#if you get enough you can loop back around to having a positive balance again

[leonsrightarm]

me: i'll keep working after one ror2 run

the ror2 run:

[authorhjk1]

Well you probably already have a list so maybe next time

Beautiful, easy access, elegant. Perfectly accurate descriptions to both the dresses and the idols who are wearing them

Just long enough that it wouldn't catch suspicion but short enough for you to...🤭

The dazzling jewellery no longer deserves your attention when they spread their legs. Proving they are always ready Did they also sponsore those toys?. A packet of lube is even meticulously hidden inside the inner layer should you really need the assistance.

Those high heels angling their butts just the right amount. Allowing deeper penetration even when standing.

The clacking noise of the heels hitting the the floor, losing balance when their legs couldn't support them (until you yank her upright against you body) triggers a positive feedback loop that taps into your most carnal desire, urging you to thrust deeper and harder.

Well probably don't reply to this ask since this ask is way too long 😂 If you ever want to do something with this I recommend creating a new post instead

Cream

(An Yujin X Jang Wonyoung X Male Reader)

You hear someone walk towards you, the clicking of their heels echoing through the hallway.

You didn't expect her to come. But then again, she doesn't really have a choice. An Yujin rounds the corner, her angry glare is directed at you.

"Swear to me that this is a one time thing."

You shrug your shoulders.

"Depends on how well you do."

"I..."

Yujin seems to slowly accept her fate.

"Fine."

"Let me see it."

You can't really hide your curiosity. You told her to wear it, but she didn't send you a picture as proof, like she was supposed to.

With an annoyed sigh, Yujin turns her back to you. You marvel at how beautiful she looks in that dress.

A heavy breath and Yujin pulls her dress to the side. You're greeted with the sight of her butt. Her round cheeks hide something between them. When Yujin pulls them apart, you can see the metal buttplug you told her to buy and wear.

"I-I don't want to do this."

Yujin turns back around to face you, letting her dress fall in place again.

"You don't have a choice Yujin."

You remind her of the pictures.

"Is there really no other way? I-I could give you something. Anything you want. Money, or..."

There is not enough money in the world to match the chance of experiencing the tightness of Yujin's ass. But there is something else...

"Or maybe house, or a car, or..."

"Your members."

"Huh? W-What?"

Yujin looks at you with wide open eyes.

"Convince Wonyoung to suck me off. Or I fuck your ass."

You watch her inner conflict. This is an impossible choice for her. Yujin doesn't want throw her member, her friend, under the bus. But she also doesn't want to lose her anal virgnity to some stranger.

A couple of minutes later, you hear someone walking towards you again.

"Yujin unnie, you sounded worried, are you okay? Who is that?"

Yujin takes a deep breath and you can tell she is almost about to cry.

"Wonyoung, can you do something for me? He... He has pictures of me. Bad pictures. If you... If you just..."

Yujin takes a shakey breath.

"What pictures?"

"Doesn't matter."

Yujjn's cheeks turn red with shame.

"He said he is going to publish them, if you don't..."

She looks at your crotch. Wonyoung, very slowly, follows her stare.

"N-No, I couldn't! I don't even know him!"

"P-Please, Wonyoung. D-Do it for me?"

Yujin sounds as desperate as she looks.

"It's... It's a blowjob."

She swallows hard, before looking at your face.

"Right? Nothing more."

You nod and Wonyoung looks at both of you.

"Is this a prank? I don't..."

You are aware that Yujin left out the fact that there is an alternative. But you don't mind which of the two you get to use.

"Fine. I will do it, then."

Once Wonyoung agrees, you motion her towards you. You can't believe you're actually going to be inside this pretty little mouth of hers.

You push her to her knees and rid yourself off your pants. Wonyoung's eyes grow wide in fear as she sees your cock. It's bigger than she expected. She never actually...

She takes a deep breath and parts her lips. As they touch your cock, Yujin turns away.

"Oh my god."

You hear her sob, as the younger girl wraps her fingers around your base.

"Good girl."

You praise Wonyoung, putting your hand on the tie in her hair. She looks up at you, the disgust on her face is barely visible with your cock in her mouth.

"If you don't act like you like it..."

You let the thread hang in the air as you take out your phone.

Thinking that you're about to release her leader's pictures, Wonyoung starts to get into it. Or at least she pretends to.

Her lips quickly glide along your length. She moves her head back and forth. Wonyoung can only reach the halfway mark, before she chokes. You push her a little further everytime.

You can't believe that this beautiful woman is giving you head. That beautiful face. Those beautiful lips.

The shutter of your phone camera makes both of them look at you.

"What..."

Wonyoung lets your cock fall out of her mouth as she looks up at you with wide eyes.

"What are you doing?"

Yujjn's angry and surprised tone makes you chuckle.

"What? This is how we ended up here in the first place, didn't we?"

With your hand still on the back of her head, you pull Wonyoung back onto your cock. You hear her choke as you talk again.

"If you don't want me to release the picture of your bandmate, sucking my cock, I suggest you get that pretty ass over here."

Yujin's eyes widen in realization.

"Y-You planned this!"

It took a while, but now you've pulled the buttplug out of Yujin's asshole. Wonyoung is still in the room, unable to look away as you press Yujin against the wall.

"Time to make you mine."

Yujin shudders at your words.

You slowly push into her. The lube, you told her to bring, helps, but it's not exactly easy. But eventually, you part Yujin's walls enough, so you can fuck her properly. Not very fast and hard, but still...

A feeling of a lifetime.

Yujin sighs and groans in pain, whenever you push into her. And an embarrassed moan escapes her lips, whenever you pull out. You feel like you're in heaven. Her ring of muscles clings onto you while you slide in and out of her. Her sparkling heels put her ass in the right height and angle for you, to drive yourself as deep as possible into her hole.

Eventually though, Yujin's asshole is too tight for you to fight off your incoming orgasm.

"Come here, Wonyoung."

You make both girls kneel in front of you as you stroke yourself. Both of their faces are enough to make you climax within seconds. Your cum hits their faces, staining their skin and ruining their makeup. A string of your cum hit Yujin's eye, gluing it shut, while half of Wonyoung's share lands on her cute nose.

The sound of your phone's camera makes both of them shiver in fear.

"What's the password for Ive's official Instagram account?"

[alkali1]

Belly Attendant 3: Delivery Pt 1

The next morning you awaken to Naia whimpering and moaning through a strong contraction, her womb quivering and rolling under your fingertips. Her contractions picked up in frequency and intensity over night, and you figure that sometime today she'll have to push out the overgrown centaur foal. "Oh god, my hips are so sore. Maybe I overdid it last night" Naia whines. "Your body was probably telling you to help loosen them up and get things moving." You respond, pressing your hands deep into her plush buttocks to provide soothing counterpressure to her strained pelvis.

You cuddle for hours, keeping her milked, fed, and pleasured, as the contractions slowly dilate her. You pay special attention to her sore pelvis, spending lots of time squeezing her fat birthing hips as she struggles with the pain of them opening up to pass the overdeveloped surrogate foal. With the help of her magical weightbearing harness, you ease her into whatever positions her body urges her to take. A semi-squat on the edge of the bed is perfect for burying your face between her plump thighs and making her gasp and moan in pleasure for an hour. Wiping off your face, you check her dilation again. "15 centimeters. But it still feels like you have a ways to go." Privately you wonder what the absolute maximum diameter is that she can possibly stretch to. Having to go beyond 10 is rare for her, only needed for the absolute largest of her surrogate children, and this foal is large enough to really push her limits.

After laboring all day, it's now early evening. When you sense her energy and willpower flagging you wipe the sweat from her brow and pepper her face with kisses, whispering loving reassurances to her. "Oh God, I feel like I'm about to hit transition." she moans. "Should we get you to the birth chamber?" you ask. "Ooh, not quite yet" she moans, grabbing your hand and pulling it towards her needy cunt. You finger her clit, feeling her thighs squeezing desperately around your arm, while kissing and worshiping her heaving, lopsided belly. She cums hard after only a few minutes, but her moans of pleasure are soon replaced by pain as she feels something deep and low inside her shift. "Get me to the birthing room, now. I need to walk to get this foal positioned right." You hold her arm and arm, helping her balance as she slowly waddles through the temple halls. Each contraction makes her stop and let loose guttural screams of discomfort and pain. She realizes that the baby is malpositioned, and the too-large head is jammed awkwardly against her back. You provide as much counterpressure as you can in the small of her back but it seems to do very little to help with the crushing pain.

"This is the worst back labor I've had since that stubborn half-giant a few years ago. It feels like my spine is going to pop out of alignment."

The contractions get stronger and closer together as her womb attempts to squeeze the awkwardly angled head through her painfully stretched cervix. She's barely able to waddle for 30 seconds between each one before instinctively dropping into a wide squat, clutching desperately at her poor hips while pushing furiously. Even with the harness it's difficult for you to heave her back upright. You finally make to to the chamber when her water bursts dramatically, soaking the tiled floor and your shoes. Without the cushioning bag of fluid the head is able to align well enough with her birth canal for her pushes to start to make progress.

You get her lying down on the room's mattress, on her side with one plump leg hiked up as far as she can, resting in a loop of fabric dangling from the ceiling. You push your arm into her darkly swollen pussy to check her, and feel a cervical lip impeding her progress. You gently, manually stretch her cervix during her pushes, feeling the cannonball-sized head bulging forward millimeters at a time.

Elves have the unique ability for their pelvic ligaments to stretch like rubber, a necessity for a race that carries babies for 36 to 40 months. After two hours of pushing, her hip bones have separated several inches, just barely enough for the foal's human head to start squeezing its way between.

"I can't stretch any more!" she whines, "It's so big!" "You're doing such a great job, honey. I know this is a big one but it's nothing you can't handle."

She pleads for you to help her into the ceiling harness: a device similar to her magical belly support belt. It allows birthing surrogates to be suspended semi-weightlessly with their body supported, to allow for a greater variety of birthing positions. You strap her in and hoist her up so she's lying on top of her belly, which still touches the ground. You help her pull her legs forward to open up her hips. Finally, her desperate, grunting pushes are starting to force the oversized head through her separated hips. Her pussy starts to get puffy and bulgy, a sliver of hair visible deep within her folds. "Oh god I can feel it, it's way too big!" Petting her belly and covering her in tender kisses, you reassure her that it isn't, that she's going to be able to do this. Privately, you're starting to have your doubts. The horse half is going to be wider than the head, will it get stuck in her straining, creaking pelvis? You quickly tap out a magic message to the temple abbot, letting her know that Naia is having a difficult birth, and to remain on standby to provide auxiliary support if needed.

You work soothing oil into her swollen pussy, magically infused to help her stretch beyond her natural capacity. Though it may help her stretch, it does almost nothing to help with the pain of being spread and stretched around a 70 pound centaur. You can tell the burning pain is unbearable for her. She lets out a high pitched shriek of "Noooooooo!" with the push that parts her tender lips around the beginnings of the massive crown.

"Oh my god it burns so bad! Please get me to the pool now!" she cries out. You move the harness over the room's hot-spring fed birthing pool, lowering her in and unstrapping her swollen body from the uncomfortably tight fabric. Kneeling down behind her, you run your finger around the tight rim of her cunt. She's stretched tighter than she has been in months, and the head is still not even at its widest point.

You start to worry that she could tear. With one hand, you brace her perineum, and with the other, you press down on her clit, reassuring her that she's not going to rip, that she just needs a little extra time to stretch. You help coach her through panting away the contractions, fighting the urge to push to let her body work at the pace it needs to. But no extra stretch is forthcoming, even as you hold the head in place for over half an hour. You painstakingly manipulate her achingly tight lips a millimeter at a time, gradually pulling them back around the hard surface of the head, easing it out of her without letting her tear. Finally, with a guttural shriek from Naia, it squirts forward on its own, finally fully crowned. But you both know that the hardest part is still to come: the horse body.

[littleslithewhump]

Day 27 and 28- stress position and fingering (I’m switching the prompts for the 28th and 29th! This pair just fit together a little bit better for one post, I thought. Ty ily).

V can hardly stand to look at himself in the mirror. Humiliated in the suit, his vulnerable privates hanging out in the open, his mouth stretched far enough that it makes his jaw ache. His shoulder soon makes most of that fade, however, the pain making shame fade to a small tamping down of whatever fight V has had inside him. . 

Until his captor comes downstairs and loosens him, forcing him to his knees to take him in his mouth. V feels his mind detach from him, the discomfort of deep-throating buzzing into background noise. It’s odd but, in a way, freeing as he looks at the objectified version of his body being face-fucked. It feels separate from himself. As he looks at it all, he kind of hopes it keeps happening–that he can somehow look at all this from a bird’s-eye-view, that his mind will slowly drift farther and farther from the ruin of his body until, maybe, he disconnects completely. Goes offline. Though perhaps that is simply dying. 

He’s brought back when his captor tosses him to the side, and the pain newly anchors him back to himself. 

“Get out of that gimp suit, pet.” 

His captor marches back upstairs. It’s an uncomfortable, damp struggle to follow his command, even as it’s a kind of relief, particularly as he can give his jaw a break. The sweat on his limbs makes it feel as though he will freeze in the chilly basement air. He has to twist oddly to reach each zipper, each lace tie. 

Naked again, shivering and avoiding his own face in the mirror. 

His captor grimaces when he touches V’s sweaty skin, and pulls V upright to manacle one wrist to the ceiling and–V’s shivering harder as soon as he sees it–points the hose toward him.

The cold feels like a slap, and V feels himself yell before he can stop himself, trying to cringe away from the freezing water. 

“I was good! I was good!”

The water continues, rinsing off sweat and semen and blood. But his captor steps closer. 

“You were good, were you? You take six men’s dicks and you think you were good?”

V feels tears leak at the corner of his eyes, unsure if they’re coming from the cold or from fear. 

His captor holds the hose up to his nostril, grabbing him by the neck with his other hand until V sputters and coughs. 

“Barely even struggled against them. I bet you even forgot you were my pet.” 

“No–I–I’m yours–” 

His captor drops the hose at his feet, walking over to switch it off. V could cry for the unfairness of it, if his teeth would stop chattering. “I–I–didn’t want–” 

“Shut up, you ungrateful shitstain.” 

Rope presses between V’s teeth, the braided surface brushing his tongue. “Hold that for me, pet,” he says. 

V tries his best to, even as his shivering makes him have to focus all of his attention on it. 

His captor frees his arm from the ceiling, and cuffs his wrists behind his back, pulling up until V falls to his knees, his shoulder sparking horribly. He cries out, dropping the rope from his mouth. 

“Can’t even follow simple fucking commands. I told you to do one. Goddamn. Thing.” 

 His captor wrenches his arms up, and V screams. His shoulder. God, his shoulder. It feels like white hot irons are driving through the joint. 

His captor pushes him completely off balance, forcing him to lie facedown on the damp floor. 

His captor ties a loop around his neck. Not a noose. Just a simple loop with the ends of the rope fed through. He pulls it taut, however, and V feels a surge of panic.  

“Please–please stop–please, I’ll do whatever you want–” 

His captor doesn’t seem to listen, just hoists the rope around the hook on the ceiling and back down, tying the rope ends around the cuffs. 

It’s a sinister cornering. If V tries to give his shoulders a break, let his hands fall to his back, his neck is wrenched up brutally, torturing his spine and making breathing seem almost impossible. If he tries to lean his head down, his shoulders scream at him. All while he feels ice cold water under his stomach, on his genitals. 

He’s somehow screaming and sobbing at the same time, his throat shredding under the pressure. 

His captor doesn’t pay that any mind. He just belts his ankles to his thighs, though, a vicious frog tie on both sides to prevent V from trying to get to his knees, to give himself a break.

There’s nothing but now. Just pain, white and red and searing and lonely, somewhere that’s hot and freezing at the same time. V tries to catch his breath. He tries. He tries…

All he seems to be right now, right now, is his shoulder, pulling and pulling at the meat of itself until V hopes that finally, finally, someone will hear him, someone will hear him and save him or at least be with him, will tell him that he’s not alone, that this agony will ease or someone will bear it with him or someone will, at least, witness his own body tear himself apart.   

–

I let him sit for an hour, tapping my fingers on the table, drinking and eating a meal, pretending to enjoy it when I’m just seething at images of my so-called friends, soft little men in the kink community who are too fucking oblivious to notice that I’m not one of them. That my pet is my pet in a way that their little dog boys can never be theirs. That they think they can touch him without consequences. 

There will be. There fucking will be. Once, of course, I’m done getting him back in line. 

I was good. 

Such a stupid, stupid thing for him to say. For him to think he was good when I let him be used. 

I recall feeling the same the last time we partied, his ass and mouth filled, his lithe body strapped to the bench. But at least they beat him that time. Gave him the punishments that they knew they should. And I fucked him so good after that he begged for me.

He should beg for me now.

I knock down the rest of my whiskey. The ungrateful little slut. 

Only his screams, agonized and broken, finally calm me.

I descend again, throbbing immediately as I see him red, sweating and soaked, his own body torturing him into submission. 

I jam a toe under his chin, forcing him to look up at me. His face is a mess of snot and tears, of new rope burn just under his jaw.

“Are you done, pet?”

He just sobs, pathetic, broken. I don’t even know if he understands me. If he’s been driven feral by sheer pain.

“I’ll be kind and take that as a yes.” 

I unhook him, taking him out of his predicament. 

He shudders on the floor, and I feel a rush of warmth to my cock, looking at his supine body on the wet cement. 

I crouch next to him. Jam my fingers in his mouth. “Lick them, pet.”

He does, thoughtlessly lapping at me like I’m his last fucking meal. Crying and licking like a dog. 

I wrench them from his mouth and immediately shove one up his ass. He cries out so pitifully. It’s…delicious. 

“You’re stupid, aren’t you? Stupid little animal. Only good at obeying me.” 

He’s wiggling against his bonds, wiggling against my finger. So I add another, barely slick enough from his spit to not chafe his hole.  

“Answer me, pet.”  I pump my fingers in and out. 

He yelps, but tries–tries to stammer out a yes, god, yes, he’s stupid, he’s stupid–

I finger him with more force, relishing his twitches and pathetic little noises, the ropes tight over old bruises. 

“Beg me for it.” 

His pleas come without any struggle this time. Without even his usual idiotic stammer. 

“Beg me to fuck you.” 

I punch my fingers into him. He obeys, begging between breaths for me to fuck him, to take him, to finish inside or on him or–

I move my fingers even faster. 

“Beg me to hurt you.” 

He’s gasping from my ministrations. Gasping too fast and hard to answer promptly. 

I slap his ass. “Little whore. Beg me to hurt you.”

He’s hard against the dirt floor, I know: strung out and squirming. Whimpering as I continue to finger him. 

“Please…please hurt me. I want you to hurt me. I want you to beat me. I want…you. You to hurt me.” A wet sob escapes his sore throat as I curl my fingers inside him, holding still, asking him the question that matters most. 

“What do you want, pet?”

His inhales are shaky. 

“Please don’t…don’t leave me alone again,”  he whispers.

I smile, even though I know he can't see.

“I won’t, pet.”

Taglist:

@whumped-by-glitter

[f1-birb]

25 pando

25. my love is your arm stuck in the claw machine. you were going to steal that prize for me?? oh my gosh. let me rescue you and also show you how to actually do this

This is definitely not one of his finer moments, Pierre thinks.

He twists slightly, putting more of his weight onto his leg and easing out some of the tension in his shoulder. He's so close to sitting down, he can feel his hip just grazing the floor, but trying to sink the extra few centimetres needed pinches his arm and he lets out a quiet curse.

That hurt, he thinks, that really hurt, no sitting.

His back pocket vibrates and he groans. It makes sense, he has definitely been gone for longer than he said he'd be, but he really doesn't want to have to confess as to the reason why. He balances carefully, pulling his phone out of his pocket and swiping at the screen.

Where r u????

He must not reply quickly enough for Alex's liking, since a second text comes through straight away.

I'm coming to find u

Pierre knocks his head against the machine and texts back. He's immediately sent a string of laughing emojis and then he hears the real thing.

Alex leans against the arcade machine that had been hiding him, one hand on a knee and the other wiping at tears. "Oh mate."

"Shut up." He hisses but there's no real venom. There can't be, Pierre knows he looks like an idiot.

"Let me take a picture and then I'll help you."

"Alex!" Pierre glares at him, and it must make the picture even funnier when his friend cracks up again. He watches as Alex takes a deep breath, raising an eyebrow when a few more giggles escape as he kneels down to help.

"Sorry sorry, I couldn't resist."

It quickly becomes clear that Pierre is very much stuck, when between the two of them they barely shift his arm an inch where it's stuck inside the claw machine. If anything, the situation is worse, the new position pinching even more at his elbow and his skin stinging where he's sure he's been scratched. The sound of approaching voices has him banging his head against the machine again.

"What are you two doing?" Pierre doesn't need to look to hear George's raised eyebrow.

"Someone got stuck." Alex replies far too cheerily, and Pierre kicks him. "Ouch! You are stuck, I'm stating facts."

It's Lando's laugh that grab his attention, pulling away from hiding his face against the machine and looking at where his boyfriend stands with Charles' arm wrapped around his shoulders, the two of them giggling. Lando's eyes are crinkled at the edges, long lashes making it almost impossible to see the colour of them, and his pointy canines are on display with how wide his grin is. Pierre's never seen anything cuter.

It almost makes it worth being stuck in a claw machine. Almost.

“Just help me.”

Alex takes a step back, holding up his hands and Lily rolls her eyes, pulling him out of the way. George crouches to take a look, but doesn't get any further than Alex did, although Pierre is grateful that the sharp pinch around his elbow has disappeared. Charles is too busy taking more embarrassing photos to help free him, which leaves him with his boyfriend.

Lando tilts his head, biting at his lip as he makes his assessment. He kneels down, hands gentle where they reach into the machine and start pressing against Pierre's arm. There's a flash of pain, and he winces, but then Lando’s holding his hand as he sinks back to sit on his heels.

“He's been freed!” Alex cheers, letting out a soft ‘oof’ when Lily elbows him.

“Are you okay?” Lando asks softly, and Pierre squeezes his hand. “You're not hurt are you?”

“Only my pride.” He laughs, and sees the way the others slowly drift back towards the centre of the arcade to give them privacy. He squeezes Lando’s hand again, smiling warmly when Lando shifts to sit next to him, using their joined hands to loop Pierre’s arm around his shoulders.

