#i think i jsut need to sleep on it im fresh off of an all nighter

[feng-shui71]

World’s best matchmaker and brother-in-law, everyone.

[enden-k]

You mention that you're quite a sleepy person. Is it an energy expenditure thing, a medicine thing, or a I-have-no-fucking-clue-why issue?

Sending love over ♡.

more of the third. im a really really sleepy person in general (unless im having an episode) and i can usually tell what kind of sleepiness im experiencing, like when its of mental nature (depression etc) or physical nature (sunlight and warmth, after intense physical activity, pollen allergy puffing up my eyes etc)

but theres this kind of sleepiness (the one thats bothering me sm) i really dont know where its from; i get the hours of sleep i need to function but i wake up like i havent slept at all. then im wide awake and energized for a few hours until im suddenly so sleepy, i often doze off right where i am (often unfortunately at my desk, in class, even the train or bus) i need naps in the afternoon and still feel tired. i can still sleep at night despite naps but i wake up often. caffeine doesnt rlly hit anymore. i have chronic migraines in general and often my headaches are triggered by too much sleep (too much sleep!!! imagine) some days (like today) my sense of balance is off and i cant even walk properly, im swaying to one side like one part of my brain is heavier. probably the one filled with thoughts about kvthm or smth smh

whats bothering me the most is that sometimes im so sleepy, i can feel my brain is not working properly and i have trouble forming a thought or just focusing. im non speaking but im pretty sure if i would try now, i would probably be even worse at communication than usual bc i usually have to focus hard and rn i dont have that focus. it really troubles me

anw i doubt its caused by mental health issues as i dont feel the usual signs my body sends, and its not bc of allergy or any of the meds i take. and its confusing as hell bc im a healthy boy!!!!!!! i only drink water, my meals are balanced, i love the sunlight and fresh air, i dont smoke and i only drink on occasions ughhhhhhhh ppl actually think im lazy and comfy jsut lazing around all day and happily napping away when im home. id rather use the time im wasting on naps for smth more useful, it really sucks

anw this got super long sry, just proof how much it annoys me that i complain this much ig 😩

[mass-effect-a-companions-react]

Mornings Off

oh whats this? a post? How the ME:A romances wake up next to Ryder on a morning off

--- Liam - Liam likes lazy mornings. Days were he can just wake up next to Sara and relax. They usually wake up around the same time, pressing small kisses to each others faces with giggles and whispers. He prefers to have her sleep curled against his chest, one arm wrapped around her (even if it fell asleep ages ago) so that he can run his fingers along her arm while they talk about last nights dream “have i died in my sleep and gone to heaven?  because surely your an angel” “its too early in the morning for pickup lines, Costa” “its never too early for pick up lines”

Cora - Cora wakes up first, laying on her back with Scott  practically pressed on top of her. She never really could relax, even on days off. It was always an endeavor trying to wiggle out of his grasp without him waking up and he pouts like  a puppy when he realizes shes gone. Normally Cora shoves a pillow in her place to keep him sedated  and gives him a forehead kiss, before she does her morning routine and puts on a fresh pot of coffee, making it jsut the way he likes it and leaving the cup by the bed. By the time Scott even bothers to sit up she's already pressed, dressed and watering her plants.  ”Im starting to think you love the plants more than me” ”good morning to you too, Scott. Did you sleep well?” ”yes i did. Thank you for the coffee, by the way” Peebee - Bold of you to assume PeeBee even gets up in the mornings on the days off. Shes a heavy sleeper, so  she can and will sleep in any time she gets. (She sleeps alot to regain all that goblin energy)Ryder, bless their hearts, cannot escape PeeBee’s octopus grasp, as she raps herself around them and clings to their warmth, happily snoring until its nearly noon. When she actually does wake up, she still remains in bed for another 10 minutes and always jokingly calls ryder a weirdo for watching her sleep. please, please let go peebee, they really have to pee. “i know your awake. Come on babe, my legs are going numb” “snore” “did- did you just say snore instead of actually fake snoring?”

Jaal - Jaal tends  sleep with Ryder on his chest, the skin to skin contact really does him in. He tends to be an early riser, though unlike cora hes content staying where he is. He watches them sleep, carefully running his thick fingers through their hair  committing every detail to memory as if it were the last time he will see it. He just holds them until they wake up, giving them soft rapid fire kisses (that he totally doesn't use that as a tactic to wake them up early what are you talking about). Every time Ryder cracks open their eyes they are instantly met by his vivid blue ones, grinning at them as he nuzzles their face. 

”Good morning my darling one” ”I swear if you ever wake me up in any other way i would never forgive you” ”*Chuckling* good to know” Vetra -  Early riser by nature, and usually gets out of bed instantly , even if ryder is clinging to them. However, modern problems require modern solutions and she will literally carry ryder around while doing her morning routine and checking her logs for any supplies she has to pick up. Vetra is a busy body,even on days off and it isnt untill she’s resituated on the bed when ryder wakes up, pushing her data pad down and demanding kisses “ugh do you ever stop? Can i at least get my morning kiss before you start jumping into work?” “Not with that morning breath you’re not. Go brush your teeth.” “oh, so cruel to me” 

Gil - Like PeeBee, gil tends to sleep in. Though not as late. He usually tends to take his time wake in up in increments, always ending with a big stretch and  loud, obnoxious yawn before “gracefully” flopping back down on the bed full force, causing it to bounce a bit.  Gil runs like  furnace, so Scott usual has his arms rapped around him as soon as he sits up, nuzzling into his neck befoe the two go to do their morning routings together, constantly messing with each other as they do.

“Did you just give me a shaving crème moustache?” “you look ever handsome with it” “Scott i don't even shave. And i  already have a  great beard and mustache, thank you.”

Suvi-  Suvi sleeps curled into Sara, and  Sara complains the moment she rolls away from her. Suvi is a long time practicer of “late to bed, early to rise” often sliding in and out of of bed at the weirdest fucking hours. Though is alot more difficult on days off because ryder wraps around her like a vice grip, knowing that Suvi actually doesn't have anything to do and is forced to stay in bed jsut a little longer. Suvi can easily be convinced.

