#the hem is gonna be a bit annoying if I wear the shirt with pants bc it will try to ride up when I tuck it in

[damnprecious]

me: *puts on a wool skirt, an apron, a poofy shirt and a wool vest in a 24°c apartment*

also me: why am I so hot

[mintmatcha]

cw: a weird vent piece lol, suicide mention, no quirks au, mentally ill reader

You always fuck with your shirt on. You'd wear more, if you could, but you haven't figured out how to do it with your pants on yet.

You pull the sheets over your sweat chilled legs and hope he didn't notice the spots you missed shaving. If he did, Natsuo doesn't seem to mind. His arm is tucked under your head, muscle fibers occasionally twitching underneath you and turning the soft mass dense.

Sometimes, Natsuo keeps his shirt on too. Neither of you have ever asked the other about it; there's a mutual understanding when a hand is stopped.

"Do you work tonight?" he asks.

You shake your head as his body relaxes deeper into the mattress.

"I'm gonna do laundry if you want to throw your stuff in," he mumbles, "I'll get you junk to sleep in."

The medical textbooks he was studying are still on the floor, flipped to random pages of different cycles and tissues, abandoned in exchange for you. If Natsuo fails his midterms, it'll be your fault. If he passes, he'll be leaving the city next semester for his hospital rotations.

Part of you wants him to fail. It's that dirty, evil part that no one else seems to have, the part you try to starve, but it keeps growing anyway. It nips at you whenever the room gets too quiet.

It's teeth are extra sharp today.

"You're so sweet." You speak into his skin, "I don't know how you're still single."

A sharp inhale is sucked through his teeth, cutting through his smile. Natsuo takes in all of your features and you know he's wondering why you're saying these things-- why you're purposefully bringing this up.

"Well, sweetie-" His tone is light, like he's avoiding stepping on glass, stepping on glass. With every word, he walks his fingers on your arm, spanning from elbow to shoulder, "I'm only single because you keep turning me down."

The overhead fan whizzes. The part you try to starve sinks its teeth into your chest.

"Natsuo, we've talked about this," you say, "I don't date."

You sit up and swing a leg over him, straddling his hips. A trail of white hair runs down his stomach and down under the sheets, disappearing where the two of you meet. He holds you by the hem of your tee, just tight enough to hold you in place.

"Would it be so bad?" he whispers.

"Here's what would happen, alright?" You brush your fingers through his sweat touched hair and it bounces right back into place the second you pull away. It makes you giggle a bit and he mirrors you, an unsure, foolish optimism in his eyes, "Let's just say I met this wonderful, beautiful boy and tricked-"

"Tricked?" he scoffs.

"Tricked him into loving me." You want to kiss him, but it feels cruel for both of you. Instead, you just cup his jaw in your hands and cradle him, letting the weight of him slump into your palms, "He'd treat me right and bring me home to meet his parents, 'cause he was raised right and, even though he's really smart, he'd think he's in love."

Fingers squeeze at your hips.

"But the second I left, his parents would tell him that he deserves someone prettier and smarter and, and, and better," you say, "And they'd be right."

“My mom’s nice," He drops your pretense with a whisper, ruining your not so careful charade. “She wouldn’t say that.”

He doesn’t mention his dad. There’s a silent sentence there. One that says, “But he might.” It’s hard to keep your brain from sticking to that point, from sticking your thumb into this metaphorical soft spot.

“I mean, she wouldn’t say it out loud, but she’d think it," you say, “She’d sit there and think ‘that girl's not good enough for my son' and she'd be right."

He scoff he lets out is uneasy, almost a songed laugh, more pained than annoyed. "My mom is nice."

This conversation is hurting him, but you can't stop yourself.

"And they'd tell you to break up with me, but you wouldn't listen to them, 'cause you're head strong like that. You'd probably date me in spite of them for while," you ramble, "But then you'd go away and you'd meet some pretty, normal girl and you'd realize they were right. They were always right. I was right."

The overhead fan whizzes.

"So, it's better if I just don't date at all,"

Natsuo's grip dissolves and you think you see it then - the moment whatever is between you dies. A hollowness passes over his features, empty eyes and sucked cheeks, as he ducks his head down to rest his face against your chest. Chin against the soft of your tits, he seems farther away than ever.

You could gloat. You could cry. You're a self-fulfilling prophecy once again.

Natsuo sighs and his words slip so easily from him that you almost don't process what he's saying. "You're so sad. I wish you'd get help."

That catches you off guard. The control over this conversation is ripped away, your curtain drops, and you suddenly feel very, horribly seen.

"What?" You try to laugh it off, leaning back to escape the way he watches you.

"Sometimes I wake up and you're not here," he says, "And I worry that's the last time I'll ever see you."

You understand the implication.

"I'm not gonna kill myself." It might be the truth, you think.

"Yeah," His arms wrap around your waist again, snaking the air from your lungs, "Touya promised me that too."

Touya is only ever mentioned over too many beers and tears you're not allowed to remember the next morning. He was only 16, only a couple years older than Natsuo, but the ghosts still linger to this day, always tucked into the back of the room, stalking, haunting.

Natsuo comes from money and fame. His apartment is paid for by his father. He's never had to work to afford food. At first, you resented him for that; you wanted that ease and safety his family afforded him.

But everything comes at a cost. Every unhappy family is unhappy in there own ways.

"I'm sorry that you keep loving things that break." That is the truth. You're just the end of a line of his mistakes, starting all the way at mom and dad and trailing through every girlfriend ever since.

"I do love you. And it's not despite the fact you're 'broken'," Natsuo takes your hand with a resounding firmness. It reminds you of that thing they say about golden retrievers; the smart ones can hold an egg in their jaws without shattering the shell. Natsuo holds you like he understands you in some deep, intrinsic way, "Or because of it or whatever."

He doesn't look away, those bright, wide eyes bluer than ever.

"I just like all your little pieces." He kisses your knuckles one by one, trailing from thumb to pinkie to thumb again.

The room is silent. The bad part of you is no longer begging to eat. Maybe it's full for now, but you know it's just out of focus, stalking in the dark, biding its time.

"You should study." You slip from him and reclaim your own space in the bed. After a long, simple pause, Natsuo gets up himself, collecting his boxers from the floor.

"Yeah," he says, "You're right."

The hurt you've caused is no longer comfortable to live in. Your mouth is dry, thirsty for a change you're not sure how to make. Recovery feels like a big leap-- loving and being loved feels every farther away.

All you can do is shuffle your feet against the sheets and take the tiniest step towards normalcy.

"Do you want to get brunch tomorrow before your classes?" you offer your olive branch, your silent promise, "I'll pay."

He weighs this, measuring it for sincerity, then smiles just wide enough your get a glimpse of teeth.

"Let me get you something to sleep in."

For now, it's enough.

[torasplanet]

❝𝙏𝘼𝙇𝙆 𝙏𝙊 𝙈𝙀.ᐟ❞

C. MATSUNO + F. READER

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ; you get so wet when you're cockwarming your boyfriend that your pussy starts talking to him!

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 ; smut, baji cockblocking you, cockwarming, riding, p in v, gamer!chifuyu, chifuyu's kinda mean, crying, pretty vanilla ig, clit play?? skin color not mentioned

Chifuyu had been playing this game forever and you were getting so tired of it! You had to sit in the living room because he was being so loud screaming at Baji to stop screaming at him and telling Kazutora to do something you didn’t care about and yet you could still hear him.

It wasn’t fair, he was annoying you while you were just sitting on the couch with an aching feeling between your legs which was widely different from the aching in your head from all his yelling. You knew chifuyu liked to have time to himself to game and whatever but why did he choose now of all times when you’re probably the horniest person in the entire world right now?

You tried to get friction on the arm of the couch but it didn’t work. You need your boyfriend but he was too busy yelling at his friends to help you. Whatever, you didn’t care. If you wanted dick, that’s what you were going to get.

You walked down the hallway to your and his shared bedroom and peeked through the slightly cracked door staring at your boyfriend as he typed on his keyboard so much focus on his face before pushing it open the door creaking and echoing throughout the house. His green eyes blinked up at you and he flashed a gentle smile “Hey pretty.” Your boyfriend said before looking back at the screen.

“Is it that [Y/n]!? Tell her I said hi!” “Yeah!” You heard Kazutora and Baji scream from Chifuyu’s headset as you leaned against the doorframe. Chifuyu chuckled under his breath before looking at you and gesturing you to come over “The guys said hi.” He told you while you walked over to him wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning over his frame as he sat in his gaming chair.

“Hey guys.” You said your lips close to the headset so they could hear you before pressing a kiss to Chifuyu’s cheek making him grin while you ignored everything else the other two guys said about the game. Soon your cheek kisses moved down to his jaw, then his neck, and then you started to move his shirt around a bit to kiss at his shoulder blades biting at the skin a bit.

Chifuyu’s body grew stiff and his eyes went wide knowing what you were doing. He was quick to press mute before taking off the headset on one of his ears “Stop it.” You whined as you slid your hand down to his lower abdomen growing closer to his crotch but he swatted your hand away “I’m serious, I’m playing a game right now.” Chifuyu said a bit more sternly than you expected and you put your hands on his shoulders.

“‘Fuyu, please! Hurts s’bad right now…” You mewled walking in front of him just barely covering the side of the PC screen wanting him to see how desperate you were. Chifuyu got hard in his pants at the sight of you looking at him so needy wearing only his crewneck and panties.

You lifted the hem of the crewneck just a bit allowing him to see more of your panties and the small wet spot. He looked down and looked back at you letting out a sigh and leaning further back into his chair “Fine, c’mon.” Chifuyu said patting his lap and making a smile stretch across your face. You wasted no time going to him and beginning to pull his sweatpants down but what he said next made you stop.

“But you’re just gonna sit there. Still got a game to play.”

What? In your most desperate hour of need, he was going to make you cockwarm him while he screamed in your ear at Baji? Couldn’t he see how wet you were for him? “Chifuyu what the fuck are you doing!?” Baji yelled from the headset just as you opened your mouth to protest against it making you shut it really fast.

Chifuyu looked at you with a nasty smile on his face “Either you get on or you don’t.” He said shrugging his shoulders putting the other side of his headset back on and turning mute off to talk to Baji ignoring the pout you had on your face. Despite all your thoughts against it, you still slid your panties off and sat on your boyfriend's cock your legs folded on either side of him with your arms wrapped around his neck.

You were desperate for anything even if it was just his tip sitting at your sweet spot with no movement but after nearly an hour had passed, you couldn’t take it anymore! He was still getting yelled at by Baji with Kazutora trying to be the mediator and you were a soaking and drooling mess in his lap holding back the urge to whine for him to let you do something but you didn’t want to humiliate yourself in front of you guys’ friends.

It’s not like your asking would do much. He would say no just like the times you tried to move your hips just even a little bit so it’d be pointless but you just needed to move! You were so focused on getting yours that you hadn’t even realized that Chifuyu had muted himself on the game and slid the headset on his head just a bit so that his ears were visible. Chifuyu was getting tired of being hard inside of you.

The green-eyed man moved his hips just a bit making you whine but more importantly, the wet sounds of your pussy clenching around him got loud and it made Chifuyu grin “Hm?” Chifuyu said gaining your attention. You looked up at him with your head still on his chest curious as to what he was talking about and saw him beginning to lean down “Wha–” “Shhh. Pussy’s talkin’ to me baby.” Chifuyu said silencing you.’

He moved his hips at different angles again, even thrusting his hips up just a bit to hear those noises your soaked pussy made “She’s tellin’ me that she wants more.” Chifuyu spoke glancing up at you, that smile still on his face and it made you pulse around him again just wanting more like he said. “Should I give her more?” He questioned tilting his head just slightly and you nodded immediately not hesitating for a second.

Chifuyu leaned back against his gaming chair but didn’t respond. Well not verbally. His response was unmuting and telling Baji and Kazutora that he had to go. Once he left the game and ended the call, his attention was entirely focused on you.

“So sorry for neglecting my girl,” Chifuyu said as his hands moved to your ass groping it lightly. You wrapped your arms around his neck while he started to kiss all over your neck and collarbone “Lemme give her what she needs.” The black-haired male muttered into your skin making goosebumps form on your arms because of his lips tickling you. Nodding your head with small moans leaving your lips “Please.”.

Chifuyu began to move you on his cock using his hold on your ass to his advantage “Ah, pussy’s so loud…and I thought you have a problem being quiet.” Your boyfriend said with a small laugh as you began to bounce on his dick without needing his help but his hands remained on your ass kneading and groping at the fat “S-Shut up.” You stammered as your pace sped up wanting more and more by the second. This slow pace wasn’t doing it for you especially when his tip was brushing over your g-spot with every slow fuck.

“Make me,” Chifuyu said almost threateningly but it was evident that he just wanted to kiss you by his stare at your plump lips that had been releasing whines of his name all day. You grabbed hold of his face and pushed your lips into his; tongue immediately entering his mouth wanting to dominate but he took it instead once bringing out your weak point by slapping the flesh of your ass.

Chifuyu’s hand grabbed your ass tightly as he began to fuck up into you smiling into the kiss because of how much he had you moaning into the kiss “Mhm, s’good.” You mewled into the makeout trying your best not to cum so soon as you wanted to cum with your boyfriend but with the way he was fucking you on his dick, he wasn’t going to let that happen. His bright red tip crashed into your sweet spot over and over showing he wasn’t letting up until both of you came.

One of his hands moved from your behind and came to flick at your clit surprising you “Stop that!” Chifuyu merely laughed at your yelping that broke the kiss. He loved playing with you during sex. Lightly slapping your clit or flicking it just to make you jump, it was so funny to see you squirm just from a small movement.

“Wanna make you cum faster, not my fault you’re so sensitive…” The Matsuno male muttered pecking your lips with a smile that attempted to be comforting but his words weren’t whatsoever. Your cunt tightened around him with a string of moans leaking from your mouth as you threw your head back.

You bounced faster breathing heavily as you felt your release approaching, it was right there in your reach. You just needed to lean a little further for it “Keep touching me, oh my god. Almost there!” Whines and pleads were all that were leaving your mouth just begging for Chifuyu to help you reach your mark and he ate that shit up, oh he did. His fingers drew the letters of his name all over your clit sometimes even pinching it after the last ‘u’ in his name “That’s my girl. Fuck…moan for me pretty.” Chifuyu groaned as you kept tightening around his cock warning your orgasm and you were about to cause his.

Chifuyu stood up and your legs immediately wrapped around his waist. He slammed your back onto the table in front of him not caring about the PC or the keyboard and just sliding the keyboard across to make room for you “Fuck, I’m almost there pretty. Hah, fuck.” The dark-haired man said holding onto his hips tightly as he fucked into you harder than he did before. Your hands gripped the edge of the table trying your hardest not to bump into the PC and break it but Chifuyu wasn’t letting up. It’s like he didn’t even care.

“Baby…!” You moaned. Your nails dug into the skin of his neck as you felt yourself cumming all over his cock and that was Chifuyu’s last straw, he gripped your hips even tighter as he piped your womb to the brim with his semen.

He pushed the black strands that were sticking to his forehead back whilst he breathed heavily. His gaze slowly traveled to the bed on the other side of the room before it was directed back to you. “Lemme play one more round then I’ll give you one too, okay?”

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

[anonymouspuzzler]

big giant freaking post because i simply think the OLD SEMI-REFORMED CRIME MEN should KISS EACH OTHER

(alt text/image IDs under cut!)

[Image 1 ID: A black and white drawing of Raz and Oleander. Raz, gesturing to the side with one thumb, says, "Your co-conspirator is GNC as heck". Oleander, grimacing and refusing to make eye contact, standing with one fist on his hip, replies, "you're insane".]

[Image 2 ID: A black and white drawing of Oleander and Loboto speaking to a nondescript, silhouetted person in the foreground. Oleander is wearing a low-cut, short-sleeved button-up, dogtags on a necklace, and sunglasses on top of his head, standing with one hand on his hips; Loboto is crouched behind him, wearing a dress over a loose sweater, one hand resting over Oleander's shoulder, with one of Oleander's hands on his knee. Oleander, grinning smugly, says, "Hey, me and my co-conspirator saw you from across the bar and we hate your vibes"; Loboto, grinning manically, ads, "We're gonna take your brain out and see how far it bounces when we throw it".]

[Image 3 ID: A colored illustration of Loboto and Oleander sitting on the floor, Oleander in Loboto's lap. Loboto is wearing knee-length dark brown boots and a bulky green sweater with slim multicolored stripes, over which is a purple dress with a pattern of seaweed and fish along the hem. Oleander is in his usual outfit, minus the helmet. He is looking down at a stack of papers in one hand, reaching up behind him gesturing for a paper which Loboto has taken and lifted up to his face, the other arm around Oleander.]

[Image 4 ID: Oleander, sitting on an implied ledge, wearing a camo-print tank top, blue jeans and knee-length brown boots. Loboto is sitting on the ground to his right, wearing an off-white t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and purple overalls unbuttoned on one side, with a hole in the left knee. He has his arms loosely around Oleander and is giving him a gentle kiss on the lips, to which Oleander is looking back with a surprised blush.]

[Image 5 ID: A colored illustration of Loboto and Oleander. Loboto is leaning back in a dark teal-green wooden chair with his elbow leaning on a round, light-green wooden table. He is wearing a baggy navy blue "All Paul Cruise" t-shirt with an orange neckline, which hangs slightly off his left shoulder and exposes a bit of his stomach, as well as light-green pajama pants patterned with orange and purple fish, and mismatched purple slippers, one plain with an orange patch and the other blue-and-pink striped. He is holding his unbuckled prosthetic limply in his left hand and looking over at Oleander with a raised eyebrow and chastising expression. Oleander is standing by the other side of the table in a white tank top, light-and-dark blue striped boxers, beige socks and bunny slippers. He has a light coat of stubble and looks sleepy and very mildly annoyed. He is holding a coffee cup with the Psychonauts logo in one hand and using the other to hold a pointer finger to his temple, creating an orange telekinetic hand to pour a pitcher of coffee into his mug.]

[Image 6 ID: A greyscale illustration of Loboto and Oleander asleep in bed. Oleander is on the left, lying on his back, wearing a tank top and striped boxers, with one leg propped up on Loboto's side. Loboto is to the right lying on his side, chest facing the mattress, wearing a quilted eye mask, a baggy shirt, and pajama pants patterned with fish. Loboto's prosthetic is off and he is reaching over Oleander to hold his right hand; his legs are also dangling off the edge of the mattress. One of Loboto's boots is on the floor to the right of the bed, while Oleander's bunny slippers are on the left partially under the bed. There are also nightstands to each side of the bed. On Oleander's side is his helmet, an alarm clock, and a three-ring notebook in a compartment underneath; on Oleander's side is his prosthetic, a plush fish, a wind-up chattering teeth toy, and a "TRUE DENTAL TALES" magazine in a compartment underneath.]

[Image 7 ID: A greyscale illustration of Oleander and Loboto. Oleander is sitting on the edge of a mattress, shirtless and wearing striped boxers, rubbing his head with one hand and looking back over his shoulder at Loboto, who is lying in bed behind him. Loboto is missing his shower cap, with his hair in sloppy patches, and looking sleepily at Oleander. His prosthetic is around one side of Oleander while his natural hand is sitting on Oleander's thigh.]

[Image 8 ID: A black-and-white illustration of Oleander and Loboto from the bust up. Loboto, sitting on the right and wearing a bulky ribbed sweater, twists his head around to give a surprised Oleander a kiss on the lips.]

[Image 9 ID: A black-and-white illustration of Loboto, grinning, scooping up Oleander in his arms, who flails slightly with his arms to the side like a kitten being picked up by a child. His helmet is getting knocked askew and he looks flustered, blushing and sweating.]

[Image 10 ID: A color illustration of Loboto holding Oleander in his arms, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Oleander is flailing in his hold but grinning widely at the affection.]

[Image 11 ID: A color illustration of Loboto and Oleander arguing over a map. Loboto is wearing a "TEETH MACHINE" t-shirt with lime green shoulders and collar that cuts off just above his belly button, rolled-up cargo shorts cinched tightly at the waist with a belt, green ribbed socks and greenish-black sandals; he is bent over at the waist with his prosthetic hand on his hip and his other hand pointing at something on the map. Oleander is standing next to him wearing a pink open aloha shirt with a floral pattern, a low-cut Whispering Rock tank, frayed denim shorts, dark socks, white tennis shoes and a magenta baseball cap. He is holding the map in his left hand and gesticulating wildly with the other, shouting as he looks down at the map. In the background are Raz and Lilli, holding hands; Raz is eating a cotton candy while Lilli is smiling and pointing at something offscreen.]

[Image 12 ID: A sketch of a grinning Loboto standing in a corner, pinned by Oleander, who is having to hold himself up with both hands and feet on the walls in a split to keep himself at eye-level.]

[Image 13 ID: Loboto imagining Oleander in his bright-blue mermaid tail, topless and wearing his gloves, one hand holding a microphone and the other making a V-sign. He is grinning widely and singing into the microphone, with hearts and musical notes in the background behind him. Below the imagine-spot is Loboto, grinning wobbly and blushing, one hand scratching his cheek. In the background are two of the fishmen from Rhombus of Ruin, both staring at Loboto in confusion.]

[Image 14 ID: A sketch of Oleander posing on a rock wearing his mermaid tail; Loboto is in the foreground, wearing a beret on top of his shower cap and sticking his tongue out in concentration as he sketches him with his prosthetic hand. The drawing is comically bad.]

[Image 15 ID: Multiple rough sketches of Loboto and Oleander. To the left is a little sketch of Oleander, left, and Loboto, right, holding hands; Loboto is smiling vacantly while Oleander is slightly flustered and pretending not to be, standing with one hand on his hip. In the middle is Oleander and Loboto sitting on the floor in a heap together, Loboto facing sideways and folded over with his arms around Oleander, legs on either side of him, and his head resting sideways on top of Oleander's head. Oleander has one hand on Loboto's knee and the other around his shoulders, resting on his neck. Loboto is topless, wearing jeans and his boots, and has a lovestruck grin; Oleander is in his usual pants and boots and a t-shirt, grinning somewhat smugly up at Loboto. To the right is a little sketch of Loboto holding up Oleander up in his arms, facing him; Loboto is grinning while Oleander, limbs limp, looks slightly embarrassed. On top is a sketch of Oleander sitting on a couch holding a bottle, with Loboto on the floor next to him; Loboto is in a baggy t-shirt and boxers, without his shower cap, and has turned around to cradle a flustered Oleander's head and kiss him on the lips.]

[Image 16 ID: A sketch of Oleander, sitting in Loboto's lap wearing a t-shirt and jeans, leaning against Loboto's knees and looking exasperated. Loboto is wearing a tank top and jeans and has a delighted grin, repeatedly slapping Oleander's bald head with his left hand.]

[Image 17-18 IDs: A two-panel comic split into two images. In the first, Loboto is sitting in a wooden chair at a round table holding a screwdriver in his left hand, wearing a baggy t-shirt and frayed sweatpants, looking back over at his shoulder at Oleander in the foreground. Oleander is standing at the kitchen sink, wearing an open button-up shirt over a tank top, as well as dishwashing gloves, and has his right hand in a fist while his left shoves something into the water. A screencapped caption from a Tumblr post reads "my boyfriend is washing the dishes and I just heard him say "who do you work for? who's your contact???" while repeatedly pushing a glass under water". The second panel cuts so Loboto is in the foreground, looking confused and raising his prosthetic hand to his chin, while in the background Oleander (visibly on a stepstool to reach the sink) holds up a glass with telekinesis and brandishes a knife at it, shouting. A second screencapped caption reads "at least he's having fun???"]

[Image 19 ID: A two-panel comic. In the first, Oleander is sitting on a stool at a table, looking down at blueprints he is caressing with his right hand, holding a martini glass in his left, looking contemplative. He says, "*sigh* What an amazing couple we would've been..." In the second panel, Loboto has suddenly appeared and hugs him from behind, grinning and saying "still cooould beeee [heart symbol]"; Oleander, flustered and grimacing, shouts back, "I COULD NOT BE MORE OBVIOUSLY TALKING TO THE MECH".]

[Image 20 ID: A colored two-panel comic. In the first, Oleander is in front of a red curtain, with Sheegor seen from behind in the background. He is wide-mouth shouting to Loboto offsceen, "You bozo! Have you no dignity?" In the second panel, Loboto has entered from stage left, grinning with mouth agape, responding, "Of course not! How long have we worked together?!" Oleander glares back with his mouth tight in a grimace, looking like he's barely holding back his rage.]

[Image 21-22 IDs: A two-panel black-and-white comic. In the first, Oleander is standing in front of an Otto-bon hatch surrounded by planters, with his hands on his hips and a serious expression, saying, "This summer I lost my (extremely platonic) co-conspirator". In the second, the camera cuts in slightly closer as Oleander clenches a fist, eyes closed and shedding a single tear, saying, "Sometimes I can still hear his voice..." In the background, Loboto emerges from the Otto-bon hatch, shouting, "QUIT TELLING PEOPLE I'M DEAD".]

[Image 23 ID: A color illustration of Loboto and Oleander sitting on a wine-purple couch with a golden-yellow throw blanket over the back, watching a rabbit-ear television, with a red rug with gold trim below them. There is also an orange cushion on the floor and two drink cans to the right. Loboto is sitting on the left side, one leg slung over the arm of the sofa on which his prosthetic arm is resting, leaning on the other arm, with a bowl of popcorn nestled in the crook of that arm. He is wearing a baggy green sweater that only reaches midway down his torso, a white button-up under that with the collar popped, and purple pajama pants patterned with teeth, as well as a teal-green sock on only his left foot (with the other visible discarded off the side of the sofa). Oleander is on the other side of the sofa, leaning against the arm on his left side and taking a fistful of popcorn with his right hand. He is wearing a zip-up orange-and-light-yellow sweater, long green pants, purple socks and reddish-brown slippers. A text balloon coming from the TV reads "I wanna be... a dentist!!" Loboto, grinning and pointing with his prosthetic hand, says, "This weird clown has it right." Oleander, lifting an eyebrow, responds, "That's an elf", to which Loboto replies, "No, no. Elves is the tall guys with the shooty bits".]

[novantinuum]

how it's goin (cosplay edition)

the chaos continues. literally spent 8 hours at my table today sewing a belt for the amity cosplay, adapting pattern pieces, cutting out pattern pieces, pinning pattern pieces, and hemming a shirt

also yes that's the unglued pieces of my shield back there, that shit's being an annoying little fuck to me ugh and so is the weather (can't contact cement on my back porch if it's raining)

it's very much shield v.1.0, because i had no idea what i'm doing with the vinyl and there's bubbles fucking everywhere now that i have to pop one by one with a tiny needle. this will be my rush ECCC shield and eventually i'll do something else. something that's... probably not gonna be covered in vinyl. like ughh i'll just dye it or whatever, maybe.

but yeah the pinned top looks decent with the hemmed shirt so far so. i'll take it.

tomorrow's job is to cement my fucking shield and cut out all the fabric pieces for my pants. the pants will be a bit crunchier, because i need to put pockets in them and i have no fucking idea how to do pockets, but i guess i'll just emulate what i see in my jeans and figure it out...?

also amity is basically done. this pic was taken before i finished my actual belt (that's just a scarf i wrapped around my waist lol) but style the wig and add some light makeup/winged liner and i'll be golden. i think this will be a really nice and cozy costume to wear around for day one, can't wait!

[babybammargera]

Drive in with Dicamillo

Dico x reader smut?

You hadn't been with Dico a lot lately, he's been busy filming with the guys. Today he had a day to just relax. You're sitting between his feet on the floor of your livingroom watching as he and Ryan play video games and ramble about what they had filmed earlier. You lean back onto Dico's knee, "I'm bored." Ryan nudges you with the toe of his shoe, "you're always bored." You roll your eyes half tempted to unplug his controller but his phone rings before you get the chance and he stands up walking away from the couch, "Princess Bam requires my presence." He shuffles out the front door. As you reach for Ryan's discarded controller Dico pauses the game and you groan, "Bran come on I just said I was bored let me play in Ry's place." He shakes his head and puts his controller down, "I've got a better idea. I'm gonna run and go change, we're going out for once." You turn around still sitting on the floor to look at him, "Like a date? You never change when we go out." He leans down inches from your face, "I reek from filming all day. I'm saving you from my stink I love you enough for that." You half laugh and lean in a bit hoping he'll take the hint and kiss you, "I love you too idiot." He licks the side of your face and stands up instead. You aren't surprised, the two of you aren't much for the cute couple stuff, you wipe your face on your sleeve and glare at him, "ew Dico I thought you were gonna be sweet." He winks and steps out the front door just as Ry had done less than 5 minutes ago, "Not a chance babe. Be back in 10." You sigh and stand up saving their game, mostly so you won't have to deal with Ry complaining when he shows back up at your house later. You change out of your sweats into a pair of black jeans, Dico may be going to change but it doesn't mean he's dressing up he'll show up in jeans and a hoodie himself. You sit down pulling on your shoes, as you finish lacing them the doorbell rings. You open the door revealing your boyfriend illuminated by the porch light wearing what you expected, holding a makeshift bouquet of flowers he probably picked on the side of the road on his way back. "A date and flowers? How romantic." He rolls his eyes as you take the flowers and place them in the empty vase on the table by the door, "Don't be gay about it." You laugh as he ushers you outside, "Alright, at least lock the door Romeo." He turns around locking the door with his key. (You didn't give him his own copy. He decided to make one 3 months into dating.) You climb into his car scooting to the middle seat fidgeting with the radio as he pulls out of the driveway, "So where are we going?" He glances at you squeezing your thigh, "The drive in is playing Killer Klowns from outer space and we're going." You shake your head and crack a smile at his choice of date. Once you get there the two of you make fun of the terrible movie for a while. You lean your head on his shoulder, "I'm glad we get some time together Bran I missed you." He looks at you, "I miss getting to annoy you all day, it's the highlight of my day." He catches your lips with his, it's not the short sweet kiss you usually share its deep and hungry, "I missed that too." You roll your eyes pulling him to you by his shirt,continuing the kiss you climb into his lap. He pulls away smiling at you panting and blushing, "you look hot like this, we should do this more often." He shifts so you're straddling his thigh, gripping your hips to guide you. You gasp at the sudden friction clouding your brain and reach between the two of you finding his belt pulling it off and tossing to the floor as he alternates between leaving sloppy kisses and marks on your neck. He pulls the hem of your shirt intending to take it off but is interrupted by a knock at the window. You squint as a security guards flashlight shines through the glass at you. "Break it up or go home you two." You climb out of your boyfriends lap laughing and the guard walks away. Dico looks at you, "Let's take this to your place." You pull him to you and kiss him, "you read my mind babe."

@ckygetsjobs

[honey--fics]

Worth it - Jotaro x Reader

(Cw: choking, a bit of blood, degration, face fucking)

Word count: 1.8K

Getting degraded and fucked silly in a hotel and then caught afterwards🙏🙏🙏

🍒

The hotel is dark and silent, with bright moonlight spilling into your tiny hotel room—the other crusaders sleeping soundly in the nearby rooms. All, that is, except your lover, Jotaro Kujo.

The knock on your door that you had been anticipating finally arrived, and you leapt to your feet to answer it. You have a lot of pent-up emotions and thoughts as a teenager—wanting only to just to set them free. Fortunately, Jotaro needs to as much as you do. As a result, you and him established an unspoken routine that only the two of you were aware of.

When you were staying in hotels, you could have one midnight visit from each other.

It should be bitterly cold—after all, Egypt was like an iceberg at night—but you're hot. insatiably hot as you softly pull open the creaky door and hastily, and Jotaro connects his lips with yours, shutting the room door with his forearm and making you stumble backwards in shock.

You kiss him back—making out deliciously with your lover as he leads you slowly onto your soft hotel bed, loving how his lips slotted perfectly with yours. You moaned softly into the kiss, helping him tug the black trench coat off his shoulders before he pins you onto the plush white quilts of the hotel bed. You wrap your legs around his waist and you part your lips from his with a gasp, filling you burning lungs with much needed air. His kisses were always so addicting.