“Good. Why were you even stuck in the first place? Why did you come back to the machine?”

Pierre feels the heat rise in his cheeks, the flush crawling across his face to his ears. He won't lie though, never to Lando, and he keeps his eyes averted as he answers. “Because you really wanted the mini IKEA shark. You were so disappointed earlier when we couldn't get it, so I thought I could sneak back here, win it and surprise you.”

He braves looking at Lando’s face, and all he sees is love reflected back at him. Lando’s eyes, the swirling blend of blue and green that shifts with the light, are so warm and affection-filled that he can't even feel embarrassed about being found with his arm stuck inside an arcade game.

“I love you.” Lando says softly. “I kind of love you a lot.”

He grins, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to Lando’s lips. “I kind of love you a lot too.”

Lando giggles and nothing else matters. Then he remembers.

“Your shark is still in there by the way. I grabbed it, and it stayed grabbed but when it dropped in the prize bit it got stuck.”

“Oh.” Lando chirps, and Pierre watches as he doesn't hesitate to stick his arm into the claw machine.

“Lanno!”

“It's fine, I'm literally an expert. Oli used to have me do this all the time when things didn't drop all the way because I was so small. I know the tricks, don't worry.”

True to his word, in under a minute Lando is pulling his arm out of the machine, the tail of his shark clutched in his hand. He flips it around, hugging it to his chest as he stands, and then he's beaming at Pierre as he offers him a hand to help him up.

Once on his feet he finds himself with an armful of Lando, the shark sandwiched between them, and he can't help but press a few kisses into Lando’s curls. “Come on, let's go find the others, I know Charlie said something about bowling and I need to get my dignity back.”

Lando laughs, high and light, and he presses a kiss to Pierre’s jaw as they walk. “Don't worry, babe, me and Pear will cheer you on.”

“You're naming him Pear?”

“Uh yeah, after my favourite person of course.” Lando rolls his eyes as if the reason should have been obvious, nudging him in the ribs and tilting his head back to aim a smile at him.

“I really do kind of love you a lot.” He says.

“I know, you got stuck in a claw machine for me.”

I am so sorry this took so long for me to get round to but hey it also ended up a lot longer soooo...

Ao3 link

[hamsolo]

☄️

(note: Star Wars and any recognizable characters/ settings/ ideas do NOT belong to me.)

Thank you for your patience with this! I hope it was worth the wait!

send me an emoji and I’ll write you as a SW character

"Master Ty, watch your back!" Lasers rain down from above. Dank ferrik! These droids may be dumb but there are so many of them.

"Watch your back Jekk, "I shoot back over my shoulder. This supposed diplomatic mission to Teth has proven to be a whole string of worst-case scenarios. "Agghh!" The laser cut my tunic at the shoulder I hissed at the pain and the smell of burnt flesh. Dumb but decent marksmen.

"Master!"

"I'm fine, get down!" More lasers shot across the rubble in the middle of the street.

Jekk looks like he wants to say something else but another barrage of laser fire descends upon the rubble we're hiding behind. And in the distance, a thermal detonator goes off. A couple beats later, droid parts fly in nearly every direction. One of them attempts to call for backup.

"Master." He tries again.

"Get down! I'm fine," I wince. Force powers can be finicky at the best of times. But in the middle of a battlefield with flying droid parts, blaster bolts, and laser fire?

"But-."

"Shhh...I'm nearly done." With another flick of my wrist the last bit of flesh stitches together. There'll be a scar but what's another one among the dozens I already have?

Boom! Another detonator hits, this time it's closer. Much closer. A statue on the side of the building above breaks clean off of its base and hurtles towards us. Blood pounding my ears, I'm frozen. Rooted to the spot. Thoughts ricochet around my head at lightspeed. If only I hadn't healed myself, if only...

"Master!" Jekk, wonderful Jekk is diverting the statue elsewhere. the motions are fluid and natural. I'm proud and I open my mouth to speak...

"No time, Master! We have to get out of here!" Looping an arm around me, we both get to our feet. He's right, a platoon of battle droids is moving through with heavy artillery.

Igniting our lightsabers, we join the half a dozen or so Jedi left. Blue blades alternatively deflecting the blaster fire and cutting down droids.

Eventually, we convene with the other Jedi and continue to hold the droid army as best as possible.

Swinging and slicing through droids, darting behind fallen architecture. Slowly converging on the city center. Not making a whole lot of progress in an afternoon.

Another break behind a fallen column has half of us wheezing and bent over, hands on knees. And the other half diverting attacks with the Force or lightsabers.

"Master?" Jekk gasps.

"Yes?"

"What...if...we...use the Force to stop them?" he pants.

My mind is figuring out what he means when Shaak Ti gives a thoughtful hum next to me. "It would have to be all of us together, it has to be timed exactly right. But! It could work."

Master Windu nods in agreement, "Good thinking, young one. Containing them not with force but with the Force." He gives Jekk a small but sincere smile.

Jekk's face grows red and I beam with pride. "Let's get to work."

In the few seconds of ceasefire before the heavy artillery is reloaded all the Jedi regroup behind the rubble and the plan is set. With little time to put the plan into action, we work fast.

Now that we've reached the city center, the plan will fall into place with ease. Using the Force, each Jedi and Padawan slips through the shadows or archways, balconies, and alleys to take their position.

I'm barely in place before the droids advance creeping closer to the center of the square. I can feel the vibrations of the Force. The individual vibrations weave together and flow with certainty. I can practically see waves of light ensnaring the enemy.

The trick was to ensnare the droids but not too much all at once. You have to find a balance. Surround them just enough so as contain but not some much as to make it obvious and delay their attack...

C'mon...engage your weapons... We were all thinking the same thing I was sure. I could feel Jekk practically screaming it. At any other point in the battle, time slipped by and actions went by in a blur But now, now the time seemed to stretch and drag.

Then, a shell ejects from a tank, and the army is engulfed in a ball of fire and smoke.

Success! Relief washes over all of us. We did it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dust finally begins to clear and Jekk stands, looking up at the sky. "Do you think the negotiations will be successful, Master?"

I follow his gaze skywards toward Naboo where the Trade Federation ships are clustered.

"We have to trust in Master Jinn and his padawan, just as we trust in the Force."

"May the Force be with them," Jekk whispers.

[coodix]

The Best Resistance Band Workouts To Help You Lose Weight

Anyway, what is accepted and accepted by people is resistance bands workout for weight loss.

Resistance band workouts are becoming more and more popular, especially as a way to get in shape. They’re simple to do, can be done at home, and don’t require a lot of equipment. That makes them perfect for people on the go or people who don’t have much room to work out. But resistance band workouts aren’t just for weight loss. They also offer a host of other benefits, such as improved balance and coordination, stronger muscles, and even better cardiovascular health. In this blog post, we will provide you with the best resistance band workouts to help you lose weight. From beginner-friendly exercises to harder ones that will really challenge your body, read on to find the workout that’s right for you.

The Best Resistance Band Workouts for Women

Resistance band workouts are a great way to work your entire body, without leaving the comfort of your own home. Women tend to be more flexible than men, so resistance band workouts can be tailored specifically for them. Resistance band workouts can help you lose weight, tone your muscles, and improve your balance. Here are four popular resistance band workouts for women: 1. The Couch to 5k Workout: This workout is designed to help you transition from couch potato to running maniac in no time. Start by completing five short Couch to 5k races on a flat surface. After each race, increase the distance by 1 kilometer. To make the workout more challenging, try adding hills or speed bumps into the mix! 2. The Trim and Tone Workout: This resistance band workout is great for toning and tightening your muscle fibers. Start by attaching one end of the band around a sturdy post or railing, and weave it through your legs until it’s close to your feet. Hold onto the other end of the band with both hands and pull it tight against your body. Try not to let go of the bands until you finish the exercise! This workout will also help improve balance and coordination skills! 3. The Chest & Shoulders Workout: This resistance band workout is perfect for targeting those stubborn chest muscles! Start by attaching one end of the band around a sturdy post or railing, and weave it through your arms until it’

The Best Resistance Band Workouts for Men

Looking for a great resistance band workout to help you lose weight? Look no further! These five resistance band workouts are designed to help you tone your muscles and burn calories. 1) Resistance Band Triceps Extension: Start by standing with a resistance band around your neck, holding the ends in each hand. Bend your elbows and extend them toward the ground, keeping your back straight. Hold this position for 30 seconds. 2) Resistance Band Rope Calf Raise: This is a great exercise for targeting your calves and preventing calf strains. Standing on the center of a Resistance Band with feet shoulder-width apart, hold the middle of the band in one hand, then reach down with the other hand and grab the end of the rope circling your foot. Keep your heel planted against the ground as you lift your heels off the ground, then slowly lower them back to the starting position. Do 10 reps. 3) Resistance Band French Press: This is an excellent upper body muscle workout that targets your shoulders, triceps, and chest. Position yourself facing a bench so that both legs hang over it at shoulder height. Cross one ankle over the other knee, then loop one end of the resistance band around that ankle Joint,. Hold onto that end as you press down firmly on top of your thighbone with both hands (keeping your back straight), using enough force to get it close to your chest but not touch it, then press up again until you��ve reached full extension

Conclusion

Resistance band workouts are a great way to lose weight and improve your overall fitness level. They can be done at home, in the gym, or even outdoors. There are many different resistance band exercises you can do to get fit. Here are some of our favorite fat-loss resistance band workouts to help you reach your goals: Topic: How To Style A Jean Jacket Conclusion Paragraph: Jean jackets are an essential part of any man's wardrobe, and styling them correctly can make all the difference. In this article, we have provided tips on how to style a Jean jacket so that it looks its best. We hope that our tips have helped you learn how to put a Jean jacket together and styled it for maximum effect. If you need help finding the perfect jean jacket for your outfit, check out our selection here at The Shoe Department and find exactly what you're looking for!

[cincodenada]

Okay, as might have been expected, I got distracted. But I'm back, with some new discoveries: regardless of the number of players, the Chance and Community Chest are balanced against each other! If you add up Chance with Community Chest, you get the same number for every player number, within a dollar - $32 for the old numbers, $42 for the new ones. If you extend it past 4 players, the average value of Chance goes negative, but the Community Chest gets positive enough to balance it out.

Technically, you are slightly more likely to land on Community Chest than you are Chance (a total of 0.093 visits/turn vs 0.089) but even with that taken into account the expected value over 10 turns just from the cards is $29 for one player, and $31 for eight players ($38 and $40 for the newer cards), so let's call it $30 and move on. Will we even need that number? Who knows!

I'm gonna start poking at this with the time-honored tool of asking a simpler question: what's the fastest we could lose, and what are the chances of that?

In this scenario, there are only 10 spaces that affect our income at all. Those are:

Go (+$200)

Income Tax (-$200)

Community Chest (x3)

Chance (x3)

Jail (-$50)

Luxury Tax (-$75)

As stated earlier, together Community Chest and Chance are +$30 on average. I guess if we really wanted to go hard we could play with 8 players and try to hit Chance and avoid Community Chest, but, we're trying to go simple here.

So, setting that aside, one way would be hitting Income Tax and Luxury Tax every time, for starters.

Jail is complicated: if you had total control over dice, you could just go to jail, pay $50 to get out, and repeat until you're out of money. So that's one way you could lose. What would that look like with magic dice powers? From start, you'd have to roll a total of 30 to get to "Go to Jail", which would take three rolls, which if you use doubles, is one turn - and in fact, rolling three doubles in a row takes you straight to jail regardless of where you land! So, setting various methods aside for now: one turn to get to jail, then next turn you pay your $50 and roll your way to jail again. You're losing $50 a turn, no income whatsoever, and just like that you're out of cash in 30 turns. Easy peasy!

But is that the fastest? There's a total of $275 non-jail penalties on one trip around the board, and Go only gets you $200, so you can lose $75 per trip if you land carefully. You have to get around the board though, and that's 40 spaces, and the best you can do in a single turn without going to jail is 35 spaces - two double-sixes, and then an 11 to dodge jail. I started thinking this might work out, because on average we can almost go all the way around the board, and lose more money...but we need to account for trying to land places!

Luxury Tax and Income Tax are on spots 4 and 38, and thus it's 6 spaces from Luxury Tax to Income Tax, and we're trying to land on both. So, if we're on Luxury Tax, we have to roll a 6 to hit Income Tax. If we do the 6 first, the best we can do is double-3, double-6, 11, which gets us 27 spots total to Ventnor, still 11 spots short. Double-6, double-3, 11 is similar. Double-6, double-6, and then a non-double 6 gets us 30 spaces, but it's 34 spaces from Income Tax back to Luxury Tax. So, it will take us two turns to hit both spaces, gaining $200 but losing $275 with our magic dice. That means we can only lose $37.50 per turn, taking 40 turns to go bankrupt.

But about that jail plan: could we could hit one of those spaces during our jail loop? They're not between the jail and Go to Jail, so no dice there, but we still have the triple-double trick. Initially, it seems unlikely: Luxury Tax is 28 places from jail, Income Tax is 34, and we only get two doubles of movement - the last one sends us straight to jail. The best we can do is Pennsylvania, 24 spots out of jail, and then even if we strategically roll a double two to get to Luxury Tax, we go to jail before we can hit it.

But! We can also use jail to skip Go! Because Income Tax is between Go and Jail, skipping Go means skipping Income Tax, but can we still get Luxury Tax? If we got to Luxury Tax with two doubles, then rolled a third double to skip to jail, we could then use our next turn to pay $50 and try to get back to Luxury Tax. That's 28 places, so it would take two turns, but if we play it right, the second turn ends with us in jail. So, another two-turn trip around the board, but now we lose $125 per trip. That's $62.50 per turn, a 25% improvement over our jail-loop strategy!

To get concrete, and ignoring starting conditions for a minute: we want to arrive on Luxury Tax with two doubles. If we're going the fastest, that's two double-6's, meaning we came from Virginia Avenue. Then we roll a double (any double) and end our turn in jail. From there, we pay our $50, roll a four to get to Virginia Avenue again, and end our turn. Next turn we restart the loop: two double-6's to Luxury tax, pay $75, another double, jail.

Sidenote: I also like this loop because there are actually lots of options - we could choose any number of intermediary spaces that are two doubles away from Luxury Tax. That'll come in handy later. And it means we can lose in a mere 24 turns! Now we're talking!

So far that's the best I've got: yes, with some very strategic rolls, you can lose at Monopoly in 24-ish turns. The "ish" is because starting conditions, but I'll have to deal with that later, because I have, appropriately enough, a game night to get to.

Part three to come, if I don't get tired of this first.

Now here's the question:

Can you lose a game of monopoly without any player buying property/utilities/railroads?

[creepy-spooghetti]

Jeff the killer, ticci Toby, masky and any other pastas of your choosing with an s/o with a fainting disorder. How would they react to s/o fainting infront of them for the first time??? Thx!

Ohhh I really like this idea actually!

Jeff:

Man will go completely still for like six seconds.

He just looks at your fallen form in disbelief, eyes wide, trying to wrap his brain around the fact that you just dropped like a duce with no warning whatsoever.

After he somewhat comprehends what just happened, he'll softly speak your name.

"...Y\n...?"

Poor dude doesn't know how to handle this.

Will definitely poke you to make sure you aren't faking.

Once he realizes you are actually unconscious, he'll shake your shoulders to try to wake you up, and if it goes on for too long he'll pick you up bridal-style and take you to Jack to get a professional opinion.

After you wake up and he has confirmation that you won't be dying anytime soon, he'll be salty.

"How could you do that??"

"Jeff—"

"No, don't talk to me. I'm sulking."

Toby:

Panic mode.

Absolute panic mode.

"Y/n? Did you just die??"

Will leap from his seat in an instant and go absolutely berserk as you lay motionless on the ground. He checks to make sure you're still breathing, and when he sees your chest rise and fall, he'll let out the loudest breath of relief.

Except now he has to find some way to wake you up. So, he calls the only one he knows might be prepared to handle something like this.

Yup, you guessed it: Jack.

Dude still doesn't know what's wrong with you, and his terror can be heard over the phone. "Y\n, unconscious, don't know what to do, get over here!"

"Calm down, Toby—"

"I AM CALM!"

When you actually open your eyes, he will pull you into the tightest hug, pleased beyond belief that you're okay.

"God, don't...don't do that to me again."

Masky:

Will catch you before he even knows what he's doing.

One moment, you're standing, perfectly fine, then the next you're not. He doesn't know what to think about that.

"Don't play games with me, dumbass," he'll warn oh-so-sweetly, arms looped beneath your back so you don't fall and bust your head.

When you're unresponsive, he'll lay you on the floor so he can get a better look at your features. You seem fine, you're not hurt, so what happened?

"Hey. Wake up."

He'll sit down beside you, not willing to admit this turn of events slightly concerns him, and waits for you to stir. After not too long, you do, and notice his position, then realize what happened. "Masky?"

"You better not make this a habit," he snaps, observing your puzzled expression. "I have more important things to do than stay here with you 'cause you're too fuckin' lazy to keep consciousness."

"If that's the case, why'd you stay?" You smirk, rubbing your head and rising. He'll huff, grab your arm, and hoist you up, careful not to let go until you've gained back your balance.

"Shut up."

Liu:

An instant 'oh shit' expression graces his face as he drives forward to snatch you up before you have a chance to hit the ground.

With one arm locked around your torso, he'll examine you, trying to find something that could have caused you to pass out so suddenly.

If you're near a couch or bed or anything else that could be used as a seat, he'll be lifting and taking you there so he won't risk you slipping from his hold.

He'll take his phone out of his pocket, trying to remain calm, and dial Jack's number while he brushes some hair out of your face.

Overall much more mature about the matter than the former three.

When Jack arrives and you wake up, Liu will stand to the side and watch somewhat nervously as you're tested to ensure you're coherent enough to move around.

He'll thank Jack for rushing over so quickly, and once he's gone, he'll take a seat beside you, wrapping his arms around you and allowing his breathing patterns to settle.

"Next time, tell me if you think you're about to faint. You scared the shit outta me."

[97-liners]

hockey player scoups x figure skater reader

words: 1.2k

fluff, tenderness, pointless romance, etc etc

based on this au by @bfwonu

Knees loose, core tight, focus on the glide of ice beneath steel.

You breathe in and out, counting the beats on the music that streams through your wireless earbuds. How long have you been here again? You’re not sure, but then again, time passes quickly when you’re on the ice. You inhale again as you build speed, feeling the chill wind on the back of your neck as you glide across the rink backward, balancing on one skate. And then there’s your musical cue and you bend your leg and you jump, taking off on the back outside edge of the blade.

For a moment, your world drops away and time slows. Once. Twice. Thrice. But your last half-spin is short, and you know it. You land, off balance and tilted. There’s no way for you to land on your butt and the next thing you know, your entire right side is smarting as you slide across the ice. The breath is knocked from your lungs on impact, and you groan in pain.

You think you hear a shout, but it doesn’t matter because your next musical cue is coming, two double flips following the failed triple loop.

You grit your teeth and somehow manage to pull yourself back to your feet, letting the residual momentum from your fall guide you upright. Breathe in, breathe out, count to the beat. You swing your free foot back, but when the toe pick hits the ice, your legs suddenly turn into jelly. You fall again, this time harder and directly onto your hands and knees as you pitch forward.

“Fuck,” you grunt, sliding across the ice as you feel yourself collapse. It feels like you skid for ages before you slowly drag to a stop. Your legs are covered in chips of ice, which begin to melt through your leggings and onto your tender skin, cold seeping into your bones.

You lay there for a moment, catching your breath and looking up at the dizzyingly bright stadium lights illuminating the rink, when out of the corner of your eye, you see movement.

Sighing, you take one of your earbuds out as you turn your head toward the gate. It’s Seungcheol, dressed in ratty old sweats with his hair shoved back into a beanie. He vaults over the wall easily, bypassing the gate, and jumps onto the ice. Even as the rest of your long program plays through the tinny speakers of your earbuds, you can hear the way his hockey skates shred the ice, a horrible, grating sound that sets your teeth on edge.

“What are you doing here,” you scowl, making no movement to get up. “It’s my rink time.”

“Not anymore,” Seungcheol says, coming to a stop beside you and kicking up a spray of ice. “My team’s time starts soon.”

“How has it been three hours already,” you groan, pushing yourself up to a seated position with some difficulty. Your right arm aches terribly, your ribs feel tender and sore, and you’re not quite able to suppress the wince that flashes across your face.

“Are you okay?” Seungcheol lowers himself to a squat by your side. “You took some pretty hard falls just now.”

“Obviously,” you snap. Your eyes ache and you know they're about a moment away from erupting into hot, angry tears. This is the most ambitious long program you’ve attempted— ambitious enough to take you to the world championships if you do it perfectly. Maybe it’s too ambitious, but you’re not ready to admit that. “Are you here to gloat, or what?” You turn toward him, ready to chew him out, but he doesn’t look particularly smug. Instead, he looks… worried.

“Take a break,” he orders. “No skating tomorrow.”

“You can’t order me around,” you huff, but he silences you with a sharp frown.

“Take. A. Break.” Seungcheol’s tone is steely and for a moment, just one moment, you see the leader in him that everybody talks about. The reliable Captain Seungcheol, the team’s source of strength.

You blink and the world blurs. Embarrassed, you turn your head away from him as you feel tears beading on your lashes. “I’m so close to getting it,” you choke. “If it’s not the rotations, it’s the angle. If it’s not the angle, it’s a stiff landing. I’m always just one step away, but I just can’t… get there.”

You don’t know why you’re telling this to him, a lumbering brute of a hockey player who couldn’t tell an axel from a lutz, but Seungcheol nods understandingly, and somehow, you feel like he knows.

“You just need to focus.” Seungcheol sits too, planting his butt solidly on the ice. “I know you’re capable. You know you’re capable. It’s not a matter of ability, it’s all in your head.”

“Thanks, I guess,” you mumble.

“Here.” Seungcheol takes your hand in his. You jerk your head toward him, wide-eyed and panicked as he peels the knit glove off your right hand, but then you hiss in pain as the yarn pulls away from flesh.

You’ve somehow manage to split the skin where the heel of your palm meets your wrist bone, likely when you were breaking your fall earlier, and in the adrenaline of the moment, you hadn’t even noticed it.

