with a frown.

“I had thought you might have figured me out by now,” he says, disappointment coloring his words. “Your attempts to get me to tell you my name earlier had me thinking you had finally put it together.”

You shake your head. “I don’t understand.”

With a pensive hum, the man rounds the foot of your bed and comes to loom over you at your bedside. You can feel the heat radiating off of him in waves, the smoke and metal and brimstone scent of him nearly overwhelming in this heightened state of awareness. It’s a heady combination, and although you incline your chin to hold his gaze, you can feel your eyelids growing heavy.

“Tell me, dulzura,” he coaxes, his tone sweet, soft, encouraging. “Did you read the book I gave you?”

Cheeks burning with embarrassment, you break his gaze, staring down at your hands as they fist the sheets puddled around you.

He reads your reticence so easily; you aren’t sure why you even attempted to be coy. Chuckling low and sinister in his chest, he reaches down and cups your chin in his big, warm fingers and tilts your face back up to look at him. “Oh, you did, didn’t you?”

Your skin burns where he touches you, his hand like a brand on your face. “I…started it, but I couldn’t finish it,” you confess.

“No? Did you not enjoy it?” The mysterious man frowns, eyes roving over your features, reading every flutter of your lashes, every quirk of your lips. It’s deeply unsettling, nearly unnatural, the way he looks at you with such directness, and again, you are hit with the sensation of being examined so deeply and so intimately, it feels almost wrong.

“Oh, I see,” he continues after a long, tense silence. “You enjoyed it too much, didn’t you? Filthy girl. And you wonder why I am so drawn to you. And you to me.”

Mortification rips through you like a lightning strike, and you jerk your chin out of his hold as you gather your blankets up around your chest in a belated gesture of modesty. Of course, the paltry layers of cotton do nothing to shield you from the heat of his stare. Because he’s right, damn him. You had enjoyed the book – a sordid collection of short stories that had to have been written several hundred years ago, judging by the vocabulary and style of prose. Each tale had been more macabre than the last, interspersed with chapters so debauched and decadent that you had found yourself needing to slip your hand into your panties more than once just to be able to go about your day.

Much like the man who had gifted it to you, the book had plagued you. You had found yourself thinking about it constantly, distractedly wishing for your next opportunity to pick it up and lose yourself in whatever grotesque, salacious, bone-chilling story it had for you next. Such an obsession hadn’t been good for you. You hadn’t been able to bring yourself to finish it.

If this man is implying that this book was some sort of clue, that the way he affects you is somehow connected to it… Ice slips down your spine at the thought, and you suppress a shiver.

“What are you?” you ask in a trembling voice. “What are you going to do to me?”

The man’s smirk softens into a smile – still just as heated, though not as provoking. You swear you can feel the scorching path of his eyes across your face, down your neck, to your clenched fists and limp sheets. He lets your question hang in the air for a moment, anticipation building in your gut, and then he growls, “I’m going to give you what you want. And, in doing so, take what I need.”

And then the bubble of anticipation bursts, and he is on you – bearing you back into the pillows, rucking up your T-shirt to grip your bare waist with searing hot palms, and sealing his mouth over yours.

His touch is like a balm to your frayed nerves, his kiss a drug. Just like outside the bar, you feel yourself going soft under his hands, your muscles lax, your bones limp. The drag of his fingers up your sides has you arching your back and smushing your aching breasts against his hard, broad chest. Your hands sink into his dark brown curls, keeping his mouth on yours, and it isn’t long before his tongue is prying open your lips and sliding out to meet yours. He tastes like smoke, like musk, and you are overcome with the distinct desire to draw him into you – to inhale him, to drag him down into your lungs and trap his essence inside your chest. Unbidden, your legs begin to twitch and kick, pushing your blanket down around your feet. You need to have your legs around his waist, need to drag him closer. You need it like you need oxygen, and though you know somewhere in the back of your mind that the depth of your desire should frighten you, nothing has ever felt more right.

This moment was inevitable – you know this now. From the moment you locked eyes with him in the coffee shop, you have been on a collision course with this man, this creature that always seems to know how to find you, that stalks your dreams, that corrupts your mind and your body so perfectly you cannot help but welcome it. Resistance is pointless, unthinkable.

Wrenching your lips from his with a whine, you pant into his open mouth, “It’s yours. You can have whatever you want. Please.”

The man above you makes a low noise, something bestial like a snarl, and the sound vibrates through your body at all the points where he touches you. “That’s my girl,” he groans, grinding his hips down into yours. You buck up into the friction as the thick, hard line of his cock makes itself apparent. Firmly, assertively, he drags himself across the soaked gusset of your panties, and you feel your pussy clench around nothing. “Don’t worry – I’m going to make it feel so good for you, dulzura. By the time the sun rises, both of our needs will be sated.”

His mouth moves down to your neck, nuzzling into the soft, sensitive skin beneath your ear. He licks you there, slow and hot, before drawing a bundle of sinew and skin between his lips and sucking. The sensation shoots straight to your core, and you feel your clit throb in time with the pulses of his sucks in a way that has you bowing up into him. You need more – more of his hot hands, more of his slick tongue, more of his rock-hard dick. You need it all, and if he doesn’t give it to you, you are absolutely certain that you will go mad.

Everything goes a bit hazy after that. Soft around the edges, dim, tinged with red and soundtracked by the thunderous pounding of your own heart in your ears. You feel him peel your shirt off your body, the worn cotton threatening to cling to places where you have begun to sweat with your need for him. You feel his lips return to yours briefly before dropping to your breasts, suckling your tight, pebbled nipples into his mouth, dragging his teeth along the tender place where your tits meet your ribcage. You feel his tongue dip into the soft bowl of your navel, making you squirm. And then your panties, long ruined and positively drenched in your slick, pull tight against your hips, and the distant sound of ripping fabric reaches your ears.

He has torn the offending garment clean off your body.

You try to give as good as you are getting, try to meet him touch for touch, but if you are honest with yourself, you are mostly a passive recipient of his passion. No matter how hard you try, you cannot seem to keep your eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time, and every time you attempt to take control of the encounter, to pull off his shirt or to guide his mouth with your grip on his head, you find yourself falling back against the mattress, too weak and overcome with pleasure to do anything but allow it to wash over you. You feel as though you are under a spell, utterly in this thrall, your body a slave to the wet of his mouth, the heat of his hands.

You cannot compete with him. You can only surrender.

When his tongue delves into the wet, soft warmth of your sex, you simply moan and spread your thighs as wide as you can manage. When he slicks his tongue over your swollen, puffy clit, you dig your nails into his scalp and wrap your fingers around the short locks of his hair. When he groans your name into your flesh, you do not wonder how he knows it. You just hitch your hips against his face, dragging your cunt across his prominent nose in long, hard thrusts until you fall apart on his face.

It is then – the first time that you come for him – that a part of your mind begins to understand exactly what is happening. The moment your climax floods your body, the most curious feeling tugs at the edge of your awareness. It is as though your pleasure is not confined to your own body. As molten fire races down your spine, as your muscles spasm and your limbs lock and your head falls back on your neck, you get the distinct sensation of all of that energy flushing through your nerves and then slowly, steadily leaking from your pores. You can feel it curl around you, holding you, caressing you, then leaving you, flowing smoothly, easily…into him.

And fuck, does he like it. You watch through bleary, heavy-lidded eyes as his black eyes roll back in his head, as his grip on your thighs tightens almost unbearably, as his shoulders knot and strain with every pulse of your orgasm. He isn’t coming, but it is clear that he feels your ecstasy as if it is his own, and it seems to strengthen and fortify him in a way that you wouldn’t have believed unless you had seen it with your own eyes.

As you come down from your high, you look down between your legs to see him staring back at you. Watching him lick his swollen, pouty lips clean of your glistening slick, you notice that his tongue seems abnormally long – almost too big for his mouth – and shockingly agile. The whites of his eyes have disappeared entirely, leaving only smooth, glossy black behind.

“Have you figured it out yet, dulzura?” he rumbles, and with a chill, you realize that his voice has changed. Whereas before it was rough and rasping, now it is akin to the sound of steel grinding against rock – sharp, multi-tonal, and resonant in a way that has you feeling the vibration of it down to your bones. “Do you know what I am?”

A single word rises through the dense fog of lust clouding your mind, a word you had first learned in a mythology class ages ago but had encountered again recently in that god-forsaken book gifted to you by this very man. It had been your favorite of the short stories you had read, and even though you are still recovering from your climax, your cunt twitches and quivers at the memory of how hard you had come against your own fingers after finishing it.

