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#learning how to mess with tone curves and the like

k3n-dyll · 1 month

Text

Vouyer [Abby A.]

||Men, minors, and ageless DNI

CW: 18+, wlw, a lot of porn - a pinch of plot if you squint and turn your head, subbottom!abby, domtop!reader, Abby getting caught, masturbation, voyeurism cus reader watches her for a hot minute, fingering(A!receiving), tribbing, perv!reader and perv!abby kinda, overstimulation, Abby cries a lil bit

AN: I feel like my brain fizzed out near the end idk. I think I'm cooked. Anyways, hope this doesn't suck ass as much as my brain is telling me it does!

Masterlist. Divider creds DON'T FORGET ABOUT PALESTINE

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ "Just like that- fuck" the words escape her lips, sounding strained and breathless. A thin layer of sweat coats her toned body as she fills herself up to the best of her ability, her thick fingers ramming in and out of her used, sloppy cunt as she chases her orgasm for the third time tonight.

This was not how she had planned for her night to go, but if you could have only seen just how pretty you'd looked; drenched in sweat from head to toe, clothes sticking to every curve of your bruised and bloodied body after such a close call on patrol earlier that day. She'd almost compromised herself just to get a glimpse of you looking like that. Her piercing blue eyes tracked your every movement, once the threat - a pack of infected that had attacked while you were both searching for supplies - was gone.

Or at least she'd thought they were at the time until she felt a pair of gnarled and decaying hands grab onto her shoulders. She killed the thing herself, of course, knocking the stalker off balance with one hard whack of a steel pipe before throwing it onto the ground, forcing the heel of her boot down onto its sprouting head with a splat. Not realizing that it was you she had been distracted by, you gave her a disapproving eye roll and she winced.

It was her own fault you weren't that fond of her, the blonde has ignored you since you first showed up at the WLF a few months back. Even when you became roommates, Abby's demeanor towards you was always cold and disinterested. It was stupid but she figured it was best. She was unable to even think about saying a word to you without her palms sweating. She just knew she'd fuck up and stumble over her words, making herself look weak in front of you and she couldn't have that.

When Abby learned that you were going to spend part of your night drinking with Manny, Owen, and Nora, she took the opportunity to lie.

" 'm tired. Think I'm gonna just go to bed" she had mumbled, feigning exhaustion, going so far as to force a yawn out before she walked back to the room. Alone.

The girl didn't make it five minutes without touching herself, getting comfortable in bed, and shoving her hand down her underwear. Dumbly, she figured that maybe if she just got off once, she could get the image of you out of her brain.

That was how she got where she is now. Naked, driving her middle and ring fingers as deep as she can get them, pumping them in and out of her cunt, her other hand joining as she rubs feverishly over her sensitive clit. The scene is downright pornographic, the sloshing sounds coming from Abby's body as she fucks herself stupid on her own fingers, her jaw slack, your name spilling from her soft lips in sinful prayer.

She wants it to be you so bad, it's almost pathetic.

She can't bring herself to stop - she just knows it'd feel so much better if your hands replaced her own and the rest of her body seems to agree with that thought. So much so that every time she tries to stop or give herself a break that ache comes back full force, a heartbeat forming between her thick thighs. It gets so bad that she considers walking to your side of the room and grabbing one of your t-shirts because at this point your scent could get her there.

"Jus' one more, one more, baby pleasepleaseplease - holy shit"

That third orgasm hits Abby like a truck, her begging eventually becoming a mess of incoherent babbling under her breath, her body twitching as she comes down from her high. Again. And again, it isn't enough. She can't take her mind off of just how fucking good you would look on top of her - god - the mere thought of having your pretty pussy slotted up against hers is enough to make her crave more.

Abby lets out a deep sigh and plops her head back down onto the pillow underneath her as she tries to catch her breath, thinking maybe she should just try to sleep it off. Despite her better judgement though, she finds herself with the pads of her fingers back on her puffy, pulsing clit, stroking herself in languid circular motions.

You stood in the entryway of your room, peeking your head in the door to watch as Abby fucking Anderson of all people split herself on her fingers, letting out the prettiest moans as she chases her release. You knew that you should probably just close the door and quietly sneak away. Go back to the mess hall with your group, maybe pretend you forgot something, and then conveniently "lose track of time" while you were there so that your roommate could finish her little "session".

You really were going to leave. As a matter of fact, you were halfway through closing the door when you heard something that made you stop in your tracks. It was Abby.

And she was moaning your name.

The sound was unmistakable as it was one of the only words you were able to fully recognize through her stupor of bated breaths and blissed-out whining. The frigid, unstoppable force of a soldier that had been ignoring your existence for months was actually begging for you, crying out your name over and over again as she fucked herself.

You found yourself biting your lip at the sound, and before you knew it, you were tip-toeing all the way into your shared room. You practically held your breath as you closed the door behind you, freezing completely once it clicked shut and lightly punching the air in silent celebration once you had confirmed you managed to sneak in undetected.

It was all so perverted, and yet you couldn't stop staring

You were leaning up against the wall beside the door, trying your best to be quiet and resist the urge to shove your hand down your own pants as you watched Abby's naked body convulse under her fingers when she came, eyes trailing over her body as she rode out her high.

It became clear pretty quickly that she'd been at this for a while, unable to satisfy herself completely. You watched as she began to start herself up again, her hand making its way back down between her thighs, her legs twitching still from her previous climax. From what you can see of her face, she seems a bit frustrated, her eyebrows knotted together in almost anger as she lazily works her fingers on her clit. She looks and sounds so precious that, before you can fully think it through, you speak.

"Still not finished?"

Abby nearly falls out of her bed with how quickly she shoots upward, covering herself with her blanket, a deep red blush fanning out along her freckled cheeks. It doesn't take much for her to realize that you heard her, your expression telling her everything she needed to know.

"I was, uh-..."

"Yeah, I heard...and saw" you interrupt, making your way over to the blonde's bed, unable to contain your amusement at the situation as your eyes trail over her.

" 'S this why you've been avoiding me, baby?"

She just stares at you, not fully knowing why she can't bring herself to do anything - to deny your suspicion, yell at you, or do something that would make her stop feeling so vulnerable right now. But she just looks up at you, mouth slightly agape.

"You could have just asked me for some help with that if you wanted it, y'know." you continue, gently gripping her under her chin to make her look at you.

Her jaw clenches, and for a moment, Abby considers pulling away from you. Getting mad and reasserting her dominance or something but you both know that isn't going to happen. You catch a glimpse of her fingers, glistening and wrinkly from how long she's been trying to get herself off, and your suspicions are confirmed which only emboldens you to go further. You lean down a bit closer, your face so close to hers that your noses nearly touch.

"You can't satisfy yourself no matter how hard you try, can you?"

Abby squirms a little but she shakes her head slightly in response, eyes breaking contact with yours but your hand never releases her jaw. You've never seen her look this exposed before - not only in terms of her nakedness but she just looked so vulnerable and small right now, despite her actual size.

You press a kiss to her lips, and she practically melts into you, allowing you to lay her back down on the mattress and crawl on top of her, your hand caught in her loosened braid. The other hand wanders down between her legs, eager to feel the sticky mess that shes turned herself into over the thought of you.

The sweet little whines she gives you as you circle your fingers along her clit are so unfamiliar coming from her but oh so welcome as opposed to her usual stoicism. You almost feel bad for the fact that shes had to wait for so long to finally get that release shes in desperate need of. A release that can only seem to be triggered by your hand.

If Abby wasn't already embarrassed for having been caught, she was sure as hell embarrassed with how quickly you got her to cum on your fingers. You've barely gotten the chance to get them inside of her before her irises roll back, head thrown onto the pillow beneath her as her body twitches in ecstasy.

"S-sorry, I-"

You see her begin to apologize but she's cut off completely at the sight of you sucking her essence off of your fingers, her words being yanked right from her mouth as her arousal comes back with a force. She knows she's way too sensitive to do anything else, but the thought of saying no to you right now doesnt even cross her mind as an option once you start pulling off your clothes.

It's all she can do to keep her hands to herself while you strip. Those vivid blue eyes are glued to your body, enamored by the perfection being uncovered in front of her. You place yourself back on top of her, hiking her leg up over your shoulder and lowering yourself until her cunt is pressed flush against your own. You let out a simultaneous groan at the feeling, grinding yourself down onto her with little regard for how sensitive she is.

"Hnmn- fuck" Abby's hips buck upward involuntarily, her body telling her that she's had enough, but it feels too good to stop.

She couldn't tell you it was too much if she wanted to anyway, every attempted word coming out of her mouth as incoherent whines and half-finished syllables. You watch her face intently as a few tears begin to make their way down her reddened cheeks and it only makes you pick up the pace, pressing wet kisses against the side of her calf as your clit perfectly ruts against hers with each thrust.

"You've wanted this so fuckin' bad, haven't you?" You tease her through gritted teeth, the words spilling out without much thought.

"Want me to fuck you till you cant fuckin breathe, hm?"

All that comes out of Abby in response are breathless "yes's" all jumbled into one word followed desperate little whines, her fingernails digging into the flesh of your hips as if she's afraid you'll stop if she lets go.

"G'na cu- ohmygod" she tries to warn but the poor girl can barely think. You hear her loud and clear though, making a point to apply a bit more pressure, the sloppy noises coming from your bodies moving against one another in tandem bringing you close as well.

The orgasm that results sends electricity through your body, pleasure that's only heightened by the uncontained scream that pulls from Abby's throat when she cums with you, drenching your inner thighs even more. She doesn't even seem to care if anyone hears her, too fucked out to even try to keep her mouth shut. Mercifully, you take the responsibility away from her, crashing your lips onto hers and muffling the sound in the hard, wet kiss.

The euphoria lingers even after you've slowed to a stop, heavy, labored breathing and Abby's soft whimpers the only sounds that occupy the room. A low chuckle escapes you as you pepper soft kisses along her cheeks, your thumb accompanying to wipe up her pretty tears.

AN: One thing I suck at doing is thinking of a way to fuckin close these

reblogs appreciated☆requests open

Almost forgot, taglist: @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery, @ikoinsblog

#lesbian #wlw #☆kennie's works #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x female reader #abby the last of us #the last of us #abby tlou2 #tlou2 smut #tlou2

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blingblong55 · 10 months

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The Mess we made - Colonel König nsfw

This is based on a request:

May I humbly request your writing talent and creativity of a dirty, nasty, hardcore smut you can come up with based on colonel König x reader, please? His back scratched, reader’s in deep with pleasure

F!Reader, smut, 18+, MDNI ಠ_ಠ, p-in-v, solidier!Reader, sexual! relationship, unprotected sex

There was something about the way that you looked in your uniform that had your CO touching himself at night. The way that your shirt would get tighter around your chest area, how your curves looked like when you sparred with a few of your teammates and how you looked like, at least in his imagination, on top of him.

Lately, you have been giving your attention to some new recruit, he was actually quite kind and funny. König didn't like how you looked beside that man. So, the only way he could ensure others would know you were busy, with him, was by making you train for hours on end. At times, he'd wake you up earlier, knocking on your door and using his best drill sgt. voice.

Today one of the other COs ordered you to train with the recruit, said he was lacking in hand to hand combat, and since everyone on base knew König was enhancing your skills lately, they figured you'd be best option.

You and the newbie were in the sparring room, both exhausted but laughing. "I swear you'll leave me aching for days, dude." a small chuckle escaping him. "Yeah, sorry, didn't mean to throw ya into the mat like that."

Once you both finished that small break, you continued to spar, teaching him new moves and giving a few examples along the way. His hand on your waist as he was now learning a new move to bring someone down, your eyes locking as you spoke. "Once your hands find the enemies side, you'll have to-"

"Hands off her!" König spoke as he approached you both, "Sergeant, in my office, now." you and the newbie both pulled from the other, you with a confused look just obey his order. König stayed behind, giving the newbie a newer move. Definitely not using this as the perfect excuse to let his anger out of the poor man.

You sat on one of the chairs in his office, toying with the hem of your shirt. You hear some whistling, König, based on the rhythm. He walked in, closing the door behind him, he stood by the window, looking out, "That man doesn't know how to fight, much."

"That's why I was teaching him, sir." You try to at least, in some way, defend the poor newbie. Anytime he wanted to have you, he would, but that was usually in the comfort of either of your rooms. Hence to why you were calling him 'sir'. "I never told you to teach him," he turns to you, closing the blinds, "Why don't you ever listen to me, schatz?" he asked you, he sat on the chair next to yours, towering over you. His voice more softer now, unlike back in the mats, low and gentler with how he delivered his words.

"What do you mean, sir?"

He has never spoke to you, not in this tone. "Why can't I never have you, for myself?" a hand on touching your chin, him and you making eye contact, "Uhm, sir-" you weren't sure why he was doing this, especially here. When you two established this 'relationship', you two agreed to only have the other do what they'd please behind closed quarters.

"Don't talk, little one, just listen."

You nod, not knowing what else to do. Part of you was into this, the other part of you was scared. There were times when he would do something that would have you weak at the knees. How his arms in that muscle shirt would be flexed after lifting some ammo boxes, or when he would workout, how he would lift so effortlessly.

"That's my girl, always obeying me," a hand snaked to the back of your neck, the other still on your chin, "Now, you follow as I say, ja?"

You nod, willing to do whatever he says at this point. "Good, start to take that ugly jacket off," he stands back up, finally going to sit on his chair. You removed the army jacket, staring at him, not knowing what to do next. "Hm, seems to me you must remove the rest, can't have you like this." he leaned back in his chair, smirking under that mask. "But sir-"

He shook his head, "tsk tsk, I don't want excuses, take it off." As he watched you hesitate, he went up to you, hand on your shoulder, "You want to make me happy, don't you?" You nod, his hand at the button of your trousers, slowly, he unbuttoned them, he then removed your belt. His hand digging into your trousers, the other hand on your thigh, "Hm, seems to me I need to see you, all of you, so stand up for me," he grabbed your wrist, pulling you up and making you stand up, "now take it off and don't test my patience." he commanded.