His soft raven hair was tousled and his black trench coat lay carelessly on the floor as you looked into his dark teal eyes. As he gently kisses your lips again, you run your fingers through his hair and play with the wavy locks.

"that was fast."

As you purred, an annoyed grunt vibrated from his throat, eyes half-lidded. That is, before he lowered his head and rolled his hot breath over the crook of your neck, pressing his lips against your skin. He planted tiny kisses on the pillar of your neck and began sucking hickies near your collarbone, working his way up and abruptly shutting you up.

You hum with satisfaction as he marks your throat, pulling his hair and craning your neck in the opposite direction to allow him more access. Low moans and soft sucking sounds filled the room, and arousal started to pool deliciously in your stomach. Jotaro bites the crook of your neck and back, making you scream, before sucking and licking over the bloody mark almost apologetically, his rough hands caressing your breasts.

“Jotaro..”

His hands eventually reach your sides, exploring your body until catching the hem of your oversized shirt and yanking it off, leaving you fully naked. With a click of his tongue, he expresses his dissatisfaction.

“Were you completely naked down there? You were expecting this, weren't you, slut?” The low rumble and degrading words making you sigh with arousal. Your face flushes with embarrassment as you watch him hungrily examine your naked body and moves his hand forward, riveting your nipple between two fingers. You groan softly, enjoying how he teases you and arching to his touch as he leans down to licks a hot stripe across your breast. You bite your lower lip and keep your eyes shut as his hands wander across your stomach, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Several more licks later, He backs away and tosses his loose tank top over his head, carelessly onto the floor. The dull clinking of metal made your heart skip a beat as he loosen his belts as well. You both quickly shifted positions and you admired the deep scars that strewn across his toned stomach and the way his muscles rippled as he moved.

He sat back, his back resting against the wooden headboard as he pulled his cock out of the zipper of his pants. He sighed, stroking it a few times, watching as you positioned yourself over him. It was perfectly long and thick,, flushing red at the tip. You held eye contact with him and got down, wiping your sweaty hands on the bed before conspicuously putting them on his thighs. You press your lips at the base of his dick before slowly sticking your tongue out flat and licking up the vein of it, relishing the heavy, salty taste of his skin on your tongue.

He sighed in pleasure while he watched you take the whole thing into your mouth. He looked handsome even from this angle, his lips slightly parted, watching you intensely with soft red dusting his cheeks.

Perfect.

Your nose will eventually brush against his hip, and your lips will be wrapped around the hilt of his cock. The thick tip grazed the back of your neck, but you bravely overcame your gag reflex, contracting your throat around his length and making him quietly groan, taking a handful of your hair. You batted your eyelashes at him before hollowing out your cheeks and started to go up and down slowly, making him let out a long, drawn out “fuck.”

With the hand gripping your hair, he began to thrust his hips upwards into your mouth—deciding he wanted to set the pace, and that you were going too slow for his liking. You let a muffled moan slip out between your lips while he began fucking your face roughly, your hair in a tight hold as he thrusted ruthlessly into your mouth, a mix of drool and precum dribbling down your chin and onto this pants as you fought your gag reflex, tears welling in your eyes, and running down your face from the pain.

He let out a low chuckle. “You look like such a whore right now.” His cock was rubbing against the inside of your cheek as your tongue swirled around his length. You could hardly breathe as his thrusts became more and more abrasive, the world spinning around you. You were about to pat his thigh and force him to let go, but he let out a low groan and finally pulled your lips away from him—a string of spit connecting your lips to his fully erect and twitching cock.

You pant, trying to catch your breath and begin to rub your thighs together. A pool of arousal is filling your stomach, and all you can think about is taking his thick cock. You rest your hands on his strong thighs and look up at him.

He grabs your chin and rubs the spit and precum on your lips sloppily, sighing at the arousing sight, and gripped your waist tightly while you looked into his darken eyes.

“Please Jojo, please, please fuck me.” You breathe, a whine in your tone. You arch your back while his large hands are gripped onto you, writhing in aching arousal. He clicks his tongue, watching you writhe, begging to be fucked. His jaw clenched and his cock twitched as he watched you start grinding on the sheets under you, and quickly hauled you effortlessly onto his lap.

“You wanna be fucked? I’ll give you some cock, you little slut.”

He brings you up with a bruising grip, and you eagerly align him with your entrance, practically drooling. You try and slowly ease your way down, but as soon as the thick head of his cock is in your cunt, he slams you down, and you both moan in unison as your throbbing pussy is filled to the brim, and your clit is pressed against his pelvis. It was so easy to enter without lube either, since your cunny was practically drooling for him. How adorable. You started moving your hips, not caring how much it stung, letting out shamelessly loud, desperate, slutty moans—bouncing over and over on this cock, loving how he rubbed against your walls deliciously as you slowly adjusted to his size.

Your eyelashes were fluttering and curses spilled from your lips until one of Jotaro’s huge hands squeezed your hip, supporting you, and another wrapped around your throat roughly. “We don’t want the rest of the group to hear you, do we?” He rumbled, the loud slapping of skin on skin filling the room as you both rock your hips, his lips slightly parted and sweat shiny on his skin. He watched the way his cock went in and out of your cunt and lolled his head back, groaning.

With Jotaro’s tight grip on your throat you drool, your lip quivering as pathetic moans leave your lips. The world spun around you because of the lack of oxygen, but you didn’t mind. Not with jotaro's thick cock going in and out of you.

“Jotaro, jojo..”

you pant heavily, feeling your heart race and your clit throbbing—nearing a huge orgasm.

“Please, please, please—oh fuck—I'm gonna cum!”

You whine loudly, biting your lip while your eyes roll back —frantically chasing your orgasm with high pitched moans escaping your lips as whimpers. His hips began snapping forward with more force, and you could tell he was close by the way he panted—his eyebrows furrowed and his sweet groans growing louder.

“Fuck, I can feel you tightening around me.”

He hissed, snapping his hips against you sloppily, his pelvis hitting you clit and making you cry out.

As you clutched his firm wrist with shaking hands, he tightened his grasp, and all it took was another hard slap of his pelvis against your swollen clit to set you off. You scream with delight, gasping as his bruising grip relaxes and grips your cheek, grinding his thumb against your tongue.

Your screams are muffled and a guttural growl escapes him, biting down on your shoulder and releasing. He bucks into your cunny sloppily —shooting loads of his thick white cum inside of you—all the while groaning hoarsely. He quickly releases you from his grip and you gasp, panting for air as he pulls you off of him, and lays you down under the covers next to him, exhausted. He bends over the bed and throws over his oversized tank top for you to wear and tucks his dick back into his pants.

You press yourself against your lover, sighing as he wraps an arm around you. “You were so good for me.” He whispered, massaging your back as you both tried to regain composure, sleepiness plaguing both of you. Eventually though, you both slowly fell into a deep slumber near the crack of dawn.

…

“Come on, we’re late.” Jotaro had his hands in his pockets, back to his usual stoic self as your trembling legs made it through the hallways of the hotel. You smile, babbling about your troubles as if he didn’t fuck you silly just last night. You were wearing a concealer to hide the bruises, cuts, and hickies on your neck, and try your best to control you walking—even though it stings to move your legs. Eventually you make it to them, sitting at a round, clothed table near the entrances of the dining hall, plates full of exotic food. All eyes are on you both as you two get seated next to each other. Suspiciously, you notice their conversation stopped right when you sat down. Joseph elbows his grandson’s ribs, making him glare coldly at the senior.

“What.”

“Sounded like someone had a fun night, eh?”

Jotaro’s eyes widened minimally listening to his grandpa’s chuckles, but he just grumbled.

“Gigi, what do you mean? Nothing happened.” He replied dryly.

Meanwhile, your face heated up, shocked. Were they able to hear you moan? That would be so embarrassing—

“Actually, last night I heard some strange sounds. Originally I thought I was an enemy stand user..” Kakyoin cleared his throat uncomfortably, trying to stay composed. He stirred cream into his coffee while he talked. “Until I heard someone ask jotaro to fuck them.” The red head couldn’t help but let the edge of his mouth slant into a smirk as your face reddened even more. With your face in your hands, you groaned in embarrassment. Your worst nightmare had come true. Even jotaro seemed a bit embarrassed, a finger on the rim of his cap, hiding his eyes as he looked down. He only sat back as Joseph’s booming laughter brought attention from nearby diners.

“Do not worry, ma cherie, atleast you enjoyed yourself. I didn’t know you were into choking..” Polnareff, who was sitting next to you, wrapped an arm around you and snickered. You thought you were gonna cry.

Everyone around you laughed except for you and Jotaro, but it's fine I guess, you can live with this. It was worth it.

[hangovercurse]

Last Night ii// Better Sober

After a show, you and Kells finally get around to the things you wanted to do sober.

Request: “I loved the new fic ‘Last Night’, any chance you’d write a second part where they sleep together sober-ish? If so could you write reader on top riding kells in it?””I just read “last night” (colson) and now I need a smut of their first time after the hangover omg pls 🥺”

Colson X Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+), cursing

A/N: Sorry this took so long *_*

Word Count: 2577

part i

Slim and Baze were never going to let you live this down. Once you and Colson had finally built up the strength to stand up, you quickly packed the rest of your things and got on your band’s bus, ignoring the snickers coming from the older men.

“Are you sure you don’t want to ride with us, Y/N? Keep the party going?” Slim asked, jokingly. You sent them a glare as you handed your suitcase to your bus manager, who was in the process of loading everything onto the bus.

“I will end both of you.” You grumbled, walking towards the stairs to board your bus.

Baze laughed, “we’re only joking. We all knew it’d happen eventually.” His dramatic smile combined with your pounding headache and nausea made for a very annoyed Y/N.

“I will say this once, and then never again. Either of you bring this shit up again, I’ll kill you.” You jabbed two fingers towards them. “Now I’m going to take a nap in my bed, on my bus.”

You walked up the stairs, your bandmates giving you puzzled looks as Slim called “love you too, kid!” You threw yourself into your bunk, not even bothering an explanation to your bandmates, the only thing on your mind was sleep.

Not 2 minutes after you’d closed the curtain to shield you from the outside world did it open again. You were laying on your side, back to the curtain to be as comfortable as possible. When the light from the hallway flooded into your bunk, you pretended to be asleep, hoping whoever it was would just go away.

You had no such luck, as seconds later the mystery person was climbing into your bunk, lying beside you. Curious, you turned to see who it was, though you could make an assumption. Finding the sleepy face of none other than Colson Baker, you smiled, turning to lay facing him.

“Your bus is quieter than mine.” He mumbled, wrapping his arms around you, and pulling you closer to him. “And I like sleeping with you better than sleeping alone.”

You shifted so that he could lay further away from the edge, resting your head on his shoulder, and laying an arm across his stomach. “I don’t mind.” You whispered, eyes closing slowly, “But as soon as we leave this bunk, we’re gonna have a million questions.”

Colson shrugged sleepily, moving your head with his motion. He mumbled something that sounded vaguely like “eh, fuck em” but you were already slipping away from consciousness.

The show you played that next night was arguably one of your best, probably due to the fact that Colson was watching you from the side of the stage the entire time. You tried to keep yourself from glancing over at him every few minutes, but between the adrenaline from the show, the smirk on his face, and the fact that you were wearing his shirt made that impossible.

You were sure fans would notice the familiar “Lace Up” shirt, but Colson claimed he “didn’t give a fuck” and he wanted to watch you play while wearing his clothes. You had no problem with it, enjoying the fact that he wanted everyone to know that you were his.

Once your set had finished and you’d thanked the audience, you ran off stage, your concert high rushing through your veins. Colson was getting ready to go on stage, so you figured you’d let him be until after the show.

As you and your drummer walked towards the greenroom, bouncing off each other’s energies, you were snatched away by a set of tattooed hands. “I’m borrowing her for a second.”

You giggled as Colson pulled you behind a cluster of cases, lips finding yours immediately. Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling you up closer to him. “God you are so fuckin’ hot” he mumbled against your lips.

“Don’t you have a show to go do?” You asked, a smirk on your lips.

He rolled his eyes and kissed you again. “You’re gonna watch, right?”

You chuckle lightly, “of course I’m watching. I was gonna go freshen up a little bit because I am soaked in sweat though.” As you spoke his lips travelled to your jawline, kissing up towards your ear. “You’re gonna be late if you don’t stop.” You told him, leaning your head to give him better access to your skin.

“We’ll finish this later.” Though the words came out in a whisper, there was clear dominance in his voice, making you smirk slyly. He moved away from you, hands lingering on your waist. “Keep that shirt on” he mouthed to you as he joined his band, putting his ears in.

You gave him a thumbs up, walking towards your dressing room to clean up as much as possible. The shirt you were wearing was drenched in sweat, but Kells had demanded you keep it on, much to your dismay.

Every time Colson looked side stage, you were standing there, watching him perform. You couldn’t see it, but the hungry look in your eyes had more of an effect on him than playing the set did. All he was thinking about anytime he found your eyes was dragging you to the hotel and fucking the life out of you.

And that’s pretty much the situation you found yourselves in, making out in the backseat of an uber on your way to the hotel. You barely made it through the lobby and into the elevator without his lips on yours, almost too intoxicated by them to care.

When you finally did get to the hotel room, Colson’s lips latched onto yours, pressing you up against the door. You moaned lightly as his teeth grazed over your bottom lip, the sound bringing a smirk to his face.

“Every time I looked over and saw you watching me, all I could think about was fucking you in this goddamn shirt.” When he spoke, his voice came out dark and dangerous, sending chills through your body. His hands moved underneath the shirt you were wearing, cupping your boobs as he reattached your lips.

You gasped as his cold hands made contact with your nipples, massaging them gently. “No bra?” He asked against your mouth, smirking.

“Figured it would make this a little easier.” You said before kissing him again. He hummed approval and continued to fondle your tits. The hands you had placed around his neck pulled lightly at the hair near his neck from pleasure.

His hands moved down your waist until they reached your ass, squeezing the skin through your shorts. He pulled you towards the bed, lips still locked on yours. Taking some initiative, you pushed him down onto the bed, pulling your shorts down to expose your underwear.

Colson threw his shirt off, exposing his infamous tattooed torso. You reached for the hem of the shirt you were wearing, but Colson stopped you. “Keep it on. I wanna think about this every time I see that fucking shirt.”

You let out a slight laugh, “the fucking shirt.” Colson rolled his eyes, pulling you by the elastic of your panties towards him. His hands went to your thighs, pulling them so that you were sitting on his lap, one knee on either side of his torso.

“You’re really lame, you know that?” He asked as you rested your arms on his shoulders. You bit your lip and nodded, pressing your hips further into his lap. His hands ran up the sides of your thighs and to your waist, pausing briefly to squeeze your ass. “It’s kinda hot though.” He mumbled, guiding your hips to roll onto his.

You leaned in, pressing your lips against his in a needy, passionate kiss. You continued to grind against his clothed hips, hands moving to run up and down his abdomen, taking in the muscle under your fingers.

Colson finally got impatient and pulled away from your kiss, gently moving you off of him and standing up. You gave him a confused frown, wondering if you’d done something wrong. Your silent question was answered when he pulled down his pants, leaving him in only his boxers.

The outline of his length through the thin material almost had you drooling. The wetness that had been between your legs since you’d put on his shirt made a reappearance. He turned around and shuffled through his bag, pulling out a foil packet and tossing it on the bedside drawers. “So we don’t forget.” He smiled, hands moving around your waist. His lips met yours briefly, but you had decided you wanted something else. You pulled away, pressing kisses to his jaw instead, travelling down to his neck.

The man chuckled as you took control, your lips finding their way to his collarbone and sucking on the skin between his tattoos, hoping to leave a mark. You continued your trek down his body, stopping just above his waistband to lick the three red X’s that lay on his skin. He threw his head back, “you are going to be the death of me.”

You looked up at him with a hum of agreement, your fingers grasping the waistband of his underwear and pulling them down to expose his hard member. He took in a sharp breath as you lightly stroked his length with your fingertips. Your tongue slipped out from between your teeth to lightly lick his tip, swirling around it. Colson’s grasped your hair, forcing you to look up to him, “don’t be a fucking tease.”

His voice was forceful, demanding. You obeyed willingly, wrapping your lips around his shaft, sucking gently. You heard the man let out a quiet moan of pleasure, encouraging you to take more of him into your mouth. What you couldn’t fit you jerked with your hand, Colson’s hand wrapping tighter into your hair as you did so.

You picked up your pace, eyes flicking up to take in his look of pleasure every so often. His moans were a music to your ears, the thrusts of his hips a work of art. “You feel so good, baby,” his husky voice flooded the room, “touch yourself for me.”

Using the hand that wasn’t pumping his cock to trail down to your panties, you moved them to the side and swiped across your slit. You hummed around his member, his hips jerking into you. “I bet you’re fucking soaked, aren’t you?”

You hummed again in agreement, one finger dipping into your heat, slowly spreading yourself out. Colson yanked your head back, making you look up at him again. “Use your words.”

“So wet for you.” You moaned, adding a second finger into yourself. Colson smirked at your confession, guiding your lips back onto his cock. Your pumps got faster, as did your sucking. The hand on your head pushed you further onto his length, speeding up your pace.

When you felt yourself nearing your release, Colson pulled your head off his member, cradling your face in his hands. He pulled you up lightly, your fingers removing themselves from you. He took your hand and guided it to his lips, sucking your juices off your fingers.

You reached over to the table, grabbing the condom. Your hands moved up Colson’s chest, exploring the skin. He leaned in and pressed a deep kiss to your lips, hands grabbing your waist and pulling you closer to him. You let him pull your underwear down your legs and took advantage of his momentary distraction.

As soon as he stood back up, you turned the two of you around, pushing him down onto the bed. “Oh hell no.” He said, sitting up to try and pull you onto the bed with him.

You gave him puppy dog eyes, toying with the condom wrapper in your hand. “What’s wrong, intimidated by a girl being on top?”

He chuckled, “you think you’re so tough, huh?” You nodded, moving to kneel at the foot of the bed, crawling up his body. “Don’t complain when you get tired.” He leaned back, arms resting behind his head to show he wasn’t going to help you.

“I think you’re scared of not being in control.” You whispered, landing in the position you had been working towards.

Colson scoffed, “I can still be in control from here.” You raised an eyebrow at him, hand reaching out to stroke his length. He tried to bite down his groans, but you knew they were there.

You rolled the condom onto his member, taking in the sight of him below you. “You were saying?” You shifted so that your body hovered above him, lining him up to your entrance. Slowly, you sank down onto him, both of you letting out synchronous moans of pleasure.

His hands moved to your thighs, rubbing up and down the skin. You allowed yourself to adjust before pushing yourself up with your knees and then sinking back down onto his cock. His grip tightened as you moved, trying not to guide you.

You sprawled your hands on his chest, watching his expression as you rode him. You swiveled your hips every once in a while, just to hear his moans. “Fuck.” He growled when you began to move faster, his length filling you up.

Colson’s grasp on your thighs began to lead you up and down, his hips thrusting to meet yours. He was right about one thing; he could still be in control from underneath you. You let out a whine every time he hit the right spot inside of you, your sounds filling the room.

“Fuck baby, you look so good,” he moaned out, looking up to you with your head thrown back and eyes closed in pleasure. “Getting fucked in my T-shirt. Want everyone to know you’re mine.”

You smirked at his words, “I’m all yours,” you whined out, the movement of your hips getting sloppier. One of his hands moved to your clit, rubbing circles onto the bundle of nerves. “Ah, fuck.” You moaned, hips bucking onto his further.

After a few more pumps you were at the edge of bliss, so close to falling off. You could tell Colson was close, his thrusts getting sloppy and his tip twitching inside of you. “You gonna cum, baby?” He whispered; eyes shut in pleasure. You hummed out a response, too indulged in the pleasure that you were so close to.

“Mm, cum around my cock, baby.” His fingers on your clit picked up pace, sending you diving over the cliff and into a pool of euphoria. Electricity spread through your body as your high washed over you. Colson continued thrusting into you, his orgasm following yours. You rode them out together, breaths heavy.

Once his thrusts slowed to a stop you lifted yourself off of his member and fell down beside him. He turned onto his side, eyes wandering your body. “You’re so beautiful.” His voice was breathy and tired, but one of the best sounds you’d ever hear.

You looked up to him, a small smile playing on your face. “Shut up.” You giggled, pushing him back down onto his back. He chuckled, standing up to dispose of the condom before climbing back onto the bed next to you, this time pulling you into his arms. His back leaned against the headboard, arm wrapped around you, with your head laying on his chest.

“Better sober?” You asked with a small chuckle.

“Better sober.”

[dragynkeep]

…would you like to critique the RWBY prom outfits? If you want, that is?

Hell yeah, I'm always here for outfit critiques.

The biggest issue imo with these prom outfits are that they're all practically the same. I get it, new outfits take time to design and model, but if they can make two whole outfits for Cinder for that same prom arc then I'm certain they could've put a bit more effort in designing cute outfits for the kids.

I'm not gonna talk about the guys' out of RWBYJNR since they're both literally the same tuxedo and there's nothing to say about them. They're boring.

All the girls' dresses are just really similar and unimaginative. Most are in their colours (apart from Yang), but the style is just modern prom dress you get after googling dresses for five minutes. All of them aren't stylised to the girls like the rest of their outfits, so we have Ruby wearing a similar dress to Weiss despite the two having very different tastes and themes.

Don't get me wrong, the dresses are by no means bad or ugly, they're just not that creative.

You would not believe how annoying it was to find a good screenshot of Ruby's whole outfit. Ignore her glowing skin.

So, this is a cute dress! It's obviously in Ruby's colour and really the only time she's fully in red without her big cape, and the splashes of black are nice and don't take away from the colour. I like that's it's a gradient that goes into a brighter red at the hem where the black trim is. On top of that, the black sash adds some interest around Ruby's waist.

Now, I really don't like the lace that's holding the top of her dress together? It's like the lace on her corset, but that's on a corset, not a fabric dress where it just looks strange. Not only that, but the semi-transparent mesh thing on her chest isn't really suiting with the style.

It just looks too revealing for Ruby? The length of the dress is perfectly fine, but her showing off her chest with the laced up dress and see through mesh underneath is not really a design choice I would attribute to Ruby like it works with Weiss.

I actually saw a dress on Tumblr that I think would really suit Ruby, link to the overall post here!

It's cute, and I think the covered chest and short sleeves suits Ruby more.

I mean... it's a dress.

Really, it's a nice dress. The style of it directly ties with her usual dress style compared to Ruby's sudden sexier version, the mesh underneath actually helps to introduce some contrast between her white skin and blindingly white dress, and it is her colour!

But it's just really boring. It's a simple white dress with a black lace thing underneath, there's nothing of interest on the dress, so you just kinda have nothing to look at. It would've been nice if they took more inspiration outfit wise from her V4 alternative dress, except obviously changing the colours.

I think this is a very regal and flowy type of dress that really suits Weiss!

This is a really cute dress.

Honestly, with how it's designed, this was the only time I think Blake being in purple rather than straight up black works better, otherwise we'd have the opposite but similar problem that we have with Weiss. The black of her collar, sash and shoes still keeps the colour, and the purple isn't the ugly purple they would use later on in the show.

The lil transparent shirt (What is it with these dresses and transparent tops?) adds a lil' more interest to the top area, and the streamlined design with the slit is a different look from the rest of her team, since they all went in short and puffy out skirts compared to Blake's.

Yes, it's a little plain still, and the bow randomly changing to a teal colour rather than a black like it looks here is a random colour that sticks out a bit too much with Blake's pallete. That said, it's still a nice dress.

Though Blake could've been one of the girls to go in a suit or something? She never wears dresses and prefers more pants and shorts, while still being pretty feminine. Idk, I don't understand the strict gender roles in this show where Jaune got laughed at for simply wearing a dress.

Thought that didn't exist in Remnant but okay.

Since her allusion is Belle, you could easily take inspiration for Blake's dress from Belle's in the Disney movie. Not so much as big and poofy, but the style of the top portion would look really nice.

Once again, Yang is in my least favourite outfit of the team.

It's just really boring to look at. It's a short dress with a lower neckline. I know it was because they didn't realise until it was too late, but Yang is once again not in her colour. I really wouldn't put her in bright yellow, but a nice cream or maybe pastel yellow would work a bit better with the big mass of yellow hair behind her.

A gradient similar to Ruby's would be really nice on the dress. Have the yellow be more saturated at the bottom to better distribute the colour throughout.

But really, and I've seen a lot of artists do this, put Yang in a qipao. If she's meant to be Chinese, why not take the opportunity to put her in a Chinese style dress? There's so many beautiful designs on them, Yang would look stunning in one.

Yes, I had to use this picture.

Really, I think this is up there with Blake as my favourite out of all the prom outfits. It's not a hard contest, but this dress is the only time where the overall dress style fits Nora.

The heart shaped top with the pointed bottom looks like a heart, fitting in with Nora's heart motif in her design, along with the puffed out skirt that sells the cute and girly style that Nora uses. The white skirt rather than having it all be pink makes the heart stand out more, and just keeps it from looking too plain like Weiss or Yang's.

I don't know if it's just the weird filter that plays on the Poser era episodes, but I like that the white even has a light pink tint to it.

Really, I would just add accessories and some detail to the dress, as well as change the shoes. All the girls are wearing open heeled shoes.

Pyrrha, what Carrie nonsense are you wearing-

Okay, the actual dress style is a nice one. I think it really does fit Pyrrha's more mature personality compared to the younger, more girlish style that most of the other girls wear.

The problem is that it's all red and it look ugly because of it. This is way too much of one colour with no detailing or accessories to break it up. You look at it for five seconds and get bored of it, because there's nothing there worth noting.

The only thing that catches your attention is Pyrrha's circlet, but now compared to her fighting gear, the gold is stuck on her head, partially hidden behind her red fringe. You really need to take more of the gold and add it to the actual outfit to better distribute the colour.

Go more for Greek style, like toga, with multiple layers that you can add different colours and designs to so you fit Pyrrha's allusion and make it more interesting and just nice to look at.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: III

“You can have me tonight or never

I thought you understood

Baby, some people are meant to be loved and others just naked

So take what I’m willing to give, love it or hate it.”

—Wrong, Zayn and Kehlani

A/N: alright SO!!!! the original part 3 ended up being at the cusp of 50k words (because i have no self control) and that is a LOT to read in one go so it’s getting split into parts 3 and 4! which means!! double update laidese and germs!!!! part 4 will be posted this SUNDAY, AUGUST 16th at 5PM PST/8PM EST :D we hope you enjoy this chapter, feedback is greatly appreciated, and please please PLEASE!!! if you like it, reblog it!!! and if you want, go nuts in the tags!! every single one is read!!! it keeps content creators motivated 💌leyla @sunflowervolvimp3​ took the liberty of making an incredible playlist to go along with our story, so feel free to check it out and see if you can find any clues as to what’s in store for the characters 👀without further delay, here she is...buckle up 👁👁this is gonna be quite the ride

ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : ysijwa playlist

word count: 24.2k

content/warnings: cheeky banter over texts, The Crew dragging Niall to shit, more banter over a glass of cheap wine, vampire!harry showing up to “interior design” sessions looking like a runway model, some fwb smut, degradation kink, very mild mentions of blood, and some ugly tapestries that somehow lead to sexting

///

Y/N definitely puts Harry’s number to good use. Very good use.

In fact, during the span of the next month or so, Harry reckons that she pulls up his contact on her phone so often that she probably has him listed on speed dial. The assumption is dramatic and probably incorrect, on behalf of his arrogance, but with how much time they start spending together, it’s hardly a stretch.  

It all begins exactly a week after their first time meeting. 

Harry still hates clubs. 

He hates them more than he did last week. He hates them more than he did yesterday, more than he did this morning, and even more than he did a minute ago. He fucking despises them. 

And yet, as Harry stands here before the mirror in his enormous double-sink bathroom, fiddling with his damp hair as his flouncy dress shirt hangs unbuttoned from his broad shoulders, he’s absolutely positive he has never hated clubs more than right now. 

Niall got to pick the venue this time. He’d texted his choice in the groupchat (which is respectfully named Dinner Plans) about four hours ago, making sure to get the word out decently early so that everyone could start making their preparations, all in order for the crew to be on the move by nine P.M. 

It’s now nine thirty-seven, and everyone is fully set to leave at the agreed upon hour. Everyone except Harry. 

This, however, is not uncommon. He’s always the one that takes the longest to get ready, no matter how soon he starts. No one can remember an instance where Harry has ever been ready on time— which says a lot, considering most of the gang has years of memories from which they can pull. Mitch especially. With almost a century of friendship behind them, not once has the older vampire ever seen Harry stick to a deadline. His flare for being fashionably late is less a flare, and moreso an irritating burn. It always throws off their game a bit, but at this point, everyone has gotten used to the seemingly young vampire’s theatrics. 

So on this Friday night, there isn’t much more to do other than mold to his habits; Harry answers to no one except himself and it’s been that way for decades now, for a reason he’d rather not reminisce. He doesn’t owe anything to anyone, especially since he’s the one that always takes charge of getting them where they need to go, as well as getting them inside said destination. Complaining about their leader wouldn’t do the gang any good for a number of reasons, especially because Harry rarely ever listens. It is what it is— he’s just the way he is, and they’ve all learned to live with and respect that.

The funny thing? Harry does it on purpose, though his friends aren’t aware of it. He drags out the process of getting prepared simply so he can put off having to step inside one of those circus acts people refer to as clubs. He goes as slow as possible and does as much as possible, spreading seconds into minutes, and maybe— if he’s insistent enough and feeling particularly pesky— an hour. His record is an hour and twenty-eight minutes, which he wears with pride, much to his group’s unamusement. 

Harry knows no one will ever say anything about his annoying tendencies, unless they’re willing to volunteer themselves to take the reins for the night. Vampires are alert and productive, but only when they want to be— which is usually only when it benefits them— and only if they can muster up the patience for it. And frankly, none of the creatures he associates with have the patience required to deal with security, driving, and other obstacles the way Harry does. He’s indispensable, and therefore, everyone puts up with his shit. Quid pro quo has never been more effective. 

So here Harry stands, now thirty-eight minutes past the original time sorted for departure, carefully combing volumizing mousse into his slightly wet curls and spinning each ringlet around his index finger to give them the definition and bounce he’s so well-known for. Here he is, finishing up his post-shower routine as all of his friends mill around downstairs in his living room, waiting for him to come down so they can pack into his car and head out for the weekly hunt at whatever establishment has been deemed fit for the night. And here he is, taking his sweet time so he can be the signature pain in the ass that everyone hates to love. 

Once Harry has thoroughly coated all of his hair with the fluffy white cream, he pulls out his hair-dryer from the cabinet below his sink, snapping its accompanying diffuser into place and flipping his head upside down. He carefully scrunches his curls to his roots with the attachment, moving in thoughtful circles as he hums to the rhythm of a song he can’t be bothered to remember the name of. Staring down at his polished jet black heeled boots, he absentmindedly taps against the porcelain ground to the beat of the music, sighing wistfully as warm air circulates its way across his scalp. 

Harry turns his shoes to the side, admiring the detailing along the back of the heel. Across the curved surface is the word SUCKER, bedazzled onto the article with multicolored jewels, glitzing beautifully under the fluorescent lighting of his bathroom. The shoes had been a gift from a friend with connections in high places; more specifically, connections to the man who sits on the throne of the Gucci brand. Harry hadn’t questioned the present when he’d received it— only an idiot would bat a cautious eye at such a luxury. He’d fallen in love with them the second they landed in his palms, decked out in a gorgeous satin box and wrapped with sparkly black tissue paper. The only words that had dared leave his lips were, “Fuck, I think I just got hard.”

The shoes had fit like a charm, and he had wanted to save them for a special occasion. But given that he has hundreds of years worth of special occasions lined up for his future, he’d shrugged off his pickiness and yanked them out the back of his closet for tonight. What better way to show them off than at an overhyped disco hall? 

Harry flips his head right-side up once again, ruffling his fingers through his soft, shiny curls to check for any wet patches or stringiness. He rolls up the wire to his styling tool and puts it back in its designated spot, grabbing his favorite paddle brush and attentively filtering it through his hair until he gets the tousled waves that he’s grown so fond of sporting. He musses them until he’s satisfied with his appearance, nodding at himself casually in the mirror as he proceeds to wrap up the last few necessities he has left. 