“I saw you bleeding,” Seungcheol murmurs quietly as he lays your palm gently in his lap. “That’s why I came out on the ice to check on you.” You watch as he pulls a small foil packet from the pocket of his sweatpants and tears it open to pull out an alcohol wipe.

Seungcheol gently cleans off your wound with the wipe, wincing too when you wince at the painful sting of the alcohol. “Sorry,” he says, apologetic, like it’s somehow his fault. “Here.” You watch as he takes out a band-aid from his pocket and carefully places it over the wound, his fingers pressing down the adhesive, impossibly gentle. You feel your skin tingle where he touched you, almost like the phantom of Seungcheol’s fingertips brushing across your palm.

“All done,” Seungcheol says, shoving the spent wrappers back into his pocket as he stands.

“Th-thank you,” you bite out. Why are your cheeks so hot when the rest of you is so cold? Your legs shake when you try to pull yourself to your feet, both from the cold and from exhaustion. You stand for a moment, thighs aching, before your knees give out and you collapse.

But instead of meeting the ice again, you feel Seungcheol’s arms around your waist, holding you up and catching you as you fall. You gasp, instinctively reaching up to cling on to him. Your fingers close on his large, firm biceps, defined even through the thick cotton of his sweatshirt, and you furiously will yourself not to think about the shape of his body.

You pull yourself up and try to take another step, but your muscles are limp and feel like they’re out of your control.

Seungcheol grins. It’s a grin that you’ve come to hate, and the next words that come out of his mouth make you hate him more. “I’ll carry you the rest of the way,” he says, cocky, confident. Just like that, the tender stillness of the moment is broken and you shove him away, slapping his shoulder in the process. Somehow, you’re grateful that the tenderness has been stripped away. It’s easier this way, this familiar antagonism, the carefully maintained distance burning between the two of you.

“Fuck off, Choi Seungcheol,” you snap as you hobble your way toward the wall, trying your best to ignore the way your legs tremble and your hip throbs in pain. “Fucking prick.”

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he calls out after you, “you’re welcome!”

You hate him, you tell yourself. You detest him. But it’s getting harder and harder to convince yourself that it’s true.

[thornedrose44]

supercorp prompt: kara gravely injured, lena at her bedside waiting for her to recover, leading to soft confessions

“It was always you. Always. Even when… even when I burnt everything to the ground. Even when I stood and cried in the ashes, wishing to burn it all down again. It was you.” Lena inhaled shakily, lifting Kara’s limp hand to her lips and placing the softest of kisses to the cool skin that used to radiate ridiculous warmth.

“I felt it from the moment you walked into my office, trying to shift back into Clark’s… Superman’s shadow. But you were never meant for anyone’s shadow. Never meant for darkness and hidden away places. You shine. Did you know that? That was my first thought when I saw you. That you were brighter than the sun. That you glowed.

“My heart skipped a beat when I saw those… baby blues of yours. Later on… when I knew… I always wondered if you heard it. Did you think it was just nerves? A flicker of a lie? It was you. I felt so seen in your gaze. I always feel seen in your gaze. And the thought that I might never… that I may one day have to go without that… without you.”

Her voice cracked, splintering like her heart had when Supergirl fell to the ground and didn’t get back up again.

“It’s tearing me apart. I don’t know what kryptonite feels like and I know you would never want me to know but I wonder if it feels like this. Draining, destructive… I feel so helpless, nauseous whenever I consider-“ Lena cut off, she wouldn’t say the word, not even hint at it, not with Kara still recovering from the precipice her life had dangled on. She wouldn’t risk it, wouldn’t entice the reaper to turn his empty sockets to their sanctuary. “I feel like… someone cut my heart out of my chest and left the wound open and raw. Rubbed salt into it and keeps cutting back in whenever it considers healing. It will heal. It is healing… with every continued breath you take, every beat of your heart… it’s healing as you heal. Intrinsically linked.” Lena chuckled hollowly to herself as she defined their melded hurts. “Quantum entanglement.

“You hurt l, I hurt. I get it now…” Lena revealed softly, eyes focusing on the rhythmic way Kara’s chest rose and fell with the ebb and flow of life. “Why you didn’t tell me… you knew it would hurt, truly, deeply hurt. The sheer enormity of it would create a negative feedback loop between us so overwhelming that… all that would be left is ashes…” Lena wiped an inconspicuous tear that had managed to escape off her own cheek. “I hurt which hurts you which hurts me and on and on and on it goes.

“It was you even when there were others. It was you when I was scared, it was you when I was happy, angry, jealous, irritated, delighted, wistful, amused… everything. It was always you. I just want you to know that. Everything I have is yours. Everything I am is yours. I know that-“

Lena bit her lip, teeth digging into the soft skin, ripping into it and staining everything with the smallest drop of crimson.

“I know that it’s not the same for you. That I’m your best friend and that… that’s all you’ll ever see me as and I’m okay with that. Genuinely because that… that position is still sacred, a blessing from the heavens. I get to bask in that… radiant glow of yours and it means everything to me. But you should know - though I will never be brave enough to say these words to you in person - that it's you. For me: it’s you.

“My port in the storm. My lantern in the night. My best friend. My love. My true love. It’s you. It’s always been you and always will be you. I love you, Kara Zor-El.”

And with that, Lena leaned forward out of her chair - still cradling Kara’s hand - and pressed her lips to the uncreased forehead.

“Lena?”

Lena didn’t jump or jerk away at the sound of Alex’s soft voice from the doorway. The redhead knew, had seen the way Lena would blossom under Kara’s light - this little tableau the youngest Luthor had created wouldn’t have taken any of the Superfriends by surprise. They were kind enough - or discreet enough - never to mention it. It was Lena’s secret.

They had carried Supergirl for Kara.

They would carry this for Lena.

Lena stepped back, carefully settling Kara’s hand by her side and tucking the blankets tenderly around her form before turning to face the older Danvers with a raised eyebrow. Alex wouldn’t interrupt unless it was important, wouldn’t even consider pulling her away from Kara unless lives were in the balance or she could assure the task was quick - Kara’s hand not losing all contact heat in the time it took for Lena to complete the task and return to her side.

“Brainy needs your help. Just a quick review of the neutraliser design to make sure it works, he doesn’t want to send us in without being certain it will do the job.”

The ‘after the alien took down Supergirl’ goes unsaid.

“Right, of course.” Lena nodded, making her way to the door, head bowed only to be stopped by a light touch to her wrist.

“Lena.” Alex murmured; it was the gentleness of her tone that made Lena stop, it was a gentleness Alex only ever gifted to Kara, Kelly and Esme. “You should tell her.”

Lena pursed her lips at that, already shaking her head without the need for clarification.

“I appreciate the advice, but I can only stand to lose your sister so much.” Lena confessed. “I’ve already gone without once and I’m not brave enough to risk going through that again.”

“But-“

“I’ve made my choice.” Lena asserted, voice firm yet kind.

“And what about her? What if it’s you for her too?” Alex questioned, brown eyes only showing the smallest slither of regret for eavesdropping.

Lena didn’t have it in her to reprimand for the trespass, Alex’s understanding of boundaries always got murky when it came to her sister - and considering everything the family had suffered, Lena could understand where that moral greyness originated from.

“I highly doubt that.” Lena replied, unable to hide how her shoulders dipped with loss at the prospect.

“But what if?” Alex pressed, hand squeezing Lena’s wrist tighter - not restricting, just reassurance of something solid and tangible to make this real and grounded.

“Then you should do everything in your power to change her mind.” Lena said bluntly. “She can do better. She deserves better.”

“No, Lena-“ Alex spluttered, jaw dropping open as the raven haired woman tugged her hand free and marched out of the room.

“Keep an eye on Kara for me until I return.” Lena ordered, not daring to turn back.

[conceptsformyowner]

A long day

We're lying in your bed, it's a bit late, but that's alright, tomorow's saturday. At 23:45, your alarm starts going off.

"Oh, what's that for?"

Without acknowledging my question, you turn off the alarm and get out of bed. I watch you get up and leave the room for a bit -can't follow you since I'm chained to the bed, as usual- and then return with the pack of gear. I quietly stare, not really knowing what you're planning.

You take the mittens out and place them on my hands. You tighten them such that I can't slip out of them, and then lock then both with little padlocks.

Then you take a collar and start putting around my neck. This is strange since I'm already wearing a locked chain necklace ever since we saw how daily collar wear was hurting my skin. You tighten it and then lock it on, not that you need to, you have already rendered my fingers helplessly useless.

You then grab some cuffs and place them around my wrists, then the other set further up the arms, so my elbows are starting to be forced together.

You grab the various belts and tighten them around my body: above the knees, around the waist with my elbows pressed against my torso, and slighly above my already cuffed together ankles.

You grab the long chain and look at me for a while, as if deciding what to do.

Wait, are you...making this up as you go?

You seem to have decided. You loop it around the link joining my ankles and then bend my knees and loop the chain through my collar, and then pull until I'm choking, my neck being bent back towards my feet. You look at me struggling for a bit, then loosen it just enough so that I'm ok, but nothing near a comfortable position.

And so it goes on and on, until you've used every single bondage implement we have. I'm completely immobilized and suffering from the stressful position and the tight bondage. I also can't see, or speak, since my head is wrapped and hooded.

However, it's not unbearable, you're good at managing that balance.

"You look so pretty like this."

You gently caress my hood.

"You're always so much prettier tied up. Alright, here's what's going to happen. You know how I've kept you in chastity for a couple weeks? And you've been so good at it, my precious toy." You caress my arm as I whine and struggle. "Well, I will reward that, because I want you to see I'm fair."

I stop struggling, now listening carefully.

"In exactly 24 hours, you may have earned an orgasm. These will be the hardest 24 hours you have ever endured. I will not show mercy, I won't release you of anything that isn't absolutely necessary. You will be in pain, desperation, hunger, thirst, and heat, and for each hour that you endure, you will get an edging session. At any point, you my use our signal to ask for a single item to be removed. I will choose which one. But it's not free. If you keep everything on, you are guaranteed an orgasm at the end of your 24 hours. But for every item I remove, the chance of it will be less and less. You have 20 items on right now, when the time's up I'll throw a D20, and if the number I get is equal or less than the amount of items still left on your body, I will fuck you until you cum. If it doesn't, you get another two weeks until we try again. So if you ask to remove things 10 times, you'll have 50% chance of me fucking you until you scream.

Anyways, I'll leave you here on the ground by my bed so you can signal during the night, but fair warning, if you wake me up to remove something I'll be grumpy and not very merciful in what I choose to remove.

Good night toy, can't wait to edge you until you're sobbing.

I love owning you."

You gave me a kiss on my forehead, and climbed back on your bed.

[p33paw]

silent library

kaeya x f!reader

summary | getting fucked by kaeya in a library while trying to keep quiet

warnings | nsfw

words count | ~4.9k

links | ao3

"Don't you have a job?" I ask, tilting my head to meet eyes with the man hovering at my side.

Calvary Captain Kaeya has made it his life's purpose to annoy me. I've had to see him every day since I accepted an internship studying under Lisa. He hovers in the library, doing nothing of use besides staring and occasionally balancing a pencil to entertain himself.

I have to wonder if he has something going on with Miss Lisa, the way he constantly stays in the library, that coy smirk curling his lips, and his stare that makes me jump. I consider him, the glow on his cheeks, and the way he postures his body— scratch that, he definitely has something going on with Lisa.

Kaeya purses his lips, pretending to look at the books next to the ones I'm searching. He runs his fingers along their spines, briefly catching my attention before he steals it back with his voice.

"You know? I do." He says, and that's all he says, before turning back to back to the bookshelf with a smug smile.

I squint, tapping my fingers against the lip of the shelf just beneath where the book I want should be.

"Don't you have somewhere else to be? Anywhere else?" I ask, continuing to stare at him as he coyly keeps his gaze averted. "...maybe even somewhere to do with your job." I draw the last word out, staring him down for the duration, until he turns and looks at me again.

I can tell by the look on his face, I won't like his response.

"What do you mean?" He asks back. "I'm busy helping you."

My eyes roll back in my head before I can stop them. With a huff, I turn away from him, sharp, heading deeper into the library, looking for the missing book.

He's driving me insane.

I slip between the shelves, to a room for storage in the back, and key my way in. I leave the door cracked, walking the room, carefully checking the names of the books, eager to find the last one I need and retreat to Lisa's office for a moment of respite. The book needed takes me all the way to the back of the room, tucked in a corner. I search through the names, glancing away only to catch my eyes on Kaeya as he steps into the room, still following me, quietly closing the door behind him.

I spot the book I need on the top shelf. I lift to my tip toes, leveraging my weight with my other hand planted on a shelf, trying to reach it. I even jump, and nearly graze it with my fingertips. I jump again, but don't get any closer.

I sigh, stepping back. I'll just have to go get the step ladder to get it, as embarrassing as it feels. Before I can turn away, I feel warmth press against the length of my back and something solid wrap my waist. I'm held in place, looking up to watch as Kaeya bumps his chest to the back of my head, reaches over me, and plucks a book from the top shelf.

I know I'm staring, embarrassment warm on my face and my lips slightly parted as I process the proximity. Once it settles, my heart thumps, my hands tightening around the books I already have.

Kaeya lowers himself back down with the book, and though he isn't leaning over me anymore, the arm he placed around my waist to steady me stays there.

"This what you needed?" He asks, dropping the book into my hands. I glance up, startling from my thoughts to view the book in question.

I take one look at the cover, and huff another sigh.

"No, not at all." I say, tilting my head back into his chest to look at him. I try to be confident despite the embarrassment seeding in my core.

He lifts his brows, lifting up to put the book back where he got it.

"Which book?" He asks this time, hovering his hand along the shelf, tightening the arm he has looped around my waist.

I squeak out the name, breath catching in my throat as Kaeya tugs me closer, flush against the front of his body. His fingers press into the spine of another book, tilting it out before he grabs it, bringing it down.

He leans in, until his face is hovering directly next to mine, close enough I can feel his breath against my cheek.

"Am I right this time?" He asks, and my stomach jumps.

"What?" I ask, surprisingly unfocused on what he has to say.

He shakes the book in this hand.

"Is this the right book?" He asks again.

I finally find the wherewithal to focus my eyes, looking at the book, reading the cover.

"Yes." I sputter out, darting my hand forward to lift the book from him and place it with the pile in my arms.

I expect that to end the interaction, but our position holds, Kaeya pressed to my back, his arm around my waist, his hand gripping my hip, and his face—

"Did you need help grabbing another book?" He asks.

"What?" I ask again, swallowing around my tongue.

Kaeya laughs this time, and I can feel it rumbling in his chest against my back. "Do you need help grabbing another book?" He repeats.

"No, that was the last one." I say back, trying to get control of my breath and my racing mind.

He hums, like he understands, but we still don't move from our position.

Do I have to ask him to let go?

Why is he doing this?

His hand does feel nice— warm— his chest is broad— I can smell the mint on his breath, and—

"You're still holding me." Slips from my mouth.

"Oh?" Kaeya says back.

His hand only tightens, his thumb starting to move, petting soothing circles into my hip.

"That's true." He continues, tilting his head in further, until his lips are pressed against my ear. "I didn't think you wanted me to stop." He says, voice low and soft, exhaling a hot breath against my ear.

I shiver, trying to take a grounding breath, stomach fluttering, fingers flexing as I fight to get a grasp on myself.

"What makes you think that?" I ask, the moment I've steadied my voice enough.

Kaeya presses in closer, pushing me in toward the bookshelves, plastering himself against my back. He lifts his free hand to cup my face, stroking the corner of my lips with his thumb feather-light.

"You're making such a pretty face— and your breath is quick." Kaeya says.

He grazes his thumb across my lips, down my chin. His skin is rough from wear as he drags his hand across my jaw, down my throat, and to my chest. He presses against the collar of my dress with his fingertips, slipping them just in, before pausing and holding with his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

"—plus," He continues, "Your heart is pounding."

I take a sharp breath, tilting my head back into his chest, feeling the flush of embarrassment blanket my face.

"And, I know that if you wanted me to take my hands off, you'd use your words and ask me to." He says, sounding proud of himself.

That's... true enough.

I turn my face further into his chest, until I can tilt my chin back and look at him, meeting his eyes. I muster my courage, and ask the question burning in my mind.

"Aren't you involved with Miss Lisa?" I ask.

Kaeya splits into toothy grin, eyebrows flying up.

"With Lisa?" He questions. "She's practically married to Jean. What would ever give you the idea that we're together?"

Oh.

Wait—

Is that why Jean is always here?

I drag my tongue along my lower lip as I think, catching his gaze. Part of his smile fades as he roughly swallows, watching my mouth, holding me even tighter.

"I dont— know." I start, "You're always here and— glowing— and— lingering and— following me— and—" I start, slowing down as I say the words.

Huh, I'm kind of stupid— aren't I?

Kaeya watches me come to my conclusion with a quirked brow and a grin.

"Oh." I mumble, blinking at him.

He's here for me.

"Yeah. Oh." He says back.

New embarrassment rolls into my chest. It's cut short by Kaeya suddenly remembering he's torturing me, his hands twitching to move on my body again. He lifts the first hand from my shirt, back up my chest, then directly to my neck just under my chin. His palm is wide where it rests against my throat, his fingers holding either side of my face. He tilts my head to the side, until my neck is exposed to him, and leans in closer, breathing against it. He brushes up the length with his lips, never landing them on my skin, and back up to my ear.

"Are you going to ask me to stop?" He questions, softening his voice again.

I take another sharp inhale, my thighs pressing together as my stomach jumps.

"No." I breathe out, as resolute as I can manage.

I feel his lips warp into a smile, the hand he had on my hip finally releasing me. He uses it to grab the books from my hands, placing them in a stack on the shelf, one by one, until my hands are free. Once done, he lifts that hand to the side of my neck, dragging his fingers along my skin as he brushes my hair away. He leans in, his lips landing on my skin at the joint where my neck meets my shoulder.

My eyes immediately flutter, my head tilting in his grip to give him better access. He kisses soft, first, a barely there peck like a warning. He pauses for a moment, waiting until I nod in his grip, then presses back in. This time, he kisses with purpose, his lips pressed firm. He opens his mouth, scraping against my shoulder with his teeth, pushing his scalding hot tongue out to brand my skin.

My breath catches, both of my hands darting forward to grip the bookshelf and steady myself.

Kaeya keeps one hand firmly planted on my throat, but the other grazes down my side, across my body, until he reaches the middle of my thigh where my dress rests. He plays with the hem, pressing another sloppy kiss to the bend of my shoulder before his mouth moves up to my neck. He hovers there, letting out an exhale as warning before he lands his lips on my skin, open mouthed. I hardly have time to gasp before his mouth tightens, teeth pressing into the soft flesh as he works the skin, sucking to bruise.

I let out another gasp tailed by a soft but needy moan. I tilt my hips, pressing back into the hard line of Kaeya's body. He follows my lead, using his full weight to press against me, crowding me against the bookshelf as I finally feel his lap connect with my ass, and his thigh force between my legs. His hips roll, grinding himself against me. I squeeze his thigh between mine, then press against it. I move with him, a barely louder moan escaping me as I feel his clothed cock jump against my stimulation.

Kaeya pulls off my neck, digging into the soft flesh of my throat and thigh with his fingers.

"Stay quiet." He whispers.

I find the wherewithal to open my eyes, glancing around at our surroundings, suddenly remembering the fact that we're huddled in the corner of a back room in a public library, and that anyone could walk in on us right now.

Do I care enough to stop? No.

I lift one of my hands, stuffing my mouth with my sleeve to muffle myself as Kaeya's hand slips just under the hem of my dress.

"Good girl." He breathes out, brushing with his fingertips along my stomach and up. The praise makes me warm, melting in his hands.

He continues higher, until he reaches the bottom of my bra. He hooks his fingers into it at the center, lifting the piece until it's over both of my breasts, exposing them under the dress. His hand is quick to move higher, dragging the roughened skin of his fingers against my breast and nipples. He stimulates my nipple with his thumb, playing with it until it stiffens to a peak, lifting his thigh to press between my legs.

It feels fucking good.

I'm suddenly very thankful for the sleeve stuffed into my mouth, quiet whimpered moans escaping from low in my throat like a near constant, my body rolling back into Kaeya's with purpose and desperation. He grunts in return, only playing with my breasts more roughly, groping them, pinching my hardened nipples until I whine. He only slows to kiss my neck again, his tongue burning where it drags against my skin.

I drop my sleeve from my mouth, letting out an unmitigated gasp.

"I'm— surprised—" I breathe out, eyes fluttering as I struggle to focus. "I almost thought your mouth would be— ah— cold—"

Kaeya's hands pause as he releases a breathy laugh. Suddenly, where his fingers rest against my breast there's a shift. His fingers go ice cold, raising goosebumps where they touch. He moves them toward my nipple, and I flinch away as they connect with a sharp breath.

"Kaeya—" I chastise, whining in protest.

Before it even feels like he's started, he stops, and his hands return to the same warmth. He laughs again, brushing his now-warm fingertips down the center of my chest. He follows the line down, between the middle of my ribs, to my stomach, until he's resting with his finger tips at the waistband of my panties. He waits.

"Can I?" He asks, then presses another kiss to my neck, rocking his obviously erect cock against my ass.

I close my already half-lidded eyes, fight to steady my breathing, stuff my mouth with my sleeve then nod.

Kaeya wastes no time, his hand immediately pushing past the waistband of my panties, his fingers sliding against my pussy, dragging through everything soft and sensitive. He moves with ease, collecting slick with his fingertips as he slides between my lips, quickly finding my clit with a practiced ease. He moves slowly, gently, petting my clit as I go limp, sighing in relaxed pleasure.

"How's that?" He asks, breathy, right against my neck.

I make a noise muffled by my sleeve, loosely nodding.

I hear another laugh. "That good?" Kaeya asks.

I make another noise, my eyes rolling back, my free hand gripping the bookshelf in front of me to keep me upright.

I let out a sigh, nodding again.

His fingers push back, moving deeper, until he finds my entrance. With no warning, he pushes in, two at once, and my second hand darts forward, also landing to grip the shelf and keep me upright. I let out a wild moan, uninhibited.

Kaeya grunts, quickly lifting his hand from my throat. He covers my mouth with it, gripping tight, trying his best to quiet me as I moan against his palm. Despite the mishap, he continues, burying his massive fingers inside of me as deep as he can get them.