“Let go, Sara. I have some reports i need to go over in the lab.” “5 more minutes” “....You’re lucky you’re cute”

Reyes -  Waking up next to Reyes was rare in itself, so you bet your ass Ryder is going to take advantage of it. Reyes wakes easily and normally slides away from Ryder without being seen or heard, leaving them feeling just a bit colder. But after things settle down, so does he, slowly but surely. If they ever do share the same bed, Reyes likes to sleep with his arms wrapped around Ryder, holding them close  to convince himself that they are actually there.  He always wakes up first, no matter what, and sits up with their head in his lap, letting them rest as he checks his omni tool, running one hand through their hair. “ Hmh- wait. Your still here?” “Dont sound so surprised to see me, amore” “Its a good kind of surprised, Reyes”

Bonus Evfra (i will never not be thirsty) - Like Vetra this man does not know the meaning of the words “a day off” and will rise with the sun in order to get to the resistance base. He wakes giving Ryder a kiss on the face before getting ready for the day, taking extra preparation to make them breakfast before he leaves and placing it on the nightstand as a form of apology, kissing them again before leaving. on the rare days Ryder actually does convince Evfra to stay in bed (usually after a long night of “passion”) he sleep on his stomach with ryder on his back (he likes to feel their weight, it grounds him) and he is content just lying there and listening to them breath with his eyes closed until they get up, placing g a kiss along his spine. “oh ho? what's this? a handsome stranger in my bed?” “Firstly this is my bed. Secondly, you just woke up how are you this annoying already?” “Good morning to you too, big blue.” 

[if-the-crown-fits-translate-it]

Discord pt 98

[Date: 19/03, 06:01 AM GMT - 19/03, 06:50 AM GMT]

[CW for unethical floral experimentation, injury mention]

kateza affectionate: “mona, don't be so hard on yourself, ok?”

Maxwell: “....i....think we should tell her about the other stuff

mona”

Little-K1ng: “............theres more????”

Marcus: “.........heh”

Little-K1ng: “uh. heh?”

Maxwell: “I saw syds observation post from yesterday...it had a scrrenshot of something I said, and jack and them told me thats what you didnt want me seeing yesterday....”

Marcus: “Oh that

....yeah”

Little-K1ng: “O_O

uh..........................................................”

Marcus: “...that’s kind of what the argument was about”

Little-K1ng: “,,,,,,,,,,,,um

oh fuck. i

max...”

Maxwell: “im not upset”

Little-K1ng: “i just...”

Maxwell: “i took some time”

Little-K1ng: “you're... not?”

Maxwell: “and i get why you did it

yeah

but”

kateza affectionate: “you're in an unprecedented situation. a situation that keeps getting worse and worse with seemingly no reprieve. I don't blame you for slipping up here and there- there's so much stress involved that it's almost expected for you to be upset. i don't think anyone blames you for doing these things. that's all i wanted to say.”

Maxwell: “its gotten worse

baroness has images of more times where i've slipped up

at least twice during my argument with her”

Little-K1ng: “oh christ”

Maxwell: “and then I switched back to ender for certain words....”

Little-K1ng: “i.....”

Maxwell: “and....i sent prince an ask on faer blog....”

Little-K1ng: “you... did?”

Maxwell: “saying i was sorry for upsetting faem and i hoped i could see faem again soon”

Little-K1ng: “oh no oh no

oh max....”

Maxwell: “fae said "see you soon, page"”

Marcus: “...max signed the ask as page as well”

Maxwell: “no no

the was the second one”

Marcus: “..there was one before??”

Maxwell: “after he answered the first one i closed my eyes to breath”

Little-K1ng: “how can i be getting worse so much faster....”

Marcus: “.....I don’t...remember”

Little-K1ng: “unless...”

Marcus: “...huh”

Little-K1ng: “oh fucking christ no non on ono nonon ono nonono.....”

Maxwell: “and when I opened them like three minutes had passed and I had sent an ask as page apparently”

Little-K1ng: “did..... did crown do something? did he get in? did he get in when i left the door open??? and make it worse???????”

Marcus: “...I don’t

...max i don’t remember you sending an ask

Only page”

Little-K1ng: “is it my fault? did... did i do that? did i really.... i..... left you vulnerable....... i....”

Maxwell: “no it isnt your fault”

Little-K1ng: “i just....... this doesnt.... this doesnt hurt me nearly as much as it should.... im not... im still not upset..?”

Marcus: “Mona, Crown didn’t come in...I would’ve seen him. It’s not your fault”

kateza affectionate: “this isn't your fault mona

you're probably emotionally tired”

Little-K1ng: “but i just... i still just feel empty about it. i feel fully justified about this and i know i fucked up but im not hurt”

Raeva: “oh...”

Maxwell: “uh....I have marigold tea if you want some”

Little-K1ng: “i cant even fucking apologize right”

Marcus: “You didn’t mess up

...max what”

kateza affectionate: “you're emotionally burnt out, Mona. This is a bad situation”

Little-K1ng: “wh. where did you get marigolds?”

Maxwell: “oH

uH”

Marcus: “max”

Little-K1ng: “....;max????”

Maxwell: “hm.....well....

Little-K1ng: “max i dont have any tea except dandelion root

you're 16 you dont have money or a car

where the fuck,????”

Maxwell: “fetch was hurt....and i wanted to make sure I could help him tomorrow if he came back home tomorrow”

Marcus: “.....arent the flowers on your laurel...”

Maxwell: “.....”

Marcus: “max you didnt”

Little-K1ng: “mAaAaAaX??!!!!

what the HELL”

Marcus: “Don’t yell at him!”

Little-K1ng: “ahhhhh??????????????

im ??? not yelling on purpose im just????????

what the hell ??????”

Maxwell: “i wanted to help and it works?!”

Marcus: “you tested it???”

Maxwell: “yes”

Little-K1ng: “thats such a silly idea max of course it worked??? magic is like that sometimes??? but why would you have even thought about it ?????????”

Marcus: “max”

Maxwell: “i...”

Little-K1ng: “thats so silly how did it taste wh”

Maxwell: “i knew marigolds have the ability to help heal wounds...they can help speed up the process sometimes by a couple of days”

Marcus: “Are you okay??”

Maxwell: “they can help with blood flow”

Marcus: “Which ones did you cut off? Did you only cut one?”

Little-K1ng: “are you???? ok max first of all. heavy metal poisoning speedrunning. nice one. but also. dude cmon they double when you do that”

Maxwell: “and can sometimes even be used to treat infections...

i only cut one but it workss”

Little-K1ng: “one flower for how much ??”

Marcus: “...”

Little-K1ng: “like. did the water change color? bubble strangely? make fucked up ender noises at you??”

Maxwell: “i got a scrape on my arm when I was pacing outside waiting for fetch and I dipped a paper towel in it and put it on the wound”

Little-K1ng: “god maybe i am emotionally exhausted”

Maxwell: “it almost fully closed instantly”

Marcus: “...I kinda hope it made ender noises that would be funny”

[Maxwell: “it almost fully closed instantly”]

Little-K1ng: “hUH”

Maxwell: “it healed the wound faster than normal

not completely but enough”

Little-K1ng: “oh you better hope you dont do that too much and find out once your laurel wilts the wounds just open wtf”

Marcus: “I don’t think normal marigolds do that”

Little-K1ng: “thats like. supremely fucked dude??? thats weird.”