Harry buttons his blouse, admiring it in the fogged mirror. It’s a flowy sheer black piece with holographic threads sewn through its expanse, the fabric continuously shimmering with every shift of his muscles from underneath. He leaves the last three holes empty to better show off the dark butterfly inking on his lean chest and the swallows suspended in flight along his collarbones. He doesn’t really have to leave the shirt open, given that the material is see-through to the point where it leaves very little to the imagination, obvious in how all the tattoos along his arms are clearly visible. But he does it either way— he likes it when people stare. He’s got the assets, he might as well flaunt them.

Harry loosely tucks the hem of the shirt along the brim of his high-waisted beige slacks, which he’d ironed with precision to an ideal fold. He opts out of a belt tonight, wanting to display the array of elegant buttons that line the front of his pleated trousers. The pants hang slightly flared around his ankles, and if someone’s interests were intent enough, they might catch a glimpse of his favorite socks underneath the cusps, the words FUCK IT printed across the dark cotton fabric. He always makes sure to have an aspect in his outfit that could make for neat conversation.  

The vampire pulls out one of his drawers, ghosting his fingers over his collection of jewelry before picking out a pearl necklace and his father’s gold-plated cross necklace, as well as a colorful array of rings. He makes sure to retrieve the most significant two, as always— his lionhead amethyst daylight ring and his mother’s opal. He never goes anywhere without them. 

After he’s slipped on those accessories, bending and stretching his fingers for good measure and feeling everything settle into place, he picks out the gold cross earring that matches his necklace. It used to be part of a pair that belonged to his sister. As he watches the gold twinkle in the artificial light, he briefly wonders what happened to its twin, but pushes the thought away before it leads him down a path of pessimistic speculations. 

Harry loops the dangly piece through his earlobe, sighing through his nose as his gaze jets around his entire look, searching for any possible faults he could tend to that would prolong the inevitable— another night of drunken morons and thick synthetic smoke. 

Harry decides to fold the cuffs of his shirt up to his elbows, knowing that it makes his veiny forearms look appealing. He rummages through his selection of colognes before deciding to go with his trusty Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille, spritzing a bit along specific pressure points on his neck where a pulse would otherwise be present, following along with the insides of his wrists. The scent of cloves, sugar-frosted vanilla, and cedar wood envelope him in a warm ambiance. After that task is complete, he fusses with his necklaces for a minute or so, settling the cross between his pectorals and resting the rosey pearls across his clavicle, fingering at their smooth surface in thought. Much to his defeat, everything seems to be in order, down to his freshly lacquered black nails. It’s not his fault he’s nearly flawless. His long— and unfortunate— extension on life had given him a plethora of years to work himself into a state of physical perfection. There’s only so much one can do to their appearance before it becomes superiorly stagnant. 

Harry tunes his heightened hearing for a second, listening in to the conversation his friends are entertaining on the first level of his condo. Niall’s voice is the first one that comes through, unsurprisingly. He’s always the loudest and has zero filter, present in how he’s freely ranting about Harry’s exaggerated mannerisms as he paces back and forth across the floor, footsteps heavy. No one seems to be paying him any mind— As usual, Harry thinks to himself, snorting softly— because everyone appears to be caught up in their own personal lives, too lost in gossip and exchanging opinions to give the Irish vampire any thought. 

None of his gang seem bothered by his lack of rush, but Harry knows he can’t keep them waiting forever. Fridays are the day they’d all collectively agreed to hunt together and it had been as so for almost twenty years. Being the leader, Harry can’t let his childish distaste for nightlife get in the way of what’s best for the group. He needs to hunker down on his selfish inclinations and be a responsible friend, or else a human might not be the only person Niall sinks his fangs into tonight.

With one final lingering stare at his reflection, Harry goes to retrieve his phone from its face-down position on the dark marble counter, simultaneously reaching for the light switch to begin powering down his apartment for the next couple of hours until he returns. Hopefully with a pretty girl hanging off his arm and less of a burn in the back of his throat. Although Harry may be cynical, he’s also practical; if he’s going to have to spend eternity on this planet, he may as well try to conserve enough energy to make it bearable. After decades of adjusting to electricity, the last thing Harry wants is to return to candlelit rooms and going to bed in time with the sun. 

The sudden chime that shrieks from his device causes him to jump a tad, brows furrowing in mild confusion for a few reasons. First, because it’s such an odd coincidence that right as he went to grasp it, his smartphone had gone off; it’s almost spooky. Second, because anyone who would normally dare message him at this hour is currently sequestered downstairs on the cushions of his sectional sofa, waiting for him to emerge from his room. Who else could possibly need to contact him this late, especially at the beginning of the weekend? 

Harry flips his red iPhone curiously (yes, he’d bought it in red for the purpose of irony), peering down at the unknown number shining back up at him from the screen. 

The text is simple enough: Hey, accompanied by three disco ball emojis. 

After a few seconds of blank blinking and adamantly searching through his mind for a clue as to who this could be, the answer smacks him square between the eyes. The memories come to him in quick flashes. 

A bald bouncer with a stupid name. A two-story room with seven foot tall speakers and a bar nuzzled in the corner. A group of loud, tipsy girls in stilettos and glittery dresses. One girl, sitting amidst the ruckus looking alone and indifferent while everyone around her gave into inebriated chaos. Mitch urging him to go talk to her. The overwhelming smell of honey and lavender. Gentle caresses placed across the tattoos painting his arms. Pretty lips the color of fresh blood, drained glasses of liquor, and witty banter exchanged between suggestive glances and cheeky grins. Shouldering through a crowded dance floor with the young woman in tow. Settling her into the passenger’s seat of his Cadillac and feeling heat explode across his cold cheeks when she’d yanked him down by his collar, kissing him like his lips were her only source of air. 

A quaint apartment complex, flickering lights in a corridor, and a worn couch. A warm mouth, smudged lipstick, teary eyes, and the gentle, shaky echo of, “I want to make you feel good.” High-waisted silk pants discarded on the floor, a cream lace blouse, and pastel pink lingerie. Thighs squeezing his head as her sweet taste spilled across his tongue. The mortal’s bare back pressed to his chest as he worked his hips roughly into her, mumbling dirty promises against her ear. Sugary whimpers and needy pleads. The warm, tangy flavor of her blood filling his mouth and sedating the burning in his throat. Childish giggles shared in a tiny flat, her warm fingers sewing between his icy own and tugging him into her room. A sleepless night full of steady breaths and only one heartbeat. A stupid tapestry and an ugly popcorn ceiling. A late morning strewn with sarcastic jokes mumbled over the rim of a coffee mug. Pulling his favorite t-shirt over his head and inhaling the sweet smell that had been glued to every thread. 

Making a drastic decision and typing his information into her phone. 

Harry doesn’t mean to speak aloud, but the name slips down his tongue as easily as he’d drawn moans from hers. “Y/N.”

It’s not like he didn’t remember her, because he did. And it’s not like he hadn’t thought of her since, because he had. But it’d been in passing and barely relevant— faint recollections in the form of fleeting seconds. 

He’d thought of her a couple days ago, when he’d been wandering around the mall with his friends. They’d passed by a candle shop where, among all the mixed scents, there had been the unmistakable aroma of lavender and honey somewhere inside, smelling vaguely like her. She’d unwillingly made her way to the forefront of his mind when he’d gone to do laundry, picking out his baby blue Marc Jacobs t-shirt from his hamper and feeling his eyes dilate and fangs protrude— a result of animalistic instinct. As it turns out, she had left a bloodstain along the inside of the yellow collar of his tee. It was dried and crusted over by the time he found it, but the effect it had on him remained the same as the night he’d drawn it fresh from one of her arteries. He’d chucked the garment into the wash carelessly with hardly any hesitation. 

The girl had even elbowed into his brain during an important self-care session. He’d been sitting in his glorified bathtub— which, in shallow honesty, is just a jacuzzi— with his cock twitching in his palm while his head hung over the edge, an orgasm teetering along the trench of his stomach as he’d repeatedly thumbed over his tip. When he’d finally coaxed himself into a climax, moans running freely across the empty halls of his home, the image he saw in those short moments of pure bliss was of her. It was Y/N, sitting in front of him with her hands clasped between her bare thighs obediently, his prick running along the length of her warm tongue as her eyes pleaded for him to cum. 

But, as he’d stated before, the picture had only lasted a handful of seconds. As soon as his high had died down, it had disintegrated to ash, and he’d been left with a slightly startled mental imprint in its wake, which had faded away within minutes. He hadn’t thought of her since. 

That is, until now. Until the surface of his jade eyes are reflecting the message his phone had just received at nearly ten P.M., her identity obvious in her choice of emojis. 

A disco ball. The exact same character he’d assigned himself beside his name in her contact list. It was an inside joke; a result of the hatred they both shared for clubs, juxtaposed by the fact that they had met in one. It was a cute determining factor in their minimal acquaintanceship, and he’s always a sucker for a good paradox. 

Harry continues to stare down at the text message, trying to conjure up some type of answer. She couldn’t have caught him at a better time, quite literally. She could be his saving grace tonight, if he plays his cards right. Maybe if he swoons her enough, she’ll invite him over again, and he can avoid another night full of shit-faced idiots and blinding strobe lights. 

After careful consideration, he swipes open into their new text conversation and taps back a reply he deems appropriate, satisfied with how it shows his personality— the same one the mortal girl had been so taken with upon their first encounter. 

Well, this is awkward. I don’t remember giving my number to a disco ball.

The vampire waits idly for a response, watching as the message delivers and is immediately marked by a read receipt. He doesn’t know why, but he likes that she has them on. 

A swift pause follows— in which he has no doubt she’s probably attempting to come up with some type of witty remark to his— and then the three grey bouncing bubbles pop up, signifying that she’s typing back. His device bloops with her response, vibrating in his large palms.

Funny as ever, I see. It’s Y/N, from the club last Friday. 

Harry’s slightly disappointed by her humor-lacking answer, but he’ll keep the interaction going for curiosity’s sake. Some people are fun in person and just not that bright virtually. Can’t always have it all.

Oh, hey, Y/N! So are you translating on behalf of the disco ball that wanted to talk to me or…?

He can practically see her eye rolling up at the grungy ceiling of her room and that notion makes his lips twitch. 

Ha. Ha. Hilarious! But no, I’M the one who wants to talk to you, actually.

Harry can feel her sarcastic tone through this specific message and that gives him hope. Maybe she does have social networking skills. 

Oh. Well, give the disco ball my best regards then, will you? Don’t want it to think I’m being rude and casting it aside.

The creature can’t see it, but now Y/N’s lips are the ones jolting as she sits on her bed in nothing but a towel, damp hair beading water down her naked shoulders and back.

How caring of you! I’ll pass on the message.

A full grin begins to edge across Harry’s cheeks as she returns his banter just as easily as she would face to face, dimples threatening to indent into place. That’s more like it. 

His fingers poise over the keyboard, mind flicking through the different scenarios he could steer this conversation towards. He has to be perceptive and respectful, but also keep her entertained. He figures asking about her intentions is the best route to take, but he’ll do it subtly. Being too direct could come off pushy. 

So...what gives me the honor of basking in your presence tonight, hm?

He adds a thinking face emoji to the end of the text as an afterthought. He rarely uses emoticons, but now is as good a time as any to start, especially because he has to seem like someone who belongs to her generation, rather than a Victorian era immortal.

Well, you said if I wanted more interior design advice to shoot you a text so...here I am, seeking your expertise.

Harry allows himself to break into a wide simper at the shrouded compliment. It goes right to his ego, just as he likes it. She’s smart. 

My expertise, huh? I take it that my taste in wallpaper left you pretty satisfied last time, then?

A similar grin buckles Y/N’s face at his playful smugness and she bites into the side of her index finger to try and suppress it. After a moment of thought, she releases her digit from between her teeth and taps back. 

Very satisfied, yeah. Your help was greatly appreciated.

Harry scoffs coyly, leaning his shoulder against the lightly fogged black marble wall of his bathroom, his friends and plans for the night all but forgotten. He’s having too much fun flirting to pay anything else much mind. 

My pleasure, love. I’d be more than happy to give it again, anytime you need it. Just make sure to fill out the customer service survey my boss emailed you. I’m shooting for a raise and could really use the brownie points. 

“Cute.” Y/N murmurs to herself in amusement, her chest fluttering as a result of the pet name, alongside how well they’re getting on. It’s almost like no time has passed at all. Almost as if they’re friends. 

She’d been nervous to reach out, fearing that he’d see it and ignore her— or worse, leave her on read. Needless to say, this is going way better than she could’ve hoped

Already filled that out. Gave you five stars and everything. Would’ve given you six if it was allowed. 

Harry shifts his weight against the surface he’s using for support, chuckling softly as he gnaws along the inside of his cheek. He feels like a teenager with all of this borderline childish back-and-forth. He’s not mad about it, though. It’s pretty enjoyable. 

Thank you so much for your input! It’s taken into deep consideration. VERY deep consideration, if I recall correctly.  

Warmth pours into Y/N’s cheeks at his innuendo, and she somewhat hates that he can get her all flustered without actually being present. He’s really good at this. A true lucky strike, to put it in his own words.

I’m glad my standards are held so highly, especially since I’m trying to book another advising appointment with you. 

Is that so?

Very much so. How about tonight, if you’re free? I’ve got a dire situation with some wood paneling that I just can’t handle alone.

The vampire’s irises flare crimson red in triumph. It looks like he won't have to put himself through another mortifying ordeal tonight, after all. 

I’m on a tight schedule, Y/N. These expertise are highly sought after, yanno?

Y/N snorts at his pompous joke. “Moron.”

Another text comes in from Harry before she can even think of a response.

However, I think I might be able to squeeze you in for a help session today. Say in about 10 to 15 minutes? 

With newly brightened eyes, Y/N gives the message five repasses to make sure she’d interpreted it correctly. She can’t believe he’d agreed, especially at an hour when most people already have weekend plans cemented for the night. And by the length of time he’d given her to prepare, she’s extremely thankful she’d decided to shower prior to attempting a booty-call. 

Sounds perfect. Do you need me to send you my address or do you remember, by some miracle?

Don’t worry about it, pet. I have a pretty good memory of that night. You made it hard to forget. 

Another layer of heat crawls up her neck and into her ears. She knows this is a casual thing, at best, but for some reason, the idea that he had deemed her unforgettable makes her entire body feel like it’s glowing. She tries to brush it off, chalking up his compliment to how they’d seen each other barely a week ago so of course he remembered. It was fairly fresh in both their minds. 

But Y/N is from an area where she was just another face in the crowd— another timid girl in an ocean of a hundred small-town carbon copies— and she’d certainly never referred to herself as anything particularly special. To have Harry, who is such a refined and attractive person, who most likely has dozens of hook-ups under his belt, call her that? Of all people? It just hits differently. 

She shakes herself out of her head, remembering that a very interesting boy is waiting for a response on the other end of her phone.

Alright, then. See you in 10 to 15 minutes, Mr…? 

Y/N comes to the realization that she doesn’t even know his last name. She doesn’t know the last name of the guy she’d let into her house and between her legs. God, if her parents could see her now...They’d blow California into a crater. 

The name’s Styles. Harry Styles. 

She immediately recognizes the reference, chewing at her bottom lip to keep a tab on a girly giggle. It’s probably not healthy how easily he reduces her into such a dopey puddle. 

Alright, then, Mr. Harry Styles. See you soon?

Very soon. Can’t wait to show you the wood samples I just found.

With a sly smirk dimpling his cheeks, Harry pushes off the elegant stone wall of his luxury bathroom, locking his device and absentmindedly tapping it along his palm as he does a quick mind-sweep of the interaction he’d just had. He’s going to get his needs taken care of—both intimate and carnal— by a girl with whom he meshes with so well, no less. This night has taken an unexpected turn for the better, and he’s never been more thankful for making such a rash decision the morning after a one night stand. 

The shrill boom of an Irish accent breaks Harry out of his flirty stupor, the sound bounding up the stairs of his flat and echoing off the tiles in his bathroom. “Harry, did you fucking desicate up there, you prick?!”

The vampire’s head snaps to the side towards where the sudden intrusion is originating, clearing his throat softly before answering, mostly to anchor himself back into the present. He’d been too busy floating in a daydream bubble to give his friends any proper attention. “I’m on my way down!”

Harry flicks off the light switch to his master bathroom, heading into his dimly lit bedroom and scooping up his wallet from its usual spot on top of the dresser. He tucks it into the wide front pocket of his slacks along with his cell phone, rounding the king-sized mattress at the center of his space, footsteps muffled by the thick maroon carpeting across the ground. He stops under the doorframe, giving his room one last calculating glance to make sure he isn’t leaving anything important behind. Once the creature is sure he’s set, he reaches over and slides the switch meter all the way down until the hanging lamps on the ceiling fade to black. 

Harry clambers down the glass and metal staircase, passing the collection of original paintings organized across the expanse of the largest wall in his home. His friends spot him from the huge couch once he’s halfway down the steps, and of course Niall is the first to make his presence audible.

“Fucking finally.” The blue-eyed vampire groans in exasperation, shooting up from his seat beside Xander, arms falling across his lean chest. “I thought you’d died. Really died.”

Harry dismounts the last stair carefully, heeled boots making a soft clicking sound against the polished light-wash wood of his floorboards. He pushes a few rogue curls out of his eyes, the corners of his mouth jilting upwards teasingly as he regards the fellow immortal. “If I have to keep staring at that shitty paisley button-up you’re wearing, I just might.”  

Niall’s irritated expression shatters into one of sheer hurt, hands fumbling with the silk fabric of his shirt, lips melting into a pained pout as he contemplates it sadly. His tone comes out whiney and defensive. “Hey! I really like this one!”

Harry side-steps the boy, giving him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Your fashion sense makes me question my friendship with you.”

Niall’s face pinches with anger, thick brows furrowing as he roughly swats the brunette’s wrist away. “And your dickhead attitude makes me question mine.” 

Harry’s jade eyes dance with evil glee as he returns his palm to where it had been resting before to give a curt squeeze, his rings playfully digging into the muscle beneath Niall’s top. “And yet here you are, sitting on my couch, waiting to get into my car. Funny how that works, innit? We benefit from one another. Mutualism at its finest.”

The Irish man shrugs himself free of his friend’s hold once again, glaring at him with darkening eyes, but there’s no true malice behind it. “More like parasitism.” 

“So are you two gonna kiss now or what?” Mitch’s soft, mocking voice butts in as he drifts up beside Niall, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark denim straight jeans and his long hair tied back into a low ponytail. He’s wearing a light-wash Rolling Stones t-shirt he’d gotten at a concert he and Harry had attended back in the eighties, along with a pair of scuffed up sneakers. Pretty casual for a club— too casual, in Harry’s opinion. “The sexual tension is killing the audience.” 

The green-eyed boy cranes his sight back onto Niall, raising his eyebrows in question and puckering his lips. “What d’you say, Ni? Wanna kiss this little disagreement better? I’m down.”

The pale young man makes a gagging noise, stepping away. “Don’t know where your mouth’s been. But if your bed fellows have anything to say about it, it’s nowhere good. I’m going to respectfully decline.” 

“There was absolutely nothing respectful in that response.” Adam chimes in, chuckling as he bumps Niall’s shoulder with his own, hands clasped casually behind his back. “You need to work on your people skills.”

“My people skills are fine.” Niall quips back sarcastically. “Harry just isn’t a person, he’s a demon.” 

“Technically, we all are.” The curly-haired vampire points out, walking over to his matte leather couch and retrieving a pin-striped, grey-black fitted blazer from its backrest. He tosses the jacket over his shoulders, shrugging it on and fixing the material over his torso, the curves of the piece accentuating the strong muscles of his back and the dip of his slender waist. “I just don’t care to hide it, really. Especially not when it comes to Niall’s taste in clothes. Which is rubbish, by the way. If that wasn’t clear before.”

“It was.” Niall deadpans, gaze half-lidded and petty.

Harry fixes the sleeves of his coat around his forearms, smoothing out any wrinkles and buttoning the cuffs. He momentarily ducks into the kitchen, his enhanced eyesight spotting the small digital time-stamp of the oven even from across the room. He has less than thirteen minutes before he has to be at Y/N’s flat. He should’ve suggested a longer time span.

Harry turns back around to fully face his crew, situating his collar into place by folding it along the back of his neck, appraising their expectant appearances. They’re all waiting for him. He’s the one driving, after all. 

The immortal clears his throat, hands dropping to pat at his blazer pocket, making sure that his keys are in his possession. He sighs lightly through his nose, a knowing grin trying to force its way onto his lips but he keeps it at bay, wanting to maintain a straight expression to garner less backlash for the news he’s about to break. 

“I’m not going.”

The pause that fills the atmosphere and the blank faces his friends dote are almost comical. Harry bats his eyelashes at them without a single twitch or jerk of his features. He wants them to understand he’s being serious.

After at least ten heartbeats— a guess, considering no one in the room has one to provide an accurate measurement— a raging exclamation explodes from behind the other three vampires in front of him. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

Harry watches in mild amusement as Xander stomps up from behind the group, shouldering between Mitch and Adam and sticking him with a glower dark enough to instill fear in any living being. But Harry is hardly living, and he’s definitely not scared of a vampire who’s practically a newborn. Xander’s the youngest of them in terms of the immortality scale— he’d transitioned back in nineteen ninety-six when he was thirty, which gives the illusion that he’s older when in reality, he isn’t— so Harry’s strength easily outmatches his. Xander is basically the puppy of the circle, and he’s certainly yappy and annoying enough to support that title. His lack of age and wisdom is also probably why he’s the most explosive. 

Harry kinks an eyebrow up at the taller, tanned man, looping only one button through its designated hole in the middle of his jacket. That will allow him to show off what lies beneath it while also making sure the article won’t be a pest in the windy California night. “I’m not kidding. Something else came up that...peaked my interest.”

Xander’s fists momentarily clench by his sides and he then folds his arms across his lightly heaving chest, trying to hide his anger away along the insides of his elbows. He spits his words through gritted teeth, attempting to keep his cadence level. “What could have possibly come up so late that you only let use know after we waited for you for over an hour?”

Harry can’t stop himself from smirking this time around, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards with condescension. The statement that he produces is all too familiar to Xander, given that it mirrors the reply he had used on Harry exactly a week ago, when the leader of the group had asked him what his intentions were once they’d gotten inside their club for the night. “I have a date.”  

Xander’s entire face flushes a faint shade of cherry red. His forearms tighten across his body, tone more strained than before as he actively wills himself to remain calm. “A date?”

The shorter vampire smiles at him with fake innocence, working his every nerve like it’s his job. Harry doesn’t know why, but pissing Xander off is always such a delectable pastime. “Yup. With a girl I met last week, actually.”

“You don’t go on dates.” Niall pipes up, looking around at the other men in the room in confusion, almost as if his comment should be obvious. “You rarely even spend the night. Said so yourself.” 

Harry shrugs one shoulder indifferently, checking his reflection in the closest section of the glass wall that overlooks the city skyline, the lights of the cars and buildings below twinkling otherworldly. “I guess it’s less a date and more a booty-call, to be honest. I only agreed ‘cause it’s easier than having to drag my ass to that horrid club you chose to spend hours trying to find someone. This meal’s already prim, proper, and served. And I know for a fact I’ll enjoy it, so there’s no real harm.” 

He turns back to Xander, the man’s peeved reaction tickling him more than he thought it would. “What was that you said last time, Xanny?”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“Oh, yeah! I'm just grabbing a to-go box for my already prepped meal.”

Harry’s friend’s cheeks dye a deeper shade of crimson, dark veins webbing across the iridescent whites of his eyes for a flickering second. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

Harry counters the angry expression with a bright smile, his dialect dripping with arrogance. “Girls dig it. And you seemed to dig it, too, if I recall correctly. Remember? You might not. Post-orgasm amnesia and all that.” 

Xander takes a measured inhale, releasing it slowly and allowing his anger to ebb away gradually, ignoring Harry’s blast from the past. His next question is physically directed towards their ex-chauffeur, but is truly aimed at the gang as a whole. “Who’s going to take us, then?”

The curly-haired vampire shrugs his shoulders once again, uninterested in the topic that is quickly growing old. “You could take Niall’s car. Problem solved.”

The whole clique lives in the same condo complex, mostly due to convenience. It’s already tricky for vampires to find others of their kind, so it’s a miracle that they’d all managed to end up together in the first place. And it’s an even bigger miracle that they got along well enough to form a tight-knit coven, which is the closest thing any of them now have to family. Living in close proximity is the ideal way of maintaining that rare bond, plus it allows them to help each other in staying safe and keeping their urges in line. 

Since they all live in the same building, Niall’s car is in the garage right beside Harry’s, so transportation shouldn’t be an issue. They just always take his vehicle because he’s the only one that actually enjoys driving. 

“Are you mental? Like actually, genuinely insane?” Xander sputters in appalled shock. “Niall drives like a lunatic!” 

“Oi, piss off! Maybe you should learn to drive then, huh? Instead of having all those guys you shag take you everywhere.”

Xander ignores Niall’s insult, putting his palms up in disgust, backing away. “I refuse to get in a car with him behind the wheel. Dying once was good enough for me.”

“Did I miss the memo?” Niall snaps, glimpsing around at all the monsters standing around him, attitude tight with annoyance. “Y’know, the one where you all just decided to shit on me tonight?”

Harry bursts into an airy cackle, listing his head to the side as he gives Niall a humorous once-over, his dangly cross earring dabbing across the crisp cut of his coat’s shoulder blade. “You don’t necessarily make it hard, love.” 

Niall’s jaw clenches as he narrows his icy blue eyes. “Xander’s right— you are an asshole.”

“Yeah, well, he’s also right about you driving like you’re on tranquilizers.” Adam sighs, running a palm up his face, using his index finger and thumb to massage either of his temples, despite the fact that they lack a pulse. “I guess I could drive? I hate it, but Mitch hates it more, so I’m our best bet. Better than Road Runner over here.” 

“Yeah, just keep talking about me like I’m not present. That’s fine. I’m spitting venom in all your drinks tonight.” 

“Well,” Harry boasts abruptly, interrupting the game of verbal ping-pong happening in front of him, taking a quick peek at his phone for the time. As much as he loves causing some good-natured chaos between his friends, he has less than ten minutes to make it to Y/N’s apartment on time and traffic’s a bitch at this hour. “I have nothing to do with this anymore, so I’m just gonna take my leave. You lot have fun figuring this out.” 

He swivels around on his heel, striding away with his usual haughty air straightening his back, heading towards the corridor that leads to the front entrance of the apartment. The softly lit hallway swallows his silhouette and for the first time since he’d left the secluded confines of his bathroom, he allows a giddy smile of excitement to tweak his lips. Just for a second and not a moment longer. If his friends had seen it, they would’ve taken the piss.

Niall’s accent cuts through the air, prickling at his ears as the glossy, cold doorknob comes into contact with his even colder fingers. “I can’t believe you’d abandon us just to get laid!”

“Lock the door on your way out!” 

///

When a sharp knock echoes across Y/N’s flat, she nearly screams. 

Her nerves have been on edge since the last text she’d received; only after reading that final cheeky message had the reality of the situation hit. 

This isn’t her. This isn’t her at all.

Inviting a total stranger into her home and into her bed was something she’d never experienced before last week. One night stands were very few and very far for her— she could count all the ones she’d had on a single hand, and even then they had been with people she had known to some extent— and it was due to the fact that this type of situation is slathered in mystery and unsureness. Giving herself up in such an intimate manner to someone she wasn’t acquainted to in some shape or form…It comes with a certain amount of risk, both physically and emotionally, which is why she hardly ever engaged in such activities before Harry.

It’s not that there’s anything wrong with having that type of exhilarating fun in your life— she praises the women who can go around so confidently and express their sexuality however they please— but she herself had been raised under a roof that was moderate and conservative, and that environment had molded her into the person she had grown up to be. Those traditional concepts ran through the core of her being, and no matter how hard she tried to shake them, they refused to break loose. They weighed on her shoulders, constantly making her second-guess her motives and desires, most of which go against the status quo that had been implemented into her brain from a young age. This— whatever this is— is a huge step for her; it’s the first attempt she’s made to take over her own life and go against the grain she’d been accustomed to her whole existence. 

From the second Y/N had arrived here in Los Angeles and set a foot off the plane, she had been alone. Everyone who cared for her was miles and miles away and she was starting a new chapter on a completely blank page, with no one to guide her hand as she wrote. For the two months she’d spent settling in and trying to meld into her new environment, she had gone at it with a sense of emptiness hollowing the pit of her stomach. No one was there to comfort her during the rough patches, and no one cared enough yet to assure her that things would turn out alright. No one had bothered to tell her she was safe and that nothing would hurt her. No one made themselves available the way people did back home. 

That is, until she met Harry seven days ago. 

Their encounter had been purely for sexual gratification, but during that short time they shared, she vividly remembered him telling her that she could trust him. It was a preposterous statement to make— asking someone to trust you when you didn’t even know their last name— but the gaze in his emerald eyes had seemed so genuine and encouraging, and his voice had been so gentle and soothing, and his touch had been so delicate and consoling...That strange young man— with the pretty curls, intriguing tattoos, and dazzling smile— had somehow managed to untie the knot of unease that had been sitting in her belly for the last couple of weeks. She’s stumped on how he’d managed to wriggle it free; the only thing she can effectively say took a part in it was his eyes. There was just such a glass-like quality to them that reminded her of a mirror. It was like they were reflecting all her emotions back at her, using their familiarity to compel her into a state of mental peace. She’d appreciated it more than she’d let on. 

Something tells Y/N that this is the reason she had contacted him. She wanted to feel that safety net he had provided her with once again. She didn’t need an emotional connection from Harry, she just needed a bit of mental relief. She wanted something to take her mind off all her troubles. Something to distract her, even if it was only for a few hours. And with the way Harry had handled her last time, she knows he’s more than capable of helping her reach those goals. 

Y/N doesn’t think anyone has ever made her feel how Harry had that semi-drunken Friday night. She’d been with a few other people before, and had even been in a long-term relationship with someone she had once thought would end up being her husband, but none of those men came close to this peculiar stranger. 

In the town she was from, it was typical for people to marry their high school sweethearts. It was a small region where everyone either knew one another or knew of one another, so it wasn’t difficult to find someone that could fit into the role that needed to be filled. The person she had found was a boy by the name of Bradley, who she had begun to date their freshman year of high school. 

They’d met through mutual friends and he’d invited her to their first ever homecoming dance, where she had felt like everything was falling into place almost like in a movie. He was cute, with hazel eyes, sun-bleached hair, and freckles that jolted every time he laughed. He was polite, funny, and treated her with enough respect and dignity to keep her hooked for a while. Things had gone pretty well the four years they were together in high school; their relationship wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t exciting either. It was just...secure. He was there, and he was willing to give her his attention, and that’s all that really mattered to her at the time. She thought that was all she needed. 

Then graduation came and went, and so did Bradley. He left for college, set on the intention that they would make long distance work somehow. To keep a long story short, it hadn’t worked out how they expected. As the months passed, she noticed he started to separate himself from her more and more. The video chats are what disappeared first; what used to be a daily FaceTime call turned into a weekly one and then, if she was lucky, a monthly one. Phone calls followed the same fate. Texting became a chore rather than something to look forward to and she could feel him slipping, which left her feeling helpless because he was in another state, far away and too out of reach to appropriately solve anything. Energized conversations slowly faltered into five-word messages, which eventually teetered into barely any communication at all. 

When Y/N heard the news that he’d cheated on her, it didn’t even come from him. It came from his roommate. Things ended swiftly after that, which was the saddest thing of all. Almost five years of her life, completely gone to waste. Handling the pain was a whole other misery she’d had to shoulder, alongside the embarrassment and humiliation, which stemmed from the fact that she was aware her peers had heard about the whole ordeal. With the help of her family and friends, she’d eventually gotten over the heartbreak. The weird thing is, she doesn’t think she loved him. She loved the idea of him— loved that he represented everything she had been raised to seek in a relationship. They’d grown up together, their families knew one another, they shared the same friends, they had common hobbies. It was like a match made in heaven, though after it broke off, she quickly came to the realization that it hadn’t been made in heaven at all. Made in a test tube was a more fitting analogy. 

