#he also has a purposely crooked smile which i think is so silly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

finelinevogue · 3 years ago

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Can you do something where Y/N is sick and Harry has to take care of her please?

i actually had written something similar to this before so i present you a lengthy blurb;

You were pretty sure if you got invited in to hell it would feel something like this.

Hot. Sticky. But chilled.

You had come down with a concerningly high temperature. Along with the added luxuries of a deafening headache, cold sweats and an upset tummy. Your body was burning all over, as if it had just been freshly cooked in the oven but you felt colder than ice. It was a confusing juxtaposition, but there it was.

You'd called Harry, since he was in the studio recording his new music and asked him to come home early. You didn't even get to the reasoning of why he should come home before he hung up, telling you he was already vacating the premises. You hated to be that needy girlfriend who had to call about nearly everything, but Harry loved it more than anything. He loved the fact that you needed him. It gave him purpose, apparently .

You couldn't work out whether you regretted asking him to come home, or whether it was a blessing. It was a very fine line.

It was a blessing because, he looked after you like a mother would her child and made sure he stood by your side any time you found yourself lurched over a toilet. He made you chicken soup from scratch and even tested it to make sure it wasn't too hot, or salty - despite being a vegetarian himself. He even made you honey and lemon tea, which he had to run to the store for the honey. When you say run, you mean run. He didn't want to leave you alone at all, so he put on his running shoes and sprinted to the shop and back. However, it was a slight regret because of how fussy he was over you. He loved it to bits - nursing to your every need.

You truly believed you didn't deserve Harry. He was just too kind and pure for his own good. You were unarguably lucky. Laying on what felt like your death bed, didn't feel so lucky though.

It was now 10 pm and you could hear Harry turning on the alarm for downstairs, the loud beeping noise preventing you from sleep. That's all you'd done all day. Sleep. You thought it'd be more magical than it was. It was just uncomfortable though, because of how cold and hot you were.

Your much better looking other half trudged through the bedroom door within a minute of the alarm going off. He was only wearing checkered pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt and yet he made it look like Gucci Runway 2021.

The jingling of keys signalled Charlie was also present. Charlie was your 2 year old Golden Retriever. He was beautiful. When you and Harry has moved in together 2 years ago you'd managed to persuade him to get a dog. Within a few weeks of moving in you had a 5 month old puppy running around your house. He was your best friend, no doubt about it. He was also ridiculously photogenic.

"Hey Chaz!" You cooed as Charlie walked over to your side of the bed, where you were snuggling down under the sheets. You reached out your hand to give him some loving and attention. You could tell by the small smile and sparkling eyes that he was one happy boy.

"Alright, buddy. Let's leave mum alone." Harry came behind Charlie to manoeuvre him into his bed, which was in the corner of the room. It was more like a big cushion. He started to whine after being forced to leave you - having not seeing you all day. Harry was strict in keeping him downstairs so not to disturb you whilst you were sleeping.

"H it's alright, let him on the bed. He can curl up on my feet." You sympathised with Charlie, as you always did, hating to hear or see him upset. Harry was like the 'bad-cop' when it came to parenting Charlie, because you were too sweet to say no to him.

"You're one spoilt boy, aren’t you?" Harry messed around with Charlie, before telling him he could get up on the bed to see you. Charlie leapt on the bed and wandered over to give you all the kisses he could, before Harry came to calm him down - as you really didn't have the strength.

"I missed you too, Chaz." You quietly laughed, not wanting to set your headache off even more.

"You gonna let me kiss mum now?" Harry rhetorically asked, but as he came over to you Charlie laid down on you so your face was buried underneath his body. You could feel him panting with his adorable tongue out above you, as he hid you from Harry.

"Someone's jealous."

"Feeling like a bloody third wheel over here." Harry tutted and you laughed until you got hot with the movement.

"Harry? Can you move him please?" You whined as you tried to shuffle around.

"Okay Chaz. Let's let mum get some sleep, alright?" Charlie is slowly removed from you and ends up curled on top of your feet, keeping them warm for you.

Harry slipped into the covers and shuffled his way over to you, putting the back of his hand over your forehead and hissing quietly at the simple touch.

"Baby you're so hot." Harry complained.

"I know." You teased with a wink at him, taking his worry out of context and turning it into a flirting compliment.

"Oh piss off!" He chuckled and wrapped an arm around your waist to bring you closer. "What am I going to do with you, baby?" Harry then planted only a few delicate kisses to your lips - not wanting to overwork you and your tired body.

••••

You woke up with drowsy eyes to find you're in bed alone.

Your throat was incredibly dry and your whole body was sticky from sweat. Your pyjamas were damp and your face looked like it'd just been drowned in a rainstorm. It was disgusting. Still, you brought the duvet up to cover yourself more, as you let out a dramatic shiver. Why was it so cold?

Mixed into the background noise you could hear the cheering of crowds and it really confused you, until you looked at the wall and noticed the football was playing on re-run on the TV. Manchester United Vs Manchester City. You hated that you knew that just from their football uniforms, but that's what you get for living with a football-crazed boyfriend.

You noticed Harry emerge from the bathroom, a washing up bowl in his arms. He came and sat down in bed, the bucket of water to his side. "What are you doing?" You quietly asked, peering up at him through tired eyes.

"Oi, you're meant to be sleep y’minx." Harry told you off.

"I can't. I'm too uncomfortable. I'm hot, but i'm cold. I also find it hard to sleep without you next to me." You huffed out in annoyance.

"My poorly baby." He leant down to kiss your forehead, "c’mere, baby." He urged.

He helped you move, seeing as your body was really weak, so you could lay down against Harry’s body. He was sat up against the headboard as you nestled down between his legs, your back to his front. It was a lot more comfortable than before - probably because Harry was closer to you. Charlie noticed the disturbance and waited for you to stop moving around, before maintaining the job of guarding your feet.

Once he was happy in his position he fell asleep again, making you jealous of his ability to do that. Especially now.

"Why's the football on?" You asked, motioning towards the TV.

"Had to keep myself awake somehow." He explained, but it only made you more confused.

"Why?"

"So I can take care of you, y’muppet." His words actually melted your heart - more than chocolate could melt on your forehead right now.

After you'd settled, Harry reached into the bucket and drained out a cloth. He made sure all the excess water was cleared before moving it away from the bucket. You hummed in appreciation when he placed it against your forehead, rotating it to the back of your neck also in order to relax and cool you. It made you realise just how hot you were.

"I think i'm dying, Harry." You groaned as the nausea came over you again. Harry kept a firm hold of the cloth on your forehead, dabbing gently and careful to not let any water drip down into your eyes.

"No you're not, baby." Harry gave you a light-hearted laugh.

"Well, living shouldn't feel as shitty as this H." You grumbled, not appreciating his lack of understanding.

“Then just let me take you to the chuffing hospital!" He exclaimed, making Charlie stir slightly.

Harry had been demanding you go to the hospital all day and all evening, but you were too stubborn to go. That, and you were terrified of hospitals - more terrified of needles and blood than anything else. However, you were starting to reach the point where you were giving in to his request, though. It was becoming unbearable to sleep and harder to breathe. You were worried for yourself.

"I don't like it." You pouted like a child, as Harry wrung the cloth through the fresh water again.

"I don't care whether you like it or not, Y/N, I really think we should go. More like need." Harry insisted and you could tell he wasn’t giving up without a fight. You didn’t want that either.

You hated how he was right.

It was only going to get worse from here, and you didn't really want to be alive when that was going you happen, so going to the hospital to get checked over and drugged up seemed like the best option to go for. The more sensible option.

"Fine." You finally accepted, Harry slinking his arms tight around your waist after discarding the cloth in to the bucket. He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck and planted an abundance of kisses there, your skin burning just to the touch.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." He repeated in-between kisses.

•••••

It took 20 minutes to get in to the car. 20 minutes.

All because Charlie was reluctant to letting you get up and go. So Harry had to dress you into a more appropriate attire, with a dog sat on your lower body. It was then half an hour later that you were in the hospital.

The hospital was quiet at this time of night and for that you were grateful. It was obviously a night where little numbers of people were doing silly things to get themselves hurt. There was the odd patient for a minor cut injury and there were a couple of people in for burns. There was even a woman in because she accidentally superglued her hand to a bottle of superglue - ironic, but painful.

You sat patiently on Harrys lap, waiting for someone to escort you to a cubicle. You were freezing cold, to the point where your teeth were chattering - your outside body was giving off the opposite temperature. You tried to get as close to Harry's warmth as possible, pushing your body against his.

"You're alright baby." Harry shushed you, as you let out a small tremble.

"If I do die—"

"Which you won't." Harry chuckled.

"I know, but if I did I want you to know that I love you." You told him. Even though he's heard you say it a million times before, it still made his heart flutter as you spoke each word.

"I love you, baby." He kissed the side of your head. "But you're going to be just fine, so no more talking about you dying okay?"

"Why? It's only a natural thing." You pointed out.

"Sure, but I don't want to think of a world without my girl living in it. So zip it before I make you."

You never thought of dying as a world without Harry before now and it wasn't the time to start thinking about it either. It was a horrible thought and you understood why Harry didn't want you speak about it. That world would be so dark and empty and you hated thinking about it.

Harry was called to the front desk to fill in some forms for you, since your hands were too cold and shaky to do it for yourself. He accidentally wrote 'Styles' as your second name, before realising his mistake and scribbling it out.

“Shit.” Harry went red in the face and chuckled over his silly mistake. His hand was shaky and you smiled at how he got so flustered over something so simple. You rested your hand on top of his, bringing his attention to you.

“One day.” You told him and he leaned to give you a kiss on the lips. You couldn’t help but feel like his lips were a future promise to make sure he wouldn’t have to scribble out his second name the next time it was written next to yours.

The doctor saw you shortly afterwards and you thanked your lucky stars that there was no injections or removal of any blood involved, Harry sticking with you the whole time. Turns out you were suffering from a moderate fever, but the doctor said with good rest it should pass. The doctor had given Harry permission to make a big fuss over you - explaining how he was going to love it and you were going to hate it - and to make sure to come back with even the slightest worsen of the fever. You got given a prescription list of various medications that you'd need to take over the next week or so. After collecting the drugs, you were back in the car on the way home.

"Told you you weren't going to die." Harry smiled, happy to have you still by his side, whilst holding your hand over the gear console.

"Unfortunate for you, I guess."

"Will you shut you, y’bloody nuisance. You know I can't do life without you, Y/N." He spoke softly, squeezing your hand tighter to assure you that he's going nowhere.

"Same here." You smile at him and he smirks back at you with his dimple-loving smile.

"You’ll always be it for me, baby." Harry speaks, before you drift back off to sleep.

Happily.

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hormoneasfuckforkillers · 3 years ago

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Hello, I saw you were taking requests and I wanted to ask what if the slashers S/o was really into music and write a song about them?

S/o really into music and write a song about them

Michael Myers Michael really loved music, listened to it frequently before being sent to Smith's Grove, and honestly he hasn't listened since that time. So you being connected to music, it causes a certain good reaction. You both might end up talking about rock and metal when he's in a good mood, he has a very strong bond with bands like Kiss and he really believes that music expresses things that ordinary emotions cannot explain. So you having written a song for him means a lot more than he lets you know. It's cute, he rarely finds something cute, and it's definitely not the right word to show how he's feeling about it. His ego builds up and he won't deny it and may make snide remarks about it. He feels loved in a way and will be thinking about it for a long time. - If you both have a considerable relationship time, he will be much more receptive, hugging, leaving small kisses on your face and praising, taking the paper with the lyrics of the song and smiling behind the mask, with you sitting on his lap.

Vincent Sinclair This man is melting. Did you do it for him? About him? Damn, he never felt like that in his life. He's very insecure, and throughout his life he's always been doing art for others, he's never been anyone's inspiration and it feels so freaking good. He'll just grab you without reaction and bury his face in the crook of your neck, giving you a few kisses. He's emotional about it, give him a second to think. He has a very introspective side, he will think a lot in a short time about every word he utters, about your purposes, he may even be incredulous, but soon the feeling will knock him over, and his head will fill with the feeling of to be loved and appreciated for what he are. His music style is 100% based on classical music, but definitely yours music is an absurd exception, he wants to save the paper with the lyrics and record you playing, but he prefers not to ask you to do it again, so as not to sound insistent and spoil the moment. So he's just going to save the lyrics and think about it.

Bo Sinclair Wow. He might make some malicious comments because of the shock he is feeling. He listens to music quite often, usually metal which is where he buries the anger he feels. You both have very good-humored conversations about music, and blast your ears with the gas station radio. He admires your connection to music in a way and he can't hide the silly smiles listening to what you've done to him. Dude... You did it for him! He has always been surrounded by artists and this was the first time he felt admired by one and he knows that an artist's eyes are the most sensitive. It's going to be one of the few situations where you'll see Bo being cute. He will kiss you intensely, smiling between kisses. If you curse him or something, he might tease you by saying "Funny because that' song you made said exactly the opposite."

Lester Sinclair Another one that was always surrounded by artists, but never received the attention of one. He appreciates how much you like music, he thinks it's cute that you have a passion for something he also likes, and that you both can talk about it. It's just beautiful how dedicated you are, and having spent your time doing something for him is so much more than you could ever imagine it would mean to him. He won't hide how happy and honored he feels, he can jump up and down. It will spin you in the air if it can. He doesn't usually listen to music, but for you he'll start listening more often. He's proud of you by the way.

Brahms Heelshire Hold onto your chairs, because the big baby has arrived. He's going to be very emotional about the whole thing because he's really feeling loved and reciprocated. Was this all because he was a good boy lately? It was so worth it. He wants more, he'll grab your hand and beg you to show him one more time. Brahms loves music in an almost unbelievable way, he prefers classical as it soothes him, but sometimes he allows himself to experiment other styles for you. He plays the piano and constantly likes to sit with you in the music room and play for you, he also loves listening to you talk about music. Buy CD's that you guys will probably have a collection of. Of course, he couldn't be happier to see your art being for him. It's going to be really sticky after that, but that's because he's so happy, and listening to your music only reinforced his passion for you.

Thomas Hewitt He hardly ever listens to music. Music for him is the sound the knife makes when cutting meat or the thin screams of some generic girl. He honestly doesn't know much about music and when you came into his life it was like he was getting to know a world apart. He didn't know current music was so bad haha. Pop hurts his ears, for god's sake, what the fuck is this music and ironically he preferred 80s rock. When he hears the music you made for him, this guy is honestly confused. Did you do it for him? fuck, he's in shock at how good he's feeling. It's beautiful, just like you, like everything you do. Sit on this man's lap and let him squeeze you for a while ok? he needs. It doesn't look like it, but he's genuinely thrilled. You made his world better. Expect a very passionate Thomas. He's proud of you and can hardly believe you love him that way.

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idy-ll-ique · 4 years ago

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One And Only.

Pairing: Mob Boss!Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: s*x

Requested: nope

Summary: Their marriage is for business purposes only but they fall in love. Until Y/N starts having a doubt... does Steve Rogers have a mistress? It's all a misunderstanding...

Author's Note: Hiya peeps, iw!Steve in this one. Enjoy!

---

"Hey, you doing okay?" Y/N turned away from the mirror and smiled at Natasha and Wanda. "As well as a bride could be minutes before her wedding," she jabbed, making the ladies chuckle. "It's going to be fine, Y/N, Steve will treat you well. We've been friends with him for years, one thing we know about him is that he never treats women wrong."

"I don't doubt that, it's just that— I met him a week ago. One time. I don't even know him, anything about him, other than the fact that he leads the most feared crime gang in the entire country," Y/N muttered, tugging at the sapphire necklace she was wearing. Something blue. "You will get to know him soon enough, though. Come on now, everyone is waiting."

Her father stood outside the door, a soft smile on his face. "You look lovely, honey," he cooed, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead as the two ladies sauntered past them into the Hall with their partners. "Thank you, papa." The two people walked into the Hall and everyone stood up to greet the bride. At the end of the aisle stood Steve, tall and proud, a huge smile on his face.

Y/N couldn't help but smile back. As soon as she reached near him her father let go, but not before pressing a kiss to her cheek. Steve took her hand and brought it to his lips when she stood in front of him. The priest standing next to them began his usual recitations; Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today… Y/N didn't really pay attention to his speech.

She was busy staring at Steve, who looked magnificent in an all black suit, his dirty blond hair and full beard making her feel all sorts of things. His smile softened a bit, also not listening to the priest. He was observing her. It was supposed to be purely transactional, the marriage, but he knew it wasn't gonna end like one. It would be a proper marriage.

Happily married.

She looked wonderful. He met her a week ago; a bit wary at the concept of merging two mobs by marriage but the moment he saw her, he knew he had to have her. She was his, no one else's. The two quickly exchanged their vows as the ring bearers came forward with the rings. The bride and the groom took the rings with smiles and turned to face each other.

"Steve Rogers, do you take Y/N Y/L/N to be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in marriage? Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, and forsaking all others, be faithful only to her, for as long as you both shall live?" The priest turned to Steve expectantly.

"I do," Steve spoke, loud and clear, as he slipped the ring on Y/N's finger. Y/N had to admit, she felt a bit giddy when those words left his mouth.

"Y/N Y/L/N, do you take Steve Rogers to be your lawfully wedded husband, to live together in marriage? Do you promise to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health and forsaking all others, be faithful only to him so long as you both shall live?" Y/N smiled shyly at Steve. "I do."

Steve grinned widely when she neatly placed the ring on his finger. "You may now kiss the bride." And the whole room erupted into stentorian cheering as Steve gathered his wife in his arms, pressing his lips to hers in a deep kiss. Only when he heard a wolf-whistle coming from the crowd did Steve stop, pulling away to look at his out-of-breath wife.