He keeps his mouth on my neck, moving his lips and tongue against my skin. He curls his fingers inside of me, and I nearly buckle, whimpering against his palm. I feel myself throb from the stimulation, gripping down on his fingers, milking them, trying to drag them deeper.

"You take my fingers so well—" Kaeya breathes out, quiet and soft, pumping his fingers inside of me. "God, you're going to take my cock so well—" He voice starts to take on a desperation. "Won't you, good girl?"

I nod into his hand, eyes rolling back. I'll do any goddamn thing he wants if it feels like this.

Kaeya laughs again, pulling his fingers out from inside of me. He slides them forward, refocusing my clit. He circles it in a rhythm that makes my thighs twitch. I rock my hips into it, into him, desperate enough to ride his fingers.

He notices, and takes a rougher pace, flicking his fingers against my clit fast enough my brain stutters and my hips pause. All I can do is grip the shelf in front of me, melting into his control.

Kaeya's mouth moves up my neck, pressing sloppy kisses as he goes, his fingers never pausing in their stimulation. He kisses the length of it to my jaw, mouths the tendon there, then moves higher, until his lips are pressed to my ear again.

"You're making such a pretty face— so desperate like that—" He breathes out.

I blink hazily, parting my lips only to mouth at his fingers. He presses a kiss to my ear, then nips the lobe before coming back up, breathing hot, heavy breaths against the side of my face.

"Come on my fingers so I can fuck you." He says, voice stern. "Let me watch that pretty little face come for me."

I blink rapidly, nodding into his hand, hips jerking as he continues to expertly stimulate my clit. I feel the pleasure start to build, heat spiking in my stomach, unfurling up, numbing my legs and arms. A tremble starts in my core that branches out, until I'm barely upright with my shaking legs, whimpered moans escaping me into his palm.

It happens like a crash, a wave of numbing relief and pleasure as I gasp into Kaeya's palm, guttural moans ripping through my throat.

He makes a noise as well, a low moan, something like desperation. His hand immediately drops from my mouth, exposing my soft needy noises as he drags it down and back.

"You feel so— you feel so good—" I pant out.

"I know." He says back as I hear a click and zipper, what sounds like him obviously fumbling with his belt, before my panties are roughly jerked down my thighs.

I manage to look back with half lidded eyes, watching Kaeya wrap his hand around the base of his cock. It looks healthy, pretty like him, flushed red at the tip and painfully hard. He pumps it in his hand, staring back at me.

"Lift your dress." He demands.

I loosely nod, still coming down from my orgasm. I lift one hand behind me to bundle the fabric of my dress and lift it up to my waist, holding it there.

Kaeya reaches forward with the hand not holding his cock, and grips my ass, dragging his thumb through my pussy, then holding it open. It's beyond embarrassing to feel the cold air hit the sensitive skin of my pussy, knowing he's staring right at it.

He takes a moment, pressing just past my entrance with his thumb, then pulling it back out and dragging the slick down to my clit. He makes a pleased noise from behind me as he watches it, playing with my pussy for fun. I make a noise, tilting my hips higher, arching my back, trying to invite him in and get him to fuck me already.

He pulls his hand back, using it to slap my ass before he moves it back down, holding my pussy spread as I grip on air.

"Bossy, aren't you?" He chastises, finally tilting his hips forward until the head of his cock slips between my pussy lips.

He rubs against me, dragging his cock through my slick, rubbing against my clit, then resting flush to my entrance, paused just before pushing inside.

"You want my cock, don't you?" He breathes out. "Show me how bad."

I whimper, nodding, then brace myself against the shelves. I tilt my hips, trying to keep steady as I ease back, forcing his cock to push inside of me. The initial stretch pulls a high noise from me that Kaeya catches. He covers my mouth with his hand again, this time forcing his fingers into my mouth. I wrap them with my lips, then fuck myself back onto his cock, finishing burying the length inside of me in one smooth motion. I relax, feeling the full stretch of his cock buried inside of me.

Kaeya's free hand darts up, planting on my hip and gripping down tight. He digs into the flesh hard enough bruise, then holds me in place as he starts to snap his hips against me. His noises are quiet, controlled, just audible beneath the sound of our skin as it connects. His pace is rough, his hips pulling back just to snap forward, fucking me audibly.

Both of us lose our words, solely focused on the friction between our bodies and the fight to keep quiet as we connect, Kaeya's hard cock fucking in and out of me with each roll of his hips. I'm a slobbering mess against his palm, constant moans and whimpers dripping from my throat as he fucks me hard enough I bounce against the bookshelf I'm propped against, holding on for the ride.

Kaeya's hand adjusts, keeping a firm grip on my hip to hold me in place as he fucks himself into me from behind. He finds a rhythm, his hard cock pulsing inside of me as he uses my body to stimulate it.

I crane my neck, looking back to watch his face, staring at his blissed expression, half-lidded eyes, just parted lips. His eyes are locked down, watching where he's burying his cock inside of me. Once he looks up, catching me staring, he smirks, slowing the roll of his hips.

"You look so pretty under me like this." He praises, dragging his hand from my hip to my ass, then up my back to my waist, instead holding there.

I hate how smug he is.

Tired of being a pathetic mewling mess, I take the control that I can. I tighten my pussy, gripping down on Kaeya's cock, pulsing along the length. His reaction is immediate, his hand gripping down hard on my hip, the other dropping from my mouth, his hips stuttering to a stop. He nearly buckles, leaning into me.

"Fuck—" He pants out under his breath, not moving other than to rock himself against me. "You feel so— you— you feel so—"

"Good?" I breathe out. "I know." I try to copy his earlier attitude, giving him what he gave me.

He huffs a laugh, followed by a moaned sigh as I flutter my pussy around the length of his cock. He leans in until he can land his lips back on my shoulder, lifting his hand back up to cover my mouth, forcing his fingers back between my lips.

He presses a single kiss before opening his mouth, dragging his tongue out to taste my skin. He licks, then bites down hard, holding tight. Finally, he snaps his hips again, his moans and grunts muffled by my shoulder as he snaps against me. I do my best to keep myself tightened, gripping down on his cock, milking his orgasm out.

His hand fumbles at my waist, his fingers forcing themselves back between my legs. He slides them against my pussy, going back to feel where he's fucking himself into me first, before landing on my clit. I nearly jump when he presses in with his fingers, focused, stuttering them against my clit rapidly.

I arch my back, having to bite down on his fingers to keep muffled, another orgasm rapidly building with the ebb low in my stomach. He keeps his mouth planted on my shoulder, muffling his own moans, snapping his hips against me hard enough the books on the shelves knock together.

I barely realize I'm about to cum before I do, shivering into an orgasm, gripping the bookshelf as it overtakes my body, pulsing where I'm split on Kaeya's cock. He doesn't slow, instead quickens his hips and fingers, until I have to dart a hand down, scrambling to dig my nails into his wrist as I fight the urge to cry out.

He's quick to listen, lifting that hand to my stomach and supporting me as he loses his rhythm, pounding himself into me with desperate uneven thrusts, grunts low in his throat as he bites harder on my shoulder.

I shiver in relief when I feel his cock jerk, warmth spreading low in my abdomen as his hips snap the final few times, then pause as he rocks against me, fucking his softening cock and cum as deeply as he can get it.

We hold for a moment, collecting ourselves in eachother's arms, wrapped tight, before we remember where we are.

Kaeya pulls his fingers from my mouth, lifting his own mouth from my sore shoulder, leaving it wet where air hits it. He shifts his hips slowly, supporting me with both hands as he pulls out.

"So good— such a good girl—" He repeats murmured praise, low and slow, voice rough. "You made me feel so good."

I'm fucked out of my mind, too far gone to care, only focused on the tremble of my legs as they fight to hold me up. I turn toward Kaeya once he pulls out of me, letting my dress fall back into place. I watch through half lidded eyes as he tucks his cock back into his pants, fastening his belt.

He catches me staring and grins, looking at me with a relaxed look. He takes a step toward me, landing his hand to cup my chin, then finally presses a kiss to my lips.

I consider it our first real kiss, sweet and chaste. He pulls back from it quickly, pressing another kiss to my forehead, then stepping back and looking down my form.

"You're such a mess." He chastises, dragging his eyes down my body.

I finally find the mental power to look for myself, greeted by the sight of cum drooling down my thighs toward my rolled panties tangled at my knees.

Kaeya drops to a crouch in front of me, looking up with a reassuring smile as he reaches forward and pulls my panties off for me. I'm confused for only a second, until he reaches forward, wiping up the length of my leg with the panties to clean the cum off of me.

It's sweet, in a weird way.

He lifts to standing, hovering close to me, the panty cum-rag in one hand, then, the door creaks open.

Kaeya startles, his hands flying behind his back to hide the panties there. My head snaps toward the door as well. I'm left speechless as I make eye contact with Lisa who looks from me to Kaeya, back to me, then her brows lift.

"Are those books giving you trouble?" She looks me up and down after her question.

"No ma'am—" I say quickly, turning to lift the books in question, willing my legs to not give out. "—I found them already."

Lisa's brows lift higher.

Damn. Maybe I shouldn't have told her that.

"Oh." She says, briefly eyeing Kaeya again. "Stop by my office whenever you're done in here, then." She says, then turns and walks away.

I grimace, turning to look at Kaeya. He turns toward me, meeting my eye contact and relaxing into a softer expression.

"I think she might know." I mumble.

Kaeya curls into a smug grin, a glint in his eye. "Good observation." He says, dripping with sarcasm.

I roll my eyes at him, lifting a hand to pinch his cheek. I don't expect the way he leans into my touch. I decide, suddenly, that if he's kissed me, it's only fair that I kiss him. I move until I'm in front of him, lift to my tip toes, then press my lips to his.

Kaeya chases it with his whole body, his free hand darting up to my cradle my waist and pull me in. I hold it for a good few seconds until I move, kissing the corner of his lips, down to his chin, then to his neck.

There, I dart my tongue out before latching my mouth on, holding with my teeth as I tighten, sucking to bruise. Once I'm sure I've left a mark on his skin, I pull back, satisfied, smiling up at Kaeya. He looks blissed out, even more than before.

I lift my hand to his chest, brushing with my thumb.

"You should go do your job." I say, grinning.

Kaeya's lips twitch to smile, then he shakes his head. "I'd rather bother you."

I smile right back, pushing away from him by shoving his shoulder, walking for the exit of the room. Kaeya keeps close, following me out, plastered to my back.

Calvary Captain Kaeya has made it his life's purpose to annoy me. I've had to see him every day since I accepted an internship studying under Lisa. He hovers in the library, doing nothing of use besides staring and occasionally balancing a pencil to entertain himself... but, nothing makes me happier.

[sunflowervolvimp3]

changes (best friend!harry)

Warnings: language, nsfw content, drugs (marijuana) and alcohol

Pairing: best friend!Harry x reader

Word Count: 17k (holy shit)

A/N: So this started as two requests I had in my inbox that I got way too into and then it became this. this may be the longest stand-alone fic I’ve ever written, and it, like watermelon sugar, is dedicated to touching!!!! I spent so long on this so as always. feedback is appreciated. and if you like it, please reblog it!!! reblogging is the best way to show fic writers your appreciation <3

{masterlist}

Unless she’s reminded otherwise, Y/N always thinks of herself as a teenager.

This, of course, isn’t true. She turned twenty-six a month ago, works as a media producer for an online clothing company, and lives alone in a one bedroom apartment in London.  However, unless she physically has something in front of her to remind her of her real age and the passing of time, Y/N disregards this information.

Usually, the reminder is a bill in the mail, or a phone call to remind her that she needs to book an appointment with her doctor.  Usually, the reminder is an ache in her back, her glasses prescription getting worse, or realizing that she has no idea what her teenage cousins are talking about when she sees them at Christmas.  Usually, the reminder is enough to give her pause, but not enough to throw her for a loop.

This time, however, the reminder is her childhood best friend naked in her bathroom.

Y/N and Harry had been friends since they were in primary school, after Y/N had moved to London with her mother.  Their new house just happened to be next to Harry’s, and Anne and Y/N’s mother had quickly hit it off.  Anne had been quick to volunteer her son to be Y/N’s tour guide at school, and despite not being enthusiastic about each other in the beginning, the two began to grow closer by the end of Y/N’s first week there.  Within a month, the two were inseparable, and that didn’t change as they entered their teen years, started secondary school, and Harry left London to become a member of the most famous boyband in the world.  Just typical teen things.

However, despite their distance, Y/N and Harry had remained as close as ever.  They constantly texted, called, and video chatted with each other, and Y/N even joined Harry on tour a few times (with permission from her mother).  Although both of them had been worried when Harry left, their worries and fears never came to fruition.  Just as they balanced each other in personality, they balanced each other in lifestyle—when Y/N needed a break from high school and university, Harry brought her to shows, award ceremonies, and parties, and when Harry felt like his fame was overwhelming, Y/N sent him reminders of home, hosted countless movie nights for him, and told him story after story of university life.

They were so perfectly matched that, when they were younger, many people—and tabloids—suspected that they were dating.  Even their mothers had asked them, on occasion, if one of them had any interest in the other.  However, their answers were always the same.  Y/N and Harry were best friends, and nothing more.  Sure, they were touchy, affectionate, called each other pet names, and had even kissed on a few occasions during truth or dare at parties, but none of it actually meant anything.  Y/N had watched Harry grow from a cute kid to an awkward teen to a self-assured man, and her feelings for him had never changed, and an attraction to him had never developed.

Until now.

Harry’s facing away from her, his towel in his hand as he dries his chest.  His entire body glistens with water from the shower.  Y/N can’t stop herself from letting her eyes canvas over every inch of his smooth arms, toned back, down lower to his—

Her breath catches in her throat.  Yeah. His ass is toned, too, she thinks to herself, and only has another moment to think that she shouldn’t be looking before Harry glances over his shoulder, alarmed by the small sound she had made.

“Y/N—” His eyes widen a bit, but he doesn’t make an effort to cover himself with his towel very quickly.

Her eyes automatically follow his movement for a moment before she realizes what she’s about to see. “Sorry!” Y/N turns around quickly, her face heated. “Sorry, I—the door was unlocked, I didn’t realize you were—”

“It’s fine.” Harry fixes his towel around his waist. “Don’t worry about—”

Y/N leaves the bathroom before he can finish his sentence, walking to her bedroom quickly and shutting the door tightly behind her.

Harry, it seems, is today’s reminder that she’s no longer a teenager, because his body is that of a man.

It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before, she tells herself, walking to her dresser to pick out a change of clothes.  Y/N’s seen him half naked countless times.  The whole world has seen Harry half naked countless times.  But she’s never seen him like that.

When did Harry grow up? Somehow, between movie nights and pool parties and going away to school, Y/N had failed to notice that her childhood best friend is no longer a child.  Harry had grown into his features, developed muscles in his arms and chest, tattooed designs all over his skin, and had become an incredibly attractive adult without her noticing.

Y/N pulls her pajamas off quickly, stopping to glance at herself in her full length mirror.  She, like Harry, is also no longer a child. She had grown into her features like he had, had gotten a few tattoos, made her share of mistakes, and became an adult the same way he did.  Neither her nor Harry’s growth had happened overnight.

As she runs her hand between her chest, down her stomach, brushing her hip, Y/N can’t help but wonder: has Harry noticed that they’ve grown up?  Does he still look at her and see the shy little girl, the developing teenager, or does he look at her and see a grown woman?  Is she the only one who’s been late to the party?

Y/N feels a flutter in the pit of her stomach.  Is it possible that, at some point, Harry looked at her and had the same realization that she had a moment ago?  That not only had she grown into a woman, but that she had grown into an attractive woman?

The sound of the bathroom door opening distracts Y/N from her thoughts, and she hurries to finish getting dressed.  Her shirt, she finds when she pulls it on, smells a bit like Harry’s cologne, as she had set it on the side of the bed that he slept on the night before.  She likes it more than she should.

After she’s dressed, she debates just staying in her bedroom to avoid facing Harry again for a bit longer. However, she can hear him working her coffee maker in the kitchen, and knows she can’t hide in her bedroom like a child.  She isn’t a child.

Neither is he, she thinks to herself as she touches her bedroom doorknob. Which is the problem.

Still, Y/N shakes herself from her thoughts and walks out to her kitchen.

Harry, now dressed in wide leg jeans and a plain white t-shirt, is leaning against her kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in his hand.  His hair is still wet from his shower, but other than that, he looks normal. Completely normal.

And yet, Y/N can’t manage to meet his eyes.

“Good morning.” Harry’s voice is low, a bit of amusement in it as he notices her demeanor. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine.” Y/N hates how tight her voice is as she grabs a mug from the kitchen cabinet. “I slept fine. Did you?”

Harry nods, his eyes still tracing her every move as her own eyes avoid him. “I did.  Woke up a bit early, though.  Thought I’d shower before brunch.”

Right.  Brunch.  They’re having brunch that day with a few old friends, at a place just down the street from Y/N’s apartment, which is why Harry had stayed over the night before.  Y/N was going to have to act normal around their other friends, which means she can’t avoid looking at him for much longer.

“I’m sorry.” She says as she pours a cup of coffee. “I am, I—I should’ve knocked.  I forgot you slept over, and—”

“It’s fine, Y/N.  I should’ve locked the door.” Harry says easily, the corner of his lips tugging up. “It’s not a big deal.  Besides, it’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

At that comment, Y/N pauses. “Except…I haven’t seen you naked before?”

Harry shakes his head adamantly. “No.  You have. There’s no way we’ve been friends for almost twenty years, and you haven’t.”

“Harry, believe me. I’ve seen you in a lot of weird positions over the years, but I’ve never seen you completely nude.” Y/N feels her regular ease with him begin to return, just a little bit. “I would remember that.”

“Would you?” Harry cocks an eyebrow, his coffee cup half raised to his lips.

The bit of ease that returned disappears immediately. “I—” Y/N’s cheeks heat up again. “Shut up, you know what I meant.”

Harry tries to hide his laugh behind his coffee, but fails. “I’m just teasing you, love.  It’s fine, promise.  I don’t mind that you saw.  I’m very comfortable in my body.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Too comfortable, I think.”

“Is there such a thing as being too comfortable in your body?” Harry asks in a teasing voice, crossing his arms.

“When your best friend walks in on you naked and you don’t bother to cover yourself?” Despite the blush on her cheeks, Y/N manages to laugh. “Yes.  There is.”

“I don’t know…” Harry finishes his coffee and sets the mug in the kitchen sink. “It sounds like there’s issues with your comfort, not mine.”

Before Y/N can form a reply, Harry shoots her a smirk and walks out of the kitchen.

For the rest of the day, Y/N does her best not to think about that morning’s awkward encounter. Brunch with her friends is normal, and she just lets herself enjoy having Harry home, and catching up with everyone.  The afternoon also passes in an unremarkable way, as does that night.  Over the next few days, however, things begin to change.

Within two weeks, the atmosphere of the country has shifted.  There’s a virus that’s highly contagious and can be fatal, Y/N’s work tells her to work from home, and soon the entire country is being told to stay home to avoid catching Coronavirus.

And then Harry texts her two days later, without any warning or leeway for her to disagree.

I’m on the last flight back to London.  Pack a bag and bring some groceries to my place, so we can isolate together.  You’ll go crazy alone in your flat.

Y/N tries to reply that it’s not necessary, but her message doesn’t go through.  Harry’s already on the plane.  So she does what he says, and packs a bag of clothes, her work bag, some alcohol, and her favourite snacks, and drives over to his house.

Letting herself in with her key, Y/N begins to bring the house back to life.  She lights Harry’s candles and orders some dinner, as well as groceries for the next couple weeks.  She makes sure she gets his favourite foods, and the weird snacks that only he likes.  She calls her mum to tell her she’ll be with Harry, and Anne, to tell her the same thing. And then she waits.

When Harry finally walks through the front door, he looks more like the tired seventeen year old on his first tour than the grown man she had seen a few weeks ago.  The bags under his eyes are evidence of his jetlag and stress, his jacket is rumpled from the plane, his hair just as messy, and he looks like he could collapse the second the door closes behind him.

“H.” Y/N walks towards him and gives him a tight hug.  One hand goes to his back and the other to his hair, playing with it as she always does. “Are you alright?”

“Long flight.” Harry mutters in reply, eyes closed as he holds her tight. “Everyone’s going insane in the States.  I’m lucky I got a flight back to London.”

“Why did you?” Y/N pulls back, brushing his messy hair from his eyes. “You could’ve stayed in LA.”

“Yeah, but…” Harry shrugs a bit. “I knew you’d be alone.  And I wanted to be with you.”

Y/N can’t help the soft smile that creeps onto her face. “C’mon.  I have dinner ready.”

Harry barely makes it through dinner with his eyes open, but still insists on watching a movie after. Y/N tries to tell him that he should just go to sleep, but he won’t hear it.

“We can watch it in my bed, like we used to when we were little.” Harry gives her his best puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

Y/N shoves his shoulder. “You’re twenty-six.  Stop pouting to get what you want.”

“I’ll stop pouting when it stops working.”

Y/N laughs in spite of herself. “Fine, but shower first.  You smell like a plane.”

Of course, as predicted, Harry starts to drift to sleep within the first half hour of the movie. He slips down in the bed more and more, until his head is in Y/N’s lap completely.  Out of habit, Y/N begins to play with his damp curls, running her fingers through them at a steady pace as she watches the movie.

Harry’s breathing begins to even out as she does, and Y/N begins to pay more attention to him than the TV.  When they spend the night with each other, Y/N always falls asleep first.  It’s rare she gets to see him completely relaxed.

As much as she loves his green eyes, his eyelashes may be a close second.  They’re so long and dark that they almost make Y/N jealous.  And his cheeks…she brings one hand up to gently touch them.  They’re stubbled from his long day of travel, but the skin underneath feels soft. Despite having lost his baby fat years ago, there’s still a layer of tenderness in his body.

Y/N is so distracted by him that she doesn’t realize that she’s stopped playing with his hair, not until Harry speaks up.

“Why’d you stop?” His voice is groggy with exhaustion, lower, with a thicker accent.  His words slur together as well

“Hm?” Y/N hums in her throat in response. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Not really.” Harry’s eyes stay closed as he shifts his position a bit. “Will you play with my hair a bit longer?  Feels nice.”

The movie credits roll in the background as Y/N does what he says.  Harry sighs contently, relaxing back into her again.