Y/N’s love life after that painfully slow cliche disaster consisted of random boys around town she recognized from school and work. The hook-ups were fleeting and hardly satisfying, but at least they were something. She soon found out that she could do better on her own, but whenever she craved someone else’s touch, she was grateful to have anyone she could get. She’d mainly stuck to the same guys for the sake of consistency; it was easier having people she already knew how to please and vice versa, though she’ll admit it was mostly a one way street. Men can be so clueless sometimes that it’d be funny if it wasn’t so irritating. 

Then Y/N had skipped town and closed off sexually for a while. She had stayed shut down until Harry had walked into her life with that stupid sly smirk and his unorthodox— yet surprisingly attractive—fashion sense, sipping straight tequila like a fucking psycho from the cup in his jeweled fingers. He’d waltzed right onto the stool beside her at the bar, right out of the club with her hand in his, and then right past the doorframe of her apartment, kindly gifting her the best sex of her entire life. He’d worked her every desire with a certain skill and awareness she had never experienced (not from any of her past lovers, and definitely not from Bradley’s vanilla tendencies), dismantling her body as if he’d known her for decades, leaving her sore and aching in a way she didn’t know was humanly possible.

And now here Y/N is, pacing back and forth from her small living room to her even smaller kitchen, chewing along the knuckle of her forefinger as she tries to tie down the jitters running amuck in her belly. 

She repeatedly smooths down the dress she’s wearing, claiming that it’s to get rid of the wrinkles, but in truth, it’s to wipe the dampness from her palms. The outfit had been a birthday present from her cousin the year before and she’s rarely worn it since the move, which is a direct result of her lack of socializing. She only ever really leaves her home for groceries and to attend work, neither of which call for a pretty sundress and strappy tan sandals. Despite having gone out to the club a few times, the dress doesn’t fit that scene either. LA gets a bit chilly at night and she has yet to grow accustomed to the city’s weather. Wearing this after-hours would surely end with her acquiring a mild case of hypothermia. 

The garment is a light blue baby doll design, littered with tiny daffodil prints of varying shapes and colors. It stops about three-fourths down her thigh, fluttering outwards in layered flares, its bandeau-style top held in place by thin straps of the same fabric. She figured she’d deck herself out nicely; from the one interaction she’d had with Harry, she can tell he’s a person of refined taste. It was evident in his expensive clothing and his wide variety of precious rings. She doesn’t know why, but there’s a toiling in the pit of her tummy urging to impress him. 

Y/N’s hair has been freshly washed and blow-dried, her legs thoroughly shaved into silk, and she’d applied a light layer of makeup, done in anticipation that anything heavier would likely end up smeared across her face— a result of sweat and Harry’s dominant persona. Simply reflecting on his commanding sensual presence makes her self-pedicured toes curl in her sandals. 

Y/N hadn’t been sure on how to prepare for his arrival. She wasn’t versed in advanced hook-up culture— her raunchiest experience was in the backseat of someone's 2004 Toyota Corolla. She doesn’t want to get this wrong. Going overboard would make him feel smothered and awkward, but underselling would give him the impression that she doesn’t have any respect for him, save for what lies between his legs. Those are the last two things she wants him to gather from this. 

She’d settled for pulling out a bottle of red wine that had been a house-warming present from the landlord. Not too shabby, but not too loud. And who doesn’t enjoy a cup of half-decent wine on a Friday evening, right?

Y/N had just finished arranging two glasses— which she’d found at the thrift shop down the street for a steal— onto the counter of her kitchen when that swift rapping sound had broken through the tense air of her home, echoing from the front door and causing a yelp to lodge in her throat. 

Ice shoots through her veins. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

She takes a handful of penetrating breaths, concentrating on how the cool air feels expanding her lungs. The technique aids in calming some of her nerves, grounding her just enough that she can will herself to move without her knees giving out. Y/N tentatively makes her way down the corridor that leads to her front door, heart hammering against her ribs. She shouldn’t be this riled up— he’s literally already been inside her. There’s pretty much nothing she can hide from him at this point. 

On the other side of the door, Harry is blissfully ignorant to the panic attack threatening to overcome Y/N. 

The vampire leans his shoulder against the frame of the somewhat raggedy door, arms crossed over his thick chest as his gaze bounces judgmentally around all the patches of peeling paint. He chews at a piece of gum— which he’d popped into his mouth on the drive over to make sure he tastes as delectable as always— in slow, lazy motions, jaw flexing as he unconsciously pops an array of tiny bubbles with his teeth, waiting for Y/N to emerge. 

Harry glances up at the flickering light bulb in the hallway of the complex, nose scrunching in distaste at the annoying flashing. She really needs to get a better place, he thinks, reaching up and dragging the pad of his middle finger along the curve of his bottom lip, absentmindedly wiping off a bit of extra chapstick that had colored outside the lines when he’d applied it. He always tries to keep his mouth soft, especially when he knows he’s going to be using it. Plus, the vanilla bean flavor pairs well with mint. 

The sound of a seal cracking open yanks his attention, the door before him slowly swinging inwards. Cool air pours from inside, bathing him in a scent that his frenzied instincts had been subconsciously craving the last couple of days. Harry cranes his neck over his shoulder, spitting his gum out and not bothering to watch where it lands. He turns back just as Y/N’s familiar figure comes into view.

The first thing he notices is the dress. 

Fuck, the dress. 

It’s nothing too fancy, just a casual sundress, but it fits her like it was made specifically for the purpose of testing his restraint. He rakes his gaze up and down her body shamelessly, much like he had on the night they met. 

The light blue background and rainbow miniature floral print compliments her skin tone nicely, making it stand out below the dingy light hanging above their heads. The piece lands about halfway down her thigh, fanning around her legs slightly in frilly folds, tempting him with that bit of innocent exposure. An image of him ripping the dress up her thighs races across the forefront of his mind and he can feel his fangs momentarily break through his gums.  

As Harry draws his sight upwards, the minimal throbbing between his legs only amplifies. The dress cinches just below her bust, accentuating her chest, and he comes to the painful realization that she’s not wearing a bra underneath; she doesn’t need it due to the bralette-like top. One simple tug of his index finger would leave her completely bare and that conclusion causes a sweltering itch to erupt along the back of his throat.

Harry’s irises finally come to rest on her face, finding that the rest of the human girl’s look appears just as it had last week. Minimal makeup, no accessories, and the smell of chamomile shampoo strung through her hair, though it’s easily smothered by her natural scent of flowers and sugar. He also finds that while he had been blatantly undressing her with his eyes, she had delighted herself in doing the same. Watching her gawk at him hungrily caresses his ego immensely, evident in how the edges of his mouth kink. 

Y/N doesn’t mean to ogle, she really doesn’t. But from the instant he’d come into view, standing there propped against her threshold with his ankles crossed and his lean arms folded over his strong chest, she couldn’t control it. He just looks so fucking good— better than last time, which she didn’t think was plausible— and she gets the feeling that he knows he looks borderline godly. 

Harry’s clad in what appears to be a sheer mesh flouncy button-up with holographic threads speckled through the material, shimmering under the dim atmosphere of the hallway. The last three holes of the shirt are left open, exposing his tanned pectorals and thoroughly inked chest. Last time they had been together, she’d been too distracted by the aching between her thighs to properly notice the swallow tattoos along his collarbones and the giant butterfly at the crest of his stomach. But now, she stares at them freely as they expand and contract with his easy breaths, her mouth beginning to water. 

The blouse is covered by a dark pinstriped blazer, the crisp shoulder blades of the jacket complimenting his broad frame as the curves dip along his waist alluringly. The loose top is tucked in along the brim of yet another pair of high-waisted trousers, though they are creme-colored instead of copper. The ironed pants give way to a pair of glossy black heeled boots, which are bedazzled along the back of the two-inch elevation, the jewels twinkling in the shape of a word that she can’t make out at this angle. 

Harry’s collection of luxurious rings and necklaces adorn their usual spots and she gets the impression that he never leaves home without them. His gold cross earring sways back and forth lightly, her warped reflection cast across its surface and staring back at her numbly. 

Harry breaks through the haze his physique had cast on her brain.

“Nice to see you again, Disco Ball.” 

A shiver slithers down her spine at the deep baritone of his voice, English accent slathered across every syllable and dripping with suggestive teasing. She’d forgotten how sultry he sounds, even when he’s not actively striving for it. 

Y/N’s attention jets up from where it had been pasted to his body, the expression across his handsome features one of snarky self-assurance, which tells her she’d been caught. Indents cave into his cheeks, twitching with glee as he bats his lashes slowly, eyes going half-lidded in amusement. He looks so sinful with those shiny ringlets curling around his small ears, framing his sharp jaw and kissing the nape of his neck, alongside those raspberry red lips and the emerald hue sparkling around his pupils. She can’t tear herself away.

After an elongated second of silence on her part, Harry raises one of his sculpted brows expectantly, letting her know he’s waiting for a response. Heat overflows Y/N’s cheeks and buzzes across the shells of her ears.

“H-Hi. Uh— Nice to see you. Too. Nice to see you, too.”

An odd sense of déjà vu flags in the back of her skull and she’s reminded that this is exactly how they’d met the first time around— with her making an utter fool of herself, much to his entertainment.

The crescent above his top lip curves upwards as a result of his grin widening. He taps the tip of his elegant shoe patiently against the cement ground, arms shifting against his chest and she can see the way his biceps strain the fabric of his coat. He’s just so fit.  

Harry’s tone comes out playful and lighthearted. He doesn’t need to be invited in again since she’s already explicitly allowed him in before, but he asks anyways, out of courtesy. “Can I come in? Or are you planning on taking me dancing or summat?”

The laugh that escapes Y/N is dense with a nervous edge, but it’s better than a stuttering jumble of incoherent words. She moves out of the way, flushing her back to the wall of the tiny entrance corridor and leaving just enough room for him to squeeze by. “Yes, come on in! Sorry.” 

“You’re alright, darling.” The tall vampire steps forward into the mortal’s home, turning sideways as he does so, chest pressing against her own. He glances down at her lips for a flash of a moment, then back to her eyes. “Thank you.”

Y/N’s grip on her doorknob tightens. She looks up at him through her lashes, bottom lip barely trembling. “No problem. Thanks for coming over on such short notice.” 

Harry runs his tongue across his teeth, pressing it to the inside of cheek as he absorbs the mildly erotic image of Y/N decked out in a frilly dress, glancing up at him shyly as her chest heaves slightly against his own. “Well, I couldn’t leave you to handle that pesky wood paneling all on your own, now could I?”

A smile ghosts over her delicate lips as she shuts the door and locks it, not breaking eye contact. “How generous of you. My hero.” 

Far from it, love.

Y/N slips out from where Harry had wedged her to the wall, beckoning him after her with a gentle turn of her head. The creature tucks his hands into his front pockets, following her down the narrow stretch. They drift past her room (he makes sure not to look in and spare himself the horror of seeing that dumb tapestry) and past her bathroom, into the expanse of her living area. It’s just as small and cozy as he remembers it and he can’t stop himself from scoffing lightly as his sight drifts over the couch. Good memories. 

“Would you like some wine?” Y/N’s question carries softly from inside her kitchen. She’s already gripping the glass bottle in her hand, attempting to pull out the cork, and she hadn’t thought of needing a wine-opener until now. Fuck. 

Harry makes his way to join her, passing underneath the archway and taking the spot across from the girl. He leans his lower back on the counter, hands remaining perched casually in his slacks. “I’d love some.”

“Great.” She huffs, twisting stubbornly at the spongy cap with all the might she can muster, the rough surface scratching her palm. “Let me just— just get this open.”

Harry’s head lists sideways as he wards off a chuckle. “Want some help?” 

Y/N releases an irritated grunt, shoulders slumping a tad as she fails to get the top loose. She holds out the bottle towards her visitor, titling it from side to side in surrender. “Be my guest.” 

The immortal pulls his hands out from his pockets, taking the container from her grasp and the human notices how they dwarf the bottle. It shouldn’t be hot, but it is. 

Harry wraps his ring-clad digits around the cork, giving it one easy twist and Y/N’s jaw nearly falls off as she hears a pop tinge the air. Harry offers her the wine and cap in return, licking his lips to avoid laughing in her face. Supernatural strength always delivers. 

“How…?” Y/N’s owlish eyes flicker back and forth between Harry’s cocky expression and the object in his hands. “How did you even...?”

The brunette gives her a nonchalant shrug. “Guess you loosened it up for me, Thor.” 

She gingerly takes the beverage and its accompaniment from his outstretched palms, blinking at him in mild shock. Her slight unease is swiftly phased out, however; a result of his cute banter. It was probably just a lucky coincidence. “I guess so.”

Y/N pours out two glasses of the dark red liquid, handing one to Harry, feeling her heart skip a beat when he wraps his hold around the stout flute and their fingers brush. He stays like that for a heartbeat, with his icy digits sifted between hers, the amber specks in his irises glittering like diamonds. Then, the moment is over and he pulls away slowly, guiding his drink up to his plush lips. She hates how he can leave her so breathless without a single hitch. 

The girl watches as Harry takes a leisurely sip of the alcohol, his gaze dancing around her kitchen curiously as she finishes recapping the bottle and scooting it into the corner of the counter. 

A thought dawns on her as soon as she focuses back onto the boy before her. Harry looks weird. He looks so weird standing in her small, dingy kitchen with its worn wooden cabinets and fake marble tabletop. He looks so out of place, dressed head to toe in designer brands and fancy fabrics, hands and neck decorated with posh jewelry, and the unmistakable smell of an expensive cologne wafting from his masculine throat. And he most certainly is out of place when it comes to who he’s associating with. He’s out of Y/N’s league, not only physically, but in his behaviors, as well. It’s so obvious it almost hurts. 

Yet here Harry is, looking polished and stylish, while she’s sporting a mere sundress that was probably bought off the clearance rack at Kohl’s. It just doesn’t mix, and she finds herself wondering why he’d chosen her in the first place. When she had voiced similar concerns the day they’d slept together, he had told her it was because she was timid and he wanted to see if he could break through that. But Y/N isn’t stupid. There has to be some other reason. Why else would a rich bachelor pay attention to a small-town runaway in a measly floral—

“I like your dress.”

Y/N glances up at Harry from where her mind had fallen, startled by the sudden interference in her dark thoughts. She’d been tracing across the slope of his structured jaw, mesmerized by how it would grow taut every time he swallowed down a gulp of his beverage. 

She had ambled so deep in her head, she barely manages to mutter a passable answer. “Oh, thank you! I’ve had it for a bit, but I barely wear it.”

The edges of the vampire’s mouth quirk around the rim of his glass, creases wrinkling along the corners of his bright eyes. “It suits you nicely. A beautiful dress on a beautiful girl.” 

Y/N’s belly somersaults, a sheepish giggle running along the undercurrent of her next mumble, so low it’s hardly audible. “Thank you. Again. Thought I’d bring it out for a special occasion.” 

Harry’s eyebrows jump upwards at her comment. He draws his wine glass from between his lips, resting it against his hard stomach and gifting the human a cheeky once-over. “So I’m a special occasion, now, am I?”

Y/N looks down at the straps of her sandals, fighting off a grin. She shrugs one shoulder offhandedly, bringing her cup to her mouth and taking a long drag of the sweet liquor, feeling it wash across her tongue and leave a warm glow in her tummy. “Maybe.” 

Harry hums teasingly in his throat, tapping his pinky pensively along the bottom of his glass, opal ring clinking against the crystalline surface. The color of his drink makes the black polish on his nails stand out almost artistically. “I’ll take any compliment I can get, especially from those pretty lips.”

Another wave of heat flushes across the apples of Y/N’s cheeks. “You really know how to flatter a girl, don’t you?”

The monster tips back another swig of wine, savoring the notes of wild cherry and pomegranate in its palate. Not bad, especially for what he can tell is a ten dollar bottle. 

He cocks his head to the side, irises glitzing knowingly amidst his long lashes. “I think we’re both aware that I most certainly know how to flatter a girl.” 

Y/N’s stare snaps up to lock with his, the faintest whimper stringing her vocal chords. If it wasn’t for Harry’s heightened hearing, he would have never known it’d happened. But he does, and he can feel the throb between his thighs spike as a result. The sounds she makes are just as wonderful as he remembers.

The sexual tension suspending in the room is practically palpable. After a bundle of her heartbeats— which is gradually rising in intensity— echo in his ears, he decides to speak up again. 

“I’ve been thinking about you.” 

The statement can be taken into so many different contexts and that’s why Harry chose it. She could interpret it as innocent admiration on behalf of a smitten lover, or as another layer of sensual praise. It’s versatile, successful either way. 

Y/N blinks at him exactly three times in surprise. “You have?”

She’d been thinking about him, too. Non-stop. And now that she knows it’s mutual, she doesn’t feel so nervous anymore. It reassures her that they’re on the same page of this messy novel written about their undefined association. Or that they are at least within the same chapter.  

Harry bobs his head in confirmation, indulging another sip of wine, letting it filter through his taste buds slowly. His glass is almost empty. “Mmhm. Walked past this candle store at the mall the other day and they had one burning that smelled just like you.”

His confession is sweet and it makes the tips of her fingers tingle. Y/N copies his action, taking another gulp of her beverage, attitude airy and inquisitive. “Is that so? And what do I smell like?”

Harry’s response is immediate and confident, almost as if he’s spent time thinking on the subject prior to today. “Honey and lavender.” 

Y/N nods her head in wonder, laughing gently. “That’s oddly specific.” 

Harry feels like he’s been smacked between the eyes with an iron rod. That was an idiot move. Absolutely moronic. 

He just now comes to terms with how intimate the comment he’d made had been. It suggests that he’s pondered on this topic, which gives the impression that he could be more interested in her than he actually is. He doesn’t need this loose connection turning into some type of cliche romantic comedy; he doesn’t have the space, patience, or emotional stability for it. And certainly not with someone he’s only fucked once. 

The vampire clears his throat, figuring that he can clean up this metaphorical spill by throwing a bit of crudeness at it. “Then yesterday I had a donut, yeah? One of those cream-filled ones. And when I took a bite of it, all the cream just came oozing out and I was like, ‘hm, this reminds me of someone…’”

The slightly endeared expression on Y/N’s face crumbles to dust, voice shrill and indignant at his lewd analogy. “You fucking perv!” 

Harry sputters into a round of boyish cackling, nearly wheezing when her foot reaches over and strikes him on the shin. He clasps over his stomach with his free hand, head falling back in glee as her features pinch in embarrassed disgust. He manages to speak between bursts of giggles, water gathering along his tear ducts due to how hard he’s laughing. “I’m just being honest!”  

“No, you’re being a gross little fourteen year old asshole!” Y/N exclaims incredulously, but she can’t keep herself from joining in on his boasts of amusement. 

His laughter is contagious. It’s loud and unapologetic in a manner she rarely sees in anyone and he just looks really fucking cute with his dimples jolting and smile lines creasing. It’s hard to stay mad at him, though it’s not like she’d truly been upset in the first place. 

Harry reigns himself in, inhaling deep breaths and wiping at his tears with the back of his large hand as a joyful groan rumbles in his chest. A few more giggles sneak out when he sees Y/N’s flat expression, but he manages to stifle the rest. His tone is jesting, poking fun. “If it makes you feel any better, I was respectful enough to wipe the donut down with a napkin, as well.” 

“Fuck off.”

Harry grins down snidely at the last inch or so of alcohol left in his glass, bringing it to his mouth and downing it all in one go. He places the cup down carefully on the counter behind him, his arms finding their way across his stomach, fingertips momentarily tapping at his elbows. He appraises a playfully grouchy Y/N, pursing his lips to hide a smirk. 

He watches as she takes another small taste from her drink, her pulse lulled by its contents. She’s not drunk by any means— not even buzzed— but it had helped calm the tittering in her throat that Harry had been able to detect earlier. She’s relaxed now, all anxiousness washed away by the small serving of liquor and his inappropriate (and extremely funny, if he does say so himself) jokes. 

The creature thinks it’s proper time he gets what he came for. 

“I really am glad you reached out, though.” Harry starts, an easygoing smile nudging across his alcohol-swollen mouth. “Truly.” 

Y/N snorts sarcastically, attempting to hide how his comment had made her pulse sharpen. He’d heard it anyways. “Oh, are you? Truly?”

Harry pushes himself off the edge of the counter, slowly sauntering over to Y/N, who instinctively draws back further against the tabletop behind her. She ogles at him from below heavy lashes, glass still perched between her tinted lips, excited anticipation written all over her body language. He can practically feel the heat radiating off her, rising a few notches the closer he gets. 

“Yeah.” Harry’s arms unfold, one stretching over her shoulder to prop his palm against the cupboard behind her head, the other fiddling with the seam of his blazer. He slides his forefinger and thumb along the single buttoned hole, giving it a rough tug and allowing his jacket to spring open. “I don’t think I’ve ever had that much fun interior designing with anyone. Not for a while.” 

Y/N glimpses down at where his coat had parted, drinking up the sight of his lean torso behind the see-through material of his shirt. Now that he’s nearly pressed against her, his scent is stronger than before, burying her under smoky notes of vanilla and seasoned firewood. A familiar heat pools between her clasped thighs. 

When she pipes up, it’s shaky and whispered, covered in a dreamy undercurrent. “Yeah, me either. It felt...nice.”

Harry’s irises flash crimson for a millisecond, but she’s too occupied gawking at his tight stomach to notice. His dialect takes on a low, seductive twang, the breath of his words fanning across her face. All she can smell is wine, mint, and...vanilla chapstick? 

“It felt really nice.” 

Y/N’s view drags up to land on his lips. They look as soft and appetizing as last time, tempting her to just drop her flute onto the floor and replace it with his mouth. “Extremely nice.” 

An outside force suddenly tips her glass upwards and she realizes it’s Harry’s fingers. He nudges her cup until the liquid inside funnels towards her mouth, his intentions set on helping her finish it off. She drains the wine obediently, staring up at him dazed and moony, feeling a few drops escape along the sides of her mouth and tickle down her chin. The jade-eyed boy then gently pries the glass from her fingertips, reaching over and placing it inside her sink to be handled later. 

Y/N’s hands fall flat against his thick chest, feeling it rise and fall steadily below her grasp as he takes a step forward, their bodies completely flushing together. His palm trails up the exposed sliver of her thigh, diving a couple of inches below her dress and giving the outer area a hard squeeze. He doesn’t go any further; he won’t until she explicitly asks for it. He’s a prick about a lot of things, but never consent.

Harry leans down, running the tip of his cold nose along her clenched jaw, his warm tongue peeking out to collect the streams of wine that had dripped out. The contrast in sensations makes her knees buckle and what he murmurs hotly against her skin doesn’t help in calming those motions at all.

“Wouldn’t mind making you feel that nice again.” 

Y/N’s mind stalls, overwhelmed by his touch and smell. She can feel him sponging tender kisses at the corner of her mouth, and she can feel the palm of his hand massaging at her thigh needily. She can feel his breaths quickening in pace the longer he’s around her, and she can feel the foundation of a moan building in his lungs in the form of small vibrations, which run across her palms and twitch her fingers. She can feel everything; she’s never been more hyper-aware of her surroundings than now. And all because of this one mysterious young man. 

When Y/N finally speaks, Harry feels relief flood his system, though it is swiftly replaced by intense desire. 

“I wouldn’t mind it, either.” 

That’s full permission if he’s ever heard it. 

Harry’s other hand drops from its spot against the cupboard behind her, joining its partner on her opposite thigh. He coasts his palms fully below her flowy dress onto her hips, a lascivious simper crawling across his cheeks at the lack of extra fabric beneath her clothes. “No panties tonight?”

The human swallows heavily, shaking her head as she leans it back against the wooden cabinets, giving him access to her throat. At the sight, the vampire’s fangs protrude, cutting into the inside of his lower lip as venom fills his mouth. He wills himself to maintain control. It’s difficult, considering his sharp eyes can make out the chiseling of her arteries pumping blood just beneath her delicate skin, but he forces composure into his behavior nonetheless. With all of the lights on and Y/N completely sober, he knows he won’t get away with another mid-fuck stunt like the one he pulled last time they were in this position. 

Instead, he distracts himself with what he can draw from her at this very moment— another unbelievable orgasm. 

“Such a filthy little fucking thing.” Harry growls, smearing his lips down the center of her jugular, nipping love bites into her flesh but making sure not to split it open. “S’that how bad you wanted it when you texted me? So bad that you didn’t even bother to wear anything underneath?”

Y/N whines softly when he passes over a particularly tender spot along her neck, shuttering against his chest. “Y-Yes.” 

A low chuckle rolls from Harry’s wandering tongue as he hones in on the area that had coaxed such a delicious reaction. “Fuck, that was such a pretty noise. Are you sensitive here, baby?”

Y/N nods with fervor, running her touch up his pectorals and over his strong shoulders, diving under his coat and fisting at the mesh that strains across his muscular back. Her eyes roll closed, her next confession coming out in the form of a feathery sigh, legs parting wider for him to comfortably fit in between. “I just...I just need you.”

Harry eagerly accepts the invitation, sifting between her thighs and hiking them up onto his hips. The fact that he can suspend her so effortlessly, almost as if she weighs nothing, makes the pit of her tummy boil. “You need me now, d’you? How much, doll? Want you to tell me how much you missed my cock.” 

The young woman winces ever so slightly at the crude word and it amuses him to no end. “So fucking much, Harry.” 

He can confidently say his name has never sounded sweeter than when it trickles from Y/N’s tongue. 

When he speaks, it’s packed with all the pent up turmoil radiating deep in his abdomen. “Did you think about me the way I thought about you?”

Y/N’s reply falls breathily from her mouth without any hesitation. “Y-Yeah. Couldn’t get you out of my head.”

A cocky hum tinges the air on his behalf. “And why’s that?”

“Because…” The girl struggles to swallow, finding it difficult to match how easily brazen he can be. She pushes through. “Because you fucked me better than anyone else ever has.” 

The compliment is one Harry gets often, but for some inexplicable reason, it hits so much deeper coming from Y/N. “Mm. Poor baby just needed to get properly rawed, didn’t you?”

“Had no idea how badly I wanted it until you came along.” 

A dark chuckle rolls from the creature’s lips at her bluntness. He repeatedly passes his textured tongue over the pressure point on her throat, flames igniting in his chest when she releases another watery, desperate mewl. “God, look at you. Practically already dripping. Like it when I play with you like that?”

“Fuck, y-yes.”

“Want me to keep going?”

“Please.”

And so Harry keeps going, and he doesn’t stop. Not at her neck, and not anywhere else. Not until she begs him to hours later, when he’s whittled three orgasms out of her trembling body, each one more intense than the last. 

The first one takes place right there on top of the kitchen counter. He boosts her up onto the table, bunching her pretty sundress around her quivering thighs— as he’d fantasized prior— while she fumbles with his trousers. He tends to her every breathy whimper as she eases him out of his briefs, marking his teeth all over her throat with the assurance that his blood will fade the bruises by morning. He tears his jacket down his broad shoulders, panting into her mouth as she undoes all the buttons that line his elegant iridescent shirt, moaning softly when she breaks their kiss to paint her hot lips down the expanse of his heaving chest and tight stomach. Y/N ducks down as far as her angle will allow, wanting to taste as much of his skin as she can. She wants to memorize its salty smoothness for as long as she lives. 

Harry watches her with bliss-drunken fondness twitching his mouth, head falling back to hang between his shoulders as a low, “Such a good girl.” rumbles from his throat. His ring-clad fingers tangle into her locks and scratch at her scalp lightly, strained exhales encouraging her to keep going as she delights herself with tainting love bites all over him. He yanks the girl back up by her roots, grabbing her hips and roughly scooting her forward towards him, clammy foreheads pressing together as he fixes to fill her up for the first time in what feels like eternity. 

The monster’s voice is as dominant and thick as she likes it. “Eyes up here. Want to see you come undone while I fuck you.” 

The way he spreads Y/N open makes her choke out a scream like nothing else she’s ever heard. Harry simply clamps one of his palms over her mouth, continuing to ram into her at a harsh stride, gasping against her ear with every thrust as she rakes her nails across his back. “Gotta keep that pretty mouth quiet. Thin walls.” 

The human feels like her heart is going to break through her ribs and what she doesn’t know is that with every passing beat, Harry feels it tenfold. And it’s driving him fucking insane— she drives him fucking insane. Especially when she looks at him with that glossy, begging gaze, biting into the mound of his hand as he slams his hips inside her so hard, the glasses in her cupboard shake. “Like it when I give it to you rough? Yeah, I thought so. Just like that? Harder? Say please…Christ, you’re a fucking angel.”

Y/N is dirty. So fucking filthy, and Harry loves every second of it. Loves that anything he throws out, she returns with as much enthusiasm, if not more. Loves that she can take his cock as hard as he’s willing to give it, which says a lot, considering his stamina and strength usually surpasses most humans. He’d met very few mortals who can match his sexual prowess and she happens to be one of them. She not only takes it, but pleads for more. She doesn’t just seek her own pleasure, but insists on delivering his own. And though they’re polars opposites at their core— she’s timid, physically standard, and boringly normal, whereas he’s confident, attractive, and unusually superior in every sense of the phrase— they fit together better than he’d ever care to admit. They’re perfectly compatible, down to their personalities and their intimate needs. 

As Harry stands there— fingertips leaving welts across her waist as he grunts brokenly against her throat, stretching her out like she was meant to take him this deep, her moans sounding like classical melodies to his ears— he thinks that maybe...maybe he’ll keep her around. A friends with benefits situation would be the most ideal. And to quote his own clever motto from before, it would be mutualism at its finest. 

The alliance would be nothing emotional; simply for the sake of providing each other with requited relief, as well as providing Harry with a convenient feeding arrangement. Neither of them would have to submit themselves to going to those terrible clubs, they both already know what the other enjoys, and the banter they share is pretty fulfilling. Plus, her blood is one of the sweetest he’s ever had. Whatever magic lies in her veins tides over his cravings in a fashion he’s never quite experienced. They both get what they want and don’t have to deal with the disasters of real commitment; neither are in a place in their lives where they can shoulder such a big responsibility. Harry is emotionally unavailable, as he has been for the past two centuries and as he intends to be for the next dozen. Y/N has just started anew in a place where she has so little to give and so much to lose, dating is the last thing on her mind. A casual no-strings-attached arrangement would be a perfect gift, bow and all.

And with the way they make each other cum multiple times that night— once on the counter, and twice on that trusty old couch— there’s not a single doubt in Harry’s mind that this is most definitely mutualism at its peak. 

///

During the span of the next few weeks, Harry learns a lot about Y/N. It’s surprising how informational someone’s sex habits can be. 

The second week after they had met— and the first since their second very heated, very satisfying encounter— she shoots him a text on Wednesday, of all days. 

Harry isn’t doing anything particularly interesting when he receives her message. He had gone to see Mitch play at the bar that had recently booked him as a semi-permanent gig, sitting in the booth furthest in the back from all of the ruckus, fingers tapping along the waxed table to his best friend’s skilled jazzy guitar chords. Mitch always teases Harry about how he doesn’t have a job, which the vampire always waves off. Working for money is stupid and unnecessary; any materialistic wants and needs that plague him, he can get with the help of compulsion. Therefore, what’s the use in condemning himself the horrors of customer service or a constricting office cubicle? 

His best friend is halfway through his set when Harry’s device vibrates against the sticky surface before him, tittering fingers coming to an abrupt stop. He flips over his iPhone, eyes flickering over the screen, a coy grin spreading its way across his blushed lips. Y/N’s contact beams up at him in return. He’d set her profile as just her name alongside three disco ball emojis, for the sake of their little inside joke. 

I’m getting off work a bit earlier than I thought today and was wondering if you wanted to help me with my ceiling fan.

Harry bites into his bottom lip to muffle a chuckle, shaking his head lightly as he stares down at the comical request. 