Incubus.

You can see the moment you put the pieces together in the way his smile widens, and something prideful has him puffing out his chest, drawing himself up to his full height between your spread legs.

“Muy bien, cariño,” he purrs, and damn you if the sound of his praise in that cursed voice from the deep doesn’t have you reaching for him pathetically, trying to pull his body back down onto yours. Your weak, limp flailing has him laughing, and although you know that the sound ought to have frightened you, the chill that wracks your frame is one of arousal, not terror.

“I knew you would get there eventually, you clever thing,” he continues. Reaching one hand behind his neck, he grips the collar of his worn black poet’s shirt and pulls it over his head, leaving him bare-chested.

You can hardly bear to look at him, he is so beautiful – miles and miles of muscle, golden tan skin, and the finest dusting of dark hair trailing from his bellybutton down into the waistband of his breeches. There is nothing sharp or defined about him, not like the male models you are accustomed to seeing on billboards or the fashion brand fliers you get unsolicited in your mailbox. He is built like a warrior of old, like a figure out of a fairytale – thick, strong, powerful. You could easily see him in a shirt of chainmail, wielding a sword in battle, returning slicked in the blood of the enemy, crowing with victory.

You wonder, for the first time, whether this is his true form or if he has tailored his appearance to specifically appeal to your sensibilities. Does he know the way you have always swooned over the heroic figures of your story books? Has he fashioned himself to look like he just walked out of one? You should not find the idea touching, and yet…

And you were right in your earlier assessment – he is bigger here in this place that is not quite consciousness and not quite sleep. His size would be striking in the real world; heads would turn as he strolled down the sidewalk; you were sure of it. The thought has your throat going dry. You didn’t often have the opportunity to feel small or delicate in your daily life, but with his imposing form looming over you in the dark, you feel fragile in a way that has you blushing from the roots of your hair to the tips of your toes.

The burn of your flush only intensifies as his hands drop to his breeches, and with quick, dexterous fingers, he undoes the line of silver buttons that hold them shut.

“Are you ready for me, dulzura?” he asks. His cock springs forward as he tucks his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and pushes them down off his hips. The sight has saliva pooling in your mouth, and you lick your lips unconsciously as you take him in – dense, dark curls, thick shaft, swollen, red tip glistening with his own arousal. He’s big – almost too big, bigger than you’ve ever taken – and you find yourself sending a quick prayer to whoever will listen that the…logistics of what is about to happen are more forgiving in this dream world than they would be in reality.

It's as though he can hear your thoughts. The moment the silent prayer passes through your mind, he looses a wicked snarl and wraps his fingers tightly around your knees. He drags you bodily across the bed, pulling you so close to him that your ass presses to the front of his thighs, and when you are close enough, he drops onto his palms above you to stare directly into your eyes.

“Silence!” he hisses, and for the first time since his lips collided with yours, you feel a bolt of fear zip down your spine. The scent of brimstone thickens in the air around you, and between your legs, the slick, blunt tip of his cock presses insistently against your throbbing entrance. He notches himself into you with a swift dip of his hips, and you cannot silence the moan that rips its way out of your chest at the stretch.

“You will find no gods here, nena. Here, there is only me. And I am not finished wringing every – ” He thrusts deeper into you, feeding his cock to you inch by agonizing inch. “ – last – ” Deeper still, you feel your walls parting, softening, spreading for him, making room for his length inside your aching cunt. “ – ounce of pleasure from your sweet little body. Ahora. Dámelo.”

And then the haze returns, and you are overcome.

He is relentless, unforgiving, almost animalistic in the way he fucks you. Distantly, you register the sound of your own rhythmic whines and whimpers – ah! ah! ah! – every time he bottoms out inside you, but you cannot bring yourself to feel self-conscious. With every thrust, he overwhelms your senses. You have never felt so full, so stretched. You have never experienced anything like the way his cock drags against your walls, the way he presses and kneads on every sensitive spot as though you had given him a map to them all. That combined with his low grunts, his filthy words, and his lips sucking dark, tender bruises all across your neck and chest have you capitulating embarrassingly fast. All you seem to be able to do is grip his wrists on either side of your head and hold on while he fucks the life from you.

“Eso es, dulzura,” he growls. “Know you want it. Know you need it. Needed it for so long – weeks and weeks, huh, nena? S’okay. Es tuyo. Sólo tómalo.”

Deep within your abdomen, you can feel it growing. It burns – like lava, like lightning, and shit, it’s so fucking tight. Like a spring, it coils, winding around and around as he pounds you into the mattress. It won’t be long now; you can already tell. He is going to make you come, and it’s going to happen pathetically quickly.

Again, as though he registers your thoughts, the incubus chuckles sinisterly to himself and gives you a cheeky wink. He leans down and wraps his lips around one of your nipples, sucking hard and then trapping it between his teeth, and the sharpness of the sensation bolts straight to your clit.

“Fuck!” you gasp, arching into him, grinding your clit against his pubic bone as he continues to thrust inside you. “God, please – ”

One of his hands flies to your throat, and before you can react, you feel firm pressure on either side of your neck, squeezing your pulse points, making your brain go soft and fuzzy almost instantly. “What did I say, dulzura?” the creature snaps, and you think you see the angles on his face get sharper, his mouth get wider, his brow get more deeper and heavier. “God isn’t here. He can’t save you now.”

“I’m sorry,” you gasp, your fingers wrapping instinctually around his wrist. You think you want him to let you go, but at the same time, it feels so good – floaty and hot and almost euphoric as he continues fucking you. “I won’t say it again, I swear!”

“Good,” he snarls. His hand lets up from around your neck, and the rush of blood to your head has you sucking in oxygen and moaning long and loud. “The only thing I want to hear coming out of your mouth while I fuck you is ‘yes’ and ‘more.’ Understand?”

You nod hard, eyes rolling back in your head as he switches up the angle of his thrusts, this one somehow even better than the last. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“Good girl. Ahora, déjame sentirte.” Dropping one of his hands down to where you are joined, he swirls your dripping wetness in firm, steady circles around your clit with the pad of his thumb. “Come for me.”

As though your body is his to command, you do exactly as he says. Hands flying to his broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin, knees hitching up around his hips to drag him closer, you careen over the edge with a shout.

Just like the first time, the energy of your pleasure leaving your body is a physical thing. It lingers long enough for you to feel it, for you to luxuriate in it, and then it passes through your skin into his, and this time, you feel him receive it. His body ripples under your grip, his muscles spasming, his skin trembling, his cock somehow swelling even more inside the warm, wet clutch of your cunt. That is all it takes for him to join you in your rapture. With a few final, frenzied thrusts, you feel him twitch and seize inside you, and a hot rush of cum fills you so thoroughly that you can feel it leaking out around him, dripping down your ass to pool beneath you on the sheets.

“Dulzura,” he murmurs into your collarbone, the tip of his hooked nose tracing delicately across your skin as he comes down from his high. “Eres tan perfecta. You did so well. You knew exactly what I needed, didn’t you? Tan buena.”

The two of you lay like that for some time, you smothered against the mattress with his body weighing heavily on top of yours, his slowly softening cock still wedged inside you, his face buried against your neck. Absently, you run your fingers through his hair, and you notice that in spite of the exertion, he has not sweat at all. Perhaps not the most bizarre thing you have learned about him tonight, but you make note of it, nonetheless.

“The ecstasy you have gifted me tonight will keep me nourished for a long while,” he says after a time. He drops a wet, sloppy kiss onto the underside of your jaw. “You have my gratitude.”

The sentiment has you snapping to awareness, the fog of sex suddenly clearing almost instantly. Pulling back to meet his gaze, you find a warped version of the face you have come to know staring back at you. Had you not already figured out that he was a demon, his appearance now would have given it away – flat, black eyes, prominent brow, sharp cheekbones, large, pointed ears, a wider mouth, sharp, vicious teeth. He is the same man you met in the coffee shop all those weeks ago, and yet he is also very much not. You think, perhaps, that that ought to frighten you, but you feel no fear. Instead, you are struck with the realization he seems to have gotten what he wants from you.

You may never see him again.

“So,” you whisper, throat dry, voice hoarse from overuse, “that’s it, then?”

The incubus frowns. “Does that displease you?”

…Does it?

“…I suppose it does.”

His frown dissolves then, and he draws himself back up onto his knees, hovering over you with a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t tell me my dulzura is going to miss me,” he taunts, and your cheeks burn.

