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textmel8r · 5 months ago

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[ DRABBLE ] 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ! ( ninth installment ) in which you are forced to plan a corporate event with your office enemy .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; kento nanami

୨୧˚ cw; profanity , alcohol consumption , inebriation , sexual harassment , violence , vomit

୨୧˚ an; i love nami kempo (dis shit like 4k werdssss) ALSO i’ve been getting comments that my tag list isn’t working for me dumb someone help me pls tell me what im doing wrong

୨୧˚ join my discord server ! we share headcanons, fanfic recs, color roles, and more drooling emoji

“Why am I here?” Nanami thinks out loud, glaring pointedly around the unlit dive bar. It’s unglamorous, walls garbed in eclectic music paraphernalia, references that go right past him. Flurries of reds and yellows and oranges in the decor cut brightly, shining through the dim atmosphere. Seriously, would it kill them to switch a light on? It bustles with life; university kids, Nanami is subjected to think based on the… unique fashion sense present in the room. Street wear, torn jeans, crop tops way too short to be considered shirts anymore. He cringes, feeling entirely too dated to be hanging amongst this kind of crowd. His leg bounces restlessly under the ledge of the bar, and he turns to look at you. “Why are we here?”

You’re smiling—actually smiling—flagging down the bartender. “You knew we were coming to a bar,” you cut yourself short, holding up a single finger to him whilst you relayed your order to the older gentleman behind the bar. A rum and coke, you asked politely before glancing toward Nanami. It took a moment for him to realize what that look meant.

“I’ll have scotch, neat. Thanks.”

“As I was saying,” you steal back his attention, “I made it clear we were coming to a bar. What’s the problem?”

There was a hint of an attitude catching at your words, and Nanami felt his brow twitch in frustration. “You failed to tell me that we’d be in…” He grimaces, peeking back over his shoulder to the sea of youthful patrons slinging over nearly every stool and booth. “ . . . Mixed company.” God awful pop music fizzles through the speakers, twisting and crackling with pops of static; fuel to the billowing flames of Nanami’s overstimulation. “I was expecting something a bit more sophisticated.”

“I can tell,” you’re laughing as you give him a once over, and he gets a shiver of Deja Vu from the coffee shop where you pulled the same exact move. You tweeze at the expensive cotton button down, plucking the bunched fabric of a sleeve at the crease of his elbow. “Thought we said no more fancy clothes?”

Tonight he threw together a plain white shirt and a pair of slim fit khaki pants; the quintessential dad outfit, sure, but fancy? Nanami didn’t think so. “I’m dressed down.”

“Nixing the suit jacket and tie didn’t do much. You still look stiff, man.” Two glasses are brought over, one placed before either of you respectively. Nanami stares down into the glass, a foggy, brown abyss. His alcohol looks watered down and piss cheap. “You stick out, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Oh please, you’re too kind.” Nanami rolls his eyes, hunching over the bar and downing a swig from the scotch. Yeah, It was definitely watered down. Fuck this place.

Your hand slaps his back. “So dramatic. I was kidding Nanami, you look fine.” A cheeky laugh reaches his ears before you tack on, “very handsome.”

Now he knows you’re messing with him.

You grin into your cup. “Stop sulking. It’s not so bad here.” Nanami would beg to differ. A debate that isn’t worth having because frankly, it’s a Saturday night and he doesn’t have nearly enough energy to draft a list of all the cons that this joint has to offer. “We got booze,” you raise your glass. “Booze makes everything better.”

His forehead wrinkles. “That’s a horrible mindset to have, Y/n.”

Your boisterous laugh outweighs the ambient chatter, and you take a hearty gulp. Nanami follows suit, albeit a bit awkwardly, tipping more spirits down his throat. You look surprisingly comfortable, slinking against the bar counter with a hazy smile that welcomes strangers in. This time, you weren’t wearing a flowery dress; instead, a low cut shirt and jeans, both equal parts dark and tight. The neckline plummeted deep, exposing slivers of your bra cups and entirely too much cleavage. By God, was his self restraint something to write home about.

It was easy to fall into comfortable conversation. All in all, Nanami enjoys talking to you now, even if once upon a time the thought of engaging with you evoked such dread that he’d outwardly avoid your presence around the office. Passing along orders specifically meant for you to other colleagues and entrusting them to deliver the message, lengthening the conveyor belt of relation simply because you got him in a tizzy. Back then, all Nanami could see when he looked at you was that cowardly girl in the bathroom with smeared lipstick and a trembling pout. How shameful, he thinks, that it took him this long to see past that terrible first impression.

“So there I was, balancing ten cups of coffee, shaking like a little bitch,” you laughed as you shared an anecdote from an internship in your university years. Nanami listened intently, head propped up on his fist as he watched your theatrics. Your cheeks flushed with the evidence of alcohol, eyes lidded, smile wobbly. Nanami was feeling the edge of his buzz coming on too, an amazing revelation considering the diluted alcohol this place served. “And I’m walking up ten flights of stairs–”

“Ten flights?” He gawks, feeling looser and matching you with melodrama. “What, did your office not have an elevator?”

You laughed. “It was out of order.”

“Your luck astounds me.”

You flip him off playfully. “I finally get to the last stair and my heel catches on the floor and I eat total shit in front of the entire room!” Nanami can’t stop his own tittering, cupping a palm over his grin. “Spilled the coffee everywhere, twisted my ankle, too. I probably laid in that puddle for ten minutes.”

“That’s why you don’t wear high heels anymore?”

There’s a grimace on your face when you nod, topping off the rest of your glass. “Mm.”

Nanami swaps his own story, of a time when he was in his third year of college and his work laptop got stolen. “I think I cried,” and you guffawed at his misery. “I’m serious, I really think I cried. Alone, on the floor of my dormitory. It was finals week, and I had written my dissertation on that laptop.”

“So what did you do?”

“I pulled an all-nighter in the library on campus and rewrote my entire thesis.” Merely remembering that chaotically stressful night had Nanami huffing a sigh of anguish and dragging an exasperated hand down his face.

The bartender slides you another drink. Gosh, he was lagging behind. “I would’ve dropped out.” You spoke over the rim of the glass.

“Trust me, I was really close.” Nanami’s eyes narrow, gaging the swell of your throat as you knock back a few swigs. “How many have you had?”

“A few.” Your answer was blunt, and from that Nanami could gather that his question had rendered you the slightest bit irritated. He understood why; you were a grown woman, who was he to regulate how many rounds you decide to have? But even with this understanding, the man couldn’t shake his concern. “More than you, old timer. Keep up.”

He shakes his head, scratching at his cheek. “This is my last for the night.” Any more, and Nanami would wake up the next morning nauseous with a pounding headache. He took precautions to avoid breaching his limits, he really disliked that hungover feeling.

You gawk at the declaration. “How lame.” Then you hiccup.

“You can call me lame now, but which one of us will wake up tomorrow not in pain?”

You wave a hand through the air, brushing off his very astute observation. “Hush, that’s for future me to deal with. Present me doesn’t have a care in the world.”

You’re immature, but it’s amusing, so he doesn’t offer any rebuttals. The way you are so insistent on living in the moment is fascinating, almost inspiring even. Nanami feels as though he’s ever crushed by the impending future, always so concerned with what the next day, next week, next month, next year brings. He thinks ahead to a fault, and because of that, forgets to enjoy the little things. But you always stop and smell the roses. It’s admirable.

“Bartender!” You wag a finger in the air, slamming down your empty glass. Fiending for yet another drink.

Okay, maybe your ability to live in the now is to a fault as well. Nanami holds a hand up, signaling the barkeep to halt. “Sorry,” he apologizes politely, “she’s all good for now, thanks.” Ain’t that the truth. Your face looked tacky with sweat, pupils scarily dilated. Your words come out dimly slurred, and your gestures uncoordinated. As your business associate, he feels obligated to intervene at this point.

A hand slaps his down. Your hand. “Hey what gives?” You’re upset with him. “Just because you’re done doesn’t mean I am.”

“You’re three sips away from throwing up on yourself,” Nanami deadpans, unphased by your drunken outburst. Unbeknownst to the two of you, another patron had taken up the stool opposite of you. To be expected; the bar was decently crowded, that being said neither of you paid much mind to the man. He was younger than Nanami for sure, his hair unkempt and shaggy, swept back by sweat and something that looked like grease. He was smiling, probably on some brand of dope that Nanami was unfamiliar with. The stranger interrupts, leaning over with his elbow planted on the countertop.

“You her father or some shit?” He speaks without any warning, catching both you and Nanami’s attention.

Father? Nanami internally grimaces, jaw tightening. Just how old does he think I am? Trying not to be offended by the inquiry, he corrects the man. “Just a concerned friend, that’s all.” You have yet to speak, still a tad caught off guard by the unexpected company.

The stranger’s grin widens, reaching shit-eating status. “Then hop the fuck off her case, man.” He shoots a pair of lidded, droopy eyes toward you, eyebrows jumping in a manner that is entirely too suggestive for Nanami’s liking. “If the lady wants another drink, then let her have another drink.”

Nanami feels the awkward tension thicken the air between this interaction. For all the shit you talked about getting hit on in bars, he would have never expected you to act so timid when put in a position like this. Nanami fully expected you to side with the latter party, to order another round of vodka-whatever and then leave with your newfound knight in shining armor. What actually happened: “No, er, my friend might be right actually,” followed by an incredibly strained chuckle. Your shoulders stiffen, Nanami can practically feel the way you harden up beside him. “I should probably take it easy.”

The man feigns grief. “Aw, c’mon. You seemed so eager before. Let me buy you another?”

“She just said—”

“I was talking to her, not you.”

Nanami was utterly shocked by the sheer gall this young man possessed. Was he trying to intimidate him? It was painfully ineffective. “I don’t want one,” you said with a little more oomph this time, fiercely hanging on the urge to defend Nanami. It made him feel strangely prideful.

The stranger’s smile never retreated, but something sinister glinted in the ocean of his dark eyes. He gave a sniff, brushing the point of his nose with the pad of his thumb before hurling yet another unwanted flirtation your way. “Baby, hey, what’s one more drink? I saw you from across the room, I’ve been dyin’ to chat you up.” Under the table, his hand slips into your personal space. Nanami sees it unfold in his peripherals; the pallor hand slithering over your lap, grabbing a handful of your denim-clad thigh. You yelped in surprise, wincing. Nanami saw it all.

He was not a violent man. In fact, he could count the number of times he’s thrown a punch in his life on one hand. Physical fights were pointless, a waste of time and energy because Nanami wholeheartedly believed that altercations were best settled with words. But the moment your nervous squeak found his ears, Nanami couldn’t control the urge to beat this guy’s face in. So that’s what he did; sliding out of his seat to round you and pull the stranger off his stool by the collar of his faux leather jacket. The material felt cheap and mingy, not something Nanami would ever be caught dead wearing. Without so much as a second thought, Nanami sends a heavy fist barreling into the meat of his cheek. One good, solid punch, and the sinewy gentleman was tumbling to the ground, walking the thin line between consciousness. “Shit…” Nanami breathes, chest heaving with barely concealed rage, knuckles throbbing to the beat of his racing heart. The bar went dead, too many pairs of eyes locked onto him to count, but the only ones he could care about were yours.

You looked at Nanami with such astonishment, with your eyes pried wide as dinner plates and your mouth ajar. He was ready for you to yell at him, to curse him for embarrassing you in a pub you frequented, but nothing came. Well, almost nothing.

“Security!” The bartender hollered thick and deep, slapping a damp rag onto the counter with a wet plap.

“Shit!” Nanami repeated, cuffing a hand around the thinnest part of your wrist, tugging you into his side as you both raced toward the exit. “Let’s go.”

You’re gurgling and grumbling, latching onto the material of his shirt as little bouts of complaining bubbled past your lips. “Not so fast!” and “Oh God, my stomach” and “I don’t feel good.” Nanami had been reduced to your crutch at this point; he bore the entirety of your weight without batting an eye because your own legs were too wobbly to do it yourself.

“I know,” he murmured, maneuvering through the crowd. “Hold it together, we’re almost there.”

The first step outside felt like entering Heaven. Nanami basked in the cleanliness of the chilly night air, gulping down a big breath of fresh oxygen that hadn’t been tainted by marijuana smoke. But suddenly, you’re detaching yourself from his hip and he’s bewildered by your sudden need for proximity. “Y/n—”

He turns to face you, only to be met with the crown of your head. Doubled over at the waist, hands on the lower fraction of your thighs, you vomit onto the dewy pavement… and his shoes. Nanami’s cursing once more, drawing closer despite how much you obviously don’t want him to. “Alright,” he coos in exasperation, gathering your hair into a bundle and holding it away from the splash zone. “It’s alright, get it out.”

“You’re… Did I just puke on y-your feet?” Your voice is croaky, something of a mixture of embarrassment and illness. You can’t even look at him.

“Stand up,” Nanami tells you. He’s unbending you, straightening your body upright with a hand pressing your back in from his bowed shape. “Can you look at me?”

You pout, childlike. “No.” You’re looking at his shoes, the toes slick with remnants of your stomach acid.

“They’re just shoes, I have a million pairs.” His head cocks to a tilt. “Would you look at me, please?”

You’re sighing, but looking up to him nonetheless. Gazing up with big, glossy eyes and wet lashes that clumped together through tears. Eyeliner diluted and cradling your undereyes in a dark embrace. You wipe your mouth with the back of a palm, smearing shimmery gloss out of the confines of your lip line. It’s all so nauseatingly familiar, this pitiful display. Nanami decides he hates seeing you like this.

“I’m sorry,” you chirp.

“Don’t apologize.”

“I’ll pay for them.”

Nanami puts a hand on your shoulder when he notices the slant in your posture. “Cut it out, that’s entirely unnecessary.” He looks around the parking lot, full of vehicles. They catch the glint from the yellowish street lamps. “Did you drive here?” He thinks it’s unlikely, seeing as you let yourself fall under such intoxication. You weren’t so irresponsible; if you drove here, you would’ve made sure you’d be able to drive home too, like he did.

You’re shaking your head. “Caught a train.”

Nanami nods, pleased. “Good. That’s good.” With all the grace and gentleness in the world, the man loops your limp arm back around his nape, securing you against his oblique with a sturdy arm snaked around your waist. Everything is ginger, lest he upset your stomach again. “Are you good to walk?”

“Yeah, I think I’m alright.”

“Then let me take you to my car.”

That pulls a frown from you. “You don’t need—need to drive me there, Nana’. The station—” Hiccup “It’s just down the road.”

The blonde glowers. “You can barely stand on your own, public transportation is out of the question.” Like Hell he’s going to let an obviously inebriated, attractive young woman such as yourself ride the subway alone. Please, don’t make him laugh. “I’m driving you home.”

“It’s out of your way.”

“I don’t care.”

It’s a slow race, but Nanami eventually hauls you to his car parked at the entrance of the lot. A midnight shade Maserati; he doesn’t miss the way you gawk at his luxurious ride. “If I had a car like this, I’d never leave it.” He laughs. You smack his bicep. “I’m not kidding, I’d sleep in this thing. She’s gorgeous.”

“She says thank you,” he huffs his response. Nanami leans you up against the side of his car, pinning you between its door and his thigh while he opens the passenger door. “Watch your head.” His hand curls around the roof’s ledge, a makeshift cushion to protect your skull as you duck into the car seat. Immediately, you’re slumping back into the comfortable leather interior, moaning out quiet mewls of exhaustion.

“Yeah, I’d definitely sleep in here.”

“Keep those eyes open.” The door swings shut, and Nanami makes haste when rounding the rear of his car to the driver’s side. He had barely toed the line of sobriety anyways, but knocking a stranger on his ass was definitely more than enough to woosh any semblance of haziness from his veins. Nanami wouldn’t think about driving—wouldn’t think about putting you or anyone else on the road in danger—if he felt even the slightest bit impaired by the scotch. Behind the wheel, the man leans across the center console to grab your seat’s safety belt, carefully dragging it over your chest and clipping it into the buckle. “I need your address first, then you can knock out.”

“My address…” You ponder, lips pursed and eyes blinking at a snail’s pace. Sleepiness prevails, and you fall in and out of slumber, head lolling and cheek mashed up against your shoulder.

Nanami carps, unappreciative of your inability to stay awake long enough for this much needed conversation. “Hey,” he bleats, patting the top of your thigh. “Come on, Y/n. I need to know where you live.”

You whine, rolling your eyes at his persistence. “The city.”

“You live in the city.” Nanami deadpans at the useless information you’ve just spared.

“Mm.” And then you’re drifting back to sleep.

Nanami pinches high on the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger, over the permanent divets where his glasses have drilled into his skin. The contortment of his fingers sends another spike of pain over his bruising knuckles. “Wake up and give me a proper address.” He supposes his heated seats aren’t doing much to stave off your tiredness, so he presses his knuckle into the off button. You whine.

“I don’t remember, okay?”

That’s how you ended up at Nanami’s home, tucked under his lavish sheets in his bed that’s entirely too big for one person. Your outfit had been neatly folded and piled upon his dresser, exchanged for one of his tee shirts and a pair of sweatpants that were cinched at the waist. He helped you into his clothes—with your undivided consent, of course. A completely clinical and respectful process; Nanami looked elsewhere, acting as a handle for you to hold onto as you stepped into the oversized pants he held open for you. They were far too wide, falling off your hips, so he took the time to tie a precious, little bow with the drawstrings.

“Comfy?” He asks upon his return to the bedroom, holding a glass of tap water in one hand, a bottle of pills rattling in the other. You’re exactly where he left you; swimming in his bedsheets, the comforter hoisted up to your chest. Nanami sets the water down on the bedside table, then takes a seat on the edge of his mattress, working the bottle open.

“I’ve never been more comfortable,” you sigh blissfully, taking a deep inhale. “Your blankets smell good.”

The blonde can’t help his chuckle. “I’ll give you the name of the laundry detergent I use tomorrow.” With deft fingers, he plucks two small tablets, light pain medication, and sets the pair on the table next to your water glass.