You soon stripped from your close, he couldn't take this view, especially not when he knew that stupid newbie had his hands on what König calls his. "Bend over my desk, c'mon, do it." now he was definitely desperate to have a taste of you. You bend over, his hand rubs your bare ass, the other hand snakes to the front of your panties. Warm hand toying with your wet slick.

"So needy, hm" the other hand still rubbing your ass. Lips on your neck, licking, biting and sucking the soft skin. "König not here, please." you begged, because what if someone walked in or what if someone heard your moans.

"Thats the fun part, schatz" he whispers against your ear, nibbling at it. He wanted it to be final, for everyone to hear you call out of his name. Hear the pathetic cries you let out as he made you his. Hips thrusting in you, for everyone to hear but not see. Not yet at least.

He lowered you panties to your ankles, spit on his mouth and rubbed his fingers against the entrance of your aching entrance. "Hm," he looked at the old hickeys he had left on your back just days ago, "seems you're due for more." He lowered his trousers, played with himself as he watched how you would desperately look back. Eyes looking from the door to him. Drove him crazy knowing you two could get caught, but that was the fun of it, wanted to experience it so others would know about you and him.

Your body did him wonders, made him play with himself when you weren't around and at meetings when you would sit across from him, looking up at the board with those sweet innocent eyes of you. The same look he wanted to corrupt, make it change just for him. He didn't, like how you were so innocent, how you knew so little but did so much.

He parted your legs and without any foreplay or warning, he slid his now aching self in you. He knew his size was big, that you could only take so much. But today he wasn't playing nice, not when his favourite toy let another man touch her. Although the touches the newbie and you had were innocent, he didn't like them one bit. Now, here you were, taking him all of him.

You were so small compared to him so taking him like this was hard, yet it felt so...right and good. He started to thrust in slow, opening you for him. Hands on your hips, you still bent on the desk, your hands gripping the edges of his desk. Small moans could be heard coming from you as you tried to not make much noise.

"Louder, I want them to hear you." He definitely wanted to make a show out of you, humiliate you as he took you, knowing the other hungry men would be outside his door, listening as you took every part of him. He forced your mouth open, hand on your mouth as the other still guided your hips.

Your ass becoming red as his thrusts go harder and faster. He fucked the anger and frustration on you. Degraded every second he spends in you. "Such a fuckin' slut for me," another few slaps on your now raw ass, "what a slut you are, taking me like this. I bet you like it." He dragged another moan from you, this time louder, just like he wanted it to be. His accent coming off more stronger by each thrust. Once he knew you'd be willing to keep moaning loud for him, his hand slides to your wet cunt. His thick fingers start to toy with you, "I bet you like being treated like a whore." You couldn't respond, your brain in mush as waves of pleasure started to create through your body.

He slammed his hips on your ass, his cock deep in you, he leaned in, biting your back and shoulder. His moans and yours echoing around the room. He knew he was close and he didn't mind if you were or not. Today, his needs were above your own.

He pulled out, pre-cum dripping from you and him. He sits on his desk chair, removing his shirt, knowing this view would be your only reward. A finger motioning for you to sit on him, he wanted to see those tits of yours bounce as he came in you. You, like his toy obeyed. He lets you guide his throbbing cock inside, once your hands met it, you slide it in. Causing more moans to leave your sweet lips. More for the men outside of the door to hear.

You start to ride him, his lips meet your hardened nipples. He bites and licks them. Your moans of pleasure and pain, causing him to feel himself get closer. Your hands on his back, gently holding yourself as you ride him. "König, t-this is....too much" you could feel yourself get more and more sensitive.

But since today, he wanted to please himself and not you, he didn't care. Instead, his hands on your hips, making you go faster, he slapped your ass every now and then. Causing more moans and cries to come out. Your nails digging deeper into his bare back. You started to leave red marks across it. This only fed his needs more. "Look at you," he said as he pulled back, eyes staring into your, mascara running down as it mixed with your sweat, "takin' me so good." The praises finally began.

He knew he was getting closer, so he thrusted faster in you. Your inner thighs would for sure be sore by tomorrow. He leans in, lips on your shoulder as he slowly licked it. Hands still on your hips, at times they be on your ass, spreading your ass so he could feel himself finally fit inside your tight cunt.

Thrusts becoming more sloppy, pre-cum on your and his thighs. He bites into your shoulder, moaning and whimpering can be heard. Your nails leaving more red trails across his back.

His hips bucking as he started to cum inside of you. Filling your walls with his white seed. "Oh schatz, the things you do to me." he let out a small moan. He cups your face, your brows furrowed, tears running down as he wipes them away. "Look at you, such a mess," his voice now more soft, letting his cum drip from in you to your thighs, "you know I don't allow you to look like such mess." He kisses your forehead, he leans and grabs a napkin from his desk, he gently wipes your now dry mascara tears from you. "You did well, liebling." he kissed your cheek and then leaves continuous kisses on your lips.

He moves the hair from your face and tucks it behind your ear. He hugs you, his head on your now bare breasts. "Such a good girl." he whispers, a hand on your back as the other holds your ass, rubbing it slowly, as if he was now caring for it, unlike a few minutes ago.

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

A/N: I hope this was smutty enough. If it wasn't not to worry, I have like 6 other smut requests to write.

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netegf · 1 year

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Hey can i make a blurb request for neteyam? maybe forced proximity trope where they get locked in the lab accident and Neteyam gets anxious bc he hates humans and reader smooches him to calm him down even tho they’re just friends (but they secretly love eachother ofc)

breathing exercise

pairing: neteyam x reader

“Neteyam, please stop picking your fingernails.”

Under shoddy lab fluorescents that make your eyes burn, Neteyam shifts in his position on the countertop, crossing his arms with a passive, but lazy, glare.

“You put us in this mess.” He replies pointedly. “You don’t get to tell me how to deal with it.”

That stings. But you wedge your bottom lip between your teeth, deciding maybe, just maybe, it was deserved.

In fairness, you should have left when Neteyam wanted to. But there was something about the way he looked under the blue lights – so pretty. And surrounding. Like his skin had no ending. It was something you wanted to commit to memory, and the extra couple minutes you’d coaxed out of him felt worth it in the moment.

But that quickly changed when the grimace set on Neteyam’s lips.

When Norm said that everything needed to be sterile. That no one could come in or out because of maintenance on the link units. That Neteyam would be trapped here, in a place that made his skin crawl, all evening.

“Teyam…” you trail off, peering up to meet his eyes which now soften at your dejected tone. “It was an accident. I’m sorry.”

At that, the rigidness of his spine seems to crumble.

His hard expression morphs into a pout and he outstretches a shaky hand to squeeze your own in a silent gesture of reconciliation. Still, the tension between his eyebrows remains.

“I told my dad I’d meet him ten minutes ago. He’s going to be pissed.” Sighing, he runs his slender fingers through his braids and attempts to keep his attention away from the bustling laboratory behind him.

The problem is... it’s not working very well. His breathing is uneven. His knee keeps bouncing up and down. His eyes are glued down at his thigh where your hands are joined.

“He will understand.” You reassure, but he doesn’t seem quite convinced, eyes still screwed tightly shut. “Stay calm, Neteyam. We’re gonna get out of here soon."

“I am calm!”

Now, you stare at him pointedly, and Neteyam slumps his shoulders sheepishly, flashing an apologetic smile. “Okay… maybe I’m not.”

Taking in the appearance of the scared and comically large warrior in front of you, a small smirk sparks like a conductor on your lips. You unwind your hand from his and grip the sides of his chin, drawing your warm faces closer together.

“We just need to find you a way to relax.”

“Mhm.” Yellow eyes travel down your face, stopping abruptly at the curve of your lips. “And how’s that?”

When your mouth collides onto his own, moving with fervor and electricity, he assumes the question must have been rhetorical. The burning kisses breathe new life into him – hands shoot up from his lap and find their rightful places, cradling your cheek and stroking your hair.

“How are we feeling?” You ask cheekily after pulling apart, mouth still hovering over his. So close, but not nearly enough.

“Distressed. Very.” He has a stupid smile, laboured breaths catching hard in his chest. “Probably need more... of that.”

Then his lips are learning the shape of yours – kissing again, and again, and again. Chasing the air that calms him like it comes from within you.

a/n: ty for the request!! still getting my sea legs with them lolol 🥰💞

#neteyam x reader #atwow x reader #neteyam #avatar 2 #u responded so quickly u are a legend 🙏🏼#ty for letting me escape life for a sec hehe 😇#i hope this is oky! 😭#1k

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moonstruckme · 7 months

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Hii! I really love ur writing<3

Could i request Sirius black x fem!reader where her hair is really fluffy but after she has showered her hair is like kindy wavy-ish but she brushes it out and it becomes really fluffy. But then Sirius sees that and is like "u have curly hair" but reader is like "nope". So sirius convinces her and shows her his hair routine and it turns out she does have curly hair and all the fluff and everything?

English is not my first languages so I hope that I'm being clear about what i mean😭 sorry for any mistakes.

Feel free to ignore this if you want<33

No worries my love, this was super clear! I didn't learn how to make my curly hair look good until a few years ago, so this was sooo relatable haha! Thanks for requesting :)

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Sirius knocks as you step out of his shower, drying off one leg and then the other with the towel he’d given you.

“Sorry, angel, could I get in there for a sec?” He calls through the door. “I forgot my moisturizer.”

“Sure, just a minute,” you reply, quickly toweling off before wrapping yourself in a robe. “Okay, you’re good.”

“Thanks,” Sirius says, steam whooshing out as he opens the door. He grabs a little jar from the counter, toting it about before starting back the way he came, but he stops before he reaches the door. Sirius looks at you for a moment, his lips curving slightly upward into one of those soft smiles you love so much. “You look so pretty like this,” he says.

You give him a tiny grin in return, pulling the robe tighter over your body self-consciously. “Thanks, Siri.”

“Is…” his eyebrows come together. “Is that what your hair always looks like when it’s wet?”

You look down at your ends, half expecting them to be purple from the expression on your boyfriend’s face. “Um, yeah?”

He crosses his arms, tongue pressing into his cheek thoughtfully. “And what do you usually do to it after you shower?”

“I dunno.” You pick your discarded towel up again. “Brush it? That’s it, really.”

You start to run the towel over your hair, scrubbing out the moisture, and Sirius lunges for you as if you’re holding a weapon to your head instead. “No, stop!”

“What?”

“You can’t rub it like that.” He snatches the towel from you, something like offense in his tone. “That’s nearly the worst thing you can do for curly hair.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Well then lucky for me that I don’t have curly hair.”

“I think you do,” Sirius says, hanging the towel on a hook. “Or wavy, at least. Look at it right now, it looks almost like mine.”

The mirror is too foggy to see in, but you don’t need to. “It’s not like yours, though,” you say, a touch of envy creeping into your voice. “Yours is so pretty and shiny. You’ve seen mine, it gets all frizzy when it’s dry.”

“Okay, compliment heard and accepted.” Sirius grins at you. “But I think your hair just gets like that because you brush it, darling. Let me play with it, please?”

You hesitate. You’ve always shied away from messing with your hair because, as much as it frustrates you, you know how to deal with it the way it is. Oil, buns, plaits. You’d rather have the devil you know than whatever might result from angering it.

But Sirius does seem to know an impressive amount about hair care. His counter is littered with products that testify to that. And you don’t think he’s right, but if he is, and your hair could look anything like his…

“Fine,” you sigh, and Sirius beams at you, taking you by the shoulders and bringing you in front of the mirror.

“Alright, I’m gonna talk you through it, dollface,” he promises. “I mean, I’ll do it for you every time you shower if you want me to, but I’ll give you the details just in case you wanna know later.”

He begins by rewetting your hair under the faucet, instructing you to only brush it while it’s sopping wet. He introduces you to leave-in conditioner, curl cream, mousse, telling you what each of them do and weaving them into your locks with skilled fingers. You can’t help but admire the concentrated set of his brows as he works, the way his dark hair gleams under the fluorescent light. However this turns out, you like having his hands in your hair like this. You might ask him to do it again just for that.

“There we go,” he says, affixing one of his t-shirts to hold your hair close to your head. “We’ll leave that on for a bit, and when it comes off we should have a decent idea of how it’s gonna look when it’s dry.”

You smile at him, and Sirius fixes you with a look that’s unbelievably fond. “Normally, this is when I do my skin routine, while I’ve got my hair out of the way,” he says, speaking softly though there’s no one else around to hear. “Want me to do yours for you, lovely girl?”

You feel your face warm, but you don’t care if he sees, the affection between you too great to be a well-kept secret. “That’d be nice, thanks.”

Sirius’ touch is gentle as he goes over your face with a warm washcloth, smoothing your various products into your skin while you do your best not to preen.

“So pretty,” he murmurs once he’s done, planting a kiss on your freshly moisturized cheek. You wouldn’t be surprised if you were glowing from the inside out.

You chase him, capturing his lips with yours, and the both of you giggle at the absurdity of it, kissing whilst sitting on his bathroom counter, you all wet in a robe and him fully clothed.

“Alright,” Sirius says, stroking your jaw as a consolation when he breaks the kiss. “I think your hair should be ready to come down.”

You find yourself almost excited as he unwraps the t-shirt from your hair, tracking the progress of his grin while he squeezes the last bits of moisture from your ends before taking you by the shoulders.

“Okay,” he says soberly, looking at you with mock gravitas. “Are you ready to see?”

You roll your eyes whilst you nod, and he turns you. The fog has faded from the mirror, so you’re able to see yourself clearly as your mouth actually drops open. Your hair is still damp, but even so, the bottom half falls in loose waves, the ends curling just slightly. It’s smooth, and shiny, and nothing like you thought it had the potential to be.

“Not bad, right?” Sirius sounds smug, but you can feel his excitement as he watches your reaction. “I might use less heavy products in the future, and more mousse, but—”

You spin around, wrapping him in a hug. He laughs, arms coming around your back with just as much enthusiasm.