That’s odd. Last time I was there, you didn’t HAVE a ceiling fan.

Y/N sits on her lunch break in the backroom of the cafe where she’s employed, a veggie wrap halfway suspended towards her mouth when Harry’s text bloops in, pointing out her embarrassing mistake. She blinks at his correction blankly, eyes closing in faint humiliation as her true intentions are now painfully clear. 

After a second of recollection, she types back some damage control, though it hardly has an impact. Harry’s already chortling to himself just thinking about how contorted her face must look at the moment.

I’m aware, thank you. I meant I wanted help picking one out. I’ve got a few tabs saved as potentials. 

He decides to be a little shit about this whole thing, continuing to mock her.

You could just send me the links right now and I can tell you which one I like. You know that, right?

Y/N knows that. She also knows, by the tone and texture of his response, he’d only mentioned that alternative to be annoying. He knows she’s not talking about ceiling fans, and he just wants her to chase after him. Unfortunately enough for Y/N’s pride, she’s more than willing to.  

I just think your opinion would be much more valuable and effective in person, since you’d be able to help me search for other ones at the same time. We’d cover more ground. Two heads are better than one!

We do make quite the team, don’t we?

I personally think so. A dynamic duo for the books, honestly.

A soft round of applause cuts through the air around the vampire, signaling the end of Mitch’s performance. Harry glances up to see his best friend mounting his guitar back into its case, smiling bashfully at the crowd and nodding his head in thanks to all their praise. Harry coins his luck; things couldn’t have wrapped up at a better time. 

Alright, Watson. What time will you be home?

Y/N stops mid-chew through a bite of her meal, cheeks puffed as the corners of her mouth twitch at his nerdy reference.

I’m off at 6:45. Should be home by 7. 

I’ll see you there, then. 

See you there. Also, why do YOU get to be Sherlock? Seems a bit sexist. 

Harry rolls his eyes at her quip, smirking to himself as he types out his final response.

Well, first and foremost, I’m literally English. Secondly, last time I checked, I’m always the one in control. And frankly, you seem to like it that way. See you at seven, darling.

And at seven on the dot, Harry’s outside her apartment. His friends would be amazed at his punctuality. He only shows it when it’s worth the trouble.

The creature walks up the steps to the mortal’s complex with his Ray-Ban sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, keychain tucked into the back pocket of his black skinny jeans, and his tan Chelsea boots clicking against the cement ground. A light wind whips his Keith Harrington Safe Sex t-shirt against the broad muscles of his back, drawing a soothed sigh from his lungs. He loves the California weather. 

He gives her door three swift knocks with his ring-clad knuckles, stepping back from the entrance and clasping his large hands behind his back as he waits. 

When Y/N answers, Harry tilts his chin down a smidge, looking at her over the brim of his chic black glasses with his signature dazzling smile dimpling his cheeks. He lists his head slightly in a formal greeting. “Detective.” 

The girl’s irises flit up to the ceiling as amusement twitches her lips. She plays along. “Nice to see you again. Detective.”

She moves off to the side, beckoning him to come in and he gladly takes the offer, striding into the flat and down the narrow corridor he’s grown quite familiar with. Y/N follows him back into her living room, gaze quickly drinking up his appearance. He’s casual today— less jewelry, more comfortable clothes— and he works the normal fit as effortlessly as he works his fancy brands. Especially with those tight dark jeans. They hug his thighs in a fashion that should be illegal. 

Harry twists around on his heel to face her, reaching up to remove his sunglasses and tucking them along the collar of his tee. A handful of curls fall across his forehead, framing his face and sculpting his jaw, as usual. A sweep across Y/N’s physique tells him everything he needs to know. 

She’s still in her work clothes, clad in a navy blue polo shirt and a pair of dark skinnies similar to his. Her hair is down, though the strands have a dent that suggests she’d been wearing a ponytail. Her mascara is smudged a tad under her seemingly tired eyes, but her attitude is as bright and lively as always. She appears messy, but he likes it. It’s a type of unconventional beauty that’s natural and genuine, which he can appreciate.

He contemplates her with a certain slyness that makes her shift in her socked feet. 

“I got a message earlier. Sounded kinda frantic.” He drifts closer to the human, a sultry tension growing taut between them. He glances upward for an instant, as if recalling a thought. “Something about ceiling fans…?”  

Y/N chews into her cheek to keep from giggling, allowing him to press his chest to hers. He slowly begins to back her up towards the shabby couch, which has seen this interaction happen one too many times. “Yeah, I’m thinking of getting one. Figured it’d help. It just gets really hot in here sometimes, y’know?”

“Mmm…” Harry thrums in agreement, deep in the back of his throat. His hands crawl onto her hips and grasps them somewhat roughly, index fingers hooking into the belt loops of her jeans as he leans down to brush his soft lips over her own. She’ll never grow tired of the electricity that passes through them every time their mouths touch. It kindles her needs unlike anything else. “It does get pretty hot in here sometimes. Especially if you’re working up a sweat.” 

He pushes her further towards the sofa, movements gradual as she drifts backwards, careful not to trip her. She glimpses down at where their lips are flirting, breath hiccuping when he licks his lightly in anticipation, his tongue just barely grazing her Cupid’s bow. “Absolutely. A fan would definitely help relieve some of that stress.” 

“Yeah.” Harry nudges the tip of her nose with his own, feeling her grab at his biceps for security as he continues inching her backwards blindly. “It can work wonders for when you’re all pent up, too. Especially when you’re really tight, which I know for a fact you are.”

The backs of the girl’s knees hit the edge of the couch and she topples into its cushions. She sits up onto her elbows, sheer need inking into her irises as he patiently begins to undo his belt. His long, nimble fingers work with ease and he seems to be in no particular rush, which pricks at her nerves because she feels completely the opposite. She’d been thinking about him since Friday night— or rather, Saturday morning, when he had actually stayed for breakfast that time around. 

Y/N had sat on top of her small dining table while he took the seat before her shirtless, leaning forward with his arms crossed nonchalantly over her lap as she fed him bites of lemon blueberry pancakes. The pads of his calloused fingers had drawn random shapes across the warm skin of her thighs, attempting to cheekily slip beneath her pajamas shorts and he’d giggle boyishly around mouthfuls of food every time she would swat his hand away. He looked so fucking pretty that morning, with his curls tangled in tuffs and the vague imprint of her teeth scattered across his grinning mouth, angry red scratches decorating his bare shoulders. That wholesome yet dirty image had left her head spinning for days. 

The sound of Harry’s zipper ripping open blinks Y/N back into the present and she nearly gawks as he grabs onto the hem of his graphic t-shirt and yanks it over his head, arms crossing as he does so. He tosses it onto her playfully, laughing as she smacks it away from her face and gives him a deadpan look. Harry leans forward, propping his palms on either sides of her head and bracketing her in, the unmissable scent of his delicious cologne invading her senses as his dark tattoos ripple over the lean tendons of his stomach and arms. His strangely cold forehead flushes against hers and he nips at her top lip, tugging it between his teeth and releasing. His voice comes out as deep and hypnotizing as ever. 

“Get undressed for me. Want your thighs wrapped around my head.” 

Harry comes to find that for such a reserved girl, Y/N has a pretty intriguing sexual mindset. She’s open to a lot of stuff he’d never expect from a rural-town escapee. Her kinks surprise him, but pleasantly so, considering they cross over with a lot of his own. She’s into choking, which he adores. There’s nothing hotter than feeling her pulse slam against the palm of his hand as his array of rings mark into the delicate skin of her throat. She likes being restrained, which translates into Harry pinning her wrists above her head while he slams between her drenched thighs. It’s difficult to achieve that on the sofa, so they end up rolling across the rug on the floor, her legs tangled around his hips like a vine as he pants into her mouth, damp hair flopping over his forehead and tickling her eyelashes. Ideally, he would have used his belt to tie her hands to a headboard. If they were at his place, he would’ve just reached for the metal cuffs he has hanging casually off the railing of his bed, which he keeps there for easy access. But they’re in her living room, so he makes do with what he can. 

The vampire doesn’t stay over that night, not because he doesn’t want to, but because he promised Niall he’d help him out with a car issue. Apparently the motor is making a weird noise and Harry isn’t shocked one bit. Niall barely has the brain cells to be alive, much less to handle the upkeep that comes with owning a vintage vehicle. He thanks Y/N for a good time as he slips into his tight jeans and recovers his sunglasses from the floor, pulling his tee over the already fading hickies littering his collarbones, fitting his accessory into his sweaty curls. 

Harry leans down to where she lays limply, splayed over the couch where he had placed her after picking her up off the ground (only after he’d made her cum twice). He plants a nonchalant farewell kiss to her parted lips, thumbing over her bruised nipples jestingly and grinning into her mouth when she whimpers. “I’ll see you later, Watson. Let me know which fan you decide to buy.” 

Two days later, Harry’s phone chimes again, this time with the unique ringtone he’d assigned just for her. 

He’s relaxing in his bathtub, submerged up to his chest in hot water mixed with Epsom salts and jasmine bubble bath, his locks sudsy with shampoo. He’s in the middle of shaving his face, dragging the straight razor (his time in the nineteen thirties made him picky towards any other tool, especially those simpleton plastic ones) down his jaw carefully, making sure not to nick the little moles under the corner of his mouth. When his device goes off, he halts all his motions, glancing over from the hand mirror he’s holding before his face. He’d changed her contact name to Watson as homage to their funny little dynamic, but he’d kept the disco balls in their place. He respects the roots of their acquaintanceship.

Fan came in. Wanna come check it out?

He had a nagging suspicion he’d hear from her today. It’s another Friday night, after all. He’s just happy she’d texted earlier than last time so he can flake on his friends without forcing them to wait for an hour. 

Wow, you chose two day shipping? You must be itching to see me.

Don’t let it go to your head. The only thing I’m itching for is your professional opinion. 

Right. Well, me and my professional opinion are washing up at the moment so give me thirty minutes and I’ll be there, yeah?

Sounds good to me, Sherlock. 

Harry decides on an outfit that falls at the center of his dressing spectrum— something comfortable but not lazy. Something semi-formal. He doesn’t really have to impress her anymore (not that he had to try that hard in the first place) but he wants to look good, either way. There’s nothing wrong with showing off what he has, both physically and wardrobe-wise. He chooses a horizontal-striped fitted tee made of thick cotton, the lines alternating between brown, beige, and a light caramel. He tucks the shirt into a pair of mid-rise corduroy flared pants that are a dark mustard shade, shrugging on an olive green jacket with red and white stitch detailing along the edges, large images of cacti embroidered along its expanse. His pearls, cross necklace, and he opts out of his earring this time. Rings, vanilla chapstick, mint gum. Keys, wallet, starch white Vans. 

Before he knows it, he’s being roughly pulled into her home from his spot just outside her threshold, his cherry-lacquer nails carding into the silky hair along the nape of Y/N’s neck as his teeth skim over the hollow of her throat. The human grapples to push his coat off his wide shoulders, backing further down the small hallway of her flat and kicking the door shut. She holds his head firmly to the sensitive spot in her neck that he’d toyed with a week prior, and he can’t resist the way his eyes blink crimson— a hunting impulse, stemming from the sound of her blood rushing through her carotid artery. He hadn’t fed last time— vampires only need to feed once a week to avoid desiccation— so he surely intends to tonight. 

Harry’s hands fit perfectly around the dip of her spine, pulling her body tight to his as he paints sloppy kisses over her jugular. He gets his teasing words out in between desperate gasps and breathy chuckles. “And here I thought this was genuinely going to be about the fan.”

“Shut up.” 

Y/N makes a sharp turn, tugging him into her room instead of the living room and it dawns on him that this is the first time they’re going to fuck in her actual bed. All those instances of sleeping together and not once had they done anything on the piece of furniture that was intended for that sole purpose. It’s ironically hilarious and he voices that opinion as they stumble onto her mattress. 

“You know,” Harry murmurs into her mouth as she shoves him flat onto the rumpled sheets (she hadn’t made her bed this morning and that’s endearing, for some reason), straddling his lap as she hurriedly pulls his t-shirt out from along the waistband of his trousers. “Out of all the times we’ve done this— which is quite a few— we’ve never done anything on your bed other than sleep.” 

That’s a lie. He’s never actually slept in her bed. After staring at the ceiling blankly two weeks ago for about eight hours, he had been smart enough to grab his phone from his pants the second time around. He spent that stretch of time playing Mario Kart and watching Unsolved Mysteries on Netflix with the volume down just out of human earshot, so as to not disturb her slumber. 

Y/N ducks in order to drag her wet, pillowy lips down the butterfly inking on his tummy and over the spines of the two ferns on his pelvis, licking across his happy trail. He jerks in response, a soft grunt gurgling in his lungs as she uses her index finger to trace the outline of his hardening cock through the velvet fabric of his slacks. Her voice is distant, giggle breathless. “Yeah, you’re right. How counterintuitive.”

Harry swiftly pops the button of his trousers, helping her coax them down his legs, releasing a stuttery moan when she immediately bends down and mouths at his prick over his briefs. The soiled stain forming around the tip of his cock would be embarrassing if he didn’t know she found it hot. 

His tone is tight but humorous as she continues licking at him eagerly through his underwear, nails digging into his inner thighs. “Am I your first?”

Confusion flickers in her eyes for a moment before she realizes the joke. He’s referring to if he’s the first person she’s slept with on her new bed in her new home. “Yes, you are, actually.” 

Harry’s juts his bottom lip out into an overly-sweet exaggerated pout, talking in a honeyed drawl. “Aw, I get to christen your bed with you? We’re practically married now. When’s the baby due?” 

“God, you’re a moron.” Y/N bursts into a fit of laughter as she mounts back onto his lap, pinching at his torso in fake spite and feeling her insides flutter at the airy giggles that escape him. She gnaws on her bottom lip thoughtfully for a second, watching with hunger as he finishes removing his shirt and momentarily sits up to chuck it onto the ground over her shoulder. 

Harry falls back onto the mattress, folding his taut arms behind his neck, biceps flexing with the movements as his strong chest and toned stomach look as appealing as ever. She runs her palms over his tanned skin, feeling the sturdy muscle shift beneath her touch. Shit.

The immortal slinks his head to the side, eyes going half-lidded in suggestive mischief as he sees the way she’s objectifying him. He doesn’t mind; he actually lives for it. “Are you just gonna keep staring or are you gonna fuck me?”

His lewd comment washes warmth across Y/N’s ears and spurs her into action. In less than a minute, she’s fully unclothed, bouncing on his cock with a type of need that boils the pit of Harry’s belly. His fingers are digging bruises into her waist, slamming her down onto his prick with enough force to make the old bed creak wildly. She may be on top, but he’s still the one pulling the strings. 

Y/N collapses forward, anchoring herself onto her forearms on either sides of his head, burying her face in his auburn ringlets. She bites onto her tongue, trying to keep a tab on the atrociously loud sounds threatening to spill from her mouth. They come out as broken whines instead, which Harry drinks up like a glass of aged bourbon. She fists at his roots, jolting with every thrust he gives upwards, her knees digging into his love handles to keep balanced. At this point, she’s barely riding him at all. He’s just ramming himself into her from below as he guides her hips and she doesn’t have an issue with that at all. She likes when he leads.  

His growl comes out low and raspy, riding on a moan, his warm, choppy exhales pebbling her bare nipples. “How’s that, darling? How’s that cock feel?”

Y/N nods her head frantically, not trusting her tongue to form an appropriate response. 

“Tell me.” He grits out through bared teeth, back arching a bit as he feels the knot of white hot pleasure in his stomach twist and turn. 

“I— I can’t. I’m—”

One of Harry’s hands coasts down the small of her back and onto her ass, giving it a harsh squeeze. She yelps at the new sensation, pain and bliss intermingling. “Yeah, you fucking can. You will. Use your words. Tell me how much you like it.”

A violent shutter runs through Y/N’s limbs and she instinctively pushes back against his palm. Harry’s eyebrows kink in question as he feels her draw her face back from his hair. One look at her eyes tells the entire narrative: She wants him to spank her. 

Harry slowly lifts his hand from her skin, brows raising a bit higher for confirmation. Y/N smears his lips against his forehead and left cheekbone, bobbing her head desperately, whispering a tiny, “Yes, please.” that sends smoky tendrils of hot air cascading down his straining neck. 

When the vampire’s hand comes down, it’s fast and hard, his cold rings biting into her flesh and leaving welts, the sound echoing off the glossy walls and tall bookshelf in her room. The cry that betrays her could probably be heard down on the main floor of her complex. 

The shattered noise makes Harry sanity slip and he’s lucky she’s too lost in her own bliss to see the way his eyes glow dangerously red. “Fuck, you’re such a slut for it.” 

Harry suddenly boosts himself forward, toppling Y/N backwards until she’s the one wedged against the bed. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, nestling her face into the crook of his sweaty collarbones, cracked cries pooling into the junction of his clavicle as he hikes her roughly up his thighs. He sinks further between her legs until he bottoms out with a loud garbled groan, pushing so deep she can feel him in the trench of her belly. 

“Oh my God, Harry— I— fuck, just—just— oh!”

His pace rises in intensity, strokes messy and unforgivable as he fucks her into the bed, the cracking of the frame warning him that it might give away. “Oh, so you liked that, did you? Like it when I call you a slut and stretch you out like one?”

Harry feels Y/N’s teeth rip into his shoulder in order to evade a scream; a strong shiver pin-balls down his spine as a result. Her voice is absolutely wrecked as she talks over her muffled mouth. “Loved it. Loved it so much. Want—Want more. Please, please, please.”

Harry holds her down firmly to the sheets, pounding into her with a form of unrestrained force he’s never exhibited. She just drives him to the brink like no one else has in nearly twenty decades. “Can you feel me in your tummy, pet? Can you feel how I fill you up?” 

“Yes, yes— it’s so good, Harry. You’re incredible.”

“Such a proper little whore.” He has to actively hold back from digging into her throat with his fangs, his eyes screwing shut in concentration as his orgasm begins to burn through his veins. “Begging me to fuck you like one, over and over. You’ve never had it this good, have you?” 

“N-No. You’re the only one who makes me feel like this.”  

“Hands off.” 

“W-What?”

“Hands off.”

Y/N obeys, throwing her arms above her head and letting them hang off the edge of the bed as he’d instructed. It’s not like he wants her to stop scratching down his back, but he knows that if she continues, he’s going to black out. He’s already teetering, obvious in the black webs he can feel materializing over the whites of his eyes.

“Ask for permission.” 

The mortal unclamps her teeth from his bruised shoulder and swallows heavily, her words sputtering out from how hard she’s jerking against the bed. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please—can I—can I cum?”

“‘May I cum.’” The boy corrects, half because he wants to be a cocky ass, and half because it’s automatic. He was raised during an era where intellectual accuracy was of utmost value in society. It’s hard to leave those lessons behind. 

Y/N hiccups another mewl, hands curling into loose fists above her head as he continues to fuck her deliberately into the duvet. She repeats his phrase shakily. “May I cum? Please?”

Harry’s lashes flutter open and as soon as he sees her, all doe-eyed, covered in his love marks, with her bottom lip trembling...It’s like a switch flips. When he speaks, it’s soft and encouraging; a drastic contrast from his mood a few seconds ago. “Yeah...Yeah, baby, go ahead. Cum for me.” 

That night, as Harry lays there awake staring at that awful popcorn roof with the taste of her blood fresh on his tongue and her steady heartbeat throbbing in his heightened ears, he catches himself smiling in the dark. It doesn't have to do with emotions or feelings or any of that complicated bullshit. It just has to do with the fact that he found some consistency in his life, as unattached and materialistic as it may be. They don’t have a complex bond or a deeper meaning. They simply just coexist. They provide some common stability to each others’ lives and it helps keep an important balance. Stability is so rare to find, especially for an immortal who is condemned to witness the world constantly evolve around them while they remain frozen in time. Society will change, people change, appearances change, alliances change, and though it can be exhilarating, at times, Harry never truly has a say in it. He’s always just strung along for the ride.

This is different. It’s static, and that’s all he really needs it to be. Sex can be so emotionally messy if lines aren’t drawn and boundaries aren’t set. But with Y/N, it’s like they have a silent understanding— an unspoken agreement signed by both parties. It’s a notion that could have spared Harry his life in the past, and it’s an ideal that— even in death— took him centuries to learn:

Some people are meant to be loved, while others are just meant to be naked. 

///

The third week is when things escalate for the better. 

Specifically, Tuesday night. That’s when the sexting starts. 

It’s a pretty calm evening and Harry finds himself with nothing to do. Mitch is out with Sarah, who had come into town two days ago due to the band she’s touring with being on a three week break. She’d said she wasn’t staying for long— maybe a week, because she has plans to visit some other bloodsucker friends in Canada. Even though Mitch tries to hide it, Harry can tell he’s bummed about Sarah’s short visit. The older vampire is good at hiding his emotions, but Harry’s known him for so long that he could read Mitch’s mood even if he was blindfolded and gagged. 

The jade-eyed boy had been honest with his best friend, asking him what the point was in continuing to see someone whose depth of interest in the relationship wasn’t as developed as his own. Mitch had simply shrugged one shoulder and told Harry that he wouldn’t understand. He mentioned something about how eventually, the freshblood high would wear off and Sarah would find herself wanting to settle down somewhere with someone she could trust for the rest of eternity. Mitch explained that he cared for her enough to wait until then. 

His best mate had been wrong. Harry does understand. He understands the concept of chasing after someone who, in the end, didn’t want anything to do with him. He understands it a little too well, sadly. He figures that’s the same fate Mitch is bound to suffer, just on a less extreme level. 

But then again, Harry’s perception of love is majorly skewed, so who is he to judge?

With Mitch tied up with Sarah (probably literally, though Harry doesn’t dwell on that; it’s none of his business), his options dwindle to the rest of the crew. Niall and Xander had invited him to a concert they were attending, but Harry politely declined the offer. The musicians were some wannabe indie band and Harry would rather swallow a nicotine addict’s blood than listen to a couple of morons sing in cursive. Adam had suggested he tag along with him, Ny-Oh, and Charlotte to a new art exhibit that had opened up in the next town over. It was a thirty minute drive, so it wasn’t that bad, but Harry declined that invitation, as well. He loves art, if the giant collection on his wall has anything to say about it, but he doesn’t get on well with Ny or Charlotte. They say he’s “too much of an arrogant dickhead” to be around for an extended period of time. They’re right, of course, but it still hurts. Plus, Ny has a mullet and Harry knows he wouldn’t be able to withhold from making a Billy Ray joke. It’s best he stay away, lest she end up with an achy-breaky heart.

So that leaves him here, all alone at eight P.M. on a Tuesday, plopped on his couch in nothing but a pair of maroon plaid boxers as Hamilton plays on the ninety inch flatscreen mounted on his glass wall. He had left the curtains open, not really caring that he’s practically naked. The sun’s already set and it’s almost pitch black outside; plus, he lives on the twenty-fourth floor of the condominium complex. The only living being risking an eyeful is a peepy pigeon. Even then, Harry’s more than happy to put on a show. He’s confident enough in himself that nudity is practically second nature. His friends can attest to that. 

Harry lays across his leather sofa with a large checkered throw cushion snuggled into his side, one of his hands slung across the backrest of the couch as the other remains submerged wrist-deep in a bag of Veggie Straws. His socked feet are propped up on his round marble coffee table, ankles crossed and posture anything but eloquent. The apartment is silent, except for the musical streaming through the speakers of his television set and the gentle pattering of rain just outside his glorified window pane, accompanied by the faint flickering of the city lights below. The atmosphere of the room is relaxed and cozy and it lulls his soul in a manner he can’t put into words.

Harry has always liked the rain. Ever since he was a child, he would sit by the small round window of the attic room he shared with his older sister, watching it fall from the sky in sheets of glittering sapphires, soaking into the dry ground and turning it into a slush of dirt he would later sneak out to play in. When he got older, he would prop his shoulder against the doorframe at the back of his father’s blacksmith shop and gaze at it, mesmerized by how it would trickle down the streets of the public market, washing away all the grime that came with a bustling city’s reputation. Sometimes he would stand in it, feeling its cool touch run down his arms and soak into the back of his sot-covered work shirt. He enjoyed how it would cleanse the sticky sweat from his face and neck, its gentle nature leaving him feeling like he could float through air. Then his father would call him back into the store and playfully scold him for allowing himself to get drenched, warning that his mother would kill him if he caught a cold. 

Harry’s changed a lot since then, he knows that, but it comforts him that his love for rain is the one aspect of his personality that two hundred years of Hell had failed to take from him. 

The melodies swimming out of his TV reign him back in from memory lane. 

Harry’s not really one to enjoy musicals, but back when Hamilton had first hit Broadway, he’d used his persuasive supernatural abilities to sneak into one of the first showings. He’d been curious as to what all the hype was about, and the play did not disappoint. The songs were catchy, the acting was good, and the characters were brought to life through raw emotion and comedy. He respected that. And the plot of the story itself resonated with him deeply, as well. A protagonist that rose from nothing, fell in love with the wrong woman, and made terrible life choices that seemed correct at the time, which would all eventually lead to his death. It hit a bit too close to home. 

If he had a dollar for every time he’s seen it since it had come out on Disney+, he could probably pay rent himself instead of compelling others to do it for him. 

The play is halfway through one of its most famous ballads when the monster’s phone dings with a familiar tune. A smirk is already etching itself across his face before he even unlocks his device. 

I need interior design advice. 

I’m still a little sore from our last help session. How’d you bounce back so quick?

Funny, but I need ACTUAL interior design advice this time. 

Harry’s brows furrow in mild confusion and slight disappointment. He draws his hand from the junk food container, dusting off the crumbs. Oh. 

Genuinely? 

Yup!

He guesses he’ll give it a go. He does have pretty exquisite taste; the modern gothic aesthetic of his condo proves that. It’s not like he has anything better to do.

Alright, shoot. 

Y/N releases the breath she’d been holding in. Thank God he’s agreed to help. As much as she’s ashamed to admit it, Harry’s really the only person in LA that she deems relatively close to a friend. She hasn’t managed to mesh well with her coworkers much, despite the fact that she’s been trying extremely hard. She just doesn’t wanna force herself into unfulfilling fake friendships for the sake of having people to flaunt. It’s not right and she knows she’d grow to resent it. 

So instead, she’d reached out to the one California resident who doesn’t make her skin crawl. 

Whew, okay, thanks in advance! So I went out yesterday and got a new bedspread and I wanted some help choosing a new accessory to go with it, which is going on my wall. 

Harry’s ears perk up and his back straightens at her statement. Could she finally, by the grace of fucking God, be getting rid of that shitty tapestry? 

Well, let me see it, then. Don’t keep a man waiting, I’m dying to play Property Brothers over here.

A picture comes through of the two new accessories Y/N is referring to and the way Harry’s face drops instantly is almost comical.

Which tapestry fits better? I’m thinking the Van Gogh style painting of a lighthouse. The blue goes well with the dark turquoise of the comforter. But then again, the forest canopy has those pretty exotic flowers that compliment the coral stitching. I can’t decide. 

The vampire’s face pinches in disgusted horror as he blinks down numbly at the image on his screen. He’s going to be sick. Those Veggie Straws are about to make a hideous comeback. 

…two new tapestries? Did the other one rip or…?

What? No!! I just saw these down at the thrift store and thought they were cute. Why? Are they really that bad??

They’re not just bad, they’re worse. He’s going to ask her to blindfold him next time he visits. 

They’re…kinda immature, dove. I just thought you’d go for something cooler this time, like a vintage painting or a couple vinyls to mount on the wall. 

Immature? 

Oops. He should have picked his words more carefully. Now he’s gone and offended her and she’ll probably bite down the next time he puts his—

Another message interrupts his spiraling negative conclusions.

I know you didn’t just call ME immature when you compared me to a cream-filled donut, Harry. 

The playful tone in the text delivers a wave of relief that is almost as pleasurable as what lies between Y/N’s legs. 

Can I speak freely for a second? Full disclosure, no consequences?

That preface makes me think you’re about to chew me out.

I’ll be gentle, I promise. I know it’s not our usual dynamic, but I’ll give it a go.

Y/N ignores the bristling across her cheeks. 

Alright, go head.

I just think tapestries are kinda stupid. They scream “confused teenager trying to find myself.” But that’s just my opinion. I’m only telling you so you know that I’m probably not the best bloke to go to with tapestry inquiries. 

Harry watches as a read receipt stares up at him for a few seconds. Just when he thinks he might have truly upset her this time, her message bubble pops up. 

So...the one I’ve had hanging in my room the last three times you’ve been over…

I had to actively restrain the urge to strangle myself with it.

Y/N breaks out into laughter. The image of waking up to Harry laying facedown on her bedroom floor, balls naked and mummified within a sunrise tapestry...It’s sending her. 

Well, you know what? That’s not fair! You can’t judge my house when I haven’t even had the chance to judge yours. 

Harry nods once to himself in surrender, reaching up to finger-comb a few rebellious curls out of his eyes. She makes a valid play. 

Fair enough. You’ll have to come over and give me your opinion sometime.

I’d be honored to. Now, would you be so kind as to put your own personal bias aside this once and help me choose which one to put up. I promise I’ll spare you any more tapestry-related problems in the future. I’ll remove it from my customer contract.

Harry sighs defeatedly. He can’t believe he’s giving up his integrity for sex. 

Fine. Send me a picture of both of them up on the wall. It’ll give some perspective. 

Y/N giddily obliges, deciding to send a video instead. That way, she can get all of the angles in one go rather than having to send multiple pictures. 

Harry waits patiently, shoving another handful of chips into his mouth as he taps his foot against the coffee table to the tune of Wait for It, which is playing in the film that has now become the backdrop of his night. When Y/N’s next message comes through, he’s mildly surprised to find it’s a video. He clicks play, watching intently as she circles the two pinned tapestries slowly, making sure to get a proper view from all sides. By the time the thirty second clip is coming to an end, Harry’s leaning more towards the tropical canopy painting. It’s not as loud and she was right about the flowers matching the stitching on the duvet. 

He’s about to tap back “the forest one” when something flashes across the screen that makes him choke on his snack, launching him into a coughing fit.  

It’s within the last three seconds of the video and if he had cut it off in order to text back, he would have missed it. But he hadn’t, and now it’s burned into the back of his eyelids, causing a buzzing sensation to string right to the area between his thighs.  

The last few frames of the video, Y/N had lowered her phone from the position she’d been suspending it, probably thinking she had already stopped filming. She hadn’t. And because of that, Harry gets a full frontal view of her body, covered in nothing except a pair of lace panties and a mid-thigh oversized Avengers t-shirt. The entire screen fills with bare, silky skin and raunchy lace and he can feel his fangs poke into his tongue. 

Harry’s not a pre-teen; he’s not going to drool over seeing a pair of legs. What really gets to him is the fact that it appears Y/N still has a few hickies across the inner area of her thighs, which have failed to fade as quickly as the others. They should be gone, given that anytime Harry feeds (like he had the last time they’d slept together), he always gives her a bit of his blood to heal. Meaning, normal bruises like that should be gone. Maybe he just hadn’t given her a high enough dosage, or maybe he’d marked her more than he remembers, but either way, the stains are there.

The vampire ogles at the paused image with a dry throat and wide eyes. Just seeing her like that, dressed in comfy yet effortlessly sensual attire with no bottoms on whatsoever, freely flaunting his love bites around her apartment, probably looking at them in her mirror, thinking about how his teeth had felt grazing her skin…

It’s enough to pop a stiffy into his briefs. 

Harry glimpses over the top of his phone, swallowing thickly at the large bulge beginning to tent his boxers. His socked toes curl as he feels a longing throb begin to swell at the pit of his clenching stomach. Great. This is just fucking perfect. 

He attempts to tap back a reply, but his hands have started quivering slightly, clumsy thumbs ruining his message to the point where he has to retype it three times.

The forest one. I agree with what you said about the stitching. 

Okay, thank you so much! Your input is highly appreciated, as always.

The immortal finds himself gnawing at the inside of his cheek, weighing on whether he should mention the little softcore porn moment she’d unknowingly shot, or if he should just let it slide and go take care of the issue that is literally weighing on him— he can feel it getting heavy against his thigh. 