“Promise?” Your tongue pokes out from between your teeth, playful. He chides an airy yes, snapping the tylenol bottle shut. Then, your smile fades; you’re averting your eyes, fixing them somewhere over to the blank canvas of Nanami’s gray, bedroom wall. “Hey, um…” He watched the side of your face, watches the flex of your jawline and the tension in your neck. “Did I—I didn’t really throw up on you, right?”

You rub at your temple, like you’re trying to find the memory but it’s just out of reach. “No,” he replies instantly, steadily, like it’s not a complete lie. Like his bile-ridden shoes aren’t sitting outside on his front door step, waiting to be cleaned. “You don’t remember?”

“It’s fuzzy,” you grumble, frustrated with yourself. “I had too much.”

Normal circumstances permitted, Nanami would’ve totally took this opportunity to have his I told you so moment. But you already looked upset, maybe a little bit sick still, so he bit his tongue for you. “Some drunk imbecile interrupted us. We shared words, and then he got sick on us.” He was pleased with himself, his story must’ve been believable with the way you nodded along.

“And then you punched him, right?”

His face drops. “That’s what you remember?”

Your shrug. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget it, Nanami. Not for my entire life.”

“Kento.” You hum, confused, so he reiterates, “I mean, call me Kento. I just clothed you, I’d say we’re close enough.” It’s true, you guys were getting more and more comfortable together by the day. Even outside of work and the management project, Nanami and you share text conversations more frequently than he would’ve ever imagined. And these little hangouts—granted, only two have been executed thus far—have been the most fun he’s had in ages. More fun than he’d ever hope to have with his ‘friendly’ business colleagues. You’re his friend.

You, Y/n L/n, are his friend. What a strange fucking twist of events, it nearly gives Nanami whiplash.

“Ken… To…” You speak each syllable slowly, peeking up at him through your eyelashes. He nods, grinning easily. Happy. “Kento, Kento, Ken—”

“Okay, okay enough.” He rises, arms raised as he gives a hearty stretch to his back. “It’s bedtime. Over there,” Nanami points at a door, “is the bathroom if you need it. You’ve got water here, and make sure you take the medicine in the mornings. You’re going to have a terrible migraine.”

“Wait, where are you gonna go?”

“I’ll take the couch for tonight.”

“Kento…” You whine, and he really wished you wouldn’t do that. “C’mere. There’s room.”

You’re patting the expansive open space beside you, peeling back the heavy blankets. It’s an enticing offer, to slip in beside you and feed off your body heat. To hold you to him and— Stop, what are you thinking? Stupid. “I think it’s best we don’t. Sorry.” And then he’s fleeing to the door because the way in which he worded that made the depths of his soul curl with cringe. Nanami bids you a polite sleep well before leaving you to the darkness, though he has enough sense left to keep the door cracked just in case you should yell for him in the night.

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were-wolverine · 1 year ago

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okay so like

bruce’s parents died when he was eight, and from then on he was raised by alfred, correct? and alfred had been taking care of bruce since he was four

what i’m getting at here is: bruce would absolutely have a slight british accent that he unconsciously picked up from alfred

i mean like aside from classmates and teachers, alfred is who bruce spent the most time with

i just think we should acknowledge bruce would have a slight british accent is all. like it seriously doesn’t change anything but i want it to be talked about. please

of course bruce can do a bunch of different voices and accents, but this is when he’s just speaking normally (mostly among the batfam)

he also definitely uses the british word for things (lift instead of elevator, rubbish instead of trash, etc.)

no one would really question it because he’s rich and fancy, and it’s a sort of posh accent

but i want the batkids to joke about it (not when alfred is around tho)

#dc comics #dcu #dc #random batfam shit #batfam #batfamily #the batfam #the batfamily #batman #batman comics #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #alfred the butler #brucie wayne #thomas wayne #martha wayne #agent a

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bbokicidal · 1 month ago

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Is That All? .:. Lee Minho .:. 10/04/24

Genre : Smut Pairing : Lee Know x Fem!Reader Warnings : Somnophilia, wet dreams, dabbles in dub con, clothed sex (ish), grinding, dry humping, thigh fucking, groping/fondling of ass and chest, Minho kinda... rubs his cum into your skin idk.

Kinktober Day 2 of 10 : Somnophilia/Wet Dreams w/ Lee Know

Next Post : 10/09/24

Minho had a speculation that he'd find you in his bed before he even stepped into the room. You'd told Chris prior to escaping from the party that you wanted to go lay down after having one too many drinks. Sleep-ridden and body like lead, you escaped from the music to the vast upstairs that offered comfort and warmth - and quiet. The hallways are narrow, many rooms branching off to either side in the dark. But your hazy, clouded-with-alcohol mind seems to be set on the one directly in front of you at the end of the hallway.

You found solace in the sheets, the soft red satin of the dress for your ‘Devil’ costume sliding over your skin and bunching up around your hips as you settled in. The sheets are cold against your thighs and exposed arms, untouched until now, but they envelope you with joy and caress every limb as you relax under the comforter. It’s heavy - weighted, maybe? - on your form, pressing you into the mattress that creates a growing want in your chest to simply never leave from that spot. It’s almost the same as feeling .. a medication, taken orally only ten minutes ago in an effort to relieve the dull ache that formed in your skull from your previous drinking. Though you hadn’t actually taken anything prior to heading upstairs - the bed you lay in offers you the same relief.

It's only an hour and twenty minutes later that the bedroom door creaks open, clicking shut soon after as it clasps within itself. Minho enters the room with a heavy sigh, dropping a witch hat down on his floor - and never wanting to look at it again. Vascular hands lift to his neck, unlacing the strings that held the deep maroon cape up around broad shoulders and really tie the ‘wizard’ look together. Or so Changbin said; The loser that roped him into dressing up at all in the first place. The fabric slinks to the floor in a pool as he removes his dress shoes near the door, stepping out of them toe-to-heel before making his way over. His vision blurs with alcohol but he’s plenty sober to see mostly well - given he’d been babysitting a few of the others during the night as it went on. The cold sheets produce goosebumps along his arms as he pulls the blanket back to climb in, ready for the soft comfort of his own bed.

His body relaxes against the mattress, thumbs hooked in his jeans to push them down until he's kicking out of them and left in his black sweater and, ironically, matching boxers. It's only then that he realizes you're in his bed of the eight you could've chosen from, though he doubts it's on purpose when he really thinks about it for a second. You're not close with Minho, almost at all, and if you were sober you would've chosen Chris' bed with ease. You knew where his room was - how it looked, the ‘Recording in Progress’ sign hanging on it at all times. vBut in a drunken and tired haze, you'd found your way to a different room instead without a care.

And Minho didn't mind much. He pulled the blankets over his shoulders, left a small gap of room between your form and his own for what he told himself was your own comfort, and fell asleep with relative ease. The alcohol weighed heavy on his head and the ache for sleep pushed his shoulders into the sheets as he drifted off, his mind finally falling silent for the first time in simply too many hours.

He only wakes up when something begins to bother him. His previous dream lurks into his head, the image of your mouth wrapped around his cock. Snug, warm, wet. Minho's head lulls against the pillow as he fights to go back to sleep, hoping that the dream will continue if he does. He wants to feel it again - feel your tongue lathing over his bare skin - feel your lips pressing kisses to the tip of his cock. He wants to feel your hair tangled in between his knuckles again, fisted tight in his grip as he guides your head back down on his cock - pushing until the flushed pink tip of his length prodded and rubbed over the back of your throat. He wanted to see you looking back up at him again, your eyes glossy and the skin just beneath flushed rosy with blush of soft embarrassment.

He wanted to feel the tight of your throat gasping for air as he let his hips buck upwards, pushing closer and holding you in place so he could fuck into your pretty mouth. He wanted to feel it again - the way you swallowed around him until he was on the verge of painting your tongue with his cum.

He felt a bit selfish to admit it in his head but - He wanted to feel that bliss again.

Minho's needy as he rolls onto his side. He feels a little unsure about how close to you he is. His hips are flush to your pretty little ass and his cock strains in his boxers, aching - longing - for friction. He's barely even thinking when his hips begin to carefully roll forward. The feeling of his cock straining against his boxers is one thing, but the feeling of your ass is another. He's sighing out almost immediately, lips falling apart before his teeth sink down into the lower of the two, desperate to hide any noises or breaths that escaped his throat. Minho feels a bit embarrassed when he peeks down, eyes falling from just over your shoulder to where the head of his cock ruts at your clothed skin. There’s a patch - wet, sticky on the inside, and quite large - where Minho’s pretty pink cock had leaked against his boxers. And that wet spot was starting to transfer to your dress, dampening the satin each time his hips rolled forward.

His hand lifts from the sheets to instead take hold of your hip before, suddenly, he falters.He grows unsure on if he should grab onto you or not, scared to wake you from your comfortable slumber; So instead, his fingers slowly curl into the fabric of your dress as to not disturb you. Minho finds comfort in holding onto you like this - using it as leverage as well to subtly and carefully drag your curves back against himself where he lay directly behind you. His hips roll forward again, and again, and again; And again.

His fingers grasp tighter, tugging slowly on the satin until your own hips pivot towards him. The angle is perfect, he thinks, for him to rock his hips upwards so his cock could slide right over your pantyline; Given he knew already just from being so close to you that you were wearing a thong. He breathes out, jaw clenched and eyes sliding shut, as his cock slides perfectly between your asscheeks. He’s not going to ever say it aloud but he’s almost… completely relieved of shame as he chases his release that's coming so slowly because he can't move too fast or he'll wake you.

But he has to stop, his hips faltering when he feels his pull on your dress drop. His hold is suddenly so loose - no longer leverage to pull you back against him. The fabric had slid up over your hips and to the soft of your waist, exposing the black lace that disappeared between your legs. He feels a shuddered breath brush against his front teeth as he reaches down, fingers spread and hand running over the warmth of your newly exposed ass. He gropes, watching the flesh bulge between his fingers. It’s as perfect as he’d imagined before. Not that he’d… imagined you naked before. Only a few times! When he got off… twice a week… for the last year….

Minho can't help himself. He watches as you lean forward into a pillow of his, breathing heavy with sleep and curling up. He knows he needs to see more - so he takes the risk and carefully winds an arm over your waist. His arm brushes yours; Heavier, thick with muscle, and ridiculously warm. The risk is massive - touching your chest like this. But he feels his cock twitch and pulse in his boxers the moment he sees your tits spill from your dress as his fingers curl into the deeply cut neckline and pull down. His lips part, a satisfied gasp escaping his lips at the sight. His hand moves then so he can hold onto you, fingers curling around your breast and letting his knuckles become engulfed in the warmth.

His free hand, the one not busy with grabbing and squeezing at your chest, slides down into his boxers; And he’s quick with tugging the black fabric down so his cock could slip between your thighs. He's sighing out with a smile soon after, hips rolling forward once more - the exact same way they had before. Slow. Careful. Only now it was so much better.

The soft sounds of his cock slipping against your warm skin fill the room; Your slick seeping through your panties the more he rubs up against your clothed folds, the soft pink flesh he can see through the black lace. He even hooks a finger in the thong to tug it taught, watching it press flush against your pussy.

Minho chokes, and he has to pause for a moment. Was this... right?

His eyes flutter back into his head as he thinks to a few weeks ago when you had been drinking with him, Chris, and Changbin. You'd confided in them about some guy you'd been seeing who had constantly had wet dreams about you - to which Changbin makes a suggestive comment about how he should've just fucked you then. But Chris barks out with laughter in an attempt to ease the situation and slaps his friend, "Hey--! No. Definitely not okay to touch a woman when she's sleeping unless she's into it!"

They'd all paused when you'd giggled out and leaned in, your eyes dark and hazy while you were chewing on your lip in a drunken, happy daze. "Who said I'm not into it?"

Minho sighs out in bliss and glances down to watch as the head of his cock catches on your clit, your hips stuttering forward a bit but unable to move with the way he holds your panties tight. He has to do it again - and again. It’s so cute, watching your hips try to wiggle away from his cock at the sudden stimulation only to settle back down once he stops. His teeth sink back into his lip as he moves in - just so he can sink into your thighs as deep as he can. His body wracks with a shudder when he sees that his balls are pressed flush to you - as close as possible - just imagining that it’s your sopping pussy instead of your thighs.

His cock ruts against the plush of your skin until he's whimpering against the back of your neck. Unable to keep from pressing closer and closer, his hand leaves your breast so he can simply tighten his arm over and around you, pressed to your torso to pull you back against his own. Minho presses his body closer and you seem to sink into his warmth - his chest pressed to your own and the soft, welcoming sweetness of his tummy flush to your back. He'd been eating well - eating more - since Chuseok, and even let himself indulge in the sugar of the Reeses down in the candy cauldron. And now you got to experience it right up against your body, along with the weight of a thick thigh slipping over both of your own to hold you down.

And he relishes in the way your thighs press together because of him. His cock twitches in need, cum spurting from the tip and painting your skin white as his hips fumble behind your own. Minho peeks down to watch, pulling back in an attempt to keep it from hitting your skin in a panic that it’ll wake you from your slumber. Though it's far too late for that - so he has to think of something. Some way to get rid of it.

He decides it's best to get rid of it in a way he thinks is.. insanely hot. Not that he would ever admit that aloud.

He lets two fingers drag over your thigh, collecting the cum that he'd... tried so not-hard to get on you, and slowly parting his fingers to watch it string between them. Minho sighs, head tipping to look for a better angle.

His hand settles back on your ass, gliding down your skin with care until his cum, now less sticky and almost completely gone, was rubbed into your skin. Smothered over you - a soft sheen to your pretty pink ass that was warm from his constant and incessant rubbing.

Minho relaxes back shortly after. He gently fixes your panties so they're loose and settled once more, comfortable against your skin and no longer pulling so tight at the pussy he’d just been rutting up against like some poor dog in heat. Laying back away from you and staring up at the ceiling, his hands tug on his boxers to tuck himself away and he lets out a breath in relief. And, well, release.

He feels you shift beside him and falls a bit stiff when you roll onto your back as well, shoulder laying atop his as you settle comfortably. He relaxes when you once again become still, eyes darting down as your hand slowly comes up to cup his cheek. He sucks in a breath, chest raising beneath your arm as it rests over top of his torso. Minho shifts, head slowly tipping in your direction to see you already looking back at him with soft and lidded eyes - clouded like before, only this time not from the alcohol you’d consumed.

"Is that all?"

Taglist : @crybabykurominho @softkisshyunjin @minniesverse @dwaekkicidal @lixies-favorite-cookie @bookheadeily @jeonginsleftcheek @madkati @jisunglyricist @millseyes-world @warpedspirit @lovetaroandtaemin

#stray kids smut #skz smut #skz headcanons #stray kids headcanons #kinktober #bboki's kinktober!!#skz kinktober #Kpop smut #Kpop kinktober #lee know smut #lee know x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader

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traegorn · 21 days ago

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Girl you can rant and rave all day but we all know for a fact you can't vote your way out of this mess so your "genuinely, what else can we do?" sounds like pure cucked defeatism. This downward spiral of American fascism has proven stable, so no, voting isn't going to stop it. The democrats will never be pushed left - as proven by blatant history. I know this is your cue to list a bunch of social services or civil rights concessions a la #bidenwins but the drip violence of homophobia and abortion restrictions under republicans does not come close to the bipartisan armed tyranny that murders people in broad daylight.

Voting isn't going to solve any of this, and no voting isn't going to "clear the way" or make it easier to resist. Democrats have proven over and over and over again they will use the full force of violence to stop anything that truly threatens them and the ONLY WAY to stop American fascism is to threaten them, to threaten the very foundations of the system itself.

You exert all this effort, have all this pained frustration, over the weakest political action you can take. You are not challenging fascism or tyranny or helping any of the people harmed under bipartisan violence. You ignore these people and focus on "harm reduction" for the few who do benefit from the pitiful social safety nets democrats eke out only to be undermined in the next four or eight years as republicans INEVITABLY take back power. Such is the case of a two party system, as history proves. You're staving off the inevitable by exerting all this energy into electoralism, and the people you "save" by electing democrats are inevitably hurt anyways when republicans INEVITABLY take back power - because that's what the system guarantees.

You exist in a cycle of abuse with the American government, a punishment-reward system under the 2 parties that keeps you afraid of punishment and too desperate for reward that you ignore how the hand that feeds you is also putting kids in cages and blowing up babies overseas. You, and everyone who thinks like you, will never be the ones to save anybody.

Idk I was pissed and now got all sad again after writing this. Just so you know my being sad at the state of your ideology isn't a representation of my passivity that people like you like to construe - I am painfully politically active. But it's just...sick. You're stuck in an abusive cult and now I just feel bad for you

I'm usually a lot nicer when I reply to folks, but you brought a certain energy that deserves a different response. I want to be clear to any passersby who I'd normally be polite to in this kind of conversation: This energy is reserved only for chucklefucks who bring this kind of shit to me. Please do not take this as a reflection as to how I'd treat people willing to engage honestly and civilly with me. This anon came to me unprovoked, so they're getting a rather unique response.

So here we go.

Oi, shit head. This was the stupidest thing I've read all day.

Democrats 100% have moved left in the last 40 years. Are we still recovering from when they got dragged right by Reagan in the 80s? Yes. But we've made headway getting things back on track. You claim a lot of stuff here, but don't cite a single example. Likely because you just repeat what someone else told you on TikTok that one time. You couldn't find your way through actual theory if it smacked you in the face with its dick. But you don't want me to actually justify it.

Because your own words told me you'd dismiss any evidence I provided:

I know this is your cue to list a bunch of social services or civil rights concessions a la #bidenwins but the drip violence of homophobia and abortion restrictions under republicans does not come close to the bipartisan armed tyranny that murders people in broad daylight.