Maxwell: “.....”

Marcus: “...interesting”

Little-K1ng: “if you only used one did you??? just use the one i cut?”

Maxwell: “i wanted to help fetch

no the...one you cut was a bud

i needed one with petals that was bloomed...”

Marcus: “Y’know Max, I don’t think anyone else would’ve tried that”

Maxwell: “also the bud hasnt wilted despite being cut off a day ago...

but yeah i needed petals”

Marcus: “....”

Maxwell: “i tried to take em off when it was on my head but it felt like I was pulling out my hair so i stopped and just....”

Little-K1ng: “no, i understand the need. i get it. i want to help fetch too and honestly? i would have done the same”

Maxwell: “took a whole one”

Marcus: “...are you okay?

How did that not wake me up”

Little-K1ng: “im. i just. i feel so screwed up about this whole thing.”

Maxwell: “i didnt yell”

Marcus: “...”

Maxwell: “i numbed it with ice and grabbed the scissors

fetch wasnt happy when i told him”

Little-K1ng: “well of course not”

Maxwell: “jack saw it as an experiment”

Marcus: “...you talked to fetch?

Like directly?”

Little-K1ng: “you told him???”

Maxwell: “no he was messaging her”

Little-K1ng: “i dont even tell him when i hide a pill in some cheese for him

wait dont tell him that i said that”

Marcus: “I thought he just gave an update and that’s how you knew about stuff”

Maxwell: “to let us know he wouldnt be home tonight

yeah and i said i knew a way to help heal him”

Marcus: “...”

Maxwell: “he...knew i was gonna do something I shouldnt have

theres still quite a bit left”

Marcus: “....i can see why he would think that”

Maxwell: “it's in a bowl....

....you can use some if you need it”

Little-K1ng: “...........ok. would it be weird. if i drank it

like a little bit

maybe itll?? pick up my mood or something”

Marcus: “What if it cures your migraines”

Maxwell: “i dont know if it works for moods”

Little-K1ng: “god i WISH”

Maxwell: “uh give me a sec”

[Marcus: “What if it cures your migraines”]

Little-K1ng: “MARCUS IF IT DOES THAT IM GIVING YOU TWO THE NOBEL PEACE PRIZE”

Maxwell: “you could try but as far as i remember it wont work

it works for wounds and inflammatory stuff”

Little-K1ng: “damn”

Marcus: “Why would you give it to me-”

Little-K1ng: “yeah ill be honest i maybe do not want the weird rat juice . at least not right now”

Maxwell: “its...flower

i put the petals in a pot and boiled em”

Little-K1ng: “Brain Flower of the Rat is not exactly the most appealing tea flavor, max. with all due respect”

Maxwell: “then i strained them”

Marcus: “Juice of Brain Flower of the Rat then”

Maxwell: “actually tastes slightly like normal water...

if anything slightly sweet

jack said it might taste like rose water”

[Marcus: “Juice of Brain Flower of the Rat then”]

Little-K1ng: “sick new lacroix flavor”

[Maxwell: “jack said it might taste like rose water”]

Little-K1ng: “.....rose water?”

Maxwell: “yeah you boil the roses then strain em into a bowl

like i did with the marigolds”

Little-K1ng: “i like rose water... :/ guess maybe i do want the fucked up rat brain plant water”

Maxwell: “you could try some its not like I cant make more”

Little-K1ng: “....hm !!! dont like that

do not make more rat water”

Maxwell: “....”

Little-K1ng: “i will try some but do not make more”

Marcus: “...please stop calling it rat water?”

Little-K1ng: “marcus?? do you want to try some (Patent Pending) Maxwell Ratatouille's Funky Fresh Brain Tea™️?”

Maxwell: “....

im too tired for this shit”

Little-K1ng: “im coping max.”

Marcus: “....”

Maxwell: “ fair”

Marcus: “I don’t have any injuries?”

Maxwell: “im.....i might go to sleep soon....

who?”

Marcus: “Who?”

Little-K1ng: “we dont have injuries

basically

okay so uh?? bottoms up i guess”

sip sip

sip

Marcus: “..oh wait

My elbow?

Does it work on old injuries?”

Little-K1ng: “uh. hm

it tastes good?”

Maxwell: “oh yeah its burned! it wont get rid of the injury but it might help with any lingering pain?”

Little-K1ng: “it tastes nice actually, the rose water thing was actually accurate

........................................huh

wtf”

kateza affectionate: “I’m gonna head to bed. Stay safe y’all. Much love /p”

Little-K1ng: “gn Kate !

uh

hm. okay”

Maxwell: “hm?”

Marcus: “What Mona?”

Little-K1ng: “so. i may have forgotten to mention out loud to yall but i have some pretty bad joint pain

like, typically, its a mid level pain all the time

and its jsut? less

less pain

thats nice”

Maxwell: “told ya it works!”

Little-K1ng: “it.... does !

dont make more though

ill enjoy this for as long as it lasts but for gods sake max dont pick the laurel for tea”

Marcus: “Please don’t make more rat juice max”

Little-K1ng: “gonna do a rat juice high five marcus

try it??”

Marcus: “I’ll..try just applying it to my elbow”

Little-K1ng: “something something dab joke”

Marcus: “Man you really are tired huh?

Little-K1ng: “i am so tired

work was hard

and i came home, expecting like, the remnants of a fight”

Marcus: “Okay- oh”

Little-K1ng: “only to realize that like, just about every problem for the last 2 days are probably entirely my fault”

Marcus: “Mona”

Little-K1ng: “and i dont actually have it in me to think i actually did anything wrong and i keep getting angry and snapping at people who dont deserve it”

Marcus: “Mona it’s fine

I promise”

Little-K1ng: “<:(”

Maxwell: “you okay marcus”

Little-K1ng: “^this is an incredibly forced frown. again, i dont feel bad”

Maxwell: “the water didnt hurt you right?”

Marcus: “Huh?

Oh

No it’s quite soothing actually”

Little-K1ng: “yeah weird right ??”

Marcus: “A bit”

Little-K1ng: “i WILL physically fight you max if you try to make more though

i will get mad. dont”

Maxwell: “....sorry”

Little-K1ng: “i mean dont be sorry for trying it, that was a good idea

but you've done it once, thats enough”

Marcus: “Please don’t make more max”

Little-K1ng: “for safety reasons”

Marcus: “Yeah”

Little-K1ng: “i dont know how easily those stems get infected

and with how deep they run i really dont want you to find out

i already endangered you all this far, please dont help me do that

guys... you both look so tired”

Maxwell: “you wont endagenr us its fein”

Little-K1ng: “maybe you should go to bed”

Maxwell: “im fien”

Little-K1ng: “sounds like it ,':)

head to the tulips, dormouse :)!”