His fingers seem to take on a mind of their own, printing out a quick sentence and hitting the send button before he can rethink his motives. 

Did you watch your video before you sent it?

Uh no...It looked pretty okay to me while I took it. Why, do you need a different one? Was the lighting too dark? 

The fact that she sent it by accident only adds to the appeal. She’s such a good girl. So fucking innocent and sweet, she could practically give him a toothache. 

Do me a quick favor and rewatch it all the way to the end. I think you’ll be surprised with what you find.

Y/N leans back against her bookshelf wall, chewing on her bottom lip as a sly grin ticks the corners. She doesn’t have to rewatch the video. She’s fully aware of what she had done, which had been completely on purpose. She’s only playing dumb to see his reaction, getting off on how flustered he seems to have become. Yes, her intentions for contacting him had originally been purely for his opinion on decor. But when she saw the chance, she decided to jump headfirst and take it. What are friends with benefits for if not for times like these, when you’re too lazy to come over but need a bit of relief? 

The human allows a full thirty seconds to pass, simulating that she’s watching the video, and then thoughtfully taps out her response.

Oh, whoops. Sorry for the indecent exposure.

Harry shifts in exasperation against his sofa, the radiating in his abdomen crawling up to his chest and down to his knees. He needs to take care of himself now.

It’s fine, babe. You just might wanna be more careful, cause this time around you got lucky that it was me and it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Could go south if it were someone else. 

Y/N rolls her eyes lightly at his scolding, but continues to play the clueless act, curious to see where it’ll take her. 

You’re absolutely right, I’m so sorry. 

Harry clears his throat, flinching as he feels a soft twitch run up the length of his cock. He exhales tightly, trying to steer the conversation into a lighter mood. He doesn’t want her to feel bad; it’s not like he’s angry about this. He’s hot and bothered and needy, but not mad.

I just think it’s funny you exposed the fact that you go around your house without pants. 

Oh, fuck off! No one ever wears pants around their own house, especially if they’re alone. It’s one of the laws of physics. No human resistance, no pants. 

Harry glances down at his body symbolically, where he’s clad in only his underwear, as well.

Touché.

Exactly. 

A pause befalls the conversation as both parties fish for something new to say. The situation’s become less lively and more intense now and neither are sure how to navigate without crossing a line. In a surge of courage, Y/N decides to just directly communicate her intentions, praying that he doesn’t take it the wrong way. 

I have an idea, just hear me out. For the sake of evening the playing field, I think that since you saw me pantsless, it’s only fair that I see you the same way. It balances out, right?

Harry’s jaw drops in an open-mouthed simper, impressed by her blatant suggestion, but also by how smoothly she had delivered it. He mumbles his next words to himself, voice amused and somewhat awed at how she had managed to spin this to her benefit. “You clever little minx. Bet it wasn’t even an accident.”

You did it on purpose, didn’t you?

Y/N purses her lips, shrugging her brows cheekily.

Maybe.

The vampire scoffs, taken aback not only at the ploy she’d pulled off, but at how unapologetic she is about the whole thing. It’s hot. 

Alright, l’ll bite. Tick for tack. 

The photo that comes through makes Y/N choke on her spit. It’s not anything too revealing, but it packs a lot. Literally. 

It’s a pretty casual picture, and she gets the feeling he took it as so just to be a tease. In the frame, all she sees is a snapshot of Harry’s lap, thighs straining against the flimsy material of a pair of crimson tartan boxers, the large tigerhead tattoo he totes somehow prominent in the low lightning. Of course it stands out, though. That’s to be expected; his thighs are thick in the most satisfying fashion and they’re one of his most defining features. She can also see the bottom half of his lean tummy, the cutoff being the crest of his belly button. His fern inkings are peeking out of from below the waistband of the Calvin Kleins, dark and matte on his lightly bronzed skin, and she spots the nonchalant position of his crossed ankles in the background. 

As appetizing as every little detail is, the centerpiece of the portrait is the obvious bulge pressing into the fabric of his briefs. The outline is so prominent, the picture borderlines on graphic. His cock looks pretty as ever, even when it’s covered; the thin underwear leaves very little to the imagination. 

Y/N has to bite down on her tongue to keep from making an embarrassing sound.

Wow, okay, well...Your picture was much more explicit than my video. That’s not fair at all. Throws off the equilibrium we were trying to establish. 

Harry chuckles aloud, shaking his head in amazement at how well she can bend the game to her will. Three weeks ago, when he’d first laid eyes on that shy girl at the club, he would have never expected her to be so bold. Now, she has him wrapped around her pinky like a string.

You’re absolutely right. My apologies. Maybe you should send one similar so we can even out the stakes. 

You read my mind.

Y/N’s next picture causes a hiss to stream through the cracks of Harry’s teeth, eyes glinting red.

It’s a picture taken on top of her bed, the angle set from above. She’s laying on her side, her torso twisted so that her backside is in the shot, her huge tee pulled tight against her waist so it creates an enticing cinching effect. Her thighs are clasped together, the collar of her shirt pulled away just enough that he can see where the valley of her chest begins to curve, and the cheeky lace panties are working utter wonders for her ass. He can’t stop staring. He physically can’t pull himself away, his eyes bouncing across every pixel, attempting to commit the picture to memory to keep it locked in the back of his brain forever. 

Y/N awaits anxiously for his reaction, biting into the pad of her thumb as the seconds list by, wondering if he had enjoyed the nude or if he was just sitting there judging all her flaws. It’s been so long since she’s sent a risky photo like that, she can’t help but stress. Sharing your body with someone digitally is almost as intimate as real sex and it comes with similar worries and insecurities. Was the angle good? Are her stretch marks unattractive? Are the dimples along her backside gross? Is he second-guessing their arrangement? Is he wishing they hadn’t met?

She practically drops her phone when it vibrates.

God, you look stunning. Like a proper fucking dream.

All of her concerns immediately disintegrate, replaced by an odd sense of pride. She’s happy that he enjoyed it, and she’s thankful for the caliber of his response. Most men don’t care to comment that nicely, if they comment at all, and Harry’s enthusiasm only excites her further. She wants to keep going. 

You look pretty fucking good yourself. Wish I could just kneel between your thighs, take you into my mouth, and make you feel good for hours. 

Harry struggles to get saliva down his parched throat, her words bouncing around the inside of his skull, sending a current of bliss directly to where he needs it. 

Hours? You want me down your throat for hours?

For hours, Harry. I’d literally just sit between your legs and let you fuck my face again. Let you use me to make yourself cum.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Harry’s broken whine echoes off the tall walls of his home, one of his big hands finding a path to his curls and tugging in desperation. He needs to keep composure. 

Harry’s next snapshot comes through and Y/N has to screw her eyes shut for a second to brace the bolt of electricity that zips down to her core. 

The boy’s thighs have parted wider, his feet now down from the table, knees hanging off the edge of the sofa. His free hand has delved below his briefs, pulling them up just enough to show a tad of the neatly trimmed area beneath. His fingers are cupped over his cock, hiding it from plain view, but the imprint of his knuckles on the fabric suggest he’s gripping it tightly. The longer she looks, the more she notices— specifically, a dark damp patch spreading at the middle of his boxers and she knows damn well what it is. The fact that she’d got him riled up enough that he’s leaking through like that...She can hardly breathe right. 

Shit, you look so good. How do you always look that fucking good? I just want to feel you stretch me out while you moan into my mouth. 

Harry slowly starts pumping his palm up and down his cock as he rereads her words, catching his lower lip between his teeth, his naked and flushed chest stuttering. He doesn’t want to be the douche that tells her to send another picture, but he really needs her to. He wants to see what she’s doing, how she’s fairing. Wants to know if he has her as fucked as she has him right now. 

It’s almost like they share a telepathic link because not even five seconds later, another beautifully filthy photo is decorating his screen. 

This time around, Y/N has decided to fully lay on her back, spreading her legs open and drawing her knees up slightly so that her thighs are not only flexing, but displaying all the love bites he’d left only a few days prior. They’re all different shades of purple and brown, scattered over the satin suppleness of her skin, painting a canvas of the heated night they’d shared. It’s art at its most prestigious, if he’s ever seen it. And she has her hand ducked below her panties, the outline of her fingers situated right over her clit. 

Harry’s own hand instinctively tightens around his length, pulling a weak groan from his parted lips. He throws his head back against the backrest of the couch, bucking into his palm and teasing his forefinger over his bubbling tip. He spreads the precum all over the sensitive head, whimpering when the draft from the air conditioning caresses it and sends a quiver toppling over his shoulders. 

Fuck, she’s driving him mental. There’s only one way to take care of this effectively, despite their distance. 

I’m going to call you.

Y/N gulps heavily, licking over her chapped lips and feeling her pulse jump at the realization that she’ll be getting to hear his throaty voice coax her through an orgasm. Not only that, but she’ll get to hear him cum, too. She’ll get to hear every shattered gasp and needy mewl, almost as if he were pouring all those sounds of pleasure right into her ears in person. 

The mortal’s heart hiccups when his contact pops up on the Caller ID, phone vibrating insistently. After a deep breath taken to ground herself, she slides her shaky thumb over the glass, slowly bringing the device up to her ear. Her voice is soft and timid as ever, a tremble running through its undertone. “H-Hello?”

Harry’s words come through the crackling speaker as dark and smoky as whiskey, pouring into her mind and intoxicating her as easily as the real liquor would.

“Flip onto your stomach and take off the lace. Now.”

[muffindaddystyles]

Request: Could u do one where y/n is a stripper but her and Harry are already together. So Harry and his friends all know y/n works at the strip club because she’s Harry girl and they all go up there and she gives him a lap dance?? Idk I just need something dirty😂✋🏽

Disclaimer: Public infatuation, spitting and teasing.

//

Do you ever see shit crumbling down infront of your eyes and said, "fuck it." before taking the step that could have a ominous impact on your life? Perhaps Y/N did the same. When she couldn't pay for her UNI she started working at a club as a waitress, scrubbing the awful stickiness of beers and alchol wasn't a nightmare for her at least.

She always admired the girls outdoing themselves on stage, something so fascinating about having men on the tip of their shoes and emptying their pockets just to have a watch of mere skin.

One night when the clock striked past 2 am and the club had barely three people her friend ushered her on the stage, it wasn't sexy and eroticaly mind blogging. She was trying to have fun (she's very socially akward and have a stage phobia). Rather, cute as she danced in her pink skirts and showy apron not caring when her headband slid down as she spinned around the pole with loud giggles.

What took her gasp away was a beautiful man sitting in the corner dimmed away from the bashing lights of the room. Hand adorned in gems and jewels wrapped around the crystal glass of beer as he sat man-spreading in a black suit, a white shirt underneath that gives the glimpse of his tattoos and an evident smirk of ferver for her that made her tummy scorch.

"Y/N!" The bartender shouted for her, "Take this order for the table 22, quick." She tumbles down two stairs hastily and it takes out a chuckle from his lips, his eyes following her constantly. The glass of another bevy is for none other than the man with emarld eyes and chocolate curls.

She approaches him with a bicker between her mind and heart to shut the fuck up, as she slides the glass infront of him without glancing up at him.

"Y'dance gorgeously." His voice sultry and so so supple she couldn't belive it came out from him. "Uhm thank you . . . but 'm not what you're thinking 'm." She fumbles with her apron back treating slowly and he raises his brows not in amusement but in acknowledgement puffering out his bottom red lip she oh so gonna think about whole night.

"Doesn't matter, eh." She nods, "like somethin' else?" Her smile. Harry think her smile lit up his previous grumpy mood and his eyes falls over her shoes, he didn't like that they were literally about to thread into patches.

"Nope. Jus' headin' out, take care, love." Fuck him. There's no way she wouldn't imagine about him, being there in her dainty loft.

He left a bunch of cash as her tip and it made her all blushy.

//

Their next encounter was rather funny. Bumping into eachother at a grocery shop and her collection of junk food, cans of sweet sodas and candies went flying infront of him making her feel giddy that what he'd think about him? A child of five ready to go back to school?

His apologies were cut short when he sees it's her and his eyes went glowy. She's completely a different person when not under the blazing lights, so soft and clean wearing a cream coloured sweater, curdoury lilac pants and spectacles perched atop her bunny nose.

Him in a rolling stones tee and slacks.

"Y'alright, there?" He asks her with a brush to her elbow and she nods, "oh, Mr. Gucci pants?" That was the point where their love story started not a clićhe one but Harry's head over heels for her to this day. She calls him Gucci pants to annoy him cause his trousers that had a visible gucci label on the hem of them.

Then after few months of them hanging out and their first kiss she got to know that he's the owner of the club she fucking works at. She didn't know what to do, is that okay to date something out of your status and league? Even boss? She ghosted him for weeks and realized that how much she missed him. His thoughts didn't seem to leave her mind at all, his lips and kisses.

They've a most healthy relationship, he doesn't stop her from working at club as a waitress neither does he feels remorseful when she gets angry for paying her extra replying with cheekiness, "can't wait to have our bank accounts together, i like to give y'me lovin' sweet bug."

Their sex life's a proper satisfaction for both of them, Harry's such a caring domineering to her and it makes her cry sometimes when she floats into her sub-space. She loves to have him inside her after rough nights and to have sex in the morning getting sticky due to him hardening while still inside her.

She's public shy so they never try anything outside (harry respects her boundaries and gives her space whenever she needs some) but giving him a blowjob in his car doesn't seem that scary, does it? And the fact she loves to keep him warm and wet in her mouth everytime. He exposed her to the world of sex toys and how to use them, she was hesitant in the start but now loves to play with herself while he caresses his cock infront of her.

She hates being tied up! Always wants to touch him and feel his velvety skin. He ties up when she's being a bad puppy.

She loves when he fucks her from behind on her knees studying and sometimes she likes him harsh too, to be pounded raw, it makes her panties soak with yearn to have him.

But, in general he's all pet names and kisses. Gifting her silks and making her matchas. Cuddles and hugs from behind. Though, he likes to be a small spoon with his face tucked between her squishy tits and likes to have back rubs by her when the work gets a load on him.

Today though she'd like to come out of her cocoon and do something bold to show him that she wanna put the same effort to turn him on as he does. She doesn't know that her only presence stiffens his dick.

Harry was along his friends in his usual spot away from the bustling crowd when the patter of heels distracted them making their heads perk up, "would you guys like something?" She asks them and Nialler who's already miffed bad hiccups, "another bevy fo' me." She rolls her eyes at him sticking her tongue out.

"Then fetch one for yourself." While they bickered Harry admired his girl. The curve of her peach and her fleshy thighs, the stocking she's wearing doing nothing to satiate his burn to fuck her right now on these tables infront of everyone. "Anddd what'd you like to 've, Sir." She dips her knee between his thighs near his crotch whispering sultry-ly in his ear and pressing her wet lips against his earlobe on purpose.

"You." He smiles bashfully running his hands under her skirt and thighs giving it lil smack making her squeal softly, "'m all yours to take." She smooches a kiss to his mouth and presses her panties clad cunt against his man-spread moaning subtly when he groped her ass to assist her in humping him.

"Get a room you guys!!" Their friends hollered and Harry was quick to take Y/N's hand leading her to a private room, "On the sofa legs spread fo' me." She doesn't listen to him and pushes him down instead crawling up his lap.

"No." She tries to use the most intimidating voice, "what? You sound like a kitten, baby." He teases her letting his fingers linger over her garter and she hisses when he snaps it. She pins his wrists between them telling him grumpy-ly, "I - said - no." Her neck stretches giving Harry more skin to plant kisses as she brought his hand to cup them against her pussy.

"Wanna fuck me 'n d'the dirty work yourself? Go on then." He murmures grazing her collarbones with his teeth and palms her chest, stroking the perked nipple again and again to make her wet than she already's. Except of undressing him herself she orders him because she's too far gone to do anything other than have his cock pounding inside her, "Undress." When he does so she wraps her hand around his huge prick and taps his cherry lips with her fingers.

Pulling at his foreskin for some time and coating it perfectly with his own pre-come she sides her panties with shaky fingers and sinks down on him completely, she loves this position. In this way he feels too big inside her, deep to her tummy and could embrace eachother cosily.

"This's what you wanted? To fuck yourself with me prick, to keep it forever inside you?" He grabs her from sides helping her ride him and she hugs his shoulders whimpering with each languid stroke of his thickness against her spongy walls, "yes, yes, yes." His balls slaps against her bum and she squeezes around him with a cry.

He tuts in a mean voice, "Look how 've turned me sweet innocent Y/N into a filthy girl whose cunt's always drippin' with me cum." Her hairline beads with sweat and she muffles her moans by bitting him, he yanks her.

"Let everybody listen how hard ye're bein' pounded." He growls spanking her ass to a plump redness, groping her asscheeks to push harder and it makes her squirt around him.

"More, more, please more." She says in a soft hoarseness thighs quaking around his waist from exhaustion and he chuckles kissing her temple rolling her sensitive clit with the pad of thumb to make her cum, "oh! Harry — " This time she moans without holding back and when she doesn't stop moving Harry takes the hint.

"Bug you're gettin' tired." He flips them. Pressing her thigh against the back of couch with a tight grip of his hands around, so tight it'll leave imprints. Looking down a whimper slips from his throat at the sight of her widely spread for him and her pussy lips wrapped around his rock hard cock, though the sofa is already ruined with their wetness he spits where they're connected.

The dirty, sloppy wet noises of them turns him on so bad and he laps at her nipples like a kitten would do drilling inside her vigorously it makes her gasp in pleasure, moan and cry his name.

She rakes her nails down his spine when he grinds down at her in rough circles, "I'm gonna cum." She cries out cramping around him and their bones rattles with each pound she receives from him.

"Come fo' me darlin', gonna count to three — " He caresses her jaw, kissing her again and again face expression bundling up with the wave of pleasure that's about fluid over him as she thrashes under him, head on the sofa and torso stretching out, "fuck, fuck, fuck." He mutters unloading inside of her in sticky white ribbons that spill out of her because he came alot.

Taking a breather they untangle themselves a little and she whispers snuggling into his neck, "might think we could crash at this sofa tonight." Wrapping her calves around him like a koala.

"But, 'm hungry too." She giggles when her stomach grugled angrily.

"Let's clean up and get fish 'n chips from the next shop." He pets her head.

"Amazing!" She chirps.

//

[jackrrabbit]

Smutty smut HC with any of your choosing from Haikyuu! When they discover you’ve gotten breast piercings 🥵🥵🥵. You asked for thirst, and I’ll deliver the thought!

Tsukishima, Kageyama, and Kuroo x s/o with nipple piercings (18+)

Thanks anon! I couldn’t choose just 1 so I’m doing 3 😇

Warnings: f!reader, teasing, nipple piercings, all characters adults

Tsukishima ◇◇◇

You’ve mentioned before that you want to get your nipples pierced, but Tsukishima always scoffs and tells you that you’ll never do it because you’re too much of a wimp when it comes to pain

So…that means you get to mess with him 😈

You decide to corner him after school, saying “Tsukkiiiii~ guess what’s different about me” while hugging him & making sure to press your chest into his

He usually wouldn’t play games like this, but he’ll do it for you. So he takes a look—it’s not a new haircut, is it? Tsukishima’s not good at noticing stuff like that. You’re wearing your uniform, so it couldn’t be an outfit

“Just tell me.” “No, you have to guess.” “Ugh whatever, give me a hint then.”

You’ll just hug him again, even tighter this time, and he’ll feel your perfect tits squishing into his chest. Are you not wearing a bra? You feel so soft. Except for…no way

“Did you get the piercings? You actually went through with it?”

Fuck, he wants to see. Even just thinking about your cute little nipples with bars through them is making blood rush south

Why did you have to tell him at school where he can’t do anything? You’re so devious. He’s got about fifteen minutes til practice starts, maybe that’s enough time to mess around?

But you’re not going to indulge him. You tug him down to your height by the collar of his shirt and kiss him on the cheek. “Have fun at practice, Tsukki ♡”

Damn it, now he has to do his best to make his hard-on go down before volleyball practice starts and the team sees. But it’s difficult when he can’t stop imagining your brand new nipple piercings…and your breasts…which leads to him fantasizing about your tits bouncing up and down while you ride him

Which isn’t great for his boner

You better be waiting for him after practice because he’s not feeling like waiting around to see your piercings in person ◇

Kageyama ✦✦✦

You won’t tell Kageyama that you got your nips pierced; instead, you’ll wait til the two of you have some privacy and tell him you have a surprise for him while holding up your shirt

As soon as he sees the brand-new rings hanging off your nipples, he will go completely silent for a few long moments. You’ll feel kind of insecure while he just…stares at you

Does he think they look weird? Maybe nipple rings aren’t his thing. What if you made a mistake and he thinks it’s ugly or something? You feel like you’re dying inside waiting for him to say something

Little do you know, Kageyama isn’t saying anything because his brain short-circuited as soon as he saw your piercings. The only thoughts going through his mind are something like: pretty…sexy…want to touch…

When you shyly ask him what he thinks, he’ll snap back into focus and tell you they look amazing

He’ll have lots of questions. When did you get them? Did it hurt? How much? Are they sensitive?

Oh really? They’re that sensitive? Is it okay if he…touches them?

Kageyama doesn’t want to do anything to harm you, and thinking about how much the piercings must have hurt makes him extra careful when he reaches out to rub over them with a feather-light touch

He loves the contrast between your velvety warm skin and the cool metal threaded through it

His touches will get bolder as you respond to them, and soon he’ll be cupping your breasts and rubbing and pulling you into his lap

Honestly, Kageyama has never been that into body modifications. He doesn’t really think piercings in general are sexy, but when they’re on you? He can’t stop touching them ✦

Kuroo ✷✷✷

You’ve had your piercings for a while before you started dating Kuroo, and you can’t wait to show him

The two of you haven’t done anything yet, but things are getting hot and heavy over the phone and Kuroo asks you to “send pics ;)”

So you take a real cute picture in front of your bathroom mirror with your top pulled up over your breasts, the hem of your shirt held up in your mouth between your teeth

He’ll read it immediately but it’ll take him a few minutes to respond

“holy shit”

“are your nipples pierced?”

“that’s so fucking sexy”

“you’re home alone rn right?”

When you tell him yes, he won’t reply and you’ll be kind of annoyed until a while later when you hear a knock on your door and it’s him, sweating and panting like he literally ran all the way to get there

“Can I see, can I see, can I see?”

Kuroo’s barely got the door closed behind him before he’s pushing your shirt up, exposing those pillowy tits tipped with metal bars that he wants to have in his mouth right now

God damn if this isn’t the hottest fucking thing he’s ever seen. Are you his bad girl? His little rebel? Jesus, he wants to see you in leather

But that’s gonna have to wait, because right now he’s entirely focused on giving those pretty nipples the attention they deserve

Kuroo will touch for a little bit but he’s so eager to taste you…the feeling of your skin on his tongue and the metallic taste of the bar piercing is so nice, it’s almost as good as the high-pitched begging noises you probably don’t even realize you’re making

It’s hard for Kuroo to stop himself while he’s sucking on your tits, but eventually he’ll just pick you up and carry you to your bedroom so he can check and see if you’ve got any other piercings he should know about ✷

[myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants]

Such a pretty event!!! May I have a Red Lily with Denki, please?

I am SO SORRY for taking forever to finish this. Clearly I have no chill and it is a tiny bit longer than I thought it would be. I hope you like this!

Red Lily (Passion) with Denki

Warnings: Swearing, mutual pining, sexual tension, making out, mention of a b0ner

WC: 4.4k words 

Denki still couldn’t believe his luck, here he was, with you, working on his quirk. He didn’t think much of it when he was sitting in the sitting area of the 3A dorms off handedly asking if anyone wanted to spar.

He got a look of annoyance from Bakugo, confusion from Kirishima and amusement from Mina and Sero. A sound of someone running up behind him had him turning his head to you clapping and excitedly jumping up and down.

“Oh, oh oh! Umm I would actually LOVE-” You see the looks on the other people’s faces and clear your throat, before continuing. “I wouldn’t mind helping you out Kaminari, if you still want to that is…” You looked down at the ground, playing with the hem of your shirt too nervous to look him in the eye.

Denki is still staring at you, his mouth wide open. You want to practice with him? The girl he’s been pining over since you stood up to that 2B prick saying that he isn’t worth the powerful quirk he has. He will never forget the look on your face as you yelled….

“How dare you! Kaminari works just as hard as everyone else! He is talented and strong, and you are weak for saying bullshit like that!” You are fuming, cheeks red fists balled at your sides, you were at least several inches shorter than the jackass and yet you seemed to tower over him.

After he stomps away red faced you turn to the rest of the class with rage in your eyes before blinking and looking away shyly. “I um... he deserved it.” You back to your seat, no one really knowing what to say. Denki can see admiration in most people’s faces, even Bakugo’s. When you sit down at your seat and stare at your desk Denki doesn’t realize he is staring until Mina throws a note at him.

You look like a lovestruck fish! Close your mouth!

Denki feels a thump to the back of his head. “Fuckin Ow! What the hell?” He turns and sees Bakugo with a glare on his face and a closed book in his hand.

“You haven’t answered her question dumbass!” Bakugo glances at you and goes back to his book.

Rubbing the back of his head he turns and sees you still nervously standing in front of him.

Shit

“Yes! I mean, umm yeah I’m down for that.” He feels Kirishima kick his leg and flinches. “Thank you! I’ll meet you outside in 20?”

Your head shoots up, your eyes wide and shining. “Okay! Yeah! I’ll see you in a bit!” You turn away and skip to the stairs a big smile on your face. You are out of sight of the group when Kirishima claps Denki on the back.

“You almost blew it there man! Good thing Bakugo helped you out.”

“Oi! I did not help him out! I was helping myself out by getting rid of sparky and L/N for at least an hour.” Bakugo doesn’t even look up from his book as he punches Kirishima.

“Of course, BakuBro! Whatever you say!” Kirishima shoots a knowing smile to Mina and Sero, none of them really believing the explosive blondes excuse.

Mina hops up and sits next to Denki. “Soooo! Looks like your gonna have some alone time with L/N! Are you finally gonna confess to her?”

His face goes red, simultaneously imagining you accepting his confession or rejecting it. “I-I-I I don’t know about that. She looked like she really wanted to spar… I don’t want to make it weird.”

“If you don’t I will.” Denki’s head shoots up and he looks at his friends, all four of them pointedly looking away from him. “I’m sorry what!? Mina?”

“What?! She’s amazing and smart and sweet. I like people Kaminari, doesn’t matter how they identify.”

“Kirishima?”

“Uh, Haha yeah dude she’s like super manly and you remember when she helped us out with English last year after Bakugo gave up? Not that I like her as much as you but if you don’t make a move….” Kirishima shrugs his shoulders.

“Then get out of the way you’re holding up the line.” Sero leans back on the couch, crossing his arms, a smile on his face.

Denki coughs and wearily turns to Bakugo. “You too Bakugo?”

Bakugo looks up and stares him down with piercing red eyes. “I’m not a liar fuckin dumbass, stop being a pussy and ask her.” He looks back down at his book, a slight blush on the tips of his ears.

Everyone decides to ignore it in favor of staying alive, Denki gets up and heads to his dorm room to change, Sero and Kirishima in tow.

When you get to your floor you beeline for Jirous’ room, needing to talk to the cool-headed girl before getting changed.

You bust into the room without knocking, causing Jirou and her girlfriend of 2 years Momo to split apart from each other, lips glossy and faces red. You shut the door behind you and sit in the bed, pushing their feet aside.

“You are not going to believe what just happened!” You jump back up and start pacing.

“You just barged into my room without knocking and interrupted my private time with my girlfriend… again?” Jirou lays down on the bed with a huff, sending an annoyed look to Momo.

Momo knows you don’t do it on purpose and decides to take pity on you, grabbing Jirous hand she turns to look at your pacing form. “What is going on L/N?”

“I’m going to be sparring with Kaminari!!!” You stop and look at your two friends, stopping your pacing but wringing your hands, suddenly nervous. “Oh god, I’m going to be sparring with Kaminari! What if I embarrass myself? What if I knock him out or give him a bloody nose! What if I fart?!”

You sit down on a desk chair and put your head in your hands, suddenly regretting speaking up when you heard him ask for a sparring partner.

“For the love of- “Jirou sits up to yell at you but Momo interrupts.

“N/N, it’s gonna be fine! We have handled numerous villain attacks and being in a class with not only Bakugo but Mineta as well. I promise you can handle it.” She sits up and leans over to pat you on the head.

You take a couple of deep breaths and look back up at your friends. “Thanks, you guys I needed a rational person to talk me down. I love you.”

Momo taps your nose and Jirou shakes her head with a smile on her face. “Anytime you drama queen, you know we love you too.”

You get up and say your goodbyes before hurrying to your room to change.

When you get back down stairs you are wearing your cutest workout gear and have a duffle bag with you.

No need for makeup, I’m gonna be sweating anyway and it’s not like he hasn’t seen me looking worse.

When you walk towards the front doors the Baku squad is huddled around the couch trying their best to look like they aren’t spying on you.  

“Real smooth you guys, real subtle. Hey Dynamight!”

“What do you fuckin want?!” Bakugou looks up from his book, red eyes blazing.

You try and fail to hold in a laugh. “Your Uhhh Haha, Your book is upside down.” Before he can throw it, you run outside almost colliding with Denki in the process.

“Woah there sparkplug!” Denki grabs your shoulders and steadies you with a small smile on his face. “Let me guess, running from Bakugou?”

You want to answer him, you really do. But he lost you at sparkplug and now you forgot what words are. “Uh umm w-what?” You shake your head trying to jumpstart your brain. “Did-did you just call me sparkplug?”

Denki’s eyes widen and he let’s go of your shoulders, putting a hand behind his head and rubbing his neck. “Oh Haha, yeah I uh I did.” He stands there for a moment, looking everywhere except at you. “OH! I’m – I’m sorry if you didn’t like it! It just kinda came out and oh geez I’m so sorry.”

His frantic waving breaks you out of your stupor and you giggle. “Don’t worry about it Kaminari! I actually… kinda …. Liked it?” Your face goes red and just as Denki opens his mouth to comment you start walking off at a brisk pace. “We better start getting over to the gym or it’s gonna be too late!”

Denki doesn’t follow immediately, cemented to the spot.

She liked it. She liked it!

He hears a knock on the windows and looks up, Mina and Kirishima yelling at him. He can’t hear it, but he doesn’t need to when they keep repeating, “Follow her you idiot!”

You keep walking, not even checking to see if Denki is following you.

I kinda liked it! Really Y/N? Just call yourself out why don’t you. God, I hope that didn’t freak him out. Alright, it’s fine. Just breath, just forget about it and move on.

You are taking deep breaths and giving yourself an internal pep talk when Denki catches up to you.

“So Uhhh, what ummm what do you wanna work on today?”

You can tell he is trying his best to ease the awkward tension, thankful really. You hoist the strap of your duffel higher on to your shoulder and glance at him.

“Well, you are the one who asked for a partner so I figured I would let you make that decision. But if you don’t have any ideas, I did have some of my own.” You both get to the doors of the gym stopping at a metal door that reveals a keypad. As you type in a password that was given to you by Aizawa, Denki can’t help but check you out.

You are in a pair of black slip-on shoes, a dark green pair of workout leggings with a matching zip up. The colors complimenting your beautiful skin, the pants stretched tight across your ass.

He rubs his hands over his face, closing his eyes and yelling at himself.

What am I doing? What if she doesn’t like being looked at like that, by me, or anyone. Stupid Kaminari, get it together!

You clear your throat, and he peeks through his fingers, you have a concerned look on your face one eyebrow raised.

“You okay there Kami?” You reach out and poke his forehead, to preoccupied with how adorable he looks with his hands covering his face to be worried about touching him.

Denki’s face turns red and his eyes widen. “Kami?”

“Yeah, Haha. I figured if you’re gonna call me a nickname I’ll call you one too!” You walk off with a smile on your face and a blush on your cheeks.

She’s so pretty I’m gonna die.

Denki takes a breath, dropping his hands from his face and accepts the fact he is indeed going to die because you are so pretty. But first he needs to figure out a way to make you his if you want to be.