Bitch, this shit is a sliding scale. Trump authorized more drone strikes than Obama did in eight years. Are they bad? Yes. But if you're telling me you want more murders, Trump's your guy. Guess what, living in America means dealing with the fact that you've been complicit in genocide this whole time. Look at the land you stand on -- it is soaked in blood. Look at the smart phone you're reading this on, it literally came out of a genocide.

You bathe in blood every day, fucking figure it out.

We do our best to minimize harm. And if you'd ACTUALLY read or watched anything I've said, your two half dead braincells would have noticed the part where I constantly say "voting is not the end of your activism." It's the fucking start.

Either Harris or Trump will be the next President. Trump will be worse. If you aren't doing everything you can to stop him, you're not a leftist, you're a grandstanding piece of shit who doesn't care about anything other than the smell of your own farts.

You want to fuck up the two parties? Great. Put in the fucking work -- because the Presidential election ain't it, shithead. Build a real movement from the ground up. Build community, build a party system, run local candidates. When's the last time your ass went to a city council meeting or a school board meeting? Do you even know when they're held where you live?

But let's face it, you couldn't coalition build if you tried because you're so far up your own ass you kiss your small intestine goodnight.

Daddy Revolution ain't coming, shithead. There's work to do, so get your head out of your ass and do it.

You want Trump to win? Netanyahu would kiss you on the lips for it. Fuck off.

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prismalmelonman · 4 months ago

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Touching on Gale, Wyll, and Halsin's traumas being a bit undermined in parts of the fandom

So one thing I notice on Twitter is how some people act about the bg3 characters whose abuses were perpetuated by women.

Gale specifically for this reason (but I will touch on others)bbecause I see him dismissed super often as "can't get over his ex".

But Gale's case obviously be has the line of Mystra being like "she was my muse, my teacher, and then my lover" and sure to some that's a red flag in itself (when it comes to adults I don't really give a fuck about teacher/student) but if you view it from not only Gale's own words "ive been connected with the weave for as long as i can remember"

And that doesn't distract from his genuine love of magic of course. And it also doesn't mean that he's actually been in connection with mystra for an amount of time.

However, if you ascend Gale, and he becomes a god, you get a bunch of new little things. Tara reminiscing of course, but you get a letter from Elminster, detailing that Mystra had Elminster scope out Gale when he was eight!

And sure is that pretty cool that he's a prodigy that got the attention of the goddess of magic at that age? Yes. Mystra is, however, known in forgotten Realms lore to seek young young boys who are in tune with magic to make into her chosen. And from context clues, her chosen can be anything from Elminster and Volo, dedicated wizards who try to keep things in check, etc etc. or they're somewhat of playthings to her.

Minsc also has a conversation where me mentions that weave-touched boys in his homeland were hidden away to hone their craft, then suspecting that it was because of Mystra, given Gale's case.

Gale always seems so proud that he got to bed a goddess, and on the surface, hell yeah, that's cool.

Gale continued to have her attention even as he went to Blackstaff Academy, and Mystra eventually did take him on as an apprentice directly to her, later making him her chosen, and sleeping with him.

The reason it bothers me that people dismiss all of Gale's stuff to just "he can't get over his ex" is because that's is like almost textbook grooming? She was in his life from a young age, shaping and moulding him up as he grew up to be her perfect chosen, rewarding him by sleeping with him, and so on. And then of course casting him away when he has his folly with the netherese orb (and to be fair, it very well could have looked like to her that he was trying to seize the power himself and yes the orb does siphon off weave. That is a problem for the mistress of the weave yes).

But she also tells gale to KILL HIMSELF for her forgiveness.

Gale is much more than "unable to be over his ex" this woman was in his life since he was a kid. She's almost all he has ever known. If course it's going to be difficult for him to 1. Say no to her. 2. Get over the fact that he's lost someone that he spent his literal entire life dedicated to. Honestly if asked, I don't even think Gale would acknowledge or really see that what he went through was, in fact, abuse until it was spelled out in front of him. (Which does happen somewhat with the player character pleading to him that killing himself for mystra's forgiveness is actually horrific and that he should in fact be angry for how he was treated)

Similarly, and this one has been discussed a lot, Wyll and Mizora. Wyll was 17 and actively trying to help his people. 17, in a vulnerable state, willing to do anything to help and prove himself. Mizora very clearly took advantage of him, and regards him as a "pet", refers to him being "leashed", and so on. Personally, I do dislike the sexualization of their relationship, because it very much is also grooming (although a different type. Rather than manipulating and shaping his life from the ground up, she takes advantage of a vulnerable and desperate state to manipulate and contract Wyll into doing her bidding. I won't go too deep I to this one because it has been discussed to hell and back. But I did wanna touch on Wyll's situation as well.

Also, Halsin as well, though that has also been discussed in many retrospectives by a very good friend of mine. Halsin's trauma often get dismissed due to his polyamory, open sexual nature, and his own somewhat diminishing/dismissal of it, which honestly I love the representation of, cause for a while I did that with my own trauma. Halsin was a sex slave to a house of Lolth-Sworn drow, a matriarchal society, where the men are generally used as fodder or for breeding, though male Lolth-Sworn drow can be wizards and rise in the ranks if wizardry, but are limited everywhere else. (Minthara mentions that the third male, and every subsequent male child after third are killed for being"useless"). Halsin often referred to them as "hosts" rather than being captors, (though he does touch on that if the Player Character threatens to sell him back into slavery). Again, everything I'd have to say here for Halsin has entirely been discussed top to bottom by a friend, their link is below!!

Anyway, long story short, I dislike it a lot when Gale, Wyll, and Halsin's traumas and abuses get diminished, even if/when the character themself doesn't see or acknowledge the abuse in the same lens that we, the players, do.

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aidaronan · 2 years ago

Text

"First movie you ever saw in theaters?" Steve lounged opposite of Robin on the couch in his living room, the stereo on low, spitting out Madonna on the local radio station.

"Oh, that's easy." Robin bit off part of a licorice. "Freaky Friday. I remember because I was terrified for weeks that I'd end up switching places with my mom and have to, like, balance a checkbook or something."

Steve laughed, separating m&ms in his hand. "You still don't know how to balance a checkbook, do you?"

"Like you do." Robin playfully glared at him. "Okay, here's a good one. First kiss."

Steve ate the sole blue m&m first, a grin spreading across his face because he usually lied about his first kiss, but he didn't have to. Not with Robin. "Camp Stronghold when I was nine. We met up in the boathouse after lights out to trade contraband."

"Contraband, huh?" Robin raised her brows.

"Candy. I swear my parents loaded me up like I was going to prison. 'This is as good as cash in there, Steven.' I think my dad wanted me to network or something. Because, you know, I was totally gonna start a small business with a group of eight-year-olds."

Robin snickered. "And the kiss?"

"Ah. I didn't actually want candy. I just wanted this kid to like me so bad, and I didn't know why until we were there in the dark tripping into each other because we couldn't see. I had all these butterflies, and we were standing close enough that I could feel the heat off his sunburn in the air." Steve could still picture it. The way he couldn't see more than a few inches in front of his face. "Then he kissed me, just this quick peck on the lips before he turned tail and ran. I left the boathouse with a Snickers and one massive first crush."

"Did anything else happen?" Robin asked.

"No. It was the last week of camp and I think he freaked himself out over it. I don't know. He didn't even really say bye to me after we climbed off the bus to meet our parents. Never saw him again. I honestly never even thought to get his name."

"That sucks."

"Yeah. I just hope he's doing okay, you know? That he's got people in his life that make him feel like he's allowed."

Robin looked at him softly, reaching out to give his ankle a squeeze. "Hey, you never know. You might run into him again someday. Maybe he's your soulmate or something."

"Please. I think you're pretty obviously my soulmate." Steve nudged Robin with his foot. "But I guess he could settle for 2nd place."

"Oh, there's a toast for sure." Snacks tumbling off her lap, Robin reached for her can of Coke on the coffee table and raised it as high as she could reach. "To both of us finding our 2nd places."

"Cheers to that." Steve thrust his own Coke into the air.

____

It felt like a big cosmic joke that Steve would be in a boathouse when he realized who Eddie Munson had been all that time. Eddie had looked so different when he'd transferred into Hawkins that Steve had never even given him a second look, not during their shared classes, not during any of those cafeteria tirades. Not during the numerous occasions where he gave the kids rides to D&D.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait!"

It was the eyes that finally pulled back the curtain and cut away all those in-between years. Steve had never been close enough to clock them, but he couldn't deny them now. Not at such close range, Eddie holding a broken bottle against his neck, trembling with so much fear that Steve worried he might actually use it.

Dropping the oar from his own shaking hands, Steve said the only thing he could think to say.

"Well, this brings back memories."

Eddie didn't respond, the fear in the air drawing out every second, making it feel infinite. Behind them and in another universe, Dustin said a bunch of stuff Steve barely heard for the pounding in his ears. He watched beads of sweat roll down Eddie's forehead and waited for something to give.

Like clouds fat with rain, Eddie finally broke open, tension draining out of him, arm and weapon dropping to his side. He exhaled a shaky breath, maintaining eye contact, his expression too complicated for Steve to fully read.

Steve was about to say something else when Eddie finally spoke, cocking his head to the side and leveling Steve with a look.

"And here I spent all these years thinking you forgot."

#steddie #ficlet #mine #long post #first kisses

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hello-eden · 5 months ago

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I have an au idea where Vlad Masters is raising like a 12-year-old Ellie an eight year old Dante situation is Danny permanently unconscious until Vlad can do something to fix it

The idea is Vlad did something down to get both him and Danny caught by the giw Danny trying to save Dante and Danielle ended up getting himself hurt where now he's practically unconscious they ended up moving to Gotham which is in a different dimension

out of nowhere new billionaire Vlad Masters is now stuck raising Danielle his 12 year old daughter and Dante is 8 year old son both who seem to hold a large dislike to him and will be willing to open voice their opinions

Danny in a room in the Master's mansion in Gotham that leads to like a pocket dimension in the infinite Realms glass coffin with a portrait of Danny and a bunch of like flower stuff around it

Dante and Danielle go out as there antiheroes and steal any magical artifact they can find and give it to Vlad so we can try to engineer it to help Danny wake up

Instead of it being Tim that's mostly suspicious this time it's actually Damien Danielle and Damian are both in the same predicament we're being incredibly gifted and being in high school even though they're like 12 years old

Damian has been able to notice the hostility that Danielle Masters seems to have it against Mr Masters but talk about dear Mother like they were an angel

Why Dante Master seems to blame both his Mother for leaving him alone with Mr Masters Damian is on the case to see her none of this a case of abuse or something even deeper

I like the idea of Dan being the younger sibling and Danielle being older also misunderstandings

I like

There definitely is a misunderstanding that Vlad is the one keeping Danny in the coma.

#dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #damian wayne #batfamily #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp prompt #dcxdp #dp x dc crossover #de aged dani #de aged ellie #de aged dan #vlad plasmius

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lilystyles · 11 months ago

Text

wildest dreams.

part two of style, written by @lilystyles

my masterlist & style masterlist

authors note the very requested part two of style. i got lots of asks & reblogs & comments asking for more of style!H so i decided to write one for y'all. thanks for all the love on it. also there was one ask i got with the idea of y/n going on a blind date and i LOVED it so thank u anon 🩷

brief description y/n and harry start to see each other more and more. but it's a secret, things get complicated when emma sets y/n up on a blind date. harry doesn’t like it one bit.

warnings! slight age gap, SMUT (f!receiving, fingering, daddy kink, missionary, riding, very slight breeding kink, no condom, all the good stuff) sexual tension, mentions of drugs&alcohol abuse. wordcount: (around 15k words)

fratboy!older!bffsbrother!harry x younger!innocent!reader

* * * * *

Harry arrived at Y/n’s massive and buzzing share house almost twenty minutes before eight.

He’d parked his car nearby and quietly realised to himself on the walk up the driveway that he’d never actually been inside the sharehouse before. He had dropped her off a fair few times and picked her up a handful from here but Y/n preferred to come stay at his place. He couldn’t blame her, Niall’s place was similar he lived in one of the frats nearby campus. His room and the house were disgusting and Harry much preferred his clean quiet house with his sister. Even though Harry was in a frat too, he lived out of the house. The only reason those guys had welcomed him into the frat in the first place was because he was on the Uni soccer team and he was really good. His room was turned into a storage room for alcohol, dartboards, and bongs. Harry had hooked up with a few girls in there regardless of the lack of bed.

He felt a funny feeling in his tummy walking up the driveway, since when did he get nervous? He’d been with so many people he didn’t think that existed for him anymore. But this was different, this wasn’t just anyone this was Y/n. His Y/n. The girl from home.

He looked up at the house biting his lip, Y/n’s place certainly wasn’t as trashy as Alpha Chi Sigma, thankfully. Hers was a little ways off campus it was this old run-down brick house with two stories and eight rooms. It was jam-packed with students and actually threw quite a few parties, known on campus for its great big backyard and one of Y/n’s roommate Mike's weed brownies. Y/n didn’t care all that much when parties happened, she’d either invite Emma and they’d have lots of tequila and end up asleep in Y/n’s room, or she might even invite Harry and his mates too just for fun. Otherwise she just locked her room and escaped to the library or the Styles’ place.

As Harry reached the big red door he knocked loudly and a short girl opened the door before his knuckles had even retracted back to his side. He recognised her from his Economics class, he thought. She was in some pyjamas and looked up very confused.

“You're not the Chinese guy.” She said eyeing him annoyedly, groans escaped the mouths of others inside, and he could understand their disappointment. “Who are you?”

This made Harry feel suddenly rather guilty for not being the Chinese delivery guy and he frowned, “I’m Harry, ‘m a friend of Y/n’s?”

“Upstairs third door to your left.” She said shortly opening the door wide enough to let him in before promptly sitting back down on the couch with a bunch of other students, they were watching what looked like a Japanese horror film.

Harry shut the door behind him and made his way upstairs quickly, Y/n’s roommates didn’t seem all that friendly, he hoped was going in the right direction. As he reached the top of the stairs he heard music coming from one room that sounded like a rave and knew that definitely wasn’t Y/n’s room, he heard people chatting away in another, and when he was at the third door he saw a small sign on the door that said ‘Y/n’s Room <3’. He smiled at the familiar neat handwriting that was on so many birthday cards in his collection, and knocked on the door, with a few quick taps.

He heard some shuffling behind the door and it wasn’t long before the door swung open. There she was, his Y/n. Even though he’d only seen her a few hours ago it felt like a long time ago now. How did he already miss her?

“You're here early, Styles.” She said surprised checking the time on her phone in her hand. Harry didn’t seem the type to show up early, and normally he didn’t Y/n knew that about him from years of experience. He was even late to his own birthday parties and if you asked a single person who had hooked up with him they’d say he was always late when they invited him over. Just his way. He wasn’t a timely person.

Harry smiled down at her form, she looked much more rested than this morning. She had taken a nap for a good portion of the morning and a long shower cleaning every inch of herself, she felt very rejuvenated now. The warm water had soothed her aching muscles and small bruises that littered her body from last night. She’d washed off all the sweat and alcohol that had sweated out of her this morning, and her hangover had eased, thank god. She had taken some aspirin for her head too and drank lots and lots of water.

She looked so soft and cosy, the golden light of her room hit her face, showing all the angles of her calm expression. She was wearing this matching tracksuit set that was a blue almost grey colour, and some fuzzy pink socks Emma bought her for Christmas last year. Her hair was freshly washed, dried, and styled in her usual way. Her beautiful face was bare of makeup only some moisturiser that smelt really good, and her lips were covered in a glossy lip balm.

“Wanted to make a good impression, Babe.” He said smirking.

Y/n let him join her inside shaking her head, it was very unlike him to be on time and she’d expected he would arrive around 8:30 instead of 8. He placed his bag of snacks and DVDs down onto her little bed taking in the space.

Her room was so her, she had this big mattress on the floor that took up most of her room. Her sheets were mismatched shades of pink, blue, and lavender and she had about a dozen pillows. She had lots of fairy lights strung up, posters, and photos covering her walls. Her mattress and little desk by her window near the back of the room took up most of the small space. But if she had picked a bigger room that meant having a roommate so she didn’t mind all that much.

It was quite neat in here. She had all her desk organised with her laptop and textbooks. Her cupboard had somehow miraculously shut despite the large array of clothes stuffing it. She had a candle burning that smelt like cinnamon cookies, but underneath the candle was the underlying smell of her. Whether that was her laundry detergent or something that was just her, Harry didn’t know, but the smell brought him great comfort.

He shrugged off his big thick coat too, the day had turned into a windy-rainy one and he wanted to stay warm, but Y/n’s room was very warm inside. He was in an ashen grey hoodie with red flannel over the top, some black jeans and sneakers. His hair was unruly as always but he looked extra good today. He made himself comfortable on the bed grabbing a pink bear and cuddling it to his chest playfully. He dwarfed her bed with his tall form, and he looked so funny sitting in her bed. Harry Styles, sex god, player, and party animal, with a rotten attitude, was curled up in her bed. She almost wanted to take a picture to show people, but she knew she wouldn’t be telling a soul about him being with her tonight.

“I’ve known you for years I already have all the impressions needed, Harry.”

He looked over at her from her bed. “Yeah, but you’ve never seen me on a date before, have yeh? I can be wholesome.”

What? This is a date?

Y/n blushed deeply, if she’d known that this was a date she would have dressed a bit nicer. She was just in some joggers and a hoodie, but to be fair to her they were her nice ones. The ones lacking ice cream stains and holes. Harry had seen her looking like a hungover mess, he’d seen her in the middle of the night at the library, he’d seen her with the flu, and she never looked bad even at her worst.

“This is a date?” She asked looking down at her sock-covered feet.

She’d been dreaming of this day since she was a kid when Harry had helped her when she fell off her bike and scraped her knee. She still remembered the day vividly, it was something she thought of every time they all went home to Holmes Chapel for the holidays or summertime, and they drove passed the playground. She still had the scar their on her right knee, even now. And she remembers Harry putting the bandaid on for her and kissing her knee to ‘take the pain away’. Every time she felt the little bump or saw the lighter patch of skin on her knee she thought of him kissing it. She’d stopped crying after he’d done that and from that day on, her heart belonged to him.