"Mrs Rogers," he spoke fondly and she giggled. "Mr Rogers," she teased as they turned to the crowd, Y/N clutching Steve's arm as they smiled widely. Not many people had attended the impromptu wedding; just Steve's close friends and Y/N's father. Her bridesmaids were Natasha and Sharon, with Wanda being her maid-of-honor.

Steve's groomsmen were Sam and Tony, with Bucky being his best man. "Well, the first dance goes to the bride and her father, I'd say," Clint called out, already helping himself to a bottle of beer as music started playing. Steve reluctantly handed his wife over to her father, bidding her with a sweet kiss on her cheek.

"I hope you know why I had to do this, honey," her father sighed as they danced in the middle of the Hall. "I know, papa. Don't feel bad, I think I'm starting to like Steve. He seems friendly enough and Nat and Wan told me he's good to women." Her dad chuckled. "Well, he doesn't have the label of promiscuity that other leaders do." He was right.

Steve Rogers never really had time for dating, too busy leading the salient mafia. Also, the thought of having women just for a night or two didn't sit right with him, so he never went in that direction. "Can I have this dance now?" As soon as the song changed Steve appeared on her side, holding his hand out. She smiled and took his hand.

He easily slid an arm around her waist as the music slowed. One hand around her waist and the other holding her hand in classic ballroom dancing position, he pulled her closer. She rested her head on his chest, the arm which was around his neck lowering to his middle. "I'll treat you well," Steve whispered as they languidly swayed in the middle of the room.

"I know. If it's not much, um, I think I'd like to take things slow…" she hinted, hoping he'd notice. And he did. "Of course, of course, we can do that. I don't want to make you uncomfortable in any way," he assured her. "Thank you, Mr Rogers," she mumbled. "My pleasure, Mrs Rogers." The rest of the ceremony was enjoyable to say the least.

---

10 months had passed since the wedding.

Steve and Y/N were still taking things slow, against their own wishes.

It was a misunderstanding.

They loved each other; they really did, but they couldn't bring themselves to say the words to the other. Steve was purposely not making the first move, in fear that his wife would think he was rushing things. Y/N, on the other hand, had started severely doubting herself because 10 months have passed, does he not want to be with me anymore?

She was expecting him to make the first move, and he was expecting her to give him the permission first. It was annoying, to say the least. They were still friendly with each other, so Steve didn't pay much attention to the anxiety his wife was feeling. Y/N was beside herself with worry that had increased tenfold since... well, 15 minutes ago. She had overheard a conversation.

"So, how's Smith treating ya?"

"Same old, ya know. He has like 3 bitches as mistresses, thinks I don't know about 'em. Which mob man doesn't have a mistress in today's world, ha?"

"Preach, sister. I'd think even Rogers has one, heard somewhere that he and his little wife haven't even consummated their marriage. Probably doesn't even wanna be with her, he did marry her for the business."

"Mmhm, I agree. What about you, Lin?"

"Oh, Danny? Probably out there sleeping with Denise."

She didn't mean to eavesdrop on their personal conversation, but she couldn't help it. Mistress? She was familiar with the term, but what she was not familiar with was the fact that nearly all married mobsters had one. And when they mentioned Steve, she was done for. Crying, she had gone back to her room, collapsing on the bed, sobbing.

In her crying state, she failed to notice Steve also in the room as she raked her brain, thinking about all the times Steve had come home from work. He had given her no reason to believe that he had another woman, but what if he was just that good at hiding it? "Sweetheart? My love, why are you crying?" The bed dipped next to her.

Steve had just stepped out of the shower when his wife had thrown the door of their shared suite open, falling on the bed with a nerve-wracking sob. Why was she crying? "S-Steve…" she stammered and he pulled her on his lap, rocking her back and forth, getting her to calm down. It worked as Y/N's heart rate slowed down.

"Y/N, tell me, what happened? Who hurt you, tell me their names." Steve suddenly saw red at the prospect of someone hurting his wife. "N-No one hurt me, I just… I accidentally overheard a conversation I shouldn't have and—" She trailed off when her breath hitched. Steve soothingly rubbed her back, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

"What were they talking about?"

"Mistresses. One of the ladies said that nearly all mob men had mistresses and I— We haven't even consummated our marriage, haven't done anything besides kissing so I just thought— Do you have a mistress?" Her question shocked him. Him? Keeping a mistress when he had a wife he was head-over-heels for? "My darling, I love you."

She looked up at his words. "You do?" she mumbled, taking a deep breath. "Of course I do. The only reason I didn't say anything was because you told me, on the day of our wedding, that you wanted to take things slow. Before doing something, I needed your permission and that's why I haven't made a move on you." Y/N felt very silly all of a sudden.

"I'm so sorry for accusing you—"

He chuckled and shook his head. "Don't apologize to me, princess. Come here." He hugged her tightly, cradling the back of her head as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. "Do you know how many of my colleagues have asked me the same question?" She gently shook her head. "One too many. Do you know what I say to them each time?"

"No…"

"I say, why would I have a mistress when my wife makes me the happiest person on the planet? Why would I have a mistress when my wife is an angel personified? You guys are just jealous that she's mine and not yours." Y/N's skin burnt at his praise and she burrowed closer to him. "Steve," she muttered bashfully and felt him chuckle underneath her.

"Will you allow me to show you just how much I love you?"

"Yes."

He gently lowered her on the bed and hovered above her, one large hand coming to rest on her cheek. Then he made quick work of their clothes until they were bare in front of each other; Steve's eyes went wide with awe when he saw her body. "You are perfect," he declared, his warm hands grabbing every bit of skin it came in contact with as his lips touched her neck.

Y/N mewled underneath him when he shamelessly groped both her breasts, groaning. "So perfect. So beautiful. Only mine, my one and only," he whispered, pressing his lips to hers in a chaste kiss as he felt his shaft harden. "I love you," she blurted out as one of his hands found her core, his fingers scissoring her open, getting her ready for penetration.

"I love you too, my sweet," he smiled at her before lining his shaft against her core. He pushed in inch-by-inch, giving her some time to adjust to his size. He was bigger than anyone she had previously been with, much bigger. Y/N bit her lip to stifle a moan as he bottomed out inside her, grunting. "None of that," he rasped, "I want to hear you."

Y/N groaned when he lazily rotated his hips, not holding back, just like he asked. "That's it, baby girl. Just like that." He sped up inside her, grabbing the headboard of the bed, each snap of his hips sending waves of pleasure washing over Y/N. "Oh, Steve," she whimpered, her hands balling into fists around the bedsheets she was clutching, moving weightlessly against him.

"Are you close, my dear?" he growled when her walls clenched around him. She meekly nodded, throwing her head back as she tried to hold in. "Only one moment, love, I'm close too." His thrusts soon got sloppier. "Cum with me," he ground out before letting go, shooting his load inside her. Y/N came just moments later, her arms wrapping around Steve's shoulders when he slumped on her.

"There we go, our marriage is sealed," he joked and she laughed tiredly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Steve rolled off of her, smiling gently when he saw her drifting in and out of consciousness. "Go to sleep, I'm right here. I'll take care of you." He got up and walked to the closet, taking out a spare towel. Running it under some hot water, he sat next to her and cleaned her up.

Then he cleaned himself up, put on a pair of pyjama pants and lay down next to his sleeping wife, an automatic smile blooming on his face. He'd dreamed that their first time would be unforgettable, and it was, but he also wished it was… longer. God knew he was an insatiable man; but he also didn't want to pressure the woman he had grown to love.

There's always a next time, anyway.

"Sleep tight, my dear."

---

A/N: Leave a like if you enjoyed, thanks for reading!

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mxvladdy · 4 years ago

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THE WAY YOU FILLED YOUR FIRST REQUEST SHOOK ME?!?!?!? YOU BLESSED US!? Would you mind also imagining how Mammon, Luci and Belphie would feel with a MC who's guarded with themselves and their feelings to avoid hurt, so they try to keep these brothers at a friendly arm's length as they don't believe the brothers don't really care about them? It would make me so happy, thank you so much!

EEEEK! Sorry for the wait. It took forever and a day to get enough time to seat uninterrupted and then try to edit ;.;

I hope you like it! Apologies if I didn’t get the prompt just right!

Mammon

He didn’t hide his disdain for his human protection duty when you first met. The fact that you kept him at an arm's length was a devil’s blessing. Good! He is a busy demon after all, he doesn’t have time for some human. At first.

Then he caught the feels and it’s all downhill for him at his ‘cool devil’ act. Not that you ever NOTICED.

He tries to flirt with you. Before you, he thought he was good at it too.

He’s never had someone so civil with his advances. You smile and laugh politely at whatever complement he throws at you. You might even give him a few back in a teasing, but clearly friendly manner.

You stress it heavily whenever he comes on too heavy with his advances. You stamp down whatever feelings he evokes and try to keep your line clean and precise in the shifting sand of your relationship.

He takes you out one evening after school, determined to get an actual answer from you over some made up snack he lied about. You don’t think anything of it, happy for an excuse to hang out. You walk and talk, not taking notice of his steadily reddening face as he keeps making swipes at your hand each time it brushes his.

You make an off-handed (get it) remark about the closeness and offer to walk behind this was bothering him.

He is miffed and throws out all semblance of “coolness”. Just flat out confess. Face flaming hot from embarrassment and sweaty palms now shoved into his jacket.

It was a blink and you’d miss it kind of moment. Mammon’s cheeks start to heat gradually. A staunch look of panic growing behind his eyes.

The words just slip off his tongue. His lips forming a sentence you were dreading. You didn’t quite catch it all; his declaration lost in the wind of the open market. You try to catch his gaze, to make him repeat himself clearly, for what purpose you didn’t know. You don't particularly want to hear it again, yet it would give you time to compose some kind of response.

He refuses to look at you. No matter which way you bob and weave beneath him, he dances around you. His face always looking in the opposite direction of yours. His gaze permanently pointing at his feet. The uneven cobblestone beneath his scuffed boots was suddenly very interesting it seemed. "I'm sorry? I didn't catch that." You ask once more, grabbing on to the crook of his elbow.

He buries himself deeper into the flipped collar of his coat and whispers it again. "I-I like ya, ok? Like like like ya know?" He stumbles over his thoughts.

Now how in the hells were you supposed to dodge this? It had been easier to evade his blatant affections when even he wasn't admitting to them. "No, you don't." You step away with a dry chuckle. "Don't be silly." You back away shaking your head in denial. You were sure Mammon could feel your heart rate picking up. You need some space, more space than the street could give you. Somewhere away from your tall, sweet, white-haired problem.

"Oi!" He makes a grab for you as you turn to flee. He spins you around leaning down to meet with you face to face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"We are friends Mammon," You try to wiggle out of his strong, yet gentle grip. "You're just mixing up the feelings." Bullshit. With him touching you, your joint pack acted like an amplifier. You very much felt what he thought of you. The yearning from his newfound mental clarity mixes with the panic of your rejection. It makes a bittersweet taste bloom in your mouth, so hopefully yet reserved.

He was not so lucky. Your feelings felt like ash on his tongue, a sour tang of fear and self-doubt building on his sense. You were afraid of the inevitable, or what you presumed to be the inevitable.

You were supposed to be friends then disappear forever once the school year was up. Him, down here, and you back to being just another nameless soul in the human realm. No need to get the storyline all tangled. "Hey-hey," Mammon speaks in a rush. "It ain't like that, really." He coos shuffling you closer till you are wrapped tightly in his soft leather jacket. He pours more of himself into the pack, opening himself up in ways he never thought capable of from his demonic form.

"I'm stupid." You speak into his chest. The warm reassurance of his unspoken pledge soothing you. It lessens the tight feeling of uncertainty that you had grown accustomed to.

"Ah- now, ain't that supposed to be my job?" The taste in his mouth dissipates slightly as you let out an indignant huff. He flinches as you poke his side hard between his rib cage.

"Told you to stop talking down on yourself Mammon."

The demon hums noncommittally keeping you close. He rocks you both from side to side, oblivious to the throngs of other pedestrians forced to walk around you two. "Guess I forgot. Maybe you could remind me? O-on a date?"

He smiles down at the little sliver of your face and eyes peeking up from the darkness of his jacket. He could damn near feel the smile trying to break from your forced scowl. "Just one?"

"Heh- don't bet on it."

Lucifer

Welcome to the ultimate game of pleasantry chicken. The two of you know this dance by heart, but your footwork isn't synching up.

Lucifer is trying to keep this whole debacle as professional as possible. You are an esteemed guest and pact holder for all of his brothers and himself. This should be business as usual. He totally has his emotions and growing frustration at your lack of interest in him in check.

Yup. He's fine. He's great; glad you two have such an unspoken understanding of your standing in his company and in the house. The same book, same chapter, same bloody page.

You are a good friend. Just. A. Very. Good. Friend.

He breaks first. Not that he will admit it. But the weekly coffee breaks become a bi-daily thing as he tries to court you. He draws these evenings out now. Have you finished your schoolwork? No, allow me to tutor you. Perhaps you would like to listen to this new vinyl with me tonight? It is a complete demon rendition of Wagner's Die Meistersinger. A classic, you’ll love it.

You take it all in stride. Thanking him innocently enough and going along with it. You buffer every little turn of phrase and slightly off-color hint of what he wanted from you with grace. So tactfully done he begins to doubt himself. You couldn’t be misconstruing his intentions right? He hasn’t doubted himself like this in a long time.

Diavolo catches on quickly to the kicked puppy look Lucifer tots around in your presence. He’ll tease, but try to help. He’s a decent wingman truth be told. “How has Lucifer been treating you? I haven’t seen him this happy in ages. He is a great friend to have, yes?” Kinda backfires when you agree that he is indeed a good friend. Oops.

He’ll crack one night over a glass (or bottle) of something strong he pulled from his study. You had slipped into his room unannounced asking for a quiet place to read before bed. The interruption to his musings leads to him running his mouth and pile driving his pride into the ground.

He can’t say no to you anymore. He really should. You were hell bent on keeping him at an arm's length, so he should too. Lucifer watches you like a hawk from behind his desk. His ungloved fingers swirling the dregs of his drink. The cognac inside of it looking up at him, his scowl reflecting in the rich red liquor. Don’t judge me. He scoffs at himself, was he that far gone that he was arguing with his glassware? Should have switched to the bottle hours ago.

“Luci?” You say again waving a hand in his face. “You forget to sleep again this week?” Your smile was warm, a little twinkle in your eye drawing a heat to his collar that had nothing to do with the spirits. You sit on the edge of his desk in your sleepwear. The baggy shirt and sweats reeked of his brothers.

“No.” He lies pushing his desk chair away. “Did you need something?”

You shrug hopping off the desk. “Not really. Wasn’t feeling movie night. You ok if I hang out here? It’s nice and quiet.” You slink off to the couch in front of the fire before he could answer.

“You could not do this in your room?” Lucifer snips. He tosses back the rest of his drink and rises to his feet. He grimaces at the burn spreading across his throat. “I’m sure it is quiet in there too.” He catches your eyes looking over the back of the lounge. While everything lower than the bridge of your nose was blocked by the black velvet he could feel the frown growing on your face.

“Well, yes. But I still want some friendly company. Just not rowdy company, I thought you wouldn’t mind...”

Devils. There was that word again. "You assume to know me?" He cannot hide the venom lacing his words. The liquor had dulled his senses enough that he could not hide his rancor.

“I’m-” You leave the chair coming around it to give him your full attention. This wasn’t like him. Not anymore at least. But you were used to the odd mood swings that plagued your companions. "I don’t assume anything about you Luci. But if you want to talk-"

“I don’t want to have some idle friendly chit chat.” He could feel the tantrum coming. “Have I not proven myself capable of-” His jaw snaps shut with an audible click that echoes across the spacious chamber.

“Of?”

A noticeable blush grows on his pale cheeks. “More.” He sighs deeply, he feels light-headed at the admission. Whether it was from the drinks or from going against his nature and swallowing his pride he couldn’t tell. “Am I not enough to be more than a friend to you?”

That takes you by surprise. You had speculated that he harbored feelings for you. Diavolo all but cementing the idea in your mind. But, this was Lucifer. It felt like just yesterday you were at each other's throats, before he recognized you as something other than a threat to his family. You wanted to respect that little bit of trust he had given you. “It’s not like I never thought about it.”

“But?” He perks up slightly hearing the unspoken word in your inflection. He could see your apprehension yet there was a shimmer of something else underneath. Something he could work with.

“I was- I am scared.”

“Finally, a reasonable response from being around demons.” Lucifer snorts.

“Hey! You know that’s not what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. Explain it to me.” He invades your space waiting to see what you would do. Run or stay. He would have his answer either way. You don’t move, instead, you wrap your arms around yourself. Guarding yourself yet standing firm. One of the many reasons why he admired you.

“I feel like we just became friends. I didn’t think you felt the same and I didn’t want to mess this all up.” You confess. “I just thought it would be easier this way.”

Lucifer absorbs your words quietly, nodding at the logic behind them. “Messes are not something I generally like true, but," He reaches for you, careful of your defensive stature to lead you back to the couch. “If you are willing to iron out the bumps with me I’d like to see what we can make of it.”

If it meant he could have you he would take as much time as you needed.

Belphegor

It takes him the longest to notice that you were trying to keep him at arm's length emotionally. It was hard for him to see at first since you still readily accepted his invitations to snuggle and hang out.

He thought he was very blatant with his desire for you and your affections. The head pats and evening is the planetarium or his attic.