As you walk to the middle of the gym you drop your duffle bag and start stretching, waiting for Denki to join you.

“I really didn’t think anyone was going to take me up on my offer, so I don’t have any ideas for sparring. I’ll just follow your lead on this.” Denki drops his water bottle on top of your duffle and starts stretching next to you.

“Well, I know you have been struggling with hand-to-hand combat since that wasn’t an option with your quirk until recently so I think that would be the best place to start.” You finish stretching your arms and sit on the floor to continue with your legs. You turn your head to look up at Denki and not realizing he was so close to you, look directly at his crotch. You can’t help but stare, he was wearing grey joggers for Christ sakes! And boy did he fill them out, he maybe more on the lean side but that does not mean he isn’t built. And hung apparently if that imprint is any indication.

You feel your face get tomato red and swear you can feel your nose start bleeding. You turn your head quickly and clear your throat. “Did you want me to use a specific persons fighting style or your good with a wildcard?”

You can see Denki thinking about It for a moment, sitting down to finish his stretches and sticking the tip of his tongue out.

God he is so cute, I just wanna kiss his face.

“Let’s go with wildcard, I can’t think of any specific people. Plus…. I trust your judgement.” He stands up and offers his hand to you.

You take it without hesitation but when you stand up neither of you makes a move to let go. You are both looking at the ground and when you look up and meet each others eyes you both move away.

“Alrighty then! Let’s get started” You walk to the middle of a circle painted on the ground for sparring and get into a fighting stance.

Your quirk was very handy for practicing like this and helping others with combat. Your quirk was both mental and physical, your brain being able to learn any fighting style after seeing it once and your body being able to replicate it. The draw back was that most people base their fighting style off of their quirks (which you can’t replicate) but that did help you in terms of defense.

“Just don’t use your quirk yet, I don’t have anything to protect me from getting zapped.” You knew Denki wouldn’t try to hurt you but mentioning it out loud made you feel better.

You both stood in the circle, waiting for the other to make the first move. You were still trying to figure out what style you wanted to fight him in when he lunged for you, reaching out to grab one of your arms. You dodged to the side, turning so your back was to him and putting his arm over your shoulder. You lean back then lurch forward pulling his arm and crouching so he flips over you and lands on his back in front of you.

You hear the air leave his lungs, but you have both been through a lot of training in your three years and he recovers quickly. Flipping on to his stomach he gets his arms underneath his chest and pushes up getting on to his feet quickly. This time he waits for you to attack. You are both circling each other before you run at him and then slide going for his feet, he catches on to your move and runs towards you. He jumps over your body turns and grabs one of your arms twisting it to flip you over on your stomach. Before you can get up, he bends your arm behind your back and pins you with his body, straddling your hips and pushing down on your back.

You both stop moving, trying to catch your breath before you tap out. Denki scrambles to get off of you and help you up. “Oh shit, sorry sparkplug! You okay?”

You lean over with your hands on your hips still out of breath and wave him off. “Yeah… m’fine…. Just…. need a minute.” You walk over to your duffle bag tossing him his water bottle and grabbing your before taking slow sips. You wipe your face with the back of your hand and put your water bottle down. Now WAY to hot after sparring you unzip your jacket revealing a sheer tank top with a sports bra underneath.

Denki is still drinking water, so he doesn’t notice until you walk over rolling your shoulders and neck. His is mid drink when he sees you, eyes going wide choking on his water.

You jog up to him rubbing his back with a concerned look on your face. “Hey, hey! You alright Kami? What the hell happened?”

He finally gets his breathing under control and stands up straight turning to you. “Wow! That was weird! I’m alright Haha, you ready for another round?” His face is red, rubbing the back of his neck his eyes darting from your top to your face.

You chose to keep your face neutral, not giving any sign that you know what his problem is. But you can’t help but both scream internally in embarrassment and laugh in “karma bitch”.

So, he is checking me out 100% and I might melt but it’s only fair since I got an eye full of the cervix destroyer.

“Yeah, I’m ready, you ready to get your ass handed to you?” You smirk, pushing his shoulder as you walk past.

He laughs, happy you haven’t caught on to his ogling. “If I’m remembering correctly, I won the first round.”

“Well yeah!” Shrugging your shoulders, you get back into a fighting stance. “But that was just the warmup.”

It had been about 2 hours before you both decided to end after the next fight. You had both won multiple fights, but Denki had taken the lead 6-5.

You were both sweating, breathing heavy, you had taken off the sheer top over your sports bra and Denki had taken off his t-shirt.

Thank god he was wearing a tank top underneath but that has been distracting none the less.

You and Denki stand at either end of the circle, watching each other for the slightest movement. You move first, running towards the left side of his body. You knew he always had an opening on that side, even if he were quick at closing it in his tired state you could probably get him this time.

Fate was on your side; you could see the realization on his face just a second to late for him to do anything about it.

You jump at Denki bringing your legs up to wrap around his upper torso, using the momentum to swing around and knock him to the ground. You land, him on his back and you on top of him straddling his waist a hand on either side of his head. Your hair had come undone and was hanging down, a curtain shielding both of your faces from the outside world.

Neither of you makes a move, looking into each other’s eyes, breathing in the others breath, your lips just shy of brushing together. You can see the want in his eyes, the same look reflected on yours. He brings his hands up and caresses your thighs, just before you close the distance you hear a cough.

“I believe I said you could use this room for practice, not…. That.” You both look up, your hair parting just enough so both of you have a view of your homeroom teacher glaring at you with tired eyes.

Denki and you look back at each other and then scramble to move apart. You turn towards Aizawa and bow apologizing and grab your things to leave. Denki isn’t behind you; in fact, he has his back to you, and you can tell that his neck is bright red. “Kami! Let’s go!”

Denki turns and glances at you with nervous eyes. “Oh uh, I gotta talk to Aizawa so I’ll see you later!”

“Alright! Yeah see you later.” You hurry past your teacher, eyes downcast. Walking back to the dorm you try to figure out what Denki could possibly need to talk to the teacher for.

It’s the weekend, and he never talks to the teacher, he isn’t getting bad grades so…. OH MY GOD

You suddenly stop walking, your face bursting into flames. Before you got up Denki had shifted while you were on top of him and you could have sworn something poked your thigh.

“Oh god, what if Sensi didn’t walk in at that moment? Would we have ended up having sex?”

You think about it for a moment, your brain going from embarrassed to pissed in a matter of seconds.

“Did I just get cock blocked by my homeroom teacher?!” You continue walking to the dorm pissed off, tired of the sexual tension and mutual attraction between you and Denki not going anywhere.

If he isn’t gonna make the first move, then I will.

Denki finally walks back to the dorms, crestfallen. Aizawa knew exactly why he stayed behind, giving him a talking to about initiating that kind of behavior in public. As soon as his teacher started talking his issue calmed down and then he had to wait until he stopped lecturing.

As he is walking back to the dorms his quirk is sparking left and right, his mind going into self-destruction mode.

Dude! A boner? What the actual fuck is wrong with you? What if she felt it? Were you going to kiss? Her eyes are so pretty up close. Why did you get a hard on? That’s it, I’m digging a hole behind the dorms and living in it.

He is almost to the building when you walk up to him, a determined look on your face. “Hey uh L/N, I am so sorry about that. I didn’t mean to get us in trouble and – “You stop just short of bumping into his chest and look up.

“I like you. Do you like me too?”

Denki stops talking and just stares down at you.

“I’ve liked you since you found me crying after class and told me all those horrible jokes to help me feel better.”

Denki’s eyes go wide. “That, that happened in our first year!”

“Yes, it was.” You are still looking up at him, your face getting red, worry seeping into your eyes.

Denki is trying his best to talk, to assure you he does also like you, to say something but words are failing him. He can feel his quirk acting up, probably seconds from ruining this moment so he does the only thing he can think of.

“Mmmphf” Denki wraps an arm around your waist pulling you close, cups the back of your head, and crushes his lips against yours. You are shocked for a moment, literally shocked since his quirk was sparking off but the softness of his lips is intoxicating, you reach your hands up to grip his shirt.

When you start getting light headed from the lack of air you gently push Denki and he immediately pulls away. His lips are red and glossy, his eyes dark, pupils blown out.

“You okay sparkplug?”

You huff out a laugh, a small smile on your face. “I’m fine, just hoping that kiss meant you liked me too.”

“Why would it not? Do you normally kiss people you don’t like?” Denki tilts his head in question, laughter in his eyes.

You scoff. “Really Kaminari? I give you this whole heartfelt speech and- mmphf-you just-mmphf “Denki keeps kissing you, but you put your hands over his mouth, laughing. “Okay! Okay! I get it, you like me too.” Putting your forehead on his chest, you stick your lip out and pout. “The least you can do is say it out loud you know.”

Denki moves to grab your shoulders, slightly pushing you away so he can look in your eyes. You drop your hands, crossing your arms in front of you.

“I like you L/N. I’ve liked you since you stood up for me last year and I haven’t been able to get you off my mind since. I like you a lot and I want to be with you. Is – is that okay?” You can see his short burst of confidence wavering, so you take a page out of his book and lean forward to kiss him.

Later that night

“You saw them, right?”

“How could you miss them? Kaminari had a stupid smile on his face and L/N was holding his hand.”

“I saw them kissing out front.”

“I thought Kaminari was gonna zap her, it scared me for a second.”

As most of 3A is down stairs hanging out in the common room you and Denki are in yours, making up for lost time.

When you finally get up the stairs and to your room (Denki insisted on your room) its only a second after you shut your door and lock it before he pushes you against it.

His hands cupping your face, his body pressed against yours and you melt into it. He tilts his face down a bit, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth before nibbling on it and you moan. He lets go of your lip and chuckles, the slight opening allowing you to delve your tongue in. He moans this time, letting go of your face to caress the sides of your body, the heels of his hands ghosting over the side of your breasts before stopping at your hips.

When he pulls away you grab his hand and pull him to your bed, pushing him down to sit on the edge of it before getting on his lap and straddling him.

“Oh shit, are you- um are you sure you want to do this?” He rests his hand on your thighs looking at you with wide eyes.

You rest your forearms on his shoulders and kiss him softly. “We are just making out Kaminari, I just figured this more comfortable for both of us. Are you uncomfortable? I could move.” You shift, preparing to sit next to him but he grabs your hips and keeps you in place.

“No! I-I’m fine, just checking on ya.” He turns his head to kiss your arm. “You can use my first name by the way… unless you don’t want to of course.”

You hum in thought, moving so that your lips are a breath away from his ear. “Can you kiss me now…. Denki”

A shiver runs up his spine, he turns his face to kiss you, mostly tongue and teeth but passionate none the less.

Denki puts his hands under your ass and holds you to him before picking you up. He turns around still kissing you and lays you down on the bed before pulling away, hands on either side of your face.

“Y/N, if I could I’d never stop kissing you.”

@eyebagsbutglam @patchworkpuzzle @doinmybesthere

@reinawritesbnha

[feral-dumbass]

Speak of the Devil

James “Bucky” Barnes/ Female Reader

Summary: You tag along with Bucky to a undercover reconnaissance mission at a goth club. Smut ensues. 

Includes: Degradation, Choking, little bit of slut shaming, unprotected semi-public sex, hint of cockwarming, dirty talk, oral

Words: 4,307

A/N: This is my first fic I have ever posted on here. I hope I included all the warnings correctly. Not sure if I need to include fingers in mouth, but that happens. Title credit goes to the Misfits. Tagging @gagmebucky​ and @babybluestan​. Thanks for giving me the guts to post this! I am so thankful for you guys. 

Masterlist

The bass of Molchat Doma vibrates the walls as you search for Bucky. When you stepped into the goth club on 66th street, you were more nervous than you liked to admit. The club had recently gone under new management and is rumored to be a place for arms trafficking. It is ingenious, actually. Under all the makeup and leather, anyone could hide their identity. Take Bucky for instance. Tight jeans, a black t-shirt, some eyeliner, and a leather jacket down to his calves, Bucky is unnoticeable. Also, helps that the most identifiable thing about him is covered under gloves. Don’t even get started on the leather band and silver chain wrapped around his neck. You need to fan yourself just thinking about it. 

You also look quite different from your usual lab coat and safety goggles and Bucky has certainly noticed. He could not keep his hand off your thick fishnet covered thighs the whole way here. 

With a kiss to your cheek, Bucky had left you at the bar to check out the area. That had been twenty minutes ago and sadly, people were starting to notice you too. 

You felt eyes on you as you mindlessly scrolled through the meme group chat. Peter and Shuri were having an entertaining fight on who sent the best memes. You couldn’t handle the creepy feeling anymore. You were ready to show this creep the pretty switchblade Bucky got you for your birthday. Chin raised, your eyes met with green ones across the bar. You tried to give your best resting bitch face with dead eyes, but he only smirked and took that as his cue to swoop in. You slammed cash on the table for your blood red drink and slipped into the crowd before he could make two steps in your direction. You went down a hallway in the back which led you to your latest predicament. Where the fuck is your thick ass boyfriend? 

You have enough PHDs under your belt to know not to yell out Bucky’s name. Searching for his wide frame under the neon lights is the only option you have left as you pass the restrooms. You think finding a 6’2” man would be easy, but apparently, every alternative person wears 5 inch platforms. Not like you can really blame them. If they weren’t so expensive, you’d be Bucky’s height too right now. 

As you fill with envy for people that can fit into knee high platforms, an arm wraps around you and yanks you into a unisex bathroom. “It’s me.” Bucky’s deep voice assures before you can even start going through the defense attacks he taught you. You slip out of his hold and turn around to face him. Ignoring the fact Bucky has taken off his jacket and his muscles are now stressing the seams of his long sleeve shirt, you cross your arms. 

“Where have you been?”

Bucky blinks confused before finding his answer. “Bugging this two floor building. Why? What’s wrong?” You will tell him sooner or later. Might as well do it now. 

“Nothing. It’s just, uh, a skeevy man was staring at me far too long. We made eye contact and he tried coming over.” 

“Did he hurt you because I will-” Bucky’s already heading for the door before you squeeze his arm. 

“Bucky,” you laugh astounded that he’s so ready to fight for you. You didn’t even give him a description. Bucky lets you pull him back to the center of the room. “I slipped through the crowd before he could try anything. I’m fine.” 

“Promise?” 

“I promise. I’m fine.” You stand on the tip of your toes to kiss Bucky’s cheek but he turns his head to kiss you instead. He kisses you deeply just long enough to leave you wanting more.

“You still have your knife right?” 

“Yes, you dork.” He visibly relaxes at the confirmation. You take a hold of his chin and turn his face towards you. “You do realize you have cut on your cheek right?” It’s not too bad. A medium cut surrounded by bruising. Super serum is probably at work already healing it, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful. It’s not like you’re left with the best of first aid in the bathroom. You head to the sink to wet a paper towel with soap and water. 

“I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” You glare at Bucky through the mirror. “I don’t suggest going three doors down. A couple of guards are sleeping on the clock.” He walks over and cozies up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he kisses your shoulder. “Is that really necessary. I think there’s more pressing matters to attend to.” He rolls his hard on into your ass as he kisses across your shoulder and up your neck. 

“Really?” You pry as you wring out the paper towel.

“I have been hard since you walked out in the commons.” Your face gets warmer at his confession. “I mean-” Bucky groans as he looks down at your fishnet covered legs. 

“While we’re on the subject, the eyeliner is working for me.” You’ve piqued Bucky’s interest. He meets your eyes through the mirror again. “You should wear it more often. You look so much like-”

“If you say Chase from the Covenant, I’m leaving.” Life drains from his eyes as he speaks.

“Like a man who can get into my pants.” 

“Nice save.” 

“Anyways, I say fuck it. Let’s do it.” Bucky’s eyes light up with excitement. “But clean the blood off your face first.” Bucky takes the paper towel out of your hands, scrubs the line of dried blood off his cheek, and throws it in the trash can before you can blink. Bucky turns your face to meet his lips not even a second later. He kisses you even deeper than before slipping his tongue in your mouth. You lift your hand to thread through Bucky’s hair. At the feel of your hand in his hair, he breaks away. 

“No. No. Keep your hands on the sink. I think this could be fun.” He grabs both of your wrists and places your hands on the edge of the sink. He’s moving your hair off your neck before his lips connect with it. “So pretty, baby. Is this all for me?” He mumbles before placing a hickey on your neck. His hands squeeze your thighs before snaking up your torso and kneading your breasts through your top. Lost in the pleasure only Bucky can give, you assume his question is rhetorical. You learn it wasn’t as he stops his ministrations. “Is this mine?”

You scramble to find your words. “Yeah.” Your voice cracks. “Yes.”

“Good girl.” He looks directly into your eyes through the stickered mirror as he unzips the front of your top. Bucky brings his gloved hand up to your mouth. “Bite,” He mumbles before planting multiple kisses on your neck. 

You bite down on his index finger and he pulls his hand away, leaving the glove in your mouth. He quickly takes the glove, stuffing it in his back pocket, before his right hand is kneading one of your bare breasts. You sigh at the feel of his calloused hand on your soft skin. You get a moment to enjoy the feeling until Bucky is lifting his other gloved hand toward your mouth. You get the memo without having to be told. You help tear off his glove for his metal hand and he’s stuffing it in his back pocket again. Instead of going for your other breast, two of Bucky’s metal fingers tap on your bottom lip. 

It is not like you to deny him. You take his fingers in his mouth and suck on them, giving them the same attention you’d give his dick. Bucky leaves the growing patch of hickies on your neck to growl at the sight. “Such a fucking tease.” His metal fingers press down on your tongue making you take his fingers deeper. He let’s up when he knows you are about to choke. “Can’t wait to get inside you, but first I want to see you cum on my fingers. Would you like that, honey?” His right hand leaves your chest and plays with the hem of your short skirt. 

With his fingers still in your mouth,  you nod, widen your stance, and back your ass up into his crotch. He chuckles lowly right next to your ear before his right hand is yanking up your skirt. Your skin tight skirt barely budges with one hand. 

“You gotta be kidding me?” Bucky takes his metal hand out of your mouth and uses it to yank up your skirt. You pray to whoever’s listening that your horny boyfriend doesn’t rip your bottoms off. It’d make getting out of the club a lot more messier. “This skirt is annoying me. You’ll just have to be naked for a week to make it up to me.” Thankfully, your skirt moves up your body to bunch at your waist. You don’t have time for a witty retort or to even think about how you were airborne for a second before Bucky is digging his metal fingers into your sex. At the feel of fishnet over wet folds, he pauses. “Wait, are you-”

“Not wearing panties? Yep.” 

He lets out the longest groan to date. “You’re gonna kill me.” Bucky tears open a hole in your stockings at the apex of your thighs before massaging and digging into your sex with vengence. “That’s what you’re gonna do. Forget all the highrisks missions. The stupid fucking guards. I’m gonna die because my girlfriend can’t wear a fucking decent pair of underwear.” Bucky groans and he’s… he’s being unfair as two of his thick metal fingers slip into you. He knows how much you love it when he uses his metal hand. Bucky is using it against you to sear his touch into your brain. You throw your head back onto his shoulder as he reaches sensitive depths inside you. His right hand goes back to kneading your chest.

“Wearing panties makes it harder f-for… for you to fuck me. Need to be prepared for your horny ass 24/7.” You pant in between words. Bucky raises an unimpressed eyebrow. The speed of his pumping fingers quicken to the point where the both of you can hear how wet you are over the distant music. “W-when are you not… horny?”

“I’m not even going to entertain you with an answer when I have this wet pussy to play with. ‘Sides, I’m not the one who sounds horny right now. “ Bucky’s metal thumb rubs your clit. “I’m not the one desperate enough for my boyfriend’s cock that I'll spread my legs in a public bathroom. Honestly, you just went with it? No second thoughts?” You’re too overwhelmed with pleasure to even bother a response. Bucky clicks his tongue. “That’s not good girl behavior. More like slutty behavior.” Bucky’s eyes light up with an idea. “Be a good slut and cum for me.”

“Bucky,” you gasp pleadingly. 

“C’mon, you heard me. Cum for me. It’s the least you can do.” He’s sucking on a pulse point on your neck when you go rigid underneath him. You cry out as you reach your euphoric high. 

“God damnit, you’re so gorgeous when you cum.” Bucky makes you feel the full effect of your orgasm as he continues to pump his fingers and rub your clit. You have to practically tear his metal arm off you to get peace. Both of his hands leave you and you can hear the tell tale sound of his pants being undone. 

You get a small amount of reprieve before Bucky is rubbing his dick through your drenched folds. His thick cock stimulating your sensitive nerves. Bucky’s steel toed boot nudges your stance wider and he’s dipping into your entrance just enough for you to start to feel the intoxicating stretch of him. You’re arching your back at the burn when he pulls out suddenly. You sputter as you try to find your words. 

“I don’t think you really want my cock.” He goes back to spreading your folds over his cock. The tip runs across your sensitive, overworked clit every once in a while.

“I’m literally on display for your fucking dick right now.” 

“Then say it.” Bucky nuzzles your neck and blows cool air on the patch of hickies. 

“Bucky, please fuck me. I’ve been wet since you mentioned you had to wear a leather jacket. Let me have it.” 

Bucky snorts at that. “My sweet slut. Always so ready and willing for my cock.” 

“Only a s-slut-” Bucky slides into you slowly making you feel every massive inch of him  “- f-for you.” You whimper at the feel of him as your back arches. You're trapped in between Bucky and the sink. No choice but to feel all of him. 

Bucky rumbles right against your back. “My own little whore. I like the sound of that.” He tests the waters by thrusting shallow. You’re convulsing around his cock. It always takes a few to get used to the initial stretch. He groans. “Always so fucking tight. My own personal heaven.” He hasn’t been able to stop his little thrusts, addicted to the feel of you. 

“B-Bucky,” you gasp strained. “P-please, move. Do something.” 

“Look at you so desperate for my cock. I love it. Such a good whore.” He pulls out and you could cry until he’s thrusting back in, knocking the wind out of you. You gasp, collecting enough air for him to knock it out of you again. Again. And again. It’s not before long, Bucky is setting a brutal pace and all you can do is take it. You are going lax as the pleasure makes your extremities tingly. Bucky is pretty much the only thing holding you up as he brings three of his right fingers towards your mouth. He doesn’t even have to tap on your lips. You open your mouth for him to slip his fingers inside and suck on them. Bucky’s eyes zero in on your pretty lips wrapped around his fingers. 

“What a good slut. Such a good girl. I love you so much.” His metal hand gently wraps around the base of your neck. His index finger and thumb stroke the skin right underneath your choker causing goosebumps to break out. “This looks so pretty on you, baby.” He kisses the spot your jawline and neck connect before continuing. “I think we both know how much better my hand is wrapped around your neck though.” He gives a light squeeze, slightly cutting off your blood flow, and grins at you. A broken moan leaves you as drool pools around his fingers starting to drip down his hand and your chin. “So fucking stunning. Should have got out my phone before we started.”

A light, airy feeling starts to creep into your head, kind of like your floating. Bucky’s pace never lets up and you’re close. So, so close.  A few more thrusts and Bucky is reaching new depths. You’re knuckles strain as you grip the sink hard. 

“Shit.” He grunts. His fingers press down on your tongue not give a fuck if you gag. Your eyes widen as his warmth floods you. Bucky’s pace slows and he’s pumping his hips shallowly while he cums.

 As much as you love the bare feel of him, you’re pissed. You were so close to an orgasm and he stopped. It was without clittoral stimulation too. It was gonna be groundbreaking. You actually gag on the pressure of his fingers down your throat and smack his wet wrist. He quickly takes his fingers out of your mouth and apologizes. You can’t believe you're stomping your foot while still on your boyfriend’s dick, but there’s a first for everything. You’re actually pouting as you cross your arms over your bare chest and jut out your lower lip. 

“Bucky!” You wait for him to take his eyes off your ass and meet yours through the mirror. 

He smacks your ass, squeezes it, and hums, mildly distracted. “Yeah?” He glances up and does a double take. “You’re pissed?”

“Uh yeah. Do you know how close I was before you ruined it? I-” Bucky takes his hand off your throat and uses both to dig his thumbs in the dip of your back as he shushes you.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll make it up to you.” You’re frustrated and slightly on edge when Bucky slowly pulls out. “Don’t get more upset, but that was literally the hottest thing we’ve done. You have never looked hotter.” 

“Why would I get upset when I feel the same.” You begrudgingly agree. 

“Oh my god, you’re gonna hold not letting you come against me. You’re such a baby.” You open your mouth to defend yourself, but Bucky turns you around and lifts you on to the edge of the sink before you can start. Butterflies erupt in your stomach at that manhandling and you ignore it. While you avoid his eyes and glare at the wall over his shoulder, he wipes some of the drool off your chin. You melt on the inside and try not to show it. If you look in his eyes, you’re going to forgive him. If you look into his eyes, you’re going to forgive him. “This is ridiculous. When have I ever left you hanging? Don’t you think maybe I had a plan?” Your eyes slowly slide over to his. His eyes, still darkened by lust, bore into you. “I don’t want to see you cum on my cock through the mirror. I want you to face me, eyes rolled back, mouth gaping as I repeatedly reach all the sensitive spots inside you.” 

“You’re the one that’s the fucking tease.” You smack his broad chest. He takes your hand and kisses each knuckle. His hand then goes to knead your thighs dangling off the edge. 

“So, what do you say? Second round?” 

“I can’t believe I am saying this, but I’m sexually frustrated and still slightly mad. Fuck me before someone comes in.” He wedges himself between your thick thighs. Bucky leans down to kiss you and you thread your fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck, happy to get to touch him.  He eventually stops kneading your thighs, just feeling the texture of the mesh stretched across your skin. 

Bucky groans as you nip at his lips when he pulls away. His head drops down and shakes it in disbelief.  “You need to wear these more often.” He looks very serious at you and you would snicker if you weren’t about to fuck. You do smirk at him though and swirl his hair between your fingers. 

“You gonna fuck me in public more often if I do?” You wipe some of your burgundy lipstick off the edge of his bottom lip as you ask. 

Bucky’s Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps. “I-is that what you want?” He’s grabbing your ass and pulling you closer to the edge. You can feel his hardening cock against your hip. You’re so close to Bucky, you lean in just a few inches to press your chest against his and whisper sultry in his ear.

“I am constantly ready for your cock. Twenty four seven. Name a place and I’ll spread my legs. So fucking big. Feels so damn good.” You kiss right underneath his ear and then move a few inches down to suck hickey on a soft spot of his neck. With super soldier recovery rate, it won’t last long, but it sure does rile him up. He moans and it echoes off the linoleum poster covered walls. You love the vibrations underneath your lips as he tilts his head to the other side. You know his eyes are fluttering as you can’t help but to give him a few others hickies next to it. 

You lean back to admire your handiwork. Purple blotches litter his neck in between smudges of burgundy lipstick. You’re pretty sure you’ve wiped off all your lipstick on Bucky. His blown out pupils watch you like a hawk, hands digging into your ass. He’s rubbing his hard on into the crease of your stomach and thighs and he doesn’t even know it. “C’mon, I want to feel the ache of you tomorrow. Fuck me like the whore that I am.” You feel a chill run down his spine before he finally takes action. 

He rolls up his sleeves and of course, because your chest is now facing him, he needs to leave a few hickies on them. As he guides his dick to your entrance, you wrap your legs around his waist. Bucky momentarily ceases the hickies to watch your puffy folds easily accept his wide cock. Both of you are groaning at the feeling. 

“Your pussy’s so wet for me. Fuck.” Bucky’s too turned for a filter. You keep your edging comment to yourself and kiss his sweaty temple. The edging thoughts stewing inside are knocked out of you as Bucky fingers trace the place you two are joined. He uses the excess of your combined wetness to rub your clit. Pleasure makes your toes curl. 

“Not what I meant when I said fuck me, Bastard.” You can’t get Bucky to move his hips without falling on your ass. He seems perfectly fine to have you warm his hard dick as he kisses and leaves hickies along your collar bones. Your free hand grabs his bicep and you’re close to coming already. 

“Yeah. Your bastard.” You can feel him grin against your skin. You’d comment if you weren’t about to cum. 

“C-close. Please don’t stop.” You gasp out, begging as the rise of your orgasm hits. You’re squeezing Bucky while in your peak. He almost groans as loud as you’re moaning.

“You’re so gorgeous. Love when you convulse around my cock, honey.” He kisses your cheek momentarily before going back down to your chest. He starts pumping his cock in and out of you. This time literally knocking the wind out of you. You’re oversensitive from your orgasm and he never truly let you come down from it. Bucky is certainly making his promise. You’ll feel him in your guts for the next few days. Your hands run through his hair and pull on the ends. His mouth finally detaches from your chest as he moves with your hand. He lets out a full blown out moan that makes your heart pound. Bucky always lets out the filthiest moans when you pull his hair. You fucking love it. His metal hand leaves your ass. He grabs a hold of the edge of the sink as he pace picks up. 

As much as you love filling all your wet dreams with the hottest audio ever, you don’t have the strength to keep your arm up for long. Your hand drops to his back. His muscles ripple underneath your fingertips as you dig your nails into his back. Both of you panting into each other's ear. Your legs shake at the approaching orgasm. 

“I know you’re close. Be a good whore. Cum on my cock. I’ll wait for you.” He rubs your clit even faster. 

“FUCK.” You’ve never been happier for loud music blasting through the club’s speakers. An intense orgasm takes over you. White dots fill your vision as tears collect at your waterline. With how hard your gripping his cock, Bucky isn’t far behind. He can only get in a few more thrusts before he’s cumming again. He bites into your shoulder and groans. Shivers wreck down your spine as his warmth fills you for the second time tonight. Bucky lets the sink carry his weight as he grips it hard. 

There’s a groaning protest before a chunk of the sink falls off. You’re there to block him from falling. He pulls out and moves you closer to the other edge, away from the crime scene. You look over your shoulder. Thankfully, he didn’t break off any of the major plumbing parts. Water spraying everywhere would make looking yourself presentable a lot more harder, but maybe that could have been your excuse. Oh well. 

You turn back to Bucky. He’s still holding on to the broken piece of sink. Both of you break out into giggles as he throws it in the trash. 

“I can’t believe you did that.” You’re grinning ear to ear as he tucks himself back into his boxers. 

“I can.” Bucky shrugs. “I don’t think you get how tight you get when you cum. Me breaking things during sex is not new.” 

“My back. Our nice bed frame. The ottoman in the commons… Can’t forget the multiple tables. Shout out to Tony’s dented Acura hood.” You pull Bucky’s shirt to get him closer to you. You kiss him before he speaks. “Are you trying to seduce me?” 

“If you fuck me again, there won’t be a sink left.” 

He hums and rubs your thighs. He’s definitely addicted to the feel of the fishnets stockings. Good luck trying to get his hands off you for the rest of the day. “You have a point.” He drops to his knees. 

“What are you doing?” He’s spreading your thighs wide in front of his face.

“I can’t let my cum drip down your legs out there. That would be irresponsible of me.” That's all the explanation you get before he’s burying his face in between your legs, stubble scratching your inner thighs. You gasp as he licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit. Fuck what he said. You’re the one that’s gonna die. Bucky is truly your horny bastard. 

[twink-appreciation-posts]

Needs and Wants - Spencer Reid x Reader

chapter six of “all bets are off”

um. so. spencer is the best fuck you've ever had. also cumming too many times can hurt. who knew?

warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT, degradation, daddy kinky, spanking, overstimulation, the WORKS. im mildly apologetic.

When you awoke in the morning you heard the noise of static cracking on the other side of your phone. Reaching for it, you immediately noticed it was hot to the touch. Had it been on all night? Had Spencer never hung up?

“Reid?” You questioned groggily.

“You slept quite late.”

You groaned. “Why are you still here?”

“I… I don’t know.” He seemed confused by his own actions. “I guess I just felt strange hanging up.”

“Well. I should probably get dressed, I’m supposed to meet up with a friend for dinner.” You checked the time. “Oh. Fuck. I really did sleep for too long.” You sprung out of bed, rifling through your closet. “What have you been up to today though?”