She thought if they ever did somehow end up together on a date, that’d he would take her for a drive or they’d go to the cinema. Something normal. Maybe even a romantic stroll somewhere or something wild like skinny dipping. But instead here he was in her room making himself at home in her little bed where she’d spent hours thinking of him; before her eyes finally allowed her to sleep.

He laughed at her shy expression, patting a spot on the bed beside him for her to sit. “Wasn’t I obvious about that?”

She sat down beside him, laughing at herself she didn’t know much when it came to dating, she’d only had two or so boyfriends. She’d tried the one-night stand thing once but it wasn’t for her. She didn’t know dating etiquette. So she was all stiff beside him now feeling even more nervous than before he’d arrived. This whole thing with Harry frankly didn’t feel real, she’d liked him for so many years and only now was he starting to show similar feelings toward her, it honestly tripped her out a lot. It would be like your celebrity crush showing up at your door with flowers, a bit of a dream, right?

“Not to me.” She said looking at him. He smelt deliciously good beside her, and she wanted to devour him.

He looked over at her with the same eyes he’d given her in the kitchen when she’d comforted him, all soft and molten like an ice cream on a hot day. As he lifted his hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, she leaned into his touch, his hand was so warm and smooth against her face. He was so gentle with her and she felt her mind flashback to last night for what felt like the millionth time when his hands were all over her body. Though they’d been a bit wild, he was always gentle with her unless she asked him otherwise.

“Well I’m sorry, but this is a date, is that alright with you?” He asked, nibbling his bottom lip to contain a smile. She was just so cute, sitting there in front of him like a doe-eyed little thing. You’d have thought that she barely knew him with how she was acting.

She nodded. “Fine by me.”

“Good to hear, Baby.” He sighed at her because she still seemed very nervous. He didn’t know how to comfort her other than touch. “Why are you so far away? You know I don’t bite, not unless you ask me to.”

She looked over at him, “I’m just nervous, I guess. If my fourteen-year-old self could see me now…”

She didn’t finish her sentence.

This made his heart swell. “You're nervous around me? Even after everything we did last night?”

She shrugged like that was an obvious conclusion. “Well, yeah…of course.”

This made him throw his head back laughing, like a little kid. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous too. S’okay to be nervous. But don’t worry it’s just me. Nothing special.”

That made her feel better, she looked up at him, a smile cracking on her face. “You're nervous too?”

He nodded. “Of course I am. I’m on a date with a gorgeous girl, I’d be a fool not to be.”

Y/n pecked his cheek in response, her lips smearing against the tiny stubble on his cheek, as she quickly moved away and opened the bag excitedly to see the things he’d brought. He brought snacks as requested all their favourites (peanut M&Ms, popcorn, and a tub of Ben & Jerry’s) along with a few DVDs. The one he had been raving about was in there and she grabbed it putting it on the very small telly she had by the end of her bed.

Harry explained a story about how he went to three different grocery shops to find the peanut M&Ms because apparently, the world was in a shortage today. This made Y/n want to kiss him because he’d gone to all that effort knowing Y/n’s favourite movie snack was M&Ms. Whenever they went to the cinema she always got them, and the three of them would go a fair amount. They loved going late at night and talking loudly in empty cinemas about how cheesy the films were.

She looked at him from the edge of the bed. He’d kicked his sneakers off into the corner and he was resting on her bed, head lying on her pillow, a knitted blanket over his lap. He looked very comfy and at ease, and honestly, he was. The smell of her bed was comforting and the soft tone of her voice was soothing. Y/n had a way of driving him crazy, usually when her attention wasn’t on him, but a way of calming him instantly when their eyes met.

“You hungry? I want pizza.” She asked brows pinched in thought.

He nodded grabbing his phone to call them. “Sure. Joeys?”

“I think I want a ha—”

“Hawaiin with no pineapple, I know, you freak. Who doesn’t like pineapple?”

“Me.” She said. She’d never really noticed how observant Harry was until now. He knew her pizza order, he knew she liked peanut M&Ms, he knew her chamomile tea brand, and he knew she liked popcorn extra buttery. Which happens when you have history like they do, but she never thought he cared that much. So what if she knew he liked pepperoni with extra spice? She was obsessed with him for most of her adolescence, that made sense. But why did Harry know that? She was the obsessed one.

“Hey mate, yeah can I get a large Hawaiin no pineapple please, and large pepperoni extra spicy, and a loaf of garlic bread too thanks.” He said into the phone.

Y/n told Harry her address in a hushed tone and he parroted it to the pizza guy on the phone. The pizza would arrive in 20 minutes from now, so Y/n joined his side happily and hit play on the telly. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder so she could rest against his side, and it all felt very domestic. Her cheek was resting against him and she felt her eyes drooping even though she’d already napped today.

Y/n normally cuddled with Emma and watched movies on her shoulder while Harry brooded on the leather recliner and complained when the girls picked a rom-com of some kind. But she saw him cry during The Notebook last month. He always said Spiderman was his favourite movie but she knew it was actually The Notebook.

She felt guilty at the thought of her best friend, and a pang in her tummy. Normally if a guy had even made eye contact with her Y/n was blowing up her phone with every detail, that’s what best friends are for. But she couldn’t tell her about Harry. They’d stop being friends. Emma and Y/n had many friends who had come and gone because of Harry, she didn’t blame any of them for shagging him. He’s always been attractive and shaggable, but she knew better than to get with him then and she didn’t know what had done it but lately, he’d just been irresistible last night and right now.

Maybe back then she just had more self-control. Y/n remembers a girl named Cami the most. She and Harry hooked up once drunkenly at a party Gemma had thrown while Anne and Robin were away and the next morning Emma and Y/n walked in on her giving him a blowie. Cami was then banned from any other sleepover. Which was a shame because Cami was super nice, it made Y/n wonder if those years of friendship protected her from Emma’s harsh banishment or if that didn’t count.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” He asked her playing with the strands of loose hair resting against his arm.

She looked up at him away from the telly she’d zoned out on. “I- Em.” She said.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I knew it would be something you’d be thinking about.”

She sighed. “Yeah, I just- she’s gonna hate me, H. I want you, but you know I can’t.”

Harry knew Emma was Y/n’s number one person and they were basically like sisters, Y/n was a part of his family, though he’d never seen her in a particularly brotherly way. She came on holidays overseas with them, she was invited to family dinners, and they’d even had a Christmas Eve together a few times in the past couple of years. And that wasn’t something he would ever try and get in the way of, Y/n being there was what made him want to attend. Because he loved that Y/n was a part of his life in that way and he’d grown up with her, he loved having her around. He cherished those moments and even though he didn’t act like it, he would miss her when she wasn’t there. Last Christmas Eve she was with her Grandparents and he’d hated playing Scrabble without her.

She had no idea of any of his true feelings. Which was his own fault, he knew that, he was purposefully rude to Y/n to keep her at arm's length, and acting like she didn’t exist to try and suffocate his feelings from her. Emma was behind that, ever since he could remember he wasn’t allowed to share Y/n. Emma was always reminding him when his eyes lingered on her longer than they should, that Y/n was Emma’s best friend, off limits. And despite how he felt about her he’d listened to keep Y/n out of the drama of Emma’s wrath.

But Harry cared for Y/n very deeply and he wished Emma wasn’t so weird about it. Why couldn’t they both just share her? And anyway, it was Y/n’s decision, not Emma’s. She wasn't a toy she was a person, who made her own decisions whether or not Emma approved. Normally Emma’s judgement was the only thing Y/n needed to make a decision, but when it came to Harry she had to disagree.

And anyway, she seemed pretty happy to be wrapped up in his arms right now, despite knowing what trouble it would cause if anyone found out. She knew it was wrong to lie, and hide, but she didn't think it was wrong be around Harry. That's what felt right.

“I know she doesn’t like people getting involved with me.” He began, “But that’s only because they always get hurt by me and it becomes a whole thing. But I would never hurt you.”

His reassuring words made her feel better but she looked up at him, with one more worry. “How is this any different than you and Cami, Lacey, or Tiffany—” She was about to continue her long list of girls but he cut her off.

“Because you're the only one for me.”

Y/n was about to ask him what he meant by that but the doorbell rang. “That’s probably pizza.”

She sat up and left before he could say anything else.

She was happy to be with him and she enjoyed his company and his cuddles but this whole thing scared her a lot. There were a lot of risks in going down this path with him and she was painfully aware of all the risks, she knew every single one and the reason she hadn’t gotten with him before now was because she knew it was dangerous for her to get involved with such a gorgeous devilish creature.

Don’t get her wrong she trusted Harry with her life. But that doesn’t mean she trusted him when it came to his relationships. He’d never had a girlfriend, all the girls thought they were his girlfriends but he never saw any of them as more than a shag. Which is fine, but she knew she couldn’t be satisfied with just a shag. Her heart was too soft for that boy to only want his dick.

When Y/n came back with the warm pizzas burning her hands Harry was sleepily cuddling her bear in bed and she felt her heart melt and let her thoughts melt away too. They ate the pizza in bed and all worries were washed away as they distracted themselves with Y/n’s favourite film. When Harry Met Sally.

Harry remembered the countless times this movie was on at midnight when he came downstairs to see Y/n asleep on his couch using it to tune out Emma’s snores.

Her eyes stung with sleep as she watched tonight, it comforted her, and the smell of Harry and the gentle sound of his heartbeat lulled her to sleep. She fell asleep quickly into the movie and Harry only noticed when he was getting no replies from her during his complaints about how cheesy and unrealistic this movie was. When he realised she was asleep right there on his chest he stopped talking and moving; wanting to let her sleep there. He grabbed the knitted blanket from the bottom of their legs and brought it to just below her chin.

Kissing her forehead before focusing back on the movie. He thought Meg Ryan was pretty fit and the gentle breathing of Y/n was calming, it wasn’t long until he fell asleep too holding her very close to him. Not a worry about being caught, or oversleeping, just enjoyed the warmth of her body and the soft breaths that hit his neck.

It was a couple weeks later until Harry saw Y/n again and he hated to admit it to himself that he missed her, more than he’d ever missed anyone and it had just been a few days. She wasn't even his girlfriend, and she was already driving him up the wall.

She’d called him that afternoon and it brought out something in Harry he’d never expected to find within himself.

Harry was not a jealous person. He wasn’t possessive at all. Never had been and he never thought he would be. It just wasn’t who he was. He always thought it was because he just never had those feelings within him, he just didn’t care. He thought jealousy was stupid. What good came from it? Jealousy never accomplished anything.

He didn’t care if the people he’d been with had moved on or gotten with someone else, one time a girl he’d had a bit of a fling with for the Summer ended up hooking up with his best friend and he truly didn’t care. Like at all. They expected him to get angry, shout, or stop talking to them at least. But he didn’t he just shrugged and said something about how he understood. He found someone else to spend the night with quickly after their conversation, and when someone brought it up he completely forgot it had even happened, which shows how little he cared.

He just never got jealous, and it was something he felt was beneath him. Since he saw sex as such a casual and easygoing thing to him, he felt like he belonged to everyone and no one all at once and so he saw people as all the same. It was all just a blur of people and feelings. He was lucky, he never got sad after sex or disgusted he just felt a release, left, and that was that. He didn’t like to chat all that much, he was a fuck and leave kind of guy. If the person really needed a cuddle or some aftercare he wouldn’t just leave right away but he knew cuddling usually meant feelings growing, so he tried to avoid that at all costs too. Which to some was just awful to be around, and he could understand that too. Sometimes people wanted a connection that wasn’t just compatible kinks or sexual chemistry. Something deeper, love, burning lust, tenderness. That’s not to say Harry wasn’t a good lover, he was great no matter the person he could click well with them. He made them feel like they were the only two people in the world, but there was still a bit of a shadow to his love-making that made the people know that’s all it was.

Just a fuck, just a kiss, just an orgasm. Nothing more, nothing less.

He’d heard or read about people having sex that felt like fireworks or magic or something ridiculous and sappy and he’d thought it was all blown out of proportion. Sex was more primal and animalistic to Harry. It wasn’t something otherworldly. It was like eating, sleeping, or breathing. It was just a natural human experience and urge, and people needed it to survive a healthy life. It wasn’t tied to any emotions, just like eating a sandwich at lunch. Wasn’t anything to be ashamed of either.

And it certainly wasn’t ethereal, or at least it wasn’t until Y/n.

He hadn’t felt so connected with someone like that ever. In conversation, in sex, in life. She understood him, she accepted him, and despite their differences, it worked. And god, when they had sex it was just so time-stopping. Touching her was like touching heaven.

His jealousy, his attraction, made him realise he liked her. Like actually liked her, and that if this was what liking someone was that meant he never had before. He’d never liked anyone except her.

He’d never wanted to date someone, take care of them, and be with them without having to do anything. Just be together, you know?

Harry wanted to date Y/n, take care of her, and just be with her. The unfamiliar feelings rolled through his skin like a tidal wave. All these feelings were new to him, and it meant he didn’t know how to act. It was overwhelming and he didn’t know who to confide in.

Because now all of a sudden he was a jealous person? It just didn’t make sense. None of it did.

When he found out Emma had set Y/n up on a double date with her and Zayn, Harry was not one bit okay with it. He couldn’t have cared less if someone he’d been with fucked his best friend in front of him, but the idea of someone thinking they could talk to Y/n made his skin crawl. Someone getting to touch her like she’d let him, someone getting to kiss her sweet lips, whisper filth in her ear? He hated it. He hated the thought.

Jealousy burned his skin like wildfire and he didn’t know what to do. He knew Y/n wasn’t his girlfriend, but they’d been on a date now which meant more to him than any other interaction with any girl he’d ever had. It had been a perfect first date that eventually led to her falling asleep in his arms and him playing with her hair as he memorised every freckle on her face. They both woke up the next morning with a giggle and she walked him to his car her hand in his, and to his surprise kissed him against the hood of his car. It was enough to have him dazed and wanting more, her lips smeared against his excitedly with an innocent giggle. When she pulled away she whispered a breathless goodbye and he hadn’t seen her since.

They’d called a few times and chatted until the early hours of the morning about anything and everything, and he’d seen her at his house a few times. But he wasn’t allowed to act how he wished because Emma was always there, he’d always call Y/n when she was home complaining about how he wished things were different. But since neither of them knew what was going on yet they knew it was best to not tell her.

Y/n didn’t want to go on this double date. She couldn’t think of anything worse. Zayn’s friend Peter was a notorious prick on campus. He was just straight-up horrible and so jarring on the senses. They’d met here and there and Niall hated him too which was enough for Y/n to know everything she needed about the bloke.

Y/n was pretty sure no one liked him, not even Zayn. But Y/n agreed for Emma’s sake. She knew Emma really liked Zayn (or so she said) and this was one of ‘the only ways their date would happen’. But that didn’t make her not want to go any less. She called Harry as soon as Emma left her place to get ready.

He answered on the third ring.

“Hi, Baby.”

She could practically hear his smile. Things were going well for them. She thought the shift from whatever they once were to this would be awkward but it was easy. They were still teasing, and rude, but the words hardly had any edge anymore. Even when she swore at him it felt like a kiss and now when he stared at her Y/n noticed the softness in his eyes. Had that always been there?

“Hey, Styles.”

He sighed softly sitting down on his couch, “And to what do I owe this pleasure, Y/n?”

“Some bad news.”

He sucked a breath, “What’s wrong?” His voice melted into her spine, and he sounded worried. He was thinking the worst, and though this was pretty shitty it was nothing like he was thinking. He hoped she was okay.

“You know I like you, right?”

He nodded but forgot she couldn’t see. “Yes, I like you too, what is it?”

“I’m sorry, H, but I didn’t know how to say no without blowing our cover…” She said avoiding saying it. She didn’t know how he would react. He’d been so lovely, she didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“Spit it out, Trouble.” He said.

“Emma begged me to go on a double date so she could be with Zayn.” She said pinching her eyes shut and practically wincing on the other line.

“And what did you say?”

“I said yes, I’m sorry,”

Harry felt a pang of jealousy rush into his chest unfamiliarly. But he didn’t want to make her feel bad. He knew she hadn’t meant to hurt him. She sounded so guilty over the line, he was just glad she couldn’t see him. He was embarrassingly jealous. He felt winded as his hand moved up to his chest, squeezing where the pain was. Normally he always knew the right things to say, but he struggled to find the words. He was just pissed.

Emma, totally got in the way time and time again. It’s like she was out to sabotage them. He wanted to tell her off, but he knew better. Y/n would be mad if he did that.

“It’s fine, we only went on one date.” He said, but it didn’t come out like he wanted. He wanted to sound aloof and fine. But his voice came out forced.

Y/n sighed, he was right they had only been on one date. But she felt that it had meant more to her than any other dates she’d been on. And she was sure it would mean way more than this stupid date. “I know. But I wanted to tell you that I don’t like Peter. I hate that guy actually, he’s a fuckin’ prick….”

Harry despised Peter. Even more now. He got to be with Y/n all pretty in public on a date, Harry knew no one would treat her as well as he could. Harry knew what she wanted. What did Peter know?

“...But Emma asked me. And if I’d have said I was seeing someone else, involved in something serious, she would have drilled me like a Russian spy. You know that it’s very surprising for me to be seeing someone, she wouldn’t have let it go.”

Something serious. His heart swelled despite it all.

Harry let out a small laugh, “It’s okay, Y/n, really.”

“I don’t want to go, but it’s only for a few hours. Can I call you after?”

This made him smile, despite how pissed he was she was so cute. “Yeah, ‘course.”

“Okay, good, well I have to get ready, Styles, talk soon.” She said.

“Bye, Trouble” He hung up and his hands itched to do something. But he knew he couldn’t do anything he’d just have to wait for her call. The whole thing made him antsy.