Y/N turns the TV off, so the only light in the room comes from the moon through the open curtains. It shines over half of Harry’s face, catching the ends of his eyelashes.  Somehow, the moonlight makes his cheeks and lips even more pink.  

“You’re really pretty, y’know that?” Y/N says it absentmindedly, her fingers still combing through Harry’s curls.

“Thanks.” He has just enough energy to mumble a response. “’M, not as pretty as you, though.”

Y/N’s stomach flutters when he says it, so quiet that she’s not even certain she heard him correctly. “Liar.”

“’S true.” Harry’s reply is even less audible than before. “So pretty.”

If Harry was awake and more present in the conversation, Y/N might tease him.  She might try to make him blush, or roll his eyes, or laugh. Maybe, just maybe, she’d even ask him to elaborate, just enough that she could figure out what the fluttering in her stomach means.

But Harry is hardly awake right now.  And it wouldn’t be fair.

“Go to sleep, H,” is all Y/N says, shifting to lay down a bit more without pausing the movement of her fingers.

…

It takes Harry a few days to readjust to London time.  While Y/N spends her weekdays working from the kitchen table, Harry naps and fiddles with his guitar and journal.  While she can tell he’s working on something, Y/N can also tell that he’s not making much process.

A week after coming back from LA, Harry half stomps into the kitchen during the afternoon, frustration clear on his face as he opens the fridge and grabs an apple.  He bites into it angrily and leans against the counter, the irritation still on his face.

Y/N glances at him from behind her laptop. “Everything alright?”

Harry gives half a shrug. “Trying to write.”

“And how’s that going?”

“Fucking sucks.” Harry takes another bite of the apple. “I thought I’d feel more inspired, being at home and not having deadlines, but I can’t get anything out.  Not anything good, anyways.”

“I know the feeling.” Y/N sighs as she closes her laptop. “There’s been a huge surge in online orders, and my boss wants me to create more promo material, but it’s hard to focus on anything right now.”

Harry nods and glances out the window. “Doesn’t help that it’s a beautiful day, but we can’t go out.”

“We can go out.  We just can’t leave the property.” Y/N replies. “You have a giant backyard.  Why don’t you use it?”

“Yeah.  Maybe I’ll go for a swim.” Harry takes another bite of his apple. “You want to come?”

Y/N laughs a bit. “Unlike you, H, I have a real nine to five job.  I’m on the clock for another two hours.”

“After, then.” Harry tosses his apple core in the compost and gives her a grin. “I hope you packed that yellow bikini.”

Y/N crumples a piece of scrap paper in her hand and throws it at him. “Piss off.”

Y/N did, in fact, pack her yellow bikini.  However, when she’s changing from her clothes into a swimsuit, she chooses her blue bikini instead, just to have a bit of agency.  Every instinct in her is telling her to wear what Harry said to, and it’s a little concerning.  She’s never cared about dressing for him before, and she isn’t prepared to start.

Despite the different colour, Harry still grins from the edge of the pool when he sees her walk out. “Look at you.  Should’ve put you in the Watermelon Sugar music video.”

“Shut up.” Y/N sits on the edge of the pool, dangling her lets in the water.  Harry rests his head on his arms, his cheeky grin still on his face as he looks up at her.

“I’m serious.” He says innocently. “It was a fun day.  You really would’ve liked it.”

“Of course you thought it was fun; you had a bunch of beautiful girls fawning over you and feeding you fruit.” Y/N rolls her eyes from behind her sunglasses. “You’re such a narcissist.”

“All musicians are narcissists, love.  At least, the best ones are.” Harry’s grin grows as he pushes away from the ledge. “Are you going to just sit there and look pretty, or are you actually going to swim?”

“I’m going to tan.” Y/N leans her head back, enjoying the feeling of the warm sun.

Harry shakes his head. “No, sorry.  The pool is for swimming only.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

In hindsight, Y/N should’ve known what Harry was about to do.  She’s been friends with him long enough that she knows how his brain works. However, Y/N is enjoying the sun so much that she lets her guard down for one moment, and that one moment is all Harry needs.

She feels his hands grip her legs, and before she can stop him, he pulls her into the pool.  Her entire body submerges, and when she finally rises, gasping for air, the only thing she can hear is Harry’s snickering.

“You’re such an ass!” Y/N hits his shoulder hard, not caring about leaving a mark on him. “That’s not funny!”

“The pool is for swimming only.  I told you.” Harry can’t stop laughing long enough to make it through his sentence clearly. “Them’s the rules.”

“Them’s the rules.” Y/N repeats in a mocking voice, hitting him one more time. “You’re the worst.”

“Maybe, but you’re stuck with me.” Harry runs a hand through his wet hair. “At least until quarantine is done.”

“I should’ve stayed alone in my apartment.” Y/N mutters, tossing her wet sunglasses on the pool ledge. “Would’ve been so much more peaceful.”

“And boring.” Harry points out. “And you wouldn’t get to take relaxing swims like this!”

“Right.  Relaxing.” Y/N splashes him playfully. “Jerk.”

Harry just grins at you.

…

“Want one?”

Y/N glances at Harry as he packs loose marijuana into a wrapper, concentration clear on his face as he rolls it.

“You learn how to roll those in LA?” Y/N asks, taking a sip of her wine.

Harry chuckles lightly, his skin illuminated by the fire burning in front of them and the moon above them. “Yeah.  I’m not very good, though.  Usually I have somebody else to roll them for me.”

“So high maintenance.”

Another low laugh rolls out of Harry’s mouth. “Ha.  High maintenance.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but an endearing smile is on her face. “It’s still illegal in the U.K., you know.”

“I doubt the police are going to break social distancing rules to arrest me for it.” Harry’s tongue pokes out of his mouth as he tries his best to roll the joint tightly.

Y/N watches as Harry brings the wrapper to his mouth, licking it lightly.  To her dismay, her attraction to Harry had yet to fade, and spending every moment of the day together wasn’t helping.

“I’m not an eighteen year old girl on your tour bus anymore, Harry.” Y/N raises her wine glass. “I drink red wine now.  I’m sophisticated.”

Harry snorts, his eyes flickering to her before looking back down at the joint. “Sophisticated, right. Like you didn’t do body shots off the bartender at your birthday party this year.”

Y/N’s cheeks burn. “Birthdays don’t count.”

“Neither did tour buses, and neither does my backyard in the middle of a pandemic.” Harry seals the joint as best he can. “You may have a fancy job now, but you’re still my Y/N.”

His Y/N.  That phrase ignites the now familiar flutter in her stomach and, over the last few days, her core.  Something about Harry identifying her as his drives Y/N insane, even if it’s nothing new.

“And what exactly does your Y/N do?” She manages to say after a moment.

“She doesn’t take shit from anyone.  She gets drunk fast and high faster.  She’s always down for a laugh.  And, although she won’t admit it, she has a tendency to make bad decisions that she tries to suppress, but can’t always manage to do so.” Harry sparks his lighter and sticks the joint between his lips, lighting it and puffing it quickly.

“Then you should know that your Y/N can’t have a joint of her own.” Y/N steals the joint from Harry’s lips, taking a few puffs of her own from it before handing it back.

The smoke curls in her lungs, forcing a few coughs from her.

“Alright?” Harry asks, concern in his eyes.

Y/N nods, her hand pressed to her chest like she can stop the burn. “Yeah.  Just haven’t done that in a while.”

“You always cough so much. It would be cute if it wasn’t so bloody concerning.” Harry says casually, lifting the joint to his lips and inhaling.

Y/N watches as he exhales smoke slowly.  She wonders if she looks as attractive as he does when she blows out smoke.

Harry grins at her with just the corner of his mouth, like there’s a secret tugging at the edge of his lips.

Y/N really doubts it.

“Here.” Harry places the joint between her lips. “Inhale slowly.”

Y/N does as he says, doing her best to keep from coughing until the joint and his hand is away from her face.  Her eyes burn a bit, both from the smoke and the oncoming high that’s starting to twist through her body.

“That’s a good girl.” Harry praises her before leaning back, placing the joint back between his own lips. “You’ve gotten better at that.  Thought you were going to pass out the first time we smoked, remember?”

“I remember I almost did.” Y/N giggles to herself as she settles down into the couch more. “I coughed so much that I thought I was going to die on that tour bus.”

“Niall was certain you had.” Harry laughs too, and Y/N known they’re both playing back the same memory. “Wasn’t quite sure how we were going to explain that one to Paul.  Neither was I, honestly.”

“You don’t give me enough credit.” Despite the feeling coming over her, YN still takes another sip of her wine. “I was fine.”

Harry nods as he finishes the joint, setting the butt down into his ash tray. “Still…we had some fun nights on the bus when you were there.”

“That was a fun summer.” Y/N agrees, her eyes fixed on the fire before them. “Lots of good memories.”

As Y/N watches the fire, Harry watches her.  He lets another moment or two pass before speaking again.

“When you were on tour with us that summer…” He rubs his lips absentmindedly. “You and Niall.  Did you two ever…?”

“What?  Fuck?” The weed and the alcohol take away the careful tone of Y/N’s regular speech, leaving honesty and bluntness behind.

Harry laughs once. “I was going to say date, but yeah.  I guess so.”

“We didn’t date. We fooled around a few times.” Y/N shrugs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “He was fun.  But we both knew it wasn’t anything serious, just something to do while I was on tour with you.”

Harry nods a bit, reaching for his own drink and taking a sip.  Y/N watches the movement with heavy lidded eyes.  His arm muscles flex underneath his tattooed skin when he moves, and the way his fingers wrap around his glass is fascinating to her.

“I figured he would have told you.” Y/N pulls her sweater around her tighter.  Now that the sun has set completely, a chill has appeared. “You guys always talked about girls together.”

“No, he didn’t tell me. And I didn’t ask.” Harry keeps his glass in his hand, looking down at it with an unreadable expression. “I thought you might tell me, but you didn’t, either.”

The substances in Y/N’s system are clouding her mind, but she does her best to focus on Harry’s words. As a way to ground herself, she pulls her sweater away from her body, hoping that the cold air will help.

“I’m sorry.” She says slowly, like it takes all her effort to get the words out. “I didn’t mean to…hurt your feelings.”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh.” Confusion fogs Y/N’s mind. “Then…why is it bothering you?”

“It’s not bothering me.” Harry denies, finishing off his drink. “I was just wondering why.  You usually tell me everything.  You always have.”

Y/N bites her lip. “I don’t tell you about every person I sleep with.”

Harry hums low in the back of his throat, but offers no other response.

After a few minutes, Y/N stands up. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”

Twisting his empty glass around in his hands, Harry nods. “Alright.  I’ll be up in a little bit.”

“You know, you have a guest room.” Y/N pauses, fiddling with the bottom of her sweater.  Her skin feels unsettled, and the fabric against it isn’t helping. “I should probably start using it.  Social distancing, and all that.”

Harry looks up at her, a stubborn look reflecting in his eyes. “No.  I sleep better with you beside me.”

When Harry finally comes up to bed an hour later, Y/N is still awake, eyes closed, with her back away from the door and head toward the wall.  She doesn’t turn over when she hears the door creak open, and instead just listens to the rustling sounds of Harry changing, going to the bathroom, washing his hands, and returning to the bedroom.

Y/N feels his weight on the bed, but doesn’t hear him slide in next to her.  Instead, she does her best to stay completely relaxed when she feels his fingers brush against her hairline, pushing back a few loose strands.

Staying completely relaxed, it turns out, is easier thought than done.  The moment Harry touches her, Y/N feels the nerves in her face burst to life. It’s like electricity, like nothing she’s ever felt before from any previous touches from Harry.  Behind her closed eyes, Y/N feels her head spinning, but she’s certain it must be the weed and the alcohol in her system.

Finally, the sheets are pulled back, and Harry gets under the covers.  He pulls Y/N back against him, and Y/N can feel the hot skin of his chest pressed against her shoulders.  Harry takes a moment to adjust before sighing, almost in content, and then he presses a gentle kiss to the back of her shoulder.

The tender action leaves Y/N speechless.  The action itself isn’t new; they had always been very physically affectionate with each other.  But there’s something about the moment that Y/N can’t quite place a finger on. Perhaps she would be able to if she was sober, or less tired, but with her brain in its current state, the words she needs are lost, and she’s certain she won’t remember the feeling in the morning.

Harry inhales deeply, his nose buried in her hair, and sighs again.  Y/N can feel him relaxing back against her, but his arms stay wrapped around her tightly.  It’s a comforting embrace, and makes it easy for Y/N’s mind to finally quiet and drift off.

…

“You’re still working?”

Y/N looks up from her laptop to see Harry standing above her, sweaty from his workout.  His hair is tied up in a little ponytail on top of his head, and he has a towel wrapped around his shoulders that he uses to wipe sweat from his face.  His body is literally glistening in the sunlight, and Y/N suddenly finds it very hard to focus on her work.

“I am.” She says finally, closing the lid of her laptop and stretching out on the beach chair. “Or I was. I’m done for today.”

“Good.” Harry sits down on the chair next to her. “I’m going to have a shower, but I was thinking we should try baking something later.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I want cupcakes, and homemade are way better than store bought.” Harry says easily, stealing Y/N’s water and taking a gulp from it.

Y/N watches his throat move as he swallows the water, how his Adam’s apple bobs, how he licks his lips when he finally pulls the glass away from his mouth.

Y/N’s own mouth suddenly feels very dry.

“Alright, yeah.” Y/N nods weakly. “We can bake something later.  It’ll be fun.”

…

“It’ll be fun.” Y/N shakes her head in disbelief. “God, I can’t believe I said that.”

“It was fun!” Harry argues, holding up a red velvet cupcake. “And we did it!”

“And we made a mess.” Y/N gestures to the kitchen around them, which looks like a warzone.  Flour, powdered sugar, and cocoa powder cover every counter surface.  There are broken eggshells on the counter, splatters of batter everywhere, and both Y/N and Harry have dyed red hands from food colouring.

“It could be worse.” Harry shrugs, clearly untroubled. “C’mon.  Try a cupcake.”

Y/N reaches for one, but Harry simply lifts the one in his hand to her mouth.  She locks eyes with him as she takes a bite, the icing smearing across her top lip.

Y/N chews slowly and swallows hard. “Yeah.  They’re good.”

Harry extends a hand, and his finger runs along her lip, collecting the icing.  He pops it into his mouth, sucking for a moment before humming in agreement. “Yeah.  Sweet.”

The cupcakes, it turns out, pair well with watermelon cocktails, and soon Y/N and Harry are sitting on the couch, takeout and cupcakes in front of them and drinks in their hands as they giggle and talk.  They’re intoxicated, but not just from the alcohol in the strong drinks that Harry makes.

“Honestly, working from home isn’t ideal, but it’s not that bad.” Y/N pops a bite of food into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Definitely not the worst part of quarantine.”

“Yeah?” Harry leans back on the couch. “What’s the worst part?”

Y/N shrugs. “It sucks being away from people, cooped up inside.”

Harry nods, but his face looks wistful. “I miss sex.”

Y/N laughs, but she nods in agreement as well. “Fuck, I know.  I miss sex so much.”

“It’s nice, you know? A good way to burn some energy…always sleep so well after…” Harry sighs, taking a sip of his drink between his phrases. “I feel like I’m back on a tour bus again, with no one around but my hand.”

A giggle escapes Y/N’s mouth. “How tragic.” She also takes a sip of her drink, and tries to stop herself from making a face.  Harry really does make them strong. “I just miss touching.  I haven’t been this touch starved since I was seventeen.”

Harry makes a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. “We touch.”

“That’s different.” Y/N finishes her drink. “That’s friendly touching.  It’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean, then?” Harry challenges her, a glint in his eyes that Y/N’s come to recognize as a sign of trouble.

She refuses to take the bait. “You know what I meant.”

“I don’t.” Harry says it innocently, and he reaches forward to take her glass from her. “How about I get us some refills while you think of how to say it?”

Y/N lets him take the glass (she loves his drinks, despite how strong they are), but shakes her head. “Stop being an ass.  You know exactly what I meant.”

A low laugh rolls out of Harry as he walks to the built-in bar he has in the lounge.  He begins to recreate the drinks, muddling this, adding a splash of that.  If Harry wasn’t already a rock star, she’d suggest he become a mixologist.

“Maybe I do know what you meant.” Harry shakes the cocktail shaker with ease before straining the liquid out over their glasses, which he’s filled with fresh ice. “But I want to hear you say it.”

Y/N runs a hand through her hair.  She feels warm from the alcohol, and the lit candles around them aren’t helping.  The food and cupcakes sit on the table, all but forgotten in their new conversation. “Say what?”

Harry’s lips pull up in a smirk, but his eyes show something else.  He walks back over and hands her the drink before taking a seat next to her again. “The kind of touching you miss.”

Their fingers touch as Y/N takes the glass from him, and suddenly the warmth of the room feels ten times hotter. “You want me to say it?”

Harry lifts his glass to his lips, but keeps his eyes on her. “I do.”

“I…” Y/N takes a sip of the drink (which is stronger than the one before) and then presses the cold glass to her cheek. “I miss touching.  Intimate touching.  And…being touched intimately.”  

Harry inhales deeply, stretching out his shoulders before responding. “Yeah.  I miss that too.  Holding hands, touching someone’s stomach, chest, legs…having them play with my hair…”

“I play with your hair.” Y/N says defensively, a crease appearing between her eyebrows.

Harry laughs once. “Right, but like you said…that’s different.”

Y/N clears her throat. “Right.”

Harry takes a long sip from his drink. “’S still nice, though.” Harry adds after a moment, licking his lips. “I love when you play with my hair.  You know that.”

Nodding softly, Y/N begins to trail a finger over the rim of her glass.  Whenever she begins to get tipsy, she begins to fidget more, and feel freer in her actions.  And when Y/N glances back at Harry, she can tell he recognizes the sign as well.

“What about you?” He asks, bringing her back from her thoughts. “What do you miss having people do?”

Y/N drinks again, pulling her knees to her chest as she leans against the couch’s armrest. “I miss…having my hair played with, too.  That’s always nice.  I miss having my fingers played with…neck kisses…I like when people, like, rub my arms or thighs, just absentmindedly…” She leans her head against her arm. “Your turn.”

“My turn?” Harry rubs his nose lightly, and Y/N can tell he’s feeling the alcohol, too. “What’s my turn?”

“Tell me what else you like.” Y/N smiles softly, a small laugh just barely bubbling out from her. “We’ve never actually talked about it, H.  Isn’t that strange?”

Harry turns to face her more, pausing to think for a moment. “I suppose we’ve never been specific before, yeah.” He taps his thumb against his H ring. “I like being in control, usually. Telling them what to do, where to touch me…” His eyes get a faraway look in them. “But sometimes it’s nice to give up control.  Have someone else…”

“Decide.” Y/N finishes his sentence for him when he trails off. “Yeah.  I’m more like that, I think.  I usually let someone else decide.  But I like the in-between, too.  Like…both exploring each other.”

“What do you mean?” Harry cocks his head to the side curiously.

Y/N shrugs loosely, her finger still tracing her glass. “’S hard to explain.”

Harry’s voice is low when he replies, almost like he’s somewhere else. “Try.”

“Well…” Y/N takes a drink before setting her glass down. “It’s like…do you remember your first time?”

Harry blinks, surprised at the question, but nods. “Yeah.  I do.”

“And remember how nervous you were?”

“Yeah.”

“And like…” Y/N plays with her fingers as she ponders her next words. “You were nervous, yeah, but there was also this excitement in you.  Kind of like…a breathlessness.  And you looked at the other person and knew they…”

Harry closes his eyes for a moment. “Felt the same.”

“Yeah.” Y/N tucks her hair behind her ears. “And just, like, being comfortable with them, and knowing you could both explore, and ask questions, and you were both together…” Y/N feels heat rise to her cheeks as she trails off. “I don’t know.  I feel like that’s rare, but I—it’s nice.  I like it.”

“Yeah.” Harry rubs his thumb over his lip as he shifts his position on the couch. “It’s nice, yeah. Rare, usually.  But nice.”

“I think it’s rare, because, like—” The alcohol makes it harder for Y/N to gather her thoughts, but also harder to sensor them. “I don’t know, I feel like when I was younger, and hadn’t had sex yet, I took more time with, like, finding the right person? Like I wanted it to be with someone who loved me for the first time, and someone I was comfortable with, and it was. And then after, the love part didn’t matter so much for me.” Y/N glances at Harry, who seems to be hanging on her every word. “Which, like, was fine.  What mattered to me the most was that whoever I had sex with respected me. And they did, so that was…good. But it’s different.” Y/N rubs her arms. “I don’t know if that makes sense…”

“It does.” Harry assures her, placing a light hand on her knee.  He begins to rub small circles. “Keep going.”

“I just think that, like, that in-between, breathless, exploring each other kind of thing…the comfort…that’s rare because it only really happens with someone you love.” Y/N murmurs. “At least, that’s how it is for me.  And I haven’t really been in love much in my life.”

“I’ve been in love probably too much.” Harry admits, his hand still on Y/N’s knee. “Too much to be good for me.”

Y/N shakes her head adamantly. “No, H.  That’s good. That’s…brave.  You’re not afraid of how you feel.  Most people are.”

“Maybe.” Harry finishes his drink again with one long gulp.  

Y/N watches as he does, seeing a little drip of liquid slip from the corner of his mouth.  She can’t stop herself from leaning forward and wiping it away with her thumb, feeling the stubble of Harry’s chin scratch against her.

Harry watches her with hooded eyes as she leans back to her previous position.  His hand slips a bit higher, from her knee to her lower thigh, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Who have you been in love with?” He asks.  His words are slurred a bit, and his accent seems thicker.

“My first boyfriend, Parker. You remember him.” Y/N sighs, closing her eyes as she herself remembers. “And…Christian, from university.  We were together for two years.  That’s it, I think.”

Despite the alcohol, Harry’s face still shows some surprise. “Really?  No one else?  No one since Christian?”

Y/N shrugs. “I’ve dated, yeah, and had relationships, but…I don’t know.  I didn’t love any of them.  I was…infatuated.  But I never…it was intense, but like—intense like a spark.  Nothing prolonged.”

Harry hums in response. “Thought you were going to say Niall for a moment.  He was pretty torn up when you went back to school after that summer.”

Y/N’s face mimics Harry’s surprise from a moment ago. “Was he?”