“It looks so pretty, Siri,” you gush. “Thank you so much!”

“I’ve always said you’re the prettiest girl in the world,” he sounds exasperated, but his grip tightens on you warmly, “so I really don’t see why you’re acting so surprised.”

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stayconnecteed · 3 months

Text

❪⠀🪐.⠀sweets⠀𓏔⠀bangchan⠀❫

☆ㅤbangchan x afab!reader ( valentine's collab oneshots )⠀★⠀3.7k words

synopsys: when chris first saw you, it was past midnight and he was tired, so no one should judge him if he thought it was one of his dreams. and as some dreams come true, finding out that not only are you the sister of one of his friends, but that you also have a crush on him, might just be the sweetest dream of all.

The first time he had seen you, Changbin had dragged him to the gym a few minutes after midnight, determined to tire him out enough to collapse as soon as he got into bed. College had been stressing him more than usual and his sleep schedule was messed up again, keeping him awake until dawn. But just as he was keeping an eye on his friend's bench press exercises, you walked into the area they were in, your loose hair swinging as you walked, humming a catchy melody. The music you had chosen to work out to must have been really good because, although he couldn't hear it through your earbuds, the way you were bobbing your head to the rhythm of the song, concentrating on every note, made Chris wish for a moment that he had been the composer.

But he wasn't. He didn't share his songs with anyone. And you did share your enthusiasm for music with anyone who chose to look at you, as he was doing with you at that moment. He noticed the exact moment when his gaze softened at your innocent appearance, looking at you tenderly, just as you felt yourself being watched and looked up, making eye contact with him. You both shied away from each other for a few seconds, you too embarrassed, Chris not so different from you, and he saw you give a sheepish smile and murmur a "sorry", probably thinking that you had interrupted them.

But then, the little interaction he'd managed to get was interrupted as Changbin left the bar secured in place and sat down on the bench, sighing in a tired tone something about how watching his posture was the only task he had while he did that last exercise, that he promised him they'd be leaving afterwards... Until he saw you too. And then, with his heart twisting in his chest, Chris had to watch your eyes light up at his friend's presence, your lips curving into the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen, and hear your voice 一smooth and velvety, even a little low, as if you hadn't spoken for a few hours一 greet Changbin, asking him about his day.

Chris had decided to adopt a spectator role, blending in with the rest of the gym machines as you two caught up, slightly ignoring his friend's voice as he repeated class anecdotes he'd been present for, and giving his full attention to your words, learning about your latest hobby, the new workout exercice you'd seen on Pinterest, and how mean the teacher of that subject you enjoyed so little was. At least until you apologised again for interrupting them and Changbin remembered his friend's presence, introducing you. And when you said goodbye to begin your routine, Chris couldn't help but repeat your name in his head, spelling it out, breaking it into syllables, savouring it, before Changbin announced he was done.

They'd been locked in there for at least an hour, and although he couldn't imagine why you'd go training at such an ungodly hour, when he turned around and saw you preparing some light weights for your warm-up, Chris wanted to stay. Especially when you touched your wrist as if looking for a scrunchy that wasn't there and had to settle for pulling your hair into a ponytail as you put on the cap you'd brought, securing your hair in the hole in the back. And when you bent down to untie and tie the laces of your black Converse twice. And when you put on your knee pads. And when you took off your oversized shirt for comfort, because the gym was empty after all, and he could see how well those athletic shorts clung to your curves. Then he felt like a Victorian man, because he could see all the skin on your legs, and your bare arms and even the curve that joined your collarbone to your shoulder.

Chris wanted to stay, but he didn't. Because when he looked up from the flesh he couldn't stop staring at, that narrow line between the edge of your sports top and the waistband of your shorts, and met your surprised eyes and flushed cheeks, the Victorian man fantasy was left behind, a heavy, hot shame falling over him instead. So he cleared his throat, swift steps covering the distance to the men's locker room, and tolerated the minutes of showering listening to Changbin's laughter at what had happened, even though all he wanted was to scream into his pillow.

Since that day he had tried not to think too much about what had happened, though he certainly hadn't been able to stop thinking about you, and every time his mind wandered to the warmth of your voice or how soft your body looked he had to remind himself that it was useless. Even though he had that need to find you, even though he was dying to ask Changbin who you were, even though he had returned every night to the same gym at the same time just to try to see you. There were days when he came to class with nothing but his laptop and only a couple of hours of sleep, just because he had tried to search on You Tube that song you had been humming. After a few weeks, Changbin got tired of his sulking, and told him that you used to go for a run after your last afternoon class in the campus park.

So Chris stayed in his room every night.

How could he go jogging in the same place as you? At the same time? Out of nowhere? After the pitiful impression he'd left the only time you'd met? Even if you probably didn't remember? He couldn't. He would wander through that park in the afternoons, when Changbin had told him you had lessons, and sit on the grass, soaking up the good weather, to create some new melody for his music production course. Every note, every pressed key, trying to recreate the pitch of your voice, imagining you in those damn shorts running through those same streets, alone with your music and your thoughts.

The mess in his head was comparable only to the mess his roommates made whenever they could. When he returned home, he had rushed to his room, ready to go to sleep and not think about what had happened for a few hours, but the next morning it had become clear that Jisung, the third part of his artistic trio, had found out about his constant awkwardness in your presence, as Changbin couldn't keep his mouth shut 一especially if it meant he could mess with Chris一 and they hadn't been able to stop talking about it.

The anecdote had spread like wildfire among his group of friends, thanks to Jisung's comments, and before he knew it, whenever he was with them in public, he was constantly looking over his shoulder. At first, he was just keeping an eye out for you. He didn't know if he would be able to muster the courage to approach you to ask for your phone number, but he wanted to at least see you again. Afterwards, it was mostly to see you first, because he was afraid of what his friends might say. He knew that when the time came they would shut up (or at least try to), and behave like normal people, but it wasn't the first time someone had let something slip in front of someone's crush. Nor would it be the last.

Luckily, there was no chance for anyone to mess up. With less than a month left in the semester, Chris met up with one of his classmates to finish his final project, in the room Hong Joong had in the dorm on campus, and the last thing he had expected was to see you lying on his bed, your phone in your hands, smiling at the screen. You looked beautiful, your hair spilled over the pillow, a skirt that came to mid-thigh and a strapless white top that showed off the shoulders you'd worked out in the gym. Chris stood in the doorway, not listening to a word his classmate was saying, staring at you as if you were a dream from which he was about to awaken at any moment.

Hearing your brother speak, you looked up, and Chris could see the moment you realised who he was. And though your cheeks began to tinge crimson red, that time it was he who received your bright gaze and your lovely smile, his lips mimicking yours as he heard you whisper a shy "Hello, Chris," and instead of feeling like a Victorian man he felt like a victorious man, your infectious happiness the best prize. Somehow his name sounded better if you pronounced it, and in his numb state he could tell that even after so many weeks, you still remembered what his name was. Even if Changbin had said it casually, even if you had your earbuds on. You had heard it and treasured it, just as he had done with yours.

Joong asked if you knew each other, and as Chris drowned in a glass of water, not knowing how to respond, you said something about Changbin being the guy who had helped you when you didn't know anything about the gym, at the beginning of the year, and who had recently introduced you to each other. You then had a side conversation, the kind only siblings understand, between accusatory glances and apparently inoffensive comments, while Chris pulled out his laptop and hard drive. You solved it by announcing that you were going out to buy some snacks, and that he would leave you alone, and you left a peck on his cheek before kissing Chris goodbye with another, leaving the room with your heart pounding.

"Changbin had told me you had a crush, but I didn't know the mystery girl was my sister," his friend had said then, making Chris turn around at full speed, his mouth wide open. He had his hand on the spot where your lips had rested for a few seconds, and he could still feel the touch of your skin on his arm, the same arm you had used to lean on so you could kiss him. He hadn't even stopped to think about what you were doing lying on his friend's bed, because your presence had erased all rational thought from his head, but every word Joong said seemed to sink into his chest like a bitter truth. "Not even that the guy she kept talking about was you."

Wait a minute. Chris would have thought he looked pretty dumb, standing in the middle of the room, with his hard drive still in his hand, staring at Joong as if he had grown a third eye and a totally empty minded. He would have thought so if he wasn't trying to remember how to breathe, how to behave like a human, or how to think. In a matter of minutes he had been attacked with too much information, and he wasn't processing even half of it. The important thing was that Joong didn't seem angry, he supposed. He didn't, did he? He was smiling, so that must be a good sign. Chris nodded, putting his things down on the desk, as if he could work at that moment, and under his friend's amused gaze, he repeated the last sentence in his head... "She wouldn't stop talking". You? About him? Oh, my god! That was awesome! Oh, wait, that could be bad. You could have talked bad about him in a negative context. You could have complained about his creepy behaviour. Or maybe not. Probably yes, but what if you didn’t?

"I don't know how you did it, but she doesn't shut up," he continued, crossing his arms, enjoying the way Chris was blushing, deciding to give him a bit of a hard time, just to fulfil his big brother role. "And then, of course, Changbin won't shut up either. That he saw you drooling over that girl in the gym, and you kept thinking about her, that it was written all over your face, that the last two assignments for Professor Yong's class were instrumental ballads. Care to explain?”.

"I... Huh, well, she... And I, yeah..." Joong watched him swallow, his hands playing with the loose threads of his black jeans, his gaze making eye contact for a few seconds before he shied away again. He thought that if you could see him in that moment, maybe you wouldn't be so self-conscious around him, or that you'd finally make a move.

"It was like reading two books of unrequited love from Romanticism," he announced, approaching him with a relaxed posture, resting a hand gently on Chris's shoulder. "Turns out it's just a romcom film in the end."

"Romcom film?" he asked, confused, relaxing a little when he noticed the teasing tone in his voice, and the smile on his face.

"Yeah, you know. Romantic comedy," he explained, grabbing his own laptop and stuffing it in his backpack, under the watchful eye of a Chris who wasn't understanding a word. "Two idiots in love who think they can never end up together, until they do. She particularly likes The Proposal, the Ryan Reynolds one. It's on Disney+, in case you were wondering."

"Idiots in love? Ryan Reynolds? What the..."

"Look, you've got a crush on my sister, I get it," he said, hanging his backpack over his shoulder. "And she's got a crush on you too, so trust me, The Proposal" he grabbed an elastic hair band he had tucked under the sleeve of his hoodie and put it on Chris, slapping him on the arm in an affectionate way. "Don't ask her to share her packet of red jellies, she never does."

And just as he was about to add something else, the door opened, and you appeared with your hair a little dishevelled and a plastic bag in your hand. Your smile was still plastered on your face, as if you had been on a wonderful adventure while you had been away, or as if returning to your brother's room was always returning to a place where you felt good. You lifted your bag, announcing what you had bought, and headed for the small portable kitchen your brother had to store it in.

"I'm going to have to go," Joong said, before his silence was too suspicious.

"What, why, what happened?" you turned around with a worried gesture that made Chris' heart melt, questioning your brother with your rounded eyes.

"Hwa's lost half of what we recorded the other day" he whispered, as if it bothered him, as if he hadn't just made it up. "I have to go check if it's retrievable or if we need to record it all over again, before it's too late to submit it. Can you include Chris in your movie afternoon? Changbin doesn't finish his shift for another hour and a half and he's the one who was going to drive him back home."

Wow, a round of applause to the new nominee for best leading actor. Brilliant performance. Using Changbin as an alibi was a smart move, he wasn't going to deny it, but he was more afraid of your reaction: paralyzed, eyes fixed on your brother, almost as if you had gone pale. He was quick to deny Joong's words, "You don't have to, really. I can walk back or even go to the library."

But his words seemed to make it all worse, because you looked at him even more frightened, until you both heard HongJoong throat clearing. You then seemed to come back to life, the plastic bag still in your hands, moving with nervous speed around the room, nodding without looking Chris in the eye. Great, he was sure he was totally making you uneasy. But before he could apologise, you announced that you were going to change your top in the bathroom, that it was too hot outside and you were uncomfortable, and kissed your brother goodbye on the cheek before disappearing.

And then Joong disappeared too, as if leaving you both alone was his main priority, and he stood in the middle of the room trying to figure out what to do. He put his things in his backpack, so he wouldn't forget anything when he left, and took out a couple of bowls to put the chips you'd bought and the bag of red round jellies you had set aside on the table. When he turned around and tried to figure out where to put them, that was when he realized that the TV was in front of the bed, and there was no couch. Crap. He'd have to leave the bowls at the foot of the bed, and then what, sit and wait for you?

He had no choice, so he threw a blanket on the bed and leaned down to wait for you, pulling out his phone and checking messages he wasn't going to answer yet, just to make some time. When the bathroom door opened and you stepped out, still wearing your top but visibly calmer, the first thing you did was turn to him, a strained smile on your face, "Listen, if you want to do your music, or go home, or whatever... You don't need to stay and babysit me. I can even drive you around if you want me to.""Oh, no, I don't babysit" he explained trying to find an excuse that sounded reasonable but without showing how much he was looking forward to spending time by your side, "I needed a relaxing afternoon anyway".

"Oh" you mumbled, as if you weren't expecting that answer. "What movie do you want to watch then?"

"The... Proposal?" he stammered, somewhat unsure.

"Oh, my god!" you exclaimed, hiding your open mouth behind your hands in a gesture of surprise. "You know that movie?"

"Of course, I love Ryan Reynolds!" he replied, because it was still true after all.

"I love Ryan Reynolds too!" you repeated, giggling, your shoulders moving slightly and that smile he was dying to see curving your lips. "C’mon, sit next to me."

You snuggled against your brother's pillow, the bag of jellies in your lap, reaching for the movie with the remote, and sighed when the poster appeared on the screen, hitting play in a heartbeat. You looked at him as you opened the package, your doe eyes wide, waiting for him to settle in, the intro music playing in the background, and Chris wondered if a date with you would feel like this. So familiar and normal, like he belonged with you. And as Ryan Reynolds' alarm went off and he shut it off, stressed about being late, Chris sat next to you, shoulder to shoulder, and tried to pay attention.