The fact that he had apologized for that little murder mishap. He thought that was a big bright neon sign. Yet you always seemed to try to invite someone else along to chill or leave quickly after an hour or so. As much as he loved his twin and tolerated his other brothers he was trying to get you ALONE.

He starts trying to see you outside the house now too. Lunch in the cafeteria? Pffft. You are going to eat and nap with him in the courtyard. After School activities? Could you help him with some council stuff instead?

Yes, he will go out of his way to do work if you are involved.

You are still too closed off though. You act around him like you do around any of the other brothers and it drives him crazy. You are just so friendly and cordial with everyone. How come he is the only one that becomes a flushing mess now?

He becomes your second shadow, almost as bad as Mammon. You start to get an inkling of his intentions when he starts wanting to sleep in your bedroom at night instead of his or the attic. You let him but offer up the couch or split the bed with a pillow.

He snoops when he gets desperate. Did you like someone else? Was that why you were constantly acting like his advances were just him being overly friendly? He doesn’t find anything, you act like this around everyone else too.

He gives up. Stops interacting with you entirely. He is 99% sure he can sleep through the next century without being bothered. Maybe he’ll get over you by then.

“Belphie? You up here?” The demon in question opens a bleary eye to his locked door. He should stay quiet, leave you hanging. Give himself some vindictive pleasure in snubbing you.

“Hai~” He rises from his nest of blankets and pillows. “Hold on.” Unlocking the door he opens it ajar. You smile around the large stack of books and binders in your arms. “What is that?” Please don’t say homework.

“Work you’ve missed sulking up here.” You confirm his worst fear. “Satan and I thought we would spot you a bit though.” Belphegor watches you struggle for a second to pull a folded piece of paper out from the middle of the stack. “We got most of the answers done for you. Now you just have to fill the worksheets in with your handwriting.” You wave the paper expectantly.

Hearing his brother’s name makes him sour immediately. How long had you been hanging out with him now? “Thanks, leave them at the door then.” He goes to shut the door and return to his dreamless slumber but it’s blocked by your foot.

“Ouch.” You wince hopping back on one foot.

“Idiot! Are you hurt?” He wrenches the door open crouching down to take a look at your sock-covered foot.

“Nothing I can’t walk off. Though my arms are getting sore- weak human muscles an’ all.” You hint wiggling the stack in your arms. He takes the work this time, still eyeing your foot. “Relax, I’ve stubbed my toe with more force than that before.” You whisk by him, using his brief moment of distraction to slip by.

“Did I invite you in?” Belphegor eyes you with a frown. He kicks his door close and dumps the pile of papers on his already over-encumbered desk. Hmm. How many days had he missed?

You ignore him plopping down on the still warm sheets. “Nope!” You pop the ‘p’ with a grin. “But that has never stopped you from sneaking into my room. So fair trade all around.” You pat at the bed, clearing inviting him to join you. “Come on. I’ll help you finish that work then we can chill.”

Oh, now you want to hang out. He felt a rush of bitterness wash over him. “Don’t you have something better to do?” If this keeps up he’ll need another nap, alone preferably. “Doesn’t Asmo need a shopping buddy or something?”

“What’s gotten you all worked up?” You frown, hurt by his accusatory tone.

Belphie shoots you a wounded look. "We never hang out anymore." He sulks. "Alone, I mean. I'm tired of you always inviting Beel or someone else with us."

He glances over to you idly thumbing at one of the books on his desk. It's frustrating. This game of touch and go he accidentally got himself into. Ugh- why did this have to be so hard. "I want to spend more time with you. Just us, so why are you always avoiding that?"

"I.” You look down at your feet dangling off the side of his mattress. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I just felt like- like things were going off the rails between us.” You weren't oblivious to his advances.

He cocks his head in confusion. "Mmm? What are you afraid of?" You read a flicker in his eyes, a haunting memory of cruel fingers around your neck darken his gaze. "Ah-"

"No! No that's not it!" You panic waving your hands up. Of course, he would immediately go to that. "I'm just worried. I know you like me, and-just what if things don't work out? What if you realize what a mistake this could be?"

Your admission gives him pause. So you knew this whole time? Not surprising; he wouldn't fall for someone stupid. "So, are you admitting to liking me back?" He feels giddy when you nod, covering your heating face with your hands. " Well then, what’s the problem? It’s not a mistake if we both are making it.” He grins slyly. “How can it not work out if the feelings are mutual.”

“But what if you are mistaken?” He wraps you up into his arms, flopping you both over onto his messy bed. He takes one of your hands and places it on the top of his head all while burying his nose in your neck.

“Please,” He yawns, feeling his body grow heavy. “I don’t waste my energy on ‘mistakes’.”

#obey me fandom #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me belphegor #prompts! yay

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slashersins-abandoned · 4 years ago

Text

nsfw alphabet : vincent sinclair

A = Aftercare ( what they’re like after sex )

vincent will hold you while you both come down from your pleasured high . only letting you go once both of you have been able to calm down and even your breathing . he wants you to be aware , even if exhausted as he takes care of you . aftercare for vincent can last anywhere from minutes to over an hour . it depends on all that happened during your sensual exchange . his desire to touch you has him cleaning you , from damn near head to toe , with a warm wet rag . he’ll wipe away all the sweat with such deft fingers that it might just rile you up again . expect gentle kisses over any bruises left by his hands , or his mouth . if he happened to cum inside you , then he will use those long fingers of his to clean you out , crooking his fingers to drag it out , making sure that his fingers come out clean before he finishes the thorough torture . once clean your clean , he’ll tuck you into bed , taking care of himself quickly before moving back into the bed with you and pulling you close for lazy touches and kisses until sleep takes you both . on the other hand , aftercare can be as simple as cuddling and coddling you as you both come down before leading or carrying you into the shower and doing a quick rinse off . fast and easy so you can start your morning or go about your day .

B = Body part ( their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s )

vincent is proud of his hands . large palms with long slender fingers , trimmed and filed nails . paraffin wax has made it so there are little to no callouses on his hands , they are soft to the touch and surprisingly warm . he also sees his hands as useful tools . able to create art , whether it be painting , drawing , sculpting wax figures . he can do beautiful things with his hands . but they are also tools of destruction , ending lives with ease , strong and deadly and powerful .

vincent finds himself drawn to your lips , your eyes , your thighs . the first being how plush and soft they look . the look of them parted as you look up at him wanting a kiss . the way they glisten when your tongue darts out to wet them . how you push your bottom lip out when you pout . it’s hard for him to fight the desire to drag his thumb over those lips of yours only to see them go back into place before he leans in and tastes you for himself .

your eyes … so expressive . so easy to read . the emotion you hold in them , the want and need , even sadness and anger look beautiful when they dance in your eyes . he finds himself staring into them intently , seeing how your pupils dilate . there are many sketches of your face , of your eyes and those long lashes in his sketch book .

and your thighs .soft and supple . so delicate and perfect in his hands . soft and mailable . he wants to touch over him , to feel his body between them , to have his face buried and feel you squeeze down on him . you’ll find most of the unintentional bruises vincent leaves on your skin are on your thighs , inside or outside , it doesn’t matter . they are vincent’s most desired part of you .

C = Cum ( anything to do with cum, basically )

his cum is thin ( between stu and billy ) , and he cums a surprising amount ( between jason and brahms ) . while it’s easy to swallow , it is a bit bitter . he prefers to cum inside of you , mostly because he will be able to clean you up with his fingers , and seeing you drip satisfies a quiet possessiveness that he rarely shows . the only other place he enjoys cumming in is your mouth . though he isn’t fond of shoving down and choking you on his cock to cum down your throat . he’ll purposely pull back so only his tip is in your mouth , filling it and wanting to see it cupped by your tongue . he has no issue if you spit or swallow , so long as he can see it in your mouth for just a moment .

D = Dirty secret ( pretty self explanatory , a dirty secret of theirs )

vincent is a panty thief . though he often returns them , after they’ve been washed . he is very careful when he takes them and uses them . preferring to feel the fabric against his cock as he thinks of you . if he knows he has a project he’s about to dive into , or there’s a crop of new future wax figures in town , he will take what he needs to make it through those long nights alone . he prefers to steal the lace and silk , used or freshly laundered it doesn’t matter . he may be a panty thief , but he is not a panty sniffer .

E = Experience ( how experienced are they ? do they know what they’re doing ? )

vincent has actually had a few sexual encounters . no more than three . one was a drunken experience that started and ended in a bathroom stall at a bar that bo had brought him to . another was curiously as a teen with someone he can’t remember the name of from school . the other a more intense affair with a prostitute in new orleans , it’d been a strange night as all three of the brothers had … shared said person , not at the same time or in the same room , but over the course of one evening during mardi gras .

vincent has enough experiences to understand the in and outs . thought he discovered most of his own personal preferences on his own and with his own hand and imagination .

F = Favorite position ( this goes without saying )

as vanilla as it sounds , he prefers missionary . anything that gives him a clear view of your face and body as you writhe under him . he enjoys the sight of you , studying you with an intense want . though it’s not the only position he enjoys . having you in his lap is another favorite . the way you bounce up and down , leaning your head on his shoulder as you roll your hips and grow so weak and needy that you have to beg him to take hold of your hips and move you .

G = Goofy ( are they more serious in the moment ? are they humorous ? etc . )

vincent knows that sex can be silly and fun and cute and lighthearted . so he takes each lovemaking session with a grain of salt . while he wants it to be intimate and close and passionate , serious and intense . he will also smile softly if you make a loud strange noise , quirking a brow for a moment before soothing you with kisses , luring you back into the passionate mindset he craves . sex with vincent is likely to lean towards serious more often than not . only leaning towards light heartedness if you are both just smoked and are enjoying a shared high .

H = Hair ( how well groomed are they ? does the carpet match the drapes ? etc . )

unlike the silken , long , black locks on his head , his happy trail and pubic hair is coarse and kept trim and neat . he finds if he trims them too short they feel scratchy and rough , so he keeps them a bit longer than some might , just so that there is a nice softness and not just blunt coarse pubic stubble . scratch against his happy trail or pubes and you’ll find yourself with a suddenly passionate vincent ready to lay you down and have you every way he pleases .

I = Intimacy ( how are they during the moment ? the romantic aspect )

intense gazes , roaming hands , shared glances . the act is always intimate . without that intimacy he’d feel detached and dejected . he doesn’t want you to feel that way with him , and he certainly doesn’t want it either . if you leave vincent’s embrace not feeling as if you are wanted and desired and loved and needed , then vincent did a terrible job and will do everything in his power to rectify it . he wants you to know how much he craves you , and he’s very good at doing so .

J = Jack off ( masturbation headcanon )

jacking off is a quick fix for him . it brings temporary relaxation , a destressor when he is busy . before you , his hand was all he had , and he did it more so as a chore than anything . something he needed to do to force himself to relax . however after you arrived in ambrose it became a need . his want for you so powerful that he thought of a million different scenarios in which you found your way to his bed , or him to yours . after you became his lover however , it went back to being something he had to do because he was too wrapped up in his work to find you , or perhaps you were asleep and he didn’t wish to wake you just to satisfy his needs and leave . however he does jerk off less often , finding that allowing himself to get pent up during a project leads to a passionate and long session when he leaves his domain under the houze of wax .

K = Kink ( one or more of their kinks )

he is a voyeur . watching you intently as you undress , shower , or pleasure yourself . while he might have watched you through a cracked open door in secret before you two became official , now that you are lovers , he will at times simply sit and watch you pleasure yourself . his keen eye keeping track of every movement , ever stroke of your fingers , every twitch of your hips . it’s even common for him to have a sketchbook in hand , doing quick drawings of you to later turn into paintings .

vincent is also an exhibitionist . the thrill and power that comes with sex in semi public places is exciting . the way you both have to be hushed and hurried partly clothed as you desperately grasp at each other . it’s the fear of getting caught , and the fact that getting caught would cement in anyone’s mind exactly who you belonged to that has vincent , on rare occasion , taking you against the walls of the house of wax , in the open fields that surround ambrose , or even right outside of bo’s shop while he works . it’s a power trip that you won’t know he enjoys until you have him pressing you against lester’s truck while he’s out walking jonesy .

L = Location ( favorite places to do the do )

his bedroom . it’s a place for just the two of you . undisturbed by his brothers or the outside world . he’s taken you on the bed , in the comfy chair , against his desk . the dresser . he’s had you so many ways in his room , it’s the perfect place to feel you pressed against him .

he does also like having a roll with you on a blanket in the fields of ambrose . in nature . seeing your hair wild against the grass and small flowers , the smell of earth and how the sun or stars and moon illuminate you , it’s beautiful .

M = Motivation ( what turns them on, gets them going )

sometimes it’s just as simple as you turning to face him , half dressed and getting ready for bed , smiling and welcoming him home that has him itching to strip and make love . other times it’s the way you look at him , how your gaze up so shyly , a flush on your cheeks . it can be from you passing next to him , the scent of your shampoo triggering something in him that makes him want to take you . vincent may not seem like it , but he is very easily swayed into your arms .

N = No ( something they wouldn’t do , turn offs )

there is no impact play . no degradation from either end . no choking . these are turn offs . and as kind and even tempered as vincent can be , doing any of these things will have him removing himself from you and the situation entirely .

O = Oral ( preference in giving or receiving , skill , etc . )

he enjoys giving as much as he enjoys receiving , how ever he is more inclined to give as he enjoys the feeling of your thighs on either side of his head . you are , however , his first experience in giving oral . so he will start out cautious and slow , learning what makes you tremble and shake and moan and using that to his advantage . he is a quick learner . he doesn’t however spend time edging or teasing . when his mouth is on you he is going to work you to completion , not denying you as you cry out for him .

when it comes to receiving he is very open to it . like stated before , he enjoys it just as much as he enjoys giving . don’t expect him to fuck your mouth like a while animal . he will be slow and methodical , wanting the sensation to last . he’s more likely to want you to edge him , to rile him up for a bit . deny him his pleasure once or twice , and he will he in heaven when he finally cums . thought he will pull out till only the tip rests in your mouth while he does cum , seeing your mouth full of him makes him intensely satisfied .

P = Pace ( are they fast and rough ? slow and sensual ? etc . )

vincent can do both. more often than not he will go the slow and sensual route . he likes taking his time , working you both up , building the pleasure until it’s too much to bare . foreplay , during , and aftercare are all kept at the same pace .

the only times he will get fast and rough is when the two of you are clinging to each other in public . against the side of bo’s shop , against lester’s truck , in any room of the house of wax . if you two are anywhere you may get caught , vincent lets himself go and takes you in a assertive and dominant way that leaves you quaking .

Q = Quickie ( their opinions on quickies , how often , etc . )

he prefers actual sex instead of quickies , however if stress becomes too much , and there’s too much on his plate and he can only spare a few precious moments , he will take what he can get . he will leave you with a passionate kiss that tells you he will make it up to you at a later time . and you find yourself enjoying the intensity he shows you when he finds that time to make your little sessions last .

R = Risk ( are they game to experiment ? do they take risks ? etc . )

vincent will do nothing and try nothing that will cause you or himself pain . i would say he is not likely to experiment unless he has a good understanding of what it is that you want to try . and so long as it follows the rules he has in place for the bedroom .

S = Stamina ( how many rounds can they go for ? how long do they last ? )

he can last for two rounds before needing a break of fifteen to twenty minutes . however he will be more than happy to satisfy you with his fingers or mouth until his cock twitches back to life if you desire more than just two rounds during a session .

T = Toys ( do they own toys ? do they use them ? on a partner or themselves ? )

he does own some . he has a few fleshlights that he stopped using once his relationship with you started . before he had you they satisfied him more than just his hand . but after having you , they cannot compare . he also owns a few vibes that he enjoys using on himself and on you .

U = Unfair ( how much they like to tease )

he tries not to tease you much . in truth he much rather be teased than do the teasing . the most teasing he will do will involved making you ask for a kiss , or force you to lean up and steal on for yourself .

V = Volume ( how loud they are, what sounds they make , etc . )

raspy breathes , low moans , heavy panting , grunting . that’s what you get . he doesn’t get too loud , rather quiet in the act . but don’t ever feel as if you aren’t giving him pleasure . you are , he will show it to you in more physical ways than verbal .

W = Wild card ( a random headcanon for the character )

while vincent will agree to it , he is not a fan of being begged or bottoming . he finds it’s harder for him to cum when penetrated . but if it’s something that brings you pleasure he will allow you to do so , you’ll just have to work his cock with your hand , possibly having to pull out completely before he can finally cum .

X = X-ray ( let’s see what’s going on under those clothes )

while he is somewhat broad , he is also lithe . very toned . you aren’t going to find bulging muscles under his clothes . but you can still see the strength in his shoulder and back and arms . his chest toned but not defined . he has a flat stomach , tapered hips and strong legs and calves . follow the happy trail that down , eyeing the v of his hips and you’ll be greeted with a pretty flushed cock . he’s cut , head swollen and rosy , a darker shade than his shaft . he has a few thick veins around his base that curve around his cock . his cock hangs between his legs , even when hard , with a slight curve up . he’s long , 7″ in length and has a good girth . nothing that needs too much prep . he’s a nice snug fit .

Y = Yearning ( how high is their sex drive ? )

before he had a face and name to his want and lust , he didn’t yearn much . he craved , but he didn’t yearn . like stated earlier , his sex drive was low to average , only using his hand or fleshlights to get himself off in order to have a moment of relaxation or to just satisfy an urge like scratching an itch .

after you , he has seen a dramatic shift . while he can push it to the back of his mind while working , he yearns deeply for you . so much so that on the days he doesn’t go into his workspace , he will likely have you two to three times throughout the day . and each time is a session that can last between one to three rounds , depending .