Maxwell: “fuckign what”

Maxwell: “awwwww i love emas”

Little-K1ng: “do you guys want to sleep in the living room? my bed is pretty huge”

Maxwell: “oh iv emafe a neast on the fllor”

Little-K1ng: “oh perfect, and it looks like marcus is already asleep :) thats okay!! goodnight you guys”

Maxwell: “nihgtn”

[runwiththieves-blog]

I’M GONNA DO A QUICK LIL INTRODUCTION HERE SISTERS! bc i’m lame and new!!! well i’m not new to the fandom etc but this is a fresh blog and this is the first time i’ve ever posted my writings anywhere for the general public (who happens to be searching for harry styles smut) can read it and I’M GEEKIN TBQH!! anyway, hi hello – i have a name, but im gonna let u guys call me T, even tho my name starts w H. H would get too confusing should this work out the way i’m hoping it will! so i’m T. and i like writing and harry styles and so i thought i, along with everyone i scream about H to in the wee hours of the night, would probably find it beneficial if i had blog where i could do that and ppl who actually want to read about how i want him to spit in my mouth! i’ve been a silent lurker of the tags for awhile now (shoutout to @stylesunchained, @permanentcross, @jawllines, @canistay-haz for the inspo behind me finally making this godforsaken blog) (please be my friend) (i’m very intimidated by all of u). so yeah i hope this works out, and if not then it was fun to share this little bit of a something with all of u! and if it does then i’ll likely post a pt 2 to this!  if u like it like/reblog if ur into the kinda thing ig :) also my praise kink is jsut as alive as harrys and my ask box is always open to discuss either one <3

“Pet,” he starts, and you smile, because after a long moment of just standing there and listening to each other breathe, you hear the familiar nickname and know you’ve got him back. “You are the meanest, most stubborn, woman ’ve ever met. Got a bloke full on puttin’ himself out there in front ‘f thousands, 'nd you run away. Same bloke tells ya’ exactly what he means even after that, 'nd ya’ tell me I don’t mean it?” He murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear it. “Tell me how I can prove it to ya’,” he adds before you can get another word in, and he seems to already have a good idea, because his nose is brushing against yours already, but you quickly figure out that it’s going to take you asking for it before he does it, because Harry’s humble, but he has his pride, and you doubt he needs you fucking with it anymore tonight.

“’M going to start screaming if you don’t kiss me in the next three seconds,” you state, and he’s laughing as he presses his lips to yours, his hand cupping your cheek, and it’s gentle and soft and everything you ever imagined kissing Harry for the first time would be like.

And that’s how you die.

or

Harry’s your best friend and then you realize a lot of things, mostly that you’re an idiot

7k+, smut, overuse of the word ‘because’

It’s when you’re sitting on the couch next to him that you have your ’oh god’ moment where you realize that you’re actually really into him.

Harry hasn’t done anything to provoke this. He’s literally just sitting there, being his angel-like self because he can’t help it, it’s just who he is and you’ve accepted that. He’s beautiful and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. But you can feel it down to your toes when you look over to him and your heart nearly leaps out of your chest because he’s already looking at you, like he knows.

“’S wrong, pet? Not in the mood t'cuddle w'me today?” His voice suddenly breaks the comfortable silence you had fallen into, and you feel yourself flush down to your chest because this is Harry calling you out for being weird with him. You’re pretty sure there’s supposed to be at least a three month pining window before he starts to notice.

He’s Harry, though — not megastar Harry Styles, or the Harry his fans have dreamed up in their fantasy worlds where he takes them on luxury getaways whenever he has downtime (you guess they have no idea that he would rather watch romantic comedies and drink wine on the comfort of his own couch). To you, he’s the Harry who held your hair back while you threw up the first night you met at one of Nick’s parties. He’s the Harry who then proceeded to make his home, whenever he got to hangout with Nick and the rest of his friends, right beside you. He’s the Harry who insists that you sleep in his bed with him whenever you’ve had a bit too much to drink (and when you haven’t), instead of crashing on the couch (there are a gazillion fully furnished bedrooms in his house, you’d never have to crash on the couch, but you always crawl into bed with him instead of pointing that out). He’s the Harry who sort of just wiggled his way into your life and heart four years ago and forced you to be his best mate, whether you liked it or not, because he liked you.

So of course he notices when something is off with you. He always has, so you’re not entirely sure why you thought he wouldn’t notice when you went dead silent and put three miles between the two of you, when you had just been curled up against him like you always were on nights like this (and nights not like this, just kind of whenever the two of you were in the general vicinity of each other).

“Jus’ getting t'be a bit sleepy, I think. Think ’m gonna call it a night soon,” you say, and then you spare a glance to the clock on the wall, and it’s barely half ten, and Harry knew damn well that you almost never fell asleep before midnight, and if you did you’d wake up at three in the morning unable to get back to sleep.

The lie seems to do it’s job, though, because he doesn’t press you for further explanation, despite the fact that he’s looking at you in a way that lets you know he knows you’re bullshitting him and he’s bound to find out whatever it is that’s clearly bothering you. It almost feels like a challenge, but you know that this isn’t a game, and Harry gaining knowledge of your newest revelation would change everything, and probably not for the better.

It’s when you’re putting your answer into action that he presses further, because you’re grabbing for your keys, instead of announcing that you’re going to sleep with a kiss to his cheek, or wherever you can reach, and heading up the stairs to his bedroom. “Y'not staying?” He questions, and he’s got a pointed look about his face, and he really looks genuinely concerned, because you’ve never not stayed after a night like this. “’M supposed to meet m'mum for brunch,” you say, and you know it’s a lame excuse, because you’ve stayed over at Harry’s and went to work the next day with no problem. It also doesn’t help that he knows there’s no way your mum isn’t in town, because she would have texted him and made dinner plans a week in advance. They were close like that and you momentarily hate them for it.

He’s looking you over from where he sits and you don’t know if you’ve ever felt more small or intimidated in your life, and all he’s done is look at you. That’s all he’s done all night, really, and you feel like you’re about to claw your way out of your own skin because of it.

The three month pining window would kill you, probably, so scratch that.

“Has anyone ever told you what an awful liar you are? I mean, I know I haven’t, but that’s because you’ve never lied t'me,” he says, and the words send chills all over you skin, because you’ve been maybe not necessarily caught, but he knows there’s something going on, and you don’t know how to get yourself out of this one.

“I’ll cancel,” you finally tell him, accepting defeat, but not admitting to the lie. The fact that there is nothing to cancel isn’t something either of you bring up, even though you both know it.