Just as he hung up Emma walked through the front door. She was holding some shopping bags.

“What are you up to?” He asked. They looked like clothes and shoes.

She looked over with a smile. “Me and Y/n have a double date.”

He acted surprised standing up, “Oh yeah? With who?”

“Zayn and Peter.” She said walking to her room and Harry followed, wanting to know more details he’d been too afraid to ask Y/n.

“When?”

“Tonight, at seven,” Emma replied quickly hands looking through her racks of dresses, eyes far from Harry who had sat himself on her bed.

“Where?” He prodded.

She looked over, “What is this? 21 questions? Why do you care?”

“I’m not allowed to be interested in your life? Gosh, forgive me caring, Em.”

She rolled her eyes. “I thought we’d grown out of the protective thing?”

“I just worry about you two. Boys are pigs.”

Emma sighed. “You would know.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“We’ll be fine. It’s just at Andy’s Burgers. It’s super close to Y/n’s place. And your friends with those guys, you know they aren’t serial killers.”

His lips curled in disgust as his jaw clenched and defended himself. “Zayn is fine. Peter is not my friend at all. I hate him. He’s such a stupid twat. I don’t understand why would Y/n go out with him.”

Emma turned around her hands landing on her hips. “Because he’s hot and he’s supposed to have a big dick.”

This made Harry’s jaw clench hard. Peter better not try anything with Y/n, or he’d rip that dick off. “Why would Y/n care about something like that? Doesn’t she like guys with actual brain cells? Doesn't sound like her.”

Emma squinted, her brows pinching. “Like who, mate? It really is none of your business, Harry, we don’t question your awful taste. Anyway, I don’t see why you care? Y/n can get with whoever she wants.”

This made Harry’s stomach curl. No, she couldn’t. She could only be with him. He wanted her all to himself. No one was worthy of her, not even himself, but at least Y/n wanted him. She didn’t want Peter. She’d just told him he was a prick, she couldn’t want him.

Harry didn’t want anyone else, and he’d turned down a plethora of women and men since that night with Y/n in his bed. He’d avoided telling her that, to avoid upsetting her. He sat up, annoyed and beginning to feel his mind go on a loop of bad thoughts of Y/n with other people. Y/n kissing another boy. God, it made him feral with rage.

He shook himself out of the images pooling in his mind. “Whatever, I’m going to Niall’s. If you need me call me. Don’t let them drive you home if they’re drunk or summat.”

She nodded. “Thanks, H.”

He nodded getting up and leaving. “Bye, Em.”

“Catch ya.” She said.

Harry grabbed his phone, wallet, and keys and left. He was gonna blow off some steam with Niall. Anything to get his mind off Y/n sitting pretty beside that dickhead ginger Peter. Thoughts of Y/n drifted to the back of his mind as he played Mario Kart with Niall and talked shit about Niall’s new boyfriend Paddy, Niall met his mates last night and they’d been proper twats to him and Paddy tried to gaslight him later on when they got back to his flat. Niall ended up leaving in a fit of rage. Harry tried his best at giving advice, he wanted to confide in Niall about this whole Y/n thing but he knew it could blow up in his face. Not that he didn't trust Niall to keep it hushed.

Y/n’s thoughts however were on only Harry, she would do anything to be on a date with him right now. They could be sharing a milkshake and talking about music or their days, honestly with Harry she would be happy to watch paint dry, his company made anything infinitely better. He was fun, he was cheeky, and she could be herself.

But no, she wasn’t with Harry, she wasn’t having fun at all. And she could hardly be her normal self one bit. She had to be quiet and polite when all she wanted to do was roll her eyes and spit out what a dickhead this boy sitting in front of her was.

She was sat beside the stupid prick Peter sipping down this actually quite delicious peanut butter & chocolate shake that was new on the menu and munching on some fries to keep her lips and hands busy while he talked her ear off. She loved the food here. She and Emma came here all the time to study and eat their body weight in their fries which have this great chicken and spicy salt flavouring on.

She just wanted the date to be over. He was so dull. The only thing he’d talked about the entire date for the past hour was him. His father’s business, how he could’ve had a career in Hockey if he didn’t injure his knee in his final year of school, and then making jokes about his ‘big’ dick and laughing like the complete and utter Tory he was. Which Y/n knew was a load of crap because one time he’d sent it to Emma during their first year of Uni and it wasn’t horrible but it certainly wasn’t some magical penis like he was saying.

Even just by looking at his face, you could tell he had no idea where the clitoris was. (Harry knew where it was blindfolded and you could just by the cocky look on his gorgeous face).

Y/n honestly thought it would’ve been less painful to slam her head between a door repeatedly. Zayn and Emma were hitting it off from the other side of the booth. They were leaning in closer, giggling, flirting. She was happy for Emma, really she was, but she didn’t see why she or Peter had to come. They added nothing to this date.

She was thankful when dinner arrived, it meant the date was almost over. She dove into her burger eating quickly so she could make an excuse to not talk or look at Peter. She hoped if she finished quickly the date could end quickly too.

“Are you girls going to that party on Saturday?” Asked Zayn taking a sip of his strawberry shake.

Emma looked at Y/n swallowing her mouthful of cheesy fries. “That’s the one at Harry’s Frat. Niall’s idea.”

Y/n nodded, she’d only go if Harry did or Emma really wanted her there. “Oh, dunno. Maybe.”

Emma smiled. “It sounds fun. I love costume parties.”

Y/n sipped on her shake and looked down at her lap her phone had a message from Harry on it. She’d check when no one was looking. She thought it was cute that he was checking on her.

“Hate those guys though. So cocky.”

Y/n looked up and without thinking scoffed, staring him down. “Who Harry and Niall?”

Peter looked over. “Yeah. Think their god’s gift because their football team’s the most supported at the Uni. Bunch of twats.”

“Can’t be any worse than you.” She said, and Emma was surprised eyes widening from across the table, Y/n’s words held a bite. But she knew that despite Y/n’s soft timid nature, she did not put up with people saying rude things about people she cared about. She was generally a calm, soft, and kept to herself kind of person. But if someone said something she didn’t agree with she always spoke up. “At least their only point of conversation isn’t about their less-than-thrilling cocks and daddy’s money.” She rolled her eyes.

“Calm down, Babe. It’s a joke. We are all mates here.” Said Peter.

Her brows furrowed as she looked at Emma, why wasn’t she saying anything? If someone had said something about either Y/n or Emma to Harry he probably would have punched them without even thinking. And Niall too, Y/n remembers one time some guy smacked Y/n’s ass at a party and Niall had to be pulled off him by three people.

“Are you dumb? Niall is our best friend and Harry is Em’s brother, you really think we aren’t going to be annoyed if you talk shit about them? Who do you think you are, huh?” She said turning to look at him.

Emma diverted the topic to something else and eventually, when Peter and Zayn were talking about Hockey, she made a signal for Y/n to follow her to the loo. Y/n was still pissed, and very ready to go home, she felt herself stewing in the corner her rage burning up under her skin. She didn’t understand why Emma hadn’t said anything, and that frustrated her more. She really hoped Emma was devising a plan for their escape but when they stepped inside the bathroom Emma stared at herself in the mirror reapplying her lip gloss she said something Y/n very much did not want to hear.

“I know Peter was a dick, but did you really have to have a go at him?”

This made Y/n even more annoyed than before, she’d only come on this fucking date for her and now she was complaining about how she acted when Peter was the one acting like a prick. Y/n didn’t see why she was at fault.

She and Emma never argued, Y/n didn’t like this. Emma was always on her side, even if Y/n had been in the wrong Emma would always be on her side. And anyway, she was protecting Harry and Niall. Not just anyone. She didn’t go out of her way to make the conversation turn into her having a go at him.

“Yes. I did. I only came on this date for you so that you could be with Zayn. Which you could’ve done without me and Peter. He’s awful, and you two could’ve just gone and done something on your own I don’t see why I had to be here.” She said, arms folding and Emma watched her.

“And you know I don’t like when people are rude about our friends.”

Emma nodded. “I know Babe, sorry. I just didn’t want you to feel left out. You never go out with guys, I didn’t want to make you feel bad if me and Zayn start dating, you know?”

Y/n’s brows pinched, she was acting like that wasn’t Emma’s fault. Every boy she’d ever liked other than Harry, Emma had stolen or taken away. It’s like she wanted Y/n to be all hers. Not that it bothered Y/n much, if she couldn’t have Harry should didn’t want anyone anyway.

“I don’t care about boys.”

Emma sighed grabbing her hand. “I know, but it wouldn’t hurt to put yourself out there, Babe.”

“Okay, sure, I see your point. But Peter? Really?”

She laughed. “Yeah, your right, he isn’t really your type. But he was the only available one on a Friday night.”

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. “Yeah, wonder why.”

Emma tucked a strand of Y/n’s hair behind her ear. “Can I ask you one last favour?”

Y/n frowned eyes sharpening. “I’m not shagging him.”

Emma laughed tossing her head back. “No, not that.”

“Then what?”

“Can you get a lift home with Peter instead of me? I invited Zayn over, Harry’s gone to Niall’s for a bit. I need a good shag, and I need it now.”

Y/n sighed, a big groan leaving her lips. “Fine. But please make this date end soon. I don’t want to miss Murder She Wrote which starts at 9.”

Emma laughed. “Okay Grandma, don’t worry you’ll be tucked in bed in 30 minutes I can guarantee it.”

They stepped outside the loos walking back to their table and Y/n sat down on the side with Peter, sitting as close to the edge as possible. While the three were wrapped up in conversation Y/n quickly checked her phone she had a message from Harry still waiting for her reply.

Harry Styles 🍒

Call me as soon as you're home. Miss your voice.

This made her smile to herself, hearting the message before returning her attention back to the table. The three of them were talking and Y/n felt herself zone out staring out the window. Rain was dripping down against the windows. She was just thinking of Harry, and internally screaming at the fact she wasn’t on a date with him right now. He had become more clingy than she’d expected over the past few weeks, he called her a fair amount and they snuck talks in private when they could but they hadn’t had a chance to go on another date yet. The way he was so kind and clingy to her was honestly shocking, normally he was the best at a fuck and ghost. She assumed he’d do the same, which she knew she’d just pretend to be fine with and then probably lose her shit when she saw him with another girl.

But nothing had been as explosive as she thought it to be, and that was probably because Emma hadn’t the faintest idea.

By the time everyone finished their meals Zayn and Emma made a dash for it. Leaving their money on the table with the cheque. Zayn paid half and Peter paid the other. Emma kissed her cheek and patted Peter’s shoulder before the two raced away, giggling. Y/n was cranky at the fact Emma had only thought of herself the whole night and sighed leaning back into the seat of the booth. More than ready to leave.

Y/n frowned to herself as Peter seemed totally intent on keeping her there for a bit more of a chat.

She tried to be polite about needing to head home. Making up some project she needed to do, but Peter’s hand slid onto her knee and she felt disgust crawl up her spine. She felt uncomfortable.

“Maybe we could just pop into the loos then, I bet your into that kinda thing. Can tell."

Y/n’s jaw dropped and she pushed his hand off quickly, she tapped her phone and Harry’s number dialling instantly. He was in her favourites. She needed his help, she knew he would come. She brought the phone to her ear.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She said lips curling in anger.

Harry picked up on the second ring. “Hi, Baby.” He said, raspy. There was lots of noise, he must’ve been in the car driving home.

Peter grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. “C’mon, don’t be such a prude. I paid for your dinner. You owe me at least a blowie.”

Harry, spoke over the line into her ear. “Y/n?”

She snatched her wrist out from his rough palm.

“Get off me!” She shouted and grabbed the last of Emma’s milkshake from the table and threw it onto him. He flinched at the cold milkshake hitting his skin, his Ralph Loren polo was now caked in thick pink liquid, and his ginger hair was now soaked and dripping down over his eyes as he gasped.

“Bitch!” He shouted, wiping his hand over his eyes.

“Fuck yourself, you pathetic fucking prick.” She shouted pointing her finger at him. Harry had heard the interaction and his fingers curled against the steering wheel, knuckles turning white from his grip. He put his foot on the pedal. He was already turning the car around in her direction.

“Sorry, can you pick me up please, Harry? Peter’s a creep, I need you.”

“Of course, hang tight I’ll be there soon.”

Peter was shouting at her like the pathetic baby he was and some waitresses came over to help clean up the mess she’d made by throwing at him.

“Sorry,” She whispered to the cherry-haired girl who came over with a cloth and spray. The girl just laughed as Peter rushed over to the manager who had come out at the sound of the ruckus.

“It’s okay, he seems like he's a bit of a knob.” She said looking over at Y/n.

“Are you alright?” The blonde waitress asked from the other side of her.

“Yeah, he’s just a handsy asshole,” Y/n explained.

It took only a few minutes before the doorbell rang above the entryway door and Harry entered the restaurant. He looked dishevelled and his eyes were wild as he stepped inside. His hair was wet from having walked from his car to her, the thunderstorm outside had soaked him. The top of his grey hoodie was speckled in rain, and his eyes were all stormy and this dark green that Y/n melted over. He made his way over to her and she felt herself forget for a second why he was here.

She was just happy to see him.

“You okay?” He asked and she nodded, feeling relief flood her tummy. Harry always made her feel safe. He’d always felt like her protector even growing up. She remembered one time at her school dance some boys were trying to get Emma and Y/n in their car, they were drunk as skunks and she remembered Harry racing over and Y/n’s whose eyes were glassy with worry and he actually rubbed her arm. Then he drove them both to the party and made sure they were okay the whole night. He’d made her feel safe then too.

He rubbed her wrist, almost the same as that night at school. His thumb stroked it softly, as his eyes darted from hers to Peter who was still there. Covered in a milky pink drink, and swearing angrily.

Harry made his way over to him and grabbed him by the collar, in a rush of anger. He was bursting with anger and Y/n watched him surprised in her spot by the waitresses. She watched silently, expecting Harry to just tell him off. But he did more than that, Harry’s fist connected with Peter’s face and it made a slap, and he fell back onto the counter of the register with a bang.

His nose was bleeding upon the impact.

“If you ever touch her again I’ll fucking kill you. You hear me?” The calmness of his tone was actually chilling and Y/n felt herself tense up. Harry pushed him again. She knew if she let him he’d stay and pummel him for the rest of the night.

She walked over quickly and grabbed his arm softly. “C’mon, let’s just go. Can’t beat his awfulness out of him.”

“‘Can try.” He replied but ultimately he listened, pulling her into his side and they both apologised to the staff as they exited the restaurant. Harry’s hand slid into hers and she followed him to his car it was raining bad, big fat droplets hitting their faces as they walked steadily to the car. He opened the door for her and she slid in, he shut it when she was all tucked inside. The rain was coming down heavily and when he plopped in beside her he didn’t start the car, his hair was drenched and his eyelashes were thick with water. His face had turned soft again. He watched her for a beat. “Are you sure you're okay? I can go murder him if you want.”

She was silent for a second before turning to face him, she looked beautiful even with her frown. “Harry’s it’s fine. Can you just take me home?”

He nodded. She looked tired and frustrated, and in turn, this upset him. Y/n was too sweet to be treated like this. He wouldn’t let anything like that happen to her when he was around. He’d take care of his girl. The drive to Y/n’s house from the burger place really wasn’t far and she normally would’ve walked home if not for this heavy downpour of rain, and she had wanted Harry to be the one to comfort her. When Harry’s car pulled up outside the front of the house she looked over at him.

He was waiting for her to say she’d call him later and kiss his cheek but she didn’t. She looked up at him and sighed, bringing her hand up to push a loose curl away from his forehead.

“You wanna come up?” She asked.

He smiled. “You sure?”

She smiled bigger. “Yeah, come on.”

He turned the engine of the car off and just as Y/n went to open the door he said, “Wait.”

She listened, watching as he bolted out of his side of the car to go to her side and open the door for her. She giggled at the gesture. Harry really wasn’t what people thought.

He held his hand out for her to grab and she grabbed it as he helped her step down. The rain was heavy but neither of them seemed to care all that much considering they were both already soaking, and walked slowly up to her door. His hand was warm in hers and she shivered into his side. The rain had brought a chill to the air that nipped at her skin.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside pulling him in with her. The house was nice and warm, they’d been lucky enough to have an old fireplace still built in. It warmed the front rooms and meant their heating bill was much less since they only had to take care of a few small rooms. Harry followed her down the hall.

This was the second time he’d been here, so now he knew where her room was he followed less nervously. The house was practically empty tonight beside from a few people in the living room and kitchen. Everyone must’ve been at one of the frat parties. She opened her bedroom door and they kicked off their shoes and socks that had gotten all soggy.

Y/n shrugged her small pink coat off and put it over her desk chair. Harry stayed sort of stagnant behind her. Running his fingers through his hair.

“Are y'cold, H?” She asked gripping the hem of her top, her back was facing him as she lifted it off. Revealing her lacy pink bra and bare back.

He felt his eyes widen and cheeks heat up. She yanked her jeans down and revealed a pink g-string that matched. It had bows on it, and it was all girly and pretty. Suddenly the wholesome urge to take care of her turned back into something a bit less wholesome. His cock twitched as she bent down to take her socks off. He had a great view of her plush perfect body. His hands flexed by his sides, and he looked down at his feet, did she want him to look?

She turned around running a hand through her hair, “Styles? You okay?”

She looked like a fucking dream.

He nodded looking up. “I- Yeah,”

She giggled. “What’s wrong?”

He rolled his eyes sighing, a smile remaining on his face. His cheeks had dusted in a soft pink that was unusual for him and only made Y/n more inclined to tease him. Roles reversed.

“Don’t play all dumb, you know you're fucking gorgeous. And I can’t exactly concentrate when you look at me like that.”

She walked closer to him as her hands slid under his hoodie and thick cotton t-shirt, hands grazing his skin. Her hands were cold, and he hissed slightly but made no movements to step back.

“Like what?” Her eyelashes fluttered up at him.