“Yeah.  Moped around a bit, spent time by himself, on his phone every two minutes…” Harry’s expression shows the difficulty it’s taking him to think back eight years while drunk. “I knew it was because you left.  Thought you two had an…agreement, or something.”

“An agreement?” A giggle escapes Y/N. “This isn’t a Jane Austen book, Harry.  We didn’t have an agreement.” Once she gets her laughter out, she sighs. “He was that upset?”

“Yeah.” Harry scratches the back of his neck. “So I thought…he must be in love with you.  And you were…”

“No, I wasn’t.” Y/N says softly. “He was so upset that you thought he was in love with me?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N bites her lip. “Was he more upset than you?”

Harry takes a moment to reply, looking at her with a serious expression.  His lips are so red, and his eyes are so green, and both of them are so drunk that neither of them can sense the meaning behind what they’re saying.

“No.” Harry finally responds. “He wasn’t.”

…

“Good morning.”

“Shhh.” Y/N covers her eyes with her arm. “Don’t yell in my ear.”

“I whispered.” Harry counters, but his voice is a bit quieter this time. “Do you have a headache?”

“I didn’t know something flavoured with watermelon could make me feel so shitty.” Y/N groans a bit, shifting on the bed without opening her eyes. “What did you do to me?”

When Harry laughs, it’s not audible, but Y/N can feel it through his chest pressed against her side.

“How are you completely fine right now?” She asks, rubbing her eyes.

“I’m used to it.  I’ve always been way better with hangovers than you.” Harry presses a small kiss to her shoulder before getting up. “How does breakfast in bed sound?”

“Normally amazing, but I can’t eat right now.” Y/N mutters. “How about coffee in bed?”

“Sure.” Harry smiles a bit. “You look cute like this.”

“Shut up.”

Harry returns ten minutes later with a tray of coffee, toast, and eggs, of which he manages to coax Y/N to take a few bites.  She doesn’t really want it, but she knows it’s easier to do as he says instead of arguing.

“How about we have a movie day today?” Harry suggests after breakfast. “In bed, since it seems like you won’t be moving anytime soon.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Y/N glares at him from the top of her coffee cup.

Harry raises his hands in defense. “Hey, I didn’t make you drink.  You chose to.”

“I know, but it’s easier to blame you.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Is that why you’ve been doing it for twenty years?”

“Exactly.”

Harry carefully lifts the empty tray to the ground before holding up the remote. “You can pick the movies.”

Y/N bites her lip. “If we watch Titanic, will you make fun of me when I cry?”

“Of course not.  I’ll even cry with you out of solidarity.”

“Alright.” Y/N settles back into the blankets. “Put it on, then.”

It’s easy for them to be like this, Y/N thinks, as Harry pulls her into his arms when the movie starts. It’s always been so natural for them to be physical and affectionate with each other.  They’ve never acted any other way.

Except this doesn’t feel like any other way.

Yes, Y/N has watched countless movies while cuddling in bed with Harry.  But has he ever whispered in her ear like that before?  Has he ever rubbed her sides so carefully before? Has he ever let his lips rest on the bare skin of her shoulder, almost at the base of her neck?

Y/N can’t recall. However, she’s certain that if he had, it hasn’t felt so electric.

“Look at them.  Look at how Jack watches her.” Harry murmurs his words directly in Y/N’s ear as they watch Jack draw Rose.  Y/N can feel his lips brushing against her, and the heat of his breath and tone of his voice makes her shiver.

“She’s very pretty.” Y/N nods, shifting in Harry’s arms.  She likes how warm he feels.

“I suppose, but that’s not what I meant.” Harry traces shapes on her arm. “I meant look at how he looks at her.  Do you think they have the kind of love you talked about last night?”

Y/N glances over her shoulder at him, surprised he remembers their conversation. “I think so.  Do you?”

“Yeah.” Harry says in a low voice.  He says no more, so Y/N turns back to face the television.

They continue to watch in silence, gripping each other a bit tighter as the Titanic begins to sink. As they watch a mother reading to her two young children in bed, Y/N begins to lose her composure, like always. Tears well in her eyes, and she lets out a quiet hitched breath, a single sniffle.

“It’s alright, love.” Harry’s hands move to her stomach, holding her tighter to comfort her. “Don’t cry.”

Y/N can hear the tears in his voice, just as they’re in her own. “Can’t help it.  This part and the band and the old couple in bed—they always get me.”

“I know.” Harry rubs his thumb along your side.

Y/N reaches behind her without turning around, threading her fingers through Harry’s messy curls.  She plays with them absentmindedly as she watches, and tries to ignore how right it feels to be close to him like this.  She wonders if he notices it, too.

Harry presses a chaste kiss to her shoulder.

…

The day they hit the one month mark of quarantine, Harry sits across from Y/N at breakfast with a determined look on his face.

“I have a proposition for you.”

Y/N glances up at him, her attention barely shifting from her book. “A proposition?”

“Yeah.”

“What kind of proposition?” Y/N tilts her head to the side.  What she first thought was just determination on Harry’s face, she realizes, is actually determination and mischief, and she knows it won’t end well.

“I haven’t had a tattoo in a while.” Harry steals a strawberry from Y/N’s plate. “And I have a machine here, so I was thinking you could give me one.”

Y/N stares at Harry incredulously as he pops the strawberry in his mouth. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Probably.”

“I’m a terrible artist, Harry.  You know that.” Y/N shakes her head. “And even if I wasn’t, I have no idea how to tattoo someone!”

“You can watch a YouTube tutorial, or read a WikiHow.” Harry sighs loudly. “I’m so bored in isolation!”

“What do you even want tattooed?” Y/N eyes the intricate tattoos on his arms suspiciously. “I doubt I could do something like your ship.”

“Something simple.” He shrugs. “Probably lettering.”

“Probably?” Y/N says suspiciously.

“That’s why I want you to do it.  I want it in your handwriting.”

Harry’s tone is easy, but it makes her breathing shallow.

“You do?”

“Yeah.  I was thinking of something to remind me of this time, because of how weird it is.”

Despite her increased heartbeat, Y/N laughs. “What, do you want me to tattoo COVID-19 on you?”

“No.  Be a little more creative than that.” Harry scoffs.

“Why do I have to be creative?”

“Because I want you to decide what I get.”

Y/N’s eyes widen. “You’re not serious.”

“I am!  Why is that so hard to believe?” Harry asks. “I trust you. And you’re good with words.”

“No.  Absolutely not.”

…

“Make sure my drink has two shots in it.” Y/N calls to Harry as she looks over the tattoo supplies on the living room table.

Harry laughs. “I’m not sure I want my tattoo artist to be drunk.”

“The only way I’ll even be your tattoo artist is if I’m drunk.” She counters. “I still think this is an awful idea.”

Harry hands Y/N a tall glass with a light pink liquid in it. “Drink this, and you’ll change your mind.”

Y/N takes the glass and takes a large gulp, not focusing on the taste of the mixers, but the liquid courage behind them.

Harry grins, lifting his own glass. “Cheers.”

“Shut up and sit down.” Y/N mutters.  She ties her hair back before grabbing the disinfectant wipes. “Where do you want this?”

“My upper inner arm. I already shaved it for you.” Harry smirks as he points to the area, which is easily exposed in his loose tank top.

“And you’re sure I can write it with pen?” Y/N asks nervously as she disinfects the area.

“Mhmm.” Harry leans back comfortably in his chair. “What did you decide on?”

“It’s a secret.” Y/N uncaps the pen, getting closer to him.

“So I can’t know until after it’s on me permanently?”

“Is that a problem?” Y/N asks innocently. “I thought you trusted me?”

Harry chuckles. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Also that I’m good with words.” Y/N makes sure Harry’s head is turned away before she carefully writes the phrase she chose.  Then she snaps on gloves and starts the machine like she watched in videos early that day.

“You’re fine, love.” Harry assures her, seeing the nervous look on her face. “It’s a small tattoo. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Quiet.” Y/N mutters. “I need to focus.”

True to Harry’s word, the small tattoo only takes a few minutes to finish.  When it’s done, Y/N gives it one final wipe before setting the machine down and taking off her gloves.

“Alright.” She picks up her glass and drains it completely. “You can look.”

Harry peers at his arm, curiosity clear on his face.  There, in Y/N’s loopy handwriting is the phrase “touch me.”

“It looks so fucking good, Y/N.” Harry grins at her. “You did amazing!”

“I didn’t fuck it up?” She asks, chewing on her lip anxiously. “Is it alright?”

“You did a lovely job.” Harry smiles. “Wrap it for me?”

Y/N does as he asks, carefully wrapping the fresh tattoo in plastic wrap and taping it to his arm. “I think I’ll accept my tip in the form of another drink.”

Harry snickers. “Coming right up.”

Two drinks later, they’re both back in the honest and loose headspace that they’ve grown familiar with. It’s not enough that they’re unaware of their actions, but both Y/N and Harry know that their lips are looser because of the liquor in their systems.

They’ve migrated to the bedroom to get comfier, but took a few items from the bar with them.  It’s with these items that Harry tops up Y/N’s glass again as he speaks.

“So tell me…” He sets the cocktail shaker on his bedside table. “Why ‘touch me’?”

“You said you wanted something to remind you of isolation.” Y/N takes a long sip of her drink. “And that’s what we both miss the most, right?  Being touched?”

Harry nods slowly, his rings clinking against his glass. “Yeah.  I’m probably going to go straight to the bars after this is all done.  Find someone there.”

He laughs lightly, showing that what he says it half a joke, but Y/N sighs wistfully and shakes her head in disagreement. “I won’t.”

“You won’t?” Harry is surprised, his laughter fading. “Why not?”

Her shrug almost causes her to spill her drink on the bed. “I don’t know.” Y/N sighs again. “I don’t really—I’m not a hookup fan.  Not right now, at least.  It’s not what I…want.”

“What do you want, then?” Harry finishes his drink, but sets the glass down instead of refilling it. “If not sex?”

“I want sex.” Y/N says defensively. “But I want—I don’t want it to be someone random.  I want sex, but I want to be…intimate.  Like, I want to know that person cares about me, and I care about them.”

Harry licks the last of his drink from his lips. “Like that breathless feeling?”

“No.  It would be nice, but no.  That takes time.” Y/N brushes her hair behind her ear. “Just…someone who cares.  I don’t want a quick fuck, I just—”

“You want to be touched. Intimately touched.” Harry takes the empty glass from Y/N’s hand and sets it down on the table next to the bed.

Y/N nods gently, her limbs feeling loose. “Yeah.  Intimately touched.”

“You know, I could…” Harry trails off, pursing his lips. “We could…do that.”

The alcohol makes Y/N slow to recognize the meaning of his words. “What?”

“I’ve noticed you…the way you look at me, it’s…different than it was.” Harry says carefully, his eyes gauging her reaction. “For the last few weeks.  And I—I know that I’m…attracted to you, too.”

“We…” Y/N struggles to think of what to say as she finally registers what’s happening. “We’re friends.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see you as attractive.” Harry looks down at his hands. “Don’t you…?  I mean…”

“I—yeah.  I think you’re—” Y/N laughs a bit nervously. “You’re attractive, H, you know that.  We’ve just never…discussed it.”

“I’m not saying we have to fuck, or—we don’t have to do anything.” Harry straightens his shoulders and looks you in the eye. “Just—when we touch, it’s mild.  If you want to be touched intimately, we could…”

“Like, a hand job?” Y/N says slowly, her words blunt with confusion.

Harry goes a bit red, but he shakes his head quickly. “No, Christ, that’s not what I meant, I—just—can I show you?”

“Um,” Y/N swallows hard. “Sure.”

“Okay.” Harry nods slightly, taking carefully measured breaths. “If this feels weird, or anything seems wrong, just tell me to stop, alright?”

Y/N replies faintly. “Alright.”

Nodding again, Harry moves closer on the bed, sitting on his knees so he can get closer to Y/N, who sits cross-legged.  His hands rest lightly on her bare thighs, and his rings are a cool contrast to his warm skin.

Harry begins to rub his hands up and down her thighs slowly.  His movements are measured, and he watches Y/N’s reaction carefully for a sign of her disliking his actions.  However, what he finds is a nervous but interested girl staring back at him.

“Like this.  Like, what you like.” Harry says lowly.  His hands move more to her inner thighs, but they don’t creep higher. “And…”

“And…?” Y/N asks, her heart rate increasing even more.

Harry moves one hand to the hem of Y/N’s tank top, pushing it up a bit so his hand can rest on her waist. He rubs over her warm skin, marvelling in how smooth and soft it is to his touch.  His fingers graze the lace of her bra, but he goes no higher.

“How—how’s that?” Harry asks quietly.

“It’s, um, it’s good.” Y/N replies as she struggles to keep her voice normal. “Yeah.  Good.  But, um, can you…” Harry’s movements pause at her words, and Y/N feels her cheeks get even warmer. “Maybe touch my, uh, my neck.  If you’d like.”

Harry nods, and the hand on her thigh moves to her neck.  He traces his fingers across her shoulder and over her collarbone, delighting in feeling the curves of her body.  Y/N’s breath hitches when his fingers travel up her neck, and Harry swears he can feel her pulse increase under his fingers.

Y/N’s not sure if it’s the fact that she’s touch starved from self isolating that makes Harry’s touches feel so good, or if it’s the fact that it’s Harry touching her, but she doesn’t dwell on it.  Instead, she closes her eyes and tilts her head back, allowing him better access.

She feels Harry’s breath before she feels his lips, but she’s still surprised when she feels him begin to sponge light kisses across her neck.

“H…”

“Is this alright?” He asks the question right below her ear, and yet she can barely hear him because he’s so quiet.

“Yes.” Y/N breathes. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Harry returns to pressing light kisses to her skin, his hands still rubbing over her sides and hips.

For the first time since seeing Harry naked in her bathroom, Y/N can’t deny or explain away her attraction to him.  She can’t convince herself that she doesn’t want him to touch her, because she does, and she can’t tell herself that she doesn’t need him, because she does. Every fibre of her being is telling her that she needs Harry, and she needs him now.  Her heart is pounding, her skin is on fire, and her core feels like she’d going to explode if he doesn’t do something.  And yet, Y/N can’t tell him to touch her more.  She’s frozen, mind blank, and she can only register what Harry is doing at the moment as what she wants.

Harry continues to kiss her neck, never lingering too long in one spot, never sucking too hard. Every kiss is gentle and chaste, except the few rare ones that include the tip of his tongue running over her skin.

After what feels like an eternity, Harry pulls away from her neck, face flushed.  Despite his hands still on her body, Y/N makes an involuntary sound in the back of her throat.

“Is that better?” He asks lowly, rubbing his thumb against your hip.

“I—kind of.” Y/N says softly.  If anything, she thinks, it’s worse.  She needs to satisfy the burn inside her, but she doesn’t know how.

“Good.” Harry replies, but he doesn’t take his hands off her.

Y/N’s own hands have been sitting at her sides as his moved over her body, but she raises one now, as hesitant as Harry was.  She extends it towards his arm, but pauses with her fingers right over his skin.

“Is it okay if I…?”

The corner of Harry’s lips lifts up, just barely. “Yeah, love.  Go ahead.”

Harry’s skin is warm beneath her touch.  Y/N traces the outline of his mermaid tattoo carefully before moving onto others.  She loves how his arm curves under her touch, how he stays still and lets her explore.  She appreciates it, thinking that if Harry made any sudden movements, she’d force herself to pull away.

Soon, her fingers move from tracing his tattoos to tracing the lines of his muscles.  She moves down his forearm to his hand, running her fingers over the veins that show through his tan skin, over his knuckles, down the tips of his calloused fingers and back.  

Harry sucks in a breath, and Y/N’s trance flickers for a moment as her eyes move to his face to see what’s wrong.

“Sorry, just—surprised me.” Harry says, voice low yet sheepish.  He nods down to his thigh, where Y/N realizes her own hand is resting.

“Oh—” She moves to pull her hand away, but Harry places his own on top.

“It’s fine.” He says quickly. “Keep going.”

Y/N bites her lip as she turns her attention back to his arm.  Her fingers move slowly and carefully back up his forearm to his upper arm. She traces over his tattoos while she rubs her thumb gently against the muscle, and stops her fingers at the edge of his t-shirt sleeve.  With a quick glance at Harry, she pushes the sleeve up, tucking it up on his shoulder so she can run her fingers over his ship tattoo, which is one of her favourites.

“Feels nice.” Harry murmurs, his eyes following her movements.

Y/N glances back at his face, taking in his appearance.  His lips are red from the time he spent kissing her neck, and his cheeks are still flushed.  His eyes are darker than usual, and she’s not certain if it’s the candlelight or something else causing it.  There’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, with a few loose curls hanging down. Out of reflex, Y/N reaches up and pushes his hair back out of his eyes.

Before she can return her hand to his arm, Harry captures it in his own.  Y/N watches as he brings it to his lips, inhaling as her wrist passes underneath his nose.  Although she’s not sure why, there’s something about seeing how much smaller her hand is in Harry’s that delights her.

Harry presses a soft kiss to her wrist, following it up with another on her palm.  Y/N’s eyelids flutter at the tender sensation.

“It’s my turn to touch you.” She says softly, her voice strained.

Harry hums in reply. “I know.” He kisses your wrist once more before looking at you. “I’ll help.”

Lifting his hand from his thigh (your hand, which was underneath, stays where it is), he pulls up his shirt just enough that he can sneak your hand underneath.  He rests it on his lower chest, and even though his shirt is still partially covering him, Y/N knows she’s touching his butterfly tattoo.

“I like to be touched here.” Harry says in the same low voice.

“Okay.” Y/N bites her lip, her head swimming with alcohol and the smell of the candles and Harry’s cologne and Harry. “It…would be easier without your shirt.”

Without breaking eye contact, save for the moment fabric covers him, Harry pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side. “Better?”

Y/N’s eyes drift down to his tanned stomach.  His body is familiar and a stranger to her all at once.  She knows his tattoos, scars, every mark on his skin from a distance, but seeing it like this—touching it like this—makes her feel like she’s never truly seen him before.

“Better.” She manages to say, her hand brushing across his ribs.

Y/N spends a while exploring the planes of his stomach, the contours of his body.  When she gets to his v-lines, and runs her fingers over the ferns tattooed there, Harry shivers a bit, his hand gripping her knee tighter.

Y/N massages his thigh gently. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Harry clears his throat. “I’m good.”

“Okay.” Y/N nods, but moves her hand further up again, over his chest and over his collar bones.  She takes a moment to trace the lines of his neck, feel the beat if his pulse underneath her fingers, and then tangles her fingers in his hair.  She uses the leverage to tilt his head back a bit, and presses her lips to the base of his neck.

Harry’s cologne smells better up close, and Y/N adores the heat of his skin on her sensitive lips. She presses small kisses over the curve of his neck, pausing over his jugular.  Her tongue darts out and she carefully licks along it before ending the motion with a kiss.

“Christ…” Harry exhales slowly, the tips of his fingers digging into her knee slightly.

Y/N knows they’re crossing the threshold of just touching each other for the sake of touching.  She can feel herself dripping in her panties, and when her eyes flicker down, she can see the outline of Harry’s half hard cock in his shorts.  Together, they’ve reached the border of friends helping each other out, and she’s certain that she wants to cross it with him.  However, she’s not sure if they should.

Pulling back enough to look Harry in the eyes, Y/N clears her throat. “H, we—what are we doing?”

Harry waits a moment to answer. “I…I don’t know.  I have no fucking clue.”

“This isn’t friendly anymore.” Y/N’s voice drops to a whisper. “It’s not just—it’s intimate, yeah, but it’s more…” Her eyes move to the outline of his hardening cock once more before looking back up at his face. “It’s more.”

“Yeah.  It’s more.” Harry moves his hand further up her thigh again, rubbing slow circles. “But I don’t want to stop.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. “You don’t?”

“It’s been so long since…” Harry trails off, his gaze drifting down to your lips before returning to your eyes. “And it’s you.  I’ve always wondered if—we—”

“I’ve wondered, too.” Y/N admits, her voice filled with nerves.  Are they really discussing this? “Especially since that day, in the bathroom—”

“I wondered if you looked then.” Harry’s voice drops lower (which Y/N didn’t think was possible). “I thought about it later that day.  I—fuck, I wanted you to look.”

A small noise escapes the back of Y/N’s throat. “This—we’ve been drinking, and—it’s the alcohol, H. Neither of us is thinking straight.”

“This isn’t the alcohol talking.  I’ve thought about—when we’re in the pool, when we cuddle, when we flirt, I—I can’t help it.” Harry closes his eyes for a brief moment, like he’s collecting himself. “I need you.  And I think…I think you need me too.”

“I do.  I need you.” Y/N touches his stubbled jaw with careful fingers. “But we’re friends.  This is going to change that.”

“We don’t know that.” Harry leans into her touch. “You said before that you wanted someone you’re comfortable with, something intimate, something breathless.  You and I are comfortable, and intimate, and—I don’t know.  All I know for sure is that I want you.”

Y/N isn’t sure if he means he wants her in a purely physical way or something more, and while she knows she should clarify that, all she can focus on is his voice and the way it’s going straight to her core.

“I want you, too.” She says simply.

Harry brings his hand to Y/N’s hip. “Can I kiss you?”

Y/N nods.  She’s not sure she’s capable of giving a verbal response.

Harry takes it upon himself to lean closer, his fingertips digging into Y/N’s skin in a way she adores. He pauses, hovering just above her lips for a moment, as if to give her time to pull away.  Instead, Y/N just waits in anticipation, delighting in the feeling of his breath running over her skin.

When he kisses her, Y/N tastes alcohol, mint, and what she swears is her own heart in the back of her throat.

Any previous kisses she’s shared with Harry have been half kisses, given in teenage games of truth or dare and in a friend’s parent’s basement.  Those kisses were safe, guarded, and an obligation.  This kiss is the exact opposite.

Although it starts chaste, it quickly grows more passionate.  Y/N can’t stop herself from tugging on Harry’s hair more than she imagines Harry can stop himself from rucking up the hem of her tank top.  His fingers dip under the band of her lace bralette as she nips at his lip, tugging slightly, delighted when a strangled sound echoes from the back of his throat.

Within minutes, Y/N’s allowed Harry to pull her to straddle his lap, his hands grabbing at her hips with a neediness she’s never seen him exhibit before.  Of course, she feels the same way, and she lets her hand run down his chest over and over, using her nails a little more each time.  Although there’s no one around to see, no party to return to, nowhere to go, Y/N wants to leave a mark.  She wants anyone who sees his chest to know that he belongs to her.