“Wanna tell me why you’ve been a mile away fr’m me all night, while we’re at it?” He murmurs, and you just shake your head, setting your keys back down on the coffee table and fitting yourself into Harry’s side. “I just didn’t want t'bother you, s'all. You’ve had people all over you for a month now, w'your album 'nd all. Wanted t'give you your space,” you explain, even though you know he’ll see right through that excuse, too, if he really thinks about it, but it’s not nearly as opaque as the brunch thing.

It’s when he calls her cute and tucks her head under his chin that she knows she’s in the clear, for now at least, and she smiles silently. 

—–

You’re in his dressing room helping him get ready for one of his secret shows when it happens again.

It’s nothing different from what you’re usually doing when you get to go to one of his shows, even did it the last couple of years that One Direction toured. You’ve seen all his bits and helped him cover each and every part of them at some point or another, so seeing him without clothes has never had a very strong effect on you (okay, well it did, because you’re human and you’re not blind to the fact that Harry’s gorgeous, but you did a damn good job of hiding it).

And he’s not even naked now, not really — he’s wearing a pair of black boxer briefs, and he’s got his shirt covering his arms, and you’re standing in front of him buttoning (and smirking up at him when he unbuttons one more of the top buttons, even though you know not to even try to start at the top and fix him up proper) from top to bottom, like you always do. It’s become something you just do, no questions asked and for no real reason, because Harry is perfectly capable of buttoning his own shirt. You just like to do it, you suppose, and he’s never had a complaint.

Your fingertips drag across his lower abdomen by accident, before you’ve finished, though, and you swear you feel like your entire body’s on fire, and he hasn’t even touched you.

“I like this shirt,” you tell him as you drag your hands over the fabric covering his tattooed chest to smooth it out. You don’t even know why you said it, it’s like you were trying to distract him from the much more intimate, in your head at least, touch before, even though he probably didn’t even notice or think anything of it if he did.

“’S the ruffles, innit? Makes all the girls wild f'me,” he says, and you know he’s teasing, but his smirk lets you believe for just a moment that he’s flirting with you.

He’s not. It’s something you decide quite easily for the both of you, because it’s easier to shut your brain down that way than let it wonder if, maybe, possibly, he might be feeling everything that you are. You’re a very humble and grounded person, and ironically enough, you pride yourself in being just that. You wouldn’t dare let yourself believe that Harry Styles would ever have any romantic interest in you.

“’S too bad I only care that this one’s wild about it,” he says, kissing your cheek, but it’s so close to your lips, just barely brushing against the corner of your mouth, that you feel dizzy from more than just his statement.

Well. Maybe that changes things little bit.

Because you’re the only one in the room with him, so it’s not like there’s some other girl lurking in the shadows that you didn’t know about. Also, he almost kissed you. Like, really kissed you. Mouth to mouth. Does he know he almost did that? Does he know that you feel like you’re going to pass out the more you think about it? Also, what does that even mean? Why does he only care that you’re 'wild’ about him? There are so many questions and you feel like you’re going to start screaming any second, so you decide a shot of tequila is the best option right now.

–

You’re standing at the side of stage when you realize there’s no coming back from this.

He’s performing 'Woman’ and you don’t think you’ve ever witnessed anything as provocative as this. He’s really into the song, is the thing, and you’re certain he could tell any girl in the building to drop her panties for him, and they would in a heartbeat. You’ll pretend that you aren’t part of that group.

Until he’s looking to the side of the stage, like he’s looking for someone, and once his gaze finds yours and stays there, you realize it’s you that he was looking for.

And oh. Oh.

You are definitely, undeniably part of the Drop-Your-Panties-For-Harry-Styles group. Very much so, indeed. 

He’s got the microphone stand between his legs and he’s practically grinding against it as he just stares at you — he’s been doing that a lot lately, and that’s another one of the many realizations you’ve had in the past week with Harry.

You swear you nearly pass out when he sings the line ’you flower, you feast,’ with the biggest smirk you’ve ever seen before he’s looking back towards the crowd.

And then you have to go. You have to leave and go to his dressing room for the rest of the song, at the very least, because you’re so fucking confused. Where did all of this even come from? Why is he suddenly acting as if he just can’t resist you anymore, like he’s been longing for you this whole time. Was he just lonely? Horny and unwilling to put any effort into finding someone to get his fix with? Was it just a joke? Because the ache in your heart and between your legs was no joke.

You consider leaving the entire establishment when you hear the beginning chords of the last song on the setlist, so that you don’t have to face him afterwards, but instead you find your way back to the side of the stage and watch proudly as your best friend absolutely rips this crowd apart with his talent. You want to cry sometimes because you’re so proud of Harry, you really do. You think you probably will when he heads off on his first headlining tour in a few months. Cry because you’re proud, but also because you’ll be without him for the majority of those three months. The thought tugs at something in your chest, probably your heart, and it makes your eyes sting just for a second, until you’ve pushed the tears off for the moment.

For now, you’re watching on with a smile you just can’t help as he belts out the last few lines of 'Sign of the Times,’ and you want to join in, but you’d die if his microphone were to pick up your awful howling, as well. So, you wait for the end, and then you cheer and scream with the rest of the crowd in front of him. You notice that he spares a glance back at you, and you send him a nod back as you continue your cheering, watching as he practically personally thanks each and every fan in the crowd until the stage has gone dark and the lights in the main establishment have come up, and everyone’s pushing and shoving their way out.

You’re grinning because the star of the whole goddamn show is walking over to you before he is anyone else, and you’re beaming as you wrap your arms around his neck. “You were fucking incredible,” you tell him against his neck, and you take the kiss to the top of your head as an acceptable way to say 'thank you.’

–

It’s when the two of you are back in his dressing room that you feel the tension build again, and you swallow the lump in your throat as you replay his question over and over again: “Where did you go after 'Woman?’”

You want to scream, shout, throw things; not because you’re angry, but because when the hell did Harry get so confrontational? Or was it just something he was doing because you were being noticeably weird with him?You don’t like it at all, despite the fact that you’re always telling him he needs to speak up more. You never meant with you. 

“Had to use the loo,” is the answer you give him, and he cocks an eyebrow at you not a moment after you’ve spoken.

“You feelin’ okay, then? You were gone for four songs after that, and I talk a lot,” he says, and it’s so matter-of-fact that you know he sees right through you, just like he had the other night when you told him you were going to brunch with your mum.

When you don’t say anything for a minute, he presses on, stepping closer to you. “I don’t understand what you’re tryin’ so hard t'hide from me, babe. First the other night, now this — what’s going on?” He questions, and his stare is intense, and it wouldn’t be if were anyone else, but as always, he’s Harry.