It was hard, knowing that after so many weeks spent so eager to find you, to see you again, he suddenly had you at such close reach, he could almost touch you, and yet the distance was still there. So he let the minutes pass, staring at the screen without seeing anything, soaking in your body warmth, listening to your occasional laughter, not touching the food, until suddenly you stopped the movie.

"What's wrong?" he asked, as if the one acting strange was you.

"It's my favorite movie and you're not comfortable," you said, frowning.

"Yes I am..."

"Is it because of something Joong said?" you interrupted, apprehensive. "Did he mention something about me?"

"I..." his throat was dry, knowing that if he didn't start the conversation off on the right foot, you might get the impression. "It was about... You know, the... huh, mm-hm."

"The crush" you breathed, leaning your head against the wall, closing your eyes in a defeated gesture.

You were silent for a few moments, Chris repeating word for word every sentence, trying not to let it show how horrible he felt about what he had said, and you wishing you could disappear, wishing you could murder your brother, wishing you had never left your house that afternoon. You knew Joong would never do anything that could hurt you, but maybe he hadn't thought it through before selling you out like that in front of the only boy you'd ever shown any interest in.

"Is it childish?" asked Chris.

"What?"

"It's childish that ever since I first saw you at the gym I wanted to stay by your side forever?" he knew the phrase he'd been repeating in his head for weeks had been the best choice when he saw how quickly you turned to look him in the eye, that soft tone in your irises glowing with happiness, your heart about to burst out of your chest.

"I don't know" you replied, your lips slowly curving into that smile that had enamored Chris from the beginning. "It's childish for me to buy round red jellies just because if I press one of the sides before I eat them, hearts form?"

"Yes?" his smile mirroed yours, as if you were having a parallel conversation with your gazes, one that only the two of you could understand.

"Maybe," you affirmed, taking one and forming a heart, "but I don't care. I like sweets. And I like you. Do you want one?"

He took the heart from your hands, watching it as if it were your own heart, treating it gently, not caring about the sugar sprinkles he was leaving on his fingers, or that he was throwing across the bed, and before he popped it in his mouth and could savor that intense strawberry flavor that was to become his favorite, he murmured:

"I like you too".

And when instead of going back to your pillow you cuddled against him, his arm sliding over your shoulders, he knew that yes, that's what a date with you felt like. And as he left a tender kiss on your forehead and you pressed play, he felt it was familiar and normal, because it was obvious that deep down inside you belonged together.

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#﹙ ★ ﹚ mars — writes.#stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #bangchan x reader #bangchan fluff

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captain-hawks · 7 months

Text

CRIMSON INCLINATION

♡ — osamu miya x f!reader

It’s a ritual—the way Osamu shows you just how much he missed you after away games and training camps, in a tangle of limbs and lips and rumpled sheets. And despite the unfortunate timing of his latest return, to Osamu, it’s just an opportunity to try something new.

18+ ONLY

wc — 3.8k

prompt — period sex

additional content — established relationship, complete and total filth, sexting, blood, fingering, oral sex, unprotected p in v, creampie, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, so much cum + INARIZAKI UNIVERSITY!OSAMU

╰┈➤ kinktober masterlist

Osamu: catching the next train Osamu: be home by 6

After tapping out a response to Osamu, your finger idly swipes through the rest of the recent messages lingering in your text thread, including a gallery of incredibly unflattering pictures of Atsumu sleeping. But once you reach your conversation from several evenings ago, an ember of heat flares to life in your gut.

>>> Are you back at the hotel yet?

Osamu: not yet, out for dinner with the boys Osamu: whats up?

>>> Put your phone under the table ;)

Osamu: ???

>>> [image sent]

Osamu: FUCK Osamu: i miss you so much

>>> [image sent]

Osamu: fuckfuckfuckasdklj Osamu: wait Osamu: ok i’m in the bathroom now Osamu: [image sent]

>>> [video sent]

Osamu: i’m so fuckin hard right now christ Osamu: look what you do to me Osamu: [image sent] >>> The vibrator doesn’t feel as good as you :( >>> [video sent]

Osamu: babyalkdfjadsf Osamu: wanna feel you so fuckin bad Osamu: make a mess for me Osamu: please

>>> [image sent]

Osamu: good girl Osamu: fuck Osamu: oh oops Osamu: got cum all over the mirror and the sink Osamu: now Tsumu’s dumb ass is banging on the door Osamu: [image sent]

Your conversation had been interrupted part way by several text notifications popping up at the top of your screen from the blonder Miya—

Atsumu: Samu’s either fuckin dead in the bathroom right now Atsumu: or he’s jerkin off Atsumu: don’t answer that Atsumu: but either way can u tell him to hurry it up we need to pay the bill

—

Despite Atsumu’s entirely shameless attempts at flirting when you first met the twins during freshman orientation week at Inarizaki University several years ago, the more outspoken Miya never stood a chance. After learning you had only recently arrived in town from Tokyo, both brothers took it upon themselves to help you acclimate and find your way around, and much to the self-proclaimed eldest’s chagrin…you only had eyes for Osamu from the start.

Somewhere in between his softer disposition and wry sense of humor, Osamu had a habit of taking your breath away and filling in all the cracks of perpetual anxiety that you’d begun to splinter with over moving all the way to Hyōgo by yourself.

(“Yer really just gonna look me in the eye and say ya prefer the diet version of me?” Atsumu had balked the first time he caught the two of you fooling around on the couch, clutching his chest in mock-offense right before Osamu nailed him in the face with a throw pillow.)

To most, Osamu may seem like the more mild-mannered, less high-strung of the Miyas—which isn’t untrue, necessarily.

(Until the two of them start arguing, at which point it’s like watching a mirror hurl childish insults at itself for forty-five minutes straight.)

But that same untamed, wild energy that Atsumu radiates in spades isn’t entirely absent from your preferred twin, he just has a particular outlet where he lets that kindling spark and catch.

A far more private one.

Beneath those kind eyes, that gentle smile, and the soothing cadence of his voice, Osamu Miya is fucking filthy. In between the sheets, the wanton curve of his lips and his steely, lust-blown pupils are an omen of sinful intent, his rough, gravelly tone a hot, stroking caress that snags on each and every notch of your spine.

(“Forget what I said about never forgivin’ ya if you move out,” Atsumu had grunted over breakfast one morning in their old shared apartment. “If I have to listen to you two fuckin’ like bunny rabbits for one more night, I’m takin’ a bath with the toaster.”

“How ‘m I gonna make breakfast then?” Osamu lazily drawled around a mouthful of toast.

Atsumu taped a hand-written eviction notice on his bedroom door that afternoon.)

So the sex?

Fan-fucking-tastic.

But Osamu’s university volleyball career often finds him on the road between a constant array of games and training camps, which puts a bit of a damper on the frequency of your extracurricular activities in the bedroom.

(see also: the couch)

(see also, also: the shower)

(see also, also, also: the kitchen counter)

(...and that one time on Atsumu’s bed during a party—a secret you and Osamu will both take to the grave.)

Thus, more often than not, your text threads while he’s on the road shamelessly resemble low-budget erotica.

(Atsumu made the mistake of snatching his brother’s phone from him once at the wrong time on a particularly long bus ride.

He called him Ernest Dickingway for a month straight.)

Unfortunately for both of you, there’s something throwing a significant wrench into Osamu’s current plans to—in his words—fill you so deep when he gets home, it’ll still be leaking out of you tomorrow. Groaning as another sharp cramp in your abdomen overrides any lingering lustful thoughts, you sigh pitifully as you envision your boyfriend’s crestfallen expression at the terrible timing of your period.

—

You’ve only just shut off the scorching hot stream of water and wrapped a towel around your naked body when the bathroom door creaks open, Osamu’s gray head of hair poking through the doorway. A grin that sets your heart fluttering in your chest crosses his face as he catches your gaze, wasting no time in striding forward and cupping your face, kissing you hard.

“Hi,” he says quietly, carrying some of the chill from outside, and you can feel the smile on his face as he says the word against your lips.

“Hi,” you whisper, running your fingers over the soft strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

“Missed you,” he exhales, lips careening off course and trailing along the curve of your jaw, nose nuzzling against the side of your neck.

“I missed you, too, Samu.”

Despite the fact that you’re dripping wet and naked beneath the towel, Osamu takes his time reacquainting himself with your lips first, his hands firmly grasping your hips as he places you up on the counter and loosens the fabric just enough to slot his body between your legs. Your heart burns bright, thrumming insistently in your chest as his tongue skirts along the seam of your lips, imploring them to part. Opening your mouth, he deepens the kiss, fingers dancing along the damp skin of your neck, still warm from the blistering heat of the shower water.

He tenderly kisses his way down to the hollow of your throat, lips skirting off to the side to wetly mouth at your left collarbone, earning him a sharp intake of breath as you react to the sensation. Your legs wrap around his waist as you scoot to the edge of the counter while pulling him flush against you, your towel falling further open. He groans, nipping at your tender skin while his erection strains against the front of his sweatpants and presses insistently at your core.

“I know ya said you wanted to order takeout first when I got home,” he groans, “but I don’t think I can wait.”

You don’t argue, and so with that, he picks you up, nudging the door open wider with his foot as he carries you toward the bedroom. Fingers fumbling with his shirt, you finally wrench it free and send it flying across the room right before both of you go tumbling atop the bed. Your towel falls open, leaving nothing left to the imagination as you lie splayed out naked atop the sheets, Osamu’s graphite eyes drinking you in.

“I’m never leavin’ you for that long again,” he breathes out as your toe catches in the waistband of his sweatpants, one of his hands reaching down to help you shuck them off. His boxers are fighting a losing battle against his throbbing erection, a dark spot of precum already staining the front of the cotton material.

“I don’t think your team would like that very much,” you muse, reaching up to twirl a rogue strand of his hair with your finger.

He takes your hand into his own, kissing the tips of each of your fingers. “I’ll quit ‘n open up an onigiri shop downtown instead. Then I’ll be home every night to see your pretty little face when I do this.”

Right on cue, your mouth falls open with a moan when he drags a hand up your side and palms at one of your tits, teasing your pebbled nipple with his thumb. While you’ve mostly dried off, his fingers slide through the damp area that remains on the underside of your breasts, spreading the thin sheen of water until your skin absorbs what’s left. Any and all remaining thoughts swiftly leave your head when you feel the huff of his hot breath against the swell of your breasts moments before he takes one of your nipples into his mouth and begins to scrape his tongue against it.

Your breasts are so tender and swollen, the aching relief of his attentive touch makes your chest heave. And unfortunately, it’s also the sensation of Osamu suckling at your sore breasts that brings you crashing back down to reality, breaking through the dam of arousal to give way to an unfortunate reminder of why there’s a dull ache in your abdomen.

“Osamu…wait.”

He immediately pauses in his ministrations, fingers gently feathering over your skin as he looks up at you expectantly, spit-soaked lips slightly parted, hair already sticking up in several directions. “Hmm?”

“We might need to take a rain check on the sex,” you sigh, wincing at the feeling of another sharp cramp.

He furrows his brows, sitting up slightly and looking down at you with concern. “You alright?”

You mumble something about having your period under your breath. Not because you’re embarrassed—Osamu’s the poster boyfriend for doing tampon runs without so much as batting an eye—but rather because you feel bad that you completely forgot about it the moment he started kissing you.

Osamu’s quiet for a few moments, mulling over something in his head until he finally responds, “I don’t mind.”

You smirk. “Well yeah, I still have a mouth.”

He tilts his head to the side, an odd expression on his face. “S’not what I meant.”

There’s a butterfly-soft caress of fingertips dancing along the top of your thigh as he speaks, the silence that hangs between you now dripping with the implication of his words, adding an invisible weight to his touch.

With communication as a solid cornerstone of your relationship, neither of you has ever shied away from conversations about exploring different kinks and sexual desires—one of the most recent having found your legs wrapped around Osamu’s waist as he fucked you in the equipment room after practice, a scenario you’d jokingly tossed out across the mattress and into the meager space between your pillows one night.

(“Is it…weird that it turns me on imagining you fucking me in there after practice? Covering my mouth to try and keep me quiet so none of your teammates catch us?”

It’s something that people would expect from Atsumu, without a doubt.

But not from this Miya.

“Better wear that pretty new dress you just bought when ya come watch tomorrow’s practice, then.”)

And that’s what turns you on even more—knowing that you’re the only one that gets to experience that part of Osamu, sweat-slicked hair plastered to his forehead while he hotly mouths at the side of your neck in the dark, the sounds of his lingering teammates just on the other side of the closed door. The press of his hand against your lips, muffling the sounds the repeated thrusts of his cock are pulling out of you no matter how hard you try to stay quiet. His forehead against your own, a boyish grin on his face, shoulders shaking in breathless, silent laughter as the two of you narrowly avoid getting caught.

So standing on the precipice of trying something new with Osamu right now? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

But this.

Does he really mean…?

You’ve never dared entertain the thought, the mere idea of it a step too far to even consider broaching the topic. And yet Osamu seems entirely unruffled by his suggestion, like he hasn’t just thrown you completely off kilter.

“You want to…” you trail off, eyes darting down to your lower half before looking back up to meet his again.

“I bet you’re real sore and haven’t been feelin’ too good all day, huh?” he asks, fingers skimming over your hip bone. You nod in response, and he begins tracing circles up the inside of your thighs as he continues, “Well…how about I make you feel real good now?”

If Osamu wasn’t the one that brought up the idea in the first place, you’d be embarrassed by how turned on you feel at the thought of him delving between your legs at this exact moment.

Glancing at the bed, you thumb the edge of the towel that you’re still lying on top of. “It’ll probably get…messy.”

He leans down, ghosting his lips over yours in a whisper of a kiss. “And if I said I want ya to make a mess for me?”