Z = Zzz ( how quickly they fall asleep afterwards )

you will more than likely always fall asleep before vincent does . he’s observant . he likes to watch . he enjoys watching you fall to sleep . and he tends to want to keep watch over you , savoring the closeness of having you pressed against him . so trusting and all his .

#vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair imagine #vincent sinclair x reader #slasher #slashers #slasher imagine #slashers imagine #slasher x reader #slashers x reader

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kaistarus · 4 years ago

Text

The Key to Love is Timing

Pairings: Hinata X Reader

Words: 3.5K

Summary: If the first confession fails... Just bottle it up for a few years and hope for the best? Hinata messed up the first time, but he's not one for quitting.

Notes: This has lots of manga spoilies. I just love time-skip Hinata and he deserves more content 🥰

Masterlist // Ko-Fi

Karasuno high school loomed in front of you. The place that served as a sanctuary for so many years, helping you build lasting friendships and memories in classrooms that would soon be filled with new freshmen to take your place. It was bittersweet knowing your locker would soon belong to someone else, but you could only hope it would serve them as well as it had you.

Almost everyone had left the school grounds since it was nearing sundown, but you needed a while longer to say goodbye. You trailed your hand down the granite pillar that held the small canopied entrance. You were never good with goodbyes, and it would be hard to leave your friends behind. You’d made your plans to keep in touch and although you were the realistic type you still held had hope it could work out.

There was only one person you had avoided talking to...

“(Y/N)!”

You inhaled slowly before glancing over your shoulder at the boastful voice coming from across the courtyard. Hinata. You were hoping you’d run into him, whether you’d let yourself admit it or not. You noticed his sleeves were rolled up his forearms and that the schoolbag hung casually over his shoulder contained his uniform jacket-the sleeve hanging out loosely-as he pushed his bike toward you.

“Hey, yourself,” you tightened the grip on your own bag and languidly came to meet him at the front of the entrance. He was slightly out of breath when he reached out, taking large gulps of air to gather himself before speaking.

“I was hoping you would be here. I lost track of time and was worried I missed you.” He gave a crooked grin that made your heart skip.

“Well, I figured it would take you forever to say good-bye to Kageyama.”

He tilted his head in confusion before his face lit up. “You were waiting for me?”

Your eyes widened at your mistake. “No. I mean, I didn’t not want to see you, like, if we bumped into each other that would’ve been cool, but I wasn’t purposely trying to waste time...”

Smooth.

You found yourself unable to meet Hinata’s eyes until you heard a lighthearted laugh. His genuine smile was framed with unruly autumn hair that contrasted the cherry blossoms of spring that were flying through the air. You broke your Hinata induced trance when you realized he had swiped your bag from your grip.

“Um, excuse me?”

Instead of responding he took to placing your bag on the opposite handlebar from his own bag and pushing his bike ahead of you. You blinked, confused, before catching up to the boy.

“Since when do you carry bags?” You raised an eyebrow while gesturing to the bike. “Usually you whine about how it’s abuse I’m making you push your own bike.”

“I don’t know. I just feel like it,” he shrugged and turned away from you which only raised your suspicion that he was up to something. If he tried to steal your bag or pull some last day of school prank on you… you were so not in the mood.

“Wait, where are we going?” You realized you’d just been following the familiar backroad without thought. “Are you walking me home?”

“Yes.”

“Then why aren’t we going to the halfway point? My house is completely out of the way.” You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes at Hinata’s scrunched up face. “You’re acting really weird. Should I be concerned?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“Thanks. I’m thinking about doing it professionally.” You stuck your tongue out at his deadpan glare and ignored the grumbling that followed. You focused on the warmth in your chest as you teased him and not the lurking dread that dweld with every step closer to your house.

“When do you leave for University?” Hinata’s question made your stomach twist.

“April,” you shrugged. “I leave for Tokyo a few weeks before classes start.” The silence that followed was unbearable. “When… do you leave?”

“Two days.”

You nearly gave yourself whiplash with how quickly you turned to him. You had figured he would be leaving quickly, but you always envisioned a month or two at least. Your time had been wasted and you didn’t even realize.

“That’s…”

“Soon.” He finished. You nodded slowly. “I wanted to start training as soon as possible. I need to learn everything I can about beach volleyball so I can be the best player possible.”

“I’m so happy for you, Hinata.”

And you were. Even if the smile on your face felt a bit forced you knew that you truly meant those words. So you ignored the ache in your heart because it came from a selfish part of you that was scared to lose someone you cared too deeply for. Someone who had the courage to chase their passions to new continents. You shoved down the pain and focused on your admiration at his continuous drive for self-discovery and improvement.

There was no time to pity yourself.

“We’ve both got adventures ahead of us,” Hinata said with an ear to ear grin on his face. You could only nod in agreement because Tokyo was nothing like Brazil, but you had your own sense of self-discovery you supposed. Slowly, Hinata’s face dropped into something more weary and his eyes drifted to his feet. “But…”

“But?”

“It’ll be weird not seeing you all the time,” he started, lifting his head to the sky. You followed his gaze, but found nothing of interest beside the cloudless sky slowly fading to peach hues as the sun set. “I mean, you won’t be coming to my games or bullying me at school.”

“I don’t bully you.” You deadpanned.

He waved you off. “You won’t be able to come over and help me teach Natsu volleyball when she complains I’m not a good enough teacher either.”

“Well, not everyone understands your ‘wam’ and ‘zoom’ into a ‘fwump’!” You said while moving your arms into random receives and spikes to match the sounds.

“Nishinoya did,” he narrowed his eyes. “Whatever, the point is you’ll be gone and… I’m going to miss you.” He glanced over quickly. “More than the average person.”

“I’ll miss you too.” You nudged his shoulder. “Lighten up. You’re acting so weird today.”

“I’m not acting weird…”

“You are!” A gust of wind sent cherry blossoms floating toward you from the trees that perched along your path. You held out your hand and let a few settle into your palm before smirking at the boy beside you. “Cherry blossoms, carrying my bag, talking all mushy. If you were anyone else I’d think this was some poor attempt at a love confession.”

Hinata stumbled over his steps before pausing all together and you furrowed your brow at him before realization struck you. His face had blossomed red in a furious blush and his eyes were set on you determinedly in a way that had your heart racing.

Your mouth went dry. “Hinata-”

“I’m not good with words.” He took a shuddering breath and his fists clenched. “Going to Brazil is my dream, but when I think about you not being there I kinda feel like I’m gonna throw up or something. And when I’m not thinking about volleyball I’m usually thinking about when I get to see you next so…” He glanced up at you more confidently and you started to panic. You’d wanted this for so long but… “I don’t know a lot of things, but I know that I love volleyball. So, it would only make sense that I also lo-”

“Stop.” You put your hand up between you both. “You can’t…”

“What are you talking about?” He tilted his head confused. “I’m pretty sure I can. I mean I’ve been debating it for at least a year now so-”

“A year?” Your eyes widen before you shake it off. “Nevermind, I meant not now. Not when you’re about to leave and I’m about to start university and…” You clench the material of your pleated skirt. “It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”

He furrowed his brow at you and his eyes scanned your face. “How wouldn’t it be fair?”

You took a few shaky breaths to calm yourself and to hold back the unshed tears that burn in the back of your eyes. “I don’t want to be a burden to your training in-”

“You would never be a-”

“But it’d feel that way.”

His tongue stuck out the side of his mouth while he was deep in thought. You always found that a cute quirk, but now you were just desperate to know what possibly was going on in his head. He scratched the back of his head and glanced toward the sky once again, but like before you saw nothing of interest there.

“Okay,” he said, meeting your eyes once more. “Next time then.”

You blinked. “Next… time?”

He gave you a crooked grin. “Yep, it’s not like I’ll be gone forever.”

It seemed like such a silly thing to cry over such a naive promise, like he would actually still have feelings for you when or if he ever decided to come back to Japan. The realistic part of you knew it was a childish fantasy, but let him believe his bold words like you knew only Hinata could. However, the hopeful part of you, the one that leaked tears the moment Hinata’s smiling face was out of view, clung to the idea of his dramatic return and your tragic love story.

But days turned to months, and months turned to years, and you were no longer a child. You had come to terms that the world wasn't made for fairy tale endings.

~*~*~*~

Nearly four years had passed since that day and for the most part you had moved on from it. You take a deep breath before flashing your laminated badge to the security guard that would allow you to enter the massive gymnasium. No matter how many times you come to these venues it still gives you a thrill being around the chaotic environment. The crowd’s chants, scuffling of athletes shoes, coaches encouraging shouts and rushed commands all created a cacophony unmatched by anything you’d ever heard. It was a no brainer that you were addicted to the atmosphere, eventually building yourself a career that allowed you to become a part of it all.

You had plenty of time before the match started to conduct the interview you’d been assigned for that day. You glanced at the scoreboard and a nervous ball hit the pit of your stomach at seeing MSBY Black Jackals vs Schweiden Adlers. You attributed it to the number of people in the audience, rather than the person you’d been lucky enough to be assigned to interview.

Nope. This definitely had nothing to do with Hinata Shoyo.

As you unnecessarily prepared your notes, pen, and recorder for the fifteenth time since you’d arrived at the arena you glanced into the audience. Your eyes landed on Yamaguchi and Yachi waving wildly to you from the stands and you waved back, taking note of the empty seat Yachi was pointing to beside her. Looks like you’d be staying for the match after all.

You stretched your arms above your head and let out a sigh, adjusting your blazer before glancing over your shoulder to where MSBY had now filtered onto the sidelines. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the tufts of orange hair bouncing between the team and you hadn’t even noticed your soft smile until Bokuto was pointing in your direction. Hinata’s head whipped toward you and you felt yourself freeze. If you were back in high school you’d probably describe this moment of staring into his amber eyes as magical in some way, but you just felt embarrassed you couldn’t remain composed while on the job.

He sends you a crooked grin and with a light shove from Atsumu he’s jogging over in your direction. You take a deep breath to center yourself before he’s way too close in your personal bubble.

“Hey.” He smirked at you. It was a familiar look, but he carried it differently. He radiated a newfound confidence that he didn’t have last time you’d seen him. Had he also gotten taller?

“Hi.” You breathed out. Internally cursing yourself for allowing him to have such an effect on you after so many years.

“You, uh, look really nice” He said, amber eyes bright and genuine. They were still so open, like shameless windows to his every emotion. At least that hadn’t changed.

“You look pretty good too.” You said quickly switching your focus to your notes. “How’s being back?”

“Trying to give me a pre-interview?” He smirked, raising a teasing eyebrow. “Don’t think I agreed to that one.”

“Just trying to get a better feel for the client,” you shrugged. “Not required, I suppose.”

“Client?” He pouted.

“This is a paid interaction.”

“Well, let’s keep it PG cause I’m really only good at volleyball for now,” he smirked, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Your face dusted light pink at the suggestion. Yeah, he’d definitely matured over the last four years.

“Here’s the questions I’ll be asking,” you decided to ignore him, along with the cute pout he gave at being ignored, and get straight to business. “I’m going to be recording our conversation for my writing, so don’t worry about stumbling or speed or anything. Just relax and take your time.” Hinata’s eyes were soft when you looked back up to make sure he was paying attention. “What?”

“You’re just so cool.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek to calm your nerves. “It’s not that special. I’m just doing my job.”

“But you’re so good at it. You look badass.”

You shrugged. “I’m going to start the recording now,” you said and the moment he nodded in acknowledgement you pressed record. “Hinata Shoyo. MSBY player 21.” You said, marking the interview for yourself to which he just raised an eyebrow. “So, this is your first interview, right?”

“I had small ones in Brazil, but this is my first one as a professional player in Japan.” He smiled widely. “I made sure you were the first interview I had.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I got a few offers, but they didn’t matter to me if it wasn’t you doing them.”

You blinked at the confession, and found yourself lagging as you looked for the next question. “Um-okay, well, this is your first professional game this season on the starting line-up. What made you choose MSBY?”

“They were the best team at the time having try-outs!” Hinata crossed his arms and nodded. “I have to beat Kageyama after all.”

“It had nothing to do with Bokuto?” You tilted your head. You honestly thought he picked based on friendship.

“Nope, but that was an awesome coincidence!” He leaned closer to you and you looked around awkwardly. “So, what made you choose to be a sports journalist for volleyball? Anyone important in your life?”

Your heart began beating rapidly in your chest and you pushed Hinata’s face back with your notepad. “I’m sorry. I thought I was conducting the interview.”

“Well, as the client I feel I would be most comfortable answering my questions in a back-and-forth style.” He smiled innocently and you deadpanned. “Also, this is my first time, remember? I’m still learning.”

You rolled your eyes before deciding to just humor him. “I knew a kid in high school. Pretty obsessed with volleyball, so I spent a lot of time around it.”

“He sounds pretty awesome.”

“Yeah, it really depends on the day.” You said, making Hinata pout and grumble under his breath. “So, you went to Brazil for your career. How was it different there?”

“Beach volleyball is so different. It's an entirely new game compared to here. Less hands, more feet. There’s the wind and then the sand. It was really hard getting used to.”

“Will you be using some of that technique tonight?” You asked.

“On the court or...?” He smirked slyly with mirth dancing in his eyes. You glared at him and he sighed. “I mean, yeah. You’re staying for the game, right?”

“Um--I...yeah.” You answered awkwardly, looking between Hinata and the notes. He raised an eyebrow at your weird response.

“Are you dating someone?” He asked bluntly.

“What?” Your ears shot to your shoulders at his question, but he just looked at you calmly. “I-What does that-Why?”

“Cause you’re acting weird.”

You furrowed your brow and glared at the courts flooring beneath you. ““How do you think Brazil has impacted your playstyle?”

“You’re avoiding my question,” he said as you continued to avoid the question. He let out a groan before continuing. “You’ll definitely see it through my receives and blocking. I think it’ll really surprise people in my first match back.” Hinata answered smoothly. “So, are you single or…?”

You raised a brow. “Does it matter?”

“Duh,” he scoffed, dragging a hand down his face.

You sighed dramatically. “No, I’m not dating someone currently.”

“Currently!?”

“Oh my god, we’re like 22. Yes, I dated someone for a while just...” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “I heard you were called Ninja Shoyo in Brazil. Do you know where that came from?”

“I don’t know, probably because I’m Japanese.” He waved it off and you furrowed your brow grumpily at his lazy response.

“Hinata you have to at least try to-”

“Do you still love me?”

You choke on your breath and nearly let the recorder slide out of your hands, but Hinata manages to grab it with quick reflexes. He holds it between you, tilting his head with an inquisitive stare.

“I don’t know what you-”

“Because I still love you.” He declared, refusing to break eye-contact as he finally confessed what he’d held on to for so long. “Have for over four years. I kept waiting for the right time, and I’m finally back now for good so… I feel like this is it.”

You stood there in disbelief and tightened your grip around your notebook in an attempt to ground yourself. This was not part of your plan. You had given up on this long ago. “There’s no way you still-”

“It never faded. There were a few times I wished it would,” he looked away almost shamefully. “Only when it hurt a lot, like, when I felt really alone. But even when I tried I just couldn’t. I’d read your articles and everything would come back, ya know?”

You nodded slowly. You remember how it felt when Yachi sent you the article about ‘Ninja Shoyo’. The way your heart had leapt just from seeing his picture. You had stayed up the entire night rereading the poorly translated article and telling yourself you just missed an old friend, nothing more.

You dumping your boyfriend a week later had absolutely nothing to do with it…

“It’s complicated.” You settled on. There were too many factors now.

“Then we can figure it out,” his wide smile nearly sent a thrum through your heart you’d been unknowingly yearning for. “No need to overthink. We have plenty of time.”

Your heart swelled at the words and their implications. “I guess… there is.”

“You said you’re staying for the game?” He asked, which you confirmed with a nod. “Awesome. We can eat and catch up or something.” His eyes widened as he waved his hands between you. “Doesn’t need to be a date. We can just hang out like old times.”

“But what if... I want to call it a date?” You asked nearly above a whisper, twisting the ball of your foot into the ground.

Hinata paused before breaking out into a crooked smile. “Then I’d be fucking thrilled, but no pressure. Okay?”

A whistle sounded and you both turned to see the MSBY’s coach waving to Hinata as the rest of his team took the court for warm-ups. You frowned at the sheet in your hands. “We barely made through the questions…”

“There’s tons of material on here,” Hinata winked as he pressed your recorder into your palm. “You can interrogate me with whatever after the game too.”

You smiled affectionately at him as another warning whistle came from his coach. He apologized to you quickly before running off toward the court. Your cheeks warmed when Bokuto ruffled Hinata’s hair and Atsumu gave a few suggestive looks in your direction while whispering in Hinata’s ear. But when he gave Atsumu a shove, his face a flaming red, you knew you hadn’t been kidding anyone.

The lights dimmed in the arena and you made your way to where Yachi had been seated in the stands. You kept glancing toward the sunshine boy who managed to light up your life the second he returned. Someone with that strong of a magnitude couldn’t help but attract everyone around him.

As he bounced around the court, laughing boastfully with Bokuto, the only thought in your head was that it should have been obvious. Of course you had never stopped loving him.

How could anyone stop loving someone like him.

#haikyū!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hinata #shoyo hinata #hinata shouyou #hinata shoyo #hinata x reader #love hiimmmmm #this got so long #i don't even know #more self indulgence #manga spoilers #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shouyo x reader

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emilyplaysotome · 4 years ago

Text

Queen’s Choice: Part 3

This is the third chapter to a multi-part smutty fic with the MLQC boys. If you haven’t read it, here’s part 1 and part 2.

I sit in a coffee shop trying to read while I wait for him, but can’t manage to concentrate. I’m nervous and excited to finally see him, but also angry and frustrated with how he always manages to keep me at arm’s length.