“I’m not going to miss you,” you reply quickly, careful to keep your tone indifferent. “I’m just saying, maybe the next time you need to…feed, you could…” You shrug, your flush deepening. “You could find me again. Now that I know what you need, you know.”

The wicked smirk on his face eases as he takes in the sincerity in your words and instead melts into something that looks suspiciously like fondness. “Bold little thing,” he purrs. “I like that. Perhaps I shall. But until then…” He reaches out and brushes the tips of his fingers across your eyelids, closing them with a delicate touch. “Rest. Sleep. You have earned it, sweet girl.”

Just as with your orgasm, it is as though his words have command over your body. The moment your eyes flutter closed, the world around you falls away, his touch dissolves on your skin, and you slip into a deep, peaceful sleep.

When you wake, the sun is streaming through the gaps in your curtains, casting soft, warm columns of light across your sheets. You glance over at the clock on your bedside table and find that you have slept in much later than usual, though where normally you might feel guilt for this, instead you simply feel sated. You cannot say when you have last had a more restful night of sleep. You feel entirely refreshed.

Stretching luxuriously against your pillows, you take stock of your body. You’re surprised to find that your T-shirt has made its way back onto your body, and with a frown, you notice that you are still wearing the cotton panties you had gone to sleep in the night before. They cling to your body wetly, the sensation cold and a bit unpleasant, but as you run your fingers over the fabric, you confirm that they appear to never have been ripped – they are just as whole as when you had pulled them on.

You find no soreness between your legs, no sign of the vigorous, almost violent activities of the night before. Peeling back your blankets, you lift up your shirt to scan your skin, and you find no trace of the dark purple marks the creature had left behind with his mouth. Your body is entirely unmarred. It is as though nothing had even happened, and you would be lying if you said you were not a little disappointed by this turn of events. A part of you had been looking forward to feeling the ache of him today, to seeing the evidence of his touch on your skin. You feel as though you have been denied any souvenirs of your encounter, and you aren’t sure what to make of the hollowness that echoes in your chest at the realization.

However, before you have the opportunity to feel too melancholy about it, a dark shape lurking at the edge of your vision catches your eye.

You immediately roll over to face it, thinking for a wild moment that it might have been him, that he might have already come back for you. But instead, all you find is that leather-bound book, Sins of the Flesh, resting conspicuously on the other pillow next to you.

You certainly did not leave it there when you went to bed. It had been tucked away in the bottom drawer of your bedside table for weeks.

Reaching out with tentative fingers, you run your hand over the soft, worn cover of the book, and once again, you are struck by the sensation of warmth emanating from the oxblood leather. You feel a tug deep in your abdomen, an urge you can’t quite name, but suddenly you know that you are meant to open it. With a frown, you pick up the book and flip open the cover before you can consider it further.

There, on the cover page, directly below the gothic typeset of the title, you notice a detail that you have never seen before. A name written in an archaic-looking script, inked in watery black as though from the tip of a quill.

Pero Tovar

A rush of satisfaction passes over you even as the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The demon had given you his name.

#monstersmash24 #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x you #the great wall #pero tovar fanfiction #the great wall fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic

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finelinevogue · 2 years ago

Text

starry eyes

summary - harry’s the captain of the ice-hockey team and there’s a house party to celebrate their win

warnings: alcohol and weed consumption, alcohol anxiety, house party, lots of kissing

word count: +3.2k

pairing: ice-hockey boyfriend!harry x college!reader

You arrived to the party late.

It was kind of your thing though, turning up late. If it weren’t for your boyfriend, Harry, you’d turn up to events weeks late or even weeks in advance. He was your personal calendar reminder, but unfortunately he had drunk too much beer to remind you what time the party was starting.

It had been the last game of the ice-hockey season and Harry, the captain, had brought it home with the final goal. He had scored and won for the entire team, which is why the whole school was now celebrating in his frat house.

Being the captain’s girlfriend, you had an obligation to be there but you’d take the opportunity to get drunk with Harry any day. Feeling euphoric with him was another planet of love.

“You ready to get fucked tonight?” Kora asked, laughing after coming out of the bathroom with a small bag of white powder.

“You already are fucked, babe.” You laughed, standing in front of your full length mirror and adjusting your dress. Harry had always told you that you could arrive to his parties in joggers and you’d still be the prettiest girl there, but you wanted to put a little more effort into yourself tonight.

Your black dress hugged your body perfectly and you actually felt really hot. Your tights were really sheer and had darker black hearts running up and down the length of them, your ankles and feet covered by your Docs. Your outfit didn’t show much colour so you added one of Harry’s red checkered flannels over your dress. Leaning into the mirror you rubbed your fingers under your eyes to smear away the mascara that had fallen.

“And you’re going to get fucked, our darling Y/N, by your champion of a boyfriend.” Sloane wolf whistled at you as you checked yourself out.

You blushed thinking about Harry’s reaction to your outfit and just getting to see you in general. You hadn’t managed to see him since the game and so you were eager to see him and kiss him for all he was worth.

“We ready ladies?” Bertie asked, picking up his phone and holding it out to take a group picture before you all left.

It turned out to be a video of you all being excited to party that Bertie added to his story, which you only knew because Harry texted you almost instantly after it was uploaded.

H🫂: juust saw berts story. get here quick but get here safe. i need to kisss youuuuu xxxx

He made you giggle with his text and everyone teased about how your relationship was still in the honeymoon phase 2 years after you’d got together.

It wasn’t a long walk over to Harry’s house, but it took you longer because you were all drunk walking and Kora needed to wee behind a rose bush.

The frat house was so busy to the point people were queueing up outside just to get in. The people outside the front door had created a party outside just to keep them drunk before they got inside, afraid to be sober upon entry. All of the ice-hockey team and their significant others would already be inside, since they all had first priority access. That’s the only reason you walked to the front of the queue, because you knew the bouncer and he’d let you in instantly.

“Suckers!” Kora shouted at all the young teenagers that were here to get a glimpse of their ice-hockey team players rather than actually get drunk.

The bouncer let you inside easily, along with your trail of friends. Each of you were just as drunk as the other, but maybe Kora was a different kind of drunk to the rest of you.

Once you were inside you were greeted with a chorus of hellos, since you were quite well known thanks to Harry. That and the fact you were known for being the kindest person on campus. You were always there to help others and never cared who someone was or where they came from. You were a good person and that’s why people trusted you enough to be friends with.

After hugging a few people, you made your way to the kitchen to take a few more shots.

“Y/N!”

You turned to see where Mitch was calling your name. You smiled and waved him over. Mitch was Harry’s best friend and regular weed supplier. Some nights you and Harry would drive to the beach and escape college life for a night, whilst sharing a blunt or two. It wasn’t something you and Harry did regularly, but it was nice to feel a different kind of high for the night.

“Mitch, hey bud!” You raised your shot glass up to him and then knocked it back with a sour face. “Congrats on the win!”’

You wrapped your arms around his neck to hug him slightly, not hugging him too tightly because you reserved the best hugs for Harry only.

“Thank you, yeah.”

He pulled his blunt out of his mouth and passed it over to you. You held it between your fingers and took a heavy drag of it, letting it burn the back of your throat before blowing the air back out. When you’d puffed it back out, you handed it back over to Mitch thanking him.

You normally would’ve taken more of a hit from Mitch’s stash, but you weren’t really keen on getting high tonight, Getting drunk was enough. Plus you’d rather get high off Harry.

“Y’seen H?” You asked.

“Saw him about.. twenty minutes ago.”

You nodded and stood next to him as you watched the rest of the room become electric. The music was playing some house party playlist off Spotify, you could tell. There was a group of people dancing with each other, another group playing beer pong and then just people dotted everywhere talking, shouting, to each other in conversation.

Many of the team players were hooking up with their respective girlfriends and boyfriends, only making you crave Harry that much more.

You kept bringing your bottle of red up to your lips to swing as you watched the room like it was a movie on a TV screen, laughing when you saw other people laugh.

Bertie came into the room with his boyfriend in towe, Alex, who was also on the ice-hockey team. Both of them served themselves drinks whilst talking to you.

“Hey, Alex, have you seen Harry?” You asked yet another team member of Harry’s.

“Um, not for a while, no. Sorry.” He shrugged and wrapped an arm around Bertie’s waist.

You smiled softly, but inside your heart was breaking over not finding Harry sooner. You were getting anxious to see him now and the alcohol was going to cause tears if you weren’t careful.

“Hey, Mitch?” You poked the guy next to you, who was passing his secret stash onto Bertie and Alex.

“Hm?” He leaned down so he could hear you better.