The sharp feeling in your gut isn’t pain this time, but a searing jolt of desire that makes you restlessly shift beneath him.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m so goddamn hard just thinkin’ about it,” he tells you, voice rough.

Letting your entire body relax, you whisper, “Then touch me, Osamu.”

Osamu’s eyes remain trained on yours as his hand makes its way between your legs, your breath hitching in your throat when he deftly swipes a finger through your drenched folds. Your slit is soaked in arousal, but it’s also dripping with blood. You know just how slick and dirty it feels—you’ve touched yourself like this in the shower before. But to have someone else’s fingers rubbing deliberate circles over your fluttering entrance, smearing your bodily fluids along the inside of your thighs?

It’s absolutely filthy, and you’re not sure if you’ve ever felt so turned on in your entire life.

He watches you with rapt attention, gray eyes darkening like a storm as he drinks the way your body trembles with each stroke. Without warning, Osamu sinks a single finger into your cunt, the simple sensation nearly shoving you over the precipice of an early climax. You keen underneath him, legs spreading wider to bring him deeper inside of you.

“Osamu,” you exhale, biting down hard on your lower lip.

He groans, inadvertently grinding his cock down against your thigh. “Fuck, you’re so wet. Holy shit.”

A second digit joins the first, if only for the novelty of it, because you’re so goddamn soaked there’s no need to actually prepare your cunt for the stretch of his cock. He crooks his fingers, dragging them along your plush inner walls, and you whine, running your hands over your swollen breasts.

“Feels so good, Samu.”

He begins to roughly palm himself through his boxers, the leaking head of his cock poking up through the waistband that’s now shifted low on his hips.

“You have no idea what I wanna to do to you right now, ” he tells you, his own imminent loss of composure evident in his rasping tone.

“Show me,” you plead as you rock your hips.

But for all that Osamu’s made it abundantly clear that he wants to do this, you’re still not expecting what happens next—his head between your thighs, the press of his fingers inside of you replaced by a broad stroke of his tongue up your slit. You cry out, bucking your hips into his touch as he sucks on your clit, swirling his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves before returning his attention to your quivering entrance.

His hands grasp the inside of your thighs, and all you can do is brokenly moan as he slips his tongue into your cunt. The sounds of him eating you out are downright obscene, the wet squelch of his mouth devouring your bloody, soaked pussy leaving you in a dizzy haze of arousal. Osamu, meanwhile, is just as affected as you are, his boxers askew, ass partially hanging out as he ruts against the mattress.

It doesn’t take long for the heat churning in your gut to start to unfurl, your muscles going taut with the rapid approach of your climax. And Osamu, ever the overachiever, is quick to shove two fingers back into your cunt, the pads of the digits curling tight to firmly stroke your spongy inner walls as he sloppily mouths at your clit.

If his intention was to make you squirt, something he’s become mildly obsessed with since the first time it accidentally happened, he passes with flying colors. His name is a choked out sob on your lips as your orgasm rips through you, clear liquid spraying from your cunt as you moan and shudder. Osamu groans loudly against your pussy, and you shudder with oversensitivity as he laps up everything you give him.

“Almost came in my pants,” he breathes out unsteadily as he looks up at you, wiping at the blood that’s smeared all over his lips and cheeks with the back of his hand. It’s a futile effort, and he opts to use the corner of the towel instead, though it still leaves behind a lewd stain on his skin.

“Glad you didn’t,” you reply, running a hand over the outline of his dick.

“Mmm, why’s that?” he asks, shifting his body to finally slip his boxers off.

The idea of him humping the bed so desperately while eating you out that his boxers are sticky and soaked with cum afterward is undeniably hot, yes. But—

An image of Osamu’s cum and your blood dripping out of your cunt and down the inside of your thighs flashes through your head, and it’s all you can do not to impale yourself on the thick shaft that’s bobbing between his legs.

“Want you to fill me up,” you murmur, sliding one of your own fingers through your folds.

There’s an awkward beat where you regret letting those words slip, belatedly uncertain of where Osamu might draw a line between himself and the bloody mess between your legs. You’re not even sure if the two of you have any condoms lying around currently.

But you’re both on the same page, because he lets out a shuddering breath as he notches the head of his flushed cock at your entrance and firmly squeezes the base. “Feel like ’m gonna come as soon as I put it in.”

The mere thought of just how close to the edge Osamu already is sends a bolt of desire surging between your legs. And even if he does blow his load prematurely, you know he’ll be fucking his cum right back into you the moment he coaxes his dick back to life again anyway.

“What're you waiting for?”

Osamu plunges into your cunt, your tight walls so slippery with fluids that he immediately bottoms out, slamming into your cervix. You both moan in unison, the blood, cum, and arousal creating a far more wet and slippery surface than any of the various bottles of lube nestled in the drawer of your nightstand could ever hope to achieve.

“Haaaaaaaaaah—fuckfuckfuck,” he groans, forehead falling against yours as he involuntarily jerks against you.

“Holy shit,” you echo his sentiment, fingernails digging into his back.

Osamu begins to move, though his normally precise, thorough thrusts are far sloppier than usual, thanks to unbelievably slick tunnel your cunt has become, paired with his downright lust-fuelled, pussy drunk state. You’re desperately pliant beneath him, your cunt greedily sucking his cock back in with each wet, heavy stroke.

You can only imagine how his shaft looks right now—painted red with blood, sticky with cum, and glistening with the sheen of your arousal. Each plunge of his shaft into your sodden hole elicits the filthy, lewd sound of excess fluids squirting and dribbling out from between the two of you, dripping onto the towel below. Pleasure builds rapidly in your abdomen as you both fight to keep any semblance of a rhythm, though it’s ultimately a lost cause.

“This is so fuckin’ hot,” Osamu pants, hardly able to get the words out between his groans.

His thumb finds your clit again, and your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head when he makes contact with the sensitive cluster of nerves. “Come for me again,” he murmurs.

Osamu Miya never needs to ask you twice.

The ache between your thighs flares white-hot, a scorching wave spreading beneath your skin as you reach the crest of your climax. Osamu fucks you through your trembling bliss as you whimper and moan beneath him, his own composure walking a tightrope as your walls spasm and contract around his thick shaft.

“Come in me,” you whine, the back of your head still pressed firmly into the pillow as your body slowly begins to relax from its tense, arched position.

With no willpower left to stave off his orgasm after resisting the urge to let your slick cunt milk his cock the moment he sunk into the heat between your thighs, Osamu gives you one last sloppy thrust.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he moans, burying his shaft balls deep in your wet cunt.

Your sensitive walls flutter around his cock as he pulses deep inside of you, filling you to the brim with thick, hot cum. And even when he begins to pull his shaft from the warm confines of your pussy moments later, he still can’t stop coming. A broken moan crawls up his throat as he grabs his slick, throbbing cock with one hand, the other fingering your succulent, fucked out hole while a creamy flood of blood and cum drips out of you. He fists his length as he finger fucks you, groaning as more ropes of his sticky cum paint your thighs and your stomach.

“One more,” he chokes out roughly, completely fucking gone on the filthy, depraved mess you’ve both made.

It’s too much.

It's not enough.

Your cunt is so overstimulated, you’re oscillating between pleading moans and desperately gasping for air.

But Osamu knows you, knows how much you love when he pulls every possible orgasm out of you, till you’re a moaning, shuddering, cum-soaked mess for him.

And after the last remaining coil inside of you snaps, leaving you to whine his name as you buck upward into his touch, Osamu’s softening cock nearly jumps back to life, one last spurt of cum dripping out and landing squarely on your clit.

He collapses beside you afterward, arm slung across your chest as he nuzzles against your shoulder, and you can feel the sheepish grin spread across his lips as he mutters against your skin, “Yer tellin’ me I get a whole week of this?”

— likes, comments, &/or reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#osamu miya x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya smut #miya osamu smut #miya osamu #osamu miya #haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu smut #dee writes

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alexa-fika · 19 days

Note

Could it be possible to request doflamingo reaction to him finding out through his spies or Ceasar that he has a daughter ? I think it's a 50/50 with him like I can totally see him going out to bring her to him. The 50/50 comes to the way he'd treat her. She is a Donquixote after all. Idk with how things ended with Cora if he would be gentle with her. Or just end up trying to using her in some scheme? If you don't have any ideas for how the story should go? Maybe Law and the strawhats learn about her? Maybe she's scared of the family and outsiders and they try and help her?

Broken Bonds (Doflamingo x f!teen!reader)

A/N so I got these request, and I kinda merged them together to make this piece, Doflamingo is problabky Ooc here simply because that ass wouldn’t be soft but we have the power to change that ✊🏽Maybe a cook?? Maybe, maybe a sizzle.

Reader here is replaced by the placeholder, Dokusha which means reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

“Let go of me, idiot,” she growled, sending a swift kick to the guard that was currently holding her down

Dokucha had chosen to take on a mission on Dressrosa despite Sabo’s and Koala’s concerns. In the end, they understood that this was something she needed to do. And so she set off to begin gathering information on the Kingdom. However, the mission quickly turned wrong as she was caught trying to sneak into the castle. Now, she found herself being brought to the very man she was supposed to collect information on

Doflamingo sighs, swiftly wrapping strings around the teen to prevent her from further attacking his guards

“Leave,” he ordered, glaring at the guards, who nodded and made a quick exit from the throne room

She refused to look at him, instead focusing her attention on the strings wrapped around her limbs, glaring at them and tentatively pulling at them

“You’ve grown.”

“I'm surprised you recognize me,” she quips back, giving up on messing with the strings and turning to glare at him

“Of course, I still remember the little girl who was stolen from me.” Doflamingo’s lips slightly curved upwards

“I would hardly call it stolen; Uncle Corazon saved me that day, saved me from you.”

“From me?” He said in a soft tone and smirked

“I’ve never harmed you.”

“Who knows what would have happened if I stayed? Maybe I would have become another puppet of yours, or maybe you would have killed me like you did Uncle Cora.”

“I wouldn’t have harmed you; after all, you were still my kin.”

“He was also your kin, your own brother!” she growls at him, a frown growing on her face

“He was a weak-willed, useless fool,” Doflamingo said, showing no hesitation in belittling his dead brother

“Besides, he was the one who went against me; all I did was take care of my problem.”

“Shut up, you don’t get to slander his name!”

“you never met him; you were a baby, so how would you know anything about him?”

“Law told me about him; he never forgot about him, and he told me all about him and you.”

Doflamingo frowned,

“So that boy brainwashed you, didn’t he?”

“You were the one who brainwashed him, and it would have worked if Corazon had not saved him back then.”

“Law was weak, and he paid for it,” Doflamingo said carelessly before standing up and walking toward her

“Law is not weak; he is one of the strongest men I know, something you will never be; he raised me; I got to be a strong independent woman; I got to join the Revolutionary Army to take down assholes like you.”

“You’re still a child who has no understanding of how the world around you works,” he said, getting closer to her

“And you’re still a tyrant who thinks the world revolves around you.”

“Do you really think you’re free? The only reason you aren’t in my dungeons is because you are my daughter, the one that was taken away from me.”

“Oh, how kind of you,” she sneers, sarcasm dripping from her words

“Come back home; there is a throne waiting for you,” he said, placing his hand on her cheek, cradling her face

“What? What are you on about?”

“You would be the princess of the Dressrosa kingdom; what’s so bad about coming back?”

“Like I would come home to a murderer like you,” she said, pulling her head away

“But I’ve never hurt you; I’ve never laid a finger on you,” he said, his voice soft and sincere

“You killed him,” she cried

“You expect me to come home after what you did to him? After what you did to Law?”

“That was a punishment, one he got for betraying me; he knew the consequences of his actions,” Doflamingo said, ignoring her mention of Corazon

“How could you say something like that?”

“Because it’s the truth,” he said, “he knew what would happen if he betrayed me.”

“I loved him, but all he did was betray me, and he got what he deserved.”

“He didn’t deserve to die! You made his life hell from the moment he was small, so how could he not try to bring you down?!”

Doflamingo chuckled,

“I just did what I had to do; I never mistreated him; in fact, he was the closest person to me until he turned on me.”

“Are you going to say the same about Law?”

“Yes,” he said, his tone remained the same and calm

She shakes her head, tears sprouting in her eyes. How could someone think that way of their own family, of a child? As she grew older, Law began to disclose more and more of what had occurred between the three of them, and every time, she grew more saddened as to the harsh life both Law and Corazon had to endure due to Doflamingo

“They were right,” she cries

“I was hoping, wishing that maybe, just maybe, you had changed, but you are just as they described a monster.”

Doflamingo stayed silent, his face a blank canvas with no expression to decipher

His hand returned to her cheek as he listened to her, beginning to move his thumb across it, caressing it and wiping her tears off her face

He sighs, removing the strings keeping her in place

“Come home,” he said, his voice softened, looking at her with soft eyes

She shakes her head, pulling his hand away from her

“This is not home.”

He sighs again, allowing her to step back from him

“It seems no matter what I say, you will not listen to me, not in this state. Go to your room, rest, and we will discuss this tomorrow.”

“My room?” She seethes

“There is no room for me here; I do not live here, nor will I; if you think I'm just going to stay and play at home with you are wrong.”

He lets out a hum at that, a smirk growing on his face

“Perhaps not, but at the end of the day, you are still a prisoner here, so you don’t get a say on what I tell you to do.”

She opens her mouth to protest once again, but is stopped as one of the maids of the castle gently takes her hand.

“Bring her to her room for the night; I’ll send for her tomorrow,” Doflamingo commanded the maid

Despite how disgusted she felt at having to sleep under the man's roof, to accept anything he was giving her, she would need the strength if she wanted to fight down. As she was, she was simply no match for him, so she really didn’t have any other options

She glares at him, allowing the maid to pull her away

“This is not over.”