When we’re together he jokes about being my boyfriend, has supposedly made his phone’s home screen a picture of us, and pretends to be jealous whenever one of the guys texts and we’re together.

What started as a lie, I think, turned into something real and at this point it’s fair to say that I’ve now seen all sides of him - the good and the not so good.

I’ve told him that I don’t believe he’s “bad” because even when he is, there’s still a gentleness in the way he interacts with me and a tenderness in his touch. I’ve asked him not to pull away from me, time and time again, but how often do I write only to have emptiness stretch out in response?

He returns on his time and it both aggravates and excited me.

Perhaps it was kismet that he wrote when he did, and lord knows I jumped on the opportunity to line this up.

With him, I might only get one chance before he disappears.

Maybe only one before Ares becomes more important than Lucien.

I’ve wondered if we’re star crossed lovers, trapped on opposite sides of an incoming war, or perhaps he’s just not that into me.

Maybe this is all a game to him.

These are the thoughts that plague me as I sit with my book, pretending to read so he won’t think I’m thinking about him incessantly, waiting for his arrival.

Even though I am.

—

He arrives a few minutes late but mostly on time, approaching me from behind and giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze before taking a seat across from me. That’s when I *really* register that he’s actually here in front of me.

“How long has it been?” he asks, full well knowing.

“Two months and fifteen days,” I say. “Not that I’ve been counting...”

“Of course not. I didn’t miss you at all.”

“Me neither.”

I can’t tell what the tension is exactly but it’s there and it’s palpable. The waitress interrupts us to take his order and I take a breath, steadying myself to find out what this is instead of continuing to dance around it.

I love the way he moves, how his slender fingers gently handle every thing he touches from a stupid drink menu to me. I feel pulled to him but I also know that the attraction is impossible.

We could never really be together...

...right?

He turns to me when he’s finished ordering his americano and his eyes twinkle with what I interpret as affection.

“So what has my silly girl been up to while she’s been away from me?” He asks and I feel the nervousness bubble up.

I’m about to change everything and I’m scared I’ll miss him too much if I do this. I’m scared the pain will be unbearable if he leaves my life for good, all the while knowing that I can’t not escalate things.

“Thinking.”

“About what?”

“About you.”

“But I thought you didn’t miss me?”

I pause for a moment and then ask what I’ve been wanting to ask but have been too afraid to get an answer to.

“Why didn’t you write? Why did you pull away?”

He shrugs and sighs.

“Because...it was for the best.”

“So what changed?”

He meets my gaze again with that gentleness in his eyes and says, “Because I’m more selfish than I ever thought.”

“Selfish? But -“

The waitress interrupts us with his drink and my mind races trying to understand how he sees his selfishness. I see it every time he disappears without asking and makes decisions about whatever we are by himself.

“I’m sorry,” he says unprompted and I balk. “I know you can’t trust me but I want you to care for me at least.”

“I already do. You’re selfish for not wanting me to trust you, you know.”

“I can’t...”

“Yeah I know.”

I sigh. I’m just as much a fool. We shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here.

But the pull is just too strong.

And it’s now or never.

“I get to be selfish today then,” I say firmly and my tone isn’t lost on him. He raises an eyebrow, unable to reply mid sip to my retort.

“And what does that mean?”

—

20 minutes later we are back at my place. All the subtext and flirtation and indirectness is gone and replaced with a desire to lose ourselves for the day. That’s the deal we made. There’s no talking about how this could work or what the future is like, there’s just today.

The door begins to shut and he uses my body to close it - pinning my arms above my head as he kisses me, really kisses me, for what feels like the first time. There’s no light grazing of lips or pecks on the cheek and warmth that lingers. Instead his mouth is pressed into mine, his tongue pushing into my mouth, and my soft moans the only sounds in the room. It’s not rough, but it is firm and purposeful and I feel incredibly wanted in a way I’ve always questioned if he wanted me.

We don’t speak.

Eventually my hands are released because he wants to touch me and I want to touch him. We don’t separate, we stumble over each other, still kissing and make our down my short hallway, past my couch, and onto my bed. I’m running my hands through his hair and over his arms and finally down to undo his belt.

He’s done the same with me, taking his hands away from cupping the back of my head to unbuttoning my blouse and pulling down my bra to reveal my breasts. He breaks away from my mouth to suck on my neck and then my chest as his hands run under my skirt and up between my legs.

I moan because it feels so good and because I’ve wanted this for so long.

“Lucien please,” I beg at his teasing and he smiles at me.

“I don’t want to rush anything.”

“I get to be selfish, remember?”

He stares at me the way he did these past few years, despite being half naked and begging him to take me. Those slender fingers I find so elegant slide my underwear off before sliding into me.

It feels so good but it’s not what I want and he knows it. With his other hand he’s touching what I want, underneath his underwear and I feel impatient and desperate for him.

“You’re not playing fair!” I complain but he smiles at me.

“You seem to quite like what I’m doing...”

I can’t deny that I do. But it’s not enough.

“Please Lucien.”

I hear myself begging but I can’t stop myself.

“Please.”

He’s gentle when he climbs on top and enters me. I’m surprised if I’m being honest. I thought he’d want to tie me up or do all sorts of adventurous things to me. But instead he takes me gently and I find myself wrapping my arms around him.

My blouse is still on and my skirt pushed up and there’s something about the fact that we aren’t fully naked that turns me on.

It’s as if this was all so rushed that we couldn’t be bothered to shed our clothes and I feel a mix of his skin and fabric brushing against me. His movements and breath accelerate before he slows everything down, bringing me close to the edge and then teasing a full stop.

I didn’t expect to continue begging him once I’d gotten what I thought I wanted, but I am.

“Lucien, please!” I say again and I can feel him smiling even though I can’t see his face which is nestled in the crook of my neck.

He pushes himself up so he can look down at me.

“If you tell me you love me.”

He’s moving exactly how I want him to and he knows it. He supports his weight on one of his hands and the other creeps up my front and plays with my breast as he whispers, “Just for today...Say you love me just for today...”

“I love you just for today.”

“Silly girl.”

I can tell he’s disappointed by my answer, but he doesn’t hold back from there. My “Please Lucien” is replaced by cries of “Yes” until we both collapse, sweaty and tired but satisfied. I miss his warmth the moment he pulls out but am surprised by how he fixes my bra and shirt before pulling me into his arms.

We’re there for a moment and just as I’m about to ask about the “love” request he kisses my cheek and says, “I’ll make us some decaf.”

He doesn’t bother fixing himself as he normally would, and brings the coffee to me in bed with his shirt in a state of disarray and his pants unbuttoned but on.

“Thanks,” I say taking it from him, wondering if he’s going to disappear after today or if this meant something to him.

I’m realizing it meant something to me.

There’s a silence that stretches out as we sip our coffee, and I try to remember when was the last time he made it for me. He’d showed me how when he still lived next door but somehow I can never quite make it like he does.

His voice interrupts my thoughts and he says, “I get jealous, you know.”

He says it in a way that I realize he’s been thinking about this for some time and that the statement is sincere. When I cock my head in confusion he pulls something up to show me.

I think I understand what he’s saying and feel myself blush.

“You don’t play fair, you know? How do I see that and approach you?”

“That wasn’t about you! Anna had...”

He cuts me off, shaking his head.

“I want you to love just me, and I understand that you don’t. That you can’t. That I don’t let you.”

“Oh.”

The room falls silent for a moment and he breaks it by saying quietly, “That’s why I want you to love me. To say it. Even if it was just for today.”

“I...”

“But you love them too?”

I freeze for a moment, but I think about how much I hate the fact that one day I will have to pick just one. It feels like a knife through my heart thinking that they won’t be in my life and yet there’s no other way.

“It’s confusing,” I finally get out and to my surprise he gently pats my head.

“For me too. It wasn’t supposed to go like this.”

It’s evening now and the sky has grown dark and cloudy. There’s a clap of thunder in the distance and I hear the pitter patter of rain on my window.

“I don’t want you to go,” I finally say.

“I can’t stay.”

“What if you could?”

We both want him to, I know it. He knows it.

He shakes his head anyway.

“It was just for today.”

When he leaves I watch him exit from my apartment and I can’t help but feel sad. The other encounters left me feeling empowered and satisfied, and yet this one has me feeling heartbroken.

I wonder if he feels the same and if I’ll see him again.

I wonder if he’d even let me pick him as the one.

The thought of losing him ignites something within me and before I know it I’m running after him. I catch up to him and throw my whole self onto him, stopping him before he can get to the sidewalk.

He lets out a shocked gasp, and turns to look back at me.

“I love you,” I say, meaning it. “I love you and not just for today.”

“I love you too,” he says and pulls me into his arms. “More than you know.”

We stand there for an awkward length of time in each other’s arms before he finally says, “But I know that you love them too.”

“How can I know if I love you most if you keep leaving?”

The question surprises him. I see his expression turn serious and he nods.

“But you still won’t be able to trust me.”

“I...”

I start to say something but my phone rings. Victor is calling me. I look down at the screen and when I look back up, Lucien is gone.

Vanished.

Disappeared.

It’s just as well. I don’t have the answers yet. I won’t until I finish what I started.

And so, I answer the call and head back inside.

Part 4

I hope you liked the third chapter of my steamy fic. As I’ve said before this is very out of my comfort zone! If you liked this, please comment, share, and like! I love seeing that :)

As always, if you’ve enjoyed the story, please show your support by sharing it with a friend, liking it, or buying me a coffee!

tagging @ho-lee-snow-balls @hifftn @redheadkitty11 @superllamaathleteshoe @mamafishfound @zoetjessweets

Just lmk if you don’t want to be tagged and I’ll take you off.

#mr love kiro #mr love lucien #mr love victor #mr love gavin #mr love queen's choice #mr love queen's choice fan #mr love queens choice fanfic #mlqc #mlqc fanfic #mlqc fic #mlqc kiro #mlqc gavin #mlqc lucien #mlqc victor

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago

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(@whimpers-and-whumpers) concept: Chris in college. He has to do a certain number of gen ed credits to get his degree. He ends up in a mythology class. Chris has a breakdown when the class discussion turns to Baldur, Norse god of light and purity.

CW: Referenced past pet whump, traumatic memories, vaaaaague suggestions about past noncon, past whump of a minor, brief internalized ableism, warning for past Oliver being a fucking creep

“Well, this one just has a stupid name,” Ben says, squinting at his mythology textbook, tapping at a page.

“What, what is it?” Chris and Ben are ‘studying’ together, which today mostly means Ben is studying and Chris is thinking about Laken’s arms when they wear a tank top.

Ben is on is stomach on his bed, book open in front of him, while Chris lays on his back on the surprisingly plush shaggy rug that Ben bought at Target three weeks ago. Chris could sleep on this thing if he wanted, it’s so comfortable. Not that Chris can’t sleep pretty much anywhere.

Chris closes his eyes, thinking about Laken’s smile, with their slightly crooked incisor tooth on the one side, when Ben says, “Baldur.”

Chris’s eyes open back up.

Baldur, darlin’. His Sir is calling him, hand on his head, waking him from his doze hidden under his desk, curled into a ball in the safe, dark space. Baldur, wake up, sweetheart, were you dreaming again?

“Why would you name a god Bald-er? Like, celebrate not having hair, I guess. What a stupid name.”

Nicky’s voice, wrinkling his nose, saying I’m not going to call you that when he heard.

“That’s not, um, not what it, it, it means,” Chris says. Ben doesn’t use the overhead light when Chris is in his room - it buzzes in a way that gets under Chris’s skin. Instead, he uses warm yellowy lamps, and opens the curtains over the window to let outside light in.

“Oh, you know this?” Ben looks up, and Chris’s face is carefully schooled emptiness, as much as it can be. Ben doesn’t know what to look for, so he doesn’t see it, and that’s what matters.

“Yep,” Chris says, shifting uneasily. Laying on his back suddenly feels wrong and also entirely right, exactly how he’s meant to be. He catches himself and pushes up to seated, looking out Ben’s window, focusing on the blue sky, slivers of white clouds, the gentle rattle of wind against the window when it gusts.

He reminds himself that he can go out there whenever he wants.

“Well... tell me something about him that’s more interesting than this stupid paragraph.” Ben taps the page again.

Sir, can, can, can you-... can you, can-

Words, Baldur. Do you need to practice with the metronome again?

No! No... no thank you... Sir. I, I can... can you... tell me about... the mistletoe, again?

Much better. Of course I can, darlin’. Come kneel here next to me.

“Baldur is, um, is, is... Old Norse it means, um, ‘brave’.” Chris sighs, fiddling with the seam of his pants, shifting his hands up to rub at a rough spot on his knee, then up to the feather necklace he’s always wearing, rubbing at the textured, carved plastic carefully. “Or, you know, in, um, in... sometimes they, they think, it’s the same as, as... same root as Belobog-”

“The same what as what now?”

“Um, Belobog is, um, is, is, is... is is is, is a, a day... a god of day. Slavic. Um. But, but so, so there’s this idea that maybe Baldur meant, um, Baltas, or, um, an older word like it, because Baldur was, was... beautiful.”

“Beautiful?” Ben watches him with interest, but Chris doesn’t look at him. His Sir’s voice is in his ear, a hand tipping up his chin. Somewhere his Sir is... is still there, not in the big mansion with the hallway anymore, but... he’s somewhere. And Chris can feel him.

“Yeah,” Chris says, almost breathes. “Baldur was, was, was, was... was the most beautiful god.” He feels every line of his face, that his Sir once traced with his fingertips. He’s pretty. He knows he’s pretty. Too beautiful to be for anything else, sweetheart.

“Wow. So, what else do you know about him?”

It starts like this, darlin’. Baldur had a dream...

“Baldur... had a dream,” Chris says, and his voice shifts, slows down. He goes still where he sits on the rug, staring outside at the sky through Ben’s window. He sits perfectly still, breathing in a slow, even in-and-out, as if guided by the ticking of the metronome all over again. “He dreamed... about dying. And his mother did, too. His mother... dreamed his, his death. Just, just like he did.”

Ben’s face is serious and thoughtful, watching as Chris’s thumb stops rubbing at the feather necklace, and it drops back to thump against his chest.

“He was... sad, because the gods... the, the, the gods-... sorry, wrong, um, bad words, I just-... the gods...”

The gods dream in prophecy, Baldur, pretty thing. Never forget. Gods dream futures.

Yes, yes, yes, Sir.

And I dreamed your future, so what does that make me, sweetheart?

Did Sir ever dream this?

“The gods dream in prophecy,” Chris says, echoing his Sir’s voice in his head. “Frigg was, was, was scared.”

“Wait, that’s-” Ben turned pages in his notebook. “You mean Freya?”

“Frigga, Frija, Frigg,” Chris mumbles. The sky outside the window seems so far away, now.

“She, um, she went around and asked... asked, um, everything on Earth to, to... to promise they would never, never hurt Baldur. And... everything did, except... mistletoe.”

“Mistletoe? Like, the shit you kiss under at New Year’s?”

“Right. Everything but, but mistletoe.” He pulls his knees tight to his chest and sits like that, feeling Sir’s hand drift over the back of his neck, two fingers crook underneath soft leather of a collar Chris no longer wears. “It was... small, and a soft, soft thing, unimportant. When... when Loki-”

“Oh, I know who he is,” Ben says confidently, smiling now - but there’s a hint of something like worry in his eyes as he takes in Chris sitting perfectly still, like he’s carved from stone.

“When, when Loki heard... he had a, a, a spear made of mistletoe. Loki didn’t, didn’t want to get in trouble for murder, so, um... so, so, so so so he gave the spear to, to, to Baldur’s brother, who was blind. Everyone threw things, at, at Baldur, and it bounced off, and Baldur’s smile was... was like the sun. Everyone loved him.”

Who could ever love you, pretty pet, but me?

“Baldur’s brother threw the, the spear. And killed him.”

Ben blinks, shifts forward. “He did? Holy shit.”

“Um, yes. Because, because the mistletoe-”

“Right. Because the mistletoe never promised not to hurt-... wow, that’s dark shit. Loki did that on purpose?”

“Yeah, he, um, he’s Loki. So. But, so, so, so... so this person, Baldur’s own family, um... killed him.”

“Yeah... shit. What happened after that?”

Chris rubs at the back of his neck, and feels the warmth of his Sir’s palm press over his hand, feels his mouth press a kiss to Chris’s coppery hair-

No, his hair is blue now. He did it himself. His hair is blue.

“Baldur,” He whispers, “went, went, went to, to, to... to... to hell-... I mean, um, to, to Hel, the goddess of the underworld. She, she, she saw his beauty and-... kept him. Be, beside her. And... and he couldn’t, couldn’t escape it, and come back, unless everything on earth cried for, for, for, for... for his loss. But one giant refused. So...” He trails off. “That’s, um, that’s... there’s more, but... yeah.”

“Wow.”

Chris swallows.

Well done, darlin’. You’ve never forgotten a single thing you learned for me...

“How do you know all this shit about fucking Norse gods, Chris?” Ben taps his pen on his paper, looking at his own sharp, angular handwriting, the notes he’s been taking all along.

Unlike Chris’s notebooks, covered in loopy scrawling writing and with the margins full of doodles of shapes and little drawings of animals, Ben’s margins are as neat and empty as they can be.

Chris usually feels like what his hand draws, a constant movement, a constant shift, filling his life in with his motion. Right now, though, he feels like Ben’s margins, empty open space. Paint over what was there before, and nothing’s left but the blank spots.

Chris shrugs. He pretends he doesn’t feel the soft weight of his Sir’s hand, resting just over the back of his neck, the brush of his lips over Chris’s earlobe, the whisper of his voice sending a shiver down his spine.