“I’m going to go try and find Harry.” You pointed to the exit of the room and Mitch nodded in understanding. He got out his phone and texted Harry that you were looking for him as well. He was a good friend.

Mitch made you check your phone just in case Harry had sent you a message, but your phone had no service since there was so many people in the building. You sighed and tucked your phone back into the flannel shirt pocket, with shaky hands. That was your first sign a breakdown was on its way if you didn’t find Harry soon.

You could handle your alcohol quite well normally, but only because you drank within your limits if Harry wasn’t with you. If Harry was with you, you didn’t mind drinking a bit excessively because you knew you had him to take care of you and be the emotional support blanket required if the alcohol turned into a breakdown. So, the fact you hadn’t found Harry yet and you’d definitely exceeded your alcohol limits made you very anxious and very aware of how tipsy you were.

You were glad you wore your Docs.

The amount of people that were crammed into the house was impossible, making it very difficult for you to see anyone beyond two people. People kept on tapping your shoulder and expecting a conversation out of you, but you had to politely decline because you only wanted to find Harry for now. You weren’t focused on anything other than finding Harry.

“Excuse me. Excuse me, please. Sorry.” You repeated over and over again as you tried to push through the crowds of people.

Thirty minutes later and you were entering a new room, this one even more crowded than the last. It was very loud in here too, or maybe it was because you were sobering up after looking for Harry for so long. You were simply going round and round in circles, but nobody seemed to know where he was.

Your heart was pounding what felt like outside of your chest from the anxiety the alcohol was giving you. You pulled the flannel around you and the collar up to your nose momentarily, breathing in Harry’s cologne just to feel like he was somewhat close to you. You continued through the crowd, getting pushed back by random people and your feet getting trodden on by dancing feet.

“Y/N!” Harry’s voice shouted over the crowd so loud you were worried that he would shatter his voice.

“Harry?” You questioned quietly to yourself, spinning in circles trying to find the source of his voice.

“Y/N!” His voice shouted louder and your eyes teared up after thinking it was just your mind playing tricks on you, after wanting him so desperately.

Then you saw him push a drunk guy out of his way to reach him. He smiled brightly when he saw you and you pushed through some more people to reach him, your brows furrowed in determination to reach him.

Your heart slowly healed itself as you got closer to him, feeling more and more comfortable and safe by the second.

When you finally met him, you went straight in for a hug. Your arms wrapped around his waist and you squeezed tight, swaying slightly as you held him close. The moment felt infinite and you wished it could’ve been as he wrapped his own arms around you, picking you off the ground slightly and onto your tiptoes. You laughed as he spun you in a little circle, holding on tight to you.

You laughed and loosened your hold on him to finally look at him. Both of you kept ahold of each other as you looked at each other, hazy eyes burning into one another’s.

“You look so beautiful.” Harry said softly and even though the room was booming with loud music, you could make out every word he said perfectly.

“You won.” You congratulated him on his game win and he nodded his head lightly.

“I was looking everywhere for you.” He said. “Been going round in circles for an hour looking for you.”

“Me too.” You laughed, cupping his cheeks in the palm of your hands. His cheeks were warm from the flush of pink that was drawn out by the beers he’d drunk.

“I thought you might’ve just been late, but then Mitch said he’d just talked to you and that he hadn’t smoked enough to hallucinate yet.”

You dipped your head and rested your forehead on Harry’s firm chest, right over where his heart was beating rapidly with the anxiety of finding you. Turns out you had both been as desperate as the other to find each other. Your arms dipped too, snaking around his neck and hugging him close again. Harry’s arms relaxed on your middle, underneath his flannel shirt.

Someone then bumped into the back of you and you turned around to see who it was, but Harry had already cupped the back of your head to keep it safe from any more bumps, whilst shouting, “Hey, watch where you’re going will you?”

He was known for being too kind to actually start a fight, but people did know not to mess around with you otherwise there would be an issue. Luckily the guy apologised to you both and everything was fine.

“You okay?” He asked, leaning over so you could hear him.

You nodded against his chest and brought your head out from hiding. His eyes were as bright as the stars that hung in the night sky and all because you made him feel that way.

“Can we go?” You nodded your head in the direction of the door, wanting to escape this sweaty room with all the drunk dancing people.

“‘Course.”

Harry took a tight hold on your hand and walked through the sea of people towards the door. Every time you lagged a little behind him, due to someone dancing a little too hard, he would wait patiently for you to squeeze through whilst still holding your hand tight.

You were half-way to exiting, when he stopped right in front of you and pushed you a little ahead of him. Both of you were still holding onto one another's hand, but this time you were leading.

“Can see whether you’re alright this way.” Harry had explained the reasoning to you.

You continued to move through the crowd and look back at Harry for reassurance every now and then, but before you could count to ten you were out of the room and could breathe again.

Harry quickly tugged on your hand and pulled around the bannister and up the stairs, making you shuffle along behind him. People were passing by and trying to stop Harry for a chat or a photo, but he kept on walking past with a smile with his only focus on you in his hand.

You knew he was taking you to the hideout upstairs.

The hideout was a small room at the top of the house, in the attic, that was filled with a pool table and video games on one side of the room and then the other was equipped with beanbags and blankets. It was yours and Harry’s favourite place to come to if you both wanted each other alone for a while, since no one ever bothered to come up here during a party. It was made even safer by the fact it had a pin-code to even get into the room.

Once you were both in the attic, alone, Harry walked you over to the beanbags in the furthest corner and flopped himself down backwards, making a dramatic sigh as he did so. You watched him with a smile as you did so, trying to cover it up when you noticed him looking at you with starry eyes again.

“Well, c’mere then.” Harry tugged on your hand to make you fall down next to him, but not hard enough to actually make you move.

“Actually.. I think I’m going to…”

You pretended to walk away but Harry was quick to sit up and pull you back to him, stronger this time so you did fall onto him. You laughed on your way down, cautious of where your knees landed in case you hurt Harry.

“No. You’re staying here, with me.” Harry wrapped his arms around your waist and held you against his body. Laying flat on top of Harry you felt safer than ever and were glad you went through those moments alone to get to this one.

You hummed peacefully as you snuggled your face into his neck, breathing the same cologne that had been on his flannel shirt - only this time it was stronger.

One of Harry’s hands pulled your dress back down your bum so if anyone walked in they wouldn’t get a free show. It was little gestures like that which made you so aware that you’d chosen the right guy to fall in love with. It was a gesture so small that people might even miss it, or call it insignificant, but to you it only made your heart grow for him more.

“Missed you today.” You said, your voice slightly muffled from being so pressed up against Harry’s body.

“Yeah? I missed you too.” Harry’s hand had now slid underneath the flannel shirt and was rubbing up and down over your back, a feeling so comforting you could call it home.

“You always get too busy on game days and I don’t get to kiss you enough. It’s unfair.”

“It is unfair, baby. I agree. I’m free to kiss you now though.”

“I know. I’m choosing to cuddle with you instead, in case you’re needed again tonight and you can’t sleep over at mine.” You lightly admitted to not being able to sleep without him by your side.

“Screw whoever needs me. I’m sleeping at yours tonight and we’re sleeping good.” His arms tightened around you protectively, afraid someone would ruin the moment.

“But maybe we can kiss a bit too?”

“Never going to say no to you, baby.”

You moved your head out of his neck and hovered it above his. You felt his hands move out from underneath the flannel and up to cup the back of your head gently. One of your hands stayed by your side and the other came up to cup his cheek again.

Both of you gazed your eyes over each other, sometimes dipping down to see your lips. Harry then pushed your head forwards with his hand and sealed your lips with you. He tasted exactly the remnants of the party downstairs, with a lovely mix of beer and whatever else he had been drinking.

You moaned when his lips pushed a little deeper, making your head follow his in an effort to not part your lips. Harry pried your mouth open with his tongue and made short work of tasting you all over, noting the taste of weed on your tongue. He tasted cherry sours too and it only made him crave more of you.

“I… love.. You… So much.” Harry said in between kisses, not wasting a single second more to tell you. You always knew it, but it was always a bright moment to hear it again and again.

You hummed in agreement, but Harry wasn’t having any of it. He turned his body so yours fell off his and back onto the beanbag carefully. His body then hovered over yours, the weight of his chest pressing against yours and grounding you to him. You’d never felt so safe and loved.

You tried lifting your head to kiss him again, but his lips weren’t puckered ready for yours.

“No. Say it first.”

“I love you.” You told him and he could tell by the glint in your eyes that you honestly meant it.