“Like that.” His hands slid around her back and down to cupping her ass in his big hands and bringing her closer to him. Their height difference had him bending down, ready to scoop her up into his arms.

She moved her hands onto his shoulders and pushed herself up on the tips of her toes, lips close to his. “Kiss me.”

He leaned down connecting their lips together. She pulled him closer, whispering against his lips. “‘M cold.”

He leaned into her touch, she was gripping him tightly against herself. He pulled his arms away from her to lift his jumper off. She gripped the hem of his t-shirt and pulled that off too. His tattoos filled her vision and she wanted to bite and suck and lick and touch every single one of them. God, he was just gorgeous. And honestly, being able to kiss him was more pleasurable than any other experience she’d ever had. Kissing him alone was something she could do for hours. When Harry just looked at her that alone was more breathtaking than anything any other boy had done. To have him here in her room, kissing her, holding her, well it was everything she’d ever dreamed of. If her fourteen-year-old self knew she’d probably faint, scream, cry, and go into shock.

Her hands slid to his hips and gripped the button of his jeans, as his hands found her cheeks and kissed her again. She yanked them down a little bit revealing the fern tattoos she loved so much. She remembers him posting on his Instagram when he’d gotten them, Y/n practically choked on her water when she saw them. He was just walking sex. She wasn't any better than him, completely filthy in that head of hers.

He started walking forward and leading her back to her bed. She sat down on the mattress eyes wild looking up at him. His bulge was right in her eye-line and she smiled up at him, and she grabbed him to join her. He slotted in perfectly into her arms and his hips pressed into the thin string that was covering herself. He wasn’t ashamed that his cock was already growing in size in his pants, and he gently pressed it against her in hopes of some relief to his aching balls.

She sighed breathily into his mouth at the weight of him on top of her, she kept pulling him even closer. Their chests pressed into each other, and Harry was so warm, and Y/n was so soft. He could’ve stayed like that all night, in her arms.

He pecked her lips one last time as he pulled away to kiss along her chest. The little necklace she always wore that Emma had bought her was around her neck. It was the first letter of her name. His finger ran along it, stroking her upper chest.

“Should get a H.” He said before nibbling into the plush flesh of her tits. They were so warm and soft against his face. If he wasn’t so needy for her he’d just rest against them and sleep, smelling her delicious scent of that clean soft scent she always smelt of, it was so comforting to him.

She smiled and softly ran her hands through his hair, her legs were still wrapped around his back. “Why?”

He looked up, and suddenly all those emotions of jealousy and protectiveness were back rushing through him and making his hands squeeze her hips tightly. “So people know you're mine.”

This shocked her a bit and Harry was nervous for a second, he had revealed quite a bit of feelings in that moment and distracted himself with her neck. Kissing along her sweet-smelling skin. His lips were so gentle against her like he was afraid she’d break.

“And then what would you wear to show who you belong to Styles?” She said. Her voice was raspy and breathy from his kisses. His head snapped up and he smirked wickedly.

“Well, why don’t you mark m’back with your nails like last time, and leave some bruises on m’neck until we can come up with a permanent solution?”

She smiled and felt her pussy throb at the thought. After the last time Harry was between her legs she’d ended up with bruises on her thighs, hickeys everywhere, and she was so sore it hurt to sit all day. She’d told him one night on the phone and he’d lost his mind over it. Loved the idea of Y/n being marked up from him, sore from their sex, unable to sit without thinking of him.

"Sound good, Princess?"

“Okay.” She replied content with his answer. Her lips formed in a pouty kissy face and he came up to press his into hers for a long peck, she smiled when he pulled away. How could he be so cocky and rude but also so soft all at once? He moved his way back down her body and kissed her hips sucking a spot into her left hip. His hand rubbed her stretch marks along there and kissed over the now bruised mark he’d made.

He moved further down until his mouth was right against her pussy. His nose brushed against the material as he looked up at her. “Gonna let me take care of you?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He smiled. “You’re such a good girl f’me. Perfect lil' thing.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

He loved when she slipped into that state of submission and obedience because normally, despite her calm presence, she basically never let Harry have anything without being teased. She was a bit of a brat to him, which turned him on an unfathomable about.

He pulled her knickers off and threw them to the side. As he spread her legs even further apart he moved one of her thighs to rest on his shoulder and the other he pushed forward toward her tummy, practically folding her in half. His ring-covered fingers gripped them and he leaned in close to her. The lips of her were like petals of a flower, splayed out and dewy. Her clit was puffy and swollen in arousal like the bud of a flower. He brought his free hand forward and circled her clit softly. Her hips squirmed into his hand and he heard her let out a shaky breath.

“Ah,” She gasped when he leaned in closer and his breath hit her dripping pussy. It was cool and shiver-inducing and she could practically see his smile, even though her eyes had made their way shut.

He placed a gentle kiss on her clit and her hands moved to his hair quickly. “Please.”

He was teasing her and he loved the reaction it pulled from her. Now that they’d already been together once there was a certain familiarity in this. He knew what she liked and he was ready to explore things that he hadn’t already. Including taking his time and eating her out like he’d been thinking about since he was probably fourteen.

He looked up at her, her lips were in a pout of frustration. “What’s got you pouting, Princess?”

“Want you t’help me, Harry.”

“You can beg better than that, Y/n.”

“Please, Daddy.”

“Please what, Baby?”

“Please taste me, Daddy. Need your mouth. Want it.”

He smirked looking up at her. “‘Atta girl.”

She felt her clit throb at his raspy words. He leaned forward and licked a long stripe of her slick up into his mouth. She tasted tangy and sweet just like he’d imagined. His mouth watered at the taste, and he smirked. Once he’d tasted her he knew he wouldn’t be able to tease her any longer. He started moaning and grunting into her and the vibrations of it had her mewling and tugging on his hair.

“Fuck.” She cried out, neck arching into the pillow.

He was acting like a starved man and sucking onto her clit with such a hunger that it startled her. She hadn’t expected him to be so wild and good at it. She knew he was good, but Jesus, she was already feeling so much pleasure within mere minutes. He was suckling into her bud like a bee on a honeysuckle flower, all headily. The sweet nectar spilled onto his tongue as he kissed her lips, and practically devoured her whole. She was already feeling dreamy with the pleasure, floating with lust.

As he began to speed his tongue up and get more sloppy with his languid movements, she gained less control of her body. Her legs tried to shut on him and they were beginning to shake softly, he gripped them tighter and split her open for him.

His tongue lapped up the slick that was leaking out of her hungrily, and as he slipped his tongue near her weeping hole she let out a particularly loud whine and her back arched off the mattress. “Fuckin’ hell, feels good, Daddy.”

He pulled away for a breath looking up at her, rubbing his thumb over her clit in slow hard circles that had her eyes welling with tears of pleasure. “Yeah, sucha’ good girl letting Daddy eat this little pussy.”

She was bucking her hips and squirming under his tight grip. He could tell she was getting close as she ground against his face, her moans were getting louder and more desperate. Her slick was dribbling down his chin and he was moaning every few licks. He’d taken to rubbing his cock against the edge of the mattress for some relief, and Y/n coming on done from his touch was too much for him to stay still. He needed to relieve himself. Or he’d come his boxers, which he thought we be a bit pathetic. He wanted to prove to her how good he could be with her, how he liked to take his time when he could. But his neediness was making him have a little less control than he liked.

He continued eating her pussy with such a raw animalistic frenzy that her orgasm washed over quickly, taking her by complete surprise. Her tummy filled with waves of pleasure that shot all through her body as her muscles tensed and her pussy throbbed, she could feel herself clamping down onto his tongue as he groaned.

When she came it was with a desperate, soft, cry of his name. “Fuck, Harry.” She said, shutting her eyes and gripping his hair. “‘M cumming.”

“Cum for me, angel.”

She did. Hard. She felt like she had no control of her body as Harry talked her through her orgasm encouragingly. “That’s it, good girl.”

He’d slipped his fingers inside with ease and began curling against her. She felt herself fall back limp into the sheets as he continued licking and thrusting his fingers inside of her, and her hands moved to his hair once again pulling on it. Her mouth was loose-lipped and she found it hard to keep herself quiet now.

“Oh, fuck, Daddy,” She said breathlessly, all soft and quiet. It made him smile as he looked up at her, slick coating his lips.

“Gonna be a good girl and let me make you cum again?”

She nodded biting her lip. “Mhm.” She said before throwing her head back when his fingers hit that soft spot inside her that she couldn’t reach with her own fingers. It made her melt and shake.

Harry noticed her reaction and smirked to himself. “Found it.”

As she watched him from between her thighs, his head bobbed and the muscle of his arms flexed, he was pinning her to the bed so that he could keep going. Her second orgasm found itself much easier, it took Harry a few kisses and rubs against her clit along with his fingers pounding into her until she came.

Her legs moved to shut around his head and her nails were scratching along his shoulders and back. She kept repeating the words, “Please, Daddy.” Over and over, until.

“Oh, I think you’re gonna make me cum again.”

He kept his steady pace and sloppy kisses going, pulling away only to say. “Cum for Daddy, pretty girl,”

And she did. It was like his words had complete control over her. The ball growing in her tummy snapped and rushed through her. This time her whole body shook as she gripped onto his arms in support, she felt this release like a tidal wave.“Fuck, fuck, fuck,”

The tightness of her muscles flexing and her body shaking had her spent. She had never come so hard, and it for so long. It was a few minutes before she finally felt the pleasure subside to something more easy to take.

She was mewling and babbling all drunken from her orgasm. “Jesus, H.”

He helped her through her second orgasm, kissing along her hips and thighs to give her swollen clit a chance to rest. When she finally came down from the peak of her orgasm, she went limp again, eyes shut, and for a moment there she couldn’t hear or see anything. She could only feel him. Feel what he’d made come over her.

When she looked down at him he’d pulled his fingers out only a few centimetres away and his mouth was damp. His chin was covered in slick and as she began to take in his appearance. His neck and the top of his chest was dripping. She was confused for a second, it couldn’t be sweat. Despite their intense state, she knew he couldn’t be sweating that much. And then she realised.

“Oh, I squirted, sorry.” She said embarrassed trying to shut her legs. He looked at her like she was crazy moving back up so that his hips were between her thighs.

“Sorry? What are you on about? You squirted f’me, and you looked beautiful doing it too. Absolutely nothing to be sorry about.”

She smiled, still feeling shy and blushy. She’d squirted on his dick before, but certainly not his face. She hadn’t expected it to feel so good. “Thank you for making me cum.”

He smiled, and despite his rotten mouth and dominant cocky rough edges, in that moment he looked all soft and gooey and truthfully the fact he got to see Y/n so soft and vulnerable around him made him eternally soft for her. He wanted to see her like this all the time. Red-faced, pouty lips, eyes glassy in pleasure, and words slurring from complete satisfaction. Something only he got to see.

He wanted to be the only person who got her to squirt all over his face. Wanted to be the only one to taste her sweet little pussy. He wanted to be the only man for her. He felt so possessive over her like a kid not wanting to share his favourite toy. But he knew at the end of the day, it was always going to be her decision who she was with.

But Y/n thought that over the years it was pretty damn obvious who she wanted.

Harry was the only one for her.

She wasn’t in some other boy's bed tonight, she was with him right now, running her nails softly along his arms despite how needy they both were for each other. She was slow with her touches like they had all the time in the world because really they did.

It was raining so heavily outside, the wind was howling wildly rustling all the trees nearby, and the thunder roared above them. The shelter her little room provided them with was perfect, and it felt like all time ceased to exist. The sky had turned dark and so had their eyes, her room was almost pitch black, and they were both so warm and close. Skin to skin.

Y/n was right here, naked, and waiting for him.

Things weren’t so bad after all.

He placed a soft long kiss on her lips and she could taste herself on his tongue. Things tonight felt different than the first time, although Harry was fueled and fiery with jealousy and he wanted to take her roughly, it all felt more intimate.

His hands moved to her hips squeezing the plush flesh and running his hands over the stretch marks that decorated her skin. Every inch of Y/n was beautiful, and he’d never thought that before about anyone. He’d never seen someone's hands and thought what absolutely beautiful hands they had, or what beautiful teeth they had, or how cute their ears were. There wasn’t a part of her body that he wouldn’t worship.

To him, she was the picture image of beauty.

The kiss deepened as he rolled them over. His head rested where hers just had, and he could feel the warmth her body had left behind. She sat right up against his cock, and she could feel him throbbing against her. His old thin boxers left little room for him to hide his aching want. He was honestly rock hard, watching her cum twice, feeling her, tasting her. It had him so hard he could’ve cried.

Her tits were right in his eyeline, all soft and full. He took one into his mouth sucking on her sensitive nipple, and enjoying the loud whine she let out. His hands had fallen to her ass now, and she’d taken to grinding against his clothed cock. He could feel the wetness of her leaking down onto his boxers and he wanted to stuff her full. Despite her two orgasms, Y/n was still managing just fine on top of him.

She pulled back just slightly so she could grip the hem of his boxers and tug them off. His cock sprang up against his tummy, and even though she’d seen it before she’d probably never get used to how fucking big and gorgeous his cock was. The pink ruddy tip that glistened in precum, his long veiny shaft, that girthiness he had. God she could stare at it for hours, she thinks he is beautiful in the way those ancient paintings of Greek gods were beautiful. His hair was unruly and curly and fit for a golden wreathe to sit, his body all muscular and tanned, his absolute manliness. Something about how capable he was was just enough to have her squirming her thighs.

If she was to paint him, she’d want him to look something like this. Messy, needy, and staring right at her. She moved her hand to grip his cock giving it some gentle strokes, he was hissing already. Her hands were so warm and soft, and she pursed her lips and spat down onto him, allowing her to stroke him faster.

“Such a pretty cock, Daddy.”

He let out a laugh through his moan, “Pretty?”

She nodded. “Just like the rest of you. Beautiful.”

He felt his cheeks warm in a blush. No one had ever called him that before. She was still stroking him and he felt his eyes begin to squeeze shut in pleasure. His hips rutted up into her hand a few times.

“Want to feel this pretty cock, Daddy, please,” She said, her voice in a gentle begging tone.

He opened his eyes and smiled his hand moving from her hip to her cheek stroking it with his thumb.

“Come sit on it, all yours to sit on, Princess.”

She smiled up at him, kissing his jaw and letting go of his stiffy so that she could move her legs up the bed. When she was hovering over him she placed her arms by his shoulders ready to slide onto him when he stopped her.

“Wait, condom?” He asked, kissing her nose.

She shook her head. “Wanna feel you, s’that okay?”

He felt his cock twitch at that. “Yeah, I’m clean, trust you. Want that too.”

She smiled leaning forward to place a kiss on his lips. Her hand grabbed his dick and brought it up between her slick folds, collecting the wetness. She slowly slid down onto it and felt herself stretching for him, her two orgasms allowed more room for him to glide into her easily, but no matter how wet she was his cock was always going to stretch her out.

When she’d made it halfway she looked up at him, “Y'big, sorry,”

He just pushed some hair away from her face, kissing her jaw near her ear. “Take your time.”

Eventually, she made it hilt of him, sitting down on him softly. They both let out heavy sighs at the feeling, she felt so full of him. He was so deep, she could see the bulge of him in her tummy. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder and his hands massaged her thighs softly. If not for their burning desire Harry could’ve stayed just like that for hours. His back against the wall, her resting against him, cock all warm inside her. It was perfect.

She eventually lifted her head up and smeared their lips together in a messy gentle kiss. Her arms wrapped around his back in an embrace as she began to lift herself up and then back down slowly. The stretch starting to burn in pleasure now, and the pain subsiding. He moaned into her mouth loudly as she started to pick up a rhythm of deep hard thrusts. The tip of him was hitting that spot that had her eyes rolling back into her skull as she started to find the rhythm that was right for them both. She was going slow yet hard and deep, it had her pussy clamping down against him which was sending him up the wall.

Her pussy was to die for, so tight, and perfect around his cock. Wet and warm. He wanted to bury himself in it all hours of the day. Her lazy bounces started to pick up as she gripped his shoulders for leverage. His hands moved from her hips to her ass, gripping her tightly as he began to pump his cock up meeting her bounces. He was moaning and grunting into her neck and tits at the feel of her tight pussy, he started kissing her all over.

It was a beautiful sight, his pretty girl's tits bouncing right in front of his face, and her moaning against his cock. He couldn't help but smile, a devilish one.

“Daddy, fuck,” She swore. She was getting close again. Her previous orgasms had her so sensitive to his touch.

One of his hands came forward and began to rub messy circles against her puffy clit. She let out a whine and shut her eyes bouncing as if her life depended on it, his other hand squeezed her ass kneading it roughly, as he thrust his cock up into her pussy.

“You’re Daddy’s good girl aren’t you?”

This made her let out a particularly loud whimper.

“What was that, Princess?”

She just let out another noise of pleasure.

His hand moved up to grip her chin so she’d look at him. “Say it, Y/n. Tell me.”

“I’m your good girl, H.”

He frowned. “H?”

Her hips were stuttering on his cock and the hard rubbing against her clit. “I’m your good girl, Daddy.”

He smirked. “Who’s little pussy does this belong to?”

God, he was filthy. She fucking loved it. It’s what she’d imagined him to be liked. Raw, rough, filthy, dominant, and possessive.

She cried out as his thrusts began to speed up. She was dizzy with it all, struggling to speak.

Her voice came out hoarse and breathless. “Yours,”

“What’s mine, Y/n?”

“My pussy, it’s yours. I'm yours.”

He smirked. “Good girl, sucha' good fucking girl.”

His thrusts caused her entire body to jolt forward, as her nails scratched down his arms and she began to scream at the pleasure.

“That’s it, take Daddy’s cock,”

She gripped his arms for dear life, “Gunna’ come again. Ah, mm, fuck.”

He didn’t stop for a second and it was only a few thrusts until she was squirted all over his cock and shaking wildly. He could tell he’d fucked her hard because she was practically limp on top of him when her orgasm subsided, she was spent. Harry had ruined her. Three orgasms, three mind-blowing orgasms, she didn’t know if she could handle another.