Beautiful boy. Would you like to hear about how Odin got his eight-legged horse today, darlin’?

Yes, yes... yes, Sir. Tell... tell me, tell, but can I... after can you tell me about, about Baldur again?

Silly boy. Of course I can. Lay down on your back for me.

“I, I knew someone,” Chris says, his heart skipping a beat. He can almost feel himself leaning back into a phantom hand through his hair, ready to lay down on navy silk sheets, like none of the good things ever happened.

Like he’s still a beautiful boy, living in hell.

He breathes in, and then out. Tries to replace the feeling of Sir’s arms around him with the daydream he’s been having about Laken’s arms instead.

“I knew someone who, um... who liked the, the stories about Baldur. A, a long time ago.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. A, um... a kid.”

“Like, a brother? I thought you just had your adopted brothers.”

“Um, no, not, not, not... not my brother.” Chris grips onto his feather necklace, again. He can almost feel the warmth of Laken’s skin when they accidentally bump against him in line to get dinner at the dining hall. “Not my brother. Just... just, um, a kid... who was kind of like me.”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary - @whimpers-and-whumpers

(Nicky - briefly referenced here - is @orchidscript’s OC Henry)

#whump #recovering whumpee #trauma recovery #chris the strawberry blond romantic #traumatic memories #oliver branch is gross #past noncon reference #past pet whump #trauma recovery whump #flashbacks tw #ptsd tw

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cheri-translates · 5 years ago

Text

[CN] Lucien’s Mirror Painting Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Kiss Dates Collection: Gavin // Kiro // Victor

The date begins with MC feeling down because she can’t find inspiration for an “Amateur Painting Exhibition” she agreed to participate in.

The uniqueness of this exhibition lies in how it does not require professionalism. The main purpose is to exhibit differing definitions of dreams held by different people.

Since there’s no requirement to be a professional, I agreed to participate without hesitation. However, even after a few days, I don’t have a single idea...

Lucien: Silly, we still have time, so there’s no hurry to think.

MC: Do you have any ideas then?

While I speak, light silently trickles into the living room, illuminating the room in an instant. A faint ray of light shines around Lucien’s eyes, and he involuntarily averts his eyes. Seeing that it was the makeup mirror which reflected the light, I hurriedly turn the mirror face-down on the table.

In a moment, bits of ideas bubble within my heart.

MC: Lucien, I think I have some inspiration, but I’m not sure if it’d work...

Lucien: I’m guessing that you want to use the refraction from the mirror to shine light onto the canvas?

I look at Lucien in shock. Looks like we both thought about this “opportunistic method” at the same time.

MC: Mm, but this is only to add a bit of colour. The more important part depends on Professor Lucien.

While speaking, I tap my head with a hand.

Lucien: Have you forgotten that the manager specially pointed out that the artwork must be created by two people?

MC: My art skills are at the level of an elementary school student. I’m afraid the “dream” would be extinguished.

Lucien: Everything has an area where it can come in handy. Perhaps your stroke could be the finishing touch which brings the art to life.

MC starts getting pumped up and asks where they should start.

Lucien: I know a place which will have something we want.

They walk through several quiet alleys and end up outside a shop.

The unique design of the shop sign, which is a mirror, gives me a sense of anticipation.

MC: This is the place?

Lucien nods with feigned secrecy. I push the door open curiously, and let out a laugh when I look at the scene before me.

In the middle of the shop rests a distorting mirror.

In the mirror, Lucien’s head is magnified several times, and the subtle changes in his expression are made more prominent.

Perhaps due to our height differences, my head is not as magnified, but has become square-shaped.

While I originally wanted to tease Lucien, I quickly become embarrassed.

MC: This is… really ugly.

Lucien: I think it’s quite adorable.

Hearing these untruths, I narrow my eyes at him.

MC: Then tell me how this is adorable!

Lucien retracts his smile and stares at the mirror in deep thought, attempting to find “evidence” that the square-shaped “me” is adorable.

Lucien: Eyes, nose, mouth…

Even before he finishes speaking, he lets out a light chuckle. I catch the playful glint in his eyes.

MC: Hmph. Look at you, looking so rounded.

Shop manager: Sorry to interrupt. Is there anything I can do for you two?

MC: We’re here to buy a mirror. Could I trouble you to recommend us…

MC details what exactly she’s looking for, and the shop manager shows her mirrors to choose from. After she’s done with her purchase, Lucien asks the manager for defective mirrors.

MC: Why do you need defective mirrors?

Lucien: Mirrors that are not smooth can diffuse reflection. This way, the mirror will scatter light at different angles.

Lucien explains gently. Although I’m not clear about the principles behind it, it sounds like a good idea.

MC realizes that the painting seems more like an Installation art and requires a lot of items to make possible. She starts worrying about how to transport the art to the exhibition. Lucien has an idea – to work on the artwork directly at the exhibition venue.

They head to the Oil Painting Museum to ask the manager for permission to do so.

Just as the manager struggles to find the words to reject their request, Lucien tells him something. With that, the manager agrees and brings them in.

I tug on Lucien’s sleeve gently and ask in a quiet voice.

MC: What did you say to the manager?

Lucien: I told him that today is our anniversary, so I asked him to make an exception for us.

MC: Lucien…

Looking at his serious face as he explains, my face involuntarily turns red. Just as I’m about to say something, the manager suddenly turns around, and I immediately lower my head.

In the exhibition room:

MC: What should we paint?

Lucien lowers his head and gently wipes the paintbrush. The corner of his mouth is raised, as though he already had an idea from the start.

Lucien: MC, what do you want to paint?

I originally thought he would give me a direct idea, and didn’t expect him to return the question.

MC: Although the refracted light from by the mirrors can create a dream-like effect, the painting itself is the most important. In that case, what kind of painting can channel a dream-like feeling?

Countless ideas float in my mind – fairytale worlds, surreal realities…

But a face gradually becomes clear in my mind. His appearance makes all the other ideas pale in comparison.

MC: Lucien…

I softly whisper the name belonging to the face appearing in my mind.

Lucien: What’s wrong?

He hears the sound I made, and slowly puts down the paintbrush while looking at me.

MC: I think I know what to paint now.

Lucien: What is it?

MC: You. The main purpose of this exhibition is to see the different definitions of dreams held by different people. My definition of dreams is… you.

Hearing this, Lucien looks visibly moved. He walks towards me slowly, leans over and gently pinches my cheeks.

Lucien: Silly. The manager said that this artwork is meant to be a collaborative effort. It can’t just feature your definition of dreams, but our definition of dreams. If that’s the case, it should be us.

Lucien responds in a quiet voice, handing me a paintbrush.

Lucien: We’ll each paint one stroke. This way, you wouldn’t be lazy.

MC: I wouldn’t be lazy. I’m filled with motivation right now!

They start painting.

Whenever I see my reflection in his eyes, it makes me feel incredibly peaceful.

Lucien: What are you smiling at?

MC: I… am wondering how this painting would turn out.

Lucien turns his head to the blank canvas. He thinks for a moment, then lets out an assured smile.

Lucien: Let’s finish it together then.

With this, he lifts the paintbrush to draw a line on the canvas. While the lines are seemingly random, they gradually reveal an outline-

MC: Eh? Are we the two people in the painting?

I lean towards the canvas as my eyes rove over it, trying to find any strange marks. Finally, my line of sight rests on “my” ear.

MC: My ears have become sharper?

Lucien responds with a subtle nod and adds a few strokes to the canvas.

Lucien: It was a sudden inspiration to give you elf ears.

MC: In that case, I also want to improvise.

I tilt my head to think for a while, then lift my hand, gently pressing my brush to the canvas. My fingers tremble slightly as I’m not used to this posture.

I mimic Lucien’s actions, and create an outline that is slightly crooked.

MC: Look, I’ve also added pointy ears for you! Although… it doesn’t look that good…

Lucien doesn’t speak, and instead looks at the canvas quietly. After a short silence, he turns his head, his eyes deep.

Lucien: Sometimes, you don’t necessarily have to draw it accurately. Using your imagination could bring about better results.

After saying this, Lucien turns to the misshaped “ears” with amusement.

I look at the outline on the canvas thoughtfully, and suddenly think of something.

I reach out to hold Lucien’s hand. The strokes are gentle yet accurate on the canvas.

MC: Lucien, let’s use our imagination together! Over here, our hands… can be a little longer. And over here, a star underneath our feet…

The sounds outside the window gradually quieten. I hold onto Lucien’s hand as we continue painting every stroke.

Without knowing how much time passed, the lines on the painting grow in number. There is no deliberate composition, proportion, or perspective - we are creating as we please.

After the final brushstroke, I release an exuberant smile.

The painting features two people in an embrace, surrounded by trees. From afar, it looks like “we” have blended in with the forest.

MC: This should be all right.

Lucien smiles while nodding. He turns towards the window. The sky has already started turning to dusk.

Lucien: I think the mirrors should make an appearance now.

They place mirrors in different parts of the room. As the sun sets, the mirrors start refracting light.

“We” seem to be in a colourful forest, and every ray of light is a gift from nature.

MC: Lucien, we’ve succeeded!

The sun sets, and the studio grows dim.

MC: The sun went down so quickly that I didn’t get to properly appreciate it before it disappeared…

Lucien: Even though there’s no sunlight, it doesn’t mean we will be plunged into darkness.

Even before I react, a ray of light appears from behind me.

I turn towards the window to see streetlamps lighting up one by one. The studio is once again illuminated with colours.

The mirrors once again play their roles, and the refracted light returns the canvas to its splendor.

Under the light, the “us” in the painting seemingly come to life, and it looks like we are dancing.

Lucien: When the light falls onto the canvas… it’s very beautiful.

While Lucien says this, he wraps an arm around me from behind.

Lucien: I really like the way you imagine us. You gave me a dream today, and this moment is wonderful.

I turn to face Lucien and bury my face in his chest.

MC: I hope the visitors can feel our hearts on the day of the exhibition.

Lucien: I am very lucky then, because I am a participant in your heart.

We stop talking, quietly enjoying the colours we painted together.

Instead of just thinking about each other, we should fill our hearts with “us”.

This day is a dream belonging only to us.

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc lucien #Victor: SEXY KISS #Gavin: INTENSE KISS #Kiro: LOVE BITE #Lucien: haha paint

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loudsuitlover · 5 years ago

Text

Doctor Harry IX. Rojitas las Orejas

A/N: Again sinful smut because this is what this series is all about...

for now

INDIE’S POV

The light hits my eyes. It surprises me that I’ve been sleeping with how illuminated Harry’s bedroom is. No wonder he has trouble sleeping. I open my eyes without moving another part of my body. I am faced with Harry’s bedside table and the bottle of sleeping pills and the picture of him with his mum and sister. They’re both gorgeous and so is he, obviously. They look very happy too. Harry is a lot younger in that picture than he is now and his hair is longer too. It’s her sister’s graduation judging by her graduation cap and her hair is long, like Ollie’s, and blond and wavy.

When I tilt my head Harry’s looking at me standing from his side of the bed. He has a towel wrapped around his waist and his bare chest is almost dry except from the drops that fall from his hair. He’s grinning widely.

“You sleep quite a lot.” He notes.

I rub one of my eyes with my fist and yawn before I stretch my body like a lioness. I readjust the sheets over my naked body just when Harry hovers over me and some droplets from his wet hair fall on my face. He smells deliciously good from his recent shower. I love the smell of his shower gel. I inhale his scent and he grins above me. He leans down to kiss me but I cup his face with my hands and face him to the side.

“What are you doing?” His voice sounds squashed between his cheeks that I’m pressing together.

“Wait until I brush my teeth.”

I didn’t even brush them last night. I always carry one of those tiny toothbrushes to take with you on my purse because I like brushing my teeth after every meal but I forgot last night.

“Why?” He complains.

“Because of morning breath.”

“That’s silly, let me.”

“It’s not.”

He tries to get away from my grip and tilts his head to try to kiss me again but I wrestle his movements until he calls me out.

“Indie.”

The way he says my name with that deep voice of his and that accent turns me on and of course I want to kiss him too, I just don’t want him to taste my dry stinky mouth. He grips my wrists and pins them on the pillow on both sides of my head and I hold my breath. Breathe through your nose, Indie, that way he won’t smell it.

“Please let me kiss you.”

His green eyes pierce mine and I purse my lips to contain a smile but he gets it.

“If you don’t let me kiss these lips” his green eyes set on my mouth “I’ll kiss the others.”

I blush.

“It tastes like a dirty butthole.”

He rolls his eyes and bursts into laughter.

“Which ones?” He jokes.

“My mouth, silly, because I didn’t brush my teeth last night. I bet I smell terrible.”

He hums as if he was considering it and I feel his nose on the side of my neck before he inhales deeply. I try to push him away but he hums this time as if I was some sort of baked cake. I roll my eyes. He can be such a clown sometimes.

“No, stop, Harry! I’m disgusting.”

It’s true, I sweated last night and didn’t shower after sex and didn’t even brush my teeth so I bet I smell like a dead rat. He pulls the sheets under my breasts and gets one of my nipples on his mouth and without my awareness, I moan and my back arches like a cat. The way my body reacts to him, paying zero attention to what I have to say is embarassing but so very pleasurable. I feel him smiling against my breasts.

“Yeah, you’re disgusting.” He jokes before he gives the same attention to my other breast.

He then kisses over my collarbone and his lips kiss and suck the skin on the side of my neck. I sigh when I feel his white teeth playfully nibbling on my skin before he sucks it inside his mouth and I feel the blood running to the surface. I hadn’t even realized he had let my wrists go until I feel his fingertips skimming against my entrance when he squeezes my ass cheeks.

“I’m happy that you’re here.” He pecks my lips as if tasting the waters and I smile, bringing my hands to his hair so I can tangle my fingers on his locks. “Do you think I care about your morning breath, silly?” He smiles. “You looked adorable when you stretched yourself like a kitten but I also got to see your tit.” He squeezes one of my breasts as he says that. “And now I want you.” I feel his hard on against my thigh. “Does it really make you so uncomfortable if I kiss you now?”

“I just don’t want you to taste my horrible morning mouth.” I pout.

He chuckles against my lips and his fingers move farther down my ass until he grazes my lower lips again. I’m embarrassingly wet already.

“Come here and let me taste your dirty butthole.”

I grimace at how piggy he can be and he chuckles before his tongue dives inside my mouth, exploring the wet cave without leaving a single inch virgin of his touch. He tastes fresh and minty and I bet he’s about to puke. He’s grinning when he pulls away.

“You don’t taste like a dirty butthole.” He pecks my lips once. “Just a butthole, I’d say.”

“You’re a jerk.” I laugh and try to push him away but he clearly has to help me for that and he’s not budging.

He’s chuckling as he hides his face on the crook of my neck before he starts pecking my skin again. His hands leave my body to rest on either side of me but he continues pressing kisses across my skin from my neck to my sternum and then across my collarbones and my shoulders. I’m amazed at his attention but my skin pumps begging for something more ardent and fiercer. He’s keeping his hands to himself on purpose. He knows he’s driving me crazy.

“You know I love how you smell, right?” I can hear the lust on his voice as he kisses his way down my belly and kisses my navel.

He’s getting closer to where I need him... I’m desperate for him.

“And I mean your skin, your scent, not your perfume.” I feel his nose against the skin below my navel as he inhales. “That’s why it’s silly for you to hide from me when you’re wearing nothing but you.”

He licks my skin where the hem of my underwear should be and I see his grin when I let my eyes look down. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, green hungry eyes boring into mine with his mouth hovering my pussy. I can feel his hot breath against my clit and I don’t know how long I’m going to take his teasing.

“You smell so good down here too.”

His hands finally rest on my skin and he sets on fire every part he touches. I’m going to give myself a delirium if he doesn’t fuck me already. His smile is adding to that delirium state too because it’s hard to know I’m not dreaming. I return his smile and his eyes darken as he tilts his neck and presses a kiss against my inner thigh. Please, don’t. His ritual begins with my leg and he covers my thigh with kisses until he sucks on the inner side of my knee. I try to pull him towards me sinking my ankle on his back but he chuckles and grabs it, pressing kisses on my calf muscle until he reaches my ankle and carefully kisses it too.

“You have such beautiful legs.” He compliments, grabbing my other ankle and bringing my feet to his mouth. “You have very beautiful everything.”

His green eyes stare into mine as he licks a stripe from my knee to my groin and then he stops and grins. I can see his hard on through his towel and it comforts me that he seems to be as turned on as I am but he’s enjoying the effect he has on me so much he can wait.

“Harry I’m going to cum.”

He laughs and then bites on my ankle and I hiss. He stares at my sex and then at me and I begin to blush. He’s memorizing every bit of me and it’s making me nervous.

“I just” He chuckles “You’re fucking gorgeous, Indie.”

“I’m so wet too.” I joke.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” He chuckles.

Just the first long lick is worth the torture of the anticipation. His name slips from my lips as I sigh and stretch my back against the bed and his tongue leaves lengthy and slow licks against my lips and my clit. I look down at his head between my legs as it moves like a feline animal drinking from a pond. His eyes aren’t close but they look that way to me because he’s looking down at what he’s licking so his eyelashes hit his cheeks but I appreciate that he lets me watch him unobserved. That’s until his green eyes meet my curious ones and I swear my heart skips a beat. I can feel him smile against my wetness as his blown away eyes turn cheerful. He’s always saying I’m beautiful but he is so perfect it’s mesmerizing.

His right hand is curled on my thigh keeping my legs opened for him but the left one leaves my hip to search for my hand on the mattress and when he finds it, he brings it to his head and hums against my dripping sex when I pull from his hair.