“Don’t ever stop telling me.” Harry made you promise by linking his pinky finger with yours and then you both kissing each others pink fingers.

“Well, then don’t ever stop loving me.” You counter offered and Harry was quick to kiss your pinky finger all over for that promise.

“Impossible. Absolutely impossible.”

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yellowbrokenblue · 2 months ago

Text

The Club - Part Two

Maya returns to the club to see Harry, unaware that his friend would also be waiting there for her…

Harry x Niall x OC

read part one here

cw: smut, oral, degrading, threesome, idek all u need to know is this is the filthiest thing i’ve ever written thank me later

Harry didn’t stop watching the club entrance. His eyes were glued to the door all night, and since he’d been here, he had asked the bouncer at least three different times if she had arrived yet.

But it wasn’t until 11pm he noticed her, the same blonde bouncy curls shining under the dim lights. He couldn’t wait to have her again.

“That’s her?”

Harry turned to his left, where his friend was sat in a booth, with a glass of whiskey clutched in his hand.

“Yeah. Maya, her name is.”

“She’s hot.”

“Uh, huh.”

He stood up and weaved his way through the crowd of people towards her, his hand grabbing her waist from behind as soon as he reached her.

“You told me you’d be here an hour ago.” Harry said into her ear, startling her with his presence. “You’re late.”

“Harry.” She breathed, turning around to face him.

“Maya.” He replied.

A mere 24 hours ago they were stood in the same place on the same dancefloor while he fucked her with his fingers, and as much as he’d love to repeat last night’s event, Harry had other plans for her tonight.

He took a step closer to her, his lips brushing over her ear.

“You look so good, Maya.” He said, “This little bralette and your short skirt.”

He smirked, hearing a small whimper escape her lips.

“Did you get dressed up for me?” He asked, “All for me?”

“All for you, Harry.”

Harry breathed her in, closing his eyes as he inhaled the scent of her and her perfume. He couldn’t wait to have her again; he didn’t plan on wasting any time.

“We’re doing things a little different tonight.” Harry said, “I don’t do this with everyone.”

“What is it?”

Harry smirked.

“There’s someone I need you to meet before we can get started.”

He led her over to the booth, adjusting his pants as he walked. The anticipation had reached his dick.

They reached the table, where Harry’s friend was sat waiting for them, his eyes following Maya as she walked. Harry gestured for her to sit in the booth first, and he slid in next to her.

“Maya, this is my good friend Niall.” He said, placing a hand on her bare thigh.

“It’s nice to meet you, Maya. Harry has told me about you.” He said, in a thick irish accent, “He’s told me what a good girl you are.”

“Oh,” Harry said, squeezing her thigh, “A real good girl.”

Maya looked between the two men sat with her. They were probably the two most attractive men she’d ever seen in her life, and they were both staring her down like they wanted to completely devour her.

Her lips parted, with another small whimper.

“D’you mind if I share you with Niall tonight, gorgeous? I can’t always keep a pretty little thing like you to myself all the time.”

“Share?” She questioned, “You both…?”

“We both want you, Maya.” Niall said, “Do you want us?”

Her panties were soaked just from looking at both of them. She wanted to moan just from their words.

She nodded in reply to them.

“I wanna hear you say it, baby.” Harry said, “Tell us you want us.”

“I want you.” She said to Harry, before turning to Niall, “Both of you.”

“’Atta girl.” Harry grinned.

Mayas attention turned to Niall as he began to speak.

“Now, Harry got you last night, but I haven’t had you at all.” He said, smirking, “So I’d like some proof that you want me, Maya. Show me how much you want us.”

Confusion spread over her face, but she wanted them both so badly she was willing to do pretty much anything.

“Do you want me to…” She gestured towards his pants.

Niall chuckled, “No, honey.”

“Niall likes his girls to work for it.” Harry interrupted.

“Work for it?”

“Yes.” Niall said, “We’re gonna stay here, at this booth, until you make yourself cum, and then Harry and I will give you whatever you want.”

“Have you made yourself cum before?” Harry asked. “You’ve touched yourself before?”

She nodded, “I haven’t made myself cum before…”

“You can do it,” Niall said, “And then we’re all yours.”

Maya reached for her skirt, hiking it up as far up her hips as they could go, before sliding her panties all the way down her legs, taking them off completely.

Feeling brave, she lifted the panties off the floor and placed them on the table. Both of their jaws clenched.

Maya felt their eyes on her as her hand slowly crept towards her dripping wet pussy. She was soaking for them, and Niall and Harry both knew it from the state of the panties she had placed on the table.

The let out a soft moan as she ran a finger through her folds, before reaching her clit. The fact she was in a club with hundreds of other people didn’t even bother her in this moment, all she wanted was to please the two guys next to her.

“Look at her, Niall. Moaning already.” Harry said, “She’s so desperate for us she’s gonna jerk herself off just cause we asked her too.”

“So compliant.” Niall said, “So needy.”

Two of her fingers slowly circled her clit, applying the right amount of pressure for her to moan at her own touch.

“That’s it, Maya.” Harry said, “Keep going.”

“Oh!” Maya groaned, her fingers speeding up.

“Do you feel good, Maya?” Niall asked, “Do you feel good touching yourself? Do you feel good with your fingers in your cunt?”

“Uh, huh.” She moaned, her hips bucking against her own fingers.

She wasn’t close yet, and if she wanted these men to fuck her then she was going to have to make herself cum. In another attempt, she took her other hand and tried to mimic Harry’s actions yesterday, pushing two of her own fingers into her entrance, and pumping them in and out as fast as she could.

“Oh, she’s desperate, Ni, you gotta see this.” Harry said, gesturing for Niall to move next to Maya. “She got two hands going now.”

Niall sat next to her, his dick rock hard as he watched her touch herself.

“Are you imagining Harry’s cock inside ya right now, imagine him filling you up?”

She nodded, desperately throwing her head back as she cried out.

“I’m close.” She said, “I’m so close.”

“Keep going.” Harry said, “Cum for us, baby.”

“I can’t.” She cried, “Not without you, Harry.”

“Yes you can, Maya. Just keep those fingers moving in your pretty little pussy. Niall and I are right here for whatever you want when you finish.”

“Oh!” She moaned, her clit pulsing with the pressure.

“How ‘bout I have a little taste of that pussy of yours later,” Niall said into her ear, his voice sending a shiver down your spine, “And maybe you can suck Harry off while I’m doing it.”

“Does that sound good, Maya?” Harry asked, “You ready to be a dirty little whore for us?”

Harry’s words seemingly were all she needed to tip her over the edge. Her orgasm came crashing down on her, and she cried out both of her names as she came. She rested her head against Nialls shoulder, regaining her breath.

“Oh, you’re as good a girl as Harry told me.” Niall said, “Can’t wait to try you out.”

Harry grinned, wrapping his arm around her waist and shuffling closer, his mouth moving to her neck. Niall smirked at his actions, and done the same, both men attacking either side of her neck.

Her cunt was aching for them, all she wanted was for them to wreck her. She didn’t care what the done to her she just wanted them so bad that it hurt.

She moaned as they sucked on her skin, and Harry grabbed her hand, pressing it against his crotch.

“Need you get you upstairs, baby. I need you to sort this out for me.” He said.

“Take off your skirt though.” Niall said, “It’s dark, no one’s gonna pay attention. But I wanna see that cute little naked ass climb the stairs.”

“That’s barely a skirt, Niall.” Harry said, “Our dirty little slut dressed in barely anything because she wants to fuck us so bad.”

“What’s upstairs?” She asked, as Harry slipped his fingers under the waistband of her skirt, pulling it down off of her legs.

“I got a room up there. Nothin’ special, just where Niall and I like to fuck pretty girls.”

The three of them left the booth, and Mayas legs were shaking so much with anticipation that she barely made it to the staircase. Harry took her by the hand, leading her upstairs, and Niall pinched her ass, grinning as they approached the bedroom.

“Get your shirt off.” Harry said, “Bra too. There’s too much we want to do to you, we’re not wasting any time.”

“C’mon, c’mon, Harry.” Niall teased, “Take it slow, take it slow. I haven’t even kissed the girl yet.”

Without warning, Nialls lips were on Mayas. He tasted of the whiskey he’d been drinking, but smelled of expensive cologne. His fingers were tangled in her hair when she felt Harry come from behind, sliding his hands around her waist, kissing down the back of her neck.

Her aching cunt was screaming to be fucked, and her hips absentmindedly bucked against Nialls, grinding against his erection.

He pulled back, smirking.