Harry breaks away from her, lips red, eyes frenzied, and breathing heavy. “Can I—?” His hands tug on the hem of her top, tugging in question.

Y/N lifts her arms in response, letting him pull it off and toss it to the side.  Harry moves back in to kiss her again, but she keeps her arms up, giving him a long look.

“You’re not done.” She says simply.

He understands right away, and his fingers find the band of her bralette again.  This time, however, he removes it slower, almost as if the removal is ritual itself, and his hands are less frantic when they return to your skin.

Harry looks at Y/Nu with wide eyes, and she understands the meaning in them: this is so much more than just touching, and so much more than two friends using each other for mutual pleasure.  With every touch, they further cross a line, and neither of them can stop.  

With this realization, Harry’s movements become more cautious.  His hands come to rest on her sides, his thumbs just brushing the side of her breast.

“You’re fine.” Y/N assures him in a soothing voice. “Keep going.”

“Are you fine?” He counters, his voice an equal mix of concern and need.

“H.” Y/N takes his hands in her own and places them over her breasts. “Like that.  Touch me like that.”

Harry sucks in a short breath as she manipulates his hands, showing him how to rub her and touch her. After a few moments, she lets her hands move to his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

Y/N begins to grind against him, desperate for a bit of friction.  Their kisses are soon accented with their moans as they each pull the other closer in lust and need.

Still, underneath the physical desires, there’s a current running between them.  Y/N knows it’s been there for the last few weeks, humming quietly in the back of her mind, but being here, now, with Harry touching her, it’s come alive like an electric fence.  She can’t turn it off, and she doesn’t want to.  She doesn’t want to in the slightest.

Harry begins to kiss down her neck like before, but this time his kisses are anything but chaste. When he reaches her breast, he kisses around them before taking one of her nipples into his mouth.

“Oh fuck—” Y/N arches her back, fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. “Harry…”

He hums against her, and his spare hand rubs her back like he does when they get ready to sleep.  Usually, the motion is calming, but right now, Y/N feels anything but calm.

Harry continues until he’s satisfied with his work, and then he kisses his way to her other breast, wrapping his lips against her other nipple.  He spends just as much time on that one, letting his teeth graze it ever so slightly before soothing the action with his tongue.

When he pulls back, there’s a little line of spit connecting Harry’s mouth to her nipple, and Y/N whimpers at the sight.

“H…” She runs her finger through the line before gripping his chin with her thumb and forefinger.  The need inside her builds, as does her fondness for the man in front of her. “God…”

Harry tweaks her hard nipple with his finger, gentle enough so as not to hurt her, but enough to make a gasp fall from her mouth.  He offers no response in the form of words, but the hungry look in his eyes has only increased.

“Let me…” Y/N climbs off of his lap, gently pushing him to lay back on the bed. “Yeah?”

Harry runs a hand through his messy curls, nodding quickly. “You want that?”

“Yeah.” Y/N nods too, pressing a wet kiss to his swollen lips. “So bad.  Yeah.”

Her hands move to the waistband of his shorts, and Harry lifts his hips off the bed.  Y/N tugs down his boxers in the same movement, and tosses both articles of clothing to the side before looking back at him.

Harry’s cock is just as beautiful as she remembers it being the morning she accidentally walked in on him. Even more so, she thinks, because now he’s hard, and the head is the most appetizing shade of pink, with drops of precum pearling at the top.  When Y/N wraps her hand around his girth, she adores the heat that she feels.  

“So pretty…” She says the words almost to herself, and strokes him lightly to get used to the feeling of him in her hand. “I just want to…”

Y/N leans down and flicks her tongue over his tip, collecting the precum gathered there.  In return, a strangled moan leaves Harry’s throat as his arm moves to cover his eyes for a moment.

Y/N presses a kiss to the head of his cock before she continues licking, reveling in the sounds Harry makes.  She had no doubt, with a voice as angelic as his, that his moans and whines and whimpers would be just as beautiful.

When she wraps her lips around the head and sucks, she feels Harry’s hand move to her hair.  She looks up at him without lifting off of his cock, staring him in the eye as she takes more and more of him into her mouth.

“Fuck—” Another moan leaves Harry’s lips, more strained than the last. “That’s it…” He tugs on her hair, but doesn’t push her down.  Even when lost in pleasure, he’s careful with her.

Y/N loves him for it.

Pacing herself, she takes more and more of him into her mouth until her nose is pressed to the base of his stomach, brushing against his (neatly trimmed) pubic hair.  She stays down for just a moment before pulling up completely to breathe, but keeps her hand on him, stroking him slowly.

“You look so good.” Harry mutters, running his hands over her hair in a soothing motion. “I imagined it, but didn’t think…so much better…”

Y/N moves to push her head back down, but Harry stops her, bringing her up for a kiss instead.

“I want to taste you, now.” He tells her, laying her down on the pillows. “Is that alright?”

Y/N nods desperately, feeling even more heat rush to her core and pool there. “Mhmm.”

Harry kisses his way down her body again, slipping his fingers into the waistband of her shorts. He leaves her panties on as he pulls the shorts down, and lets out a low groan at the sight of her pink Calvin Klein panties, and more specifically, the dark pink spot that’s apparent on them.

“You’re soaked…” He presses a kiss to her sensitive inner thigh before brushing a finger over the wet spot.

Y/N jumps a bit, making a sound in the back of her throat. “Harry!”

“Sorry.” He kisses her thigh again. “I’m sorry.  Just relax, yeah?  It’s just me. I got you.”

Harry continues to kiss along her inner thighs, moving closer and closer to the thin cloth covering her center.  When he presses his first kiss to the fabric, Y/N grasps the sheets in her hands.

“God…” She whispers, fists clenched.

Harry reaches up and takes one of her hands, placing it in his hair wordlessly before kissing over her again, his tongue peaking out just a bit.

The torture continues for what feels like forever, with Harry teasing her over the soaked fabric of her panties.  Finally, Y/N sighs in relief as she feels his hands grip the fabric, and she lifts her hips eagerly as he tugs the article of clothing down.

The first thing she feels is his hot breath hitting her core, which is enough to make her legs reflexively close with pleasure.  Harry’s hand grips her leg, pushing them back open as he takes in the sight of her dripping cunt before him.

“Fuck…” He inhales deeply, committing her scent to memory. “Your pussy is so gorgeous.”

Y/N whimpers at his words and tugs on his curls. “Please, H…I need you.”

“Need me?” Harry asks in a husky voice, his finger touching her outer lips just barely.

“Yes!” Y/N whines, not caring how she sounds. “Never needed anything more…”

Harry runs his finger over her slit, collecting the wetness dripping from her.  YN moans loudly at the contact, not fully relieved but grateful for the light touch.

“So fucking wet.” Harry’s voice sounds not completely his own. “Fuck, Y/N, how are you so wet?”

Y/N feels heat rush to her cheeks, and she mumbles her reply in what’s almost an embarrassed voice. “You know exactly how.”

“Don’t even know what to do first.” Harry ignores her reply, lost in his own world as he continues stroking her slit. “Just want…”

He presses into her without warning, and Y/N arches her back off the bed as Harry’s finger slips into her cunt.  His cold rings touch the top of her entrance as Harry pauses inside her, his eyes heavy with lust.

“And so tight.” He moans, biting his lip hard enough to leave a mark. “Oh my God…”

He curves his finger inside her, wanting to feel every inch of her that he can.  Y/N continues to whimper above him.

“More.” She begs him, pushing back against his finger. “I can take more, Harry, please.”

Harry easily slips enough finger in, repeating his motion as she pushes back on him.  However, the pressure building inside Y/N disappears abruptly as his fingers do, and she’s just about to get angry at him when she feels his tongue replace his fingers.

“Fuck!” She exclaims loudly, her eyes closing as she throws her head back. “Harry—!”

Harry moves his tongue in and out of her, loving the taste of her juices in his mouth.  He moves further up to her clit, licking and sucking over the sensitive bundle of nerves as Y/N writhes above him.

“Taste so good.” He growls from between her thighs. “Fuck, Y/N…you’re going to cum for me, yeah?” He asks as he reaches up and grips her hands in his, interlocking their fingers. “Tell me you’re going to cum for me.”

Another strangled moan leaves Y/N’s mouth as he speaks. “I-I’m so close, Harry. Keep going, please.”

“Tell me.” He demands, licking over her clit again. “Tell me you’re going to cum for me.”

Y/N grinds against his tongue as she grips his hands tighter. “I’m going—fuck—I’m going to cum for you, H.  I’m going—”

Harry sucks hard on her clit, and Y/N throws her head back as an orgasm hits her harder than ever before.  Her thighs clench shut, trapping Harry’s head between them, but he just continues to lap at the juices flowing from her cunt while making the most obscene sounds Y/N has ever heard.

Harry doesn’t pull back until Y/N unclenches her thighs, and before he does, he presses one last kiss to her clit, making her flinch.  

Y/N is so exhausted she can barely open her eyes.  Once she does, however, and sees Harry, she feels all the exhaustion fade.

Harry’s lips are, somehow, even more red than before, and his whole chin is slick with her wetness.  He keeps licking his lips, like he can’t get enough of the taste, and Y/N feels like her whole body is on fire.

“Harry…” She whispers, squeezing his hand again.  She doesn’t know what else to say.

Harry lifts himself over her body, which is still shaking from her orgasm, and kisses her gently.  She can taste herself on his mouth, and she adores it.

“You taste so fucking good.” He murmurs, pressing his sweaty forehead against hers. “Like candy.”

Y/N swallows hard. “I haven’t—no one’s done that in a long time.”

“I’ll be glad to do it again.” Harry replies, brushing her hair back. “But right now…all I want to do is make love to you.” He looks at her with sincere eyes. “Will you let me?”

The tenderness of him asking almost brings tears to her eyes, and Y/N nods, her hands coming up to cup his rosy cheeks. “Yeah, H.  I’m…” She bites her lip as she realizes the truth of her words. “I’m yours.  Always.”

Harry inhales sharply before kissing her softly, his hands stroking her hair in a comforting fashion again. “How do you want to…?”

“I want you on top.” Y/N replies, touching his swallow tattoos. “I-I want to feel you.  Feel your weight.  Feel you close.”

With a nod, Harry positions himself over her, spreading her legs wide enough that his body can fit between.  He holds himself up with one hand and uses the other to guide his cock to Y/N’s folds, just brushing the head over them.  He’s teasing himself just as much as her.

“Harry…” Y/N leans her head back at the sensation. “Please, H…”

“I don’t—wait—” Harry pauses his movements, and Y/N can see on his face the strength and discipline it takes for him to do so. “I—a condom—”

“I’m clean, and I have an IUD.” Y/N assures him, running her hand along his shoulders. “Are you?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I am, but—are you sure?”

As Y/N looks into his eyes, the love and concern and want written all over them, she knows she’s never been more sure of anything in her life. “I want to feel you, without anything in between.  I—” She takes a deep breath and presses a kiss to his jaw. “Yeah.  I’m sure.”

Harry presses a kiss to her forehead, and the tender action makes Y/N close her eyes as she revels in the feeling.  A moment later, Harry moves down again and puts his forehead against hers as he pushes into her.

The moment he enters her, Y/N feels a fullness she’s never experienced before.  Not only is Harry stretching her cunt in a way that feels euphoric, but she feels complete.  He’s as close to her as he’s ever been, his breath is mingling with hers, his body weight is held over her carefully, and Y/N thinks she could die in the pleasure of this moment happily.

“Y/N…baby…” The pet name seems to fall easily from Harry’s lips as he bottoms out, holding himself still to adjust to the feeling. “Oh my God…”

Y/N digs her fingernails into Harry’s shoulders, pressing kisses to his lips between gasps for breath. “Move, H, please.”

Harry begins to thrust his hips, setting a slow but deep pace before gradually speeding up.  While part of Y/N wishes he would thrust as fast as he can, a deeper part of her is grateful that Harry is taking his time with her.  This feeling, now that she has it, is better than anything she’d ever felt before, and Y/N doesn’t want it to end anytime soon.

Harry kisses Y/N again as he moves inside her.  Although they’re as close as they’ve ever been, each of them keeps pulling the other closer.  As Harry thrusts deeper, Y/N pulls more of his weight down on her.  As Y/N scratches her nails down his back, Harry kisses her jaw. Neither of them can process exactly what they’re doing, but neither of them can stop.  Each touch is tender, each kiss is passionate, and each moment brings them closer together in so many more ways than just physical.

They don’t speak except for the occasional whisper from Y/N for Harry to move faster, or the occasional moan of Y/N’s name falling from Harry’s lips. The only constant sounds in the room are of the slickness between Y/N’s thighs as Harry moves between them, the sound of his skin meeting hers, both of them panting and moaning, and a few whispers of “please” that are barely audible.  Despite the lack of speech, however, the two are in constant communication.  Kissing, biting, scratching, and squeezing have become the vocabulary of their new language.  When Harry looks into Y/N’s wet eyes, he knows that she feels something running through the very depths of her being.  When Y/N feels Harry tuck his head between her neck and her shoulder as he whimpers, she knows that he trusts her to comfort him and hold him there.

Soon, Y/N feels the waves of pleasure begin to build, and she knows that when they finally break, they’ll pull her under. “H, I—fuck—I—” She can’t manage to form the sentence she needs to.

Harry, however, can tell exactly what she’s going to say. “Please.” He pants, adoring how she buries her head into his shoulder. “Please, love, cum for me…” He kisses over the shell of her ear as he thrusts deeper. “Need you.”

Y/N whimpers, biting down on Harry’s shoulder as her orgasm rolls over her. Harry feels her walls tighten around his cock, but he doesn’t slow down, and he works her through her climax until she whines in his ear.

“So good, H…” Y/N can barely find the strength to whisper the phrase.

Hearing her sound so fucked out, feeling her cunt squeezing him, and seeing the euphoria on her face is enough to bring Harry to the edge.  He slows his thrusts, about to pull out, but Y/N presses on his back to keep him close.

Harry groans as a shiver rolls through his body. “I’m about to cum, Y/N—”

“Stay inside me.” She pleads, pressing the pads of her fingers between his shoulder blades. “I-I’m yours, Harry, I told you.  Yours.”

Y/N looks up at him with such trusting and vulnerable eyes that Harry can’t make himself argue with her.  He nods instead, his thrusts increasing in speed again until he feels himself reach the edge of pleasure.  

As he freefalls into Y/N, his hips stutter, and he presses deep inside her while her name falls from his lips over and over again.  He can’t think of anything else to say.  He can’t think of anything else worth saying.

When Harry finally manages to pull himself together enough to pull out, Y/N instantly feels the emptiness inside her.  She wishes he would stay, but knows that it’s not practical, and instead just relishes in the feeling of his cum dripping from her entrance.  It’s like he’s claimed her as his, left a physical mark of himself, and Y/N doesn’t have the strength to stop herself from loving it.

They lay in silence for a few moments, trying to catch their breath and regain a sense of where they are.  Both Harry and Y/N are sweaty, exhausted, and covered in each other in more ways than one.  The wrap on Harry’s tattoo has slipped from his arm.  Somewhere in their pleasure, Y/N has lost an earring.  And yet, the only thing each of them cares about is looking at the other.

Out of instinct, Harry pulls Y/N’s shivering body into his, wrapping his arms around her tightly.  He can’t imagine she’s cold, and Y/N can’t bring herself to tell him she’s shivering because of the feeling of being so close to him, but neither of them denies the other of the affectionate gesture.

Y/N loses track of how long they lay there until Harry breaks the silence.

“I—” His voice cracks, and he clears it quickly before trying again. “I’ll get you a cloth to—to clean you up.”

Y/N nods, and Harry gently untangles himself from her before going to the bathroom.  Y/N can hear the running of water, and turns her head to see what he’s doing, but when she spots his naked silhouette, she closes her eyes.  Despite what they just did, there’s a shyness in her still when she sees him completely stripped.

Her eyes stay closed, and she only detects his return from feeling his weight return to the bed.  He places a gentle hand on her trembling knee, pulling her open ever so slightly.

“’M just cleaning you up.” Harry says in a quiet tone. “Is that okay?”

Y/N nods again.  She’s not certain she has enough strength to say anything.

Harry wipes between her legs with a gentle touch, watching how she flinches at the slightest of pressure. “I’m sorry.” He says sincerely, kissing her knee tenderly before continuing. “You’re sensitive, I know.  Almost done.”

Once he finishes wiping away the cum dripping out of her (his cum dripping out of her), Harry tosses the cloth onto his pile of clothes on the ground, deciding it can be dealt with later.  His most pressing concern at the moment is Y/N.

He lays back down on his side so he can face her, and pushes a lock of hair away from her closed eyes.

“Y/N.” Harry murmurs, hand resting on her waist carefully. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is rough when she answers, and Harry can hear the echo of her moans in her words. “I-I’m fine, H.  Just…tired.”

“Do you…” Harry bites his lip. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Y/N gives a slight shake of her head. “Maybe—maybe tomorrow, yeah?” She does her best to open one eye, but quickly shuts it again when she sees how Harry is looking at her. “Can’t right now.”

“Okay.” Harry lays his arm over her side as he moves closer. “Tomorrow.”

Y/N presses her head into his shoulder and commits the scent of his skin to memory.

…

The first thing Y/N registers when she wakes up is the feeling of someone touching her hair.

She doesn’t need to open her eyes to know it’s Harry.  Of course it’s Harry.  It’s always been Harry.  In every way.

Y/N sighs and readjusts her position in bed, moving a bit closer to Harry.  She shivers once from the cold, still naked from last night’s activities, and that’s the only hint Harry needs before he pulls the sheet up around her more.

“Are you awake?” He asks softly, careful in case she’s still lost deep in sleep.

Y/N moves her head in a passable nodding motion, and her voice is thick with sleep when she answers. “Mhmm.  Barely.”

A low chuckle escapes from Harry’s mouth, and the next thing Y/N feels are his warm lips against her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“A little hungover.  A little sore.” Y/N finally opens her eyes as she speaks, and almost wishes she hadn’t.

Harry’s hair is a mess from both sex and sleep, messy and wild and haphazardly pushed out of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed, and his neck and chest are covered in marks from both Y/N’s lips and fingers.  She knows that if he turned over, his back would be the same, and it embarrasses her and delights her at the same time.  He looks completely fucked and content, and more relaxed than she’s seen him in ages.

Y/N wonders if she looks the same.  If she looks as pretty.

“Sorry.” Harry says, his tone a bit sheepish.

“It’s not your fault.” Y/N replies, shrugging a bit.

“Well…it is, actually.  I made your drinks.  And I…” He trails off, brushing his fingers down her bare hip to her thigh.

“Yeah.” Y/N feels her face get warm. “I guess it is your fault.”

Harry laughs lightly, but it fades away as he looks into her eyes. “We, uh…we should probably talk about what happened.”

Y/N purses her lips. “Yeah. We should.”

“So…first question, I guess.” Harry props his head up on his arm, but keeps running his fingers over Y/N’s hip gently. “Do you regret it?”

Y/N sits up a bit more in bed, clutching the sheet to her bare chest. “No.  I don’t.  Do you?”

“No.” Harry replies instantly. “I don’t regret it.”

“Okay.” Y/N is so aware of Harry’s eyes on her as she thinks of her question. “Did…did you enjoy it?”

A snort falls from Harry’s mouth, and he shakes his head incredulously. “Christ, Y/N, of course I enjoyed it.  It felt—you felt like heaven.”

Y/N flushes at the comment. “I’ve never…I’ve always made my partners wear condoms.  So that was a first for me.”

Harry’s fingers pause over her hip, but only for a moment.  It looks as though he’s deciding whether or not he should comment on that, but changes his mind at the last moment. “Did you enjoy it?” He asks instead, echoing your question.

“I did.”

“You said you were mine.”

Y/N swallows hard. This conversation is less incriminating than making love to him last night, but it seems infinitely more powerful. Probably because they’re both sober, she thinks.

“That—” She clears her throat. “That’s not a question.”

Harry sighs, but there’s an endeared smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You said you were mine. Did you mean that?”

Y/N can’t look him in the eyes, so she looks down instead.  Harry’s hand lies between them, and she intertwines their fingers, playing with his rings as she carefully formulates her answer. “I’ve—I’ve always been yours, H.  Ever since we were kids, I’ve belonged to you.” She runs a finger over his H ring. “Even when you were gone.”

Harry frowns a bit at the tone of her voice. “I’ve been yours too, Y/N.  I belong to you just as much as you belong to me.”

“You’ve always been further out of reach.” Y/N pulls her hand from his, until their fingertips are just barely touching. “Always just…a little out of reach.”

Harry intertwines their fingers again. “I’m not out of reach.  Not right now.  And I’ve never—if you ever called me and said you needed me, I would’ve been on the first flight back home to you.  I would’ve dropped everything for you, Y/N.  I still would, and I always will.”

Tears prick Y/N’s eyes, and although she hurries to close them, one slips out.  Harry catches it on his finger before it can run off her cheek, and when she looks at him again, there’s a concerned look on his face.

“C’mere.” Harry mumbles, pulling Y/N into a tight hug.  He rubs her back like he always does, and the motion is so comforting that she almost forgets the vulnerable position they’re both in. “You’re my girl.  You’re always going to be my girl.” He murmurs in her ear, voice low and soothing. “Always.  Don’t you know that?”

Y/N nods, not trusting her voice at the moment.

“If this is too much for you…” Harry traces his fingers between her shoulder blades.  Y/N thinks he’s tracing words, like they used to as children, but she can’t tell what words he may be tracing. “I understand. We can just—we can pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I—” Y/N shakes her head, looking up at Harry. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Then what do you want, Y/N?” Harry asks, his tone as pleading as it was last night. “All I’ve ever tried to do is give you what you want, and usually I’m pretty good at telling what that is, but right now, I’m lost.  I don’t want things to go back to how they were, but I don’t—I can’t lose you, so just—if you just tell me what you want, I’ll do it.  I’ll make it work.  I promise that I won’t be mad, or hurt, or anything.”

Y/N sits up as best she can, her fingers combing through Harry’s messy curls on reflex, as she always does it when he gets upset. “I can’t pretend that I don’t want you, H.  I do.  I need you.  I told you that last night.”