“I’m fine, H, just have a lot on m'mind,” you try, feeling absolutely defeated, because try as you might, it really is impossible to lie to Harry, especially when he’s looking at you the way he is. He knows something is up, because you’ve never hidden anything from him. He knew your deepest, darkest secrets three days into your friendship. He knows more about you than any of your exes ever have, and you think that could be part of what scares you so much about him. You feel like if he ever finds out, the chances of you losing him are far greater, and the idea puts a pain in your chest, because what would you ever do without Harry?

You can’t help but miserably stutter and stumble over your words when he asks you who you’ve been thinking about, rather than what, but what catches you even more off guard is him stepping until he’s nearly got you pinned against the wall of his dressing room, and you’re breathing is heavy as you stare up at this beautiful, sweaty boy who just wants to know why you’ve been treating him so differently.

“You’re all I’ve been thinkin’ about, 'f that’s any sort of encouragement,” he tells you, and you want to speak, you do — you want to say something, fucking anything, but you’re frozen and your heart is about to beat right out of your chest.

“You don’t mean that,” is what you say, for whatever reason, and you feel awful as soon as you see the way Harry’s eyebrows furrow and his lips form into a tight line, but he’s not moving away from you at all. If it were possible, you feel like you’re drowning in him even more so.

“I — of course I fucking mean it,” he argues, his eyes unmoving from yours. “I can’t believe you’d fucking say that. Have you not noticed that I spend every bit of free time I have with you? You’re the first and last person I talk to every morning and every night, and the first person I run to when I have news, 'r just something to say. You’re the first person out of everyone I know that I run to after I come off stage — of-fucking-course you’re all I think about,” he says, and although his words are nice and make you feel all warm inside, he sounds angry, and that scares you, because Harry’s never been actually angry with you.

“Harry, I — I’m sorry,” you say, and your voice is nearly a whisper and you feel like crying, because he was honest with you, and you all but said you didn’t believe him, and honestly, how could you be such an idiot? You’ve got the most beautiful man in the world standing in front of you, telling you you’re all he thinks about, and you tell him he doesn’t mean it — who does that?

“I really — I’m so sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean to upset you, I just — it’s kinda’ hard t'believe, innit? That the person you’ve got feelings for has them for you, too?” And you realize there really is no going back after you’ve said that out loud, but hopefully it could fix what’s just happened here if he knows the only reason you said it is because it’s just a tad bit unbelievable.

“Pet,” he starts, and you smile, because after a long moment of just standing there and listening to each other breathe, you hear the familiar nickname and know you’ve got him back. “You are the meanest, most stubborn, woman ’ve ever met. Got a bloke full on puttin’ himself out there in front 'f thousands, 'nd you run away. Same bloke tells ya’ exactly what he means even after that, 'nd ya’ tell me I don’t mean it?” He murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear it. “Tell me how I can prove it to ya’,” he adds before you can get another word in, and he seems to already have a good idea, because his nose is brushing against yours already, but you quickly figure out that it’s going to take you asking for it before he does it, because Harry’s humble, but he has his pride, and you doubt he needs you fucking with it anymore tonight.

“’M going to start screaming if you don’t kiss me in the next three seconds,” you state, and he’s laughing as he presses his lips to yours, his hand cupping your cheek, and it’s gentle and soft and everything you ever imagined kissing Harry for the first time would be like.

And that’s how you die.

–

At least, you thought you were dead because you’re pretty certain Harry’s pillowy soft lips are what Heaven is made out of, and if you were experiencing those, you had to be dead, right?

Except now, he’s got you in the back of a car, and his hand is sliding up your thigh, beneath your skirt, and it’s then, with his lips on yours, that it happens again.

You realize that he’s probably not going to be able to come back from this, either. You don’t know when it happened, or why it seems that you both had the realization that you’re fucking mad about each other at the exact same time (not that it isn’t convenient, it’s just strange), but you’re here with him and it feels like he’s using his mouth to promise a lot more than just a few heated kisses.

You pray that this isn’t just some dare, or an adrenaline thing, because you’d have to be blind or just not paying attention to not see that Harry gets hard each and every time he performs to a crowd. Like, fully erect, you’d noticed, and of course you had always teased him for his evident praise kink (’even the twitter fans know, Harry, it’s not a secret’).

But from the way he’s pulling away to whisper praises in your own ear, about how badly he wants you and all that he wants to do to you, how long he’s wanted to do these things to you, you’re starting to realize that this is very real and you aren’t being fucked with at all.

Well, you will be, hopefully, but in an entirely different sense of the word.

You’ve somehow found your way onto Harry’s lap now, because apparently the silently pining over each other thing did a bang up job of sexually frustrating both of you, so you jumped at the opportunity. If you died in a car accident on the lap of Harry Styles with his tongue down your throat, so be it.

–

It’s only five minutes later when you realize you’ve pulled into the driveway, but it feels like it’s been hours, and your lipstick has gone to hell already, and your shirt is hanging off your shoulders, and so is Harry’s because as it turns out: you’re just as good at unbuttoning his shirts as you are at buttoning them.

Despite your messy states, you both thank the driver as you exit the vehicle, and the rush to get to his front door would be funny to absolutely anyone else, but you don’t think you’ve ever been so desperate to get into bed with someone. Hell, he could get the door opened, closed, and locked again and take you in the corridor and you wouldn’t care. You don’t need a bed, you need his cock. And then you wonder when your self conscious started talking like a porn star.

“Are you goin’ to laugh a'me 'f I try t'dirty talk you?” He asks, and it’s a ridiculous question, because he has no idea how much you’ve fantasized about being the one he’s whispering filth to. “Absolutely not,” is of course your answer, and it’s breathless and you’ve already let your shirt hit the floor, and you’re dropping your skirt at the bottom of the stairs, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties, which are totally cotton and not matching and not sexy at all, but Harry doesn’t seem to care, because he’s pushed his shirt off of his shoulders and is picking you up to carry you up the stairs a second later.

“Take me t'bed, please,” you murmur in his ear, kissing along his jaw with your arms and legs wrapped tight around him. Everything about this is so, so, so urgent and is happening so fast, and you wish you could slow it down, even if only for a second, because it’s all so much, but it’s not enough at the same time. And you kind of want it to be perfect and remember every little thing, as cheesy as that really is.

He’s got you on his bed in no time, though, and you’re practically shaking, because that’s when it happens again. That’s when you realize this is really about to happen. You’re about to fuck your best friend, and the thought should be terrifying, if for no other reason than all that you’re risking in doing so, but you’re smiling up at him as you grasp the nape of his neck and pull him down towards you so that he’s fitting between your legs and his lips are back on yours for the first time since you got out of the car. “Want you,” you whisper against his mouth, and you realize when you press up against him that there’s no foreplay even needed, because you’re already soaked through the fabric of your panties, and you can still feel where he’s been hard since he left the stage tonight.