“Someone’s eager, hm?” He questioned, in which Maya responded with a nod, “Get on the bed then, on your hands and knees.”

“Thought you were gonna eat her sweet little pussy out?” Harry questioned.

“I change my mind. I need my cock in her.”

“I’m gonna fill you up with my cum, baby girl, and you’re gonna suck Harry’s fat cock while I watch it drip out of you.”

She swallowed, her big eyes looking up at the two men.

“You heard him,” Harry said, “On the bed, Maya.”

She climbed up onto the bed, crawling on her hands and knees.

“Aw, look at her, Niall.” Harry said, “Her pussy is fuckin’ dripping for us.”

Harry pulled his pants off, along with his briefs, letting his erection spring free before kneeling in front of Maya on the bed.

“You think you can take it?” Harry asked, “Daddy’s big cock in your mouth?”

She nodded, eagerly.

“Let me make you feel good,” She begged, reaching for his dick.

“Not yet, baby. Not till I watch the look on your face when Niall shoves his dick all the way up your pretty little body. Wanna watch you.”

Taken by surprise, Niall was already positioned behind her. He quickly lined his cock up with her entrance, and pushed himself all the way in.

She screamed with ecstasy, the feeling of his dick all the way inside her making her feel pleasure she’d never felt before.

“So fuckin’ tight.” Niall said, “Your pussy feels so good on my dick, Maya. Taking it like a good little whore.”

She moaned as he pulled almost all the way out of her, before quickly thrusting inside of her again.

“Can’t wait to fill you up with my cum.” He moaned.

Maya groaned, her head looking upwards to look at Harry. Their eyes met and she moaned.

Niall’s thrusts became faster, Mayas mouth wide open as she took him.

“Get Harry’s dick in your mouth, Maya.” Niall said through a moan, “I want him to cum in your mouth the same time I cum in your cunt.”

Maya wasted no time listening to Nialls demands, and reached for Harry’s dick, taking the tip in her mouth.

“All the way, Maya. You can’t take me.” Harry said.

Harry came closer to her, forcing his cock further down her throat. She moaned as it hit the back of her throat, holding back a gag.

“Oh, Maya. Your mouth feels so fuckin’ good.” Harry moaned.

With hollow cheeks, her lips pressed tightly on his dick, his hips bucking forwards as she sucked him off.

Maya was ridiculously close to an orgasm, struggling to concentrate on anything, but she knew Harry was close to finishing. Niall fucked rough, and she wasn’t going to be able to hold on for much longer.

“Don’t worry, Maya.” Harry said, “I got it from here, you done such a good job, baby. Now let me watch as you cum all over Nialls cock.”

She dropped Harry’s dick from her mouth, and allowed herself to be ruthlessly fucked by Niall. She screamed their names over and over until she snapped.

The most mind-blowing, insane orgasm of her life washed over her, soaking Nialls cock with her cum.

“Look at me when you’re cumming, Maya. I want to see you.” Harry said in front of her.

Their eyes met, Mayas mouth hanging open as cum dripped from her pussy.

She moaned, her body falling limp and her head crashing into the bed as she rode out the last of her high.

Niall continued to thrust into her, his hips bucking against her until he came inside of her, moaning as his cum filled up her pussy.

The three lay on the bed, catching their breath, for a few minutes.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, baby.” Harry said. “We can’t have a pretty thing like you looking all messed up like this.”

“But Harry,” Maya said with big eyes, “I haven’t had your cock yet.”

Harry swallowed. Her smudged eyeliner, her swollen lips… He was down bad.

“I want you to fuck me up.”

masterlist kofi

401 notes · View notes

lilystyles · 2 years ago

Text

comfort.

part three of the no strings attached series by @lilystyles

no strings attached masterlist & main masterlist xxx

authors note the long awaited part three!!! you guys are literally the best omg. all the love for both parts has been amazing since i'm so new to tumblr!! can't believe it :))) kisses and hugs, enjoy part three and follow me to see the other parts coming soon! sorry if this took some time, uni's kickin my ass.

brief description y/n calls harry drunk and scared, harry picks her up and helps take care of her. the next morning y/n worries she'll scare him off, but of course, harry eases those worries.

warnings! mentions of sex, swearing, and alcohol abuse, overall just a mature read. anxious girl reader moment (real). FLUFFY ASF!! around 4.5k words.

drunk!inexperienced!virgin!reader x fwb!harry

* * * * *

“Hello?” A crackly voice spoke into Harry’s phone.

The familiar voice of Y/n made his eyes snap open. It was an odd, long, 011 phone number; he was confused why her little contact wasn’t on his screen. It was this recent photo of her lying on a rug in just one of his shirts listening to records. He was still half asleep, all foggy and confused. Her call had woken him up from a deep slumber. He honestly thought he might have been dreaming for a moment, her voice was all distorted.

“Love, is that you?” His voice came out all deep and gravelly.

“Harry?! It’s Y/n!” He could hear noise in the background of her, her voice was warped and all crackly.

“Are you alright?” He said quickly sitting up from his bed, she never called on a random number. Something must be wrong. His knuckles rubbed along his eyes, trying to wake himself up. It was pitch black and freezing inside his room.

“My phone’s dead!! I’m at some club, you’re the only number I knew off by heart! Can you come to get me? I’m a bit scared and I’m stranded!” She was still shouting, he could hear people shouting and music in the background. She could hardly even hear her own voice over it all.

Harry looked at the time on his phone. It was around 1 AM. “I’m coming now, Y/n. Where are you?”

“Some place called The Swan!”

He had already slid some shoes on and began to race to his car. “I’m comin’ right now, I’m gettin’ in the car. Can yeh wait with one of tha’ bouncers or somethin’ until I’m there?”

“Good idea, H. Okay, see you soon. Drive safe please.” She sounded very drunk. The phone made a slamming noise when she ended the call, it must have been a pay phone.

Harry had to stop himself from speeding to get her. He tried to breathe. She was scared, and that unsettled him. He knew that she didn’t need protecting, but drunk women alone were vulnerable, he wished it wasn’t so but he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to awful scenarios.

The Swan was this really dodgy nightclub in a dodgy neighbourhood. For some reason, their friend Olive tended to favour it for the free drinks on Friday nights. She must’ve roped Y/n into going there tonight. Harry had gone to a business meeting that evening so they hadn’t been able to hang out, he’d called her to tell her. Y/n said that was okay and that she had plans anyway too.

This must have been the plan.

When his car arrived outside the strip of clubs he parked in a taxi zone, and quickly got out not caring whether or not he could park there. He looked around the swarms of people trying to find her familiar head of h/c hair. He was still in sleep clothes, this grey pair of shorts and a shirt that belonged to Y/n actually. It was this baggy old pink one with Spice Girls on the front it fits him more tightly than her.

His shoes were slippers and socks and he had a hoodie over his head. When he got closer to the entrance he saw her.

She was sitting on the floor beside two big burly bouncers. Her feet were bare and the heels she had on were in her hands. The dress she was wearing had ridden up a bit as she stared off into the distance, drunkenly. She hadn’t seemed to noticed her undies were on display or that her straps were falling down her shoulders. Her heels were off and she was sitting them in her lap.

“Y/n.” He said in relief, glad he’d made it here quickly enough. She was in a right state.

She looked up, smiling all bleary-eyed. Her mouth was in a wide-open puppy dog grin. “Harry!” Her arms lifted up for him.

He laughed feeling better now that he could see she was all okay, nothing had happened to her. He bent over slightly to pick her up into the hug that she was wanting. She dropped her shoes as he lifted her but she didn’t seem to care slinking her arms around his waist and leaning into him.

She squeezed him tightly. “Thanks for gettin’ me,”

“Of course, love. Am I really the only number y'knew off by heart?” He asked pulling back slightly to see her face.

She blushed looking down at her feet, all shy.

“Other than Mum.” She replied, finally meeting his eyes. Her Mum lived back home though, so Harry was the only person she had to call and truthfully the only one she wanted to call.

He smiled kissing her temple, brushing some hair away from her eyes. Her mascara was smudged and her lipstick had faded leaving her lips stained a slightly rosy colour, but she still looked beautiful.

“Don’t get cocky. It’s from all those times I’d call you in Uni to pick me up.” She replied, her words slurring slightly.

“Have you seen Y/n?” Asked Harry, in a gruff tone.

Queenie, Y/n’s friend who’d invited her to the party, was smoking a joint quietly outside on the front porch of the university sharehouse.

“I think she’s inside, last I saw she was dancing on the kitchen table.” Said Queenie with a breathy laugh, blowing out a long cloud of thick white smoke. The potent smell hit Harry’s nose and he wished he was back home.