“But you’re crying.” Harry cups her wet cheek gently, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone. “I hate that.”

Y/N leans into his touch. “It just feels…strange.” She says after a moment. “All of this.  I spent so long trying to stop myself from thinking of you like this, and now that I am, I feel like—like it’s wrong.”

Harry tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth. “Does it feel wrong?”

His low voice makes her shiver. “No.  It feels right.  Really right.”

“I feel like…” Harry’s eyes flicker between Y/N’s own eyes and their intertwined hands. “I feel like we’re both dancing around saying it.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. “Saying what?”

“Saying…” Harry leans in and presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Saying that we’re in love with each other.”

Y/N feels breathless at the words coming from his mouth. “You’re in love with me?”

“Are you not in love with me?” He replies, moving so he’s leaning over her more. “We’ve said I love you so many times before.”

“That’s a different kind of love.” Y/N mumbles, touching the chain dangling from Harry’s neck.

“But we were both meaning something different when we were saying it.  At least, I was.” Harry inhales deeply, like he’s centering himself. “I’ve known…for a while, but I’ve felt it for longer than I’ve known it. And I thought that you might…”

“I think I do.” Y/N whispers. “But saying it feels so—so permanent.  Like we can’t go back to being friends if it blows up in our faces.”

Harry traces a finger down Y/N’s cheek, her neck, between her breasts, to her side, touching just below her ribs. “Maybe we can’t.  But I don’t think we’ll want to, Y/N.  I think we’re perfect for each other.”

Y/N’s heart pounds in her chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods. “This last month, it’s been like we’ve been…playing house, or something.  I’ve loved it.  I keep hearing from friends saying that they’re so sick of the person they’re living with, so tired of them, but I’ve never felt that way about you, and I don’t think I ever will.  I’ll never get sick of you.”

Y/N laughs a bit. “That’s romantic.”

“Shut up.” Harry can’t help but smile slightly. “It is romantic.”

“Yeah.  It is.” Y/N says softly, her hand rubbing over Harry’s tattooed arm. “You’re really in love with me?”

Harry nods. “I am.”

“Huh.” Y/N bites her lip. “So I guess we’ve been lying to our moms, haven’t we?”

Harry laughs loudly, collapsing on the bed next to Y/N. “Jesus, can you not mention our mums when we’re naked in bed?”

“I’m just saying!  We’ve been saying for years that you’re not in love with me, and it’s all been a lie.”

“What about when they ask if you’re in love with me?” Harry’s tone is joking, but there’s a hint of nervousness in the back of his voice. “Has that been a lie, too?”

Y/N’s heart pounds as she nods. “Yeah.  We’ll have to get them something really good for Mother’s Day this year to help make up for it.”

A grin spreads over Harry’s face, almost triumphant, as he leans down to kiss her. “Agreed.” He moves to cage himself over Y/N. “But I want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“I want to hear you say that you’re in love with me.” Harry’s grin turns into a smirk.

Y/N flushes as she shakes her head. “You say it first.”

“I’ve already admitted it!”

“So have I!”

“Not as well as I have!”

“Oh, so it’s a competition now?” Y/N scoffs. “What a wonderful start to our relationship.”

“I’m just saying, Y/N, admitting it is the first step to—”

“Are you seriously going to say that to get me to say that I love you?”

“Just—”

“You’re so irritating—”

“I’m irritating?  You—”

“You’re the worst!”

“And yet you’re in my bed with no clothes on!”

“Okay.  Nope.  Relationship over.” Y/N pushes Harry off of her and wraps the sheet around herself as she gets out of bed. “You blew it, Styles.”

“Y/N.” Laughter falls from Harry’s lips as he leans over the edge of the bed. “Love.  Come back to bed.”

“I think a minute and thirty-seven seconds may be the record for the world’s shortest relationship.” Y/N searches her bag for some clean clothes.

“Come here!”

“Another world record for Harry Styles.” Y/N calls to him without turning around. “You must be so proud—”

Her words are cut off in a shriek as Harry picks her up, throwing her over his shoulder as he brings her back to his bed.

“Harry!” She yells, hitting his arm. “Put me down!”

Harry tosses her on the bed, gentle enough so as not to hurt her, and cages himself over her sheet-covered body.  He’s still completely bare. “Take it back.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Fine. We’re still together.  One less record for you.”

“Good.  Now…” Harry brushes a finger over her lips. “Say you’re in love with me.”

Y/N’s laughter fades a bit as the nerves set back in. “I…”

“Please, Y/N?” Harry murmurs, leaning down to kiss her neck. “Please say it.”

“I’m—” Y/N sucks in a quick breath, and all of her protest leaves her body as she exhales. “I’m in love with you, Harry.”

She can feel Harry’s lips forming a grin against her neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Y/N tugs on his hair gently, just enough so she can pull his head back to look in his eyes. “Now you say it.”

“Y/N.” Harry says her name like it’s something precious. “I’m in love with you.”

A flush of pleasure crawls up Y/N’s spine at his words, but she does her best to keep her tone light-hearted. “So are you calling our moms, or am I?”

“I’ll do it.” Harry reaches for his phone on the bedside table. “And I’ll be sure to mention how it took us getting drunk and having sex to realize—”

“Harry!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell your mum we used a condom—”

“I’ll kill you, Styles, and I’ll make it look like an accident.” Y/N shoves his shoulder hard.

Harry grins at her. “Now that’s romantic.”

[divinerulerluvr]

Angelic

You and Warren decide to make a sex tape

Pairing - Warren Lipka x fem!reader

Words - 1.8k

Warnings - smut, being filmed, stoned sex, some praising, sir kink, basically just really dirty because yeah, thigh riding

A/N - Honestly, I don't know what to say here so I'll just let you read the smut. Also, why is this gif so hot?

- - -

“God, how much longer for you to set that thing up?”

Warren fumbles with his camera, trying to get it to click into the tripod stand it rested on. “Don’t rush perfection, okay?” he says to you, finally getting it to work. “Aha! Told you i’d get it,” he says triumphantly.

You roll your eyes playfully, looking at the Sony camera he had just gotten. Warren had been really into filmography recently. Ever since he stole the camera, he’d been fucking around with it and filming every single thing.

Warren smiles, walking to where you lay out on the bed after clicking record. “Do I look good? I want my first sex tape to look good,” you ask him.

He stands at the edge of the bed, reaching down and running his hand down your cheek, “You always look good. Especially in that cute red lingerie I bought you,” he says, his horny personality showing through.

“You stole it, baby,” you counter.

He grins, nodding proudly. “Easily,” he brags. You smile, running your hand down his bare chest and torso. You bite your lower lip as your hand reaches the waistband of his sweatpants, the sight of his boxers peeking out from the top of his sweatpants being awfully hot.

A soft sigh falls from your lips as you eye fuck his body. “You have a very nice body,” you compliment, your thighs pushed together. “Well, I’m blocking the camera’s view of you so are you done?” he says, turning to face the camera he stood in front of.

You shrug, smiling widely. He moves out of the camera’s way, running his fingers through his messy hair. He kneels on the end of the bed, leaning forward and looping his fingers under your panties.

Complying, you raise your hips up from the bed to help him get them off. A part of the lingerie was stockings being held up by little red garters with a metal heart on them. Warren liked that. Hence why he stole the lingerie set for you.

Tossing the panties aside, he glances at the camera before looking back at you. “What do you want me to do, Sir?” you ask, adding the name on playfully. You close your legs, looking at Warren from where you lay on the bed.

He grins, actually liking the name. “Touch yourself for me,” he instructs you. You smile, nodding obediently. You trail your hand down your chest, skimming over the lacy bra you wore and down your stomach until you reach between your thighs.

You spread your legs, causing Warren to drool at the sight of your pussy. Your fingers find your clit, causing you to gasp softly at the feeling.

Warren runs his hand up your leg, watching intently as you pleasure yourself. Your back arches off the bed, your fingers slowly picking up pace as you indulge in how it felt. You roll your head on the pillow and look at the camera, smiling as you see the red blinking light on it.

“You’re gonna… jerk off to this in the future. Am I right?” you comment, your ragged breathing making it difficult to speak. Warren nods, chuckling like a perv. A very, very hot perv, though.

Warren becomes tired of just watching and leans over you, pulling you into his lap. You giggle, your legs saddling his thigh. His hands hold your back, keeping you in place as he kisses you. You impatiently kiss back, turned on by the camera that films the two of you.

You grind your hips down on his thigh, your fingers threading through the shaggy hair that covers the back of his neck. You pull back from the kiss, your head falling back slightly as you continue to ride his thigh.

“You’re so fucking hot, Y/n,” he admires, his hands moving down to your ass and squeezing. You smile, heat rising through your body. “Get that joint,” he instructs.

You lean back, grabbing the joint and the lighter from the nightstand beside you. You place it between your lips, Warren taking the lighter and pressing the flame to the tip. You inhale, your eyes on his as he pulls the lighter back.

Exhaling the smoke deeply, you pass the joint to Warren as you continue to ride his thigh. Your breathing grows heavy as Warren puffs on the joint, blowing a steady stream of smoke into your face. You inhale his smoke, smiling happily as he places the joint back between your lips and allows you to inhale as he keeps it in his hand.

Your hands rest on his shoulders, exhaling your smoke as you moan quietly. “I’m so fucking horny,” you comment. Warren smiles, letting you take another hit from the joint and taking one for himself before he wraps his arms around your back and moves you so you lay on the bed, him over top of you.

Giggling softly, you reach your hand up and push some of his hair from his face. “I really like you,” you say. He smiles, settling comfortably between your open legs. “I really like you, too,” he replies.

He leans back, pulling his sweatpants off as you unclasp your bra and toss it onto the floor. You look at the camera, smiling at it and sticking out your tongue.

“What’re you doing?” he asks as he settles back over top of you. “Smiling to future you who is probably jerking off to this,” you tell him, moving so that you could kiss him. He kisses you back, his clothed boner rubbing against your pussy.

His hands find your breasts, squeezing them in his palm as he always does. You go straight for his boxers, pulling them down. Warren chuckles into the kiss at your eagerness, his hands trailing down your chest and going directly between your thighs.

“Your skin is so soft, angel. I could touch you forever,” he whispers, his lips grazing over yours as he pulls back from the kiss. “I’m fine with that,” you reply, looking into his beautiful eyes.

He quickly locates your clit, your body jolting as he just barely touches you. You moan, your head falling back against the pillow as he spreads your wetness through your pussy. “I knew you’d like being filmed,” he comments slyly.

You smile weakly, whining as he pulls his hand from between your thighs. “Such a needy thing,” he says. You run your hand down his back, only to drag your nails back up to leave a trail of scratches behind.

Your eyes go to between your bodies, focusing on how he pushed slowly into you. You suck in through your teeth, never quite used to the feeling of him filling you up.

He pets your hair, his eyes focused on how beautiful your face looked as you adjusted to his dick. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades, your walls tightening around his dick. “Relax, baby,” he says softly, feeling your chest heave against his.

Bottoming out in you, he slowly draws his hips back and thrusts into you. Your breath catches, your legs wrapping around his waist.

“God, Warren,” you pant as he picks up a steady rhythm that was both sensual and rough at the same time. He was good at that. You push your hips up against his, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

Your chest presses against his, his hand finding its way to your wrists and holding them bound above your head. You moan softly, your noise being cut off as he kisses you again. The kiss was sloppy and slow this time, his tongue exploring your mouth.

His lips trail down to your jawline and starts to make sure to leave hickeys on your neck and collarbone. You moan, a smile on your lips as he fucks you. “Warren…” you pant out, your eyes watering.

“Call me ‘Sir’ again. It’s hot,” he says into your skin.

“Yes sir,” you reply, weaving your fingers through his hair.

Your response lit something in him and he flips the two of you over, laying on his back and keeping himself inside of you as you settle on top of him. Understanding what he wanted you to do, you start rocking your hips back and forth.

His fingers dig into your left hip, his right hand grabbing the joint and inhaling it. You start bouncing up and down on him, your hands placed on his chest for balance.

Your eyes flutter shut, your lip stuck between your teeth as you try and reach your orgasm. “Fuck,” you curse, not sure if you could last longer than two minutes. Warren lays back with a dazed expression, his eyes focused on your tits as they bounce with your movements.

Just on the edge of an orgasm, Warren decides he wants to switch positions and gets you back under him. You giggle softly, laying back on the bed as Warren starts to thrust into you again.

He grabs your hand, placing it on your lower stomach and holding it there. “You feel that?” he asks, referencing how his dick thrusting in and out of you was visible in your lower stomach. You nod, pressing your lips together as you feel your legs quiver.

Using the hand he had placed on top of yours he pushes down just slightly. You exhale shakily, your pussy clenching as he presses onto your lower stomach.

“Sir, I’m so close,” you pant pathetically, writhing on the bed underneath him. “Mm, how can I say no to such a good girl?” he smirks, his tone enough to make you cum already. “You can cum,” he whispers, his lips grazing your ear.

His fingers lace with yours as you cum, a suffocated moan leaving your lips. Your hand grips his, your entire body vibrating with pleasure.

Warren soon follows, cumming inside of you as you were in the midst of your high. You shiver, your hand still tightly tangled with his. Warren’s thrusts slow and he soon pulls out. You watch tiredly as he grabs the camera, too drained to even bother.

He pulls your legs back open, the camera pointed directly at your pussy that was filled with his cum. You chuckle, letting him do what he wanted because you knew he wasn’t going to do much with this video.

“All mine. See, I even claimed it,” he comments jokingly, running his fingertip over your hypersensitive clit. Your body jumps and Warren chuckles.

“Stop being stupid and come cuddle with me,” you say, watching as he turns off the camera and sets it on the nightstand. Warren gets into bed finally, pulling you onto his chest. You tangle your leg with his, your fingers lacing with his as your head rests on his chest.

“‘Night,” you say, already half asleep. Warren plays with your hair, his eyes looking at the ceiling. “Goodnight,”

[thenovelartist]

ABC Fluff Headcanons - Vyn Richter - Tears of Themis

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

If this was a fairytale, it would be Beauty and the Beast. Except he was simply the Beast and you were his magic rose he got to watch bloom. But instead of watching you under glass, he preferred it to be removed, even if it shredded your innocence in the process, but oh, watching you grow anyways, both blooming beautifully while growing fierce thorns to warn anyone before they touch, just to spite the adversity you were faced with was his truest pleasure. Your fortitude; that was what he truly admired about you.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

You’d think it’s your eyes, being the windows to the soul and all. But you’d be wrong; it’s your hands. Specifically, your tender touch. It’s gentle, warm, and safe. Being able to hold your hand feels intimate for him, and he actually enjoys when you tap his arm to get his attention, then let your hand linger when he gives it. It’s like a reward and a comfort all in one.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

He does enjoy a good cuddle, but hugging you from behind might be his favorite. Whether sitting together on the couch with you on his lap or spooning you in bed, he likes when he can nuzzle the side of your head or rest his chin on your shoulder.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

He will have planned this to a T because he’s not much for spontaneity. And it would involve a walk together, flowers, and he will either have made you a dessert or the two of you will make something together. It’s something quiet and intimate for you to enjoy time together, talking about anything and nothing while the date is riddled with affectionate touches and some kisses.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

Good grief, this man’s emotions are… complicated. He’s very logical, but he’s not ignorant to his emotions. It doesn’t seem like it, but he frequently tempers them, only to bring them up again in full when he records his diary so that he’s able to manage them.

But you have ruined him. His carefully kept emotional balance has been thrown to the wind. You make him feel intensely and strongly, to the point it almost trumps his logic, which makes him uncomfortable. His diaries have been getting longer as his inner turmoil increases, and that’s all your fault. It’s something you notice, too, watching his even temperament waver more and more frequently around you as the emotion inside him wars with his rationality. You will have to give this man time. Time to open up and be honest with himself, and you, about his emotions. Be prepared to validate his emotions in his moments of weakness. It’s the only way he’ll get better about honestly expressing them to you.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

He wouldn’t be opposed to staying childless. He also wouldn’t be opposed to having a child, and you could probably talk him into two if the first goes well. Little humans would be fascinating studies, after all. (“Dear, do not psycho-analyze the children.”)

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

He does not care for trinkets. Nor does he care about giving you them. Gifts should be practical.

At least… that’s what he likes to think. His one exception to this is when he gives you something to wear. It’s his way of marking you and wearing it will spark a possessive streak in him.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

He likes—no, needs to be either touching or holding your hand in quiet, private moments. And he wants to hold your hand when he’s jealous. Especially when he’s jealous. And you know when he is because he holds tight as though reminding you that you’re his while also sending passive-aggressive signals to the cause of his jealousy. When you’re just out walking, he will sometimes hold your hand, but he also likes when you loop your hands over his elbow and he can escort you like a proper gentleman. (It also causes you to pull yourself in close to him, so he actually quite enjoys when you do that.)

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Depends. Minor cuts or burns are treated with care and, occasionally, a kiss. Get into an accident, and he gets shockingly worried about you. However, if you end up hurt because of a reason to do with NXX, he’ll be sick with emotions. Guilt, fear, anger; all of them brew for a deadly concoction. He will not rest, even to the point of abusing his own body, until he finds the person who hurt you and sees to it they are paying dearly for their crime.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

He doesn’t always joke around, but when he does… this man is a wicked tease. Don’t expect to get off the hook easily. You better learn how to tease back, or he’ll use words and puzzles to twist you exactly where he wants you, which normally is you as a blushing, stuttering mess.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Sweet kisses off-the-cuff are quite nice, and so are the passionate ones, but the ones he likes best are the slow, lingering ones that take place hidden away in your own world. They convey so much with no words. There’s no frantic holding or clinginess. Rather, it feels like a moment of security, coming together and staying. He likes the comfort they provide him and the way they actually settle his heart.

L = Love Confession (how do they confess?)

He actually was super nervous to confess. He’ll have practiced and planned this confession before it happens. Which you never would have guessed because it was in such a smooth conversation during one of your outings that he admitted he held feelings of a romantic nature for you.

M = Marriage (What does the wedding look like?)

He wants it small, intimate, and preferably outdoors in a garden. He wants it nice but not overly fancy. He won’t fuss over the smaller details. Besides, he doesn’t realize it yet, but he will barely remember anything beyond how utterly stunning you look in your wedding dress, anyway.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

He hates being a failure, but if he’s everput in a position where he fails you, he will never forgive himself.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

This man has literal decks of cards of only one kind of card. You want a 52 card deck with all ace of hearts? He has that. Ten of spades? He has that too. Four of clubs? Yup. You don’t know why he has them, and he won’t tell you, but you think it’s literally just because he’s highly amused the way you wrack your brain over it.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

He’s classic. Love, Dear, Darling, Sweetheart. But he’s half-German (At least, that is my best speculation considering he was called “Vilhelm” and is canonly mixed-race), so “Liebling” is also an endearment he calls you, and my guess is he saves that one strictly for the sweetest, most tender moments you share.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

Calm setting, electronics put away, and preferably some form of physical contact with you. This could be working together in the garden, side by side, or going out to walk around town together, but those are not his favorite. Baking with you is one of his top ones, though. Expect him to tap some sort of batter or frosting on your nose. His other favorite is lounging together on the couch, your back leaning against his chest, and just talking. Communication is important to any relationship, and he finds it a joy to communicate with you.

R = Romance (how do they show their love and affection?)

He’s the kind that shows his affection by giving you his time and attention. He’ll show it in the little touches exchanged back and forth and in the way he’s attentive to your well-being, particularly your mental well-being.

He’ll also show he loves you by playing mind games on you until you’re a blushy, stuttering mess. He’s usually forgiven with a kiss and “I love you”. You know you’re too soft on him, but whattcha gonna do?

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

He is an onion you have to peel back layer by layer to get to open up to you. And like an onion, there’s likely going to be some tears shed as you do that. Time will determine how many secrets he’s willing to share with you, and it’s likely going to take years for him to fully open up to you. But keep at it. You will be rewarded with his innermost thoughts and feelings and the discovery of how insecure this seemingly unflappable man is.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

This man doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but falling hard and fast for you? That he did. One of his biggest hurdles he had to get over was logically evaluating his feelings and what he thought your feelings for him were as well as coming to terms with the way he’s been treated in past relationships (And not just romantic ones. He has an… interesting way of creating carefully crafted ties to people.) So it might take a little time for him to get comfortable enough to ask you out. And throughout the relationship, he’ll probably still be working with his past demons, so be prepared for that.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

He’ll comfort you the best way he can if you’re a sad upset. A mad upset, and he’ll probably give you a little space to work yourself out while offering his guidance. And upset at him? This is where a good chunk of your arguments happen, to be honest. So then you both have to calm down before coming together again and talking it out. But you always do and are stronger for it.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

He’ll never admit it, but he loveswhen he can leave you impressed. It thrills him if he can show off a trick or his general intelligence and have you praise him for it. Occasionally, he’ll search for ways to impress you just because he wants that attention. But never will he admit it.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

Well…he’s all okay with fighting as long as it’s not physical fighting. If you’re going to verbally spar with someone, he’s more than happy to let you go, and he takes pride in the fact you usually wipe the floor with your opponent. But the moment it’s going to turn into a physical altercation, he’s your shield. Part of him thinks that in times he is unfortunately not around, it might be good to have some self-defense under your belt, but at the same time, he’d rather you just flee instead of fight. Because he knows you well enough that if you had the ability, you’d probably knock someone’s lights out if they came at you.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

He’s a psychologist; he can already read you well. But on top of that, you are his favorite study, and he will catalogue everything he learns about you away to pull out for future reference. So while he already reads you well early on into your relationship, give it a few years and you have basically no secrets from this man.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

He will never forget the “surprise over romance” opinion on proposals you shared with him. So, determined to give you the best, he sets up an elaborate puzzle for you, getting all the important people in your life to get in on it. Together, the two of you will trapeze the town hunting down little clues—in places, that you only realize later, hold significance to both of you—before he’ll “conveniently” take his leave so you can finish out the last leg, which ultimately ends up leading you to his office, the place you first met. And there he is, sitting behind a house of cards sits made solely from the Ace of Hearts with a ring in the middle of the top tier which was made from two different cards: the king and queen. Only once you realize that and he revels in your joy and tears will he properly get on one knee and ask you to marry him.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

When everything is “right” in his world. His patients are doing well, he’s got no massive cases on his plate, nothing requires his immediate attention, and you are close by, doing well in your own right.