He alternates eating me out hungrily like a watermelon slice on a hot summer morning and leaving slow careful licks that go from my very entrance to my clit. He gives me a second before one lick and the other and I know he’s doing it to extend this because he can surely feel my clit throbbing and he knows my orgasm is just around the corner.

“Don’t cum yet, Indie.” He purrs.

I’m trying to but at the same time my stomach turns upside down as if he was sucking that out too. I fight for air and wiggle because despite how much I love what he’s doing, it’s like my body can’t take it and it tries to set me free from his merciless licks. His grip on my thighs make it impossible anyway.

Every stab of his tongue not only takes juices away, he’s also draining me out of all strength and all self-control and right now I feel completely given to him. I am not even aware of how loud my whimpers have grown. I sink my head against the pillow as my back arches from the bed and the tingles turn into electric currents that leave goose bumps everywhere on my skin.

“Harry” I whimper-moan, afraid I might go crazy for good.

He seems to understand where my pain is because he moves one hand from my thigh to the lower part of my belly and massages it as if that was going to release the tension he’s been building even though it seems to make exactly the opposite. I sigh.

“That’s it, baby” He soothes me “you’re doing so good.” His tongue licks my throbbing clit. “Do you want to cum?”

“Please” I’m out of my mind “Harry, please.”

“That’s okay, baby. I’m gonna make you cum.”

Harry accelerates his tongue against my clit and when I think it couldn’t possibly get better, I feel a finger sliding inside my wet cave. I pull from his hair and he moans. I feel so stimulated, I don’t think I’ve ever been this aroused. I feel like he’s tiding a knot on my lower belly and pulling and pulling and pulling until… it undid. I can’t control my hips as they ride Harry’s mouth and when I think my need for him couldn’t get any more embarrassing, I feel a gush releases from within that sends Harry into a moaning frenzy as he licks it all.

I hadn’t realized my eyes were shut until I open them. Harry is staring at me wiping his chin clean with his hand and his hair is a mess from all my pulling. I feel my walls clenching as I take him in. It’s unfair how my body reacts to him and how I want him again despite the mind-blowing orgasm he just gave me.

“You taste incredible.” He smiles.

He climbs up my body like a tiger and I hungrily kiss his mouth, letting my curious tongue taste myself on his, and he hums at my curiosity.

“See? Did you taste yourself on me?” I’m fucking throbbing. “Did you like it?” He grins.

He knows I loved it. I fucking gushed on him for fuck’s sake but I’m learning he has a thing for praising. I smile.

“I thought I was going to die.”

He laughs.

“I hope that’s a good thing.” He kisses the side of my neck before he sucks at it again.

“I loved it.” I reassure him.

He hums as he keeps kissing me and then he presses his hard on against my groin once. If he thinks I’ve forgotten about him he’s wrong but I don’t have any energy to move yet. I want to have him in my mouth too, return the favour, but instead he whispers on my ear.

“Well now hold on to something.”

With his signature speed, he rolls the condom on and places my hands on the headboard, so he was serious. I understand when he thrusts inside me with a strength that has me screaming. I’m afraid he’s going to embed me into the wall but my triceps do as they can as I hold my body against the headboard and welcome his hard thrusts.

He seems to be out of his mind as he lowers one of his hands down my back and grab my ass as he drills me hard against the bed. He’s a groaning mess on top of me and I think I’m going to gush on him again. I can’t control the volume of my moans.

“Fuck, Indie.” He gasps.

“I’m gonna cum, Harry.” I scream, my eyes roll to the back of my head.

“Already?” He groans. “Wait, baby, hold it in.”

I’ve never felt this way before, completely fucked and completely loving every second of it. I want him to hurt me, I want him to break me in half, to get so deep inside me I can feel him on my chest.

“I…” He cuts my whining short when he pushes me against the headboard agan. “I can’t.”

The sounds are melting me; the clapping sound of his skin against mine, his worked up breathing, his sighs, my own moans, the headboard against the wall. I think he’s going to break it. I try to hold it in as he asked me but I can’t, I feel all my muscles tensing and still I try to hold it clenching my walls as I can.

“Fuck, fuck” He gasps, his breath hits my cheek “feel so good, love; and sound so sexy… I could fuck you all day.”

“Harry, please.” I’m afraid I might start crying.

“Let go, baby.” He soothes me. “It’s okay.”

“Cum with me.” I beg him. “Please, Harry, cum with me.” My mouth search for his ear. “I want to feel you.” I whisper.

“Fuck.”

His thrusts turn even faster and I feel his hard on rub against my clit from the inside in a frenetic rhythm that has me worried he’ll set me on fire. I feel the pression building on my belly and my legs start to shake. He stops my left leg with his hand and I scream when the orgasm drains every last bit of me. His breath catches on his throat as he lets go inside me. It’s the first time in my life the condom bothers me. I want to feel him release his white stream inside me.

His chest is erratically going up and down when he lets himself fall on top of me. I feel him slowly rolling out of me in contrast with how fast our hearts are beating before his head drops on my shoulder. I want to hug him and I do, combing my fingers through his hair and concentrating on his breathing.

I frown when I wake up. I’m not even aware of when I fell back asleep. I look to my side and don’t find Harry and when I touch the mattress is cold against my warm hand. I get up from his comfy bed wrapping his sheets around my body and I take my purse before I make my way into his bathroom. I wash my face and brush my teeth and I think what to do with my messy hair. I want to let it down because I know Harry likes it but I do pick up half of it on a bun on top of my head. When I’m happy with the result I go out and notice he’s sitting on a stool on the kitchen typing away on his laptop.

He was right when he said he worked a lot. It’s 10 am on a Saturday. His laptop should be closed and kept on its case. He smiles when he turns to face me.

“Hi, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I had some things to do.” He shrugs. “And you looked so peaceful.”

He pulls the stool away from the table and opens his arms so I walk towards him and he sits me on his lap and kisses me.

“You screamed a lot.” He smiles smugly as he tacks a strand of hair behind my ear.

I chuckle and blush, I know I did. My eyes drop to his shirtless chest and trace his skin. He’s wearing sweatpants again. I love this version of him.

“Are you hungry?” I nod my head vigorously and he chuckles.

“Okay. Why didn’t you grab some clothes? You can take anything you want.”

“Thank you.” I peck his cheek and disappear back on his room.

I search for my underwear on the floor but make a grimace when I find my panties. They’re disgustingly wet and sticky. I rub my forehead. When he said I could take anything I wanted, did that include underwear? I spot his red sweater from last night on the floor and grab it. Putting it on, I realize it almost reaches my midthigh so I go without undies.

“What’s taking you so long?”

Harry enters his room like a whirlwind and picks me up bridal style like he did last time I was here and I laugh at his antics. He seems to love manoeuvring my body like a puppet. He’s so extra.

“What do you want for breakfast?”

“A cherimoya.”

“I don’t have any.” He frowns.

“Well I want one.”

“I’ll have to run to the shop.”

I look at him totally amazed. He seems serious.

“I was kidding.”

He narrows his green eyes and stops at the kitchen counter before he puts me down on a stool.

“You’ll pay for that.”

I roll my eyes. I’m not afraid of him. He rests his hands on the counter and watches me as I eye his kitchen. I want to see his living room in the daylight but I’m giving it my back. With the sun coming in through the big window on his side, I can see how cleaned his kitchen is. It almost looks new. I wonder if he cooks even though he told me he’s a good cook, but he could have been buffing.

“Do you want me to make you pancakes?”

“You make pancakes?”

He laughs.

“It’s fucking easy to make pancakes.”

“It’s not so easy to make a good pancake though.” I shrug.

“I’ll make pancakes and you let me know if they’re good.” He smiles and I nod. “My dad used to make pancakes every sunday when we were growing up.” He tells me as he searches for the ingredients on the cupboards. “Even though I’m not sure I have everything I need…”

“You don’t know what you have on your kitchen?”

“I mean flour is something I don’t use a lot.” He shrugs.

“You don’t make pancakes for the other girls?”

He’s giving me his back but he tilts his neck so he can look at me, he grins and shakes his head.

“No, I don’t.” He chuckles.

“Why not?”

“Because they don’t spend the night.” He rests his fists on his hips. “Do you like avocado?”

I laugh before I nod, there won’t be any pancakes for me either.

“Then I’m making avocado toast.” He smiles.

“Let me help you.”

I jump from my stool and circle the counter before I stand next to him. He lets me know where the fruit is and he gets the bread on the toaster before he starts smashing an avocado with a fork and then adding tiny bits of tomato, a bit of lemon juice, pepper and salt.

“Coffee?” He asks.

I nod and he turns the coffee machine on before he spreads his avocado mix on both our toasts. He sets everything on the kitchen counter, the fruit, the toasts and two cups of coffee. He looks at me waiting for me to sit down before he takes a seat himself. I sit back on the stool he had dropped me in before and he sits right in front of me. He grabs his phone and I hear some soft music coming out from speakers on his living room. It’s a pop song I’ve heard thousands of times on the radio.

“Never thought you’d be into pop music.”

“Why not?”

I shrug. I don’t actually know.

“It’s not like this is a playlist of my favourite songs.” He explains. “But I do like pop. I like pretty much everything. I played it because I thought you’d like it.”

“I don’t even know this song.”

He smiles.

“Me neither but it’s one of those spotify playlist… 2020 super pop hits or some shit like that.”

I chuckle as he smiles at me and then I wrinkle my nose dismissing the 2020 super pop hits playlist as I take a bite from the toast.

“This is good, Harry.” I tell him.

He nods and smiles.

“So you don’t like pop music?”

“I mean it’s not that I don’t like it. It’s just not something I would listen to if I was choosing the music.” I shrug.

“And what would you choose?”

“Extremoduro.”

“Extremoduro?” He tries it on his English tongue and it’s adorable. “What’s that?”

“That’s Spanish rock.”

“You like rock?” His green eyes widen.

“I love rock.”

His eyes narrow again.

“Are you just saying this on my sweater to feed the myth of Indigo Blue Anderson?”

I throw my head back and laugh.

“What’s the myth of Indigo Blue Anderson?”

“Like this sexy goddess who drinks gin and tonic, paints her lips red and listens to rock.”

I roll my eyes.

“Don’t turn me into a myth. I’ll disappoint you easily.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry. I’m very aware of your flaws.”

That kills my mood. Sometimes I wish he wasn’t so straightforward. I’m very aware of my flaws too, I don’t need him to remind me. I shut my thighs together, suddenly uncomfortable wearing so little cloths. My thighs are too chubby, on the summer I get this rash on my inner thighs if I walk along the beach on my bikini and I have a muffin top- it’s not big but it’s definitely there and also love handles if I were low waist jeans which I never do. I just know what to wear. I always choose clothes that flatter me and where I feel comfortable but obviously when I’m naked you can see all those things and he’s seen me naked quite a lot.

“Hey, I was kidding.” He has a sip from his coffee. “I mean you have flaws but so do I.” He shrugs.

Does he though?

“And anyway I’m sure we weren’t thinking about the same things.” He chuckles. “When I say flaws, maybe I should say things I don’t particularly like about you.”

“I don’t care what you don’t like about me.” I shrug.

“See? That’s one of them.” He eats.

“You know nothing about me.” I shake my head. “Can I have some sugar for my coffee?”

He smiles and hands me the sugar.

“Do you sleep on silk sheets?”

I don’t answer and he grins. I blame myself for having him starting this guessing game. So what if I sleep on silk sheets? We have money. What does that say about me?

“Do you have a walk-in wardrobe with a dressing table on it?”

“Cold.” I chuckle.

He thinks I’m an average posh girl.

“Do you have a chihuahua?”

“Frozen!”

“Would you name it Gucci?”

“You’re an idiot.”

We both laugh and keep having breakfast.

“You ride horses.”

Our eyes meet and he raises an eyebrow.

“Maybe.”

“You showed me last night.” He shrugs and I swat his arm. He laughs.

“You grew up among women.” I guess.

His green eyes look up from his clementine to me.

“You saw the photo on my bedside table. That’s cheating.”

I shrug. I didn’t say it because of that. I said it because of the way he treats me and how observant he is but I’ll let him think I’m that basic.

“You go to a country club with your family on summer holidays.”

“What do you think my life is? Dirty Dancing?”

He throws his head back and laughs.

“Have you ever taken the tube?”

“You’re the one who drives a Range Rover!” I accuse him. “And don’t think I didn’t notice this sweater is Gucci.”

“Like your chihuaha.” He jokes and I roll my eyes but smile anyway. “And a cat? A white cat with a pink ribbon called Marie?”

I laugh. I have to make sure he never sees my keychain because my father got me a Marie cat from The Aristocats in Paris about five years ago and I still have it.

“Why do you have so many preconceptions?”

“You’re gonna pretend you don’t have any about me?”

“You’re hard to read.” I confess. “Even your house is a little impersonal.”

“I don’t spend much time here.” He justifies.

“Where are you from? I barely know anything about you.”

“I’m from Bellamond.”

My eyebrows raise on my forehead. Bellamond is close from Grad but it’s a small humble town. I would have never guessed he was born and raised in Bellamond, wearing Gucci and sleeping on silk sheets. I had taken him to be a posh city guy like me.

“Surprised?” He smirks.

“A little.”

“Do you mind?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, having slept with some villager.” He shrugs.

“Seriously, Harry, what kind of bitch do you think I am?” I frown. “Just because I wear expensive clothes doesn’t mean I’m such an idiot. I couldn’t care less where you’re from.”

“You asked.” He shrugs.

“To get to know you, not to judge you.” I frown.

I don’t know when he made this image out of me. I don’t think I’ve said things like that to him. Is this what most people think of me?

“I lived in Bellamond until I graduated and then I moved to Grad to be closer to the hospital when I got the job. I got the job because of my thesis.” His green eyes look on mine as if checking whether I knew that or not. “I got a lot of offers.” He explains.

“What was your thesis about?”

“It’s not about what it was about. I just noticed this correlation between epilepsy and post surgery hypothermia and then some other people kept investigating that and apparently there is a correlation so…” He shrugs.

My lips part. He’s a geek too.

“I did this presentation at Grad Uni two years ago. I thought you knew.” He shrugs, belittling it.

I’m suddenly very intimidated and to think I’ve been doing an essay for him to check makes me embarrassed.

“Do you really think I’m smart?”

He tilts his head and frowns.

“Of course. Don’t you?”

“I know I’m smart. Just… Not the kind of smart that finds a correlation between two things like that out of nowhere.”

“That’s not about being smart.” He looks at me as if I had gone crazy. “That’s about being perceptive. And I’m very perceptive.” He smiles. “That’s why I knew you sleep on silk sheets. You lied on them in my bed and didn’t mention anything, that’s because you’re used to silk.” He shrugs as if it was a simple deduction. “Do you sleep naked?”

I throw my head back and laugh.

“You have a very beautiful laughter.” He notices.

“We have already had sex.” I chuckle. “You can stop doing that.”

“What?”

“Complimenting me all the time.”

“Why would I stop?”

“Well, you don’t need to.” I shrug.

“So? Should I not tell you you’re beautiful if I think you are?” He frowns like he’s completely confused.

I start to think maybe he wasn’t saying those things just to take me to bed.

“You’re very insecure, Indie.” Is he letting me know? “And honestly I don’t get why. You are breath-taking. Do you not think you’re beautiful?”

I smile but I don’t want to talk about my insecurities with him out of all people.

“You are gorgeous.” He decides.

“So are you.”

He grins and lets it be.

“Are you done?” His fingers hold my empty plate and I nod.

“Thanks for breakfast.”

“Thank you.” He gives me his back as he puts the plates on the dishwasher. “I liked my breakfast on bed more than the toast.”

He loves making me blush.

“Can I have a shower?”

“Of course. Don’t ask me that.”

I walk towards his bathroom.

“And for the love of God put on some of my underwear when you go out if you don’t want to kill me, woman.”

I laugh as I make my way to the bathroom. His bathroom is as clean as the rest of his house. I wonder whether he has someone hired to clean. He probably does because he said he doesn’t spend much time home. I leave his sweater on the white counter on his bathroom and step inside the shower.

It scares me how right he would have been about most of the things he said had I never met Dylan. I would have never named my dog Gucci, I’m not that tacky; but he would have been right about pretty much everything else.

I imagine him talking to my family. Would Mum like him? She probably would, even though he’s older and he doesn’t come from our circle. They liked Dylan and Dylan wasn’t from our circle either.

I only realize I’m crying when I feel the salty taste of my tears. That conversation reminded me of Dylan more than I would like to admit and the fact that I’m now showering at some other guy’s house and wearing his clothes and having breakfast with him… What does that say about me?

And what are the things he doesn’t like about me? He doesn’t even know about Dylan. If he has things he doesn’t like about me now, if he ever knows about Dylan then he’d run away for good. But I don’t care about that. This is just sex. Harry can leave whenever he wants. I’ll find another one even though I’m sure there’s nobody else who can give me that kind of orgasms… Or maybe there is? Yeah, there probably is.

When I get out of the shower, I comb my hair with a brush I find on the cupboard under the sink and brush my teeth again and after wrapping the towel around my body, I walk inside his room and open his wardrobe. The bed is perfectly made, he must have done it while I was in the shower. He said I could take anything, underwear too, and this time he didn’t leave anything ready for me. He probably just wants to see what I choose. I shake my head at the realization.

He mostly has suits and dressing shirts on the left side and on the right side he has expensive sweaters and jeans. I’ve seen him wearing sweatpants though and I know he works out so he must have sport clothes somewhere. I find cotton t-shirts on one of the drawers and grab the first one I see. I smile when I see is an Elvis Presley t-shirt. I wonder if he likes rock and roll. I also grab a pair of grey Calvin Klein boxers- because he doesn’t have any brandless- and I choose not to look at myself in the mirror before I go ask him whether he has a hair dryer.