He chuckled at that, his smile a sharp one compared to the softness he had presented earlier

“I never said it was,” he said before waving her farewell as she was removed from the throne room

Okay let’s ignore the fact that Koala and Sabo, nor anyone in the revolutionary army would ever let a teen just wander off in a mission to spy such a dangerous person alone, and let’s also ignore the fact also wouldn’t just let a teen leave alone to join the revolutionaries until they were grown up 👍🏼 Gotta make the story happen ya’ll

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece x child!reader #one piece donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo x y/n #doflamingo x you #doflamingo x reader #one piece doflamingo #doflamingo #op doflamingo #doflamingo one piece #donquixote doflamingo

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dtfpeta · 10 months

Text

Eager To Please | Ghost x Fem Reader

Tags: porn no plot, fingering, oral (f receiving), praise, sub!ghost, slight orgasm denial

a/n: so i haven’t written fanfiction in a whiiille and i don’t expect this to be great but i want to start somewhere. i heavily encourage constructive criticism and feedback!

Word count: 1,464

Read here on ao3!

__________ Ghost is someone who wants security. The vulnerability it takes and the safety that such intimacy like this provides, allows him to revel in this shared moment for as long as he desires.

That's why he takes his time with you. Degradation is something not suited for him, especially regarding this activity. You trusting him to this extent is something he could only dream of, regardless of those being a rare commodity for him. The gratuitous praise of sweet words lingers in the air like the wind from an open window on a humid day. This, however, enveloping you to a mind-clouding extent rather than just the surface of your skin. Your own insecurity getting in the way when your body subconsciously tries to conceal itself from the softened tower of a man atop you.

“Let me make you feel good. Let me thank you”

You are his rock. The one he trusts most to give his most vulnerable moments to. Whether that be from the aftershock of returning from a threateningly disastrous mission, sharing even the insecurities he has trouble not voicing to himself, or the moments like this where he has missed you so terribly he tries to weld you into his skin. He has more than enough to be thankful for when it comes to you. Like the wild daisies that grow from the foundation of abandoned and nearly dilapidated homes he finds when on duty. You are the pink on his callouses and you stain a similar shade of rose against his semi cloth-concealed face. You are the good he has learned to find in the bad he thinks himself to be.

He raises his balaclava to display his lips and what is now closer to a 5-week shadow covering the lower half of his face. The sensation of his stubble only adds to the pleasure of the cherry-colored spots he leaves along your body. Sometimes, more so blackberry tinted.

As he traverses down the mountains and curves, the valleys and peaks of your body, he finally reaches your wanting heat. His butterfly white lashes open to give an almost pleading look, one that asks a question. Not being able to contain the unbridled lust no one but him can invoke, you buck your hips toward his touch and he lowers himself with a pleased hum till he is nestled in your thighs. A home he wished to return to as soon as possible anytime he was away.

“Please don’t tease Simon” Relinquishing his call sign you near but beg for him, hoping he doesn’t hear the needy break in your voice. He doesn't see this as teasing though. Only making a moment he would never take for granted, last while. "Patience comes with its rewards." He taunts.

Simon reaches his left arm under your leg to come up and rest on your lower stomach. As he lets his eyes drink in the display that is you before him, naked and red with wanton need, he brings his right hand to stroke between your folds. Moving upward as he gathers your slick and massages slow circles onto your neglected clit. “You’re so good to me sweetheart” he voices in a deep, molasses-coated tone. His ministrations remained at a tantalizing pace. One that kept you on the verge of stagnant pleasure.

A heightened gasp left your throat in response to the mess he was making with just his three fingers that laid on your bundle of nerves, moving back and forth and massaging said bundle between his digits. His speed picks up and the only thing you can think of is how only he can make you feel this way. And he is never in jeopardy of forgetting to remind you. A heat begins to form in your chest that carries to your ribs and limbs. The nerves that occupy your fingers being lit ablaze with accompanying rapid breaths that feed in the air around you in an attempt to blow out the flame. Simon picks up on your heavy and quickened breaths. The desire induced fantasies he procured of you to satiate a certain hunger of his while in the field didn’t fill up his head like the sounds you made now could.

Before you could register the gleam of anticipated regret in his eyes he removes his hand. “My god-!” you exclaim. Before you can beg his name the hand resting on top of your stomach moves to allow for his thumb to continue his previous work. His thumb now encircling your clit with less urgency than his dominant hand could provide, though still moving at a more than gratifying pace. “Just wait for me sweet girl” he breathed.

A new sensation was felt where he teased and traced around your entrance. Feeling how your hole clenched at nothing but the idea of him, any part of him, to be inside you.

“Who am I to keep you waiting?” he questioned before sinking his middle and ring finger deep into your cunt.

A moan escaped your lips as you wrapped around his fingers. “Fuck, just look at you.” The whimpers that left your mouth as he stroked along your walls began to compete with the squelch of your pussy as Simon continued to finger you. His digits slowly entered you to meet the perfect spot in your cunt that Simon had already memorized. Making sure to burn the most wanting parts of your body into his brain like a cd he listened to on repeat.

“Do you want another one?” he asked suggestively before lifting his stone-heavy eyelids to meet your gaze. His two fingers already worked perfectly inside of you but Simon always took more of a hands-on approach, especially when it came to you. The moan you let out was enough of a response for him as he rutted his finger into your walls against your g-spot. “I know sweet girl. You take it so well”

He had now worked in an additional finger that was soon found in the pulse grip you had his previous appendages in. A shaky moan leaves him before reconnecting his gaze with your own. Simon's pupils are blown and he thinks he just learned it was possible for a human to experience this much bliss. The pride he found in being able to make you feel good was unmatched to anything he had felt before.

“Don’t stop Simon!” you beg at him.

He pinches his eyebrows together and gives you a breathless smirk. “You know me better than that.”

Rather than quitting, Simon replaces his thumb on your clit with a languid stroke from his tongue. “You missed this too, yeah?” You jump from the sudden contact and can’t help but squirm under his perfect touch. His suctioning tongue works in tandem with his fingers that provide long and fervid strokes into your drenched cunt.

This is cloud nine for Simon. It’s all he needs. The reactions your body gives his own don't go unnoticed by his own senses when he begins to rut into the bed beneath him. “Because I missed this so much” Simon lets out shaky moans between your lips followed by a pleading of your name when the summit of your pleasure begins to approach.

“I missed this too baby. I missed you so much.” you say as you throw your head back and reach for the back of his head.

Simon continues to lap at you and groans into your sex, the added vibration sending your jaw falling open and a noiseless ‘o’ to form on your face. Your back arches as your legs begin to spasm around the soldier's head and a similar fire from earlier sets your nerves ablaze. Making its way throughout your body and stationing itself in the lower pit of your stomach.

With a final moan from a breathless Simon, his hips stutter into the comforter below as the muscles in his back begin to tense, taking him to his own summit of pleasure. He sucks at your clit with a hard passion as he helps ride out the both of your orgasms. He pulls away with a string of saliva connecting his chin to your pussy. Both of your wrecked states being proof of such a passionate and profane act.

You look up at him with an exhausted but content smile. That rose stain returns to his cheeks as he tries to cover the spot on the bed he made a mess of. “I’m sorry. It’s been a while-" he begins, but is cut off by your soft hush and loving gaze. He has no reason to be embarrassed, especially since you know it means for an eager chance at redemption from the masked man that is later to come.

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #call of duty #cod smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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moonchildstyles · 2 years

Note

I know you've written about aster y/n's birthday but what about Harry's birthday. I'm sure she'd surprise him with some sexy but cute lingerie.

would u ever write another smutty aster blurb with aloooot of daddy kink and harry is lowkey rough but she likes it?

how do u feel about aster getting a little rough in bed? I know they’re known for making love but I feel like you could still make it intimate

wordcount: 29.5k+

—————

"Harry, stop! I'm trying to ask you a question!"

(Y/N)'s command was more than lacking in conviction as she wheezed it through bouts of giggles. Despite her half-hearted request, Harry didn't stop his attack on the soft curves of her sides for even a second, his fingers digging in tickling runs over the sensitive skin. As he lent over her, chest bare with his tattoos on display, his hair hung around them like a curtain as if the strands could offer an extra layer of privacy in the middle of his darkened bedroom.

"A question that y'already know the answer to," Harry sung, teasing her over the sound of her stilted laughter. If he wasn't careful, she was going to lose a lung with the way she sucked in oxygen only to pump it out a moment later under duress.

"Pl-Please! I can't breathe!" (Y/N) squeaked. Begging didn't quite have the same effect through a giggling smile, though, she was learning.

"But y'look so pretty laughing like this," Harry crooned, hovering closer above her, "Why should I stop?"

Fitting her arms around his shoulders, (Y/N) tried her final strategy. She clung to him like a koala, hoping to somehow disarm him or even squish his hands between their bodies to make him immobile. In the end, when her form was pressed to his, it worked as the perfect distraction. Harry couldn't stop himself before he was moving instinctively and wrapping his arms around her to hold her as she wrapped around him like a vine. She panted in his ear, struggling to catch her breath as he rolled them to have (Y/N) lay atop his chest with their legs tangled.

"Thank you," she peeped between gasps, feeling flush after the tirade a single question had brought on.

Harry, with his arms wrapped tightly around her middle and his face tucked into her neck, whispered, "I didn't hurt you or anything, right?"

She was quick to shake her head at his words, the movement stilted in her own position with her face in his shoulder. "No, just couldn't breathe for a little. I know you were only playing, it's okay."

Letting out a deep breath, he flexed his hold on her in a tight pulse before turning to press a kiss to her hairline. His lips lingered on her skin, the cool sliver of his lip ring a bright spot against (Y/N)'s heated skin.

A beat of silence passed, (Y/N) melting in his old before she burst with the same question that had prompted Harry's play wrestling.

"So... You never really answered me," she drawled, hoping her hidden position in his chest would shield her if he decided he wanted to play around again, "What do you want for your birthday?"

Harry sighed, his breath fanning through her hair. "Lovebug," he started, amusement and exasperation mingling in his tone, "I did answer you. I don't want anything, you know that. I only want you."

(Y/N) held back a hmph. What a lame answer.

"But you already have me."

"I know," his classic lopsided smile audible in his words, "I have you every night."

A heat raised to (Y/N)'s cheeks that she was sure he felt against his chest. Despite the fact it was clear he had her last night with the minimal amounts of clothing on both of them—(Y/N) in only his shirt and Harry with boxers slung low on his hips—and the mess of sheets and blankets that wasn't just from the mess of hands Harry woke her up with, he hadn't needed to say it like that.

"But—Harry, I—"(Y/N) floundered, unable to find her tongue through her heart lodged in her throat.

His laughter rumbled his chest underneath her, the sound ringing close to (Y/N)'s ears. "You're so cute, baby."

Though her mouth was now dry and her heart pulsed at his mumbled compliment, (Y/N) tried again, "B-but, I'm not a real present. I want to get you something nice like you always do for me."

Harry finally reared back from the home he made in her shoulder, forcing her to pull back and fall under his observing gaze. The lack of black kohl around his lashes did nothing to soften the intensity of his eye contact, though the moss color of his irises were undeniably tender as they took her in. The lip ring she was very familiar with glinted in the low light that filtered through the cracks in his curtains, a matching hoop to the black ring pierced through his nose. All around him, his hair fanned out in twisting curls, his own form of a messy halo though he had dubbed her to be the angel between them.

It was moments like these, when she had an unobstructed view of him—of the love of her life—that she couldn't help but be grateful for everything that happened before they met. If her parents had raised her differently, if she hadn't grown to be the person she was now, who knows if she ever would have had this? Had him?

No matter how many times he embarrassed her with his flirty words or tickled her until her breath was stolen and tears entered her eyes, she wouldn't trade a single second of it.

"I really don't need anything, darling, I promise. 'M not talking shit when I say you're m'present. That's enough for me. I don't need anything else when I've got you." His voice came out in a croon between them, as if he were sharing a secret only to be heard by her.

(Y/N) felt her features round out at his words, softening the lines and creases. Her lips curved into a gentle line on her face, tender as his eyes.

"Are you sure?" she pressed, settling her chin on his chest as she gazed up at him.

"'M sure, love," he said, craning his neck to press a delicate kiss to her nose, "Jus' want y'to spend the day with me, that'll be enough for me."

As (Y/N) melted into his hold, feeling every bit of his warmth through her thin top, she liked that she was enough for him.

Still, she was going to ask Mitch if there was anything Harry mentioned that he wanted.

—————

Waiting for the waffle maker to beep, (Y/N) did her best to blink the sleep crust from her eyes. How Harry was able to do this every morning without fail was beyond her. Breakfast was nice and all, but sleep was something she savored more than any food that was served before ten a.m..

But, this was for Harry, she reminded herself. This whole seven a.m. wakeup and padding across the cold floor in bare feet, was for Harry. Today was his birthday—the first birthday of his that they were spending together—and she was determined to do any and everything she could to make this day special for him. Though she ultimately decided to stick to his request of no presents (mostly, it had been because when she had consulted Mitch, and he had offered her the same answers that Harry had given her; that He said he didn't want anything and hadn't dropped any hints to indicate otherwise), she did have a few tricks up her sleeve that she was going to utilize to the best of her ability.

If he wanted her as his gift, she was going to be the best little present she could be.

From the corner of her eye, the bouquet of flowers she had picked up and braved the world for before eight o'clock caught her attention. It wasn't exactly a traditional present, but he got her flowers all the time. She hoped he liked the arrangement, even if there was an extra smattering of pink baby's breath dotted through out upon her request.

The waffle maker beeped a little too loud for the early morning, making (Y/N) jump in her spot. A heavy sigh was sucked in through her nose, hoping the vanilla scented oxygen would have a hand in hopefully waking her up. Plating the crispy waffle, (Y/N) reached for the few fixings she had grabbed after spooning the batter into he maker. Some special vanilla infused butter Harry had found on one of his grocery trips was smeared on top before a couple of spoonfuls of split raspberries were dotted across. Instead of syrup, (Y/N) added a drizzling of honey to settle in the punched out squares of the waffle, something she hoped he would appreciate since they were out of the regular syrup after he and Mitch had a long night filled with the munchies a couple of days ago. The finishing touch came in the form of a yellow and white striped birthday candle shoved right in the middle.