He just nodded, sighing. It was probably about 3 AM right now. He’d been asleep but their friend James called him up saying Y/n needed to be picked up and brought home. She was a bit out of control.

Harry knew it was of roommately and best friendly duties to pick his girl up. She’d done it to him too, many times. And he did worry for her when she was out drinking, especially when he wasn’t there to watch out for her. Even in school when they’d get drunk off stolen alcohol in each other’s backyards he watched out for her always.

James would always say it was because he was like a jealous boyfriend, but Harry denied that saying it was simply because she tended to end up passed out on the road without his watchful gaze.

When he got inside suddenly his pyjamas felt too hot even though it was a chilly night. There were many people swarming the house, he made his way to the kitchen saying hello groggily here and there to friends.

When he got there he found Y/n dancing along to the beat of some awful song everyone knew the words to. Her hips were swaying and the exposed skin that her low-waisted jeans offered looked edible, she looked so good even with half a bottle of tequila in her. He fought away that thought and blamed his tired eyes.

Her cheeks were flushed from her drink and she had this toothy smile on her face.

“Y/n!” He called over the music, looking up at her on the table.

She opened her eyes looking down at him. “HARRY!!”

He smiled, and suddenly waking up at three had been worth it, and coming to get her was no problem. “Hi, love!”

She made grabby hands at him. “Come on! Get up here! Dance with me!! I missed ya!”

How could he say no?

He didn’t say anything, he just let go of her to pick up her shoes from the ground.

Her arms were wrapped around her body like she was cold.

“Are y’cold?”

She nodded her head. He quickly took off his zip-up hoodie and put it on her, zipping it up for her. He was rolling the sleeves for her because it was too big when her hand fell onto his chest gripping his (her) shirt.

“You’re a thief!” She teased. “Not my Spices Girls shirt, Harold!”

He just smiled, pushing some loose hair behind her ears. “S’cute! I think I look good in it. Don’t you?”

He’d look good in a paper bag, but the real reason he wore it was that it smelt like her. The shampoo she used, her perfume, and that something that was just her natural aroma. He liked how worn it was, the soft feel of it, and how it had faded from so many years of sleeping in it. She wore it a lot when they were roommates too. But she’d had it since she was little. The once vibrant pink had paled to a babied pink hue.

Honestly, he’d been sad they couldn’t hang out that evening. He put it on to help him sleep.

“You always look good.” She rolled her eyes as if it was annoying. And sometimes it was, how did he look good in the old raggy-stained shirt? She would never know. Magic. He was bloody magic.

He started taking his slippers off. They were black slip-on ones. She frowned at him. “What are you doing?”

“Put them on. I don’t want yeh’ cutting yourself on tha’ glass.” He said softly. Her heels were still in his hands, looking dainty in them.

She smiled softly before sliding her feet into the slippers. Her feet ached from those ridiculous shoes, she was glad to be rid of them. His sock-covered feet were on the floor. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. Home?”

“Home.” She nodded.

He made sure he had her purse too before opening the car door for her and placing the bag and shoes by her feet. She slid in and Harry even did her seatbelt up for her, before gently shutting the door. When he got in beside her she smiled, glad to be with Harry. She’d missed him, it had only been one day. But they had been inseparable at the minute.

His car smelt of tobacco, mint, and a spicy woodsy smell. Just like him. He had a vanilla-scented air freshener and a charm of jade beads hanging on the mirror.

“Can I put some music on, H?” She asked turning to him. Her eyes stared up at him. He handed over his phone unlocked.

She opened Spotify and put on some Oasis. Hitting shuffle it landed on ‘Married With Children’ and she sighed. “Remember when we used to listen to Oasis at my house?” She asked.

Growing up Y/n had the most CD variety and all the gang used to go over and listen; when Y/n’s parents were away they’d smoke and drink with this album on in the background. It always made Harry feel very nostalgic and it always reminded him of her. Even when they had drifted his hands itched to ring her if he ever heard it on the radio.

“Of course, you loved bloody Oasis.” He replied, smiling at the memory of 14-year-old Y/n. She had these colourful dresses, ratty sneakers, and an Oasis obsession. She just grinned over at him in reply, humming the words of the song. He could see that girl inside her even now, and Y/n could still see young Harry who was all dimples and laughs underneath the rockstar beside her.

“Yours or mine?” He asked gently as pulled up to a red light.

“Yours, please. S’closer and I want your comfy bed.” She had been dreaming of his big grand bed, it was all white, fluffy, and fresh and it smelt of her Harry. She wanted to curl up in there, she’d been feeling a bit emotional recently. She thought her period might be coming soon. So all she wanted was to sleep in his arms and his very comfortable and luxurious bed.

And she liked when she woke up at his house and she’d find him sitting on the couch drinking his tea, as always he was awake before her, waiting for her with some pastries or big plates of bacon and eggs. It was like being in a bloody hotel!

He nodded, she looked so sleepy beside him. “As you wish.”

The drive was quick and quiet beside the low humming radio.

When the car pulled out the front of Harry’s large house he entered the security code into the gate and made his way inside the driveway. When he parked the car and turned off the engine, he looked over to find her very much asleep.

He sighed softly, letting himself take a moment to stare. Her eyes were shut, fluffy eyelashes on her cheeks, lips all pouty and soft. She looked so calm and soft like this, it made her look like an angel. An angel in clubbing clothes. He knew he wanted to get her inside and change her into something comfortable and get her safely to sleep, but he wanted to enjoy her beauty for a second.

“Bun,” He whispered his hand touching her cheek. She leaned into his touch, still asleep. “We’re home,” he said slightly louder.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she just nodded. He got out and walked to her door, helping her out. He grabbed all her things, locked the car and then grabbed her hand to guide her inside. When they stepped inside Harry was glad to be home.

He then guided her upstairs to the bathroom motioning for her to sit on the toilet. She did so happily and he opened his drawer grabbing some makeup remover and cotton pads, Y/n had a habit of falling asleep in her makeup so he’d bought this so she didn’t have to at his house.

He soaked the cotton pad with the remover and stepped closer to her, pushing her chin up slightly. She smiled at him sleepily.

He smiled back. It was silent, but they didn’t always need to talk. They’d never needed to talk all the time, that wasn’t their style.

He gently pressed the cotton pad on her skin and removed all the makeup around her lips, cheeks, and forehead. It took a few cotton pads and then he finally did her eyes, she looked like a panda for a second and he giggled at her.

Her hand had crept up onto his hip under the shirt, her nails gently scratched the skin there and she saw a peak of the fern tattoos. She loved those tattoos, they had to be her favourite. When she’d pleasure him she loved kissing along those tattoos and when they cuddled on his couch and her head was on his lap she would trace along them. They were just fucking so sexy.

He liked her tattoo too. He was just as obsessed with every inch of her, but he loved that she had gotten it with him in mind. He felt they’d always be connected till the end of time.

Once he had gotten all her makeup off her, he used a wet cloth to wash her face. She felt nice and clean. Harry knew just how to take care of her. He handed her a hairbrush she left here and she quickly brushed her hair before tying it back away from her clean face.

“Y’want your shirt back to sleep in?” He asked pinching the pink material.

She shook her head. She had started to sober up, but she was still looking sleepy, “Looks better on you, Harry.”

He gave her the pink toothbrush he’d bought for her for when she slept over. She cleaned her teeth. He waited, leaning in the doorway, watching her with droopy eyes. He was starting to feel sleepy too.

She followed him to his bedroom, her arm wrapped around his waist as she pressed her cheek onto his back. He loved her like this, they already were quite physically affectionate but that was usually Harry initiating it. But drunk Y/n loved to touch him, he’d always known that. She was the same in uni.

When they made it to his room he opened his cupboard. Grabbing a jumper he wore earlier that day and a pair of clean boxers. He handed them to her and since she was drunk, and they had started to see each other nude more often she had no shyness in taking off her dress and Harry’s jacket. She threw it to the floor before she finally took off her bra and undies to slip into Harry’s clothes. The navy jumper smelt of him and she loved that.

The whole room smelt of him. She took his slippers off and left them by the foot of the bed.

“In ya’ get.” He gestured to his messy thrown sheets. She quickly crawled up to the pillows before wrapping herself in his big fluffy duvet. He turned his lamp off and got in beside her with a sigh.

“Thanks.” She whispered looking up at him.

He just gave her a crooked smile, all dimples. “Of course.”

She moved closer to him resting her head on his chest.