He's still typing away on his laptop but now he’s sitting down on the couch. The kitchen is cleaned too. Either I took longer than I thought in the shower or he’s the fastest cleaner on earth and he even got time to work. I don’t have to say anything for his green eyes to leave the screen of his laptop and set on me. His hands stop the typing and his eyes roam my body up and down. His jaw clenches and I can almost hear him think.

“Damn.” He smiles.

“Do you have a hair drier?”

He shakes his head. I should have known better. He doesn’t need one. I shrug and grab my phone from the kitchen counter before I take a seat on the armchair right in front of the spot on the couch where he’s sitting and I check my texts. The Golden Girls’ group isn’t active since 4 am and I assume the girls might still be sleeping as hangover as they get and J must be with David. They were going to the beach today. I then text my mum to let her know I’m still alive.

Harry’s very quiet and he’s not typing anymore and when I look up at him, I catch his green eyes roaming my bare legs up and down. He seems to be obsessed with me.

“Do you like Elvis Presley?” I start a conversation.

“He’s my favourite singer.”

“Really?” I grin.

“You find it funny?”

“It’s peculiar.” I shrug.

“He’s The King. What’s peculiar about that?” He states and I try not to laugh.

I agree with him. I also think Elvis Presley’s the king; but it’s just funny to me that he defends him so seriously.

“Even though it’s hard to think about him when I can see your nipples peeking through my t-shirt.”

I roll my eyes. He really is insatiable. He places his laptop on the coffee table between us and circles it before he fully lies on top of me. His phone is vibrating against the table but he doesn’t pay any attention to it as he corners me. I try to look away but I just can’t take my eyes off of him. He’s mesmerising with those beautiful green eyes and those pinks lips and the way he licks them staring at me... He holds my hand and brings it to his chest. His heartbeat is completely tachycardic.

“Can you feel it?”

I nod, totally hypnotized by him. I feel like Mowgli talking to the snake. He grins.

“Either I work out or I eat you.”

My heartbeat mimics his in seconds. I can’t control my body when he’s close to me. My body’s reaction is so separated from my mind, which seems to just shut down, that it scares me. I’ve never had this with anyone else. It’s like my body already knew him, like I had forgotten about him but my body hadn’t. It’s incredible how just the touch of his skin can turn me on but I love the way he touches me. For the moment I’m with him, I feel beautiful and free, and I want to feel like that all the time.

“So what should I do?”

I cup his face and he leans into my touch.

“You could have a cold shower too.” I tease.

He looks away from me and snorts and before I can hold him back, he stands up and I see him disappear inside his bathroom. Is he really going to take a cold shower? No! I don’t want him to! I want him to fuck me.

As soon as I walk inside the bathroom he pushes his front against my back and corners me against the white marble top. I see his grin on the mirror and smile back at him.

“You’re so funny, Indie.” He jokes.

I feel his hard on against the lowest part of my back and all I want is for him to bend me over the counter and take me from behind.

“Fuck me.” I beg.

My fingers cling on the marble top for dear life when his large hands descend from my waist to remove my boxers. His hands look so pale in contrast with my skin. We’re at the end of October but I still keep my summer tan. Always caressing my skin, his fingers snake around the hem of his t-shirt that I’m wearing and he takes it off, letting it fall on the floor next to us.

“Fuck.”

I gasp when his hand moves down between my legs and he presses his wrist against my clit, tilting his wrist in circular motions and sending me into a moaning frenzy. His other hand holds my bare waist firmly and his green eyes are set on the mirror staring at me. I entertain my eyes with the way his hand moves against me but I feel the air being sucked out of my lungs and I’m afraid if I keep watching the way he posses me I’ll cum in a minute like I always do. I think it’s safe to look up but when my eyes scan my naked body I spot every flaw I try to ignore on a daily basis.

I look down to the marble top and focus on his arm trying to erase that image from my head. He said he’s very aware of my flaws too... Then how does he want to fuck me all the time? How does he want to fuck me at all? He could have any girl from a catwalk. His finger sliding inside my hole cut my thoughts short and I scream when another finger joins in and thrust inside me.

“Indie.”

His lust mixes with concern as he calls my name. The hand that’s not between my legs grabs my chin and lifts my head. My eyes are closed. I try to distract him. I don’t want him to try to fix my insecurities with stupid compliments he doesn’t even mean. I caress his hard on with my hand and hear him gasp on my ear.

“Indie.”

I finally open my eyes. Harry doesn’t stop his intrusion but he stares at me thoughtfully. His fingers keep moving in and out of me, very slowly and I can feel his jawline against my temple as he speaks.

“What’s wrong?”

I press my hips against his until I feel his length between my ass cheeks and I start riding my hips, helping his hand and tribbing against his hard cock. He stops my hips with his hand and presses a kiss to my temple.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” He pleads.

I shake my head. I can’t even look at him. It’s like everything Javier ever said about me keeps hunting me. I thought dumping him would be enough to get his toxic voice out of my head but it isn’t. I keep hearing him telling me my thighs are too thick to wear such short skirts, that they don’t really flatter me. At the time I was stupid enough to think he was saying that for my own good, so that I didn’t walk around being ridiculous like a piglet on woman’s clothes. He also used to say I should exercise more. I already exercise, I run and I do abs and gluts and legs exercises but my body’s built is just like this. I’ve tried so many diets and I honestly eat very healthy. My diet’s just like Coco’s and she’s still almost two sizes thinner than me. It gets to a point where there’s little I can do.

“You don’t want to?” His voice sounds panicky as his finger abandon me. “Because that’s totally fine. I apologize if I’ve pushed you in anyway, you’ve got to know you can always-“

I turn around, cup his cheeks and stop his rambling with a kiss. He’s never pushed me and I won’t have him think otherwise. I’ve enjoyed every minute I’ve had with him and I’m as horny as he is all the time because there’s just something I can’t control around him.

“It’s not you. Everything you do is perfect.”

He sighs. He doesn’t seem too convinced.

“You just don’t want to do it in front of the mirror.”

Damn, reading people’s mind might be possible. I nod. This time it’s him who cups my cheeks and kisses my mouth.

“Undress me.” He whispers against my lips.

He keeps kissing me, his tongue intruding my mouth. I wonder how such a wet, short muscle can give such pleasure. I could kiss him for hours and he gave me a demonstration of how good his tongue can feel on my other lips too… I don’t think I’ll ever get enough.

I take my time undressing him like he does with me and caress down his chest and abs until I slide my hands under the hem of his boxers and pull both his boxers and his sweatpants down together. I wonder if he takes as much pleasure when I undress him than I do when he does the same with me. When he’s fully naked, his hands snake around my waist and he turns me around so I’m facing the mirror again. He holds my chin and my waist forcing me to stare at our reflection.

“Look at yourself, baby.” He called me baby again. “Please.”

I focus on him and he lets me at first. I can barely see him for he’s standing right behind me but the little I can see, that is his shoulders and the upper part of his chest and his arms around me are something to behold. It’s like he was made to be stared at.

“You know you’re very hot, don’t you?”

“You don’t need to say that.” I hold his stare through the mirror. “You already got me naked in your bathroom. You don’t have to keep working for it.”

“Working for it…” He repeats. “Indie, you’re fucking hot. You’re very cold but you’re gorgeous and your body” his green eyes leave mine so he can roam my reflection up and down “your body is a wonderland, baby.”

I chuckle.

“You’re turning mushy on me.”

He chuckles too and shrugs before he presses a kiss to my shoulder. This is the side of him Marie doesn’t know. Well, nobody knows, but I bet if Marie knew him like this she wouldn’t be so crossed about him.

He’s told me before he never lies and it makes me mad that it was so easy for me to believe Javier’s nasty words and instead I can’t seem to believe Harry. I mean he does get turned on all the time but I figured that was more about him than it is about me. He likes sex, that’s a fact, and I know I’m not the only girl he sleeps with. I wonder if he says all these things to them too.

“Do you really think that?” The vulnerability on my voice betrays me.

“If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”

This time I do look at my face in the mirror, because I certainly don’t want to see his after that, and even to me it looks like the personification of excuse me?

“You said it yourself. This is just sex. You don’t need to know the ins and outs of a person to like them physically and even though I know you now- even though you keep telling me I don’t- and I know your ins are very interesting, I didn’t need to know any of that to want to fuck you. I thought you were hot straight away when we met. I mean I gave you a hug before I introduced myself.” He frowns as if he was judging himself and I chuckle. “Who does that?”

I throw my head back as I laugh and it hits his chest. I think about him asking me out and then calling me to ask again and I think about that first dinner; it surprises me the whole thing was because of how I look.

“See? You look gorgeous when you laugh too.” His hands go back to my hips and his fingertips tease my skin dangerously close to the place he left wet and unattended. “You also look gorgeous when you cum, you know?” He presses a kiss to the spot below my ear.

His fingers move down to my centre again and my eyes set on the reflection of his large hands on the mirror. It’s mesmerising. He sucks on the skin of my neck until the blood goes to the surface and then he licks to soothe the sting. He sighs against my wet skin raising goosebumps all over my shoulders and chest and grins at the effect he has on me.

“I want you to watch yourself.” He whispers on my ear before he nibbles on my earlobe.

His large hand travels down my neck to my chest where he squeezes my breast on his hand. My pelvis instinctively shifts back to relieve some of the tension.

“These stunning full breasts of yours…” He squeezes them on his hands and my nipples and the rest of my body reacts to him. “I love them.”

His fingers trace the skin on my waist before he squeezes my flanks. I can see my flesh spilling from his hands but I don’t think it would feel better for him if it were different.

“Your waist…” holding my waist he pushes me further against the sink until my lower lips press against the cold, soft end and I moan. His hands move to my hips “and your hips that you sway when you walk and drive me crazy” and he moves my body up and down, rubbing my wet lips and clit against the marble top.

I gape like a fish. His hands continue exploring my body moving from my hips down to my ass cheeks. He slaps me and I gasp and giggle, amused at how much I liked that. He’s grinning as he pecks my temple.

“Your ass…” He hums as he grabs it making my walls clench and my wetness spread on my inner thigh “so round and soft… I want to bite it.”

I am a moaning mess by the time he reaches my thighs.

“And these thighs… Oh, man, these thighs… When I saw my t-shirt hugging these thighs the other day… I wanted to crash you against the wall and squeeze your thighs on my hands as I buried myself inside you, baby… And this morning when you had them wrapped around my face…” He hums.

My hand crawls to the back of his head and I tangle my fingers on his hair and only then I realize I’ve been moving my hips on my own against the sink. I’m humping a marble top in front of Harry but somehow it doesn’t embarrass me or even seems strange to me. That’s what he does to me.

“You’re a goddess, Indie.”

His hard length presses against my butt and he pushes me further against the top. He’s enjoying the show. My eyes get used to my body. I don’t know if it’s because there’s not enough blood in my brain for me to have complex thoughts or whether his words actually has such effect on me but I’m not upset with my body anymore. If he likes it so much, it must be better than I think, because his body is perfect and his face is beyond perfect so if even from his perfection he sees me pretty, that must mean something.

“But” What? Don’t ruin it “there isn’t enough Indie here.” His index finger taps where my heart is.

My lips part as my eyes set on his finger on my chest. I sigh. I couldn’t fight him on that but before I can think too much about it, his fingers press on the side of my neck and he guides my mouth to his.

The hand that was pointing at my heart cups my breast and he squeezes the flesh until I moan on his mouth. My right hand snake around his neck until I pull from his soft hair. He groans on my mouth, he likes it when I do that. But in a second he disappears and I gasp when he playfully bites my ass cheek like he said he wanted to. He chuckles as he cuts the condom package open.

His mouth covers mine in a kiss and his tongue dives inside as his hands hold my hips and move them up and against him and my back arches like a puppy bending down to seep in under a fence.

I’ve been taken from behind before, but never like this and I’ve never wanted it more. His hand grabs one of my breasts as he trusts inside me in one long, slow motion. We both sigh at the delicious intrusion. His warm hand finds my clit and he presses slow but firm circles against my skin. My head falls to his shoulder and I gasp and moan his name.

“Open your eyes.” He whispers on my neck.

When I do the imagine before me makes me gasp. The lack of blood in my brain makes it hard to process what I see so it’s hard for me to recognize the girl in front of me. Her cheeks are pink and her lips are red from kissing. I’ve seen her before, on this same bathroom, and I like her. She’s beautiful and her eyes are sparkly and have… Life in them. Sometimes I think that’s what I’m missing. There’s not enough Indie here.

I see Harry too. His green eyes are set on the mirror too and he smiles when our eyes meet. His left hand is holding my hair on a messy bun so he can pull my back to his chest and the other hand massages my sex.

The slow rhythm of his hips is a torture I don’t mind for it lets me feel the entirety of him, from the base to the tip, every time he moves in and out of me.

“You’re so thick.” I sigh. “I love it.”

“You like it slow?” He licks a stripe on the side of my neck and I hum a response. “Kiss me.”

My belly flips at his plead. I tilt my head and press my lips against his and only then I realize how tense he is. This slow pace seems to be killing him too.

“Do you wanna go faster?” I whisper against his lips.

“I want you to kiss me.”

I chuckle against his mouth. His lips are parted for me yet I run my tongue across his bottom lip. I know I’m driving him crazy but he drives me crazy all the time, he deserves it. I hear him breathe in through his nose when my tongue finally gets inside his mouth and he pulls from my hair. I moan out load, I love the sting.

Our kiss is intense but intimate and if he wasn’t so slowly drilling my love channel it would be almost uncalled for giving what we are. But I love kissing him and I love how he kisses me back and I don’t care about anything else.

“Shit, Indie” He whines against my mouth “I can’t get enough of you.”

My stomach tenses up and he growls.

“Baby, I’m gonna go faster.” He grunts. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“Fuck me hard, Harry... Like you did this morning.”

“Fuck, Indie.” He growls.

I feel his hand releasing my hair before it moves between my shoulder blades and he pushes me away from him so my belly hits the marble top. I moan when he pushes inside me.

“Do you feel me deeper?” He grunts behind me.

“Yes.” I moan. “Fuck, yes, fuck me harder, Harry.”

I feel his grip on my hips tightening and then he starts drilling me against the marble top like he did this morning on his bed. I hear him grunt and gasp in a frenzy and I’d calm him down if I wasn’t at the edge of madness myself. I’ve never been this desperate and this hungry for anyone.

“You like it when I fuck you like this, don’t you?” He thrusts inside with the strength of a hurricane. “Fast and hard.”

I nod my head. My knuckles are white as I hold on to the top.

“Such a dirty girl, Indie.”

I feel the knot on my belly again. I don’t know how many more seconds I can hold it in but I don’t think he’s gonna last much longer anyway. I lift my hips up and I moan as he curses at the new angle. I feel my climax taking over me. My muscles tense and I remain blind for a second as I feel a current of electricity run across my body. For a moment there’s nothing around me and I’m nothing either but the spot where he’s connected with me.

His hand tangles on my hair and he pulls me to him so he can kiss my neck while his thrusts turn sloppier and slower until they stop. He hugs my waist as he catches his breath over my shoulder and presses a kiss there as he rolls out of me.

“Fuck.” He smiles.

With his fingers on my chin, he tilts my neck and kisses me again. It’s an innocent kiss that brings back the calm. He smacks my ass with a grin before he walks out of the bathroom, leaving me there flabbergasted. He is a sex God.

I freshen up in the bathroom and put his clothes back on. I’m combing my hair when he knocks on the door.

“Indie, Jason’s calling you and you have three missed calls from him.” He announces. “Might be important.”

I open the door and take my phone from him.

“J”

“Hi, Indie” He’s crying hard.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay, Jason?”

“It’s David. He… I didn’t know who to call.”

“What happened, J? What did he do?”

If he landed a finger on him, I’m killing him with my bare hands.

“He… We were in the car and we were fighting because… Well I told him some of the things you usually tell me and… He got so mad, Indie… And he stopped the car and told me to get out…” He sobs. “In the middle of nowhere, Indie, and I don’t… There’s no Uber service here. I didn’t know who to call.” He repeats.

“I’ll get you, J.” I take a deep breath. I’m furious. “Send me your location. It’s okay, I’ll be there.”

I hang up the phone and walk past Harry and towards his bed.

“Where are my clothes?” I ask him.

He points at his chest of drawers in front of me and I see my clothes folded on top of it. I put my clothes on in no time and he just stares at me. I’m beyond mad. I want to find David and fucking kill him but what I need to do is pick up my friend who he’s abandoned like a dog. I take deep breaths.

“What happened, Indie?”

“Jason’s boyfriend dumped him in the middle of the highway.” I tell him. “Can you believe that? They were fighting and he just stopped the car and fucking told him to get out!”

“For fuck’s sake.” He says.

“Yeah and I need to pick him up because there’s no way he makes it out of there.”

“Baby, do you think you’re okay to drive?”

Driving. My throat fails on me. I don’t drive. I haven’t even thought about that when I told Jason I’ll go get him. I can’t do it. But he knows this. He knows I don’t drive and he still called me. My mind goes wild.

“Do you want me to drive you?”

I shake my head. Jason would kill me if I were to go on his rescue with Harry.

“I gotta go.”

I make sure I have my phone and my keys and run out of his house.

“Be careful!” I hear him call after me.

I run down the stairs like a mad woman and take the stair landings as the time to look for her number on my phone. She’ll help me with this. She’d help me with anything.

“Hi!”

“Coco, I need your help.”

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