He kissed her lips. “Good job, sweet girl.”

She smiled dazedly. “Thanks, Daddy.”

“Want me ta’ take care of ya’ now.” His voice hadn't gotten even slower, slurring from the absolute raw fuck he was having.

She nodded and he helped her off him. She fell back onto her bed, back amongst the mess that was her sheets. Her hair lay above her like a crown and he kissed her lips softly, enjoying this gentle side to her. It seems the more she came the softer she got, more clingy, handsy. He fucking loved it. He was sure his shoulders were covered in scratches from her, and his hair had been tugged about by her. He probably looked just as fucked out as her.

She was covered in a light sheen of sweat, and her lips were swollen. She looked up at him fluttering her lashes. Sexiest little thing ever, a total minx. “Want you.” She whispered. She wanted him to cum, fill her up. She'd been thinking about for years, especially lately.

He grabbed her legs spreading them far apart so he could slot in between her. He was sitting up on his knees all tall above her. Her tummy curled in anticipation and desire, he was so fucking hot. His gorgeous veiny hands touched her and those ring-covered fingers of his gripping into her flesh hard. His swirls of ink were still visible under the moonlight.

He was a sight. A pure filthy sight she wanted to hold onto in her mind forever.

“Want to fill you up, Princess.” He replied. His cock was begging for his orgasm, he’d managed to last through one of her orgasms pulsing against him, but he knew the next one would push him over the edge. He slowly slipped inside of her, and her hands found their way to his arms, gripping them hard.

He started thrusting roughly without much warning, causing her bed to shift and creak under the weight of them both. She moaned loudly, “Oh, fuck,”

With each thrust her body jolted into the bed, as she tried to find a way to control her squirming body.

He let out a hiss as his balls slapped against her ass. “Feel so good around me, sweet girl. Fuckin' perfect. Made for this cock.”

She pulled him closer so that her chest was pressed into his. His face slipped into the side of her neck and shoulder and gently kissed along there. One of her arms wrapped around his back and the other found his hand, he held hers tightly. He continued fucking into her deep, it felt so good it hurt and her hips jutted to meet his.

“‘Wanna cum, Daddy, can I?” She said softly, in a pleading tone that had his balls aching to fill her pussy up with his hot cum. He grunted pounding into her just that bit harder, this final bundle of energy he had was going toward making her finish.

She felt her tummy tightening familiarly with her orgasm. She knew that she couldn’t hold onto it much longer.

“Cum f’me please, Y/n.” He whimpered, “Be a good girl and let me feel you cum on m’cock.”

His hand held hers tightly, and this romantic intimate side of him was all too much for her, this was somehow hotter than his rough side. She loved to see him like this.

She pulled his face to hers, and they kissed as she finished. It was all teeth and tongue, noses brushing into each other, and she cried out into his mouth. He nibbled her lip and felt her clamping against him rapidly.

When he pulled back from the kiss they were breathless, each thrust had her practically crying out.

“Gonna make me cum, Y/n,” He whispered. “Where do you want me cum?”

She wrapped her legs around his hips. “Inside me, please, Daddy.”

When he made eye contact with her that’s when he finally orgasmed. The thrusts of his hips grew sloppy with pleasure as he let out a loud moan of her name and some curses. She was scratching his arm and back softly letting him fuck her full of his cum as his pleasure subsided. He didn’t move out of her, just landed on top of her. His head resting right above her fast-beating heart. He was fucking spent.

She stroked his hair feeling nice and full of him. She could feel his cum inside her, dripping out onto his cock. He was warm and big to cuddle she loved it. He lifted his head up when he caught his breath, placing a kiss on her forehead, then her nose, then her cheeks which made her giggle, then finally her lips.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered.

“Oh, shut up Styles, I already let you fuck me, no need to butter me up now.” She teased.

He rolled his eyes, still inside her, still holding her hand. “You’ve always been beautiful, most gorgeous girl in the whole world.”

Her face turned soft, cheeks blooming in a soft dusty rose. “You’re beautiful too.”

He smiled. “Thank you.”

Eventually, he pulled out of her, she felt empty and whined at the feeling. She was so sensitive now. She honestly wouldn't have minded if he'd stayed inside her for the rest of the night.

She shut her eyes and as he sat back, he watched his cum drip out of her. It made his tummy flutter. He knows he shouldn’t be thinking this far ahead considering Y/n and him weren’t even dating. But if she got pregnant with his baby, that would be the cutest thing in the world. He cut those thoughts from his mind and stood up.

“Gonna clean y’up.” He said, walking to her bathroom. He found a cloth in there and wet it with some warm water walking over to the bed.

She opened her eyes which had turned bleary with sleepiness. She smiled tiredly over at him. He smiled back, grabbing her legs and spreading them so he could wipe her down. She whined at the touch of the cloth.

“Sorry, Baby.”

She let out another soft wince. “S’okay, worth it.”

As he stared down at her he noticed how sweaty she looked. “Wanna shower? I’ll help you. We probably should after all that rain and other stuff.”

She nodded, a small laugh leaving her mouth. “Okay, just don’t let me fall asleep and drown in there.”

He laughed. “Course not.”

He helped her up to a sitting position and she looked up at him sluggishly. “Really got me sore, H.”

He frowned. “Sorry, Angel.”

She teasingly sharpened her gaze, “You aren’t sorry, you filthy boy.”

He smirked. “‘M not sorry for taking what’s mine, I am sorry you’ll be sore tomorrow.”

She rolled her eyes. “You will be sorry when I keep complaining.”

"I'll massage you, don't worry."

He picked her up startling her, she always knew he was strong but never expected him to pick her up with such ease, and if she wasn’t totally spent she’d want to test what also he could do with those big muscles. Throw her around maybe? Fuck her standing up? She’d make a note to herself to try that later.

His hands were under bum and as he walked to the bathroom, the shower was surprisingly big and had a tiny little shelve that came out which had all her soaps and shampoos, but there was enough room for her to sit on it.

He turned the water on warm and placed her onto the sink bench. She watched him under the pale light of the bathroom. How was this the same Harry from before?

This was a soft kind man, a gentleman, hardly a frat boy dick. She didn't know where'd he been hiding this side of him. But she liked him just as much as he did the rotten-mouthed boy she knew.

In the shower he took care of her as promised, washing her hair with the lavender-scented shampoo she owned. He used some too, and he helped wash her skin with this fresh-smelling shower oil she had. Softly cleaning her sore parts and he massaged her body with such a gentleness that she melted right into his hands.

She’d never expected Harry to be one to stay and cuddle after, let alone help shower. He was so nurturing to her. It made her feelings bloom and spread through her body like wildflowers.

When they were both clean Harry even helped her dry her hair, and change into some comfy clothes. While she was brushing her teeth and putting some skincare on he fixed up her sheets and tucked himself into them. He'd put his rings in the little dish she had on her bedside table. Checking his phone to see it was late. They'd been going for a while.

When she came out in a baggy shirt that Harry had worn last time he was here, it still smelt of him, and some little black knickers he felt his heart skip a beat. She looked especially good in his clothes.

“C’mere.” He opened the duvet and she slid in beside him tiredly. He pulled her close, right in the crook of his chest, he’d decided to wear nothing to bed. Which bothered neither of them. He ran hot, especially with Y/n snuggling right up against him.

Her window was open letting the heavy downpour of thunder and rain become background noise as they fell asleep. He kissed her temple, rubbing her back underneath his shirt.

“Night, Beautiful.”

She shut her eyes kissing one of the swallows on his chest. “Night, Styles.”

Sleep found them both quickly and Harry held onto her the whole night. He was completely smitten with her, the one girl he couldn’t have was the only one he wanted. Fuck. They were so screwed.

PART THREE???????

1K notes · View notes

evansbby · 1 year ago

Text

⭒✮▹𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: older husband!Ari Levinson x naive wife!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: daddy!kink, smutt, dd/lg vibes, pregnancy!kink, breeding!kink, housewife!kink, lactation!kink, size difference, age gap, innocence!kink, naive reader, 18+ only, minors dni!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Ari finally comes home to his very pregnant wife.

𝐀/𝐍: I’m just surprised I didn’t write this sooner tbh. Enjoy!

“Honey, I’m home!”

Your husband’s booming voice echoes around the house, sending thrills up and down your spine. You feel a huge smile plaster itself on your face – despite the fact that you’ve been married to him for almost a year now, you still feel giddy like a little girl every time you hear him come home. You carefully set down the casserole that has just finished cooking, impatiently shaking your oven mitts off before making a beeline to the front door and launching yourself at your big, beefy husband.

“Ari!” You hug him hard, pressing your nose into his hard chest that smells so deliciously like him. Like fresh soap and his manly musk with a hint of salty seawater. Just him. And you can’t help but breath him in, trying your best to climb up his body and wrap your legs around his waist, which is obviously a hard task considering how big your belly has gotten. “Missed you so much,” you mumble against his solid body, loving the feel of his warm arms enveloping you into his embrace. You wish he’d hug you harder, completely crush your body against his like how he used to. Till you can’t breathe but in the best possible way.

But of course, he’s ten times more mindful of you now. Pregnancy and all.

“Baby,” Ari breathes, burying his nose in your hair and nuzzling the top of your head. He presses a bunch of kisses against your hairline, one hand already on your belly (its favourite place to be, as of late), stroking it softly while his other hand meanders down to your ass (his other favourite part of your body). “Mm, I missed you too, sweet girl. Missed your little body against me like this.”

He cups your face, tipping it upwards and lifting you slightly so he can plant a kiss to your lips. He was just so damn tall and big – kissing was a bit of a problem unless he bent down or picked you up. You didn’t mind, though. You loved how much bigger he was than you, how strong and beefy and muscular he looked.

And Ari’s genes were strong enough that he’d passed them down to his unborn children too. You were about eight months along with Ari’s twins in your belly. Both boys. Both bigger than average according to your last scan. And both extremely active and strong just like their daddy – you knew because of all the somersaults and kicks they were subjecting you to day after day. But it was worth it. Ari said that you were the always the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid his eyes on, but pregnancy just made you glow differently. And he’d get that fire in his eyes every time he looked at your belly growing his babies, and it made you feel so powerful, so sexy, so wonderful.

You’d only been married to Ari for a month before you’d found out you were pregnant. You’d met him less than a year ago, this business tycoon who’d swept you off your innocent feet. He was handsome, charming and respectful, and he’d proposed to you after only a few weeks. You’d said yes, of course. And he’d made it clear that he wanted a big family, a cute little housewife (you) who took care of him and his children. You were all too happy to oblige, because you wanted all those things too.

“How are my boys?” Ari whispers, cupping your belly with his huge palm. God, he was just so big – built strong like a wrestler yet also lithe and athletic. Not to mention so goddamned handsome! You couldn’t believe your luck. Some of your friends had told you that you were too young for a man like Ari. You were only fresh out of college and he was almost double your age and the CEO of one of the biggest tech companies in the country. That didn’t matter to you, though. You liked being his little baby, having him dote over you and spoil you (which he had done since the day he met you, and continued to do till this day).

And so what if he babied you all the time and made all your decisions for you? You liked giving up the control, and Ari was just so smart and level-headed, it just made sense to allow him to take over every aspect of your life.

“Your boys have been extra rowdy today.” You giggle as your husband continues to press kisses all over your face and neck, his long hair tickling you as he does so. “They keep kicking me like they want to come out already. How am I supposed to tell them they’re not due for another month?”

Ari smirks, easily picking you up with one arm like you’re a little baby yourself. His other hand is still splayed over your swollen stomach. He’d grown addicted to cupping your belly ever since the day you told him you were pregnant. It was a problem in the early days, when none of your friends and family knew yet your husband kept stroking your belly in front of them, a cocky look on his handsome face that all but gave everything away.

“I can’t wait till they come, but I also want to keep you pregnant just a little bit longer.” Ari murmurs, carrying you into the living room. He gives your ass a loud slap, the action making you yelp and clutch his muscular bicep as he grins. “You’re so sexy like this, baby. Have I ever told you that?”

“Only about a gazillion times,” you roll your eyes, but this earns you another hard slap on the ass and a warning look from your husband. You squeal, “Ari! That hurt!”

“You know not to roll your eyes at me, honey. I may have married you and knocked you up but you’re still my little baby.” Ari pats your bum and gives it a soft squeeze before kissing your cheek to make you smile. “And I’ve told you to call me daddy, princess.”

“Oh yeah, sorry daddy!”

“That’s okay, baby.”

You’d called Ari “daddy” during sex ever since he took your virginity on your first date almost a year ago. It just fit him; he took care of you so good and he was just so big and strong and dominant. Ari was really into it, always coaxing you to call him daddy – even outside the bedroom. And he’d always look so extremely smug when you’d inevitably slip and accidentally call him daddy in front of your friends and family.

But especially now that the two of you were married and lived in Ari’s big suburban mansion, he just went crazy every time he’d come home to you in your checkered apron, pregnant with his babies and calling him daddy. He’d told you once that it was his idea of heaven on Earth, and you were the one who’d given it to him.

“You have no idea how hot you look right now, baby.” Ari tells you as he takes a seat on his armchair and sets you on his lap. You’re still dwarfed by his huge size even when he’s sitting down with you on top of him, holding you securely on his knee like you’re his little baby. His gaze grows dark as he watches your breasts bounce slightly as he sits down, pink tongue peeking out to lick his lips hungrily. “I couldn’t concentrate at work, all I could think about was my baby wife, round with my children and taking care of my house in your cute little dress.”

You glance down at your dress, it’s one of many that Ari had bought for you. He had said that baby wives only ever wore dresses around the house so it was easier for their daddies to fuck them. You had absolutely no problem with that, seeing as you loved wearing the cute dresses he bought for you, and you also loved it whenever he’d slip his hand up the cotton material, or bent you over a random piece of furniture around the house and fucked the living daylights out of you.

Ari was a loving and doting husband, but sometimes he would get extremely rugged and rough with you. He’d tell you that you were his wife and it was your duty to bend over for him whenever he pleased. Sometimes, he’d watch you with lust-filled eyes while you did the housework around the house. And all he had to do was snap his fingers and you’d come running over to him.

He’d either push you down to your knees and make you suck him off till he was satisfied, or he’d bend you over the arm of the couch and fuck you fast and hard, calling you his cute little baby housewife, telling you how all your holes belonged to him only, because he was your husband and he owned you. And you’d whimper and mewl and wail and cry while he had his way with you, till he’d fill you up with his cum and then pull you upright, straighten your dress, slap your ass and send you back to your housework.

No wonder he knocked you up so quickly.

“Honey? You still here?” Ari bounces you on his lap and you blink before smiling up at him.

“Oh. Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Why would you need to think, baby? Daddy does all the thinking, remember? You just look pretty.” Ari bounces you on his lap again, making you giggle while his eyes once more zero in on your breasts. They’re so much bigger now that you’re pregnant, and Ari has been paying more attention to them than usual. In fact, your pregnant body in general has him incensed and feral. He’s always grabbing at you and pawing at you, squeezing and groping and stroking your every curve like he can’t get enough.

He reaches past you to grab the cold bottle of beer which you’d already set out for him on the coffee table. You watch him as he takes a deep swig, admiring how handsome he is. He’s got a defined jawline covered with his thick beard that makes him look more manly and virile than ever. A gorgeous sloped nose with a cute bump on it that you love to kiss, and high cheekbones smattered with freckles. He sports a golden tan almost all year round, as well as a wonderfully beefy, sun-kissed body that you can’t get enough of.

Even now, you slip your hand up and down his hard stomach, feeling his hairy, toned abs through his cotton shirt that’s stretched taught over them. God, he really was the hottest man alive. All the women that worked for him were crazy about him, including his secretary. But Ari had told you not to worry, that you were the love of his life and he’d waited forty years to find you, and he’d wait forty more to find you again.

“Dinner’s all ready for you.” You say, pressing a kiss to his cheek because he looks so deliciously handsome and you can’t help it. “I made all your favourites, daddy. I think I’m getting better at cooking now.”

You’d struggled with cooking at the beginning of your marriage. You knew Ari expected you to be a good little housewife, but cooking was never your strongest suit. Ari hadn’t minded though, always finding it adorable when you’d sheepishly serve him burnt food that was borderline inedible. And then he’d order a takeaway and you’d both eat in front of the TV, and he’d lick the pizza sauce off the corner of your mouth before pulling you into his lap to make out.

But you’d wanted to be a good housewife for him, after all, Ari worked so hard to provide for you and he bought you whatever you wanted. He didn’t expect you to slave away in the kitchen, of course, but you figured he deserved a good homecooked meal once in a while. And so, you sifted through various cookbooks and online recipes and YouTube videos until you’d finally been able to cook something half decent. And Ari had been so proud of you when you’d served him a roasted chicken and mashed potatoes, and making you husband proud was all you really wanted to do.

Back in the present, Ari playfully chucks you under your chin, “You’re an amazing cook, sweetheart. I can’t wait to eat dinner. But I won’t lie, baby, right now I’m hungry for something else.”

His eyes go down to your chest again, and you smile demurely as thrills shoot down to your core. Ari’s big hands cup your breasts, squeezing them lewdly before tweaking your hard nipples through the thin material of your dress. You never really wore bras inside the house, and Ari was not one to complain about that. He grins wickedly when two wet spots appear on the fabric covering your nipples.

You’d started lactating recently, and Ari had been nothing short of thrilled about that. “Baby wives feed their daddies their mommy milk,” he’d told you, and of course, he was always right. You were scared at first, having him drink from you. But he’d been so ravenous, so hungry for your milk and the intimacy that came with doing something like that. How could you possibly say no?

Now, Ari fed from you all the time. It was almost a daily occurrence which almost always ended in mind-blowing sex.

Ari holds you close to him as he kisses down your neck, his hands slipping up your arms to push the straps of your dress down. Your breasts are painful and heavy as he frees them from the dress, your nipples already hard as glass but you still hiss as the cool air hits them, making them even more erect, if that was possible.