“’S that — do you want that?” You ask, and it’s sudden and probably sounds ridiculous, considering the situation you’re currently in, but you think it’s an important question to ask. “This, I mean. Me,” you clarify, blinking up at him, and you doubt seriously that he thinks your awkward quirkiness is cute at all right now, no matter how many times he’s implied how adorable you are because of it.

“You’re the most ridiculous person I know,” is his answer, and you’re starting to think you’ve heard more insults tonight than compliments, which is weird because you always thought Harry would be the type to tell you that you’re beautiful and kiss every inch of your skin. Turns out, he’s still just as good at picking at you even when he’s got you pinned to his bed and your lips swollen from kissing him so much. “Yes, I want that. This. You,” he says after a moment, and you’re blushing as he repeats your own words back to you in confirmation.

“I want you to fuck me, Harry,” is the next thing out of your mouth, because apparently filters don’t exist anymore, and he shrugs before shaking his head. “Was hoping t'get my mouth on you first, actually,” he tells you, licking over his lips, and you’d swear it was for dramatic effect, but it was also really ridiculously hot, so you can’t even be mad at him for being a walking cliché.

As much as you want to argue with that, because you want him inside of you now (and you also argue with him about whatever it is he wants to do before you eventually give up and do it), he’s looking at you like he might die if he doesn’t have his mouth on your cunt in the next two minutes. How could you deny him, really? It’d be wrong and unjust. 

Or: you really want his mouth on you, too, but you’re willing to let Harry seem more desperate to please you than you are desperate for him to eat you out, even though you’re certain that’s not the truth by any small means.

You don’t know when he took his pants off or your underwear, you must have missed it, unfortunately, but you’re watching him as he kisses over your thighs, and you feel sort of like you just got to fast forward to the good part. It’s when he licks over you completely and presses harder on the upstroke against your clit that you know that’s what happened.

You don’t know if you moan or if you scream, because you’ve tuned everything that isn’t Harry’s mouth on you and the little noises he makes against you all the way out, and you feel a little bit like you’re floating as he sucks at your clit, and your hands had flown to his hair the second he’d started that.

“Fuck, Harry, please,” you whine, and you don’t even know what you’re asking for, but you know you need more of anything he’s willing to give you. “Taste so good, baby. ’S it feel as good as y'taste?” He murmurs against you, and his voice vibrating against you may be hotter than anything you could possibly think up for him to do to you — and you’ve thought of a lot. All you can do is nod and give his hair a tug, grinding up against his mouth, and you wonder if he notices that you’re practically riding his face while he fucks his tongue into you, licking in and around your entrance, and you could cry from how good he’s making you feel. But also because it’s Harry who is doing this to you.

It’s the Harry who would rather stay in and cuddle with you than go to a party packed with A-listers. It’s Harry, whose preferred method of clearing out a cake batter bowl before putting it in the dishwasher, is the the two of you licking it clean. Harry, who would do anything and everything for you, and never make you feel like it was anything less than what he wanted to do. It’s Harry, and he’s told you a million times how much he loves you, and even if you roll your eyes at the sentiment from time to time, you know he means it, and you always say it back.

“Harry,” you say, looking down to him and the pleasure is almost overwhelming, so it pains you to make him stop, but you just want to be as close to him as humanly possible. He can devour your cunt afterwards, or later, or something. You’ll fit him into your schedule. “I — Harry, up. Come back up here, please,” and your voice is cracking, so you swallow as you look down at him, and you don’t know why you’re near tears, but you definitely are, can feel them welling in your eyes.

“What is it? Did I do something wrong? Are you okay?” He whispers, holding you by your wrists, his thumbs gliding against the skin soothingly. ��Why’re you cryin’, sweetheart? Talk t'me, please,” he murmurs, and he sounds so panicked, and it makes you feel bad because how could he ever think he’s done something wrong? This perfect, wonderful, amazing man hovering over you is clearly unaware of how fantastic he truly is. He’s looking at you with concern in his eyes, and you know he wants to comfort you, especially when you feel the warm tears trickling down your cheeks, because it’s Harry, and he won’t leave your side for hours if he ever catches you crying. Which, you don’t mind so much. But you know he needs his answer now, or he’s going to end up thinking he’s done something wrong, or to hurt you, and it’ll all be over, and you refuse to let that happen.

“No, no, no — ’m fine. Perfect, actually, just — I love you, ’s all,” is what you say, and you give him a watery smile, even when your voice gets a bit quieter and doesn’t sound nearly as rushed there at the end, because you know he knows that, especially now. There’s no way he could ever doubt it, you don’t think. He lets out a throaty laugh as he pushes his hair back where it’s fallen against his forehead, his hands dropping down to yours, holding them tightly as he leans down to kiss you for maybe the hundredth time since you first started about an hour ago, even though it feels like it’s been a lifetime. “I love you, too, you silly girl,” he assures, kissing you once again.

“No, Harry — I mean I really love you,” you murmur, breaking the kiss for a second just to say that, because you need him to know that it’s not just something you’re saying, or even being said in the same sense as you’ve always told each other. He’s looking at you with an amused expression and shaking his head, but in the fond way that doesn’t hurt your feelings. “That’s what I’ve always meant, Y/N,” he confesses, and it hits you like a ton of bricks, because it really feels like everything suddenly makes sense and all is right in the world, a love song is playing in the distance (and it’s not just in your head, so you must have missed when he turned that on, too), all the dumb things that are said in books and movies are happening to you, and you want to appreciate the moment for what it is, but you’re also going to scream if he doesn’t fuck you into his mattress soon. There’s time for talking later.

“Please, please, please fuck me. Now. Please,” and you don’t realize you’re begging for him until you’re begging for him, and it has you blushing down to your chest. “Haven’t even gotten m'dick out yet, 'nd you’re already beggin’ f'me? Love me that much?” He teases, because of course he does, but you look up at him with a new sort of determination your eyes.

You’ve got your hand on the bulge of his briefs not a second later, working over him through the fabric, and it makes your legs spread instinctively when you feel the patch of wet where the head of his cock is pressed against the fabric. It’s then that you decide you’ve had enough, and you’re doing your damnedest to try and push his boxers down. You eventually give up and he laughs and stands to tug them the rest of the way down, and it almost sounds animated, the way you gasp when you see him bare, hard, and leaking for you.

It’s not that you didn’t know Harry was a monster — he’s woken up with enough morning wood pressed against your ass and your thigh for you to be more than completely aware of just what you’re getting yourself into (or what’s getting into you, actually). But knowing it’s all for you and because of you that he’s this hard is a lot to take in.