Now, she had to hope he hadn't somehow woken up through the minimum amount of noise she made all morning and surprise him with his birthday breakfast.

Balancing the plate in her hands, one of Harry's lighters tucked away in the pocket of her (his) hoodie, (Y/N) danced around Evie as she made her way to the bedroom. The kitten seemed just as excited to wish Harry a happy birthday it seemed (and to probably get bits and pieces of the waffle that (Y/N) knew she would cave and hand out like treats).

Evie let out a chirping meow as they approached the door, her voice a bright squeak in the middle of the quiet, to which (Y/N) shushed her for. "Not yet, Evie, we'll sing in a minute when he wakes up," she murmured, carefully twisting the doorknob and entering the bedroom she so missed when she had been out and about.

Just as she hoped, Harry was still snug in bed. His head was cushioned by the black satin cased pillow she had done her part to convince him was good for his hair and skin, all the while hugging the one she had slept on and later replaced her own form with when she crept out early that morning. His chest was bare through the black bedding was tugged high to reach the top of his shoulder and shield him from the chill of sleeping alone. His lashes curled and touched the very height of his cheekbones, a crease running along his cheek where he had laid on the pillow wrong, a small gap parting his lips as he breathed in even, deep paces.

(Y/N) beamed at the sight, her heart thumping in her chest and lungs squeezing as the butterflies in her tummy flew high up. This was a rare sight for her, seeing him asleep. Unless she somehow beat him out and stayed up later than him or managed to wake up before the sun, he was the one that got the view of her sleep-softened form.

She carefully stepped over the floorboards, aware of Evie skating between her feet and racing her to the bed's edge. While (Y/N) placed the waffle stacked plate on her bedside table (Harry had bought another one soon after he gave her a key to his place, never really saying anything about it other than that she could start leaving some of her stuff there overnight if she wanted), Evie jumped up on the bed and sat close to her dad's face with purrs rumbling through her chest.

Emulating the kitten, (Y/N) climbed up the bed and sat next to where Harry laid with her legs tucked underneath her. She reached a gentle hand out and brushed Harry's curls from his forehead, fingertips lingering over his skin. "Harry," she crooned, settling a delicate hand on his shoulder, "Harry, wake up."

A short grunt was all she received in response before he attempted to roll over and smush his face in the pillow that had taken her place in his arms.

"Harry, no, it's your birthday and I made you breakfast. Wake up, please, H," she tried again, shaking him gently with her grip on his tattooed shoulder.

Awareness crept into the edges of Harry's features, his breathing breaking the even pace he had curated while his eyes squeezed tightly shut. "(YN)?" he grumbled, voice deep and graveled as he breathed her name.

"Happy birthday, Harry," she whispered, shuffling closer to him with the bedsheets bunching underneath her. She chanced a small kiss to he round of his shoulder, stamping her lips atop the cursive A she now knew represented his mother's initial.

A lopsided smile plucked at the corner of Harry's lips though he kept his eyes lidded. "Thank you, baby," he murmured, "Is that what's got y'up so early?"

"Mhm," (Y/N) phummed, absently petting Evie as the kitten made her way to stand on the pillow by Harry's head, her purring growing in volume as she searched for his attention. "I made you breakfast and everything."

This finally drew a slow blink of Harry's eyes, opening just a crack as he gazed up at her. "You did?"

An eager nod of her head tossed the stray pieces of hair that fell from her bun into flutter around her face. "I made you waffles with all of your favorite things—but I forgot to grab syrup at the store so I used honey, instead."

The lopsided curve bloomed into a full smile now as Harry listened to her. Rolling onto his back and effectively displacing Evie from her perch, he stretched his arms high above his head and let the covers fall to his middle. His eyes were sleep hooded even as he fully awoke, laid up in the soft sheets that tumbled closer to his waist the more he moved, allowing the full of his bare chest to be on display. He gazed at her from his spot, lazily dragging his eyes over her form as he noted her borrowed shirt and sleep mussed hair. She felt both exposed and safe under his gaze; he saw everything in her, she could do nothing to hide even a detail, but she also knew he would never love her any less because of anything he found.

Before (Y/N)'s thumping heart could fly her off the bed, she reached for his breakfast plate and the almost forgotten lighter she had set next to it. Evie scurried to her side now that the food was close, reaching to the top of her tiny toes in an effort to catch a sniff of what she was perceiving as her own meal.

"Even put a candle in it?" Harry murmured, shuffling to an upright position with his back against the headboard, "You're too sweet, lovebug."

(Y/N) sang him a quiet happy birthday through a tender smile and flushed cheeks, aware of his gaze on her as she click, click, clicked his lighter to get it to ignite. By the time she finished the short song, her smile had tugged into a frown as she still hadn't been able to get the flame going on the tip of the lighter. A quiet chuckle could be heard from a cross her, Harry's lips in a crooked grin as he reached for her hand.

"Let me try, baby," he said, warming her hand with his for a lingering second before taking the lighter from her fingers. It took him a single try to ignite the flame before he took it to the wick.

"Thank you," she peeped, feeling a bit guilty that she ruined his big moment to make a wish and made him do some of the work for his own birthday surprise, "Sorry."

Harry was quick to shake his head at her mumbled words, "Don't be sorry, nothing wrong with needing a little help. Now, c'mere and be very careful, yeah?"

He patted his lap with a palm, eyes dropping to the open flame on the waffles as she shuffled over to sit as instructed. Placing his palms on her hips, he helped her with the transition, careful of the plate in her hands as he maneuvered her to sit comfortably atop him.

"Do you want me to sing again?" (Y/N) murmured once she was situated, her eyes fixed to the wobbling flame.

A half smile allowed only a single dimple to dent Harry's cheek, a quick shake of his head given in response. "No, baby, y'don't have to. 'M sure m'wish will turn out just fine anyway."

His gaze lingered over her for a moment as he mentioned his wish, (Y/N)'s skin feeling warm as she noted the path his eyes took down the neckline and slouching shoulder of her borrowed top. Delivering a squeeze to her hips, Harry sucked in a breath before shuttering his eyes and blowing out the slowly shortening candle, the drips of wax falling into a pool of honey (Y/N) was going to need to somehow fish out before Harry took a bite. The doused flame was replaced with the phantom smoke whirling between them. The haze worked as a filter over Harry's features, speared by shards of sunlight breaching the cover of the curtains.

When he looked like this, she could only describe him as an angel—a miracle. To think this was just the first of his birthdays they would get to enjoy together, with the rest of their lives ahead of them. Just the idea made (Y/N)'s heart hurt and tummy twist into a cocoon for another swarm of butterflies to claim.

"What did you wish for?" (Y/N) asked, lowering the plate to sit on her lap between them.

"You know I can't tell you that," Harry nudged her, an amused tilt to his tone, "Nosy girl."

The corner of her lips tilted in a shy smile, her gaze dropping to the tattoos inked over his collarbones. "Will you tell me if it comes true, then?"

Her request earned her a kiss on her cheek, the imprint of his lips warming her skin. "I promise, darling," he crooned, his hands on her hips pulsing before joining her gaze on his birthday feast, "Ready to eat with me?"

"Oh, right," (Y/N) chirped at the reminder, plucking the candle from the waffle to lay on a paper towel she brought along to work as a napkin on the side table. She shifted to climb off of Harry's lap, giving him space, before she was stopped with the grip on her hips.

"Where do y'think you're going?"

Brows pinching in the middle, (Y/N) canted her head as she looked to him. "I thought you said you wanted to eat."

"With you," Harry cemented, ducking his head to be level with her, "So you've got to stay right where y'are."

"I only brought one fork, though."

"Didn't know y'were so scared of m'cooties," Harry teased, plucking the utensil from the edge of the plate and cutting into the confection. A perfect bite with a pool of honey in the cube and a half of a raspberry tinting the waffle red was cut away and scooped onto the prongs. His remaining hand on her side squeezed, "Open for me."

(Y/N) did as told with a flush in her cheeks. Wasn't she supposed to be doting on him today? Since when had her romantic plan of a surprise breakfast in bed devolved into Harry feeding her his birthday surprise?

He raised his brows as she chewed, cutting off a piece for himself with lazy movements. "Good?"

Her response came in the form of a hummed mhm, a little too shy to speak in that moment.

Harry looked a little too pleased with himself as he took his own bite, praises for her simplistic cooking following soon after. He didn't mind sharing half of his breakfast with her, cutting off one bite for her before scooping his own up. He was quiet as they ate, asking her how her morning went without him and if she had any dreams she wanted to share (she'd had one last night where they were driving around aimlessly and Harry wouldn't ask for directions no matter how many times she told him she didn't know how to get to Greenland without an airplane).

All the while, his attention was very lovingly and liberally served to her in the form of tender eyes and soft smiles. Soft lips kissed away dots of honey that had escaped her mouth and shared the sweetness of the vanilla butter with her in between bites. He was acting as if it were her birthday all over again, no matter the small mentions she made about how he wanted to spend his birthday and if Mitch had anything planned for him that night (the answer was no, as she had learned, Mitch took the wise route of giving Harry a card and a hug last night before going to the apartment for the weekend, leaving he and (Y/N) alone for the next forty-eight hours).

It was when (Y/N) was rinsing the plate in the kitchen, readying it to be put in the dishwasher while Harry fawned over his bouquet of flowers, that she decided what the rest of the day was going to look like. No matter how hard he tried to squirm out of today, she was going to ensure he had the best birthday ever.

—————

Harry was officially the king of squirming out of his birthday. All he needed was a crown.

Other than a few phone calls from his family and the boys at the shop, accompanied by texts interspersed through the day, Harry hadn't acknowledged much of his birthday. A friend of his even shared the same birthday and he had called her first and shared his happy wishes for her before he even admitted that yes it was his birthday too, and yes he was having a wonderful day, thank you.

(Y/N) even managed to take him out (fighting off an afternoon nap especially with the early morning still hanging over her), and no matter which shop or boutique they went to, Harry managed to find something he told her made him think of her and that she should have. She turned down every proposition, but still, it made her nervous she wasn't putting enough emphasis on him. Even when she took him to an art supply store that she had no business being in given the state of the stick figures she doodled in Harry's sketchbook, hard pressed to get him something he could use—even if it was for work—he still managed to find a carton of colored pencils filled with exclusively pink and rose shades that he told her she could keep at the shop and play around with when she was waiting on him on his late paperwork nights.

"Harry," she finally whined when they were huddled in the back of a record store, Harry on a mission to find a colored pressing of one of her favorite albums they could play tonight on his record player, "Stop."

Halting in his tracks, Harry's hand still wrapped in hers, he looked at her with raised brows over the dark sunglasses he hadn't bothered to pull from his face in favor of keeping his hand in hers. "What?"

"Today's supposed to be about you," she said, somewhat petulantly, fighting the pout that threatened the stern set in her features, "Why are you trying to do all of this stuff for me?"

(Y/N) could already picture the intensity of his green eyes under the shades as he pursed his lips, the very edges of his brows shaping into a pinch she could see around the frames. "I know," he started, "That's why I was doing all of this."

The first crack in her firm facade came in the form of knitted brows as she gazed up at him, feeling the urge to nervously pick at her nails, a habit Harry was working with her to break so she didn't constantly mess with her manicures. "What?"

An easy smile spread on Harry face, his attention falling back to the cartons and cartons of records stacked around them, fingers thumbing through the alphabetized categories. "When we left, y'said it was m'birthday so we were doing whatever I wanted—whatever made me happy right?"

(Y/N) nodded her head quietly beside him, following along to whatever aisle he wandered down.

"I like taking care of you, love, you know that," he said simply, flexing his fingers between hers, "So, doing all these little things for you make me happy. Whenever you're happy, I am, too. That's all 'm trying to do today."

"But," (Y/N) sputtered, unsure how to get around his logic, "W-We're going to your favorite places; you're supposed to find things you like so I can buy them for you."

Harry gave her simple nod, sliding out a record that she'd been searching for since it went out of stock online months ago. She tried her best to hide the perk in her demeanor when she saw the cover, the blue tinted silver shining in the light. She knew she failed when he tucked the vinyl under his other arm.

"I am finding stuff I like, but 'm having more fun this way. Everywhere we go is m'favorite place when 'm with you."

With her resolve now paper thin, (Y/N) used what was left of her conviction, "I don't know, H. Are you sure?"

That caused a small pause in his walk. He turned to look at her, finally pushing his sunglasses to sit atop is head and push back his curls like a headband. "Trust me, baby, yeah? 'M very sure about this."

Her eyes flicked to the record under his arm. "Promise?"

A tender smile tugged at his lips, the curve going lopsided with only a single dimple denting into his cheek. "I promise."

(Y/N) let out a small okay next to him, her smile facing the ground as she laid her attention at their feet. Whether or not this was another ploy to squirm out of his birthday, she had to trust him, right?

Besides, she still had the flowers she left him at home and the dinner she had planned for tonight. And, her agenda for after dinner she hoped went on without a hitch.

So, she'd let him walk her around a record store, picking out things he knew she liked when she knew there was still another present waiting for him at home.

—————

"First y'make me breakfast, then I see y'brought me flowers, and now you're getting dinner delivered? Darling, I think 'm in love with you."

Harry's words were stamped on the back of (Y/N)'s neck as she hung up the phone with Little House, their favorite Chinese takeaway spot and the choice of tradition for any special occasion between them. He'd come back from changing in his bedroom to find her on the phone, ordering their dinner when he had rounded behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle in a loose hug as she spoke. She was still fairly anxious when it came to making calls like that, always worried she'd order the wrong thing or mess up her words and hear a snicker on the other end (she knew those were silly little fears that meant next to nothing, but they still poked and prodded at her from the back of her mind), especially since Harry usually took on the responsibility of ordering for them like that, so his presence was more than comforting. His declaration of love after pressing the red button to end the call was like her reward for her troubles.