“Poor baby,” Ari coos, tweaking your nipple casually while you squirm in his arms, whimpering like a baby who needs to be tended to. That only incenses Ari more, and he gives your erect nipple a couple of flicks, making you gasp as he laughs wickedly. “Look at your sexy tits, all sore and heavy. They must really hurt, huh baby?”

You pout and nod, grabbing his forearm desperately, “Y-Yeah, they do. Daddy, plea–”

“My poor baby,” Ari continues, squeezing and groping to his heart’s content as droplets of your milk begin to leak. Your husband licks his lips, spreading the liquid all over your sore breasts, making you hornier than ever but he only smirks. “Bet you’ve been waiting all day for daddy to come home and breastfeed from you, huh?”

“Y-Yeah, please!” You whimper, jutting your chest out till your heavy breasts are almost smothering his face. And all he does is laugh, giving your nipple another hard pinch while you feel the tears of frustration well in your eyes. He reduced you to tears so easily, but it was only because you craved him so badly and didn’t like it when things didn’t go your way. He often teased you about this, calling you a needy, spoiled baby who lacked any type of patience.

Ari gives your nipple a light flick with is tongue, his blue eyes shining wickedly as your breath hitches. But then he lets out a feral growl, completely enveloping your nipple between his lips and sucking down hard. You whimper again, grabbing his hair and holding his head close to your breast as he begins to drink your milk, groaning, biting and licking at your nipple like a starved man.

“God, you have such sexy tits, baby.” He mumbles against your breasts, burying his face into them as he continues to suckle. He grabs your other tit and gives it a rough squeeze, kneading the soft flesh with his expert fingers. “And your mommy milk tastes so good.”

“Th-Thank you, daddy!” You manage to get out through all the different sensations you’re feeling. He’s still bouncing you up and down on his lap, his hard dick poking against your butt like a steel rod through his pants. Plus, his mouth working against your nipple is making you see stars, and you feel pleasure mixed with the relief from him draining the milk from your breast.

“Good girl with good manners,” Ari grunts approvingly, his voice slightly muffled as he lewdly takes your whole breast into his mouth (as much of it that fits) giving it a hearty suck while rocking you against him as he dry-humps his dick up into your clothed core. “Just like how daddy trained you to be. Fuck, baby. I bet none of my friends’ wives are as obedient and cute as you, huh?”

“N-No!” you agree with a yelp when he gives your ass a firm slap before grabbing a handful of your ass-cheek from under your dress and giving it a lewd jiggle. “D-Daddy, need you so bad!” You try to grab his hard dick out from the waistband of his pants but he easily slaps your hands away, making you pout and whine as he continues to suck your breasts.

“Let daddy have his meal first.” Ari scolds, slapping your butt again, harder this time, before focusing his attention to your other breast. He suckles you sweetly at first, before growing greedy once your milk starts flowing into his mouth. Incensed, he moans against your breast, grabbing your hips and repositioning you on top of him. He bounces you up and down straight on top of his crotch while he feeds from you, and you moan wantonly as your body begins to work itself up.

“B-But daddy, I waited all – ah! – I waited all day for you!” You pout, trying to grind down against your husband but he holds you in place, always wanting to control your pleasure and never letting you seek it out by yourself unless you had his permission.

Ari releases your nipple with a pop before grinning wolfishly down at you, a thoughtful look on his face as his hand splays itself on your belly once more. “Well, you were a good, patient baby today, weren’t you?”

“I was, I was!” He slips his hand down under your dress, quickly settling it between your legs while your breath hitches and eyes cloud over with lust and want. And all it takes is for his pointer finger to press down on your swollen, panty-covered clit and you’re cumming. You squeak and clutch on to his muscular forearms as you orgasm, your other hand going down to hold his hand in place between your legs as you hump and ride against it. Your panties are completely soaked through and your entire body is buzzing with sensitivity as you pant his name.

Ari looks extremely smug as he watches you orgasm in his lap, leaving a sizable pool of your wetness on his clothed leg. Casually, he tweaks your nipple, his blue eyes trained on your face as you gasp in response, your body twitching in his arms.

“You’re so sensitive now, baby. I bet I could make you cum without even touching you.” Ari says, looking proud and smug at the same time.

“S-Sorry,” you shoot him a sheepish look once you’ve come down from your high, “can’t help it sometimes, daddy. Specially since I can’t ever touch myself when you’re not here.”

That was one of Ari’s firm rules that you had to follow. At the beginning of your marriage, Ari made it clear that baby wives like you had to follow all the rules that your husband set. That included not speaking to other men without his permission, always doing what he said, always telling him where you were, and of course, never touching yourself without his permission – certainly never when you were alone in the house.

“Dumb babies like you don’t know how to touch yourself.” Ari answers, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he slips his hand out from between your legs, licking his fingers lewdly. “That’s why you need daddy to tend to you all the time. Now tell me, baby, how would you like to be fucked tonight?”

In next to no time at all, your big, beefy husband has you on all fours on your king-sized bed upstairs. A feral energy had overtaken him when you’d shyly voiced your desires to be fucked as hard as possible. Pregnancy made you so horny and feral for him, and in the early days he only ever allowed you on top, because he was so much bigger than you and so scared of hurting you. But soon, he’d learned to be rough in a way that had you both feeling satisfied without ever really causing you any harm.

And so, Ari had wasted no time in carrying you up the stairs, laying you down on the bed and slapping your ass as you scrambled to get on your hands and knees for him. And he’d slapped your ass once, twice, three times, and you knew he was mesmerised by how it jiggled.

“You’re so fucking hot like this, baby.” Ari murmurs, spanking you again like he can’t get enough. “Kept thinking of you like this while I was at work, bent over like a little whore in front of me.”

“Please put it in, Ari!”

“Patience, sweetheart.” He chuckles, running a hand up your spine and sending shivers all throughout your body. He presses his dick against your naked backside, and he feels so hot and pulsating. He’d torn your dress off the moment he’d entered the bedroom, and his own clothes had quickly followed suit. And now you were at the mercy of one big, horny, muscular, beefy man. A caveman, by the looks of how feral he was getting behind you. It’s like seeing your pregnant, naked body just flipped a switch in him, and his own patience was riding thin along with yours as he continues to rut against you.

With one quick thrust, Ari drives his huge dick inside you. You cry out in pain because he’s so big, and you’ll never get used to just how big he is. He’s more than twice the size of you and so incredibly well hung, and all you can do is brace yourself and take it, your whole body jerking forward from the force of his thrust. You’d have gone face first into the mattress had he not anticipated that and grabbed on to your hips tightly.

“Oh, fuck, baby, such a tight fucking hole you got. Daddy barely fits inside.” Ari’s fingers are clutching your hips so tightly, you know it’ll leave a bruise. And he’s rough from the get go, although you know he’s holding back because you’re pregnant. “God, fuck, sweetheart. You got such a good and tight fuckin’ snatch, so perfect for my dick, fuck!”

“H-Harder, daddy!” You cry, rutting back against him as your breasts bounce up and down from the sheer force of his thrusts. But your request earns you a swift smack to your bum.

“Take it how daddy gives it to you, baby.” Ari sneers, the alpha male inside of him taking complete control as his hips increase their pace. It feels like he’s ripping your insides with his hard dick but you feel so goddamn full and so good that you don’t even care, even as he continuously rains slap after slap down on your ass. “God, fuck, such a good little baby wife. Obedient as shit, aren’t you? Daddy’s little baby, gonna give me a bunch of babies, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yeah, gonna have your babies, daddy!” You agree, sounding delirious and very much like an airhead who’s only capable of repeating what her daddy is saying to her but he’s reduced you to this state through his sheer hard fucking and you don’t even care. You want it harder, want him slamming into you till you can’t catch your breath and you pass out. But you know he wouldn’t, you can tell by how he’s got one arm now wrapped protectively around your belly, as if he needs to keep it there to remind himself not to lose control like how he often does during sex.

You remember a couple of times when Ari had gone completely feral, fucking you like you were an animal. Relentless and unforgiving, leaving you with bruises and bumps as he’d had his way with you again and again. But the dark side of you had enjoyed being a cumdump for him, despite the fact that you’d cried from the pain and overwhelming pleasure. And Ari had taken you into his arms afterwards, telling you how sorry he was, how he’d be careful with you in the future, how he got too riled up and how he couldn’t help but take you roughly when he saw how sweet and innocent you looked. And then he’d always be so sweet with his aftercare, and run you a bath and dote on you and hug you till you fell asleep in his arms, smelling like rose scented bubble bath.

“Want me to knock you up again, sweetheart?” Ari asks you back in the present, fucking you so hard you’re seeing stars. His fat dick is hitting all the right spots inside you, making you arch your back as he keeps thrusting into you, hips going into jackhammer mode. “Because I will knock you up again, baby. Soon as you give me my boys, I’ll have you on your back and filled to the brim with my fucking cum so you get knocked up again. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? Wouldn’t you? Fuck!”

“YES, YES, YES!” You scream at the top of your lungs, the pressure building up inside you till that invisible coil snaps and you cum so hard, you’re seeing stars. You collapse underneath Ari, and he has to hold you up as he continues to fuck you. But him describing how he’s going to knock you up again was enough for you to squirt all over his dick, your slippery walls squeezing his hard, fat cock that doesn’t stop its relentless assault inside you.

“Fuck yeah, baby, squeeze my fuckin’ dick!” Ari groans, using your limp body as a literal hole for his dick as he grabs your hips and makes you shake your ass on his dick, “Fuck yeah, baby couldn’t help but cum from the thought of getting knocked up by daddy, huh? Well, you gotta give me another one, honey. One orgasm isn’t enough for my baby girl.”

He pulls you up to your knees so your back is against his chest. And your body is completely limp and void of energy since orgasming had taken everything out of you, and you’re not even sure you can cum again like how he wants you to. But your beefy husband holds you up against him nevertheless, one big hand wrapping around your throat while the other cups your heavy breast and squeezes, and this whole time his hips don’t stop moving inside you. His fat dick driving in and out of you at different, varied paces. Slow so you can feel every ridge and vein, and then fast till his hips are a blur and you feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“You best fucking believe I’m always going to keep you pregnant from now on.” Ari growls in your ear, squeezing your tits together as he paws at you like a feral caveman, his fingers pressing against your throat and cutting off your air supply just enough for your vision to blur and it all feels so deliciously good and you’re long past the point of even being coherent as you wail and scream for him.

You can feel him losing himself, getting rougher and rougher. You know your husband too well, you know he’s turning himself on more and more at the idea of impregnating you again. His lips latch onto your neck, sucking and biting while his hands squeeze your breasts so hard it hurts, and you feel your milk dribble down your nipples.

Ari sees it too, and you swear you can feel his dick get even harder inside you. In a nanosecond, he’s manhandled you into a different position. Now, he’s sitting on the bed with you on top of him, and he’s bouncing you up and down on his dick. And oh my fucking God, it’s so much deeper this way! You can feel your puffy clit grind against his trimmed pubic hairs as he does all the work, his muscular arms wrapping around you, not caring at all that your pregnant belly is in the way as he continues to fuck up into you.

“Can’t let your mommy milk go to waste, can we?” Ari grins, grabbing your tit and latching his mouth on it immediately, sucking down so hard that you see stars. He lets go with a pop, “Guess I didn’t get all of it, huh, baby?”

You hold his head in place, carding your fingers through his brown waves as he continues to drink your milk like a ravenous beast, like he can’t get enough of it. Switching from one nipple to the other, giving both your breasts equal attention as he drains the milk from them.

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re breastfeeding daddy, baby.” Ari tells you, his voice muffled as he keeps his face buried in your breasts. And all the while he’s bouncing you up and down on his dick, and you can feel your second orgasm start to build up – and he hasn’t even cum once yet! You wonder how he remains so calm, so casual enough to have a conversation with you during sex. Meanwhile you’re a dishevelled mess on top of him, head lolling to the side as you’ve already gone dumb from all his ministrations.

“God, fuck, gonna keep you pregnant at all times now, sweetheart.” Ari declares, getting feral again as his hand splays out on your belly. “I want at least five more kids, baby. You gonna give daddy five more babies?”

“Y-Yeah! Yeah, I will!”

“That’s a good fuckin’ girl. A good fucking baby wife. I’m so glad I found you, baby. I love you so fucking much.” He kisses you, pulling you by the hair till you’re flush against him, his hips fucking up into you at a blurring pace that makes you feel like he’ll rip you in half any second now.

“And all the other guys will be so fucking jealous that they don’t have a cute little knocked up baby wife who does whatever they ask. Fuck! Tell me you’re my cute little baby wife!” He pinches your nipple harshly before going back to your belly, rubbing it with his huge hand as he clutches you so close on top of him.

“ ‘m your cute little b-baby wife!” You moan, finally finding the energy to desperately ride him, up and down and backwards and forwards, grinding against the thick steel rod that is his dick as it jams up your poor, abused fuckhole.

“Damn right you are. And I’m your daddy who knocked you the fuck up. And I’ll do it again and again, because you’re my fucking property and I can do whatever the fuck I want with you! You got that? Fuck!”

“Yeah, oh fuck, yeah, daddy, you own me! Wanna have more of your babies! Want you to keep me pregnant all the time!” You blabber incoherently.

“And you’re gonna obey me, and be a good little mommy to all our children, aren’t you?” He smacks your ass hard, once, twice, three times till your ass is sure to be raw and all the while you nod and agree with him, “A good little mommy who does what she’s told to do, and spreads her legs every time daddy wants to knock her up again, you got that?”

“Yes!”

“Fuck, sweetheart. Can’t wait to come home to you taking care of our little ones. Five of ‘em, with another one on the way. Fuck, can’t fuckin’ wait for that.” Ari grunts, his thrusts growing deeper and hitting your spot so deliciously and making you mewl, as well as his words and promises of keeping you pregnant which have you turned on beyond belief.

The pressure in your lower belly builds up higher and higher, more intense till you almost can’t stand it. And it feels so deliciously good, your pleasure mounting higher and higher as Ari continues to fuck you throw it all, holding you close and coaxing you, telling you to cum again for daddy, giving you permission to let go and cover his fat dick in your cream. And you obey, and you cum so hard, marvelling at how much of it squirts out of you.

Like a broken faucet, squirt after squirt of your cum covers his cock, and you sob and clutch at Ari’s hairy chest, burying your face in his hard chest as you cum so hard you almost faint. “Oh daddy, daddy, daddy!” you whimper like a broken record, like a baby who’s collapsed and needs to be held by her big, strong daddy.

“That’s a good baby,” Ari coos, stroking your hair like you’re his good little girl and the pride in his voice makes you sag with relief and euphoria, and his thrusts grow sloppy as he continues to ride you through your orgasm. His fat balls slapping against your pussy, and you know his load will be big because he’s held off so long.

“Fuck, baby.” Ari lets out a guttural groan before he cums, emptying himself inside of you as spurt after spurt of his hot cum sears you from the inside out. Brands you as his as your greedy pussy squelches and swallows his seed like it’s your job. And Ari looks so proud, holding you so close to him till it hurts, like he doesn’t want a single drop of his cum wasted as he fills you up like you’re his personal cumdump. “God-fucking-dammit, your greedy little snatch is squeezing me so good, baby. Best fuckin’ pussy I ever had, taking all my daddy cum like a good little girl. Fuck, take it, take all of it!”

And you do, taking every drop of his thick ropes of cum till you feel so full, stuffed to the brim with his heavy load as you fall down, completely spent and breathing hard, on your back on the bed.

You’re completely sapped of all energy, and again you marvel at how Ari seems perfectly fine, as if he hadn’t just emptied the world’s biggest load inside of you after a long session of unbridled, hot, rough sex. But your husband seems more interested in your body in its post orgasmic glow, rubbing you all over as you rest from the fucking you’ve just received, marvelling at his cum as it drips out of your pussy.

“Looks like your baby pussy couldn’t keep it all in, honey.” Ari swipes a finger up your slit and it comes up covered in his cum. Your mouth drops open in the shape of an o, which works out in your husband’s favour as he feeds you the thick cum. Globs of it, again and again, swiping up from your pussy before he brings his finger to your lips and allows you to suckle it off him. And it’s all you can do in your weakened, post-fucked state, suckle his fingers like a baby as your daddy feeds you his cum.

“Th-Thank you, daddy.” You murmur weakly, not forgetting your manners as Ari smiles down at you smugly. Finally tearing his gaze away from your body, he lies down next to you and gathers you into his arms for a cuddle. Kissing the top of your head and all over your face as he holds you close to him, till you can feel his heartbeat in sync with your own.

“You’re welcome, baby. I love you so much.” Ari answers, looking like the happiest man in the world. And it’s such a powerful feeling, knowing it’s you who has made him feel this way.

“Love you too, daddy.” You say tiredly, cuddling close and burying your face into his hairy chest as you breathe in his intoxicating post-sex musk. “Can’t wait to give you more babies. Can’t wait for our boys to come. I’ll be the best mommy to your babies, I promise.”

Ari chuckles, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as he gazes at you with eyes filled with adoration. His hand goes down to cup your belly, and he squeezes you so close to him, you feel you might suffocate. But in the best way.

“I know you will, baby. I know you’ll take care of my children, but right now I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

“Okay, daddy.”

He runs you a strawberry scented bubble bath, carrying you to the bathroom and getting into the tub with you. Gently scrubbing you clean and massaging your sore muscles and sensitive skin while you lie on top of him in the bath, content and barely conscious from the incredible session of fucking you’ve just received. Smiling faintly as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, promising you the world and more, his words painting the perfect life which lays in store for you in the future, as well as the perfect life you’re currently living now – all because of him.

THE END! This is my ultimate fantasy and i have no clue why i never wrote it before now! pLEASE PELASE let me know what you think! thank you very very much! love you all!

#ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers #dark ari levinson #ari levinson fanfiction #steve rogers x reader

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