“Mostly just reading. I slept in a bit late as well.” You could hear his smile through the phone. You occasionally had contact with Spencer outside of work, but not very often. It was nice. “What time is your dinner?”

“Six! It’s just an old friend from college,” you explained, sighing.

“Not excited?” He questioned, an air of humor to his voice.

“I just don’t know what to wear,” you chuckled.

Spencer went quiet on the other end. “You know that one black shirt you have?” He questioned.

You tilted your head a bit. “I have a lot of black shirts, Spence. You gotta be more specific. Wait- did you use your freaky memory to memorize the contents of my closet?”

“It’s not freaky, but yes. And it wasn’t fully intentional.” A pause. “I’m talking about the one with the lace. It’s… like a tank top.” You scanned through your clothes.

“Is it the velvet one?” You asked, noticing a pattern.

“Yeah. That one.”

“You have a thing for velvet, don’t you?” You giggled, remembering his fingers running over the fabric of the dress you had worn a few days prior.

“Maybe I do.”

You took the shirt off the hanger and examined it. Not a bad choice. “Any suggestions for the bottom half, sir?” You teased.

Spencer inhaled loudly. Hah. For once you were the one to catch him off guard. “Well, my first instinct is one of those skirts you like to wear when the team goes out together, with nothing else on underneath, of course.” You opened your mouth to argue. “But I wouldn’t want to risk giving anyone a peek of what’s mine. A skirt would still look nice, though.” He finished.

You rolled your eyes. “So shorts, then.” You said, grabbing a skirt. Why would you want to give him any more confidence of the control he had over you? The skirt had been a good idea, but you didn’t have to be totally honest, right?

Spencer chuckled. “Have you always been so petty?” He questioned.

“Have you always been such a sexual deviant?” You fired back.

“Touché, y/n. Touché.”

You and Spencer hung up a few minutes later since you had dinner plans to make. They weren’t anything special but you valued being punctual. The dinner went well enough, at least in the beginning. The “old friend” you were meeting up with was just a guy you were friends with in college. Your mistake, you would later learn, was deciding that it would be cute to take some pictures for Instagram. They were totally innocent, of course, but within a few minutes of posting them, you got a text message from the one and only Spencer Reid. You told your friend it was a “work thing”, not a total lie, and examined.

‘You wore the skirt’

You chuckled at your phone. ‘I did.’

‘Did you take my advice and wear nothing underneath?’

‘No, because I’m not crazy.’ You rolled your eyes a bit.

‘I’m sure your friend would’ve liked it.’

Before you could reply another text came through. ‘When are you planning on being finished with that friend, by the way?’

‘I’m not sure. Why? Something you’re looking forward to?’

‘Just trying to figure out if I’m going to get to leave bruises on that pretty little neck of yours tonight or tomorrow.’

Another text. Damn, he was a fast typer.

‘I wonder what your friend would’ve thought of that? Maybe you should schedule another dinner with him after I’ve absolutely ruined you. Let him see what a pathetic slut you are for me.’

You glanced up at your friend and back at your phone. Was Spencer seriously doing this right now? “Sorry,” you mumbled an apology across the table. “Working in the FBI can be annoying.”

‘Why are you doing this?’ You typed out.

‘Doing what? Getting you all needy and wet while you’re on your dinner date? Because I can.’

‘You think I’m enjoying this?’

‘I know you are. I bet your thighs are pressed together, I bet your face is bright red. Have you told your friend what you’re texting about?’

‘You make a lot of assumptions, Spencer.’

‘If you weren’t enjoying this, y/n, you would’ve stopped replying a long time ago. What was it you said last night? You need me? Don’t you need me to fuck you? I could’ve been fucking you right now, you know. Could’ve had your face pressed down into the mattress, or maybe I could’ve bent you right over your kitchen counter..’

You weren’t even sure how long you had been on your phone at this point. You felt bad but… fuck. What exactly were you supposed to do in this situation? “Listen I, um,” you began to stutter out. “You know how the BAU is, always calling me in at odd hours, and I uh,” you began to stutter out excuses as your phone dinged over and over again.

‘I wish I could see how flustered you are right now.’ ‘I wonder if you’re thinking about getting on your knees for me..’ ‘Maybe about how badly you want to know how my cock feels inside of you.’

Your friend got the gist of it. You had to go because of “work”. You paid the tab, exiting the restaurant as casually as you possibly could. You texted as you walked back to your car.

‘If you wanted to ruin my night, you’ve successfully done it. I’ll be at my apartment in 20.’

You turned off your phone, shoving it into your purse and ignoring the incessant chimes of text notifications, finding your way home. A few minutes after you had settled, you heard a knock at your door. You braced yourself, pulling it open. “Spencer.” You smiled. “What a surprise.” He didn’t respond, eyes scanning your figure. “So,” you continued. “Do you wanna tell me why you decided to bombard me with text messages during my lovely evening out?” You raised a brow.

He considered your question, fidgeting with his hands. “When you told me that you were seeing a friend I didn’t realize you meant..”

“What, a guy?” You chuckled. “Was I supposed to inform you of his gender beforehand?”

Spencer shook his head. “No. I just hate imagining all of the things that must have been running through his head about you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not that it matters, but it’s not like that. He’s a friend.”

“Oh, I know. It’s not you I’m worried about. I mean, I doubt he could fuck you half as well as I could anyway, but he’s probably been fantasizing about you all night.” A bold statement indeed.

You just laughed. “I think maybe you’re projecting, buddy. You’re the one who blew up my phone and forced me to come home.”

“Forced? Unless my memory is somehow mistaken, I think you’re the one who made that decision.”

“Are you here to argue semantics with me or-“ He cut you off.

“And to your earlier point,” he took a step towards you. “I have no need to project. I’m the one who’s going to get to see you all bruised up and begging for my cock, aren’t I?”There it was. The switch. You had been waiting, waiting for the moment where he got annoyed with you. You opened your mouth, ready to push him even further over the edge. “I’d watch what you say now, little girl. I’m already planning on making sure you regret all the teasing you’ve done the past few days, don’t add insult to injury.”

He really had an issue with teasing, huh? Good. Easier to rile him up. “Is this where you start the whole training thing you were going on about yesterday? You gonna teach me some tricks? And if so, do I at least get some treats if I’m good?” You questioned, going directly against his words of warning. You were watching him closely, wanting to see him seethe. You felt a wave of confusion pass you over as he seemed unfazed, unfortunately maintaining composure. In fact, he stepped forward and closed the gap between your bodies, placing his hands on the hem of your skirt, fingers dancing along it.

“Are you done?” He asked, eyes not leaving yours.

You looked up at him, mind going blank. “Um. No. Fuck you.” You spat out quickly, a last-ditch effort to get more of a reaction out of him.

“Right. I’m not sure what I expected from such a useless little slut. You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Spencer mumbled. In one swift motion he was pulling your skirt down and watching it pool at your feet. He was kissing you just a moment later, hands holding your face firmly in place. You would’ve fought for control, but you could already tell it would be a futile effort. His fingers were digging into your skull, tangling in your hair, and his lips were relentless, barely giving either of you room to breathe. You could feel it now, though. The anger you had been working so hard to trigger was coming out in full force. When he eventually pulled away his hands moved from your head to your breasts, swirling around the lace and velvet that covered them. You were panting, watching him, the way his fingers flexed and his eyes followed his own movements. “You’re so pretty, it really is a shame you can’t behave yourself.” He pulled the shirt over your head, leaving you exposed.

He leaned down and began to assault your chest with his tongue, one of his hands shoving your panties to the side and inserting two fingers into your pussy without warning. Your hand flew to your mouth, attempting to stifle the embarrassingly loud moan that he had caused. He didn’t take it slow at all, no, he started off at a brutal pace, as if his mission was to get you to cum as quickly as possible. If that had been his mission, he was succeeding. Before you had a chance to tell him that you were close his lips were at your neck, biting hard enough that you were sure that makeup wouldn’t cover the aftermath. “Cum for me, slut. It’s not hard to tell that you’re close already. So fucking needy for me, all you do is fight me but look how easily you crumble. There’s no hesitation when my fingers are inside of you, huh?” You couldn’t reply even if you had wanted too, you were too busy struggling to keep yourself standing as your orgasm washed over you. Spencer helped, a hand behind you to keep you stable, but you were still shaking. “Good girl. Let’s see, how many more of those do we have left.” You looked at him with confusion. “Well, I’d say we have one from at the club, when you let your hand wander,” his fingers hadn’t let up, still pumping in and out of you. You were trying your best to focus on his words, but it was proving to be a difficult task. “Another from that night, how you touched yourself right where I could hear,” You wanted to argue or say anything really, but your voice was too busy moaning and whimpering as his thumb moved onto your clit. “One from earlier today, especially after that little stunt you pulled on Instagram. And at least one more for the show you just put on before I shut you up.” You were close again. Fuck. It was too close together. Too much stimulation. “What do you think, baby? Does 4 sound good? We can make it 3 right now if you cum for me.” He said ‘if’ like it was an option for you, but it was far from it. You moaned his name, probably loud enough to alert your neighbors, as your second orgasm arrived. “Fuck, oh my god, Spencer. Fuck.” You panted out, legs giving out beneath you. He chuckled, holding you up on his own and finally removing his fingers from inside of you. “Good girl. So good for me.” He praised, allowing you to catch your breath. He picked you up now, taking you to your bed, and gently placing you down. You watched as he began to pull off layers of clothing. You didn’t think you could get any more turned on than you already were but seeing Spencer undress definitely did it. You couldn’t peel your eyes away. He left his boxers on, his dick straining against them.

He moved onto the bed, hovering over you. You prepared yourself for him to kiss you again but instead he spoke, brushing a hair out of your face. “The only words I want to hear coming out of that filthy little mouth of yours from now on are ‘yes, daddy’. Do you understand?”

You gulped. Yes. You understood. But were you actually going to-

His had went to your throat, not applying pressure. A warning.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl.” He flipped you over onto your stomach, inhaling sharply. He moved his hands underneath your hips, picking them up so that your ass was displayed.

“Look at you,” he tugged your panties down your thighs, hands skimming over the skin. “Such a perfect little toy for me. So eager to be fucked.”

You squirmed, his hands being so close to where you desperately wanted them.

“Do you want this, baby?” He asked, his hand coming down on your ass. It stung, but only for a moment. Not his full force, you could tell, but it was enough to get you to squeal. “Y-Yes, daddy.” You spoke softly. You felt his hand leave your skin and braced yourself for it to return. It did, of course, but much harder this time. You flinched a bit but Spencer held you in place. “Look at you, such a fast learner.” He cooed, another blow landing on your ass. It hurt. You knew that. But you found yourself prioritizing the pleasure in your mind. “You said that you wanted bruises that lasted for weeks, right?” He asked, hand coming down again. The pain began to become ever-more present, even when his hand wasn’t on your skin you could feel the sting from the cool air. He repeated the process a few times, mumbling words of praise in between. Tears began to spill from your eyes when he was finished. Without his hand to support you, you crumbled back down on the bed, laying on your stomach. Spencer flipped you over gently, watching the tears flow. “Good girl,” he praised, wiping a few of them away. “Such a perfect little slut for daddy. You did so well.” You found yourself relishing in the praise up in a way you hadn’t before. “T-Thank you, daddy.” You breathed out shakily. Spencer smiled at you and began to spread your legs apart gently. “But you’re not done yet, are you baby?”

Your eyes widened at the reminder. It seemed impossible. You weren’t sure your body would even be able to take it. You began to protest, but your words were cut short as he began to trail kisses down your body. He didn’t waste much time on his way to your pussy, tongue grazing your clit. “Oh, fuck..” your back arched instinctively. Encouraged by your reaction, Spencer began to roll his tongue over your clit and then down towards your entrance, moving his face and tongue at a slow pace. You watched, his hair falling onto your thighs and tickling them gently. “F-Fuck, keep going. Please.” You whined. He chuckled against you, speeding up his pace. Both of his hands were planted on your thighs, keeping them spread for easier access. His tongue worked against you harshly. Demanding. He was exploring, making sure to taste every inch of you, moving like he wouldn’t be satisfied until he had. You felt a familiar knot begin to form in your stomach, your hips bucking up towards his face. He moved one of his hands to your stomach, pressing down firmly, pinning your body down to the mattress. “Daddy, fuck, I’m gonna cum. I-I’m so close. You feel so fucking good. Fuck. So good, so good, so-“ And there it was, your 3rd orgasm of the night. Your vision became blurry, you were barely even aware of the fact that Spencer had gotten fully naked until a few moments later when you were coming back down to Earth.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me, baby. Only two more. You can do two more, can’t you?” You were weak. You guessed 3 orgasms and some spanking would do that to someone, but your body still ached for him. He approached you, his hand moving to slide your legs apart once again. You whimpered in anticipation. “Beg for me, baby. Tell daddy how badly you need him.” His voice was low, commanding.

“Please Spencer, fuck, I need it. I need to feel you inside of me. It’s all I’ve been able to think about all day, please. I want you to ruin me. You need to ruin me, please.”

Spencer seemed content with your response because after a few moments he was pushing himself inside of you, releasing a string of curses from his mouth as he did. The intrusion was piercing as he split you open, your eyes rolling back into your skull. Fuck. Yes. This was what you needed. “You’re so wet and tight for me baby.” Spencer groaned, slowly pulling out and pushing himself back in. “So fucking good. Such a good little fucktoy.” He began to find a rhythm, his hips snapping into yours aggressively. The noise of his skin meeting yours filled the room, broken only by the moans that were tumbling out of you uncontrollably now. After all of the overstimulation you had already been through, your fourth orgasm built up quickly. “No one else can make you feel like this, isn’t that right baby? Fuck. No one else can make you cum like I can.”

He was right. He was fucking right. Out of every sexual encounter you had ever had... this one stood miles above.

“No one.” You agreed. “No one else. No one but you.” Your words were coming out barely comprehendible. “Fuck. Please no more,” you began to whine, your release catching up to you. Spencer reached up, closing a hand around your neck to silence you. “Shh baby, just cum for me. Cum for me, come on. You’re so close.” Tears began to flow again as your 4th climax ripped through you, every single one of your nerves on fire. You felt like you were being torn apart. Your tears clouded your vision, but it hardly mattered. You were seeing stars. You could hear, somewhere in the distance, it felt like, Spencer praising you, his hand releasing your neck. You gasped for air, panting, and sputtering.

One more. One more. One more.

“Fuck, Spence, I can’t.” You sobbed, “I can’t.” You repeated. “You can and you will.” He replied, voice shaking. He was close too. You could tell. His thrusts were becoming more sporadic, more frantic. “You’ve been so fucking good for me, baby. Keep going.” Fuck. When your vision returned you saw him, sweat dripping down his body, his hair matted down, and you could feel yourself clench around him. Your body ached, but you could still feel it approaching. “F-Fuck. Fuck. I..” you were a mess, whimpering, shaking, all because of Spencer Reid. “I know baby. Cum with me. I wanna feel you cum around my cock.” Spencer groaned, and you didn’t have the strength left in you to fight. Your body was set aflame as you came, feeling the warmth of his own climax as well. You were panting, grasping at consciousness and you came down. Somewhere in your brain, you processed Spencer getting off of the bed. When your mind came back to you you sat up, sweat dripping down your forehead.

“Spencer..” you said softly, watching as he pulled back on his shirt. “That was...”

He nodded, lost in thought.

“Are you okay?” You asked, frowning.

“I’m fine. Just thinking about how you’re gonna hide those hickeys on Monday.”

You touched your hand to your neck. “Oh. Yeah. That might be an issue.”

You got ready to hop off the bed, but a wave of pain rushed over you. Too soon to start moving again.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Spencer’s voice was sweet now, laced with concern. “I’ll go get you some Advil or something. You have some right?” You nodded. “I can run a bath if you want, too.”

“That would be great. Thanks.” You smiled weakly.

As left the room your phone dinged, alerting you of a text message from Garcia.

‘Girls night tomorrow!! You can’t say no, Emily and JJ already said yes.’

Fuck.

taglist <3

@101donuts @annestine @spideyboix @babybloomer @welcome-to-hoeville @eldahae

[atlafan]

A Case of the Giggles - One Shot

a/n: I saw someone send someone else an ask about how they wished more people wrote about laughing or giggling during sex, and I got inspired. Enjoy! 

Words: 3K

Warnings: Fluff and Smut! 

Y/N had a problem with giggling, especially when she was nervous. She’s been like this her entire life, and she’s just accepted it. Sometimes she would have to explain to people, especially at work, that she has a nervous laugh, and that it really didn’t mean she was being a goof. Her current employer thought it was hilarious that she even mentioned it in her interview. She appreciated the honesty. It’s a good thing she didn’t like to gamble because her giggle would give her away.

Her boyfriend, Harry, thought it was the cutest thing in the world. When they first met at a mutual friend’s birthday party, she giggled when he shook her hand.

“Usually I have to work a little harder to make someone laugh.” He said, and winked at her, which made her giggle even more. “It’s nice to finally meet you, I’m Harry.”

“I’m Y/N.” She let go of his hand and tried to take a deep breath. “You and Chris work together, right?”

“Yeah, we’re office neighbors. How do you know him?”

“Childhood friends.”

“Ah, well, lucky him.” He smiled, and of course, she giggled again. He looked at her, almost as if to wonder if she really thought he was that funny.

“I’m so sorry, I…” She giggled. “I have this thing where I laugh if I’m nervous.”

“Oh!” He looked around all the other people at the bar mingling, and dancing, celebrating their friend. “I’ve made you nervous?” He sounded sort of concerned.

“Very.” She giggled.

“I’m so sorry, do you want me to-“ He stared to move away from her.

“No!” She grabbed his wrist. “It’s me, not you. You’re just, um, very handsome…” She blushed, holding back her giggle as best she could.

That was enough for Harry. He talked with her the entire night, and got her number before they parted ways. He thought maybe the giggle would fade, but on their first few dates she found it difficult not to feel nervous around him. He thought it was cute. He sort of felt bad that she had this tell, he at least could hide how nervous he felt. He liked that it made her a little more blunt about how she was feeling.

The first time he kissed her, he had taken her out to the beach for a walk at sunset. He really wanted it to be romantic. It was their third date. Their toes were in the warm sand, his arm was around her as they both looked out at the sunset. He tilted her chin up towards him, and he leaned in. She could barely get through it. She laughed so hard she cried, and she was incredibly embarrassed. Harry assured her it was fine, and he even laughed a little too.

“I ruined it, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t, just makes it more memorable. I wish you didn’t feel so nervous around me.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“It’s not a bad nervous, it’s like butterflies, the good kind. I really like you.”

“I really like you too.”

A couple of weeks and many more dates later, they made things official. Harry didn’t like playing games, and neither did Y/N, so they were both happy to be on the same page. She giggled less when they kissed, she felt so comfortable with Harry now. She still felt butterflies, but she was able to control her impulse a little more. Because he knew she would easily get nervous, though, they took the physical side of things a little slower. One of the first times they really made out, she wanted to kill herself. She just couldn’t get it together when he started to kiss on her neck. She was straddling him, rolling her hips on him, doing well, and then he started to kiss down her jaw and just under her earlobe.

“Should I stop?” He whispered as he moved some hair away from her face.

“No, it feels good…I’m sorry.” She hid her face in his shoulder. “I’m such a spaz.”

“You’re not, babe.”

“But I always ruin the moment.” She pouted.

“Do you see a speech therapist or, like, any type of therapist? Do you know why you laugh when you get nervous?”

“It’s been like this since I was a kid, and yeah, I do see someone. I mostly just warn people that I do it. I don’t know if anything happened to me…there’s really no medication I can take…”

“It doesn’t bother me, I honestly think it’s adorable.”

“But it’s so frustrating.”

“You don’t do it as much when we’re just kissing now, we just need to work on it.”

“Okay, thanks, Harry.”

She smiled and pecked his lips. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. He was right, it just took a little bit of time, and she didn’t giggle as much while they were making out or groping each other. She would mostly just smile against him, and he loved it. As long as she was having a good time with him, he didn’t really care if she needed to stop to have a giggle.

When it came time to get a tad more intimate, Y/N was feeling really proud of herself. She and Harry were making out on his couch one evening after a dinner date, she had unbuttoned his shirt to kiss down his stomach, and her hands had roamed down to his belt buckle.

“Is this okay?” She asked.

“Course, baby, go for it.” He smiled and she smiled back.

She bit her bottom lip as she undid his pants. She reached her hand inside his pants to palm him at first. She listened to how his breath hitched, feeling good about the way he was reacting to her touch. She was in the zone ready to go. She leaned up to kiss him while she reached inside his boxers to take him fully out. It was when she looked down at his full, hard length when she started giggling, which turned into a full laugh. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, she felt terrible, especially when she saw him growing softer.

“No, please!” She gripped him. “I’m so sorry!” She kept giggling.

“Y/N, Y/N!” He snatched her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Please, try to take a breath.”

She does her best to slow her breathing, but every time she looked down she had to bite back a giggle.

“Just, maybe don’t look at it?’ He suggested.

“I’m so sorry, I’m not laughing because anything’s wrong, it’s just so big and it took me by surprise is all. I really want to blow you, I just got a little nervous because I’m not sure how it’s supposed to fit down my throat.” Her cheeks were red from embarrassment, and her eyes were a little red from the tears that had formed from her laughter.

“No pressure, babe, just take what you can…I know it’s a lot.”

“I may keep my eyes closed…”

“Or just look at me…I sort of like the eye contact.” He blushed.

“Oh, Harry, I wouldn’t be able to keep it together if I looked up and saw you looking at me, I’m sorry.”

“Alright, uh, just try it your way then. It’ll still feel good.” He smiled reassuringly and she got to work.

She closed her eyes as she got her tongue on his tip. She worked over his slit before getting her mouth around him. She pumped what she couldn’t fit in her mouth. His head rolled back as she worked on him. It was a good blow job.

Y/N did a lot for Harry, and he desperately wanted to return the favor, but she just wasn’t ready. She was petrified of ruining the moment. He just wanted to make her feel good. They had been seeing each other for a few months now, he was in love with her, and he wanted to tell her, show her. So, Harry invited her out to his cabin by the lake for a weekend away. She was incredibly excited to have a long weekend away with her man. Things were going so well, her relationships never went this well. Most guys got annoyed with her giggling. Harry was so cool about it!

“Got everything?” He asks on the way up.

“Mhm, double checked my packing list.” She rests her hand on his as he drives. “This’ll be great, babe. Gonna put that new bathing suit I showed you to good use.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to see you wear it.” He kisses her hand. “We’ll have our own little private beach too. I rented a boat for the weekend, we can have a little picnic on the lake.”

“You’re so romantic, I love you.” She let it slip, and then she bursts into laughter, clasping a hand over her mouth. Harry slowly pulls over, and parks the car. “What are you doing?! We’re on the highway.”

“What did you just say?” He turns his body to look at her, squeezing her hand.

“I…I said I love you, Harry.”

Just as she’s about to start laughing again, he cups her face and brings her in for a kiss. It’s tender, but needy. He sucks on her bottom lip before letting her go.

“I love you too.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do!” He laughs. “Was the whole point of bringing you up here, I was gonna tell you this weekend.”

“Great, another thing I ruined.” She pouts.

“No! No, babe, this was perfect. Takes all the pressure off now, I swear.”

“Okay.” She smiles.

He kisses her again before pulling back onto the road. He was right, it did take a lot of the pressure off. They each must have said it five more times on the car ride alone. He couldn’t get enough of it. They both get everything into the cabin, and then he shows her around. She uses the bathroom to freshen up, and then they spend the evening eating food off the grill, and cuddling by a small fire. They were curled up in a blanket looking up at the stars.

“Wanna head in?” He asks her.

“Yeah, that bed looks really comfortable.”

“It is.”

They hold hands as they walk inside. They both sit down on the bed and start kissing. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d be spending the night together, but Harry hoped it would be the first time she’d let him travel a little farther south. She had gotten used to him feeling her breasts, she liked the way he would knead them and tweak her nipples. She even made it through him sucking on them, but that took a bit for her to work up to.

His tongue was in her mouth and she couldn’t help but moan into him. She tugs at the hem of his shirt, and he breaks the kiss to get it off.

“Yours too?” He asks, just to make sure.

“Mhm.” She smiles and takes her shirt off. Her bra was cute, a lacey black number.

“This is so cute, baby.” He pouts. “Did you buy it for me?”

“I saw it while I was shopping for that bathing suit you can’t wait for me to wear.” She giggles.

“Is it part of, um, a matching set?”

“It is.” She giggles again. “Would you like to see?”

“God, yes.”

She stands up and undoes her pants. She lets them drop to the floor. His eyes gaze at her cheeky, lace, black underwear. She turns around in a circle so he can catch the curve of her bum. She looks down at him, and straddles his lap.

“What do you think?”

“You’re so beautiful.”

She cups his jaw and kisses him. She rolls her hips down on him and he groans against her.

“Will you let me make you feel good tonight?”

She blushes and bites her bottom lip harshly to stifle her giggle. She would not ruin the moment tonight. She takes a deep breath and nods her head yes. He lifts her up and lays her on the bed. He hovers over her and kisses on her neck, and down to the plushy parts of her breasts that were spilling out of the top of her bra. He’d get it off her later, he had more important things to do. He kisses down her stomach, and he can feel her tense up underneath him. He looks up at her, and she sends him a smile. He was surprised at how well she was doing.  He thought too soon, though, because when he started to kiss on one of her hips, a giggle broke out.

“Sensitive spot, keep going.” She smiles.

“So, I can take these off?”

“Mhm.” Her cheeks were even more red now. He felt terrible that he was doing this to her, but at the same time it was nice to know how much of an effect he had.

He hooks his fingers into her panties and drags them down her legs, tossing them aside. Her knees close quickly, and he looks at her.

“Babe.”

“Sorry.” She takes a deep breath. “You sure you want to? I could just bl-“

“Nope, sorry, tonight’s about you. Wanna show you how much I love you, Y/N.”

She starts giggling, but is able to control it as she opens her legs for him. She wanted this just as much, she just needed to calm down.

“Wanna suck on my fingers so they’re nice and wet for you?”

She nods and opens her mouth for him. She licks and sucks around his middle and index fingers. She smirked at him as she did it, and he just looked at her adoringly. He loved his baby girl so much. He retracts his fingers from her mouth and gently slides them up and down her slit. He rubs them around her folds, and instead of a laugh or a giggle like he was expecting, she lets out soft moans and whimpers. He uses his thumbs to spread her apart further so he can properly see her clit. He rubs circles into it and watches her face. Her mouth was open and her head was rolled back into the pillow.

He adjusts himself so he’s laying on his stomach before her. His fingers play around her center as he leans in. Just as he gets his tongue on her, she bursts out laughing. He looks up at her and sees her looking down at him.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t know you were going to do that.” She giggles.

“What did you think I was doing down here?” He chuckles.

“I don’t know, I thought you were just going to finger me or something!” She laughs, tears in her eyes now. “I’m fine, I’m fine, go ahead.”

He smiles and shakes his head. He tries to flick his tongue on her clit, but she bursts out laughing again. Harry never got annoyed with her, but right now he just wished she could clam down.

“Just ignore me.” She says. “I’ll be able to get a grip, I’m sure of it.”

Harry takes a deep breath and tries to lick her through her giggles, she even bites down on her forearm to try to stifle her stupid laughter. She found herself having a full on fit, and she bursts into tears. Harry sits up to look at her. Now he really felt terrible.

“Hey.” He reaches to wipe her tears away. “It’s alright, we don’t have to do this tonight.”

“But I want you so bad! This is so frustrating, I bet it would feel really good.” She sniffles.

“You weren’t nervous when you thought I was just going to finger you. Maybe I could try that first to relax you, and then try my tongue again.”

“What’s the use? I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to dump me for some girl you could easily do these things with.” She pouts and wipes her eyes.

“Baby, don’t say stuff like that. I love you, I meant it when I said it. You’re worth it, you’re more than worth it. I can’t even think about wanting to be with anyone else.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” He kisses her lips and she pulls him close to her.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. Let’s just have fun, yeah? This is supposed to be a good time. No pressure.”

“I really do want you to fuck me.”

“I have to prep you first, babe.” He kisses on her neck as his hand drags back now between her thighs. He slowly works his middle finger inside her. “How’s that?” He could tell she was doing better from the way she was sinking into the bed.

“Good.”

He works another finger into her and curls them up as he pumps them in and out. Her head rolls back again as he sucks on one of her nipples. He keeps her distracted with his skilled fingers as he kisses down her body again. He carefully wraps his mouth around her clit and sucks. Before she can really laugh or giggle, her throat gets caught in a moan. She pushes herself up on her elbows to look at him better. She was amazed by him, and what he was doing felt so good.

“Fuck, Harry!”

His eyes snap up to hers. She never really used words when they would do things like this. She’d moan and whimper, but she’s never said his name like that before. Harry loved talking dirty, but he kept it to a minimum because he just figured it would make her too nervous, and then she’d feel bad for giggling. He smirks at her as he laps around at her clit, his fingers still working wonders inside her.

“Oh my god, you’re gonna make come, ugh!” She throws her head back and grinds her hips up towards him.

He found himself pressing his lower half into the mattress. He had never seen her like this, and it was doing something to him. She moans his name loudly as she comes to her release, a few tears rolling down her cheeks. He crawls back up her body so he’s hovering over her face.

“You did so well.” He kisses her. “I’m so proud of you.”

“It felt so good.” She kisses him and wraps her arms around his neck. “Please, fuck me, Harry.”

They had already discussed birth control and everything, and he trusted that she took her pill every day, so there was really no need for a condom. He could always pull out if she wanted him to. He lines himself up with her, and slowly starts to push inside. Her nails dig into his shoulders as he continues to go in inch by inch.

“Goddammit, you’re so tight.” He groans. She bites her bottom lip and tries to breathe. “You feel so fucking good.” He says into her ear as he starts to move.

“I’m…I’m…” She starts giggling. “I’m so wet.” She bursts into laughter and so does he. He rocks in and out of her as they both laugh. “Sorry, I was trying to say something sexy, but…”

“It was plenty sexy.” He kisses on her neck. “And you are really wet.” He nibbles on her earlobe and she grits her teeth.

He was really stretching her out and it felt amazing. She wraps her legs around his waist, digging her heels into his ass. He kneads one of her breasts and it causes her to moan out again. Everything felt sensitive, she couldn’t take it anymore. His tip was hitting her g-spot in the most perfect way. She does something that surprises him. One of her hands slides up, and gently grips his throat. Her eyes were screwed shut, and he could tell from the way she was tightening around his dick that she was close.

“Oh, fuck!” She cries out as she comes around his cock. Her grips on his throat tightens as she rides it out.

His eyes roll into the back of his head, and he pulls out quickly to come on her stomach. He tries to catch his breath, but her hand is still on him. She was too busy looking at the come on her belly to notice.

“Babe.” He says weakly, and puts his hand over hers.

“Oh!” She giggles. “Sorry.” She lets go of him.

“No, that’s okay.” He leans in and kisses her cheek. “Let me get something to clean you up, be right back.”

She lays there waiting for him, and he comes back swiftly with a towel to clean her up. He tosses it to the floor and hops back on to the bed. He pulls her close to him, covering face with kisses. It makes her giggle, but not in a nervous way. It was genuine. She rolls onto her side and props herself up on her elbow.

“How do you feel?” He asks, rubbing at her side.

“Really good, that was fun.” She smiles. “Sorry if my giggles got in the way.”

“You don’t need to keep apologizing, I like laughing with you. You’re contagious.”

“But…doesn’t it take away from the passion?”

“Not really.” He shrugs. “Sex doesn’t need to be so serious, it’s fun, people should laugh more when they fuck.” He yanks her closer to him and buries his face in her chest. She plays with his hair as he nestles in. He plants kisses on her and she loves it. “Can’t get enough of you.” He mumbles and then looks up at her. “M’really happy, Y/N.”

“Me too.” She kisses his forehead and his eyes flutter closed.

She wondered if she’d get a chance to wear her bathing suit and go on the boat as he promised, or if they’d end up staying in the bed the entire weekend. She was spending time with her boyfriend, who loved every inch of her, inside and out, so it didn’t really matter with either way.