“Sooky pants.” He teased, arms still wrapping around her.

She didn’t reply, just kissed his chest. It made his cheeks heat up. She made it hard for him not to feel like this. Did she even realise? He would do anything if it meant he got some of her. Even if she didn’t want to date him, he was happy with anything. Any piece of her was enough to keep Harry.

The two fell asleep quickly, wrapped together in each other’s soft touch, they hardly moved at all during their sleep. Feeling peaceful and warm on that chilly evening was enough to make Harry sleep in longer than usual.

Saturday mornings usually consisted of him going for a run, grocery shopping, calling his Mum or Gemma. But this morning he slept through the sunrise and all the way until 7:00! Harry was honestly amazed, it’d been a long time since he slept in until then. He looked down to find Y/n still buried in his chest, and couldn’t bring himself to move.

After an hour of drifting in and out of sleep, his bladder caused him to get up. He tried to be gentle but Y/n stirred. He placed her gently back but she made a little whine, arms grabbing his.

“I’ll be right back, Love.” He whispered, kissing her forehead. She let go.

She opened her eyes, the curtains were half drawn and but it was a rather dreary London morning. Didn’t seem to be raining yet, but thick grey clouds covered the sky so it was practically dark in Harry’s room. She felt awful, slightly hungover, mainly just sleep deprived. She felt tired and sore, kicking off the white duvet she looked down to find a big red blotch staining Harry’s white sheets.

She looked to see it all over her thighs too. “Oh shit!” She gasped. She was so embarrassed. She wanted to cry. She ruined his sheets, his clothes, and oh god. What if he was grossed out? What if he found her digusting? She wasn’t exactly thinking rationally, but she wished she could’ve gotten it another time. Why now?!?!

Her panic was interrupted by Harry coming back from the bathroom. He had two steaming mugs in his hands, all smiley. Happy to see her up, thinking maybe they could go for a walk today. There was a local park nearby. He thought it could be cute, maybe they could get breakfast at a nearby cafe and go for a stroll. Y/n had some study to do but Harry was good at making sure she took enough breaks. She had a habit of overworking herself.

He stopped smiling when he saw her panic and glossy eyes. “Y/n, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry.” She said, tears spilling from her eyes. He frowned, he hated seeing her cry. He walked closer to the bed placing the two teas on the bedside table and finally saw what she was talking about. She must have gotten her period in the night or early this morning.

He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry, baby, it happens.”

She placed her head in her hands, body slightly jolting from her sobs. He quickly wrapped her in his arms, rubbing her back. “It’s alright, I promise.”

“But I-I—” She hiccuped, pulling back slightly,“—r-ruined y-your sheets, Harry.”

“No you haven’t I’ll go wash them, it’s not a problem. It’s only sheets.” He caressed her head, pushing back stray hairs.

“What about your clothes?” Her lip quivered. She felt awful. So guilty.

“I’ll wash those too, Petal, s’fine.”

She frowned. “I’m so sorry. I know it’s gross.”

He frowned deeply. “S’not gross, it’s natural. Y’can’t control it, Love.”

She didn’t say anything, just looked down at the mess on the sheets and her legs.

He kissed her forehead. “M’ gonna run you a bath, get some new clothes f’ya, and then I’ll get y’whatever breakfast y’want.”

She looked up, smiling gratefully.

“What stuff do y’need? Do you need any pain relief?” He pulled out his phone and wrote down the list of things she needed.

She felt so lucky, Harry was so sweet about it. Listening to every detail and asking questions.

He then ran a big bubble bath for her, lavender scented soap filled the room. He dimmed the lights and checked the temperature of the water with his hands. It felt just right. After he turned the water off he got a big fluffy black towel for when she was done.

She stripped off his clothes telling Harry she’d wash them after she had her bath but Harry beat her to it and did the sheets and clothes all in one go while she warmed up and cleaned herself.

While she relaxed he did a few things around the house, including bringing her in a tea and his laptop to watch some Friends on. She needed something that didn’t involve thinking.

He gave her a peck before leaving to buy her some pads and tampons, and the specific pain relief she wanted.

Harry will admit that since gaining money he tended to go a bit over board sometimes. He came back home with enough pads and tampons for a year and lots of other things; including her favourite snacks and chocolate.

When he came home from shopping he found Y/n relaxing still in the bath, eyes shut, as Friends played in the background. She opened her eyes, she looked a bit ill. She sometimes had really bad period pain. Today was one of those days.

He gave her a little haul of the things he bought. “I got tha’ ones with daisies s’on like y’asked.” He said shaking the box with the daisies. “Here’s the pain medication.”

She silently wondered if this is what a boyfriend would do. Her inexperienced brain made her question her sanity. Maybe this was normal for friends with benefits. She had literally nothing to base it on.

When he was done showing her he put them on the sink and Y/n told him she was ready to get out. He quickly shut the door giving her some privacy before grabbing some clothes for her to wear.

He found a big black jumper with ‘Pleasing’ on the front, she loved this one (always knicking it), a plain white shirt of his that he wore to the gym sometimes, and a pair of black tracksuit pants with the drawstring so they would fit her well. He also found a pair of fluffy socks and had even bought some cotton underwear for her so she didn’t have to wear his boxers. At this point, Harry kind of wished she had a drawer here for her stuff. He liked having her here, and it might make things a little easier.

He knocked asking to come in. She mumbled a ‘come in’, and he did. She had wrapped herself in the towel.

He handed her the pile of clothes, stroking her cheek. Her hair was damp letting the water fall over her neck, back, and shoulders.

“These are all clean and I bought some undies from the shop, so you should have everything. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thank you, Harry.” She said softly, eyes scanning his features. His eyes looked so green in the dim darkly lit house. How did he look so good right now? He was in casual lounge clothes. A pair of grey tracksuit pants that made him look muscular and a loose black long-sleeve. He looked so pretty watching her like that, arms crossed and worried eyes. He looked pretty all the time.

Today felt more intimate than anything they had done. Today had felt real.

“Of course, Petal. I’ll leave you to change.” He kissed her forehead.

He went downstairs, doing his usual morning routinely bits and bobs. When Y/n came down she had blow-dried her hair and washed her face. Her eyes, even with deep bags, still looked pretty. Lips all pouty. She seemed calmer now, but still tired.

“Are y’feeling up ta’ goin’ out?”

Even though she was tired, Harry had an excited look, how could she say no to him? Even if her uterus was angry inside her.

“Okay? Breakfast?”

He nodded. “How could I drag you out without the promise of breakfast and a good time?”

She giggled.

They layered up for the winter weather, with puffer jackets and beanies. Y/n felt so funny in all of Harry’s clothes, but the smell made her so calm she was ready for a nap.

Harry mentioned that it was only a short walk through the park and then they’d be there. Since it was a pretty quiet area and Harry was wearing a beanie and sunglasses he wasn’t too worried about being noticed. Y/n was much the same in a pink beanie of his and this big crimson scarf around her neck.

It was the one he wore on New Year's of 2014. “Harry, this is an old one isn’t it?”

He was typing on his phone replying to a worried Olive. He was annoyed she’d left Y/n to fend for herself and ditched her for a bloke. Nonetheless he told her Y/n was fine. He looked up at her, they were walking down his street.

“Sorry, Love? What?”

She smiled placing a hand on her neck. “I remember this…”

“Oh, right. Yeah, had it for ages.”

She smiled softly. He turned is phone off and put it in his pocket grabbing her hand which had been swallowed by the long arms of his jumper. She let him, it felt too nice to pull away. His hand was warm and soft. She leaned into the comforting touch.

He kissed her hairline as they strolled through the park. It was chilly, Y/n found herself leaning into him happily. She wished it could be like this everyday. It was a Saturday so it was as busy as the quiet area got. Children ran around with worried mothers chasing after them. Teenagers on bikes laughing and flying by. Old couples wandered around closely together.

They fit right in. Seeming like two normal people, a normal couple.

Harry wasn’t some rockstar right now, with Y/n he was just himself. Just Harry from Holmes Chaple. He loved that Y/n grounded him and made him feel normal, this to most was a boring day but to Harry the best in a long time.

When they got to the small strip of cafes Harry guided her to his favourite place.

Over delicious hot chocolates and breakfast, the cold morning felt warm and Harry and Y/n felt blissful.

"Haz, thank you again,"

He just smiled and leaned in for a long kiss. It was nice and with no real sexual intentions. Just a genuine soft, warm, slow, nice kiss.

"Of course, now stop thanking me. No need. An' tell me what yeh' think of the eggs."

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