“Y'still wan’ me?” The question catches you off guard, but you nod almost too enthusiastically for it to be anything other than embarrassing. “Tell me,” is the next thing he says, and your eyebrows knit together in obvious confusion, but your features soften as he lays you back against the bed again and offers more information on what he’s wanting from you exactly. “Tell me how bad you want my cock inside your wet cunt,” he says, and it makes you bite your lip to keep from moaning, just because Harry’s filthy, as it turns out, and your thighs are glistening with how wet you are from it all. “Want it so bad, Harry. Want — wanna’ feel you, please, all of you, every goddamn inch of your cock. Wan’ you t'fuck me until I can’t take anymore,” you whisper, and it seems to have done the trick, because the head of his cock catches on your entrance where he’s sliding between your folds, and you can feel him start to press inside of you.

You really think you could blackout when you feel the whole of him settled snugly inside of you, but it’s not until he starts to move that you have dig your nails into his shoulders and drag them down his back as he fucks back into you. “Fuck me,” you moan, your head tossed back and your hips grinding up against his. It feels so good, is the thing — he’s so big, not just his cock, but everywhere, and he’s got you pinned to the mattress as he drives into you somewhat relentlessly, and he’s stretching you so wonderfully, because he’s thick, too, and it hurts in the best kind of way.

“Wanna’ ride you.” The words leave your lips before you’ve given them permission, but Harry’s smirking at you wickedly, so clearly he’s on board with the idea. You know he is when he’s pulled out of you (and you want to die because of that) and he’s got you on top of himself now and is unhooking your bra. “Feel like I owe your tits a personal apology for not paying attention t'them sooner,” he tells you, and you lean down to kiss his stupid mouth, rocking back over his cock. You tease him like that for a long minute, just grinding against him and feeling him against you, before you’ve decided that you quite miss the feeling of him inside of you.

You start to tell him that, but then it hits you that you’ve got the power now, so you take him into your hand after that, lining him up, and you sink down on him slowly, smiling into the kiss you’re giving him, because you can’t even begin to count the number of times you’ve dreamed of this moment exactly. It feels so good to be fucking yourself on Harry’s cock, and you don’t pass up the opportunity to tell him that this time. It makes him groan as he stares up at where you’re properly bouncing on him, and you notice when his eyes drop down to watch where he’s fucking in and out of your pussy, and you swear you feel him twitch inside of you at the sight. “Takin’ me so well,” he praises, and apparently you’ve got a bit of a praise kink, as well, and you throw your head back when you feel him begin to thrust up into you, the head of him nudging against your most sensitive part each time. “Harry, fuck,” you breathe, your fingers curling and nails digging into his chest.

You’re so torn between wanting to kiss him and wanting to hear everything he has to say, that you’ve settled for just kissing his neck and his jaw, leaving a lovebite or two in your wake, listening while he tells you how beautiful you are (you were right, he is into that), how good you feel, how you’re going to make him cum, and God — you hadn’t even allowed the reality of that sink in yet. Through all of this, you had completely forgotten that you had a goal, something you wanted to accomplish, because all you’ve wanted is to be as close as possible to him this whole time.

Now, however, you really want to make him cum, and you want it inside you (you’re very much on birth control and if you were to get pregnant, having a baby with Harry wouldn’t be the end of the world, and he wouldn’t be the first former member of One Direction to become a father). “Want you t'cum inside me, yeah? Fill me up,” you tell him, and you feel it when his grip on your hips tightens and he helps you fuck yourself over him faster. “Not until you cum on my cock,” he replies, and you clench around him at that, fucking down harder each time. “Need y'to touch me,” you whisper, grabbing for his wrist and guiding his hand towards your clit, “here.”

Your moans get louder the second he presses the pads of his fingers to your clit, rocking your hips harder, with more determination to get off. “I wanna cum,” you whine, and you want it so bad, now that you’ve remembered that’s part of all of this, that you could cry. You were a bit spoiled when it comes to getting your with Harry, you could say, because his fingers are quick and just right on your little bundle of nerves, rubbing in tight circles and applying just enough pressure. “Know y'wanna cum, baby. Wan’ y'to. Wanna feel y'squeezin’ me,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing over your ear. “Can y'do that f'me, angel? Come for me,” he continues, but his voice is so low and he sounds just as wrecked as you feel, and you can feel his lips brushing your skin as he speaks.

And then you’re pretty fucking sure you did, in fact, die this time.

Everything goes black, your lips parted in a silent scream, but not because you’re not trying, but everything feels too fucking good and you can’t even make a sound, aside from the pathetic sobs you’re letting out into his shoulders. You can feel your cunt pulsing around him, your clit throbbing beneath his fingers, and you’re sure he’s drenched with you, but it evens out because you feel him releasing inside you not even a minute later.

This time you moan his name, grinding yourself on his cock while he empties himself inside of you, fucking him through his orgasm, despite how tired and sensitive you are, praising him and thanking him with each and every movement, milking him for all he’s worth as you listen intently to the string of curses and your name falling from his lips.

You feel him dripping down your thighs the moment you slide off of his cock, but you only move to straddle the lower part of his torso, making a mess of his abs, and you can’t begin to explain how little care about that when you lean down to kiss him. “Thank you,” you whisper, and you don’t know why you say it, but it feels like something that needs to be said, because you are thankful for everything that’s just happened.

“I love you,” is his response, a smile tugging the corners of his lips up, and you can’t help but kiss him again. “For how long?” You question, and you’re about to explain what you mean, because you just want to know how long he’s known he loved you, like this, but he answers you with “probably forever” before you can elaborate, and it makes your heart skip a beat. He’s decided to answer the question in the ‘how long are you going to love me’ sense, you realize.

You blink down at him, like you’re surprised, but he’s just wearing his signature smirk and you feel a bit lightheaded. He seems so sure of everything he’s told you in the last day or so, and it’s so scary, but it makes you wonder how long he’s felt this way and how he figured out that you finally realized that you felt this way, too. Was he sitting on the couch beside you, staring at you instead of paying attention to The Great British Bake Off, too?

“How’d you figure out that I was just cranky ‘cos I realized ‘m in love w’you?” Is the next question you ask, and he shrugs, staring up at you and letting his fingertips drifts over your skin. “Jus’ know you, baby,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “‘Nd I remembered how red y’had gotten when y’mum told y’that we’d end up t’gether, ‘nd then y’started tryin’ t’push me away, ‘nd I knew you’d realized she was right. Plus, I did the same bit t’you when I realized. Remember when I’d hardly talk t’ya’ when I was in Jamaica? Wasn’t just ‘cos I needed t’focus on m’album,” he explains, and you laugh, because everything really does make sense now. 

You’re laying down beside him, curled into his side in what has always been your favorite position when you speak again. “I love you, too,“ you nearly whisper, and you’ve got a smile curling your lips, your hand wrapped around his wrist and your other arm slung over his chest where you’re resting your chin to look up at him. “Probably forever.”