"I love you, too, H," she murmured, voice soft as she laid her arms over his and squeezed herself against his chest, "I know today hasn't been the most exciting birthday, but I really hope you've had a good time."

His smile could be felt in the crook of her neck as Harry shifted his hold on her to grab at the soft of her waist. (Y/N) allowed herself to be pulled wherever Harry wanted her, staying pliant as she was turned to face him with her arms and phone tucked between their chests. His smile was tender as he gazed down at her, the softness of the curve rivaled only by the cushy moss coloring of his eyes. His hands were splayed over the small of her back, pinkies dipping into the dimples at the bottom of her spine.

"This is the best birthday I've ever had, you know that," he cooed, "I love jus' being with you. I don't need loads of presents or parties or whatever y'think I need, I jus' want to spend time with you. And, I think 's special enough that y'didn't nap today and instead watched that entire documentary with me."

(Y/N) couldn't help herself but fall into his chest, tucking her head under his chin and face in his neck. Though this was how they'd spent most of the afternoon, tangled together on the couch with whatever show or movie Harry wanted to watch playing on the television, it hadn't gotten old. The feel of his hands warming her back and the tickle of his curls brushing her nose was more than comforting, all the while being encompassed in his scent. As much as today was about him, this was definitely something she considered a gift.

"That was pretty hard, I can't lie," (Y/N) mumbled, a small smile forming on her lips as she spoke. It really was the truth, anyway; it had been Harry who had pointed out how sleepy she became no matter what film or program was put on the T.V. after spending the morning with him, her being the first to fall asleep between the two without fail, even when she promised she'd watch the whole thing.

A lopsided smile curved over his features, a single dimple denting into his cheek as his tender gaze traced her face. "'M sure it was, baby," he crooned, "'M proud of y'for sticking through it."

Wiggling her arms out from between them, (Y/N) disregarded her phone on the counter beside them before placing her hands on either side of Harry's jaw, cupping the sharp line in her palms. Her fingertips inched into the very edge of his hairline, his curls loose and grazing his collarbones.

This was the longest she had ever seen his hair, and she loved it. The silken curls were her favorite things to play with anyway, especially when it was Harry who was having a hard time getting to sleep, and the added length made it all that much more enticing to run her fingers through.

That was why she couldn't help herself before moving one of her hands from his jaw, brushing her fingers through the strands and tucking them out of his face. She curled his hair behind his ear, allowing the low light glowing through the kitchen to dance over the side of his face and touch the dark ink etched into his neck. She could feel his eyes on her as she indulged herself and glazed her eyes over the planes of his face and the highpoints of his features. When her eyes trailed over his neck, it was the blank spots that had stood out to her the most compared to the black ink she was so familiar with.

He had told her once, late at night when he was talking her to sleep after they'd watched a scary movie, that he'd been wanting to get a tattoo dedicated to her. A pair of tiny angel wings he'd had in mind, the design small enough to fit somewhere on his chest or even his neck, he'd said. Now, whenever she thought to look, (Y/N) found herself pursuing the blank patches of skin that she might find one day filled with angel wings that she'd know were just for her.

"What are y'thinking about, baby?"

The sound of his voice and the bob of his Adam's apple in Harry's throat pulled (Y/N)'s attention back to his face. She shook her head, a shy smile on her lips at being caught despite the fact she had so blatantly looked him over. "Nothing."

In true Harry fashion, he delicately pried as he dipped his head and nudged his nose against hers. "You've gotta tell me now, darling. Can't keep secrets when y'smile like that, 's not fair."

The hand that she had brushed his hair back with, dropped to trace a cautious fingertip over the cords of his neck down to the neckline of his top, very aware of the warmth of his skin and his eyes that documented her every move. "It was just..." she trailed off, unsure of her own words, "Remember that time you said you wanted to get a tattoo for me? The angel wings and all?"

A slowly curling smile took home on Harry's lips. "Mhm."

"I was just looking, that's all. Seeing if anything changed."

"You're just checking, I see," Harry mused, ducking his head again to be eye level with her, the green of his gaze outlined by smudges of inky-black liner, "That would be a fun birthday present, don't you think? I could even have you be the one to give it to me. Would never forget something like that."

(Y/N) practically blanched at the idea of being the one to hold the tattoo gun to his skin. She'd never have steady enough hands, that was for sure. "I couldn't—I don't think—"

A teasing pout took over his features, "Y'wouldn't want to do that for me? Give me something special to have with me all the time that reminded me of you?"

When he put it like that, (Y/N) could almost forgive the jagged lines she would no doubt make. Almost. "Harry..."

He grabbed at her hand that had fallen to his chest, fingers wrapping around her wrist before he tugged it towards his neck again. From memory, he picked a blank inch of space along the column of his throat, the patch of skin left free between the twisting vines of the rosebush that colored his chest. "Not even if I asked y'to put it here? So everyone would see it? So everyone would know that I've got a pretty angel waiting for me at home. I'd even let y'do them in pink, if y'wanted."

Her mouth had gone dry as Harry talked. He was so good at things like this, easing her and showing her what those kind of things would mean to him, even if she was scared at first. He was the best at talking to her, soothing the biting fears and anxieties that typically followed her.

Maybe she wouldn't be so bad, (Y/N) pondered. If she was super careful and remembered to breathe, her hand could steady out and Harry might possibly be left with a petite pair of angel wings drawn by her hand that he would carry with him for the rest of his life.

When she didn't answer, Harry kept on, his eyes drawing over her features in tender runs, "Could do what we did for yours: wait for the shop to close so it'd be just the two of us. Could have you sit on m'lap, and I'd tell y'how to do everything, baby. I know you'd be so careful and good for me. I know you'd make it pretty for me, wouldn't you?"

(Y/N) floundered for a response, feeling her eyelids sink low over her eyes, lashes creating a flattering vignette around the vision of Harry. He knew exactly what he was doing, holding her so close she could feel the vibrations of his voice from his chest before she heard him with her ears.

It was the picture of her sat astride his lap, Harry laying underneath her on one of the tattoo chairs in the private rooms that made her lungs squeeze the hardest. If she allowed herself to creep towards the back of her mind, in this vision, there was no tattoo gun involved. Even less so, were clothes needed in this mirage. She wouldn't need much of a steady hand with Harry gripping her hips and helping her bounce up and down atop him, the only breathing she'd need to focus on would be to suck in enough air to tell him she loved him between the sinking of her hips.

Kissing the side of her distracted mouth, Harry mumbled against the skin through a smile. "Now, what are y'think—"

The doorbell rang just before he had a chance to finish his thought. Dinner was here.

A breath she hadn't been aware was stuck in her throat finally worked its way out when Harry drew away. His eyes were still the bright green she was in love with, but there was something lingering in them that she knew a little to well and recognized in the dark of his bedroom. If they kept this up, the birthday present she had been gearing up for was going to be rushed to be shared on the couch.

"I should get that," (Y/N) mumbled, the words rolling off her dry tongue though she didn't make a move to leave his arms.

"Probably," Harry mused, a lazy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "Or, I can get it. Y'look a little flustered, baby, might be best if I go answer the door, hm?"

She knew he was teasing her, the slight lilt to his tone all the evidence she needed. Still, even as her cheeks heated and eyes grew a fraction wider at his words, she liked it. She liked it when Harry played these little games with her; when it was just the two of them and he used that voice on her.

"Okay."

Harry's lazy smile transformed into a full grin at her response. His arms around her waist dropped as he stepped away from her. "Go wait in the living room for me, yeah? I'll be back in just a second, baby."

He left her after patting at her bottom, a self-satisfied smile on his lips. She watched his retreating form, tattooed shoulders stretching the white tatters of his vintage Rolling Stone's t-shirt his mom had sent as a present. The fabric, worn and old, allowed for the stretch and lean of his muscles to be seen through it, each of his movements highlighted by his tattoos.

At this point, (Y/N) wasn't sure if this gift she had planned tonight was more for him or for her.

—————

(Y/N) watched from the corner of her eye as Harry sunk further into the couch cushion, his eyes drooping in the light of the T.V.. He held a contented smile on his features as he pulsed the arm he had slung around her shoulders. Their Chinese take away was still spread over the coffee table, having finished with the containers over an hour ago though neither of them had the motivation to put the leftovers away for the night.

She tried to be discreet in the way she allowed her gaze to trace over the lines of his form. Soft lighting from the kitchen seeped into the living room allowing for Harry to be backlit, his profile standing out against the light. His lashes held a gentle curve, the tips fluttering against his brow bone and resting on his cheekbone every time he blinked. The straight angle of his nose allowed for the perfect slope that directed (Y/N)'s eyes to the hills and valleys of his Cupid's bow. Of course, what caught her eye the most, were the pillows of his lips that she knew like the back of her hand. Even with the lack of light draining some of the color from his features, she knew she could pinpoint the exact shade of raspberry pink that tinted his lips.

Looking at him now, her heart squeezed when she remembered this was just the first of his birthdays they were spending together. She was going to have the rest of her life to see him grow and change and add to the person she loved.

Moving her gaze from his face, she was more than thankful for the tatters of his Rolling Stone's t-shirt as the holes and gashes in the fabric allowed for peeks at his inked torso. The way he was stretched out, legs spread wide, taking up space next to her with the length of his arm thrown over her shoulders, made the lean muscles in his torso ripple and stretch in a reminder of how strong he was—and how gently he conducted himself with her despite that. His tattoos were dark underneath the fabric, enhancing the shadows already blanketing the view of him. Even without the clear strength he displayed and the lean gracefulness that only came from someone who had grown to love the body they were in, the art inked on his skin was enough for (Y/N) to argue that photographs of him should be hung in the Lourve. Maybe even a statue of him to replace Michelangelo's David would suffice.

Harry adjusted his position on the cushion, a sliver of his abdomen visible as he moved from one of the holes in his shirt. (Y/N) watched as the muscles contracted and shifted under the ink on his skin, ticking a fond memory (or should she say memories) of the just a couple of nights ago when he had her sat astride his lap and he bucked his hips up into her, abdomen flexing and straining as he bounced her on his hips. She swallowed at the thought, daring to allow her train of thought to drift towards what she was hoping he wasn't too tired for tonight. Just like he had done for her birthday those months back, she had something special in mind for tonight.

(Y/N) hadn't even realized she'd been caught staring—since when had she allowed herself to shift towards him, straying away from the sly sideways glancing she had began with?—until Harry's lips curved into a smile and she heard he gentle rumbling of his voice. "What are y'looking at, baby? Have I got something on m'face?"

He knew exactly what he was doing, that lilt returning to his voice that spurred a blaze to ignite behind (Y/N)'s cheeks. When he made a lazy roll of his neck, finally looking to her with that lopsided smile on his mouth, she felt her heart skip a beat. So what if he was teasing her and caught her staring? He knew what he looked like, so there's no way he could blame her.

"No," she peeped, answering the latter question. Rolling her lips between her teeth, she shuffled closer to his side, feeling the heat of his gaze on her face. "I was just wondering if you were tired already," she explained, a very short and clean version of where her thoughts really had landed as she gazed at him.

Harry's arm around her shoulders flexed, his palm spanning her upper arm with tattooed fingers denting the soft skin. "'M not tired, no," he started, something sly added to the curl of his lips, "Why?"

(Y/N) shook her head, lips tight as she fought the urge to settle herself against his chest and slant her mouth over his. As much as Harry brought her out of her shell, this territory was still something she allowed him to take the lead on and was harder for her to express her wants and desires as freely as he did.

But, she figured with that she had planned for tonight, that wouldn't much matter with what she was going to propose to Harry.

"Just wondering," she settled on, picking at her nails that had fallen in her lap.

A dark brow raised over his eyes, a knowing look shaping his features. "Are you tired?"

This time the shake of her head was immediate and rushed. She was definitely, definitely not tired.

"Look at you," Harry smiled, taking the initiative to swing his opposing arm around to land on the thick of her thigh before tugging her to him. He curled around her form, ducking his head to catch her gaze. "Two movies together and y'didn't fall asleep during either one. 'M proud of you, lovebug."

Unable to stop the grin that plucked at the corners of her lips, (Y/N) allowed the smile to stretch over her face. She loved it when he talked to her like that, hearing that he was proud of her, even if its over something silly like staying awake during movies.

(Y/N) glanced at him through the cover of her lashes. "I didn't want to miss any of your birthday, that's all," she peeped, voice a secret between the two of them.

Harry hummed at her words, eyes flitting over her features in teasing draws over the planes. "We've still got a few hours left, don't we? Any ideas on how to spend them, since y'don't want to miss anything?"

As if he didn't already have a plan. (Y/N) knew better, knew he had something cooking up with that inky gleam in his eyes.

Still, (Y/N) rolled her lips between her teeth, dropping her gaze to his tattooed arms, the designs sinking under the sleeve of his top though the lines of his muscles were easy to follow. "I had a couple of ideas, maybe."

The lopsided grin on his lips widened. "And what were those ideas, love?"

She felt like a guppy now at his prompting, unsure of how exactly she wanted to phrase what she had planned for the night. Sure, he had done a stellar job of pulling her further and further out of her shell since they'd met, but this was... different. Different than anything she'd asked of him before.

This whole idea came to her on accident, really. Months ago, she'd come by the shop to drop off Harry's lunch, him having forgotten the bag in the kitchen when he'd left that morning. It was supposed to be nothing more than a couple of minutes, in and out before she headed off to class after sharing a couple of kisses in his office. But, when she had walked in, finding the front room vacated with voices drifting through from Harry's office, she overheard something that made her pause.

It was no secret Harry was the more experienced out of the two of them, but it definitely wasn't something they regularly discussed—if at all. But, walking into the tattoo parlor she overheard one of the boys (she was about ninety percent sure it was Niall, which didn't surprise her) teasing Harry about how he apparently only "made love" now, gone were the days of his raucous shenanigans and explicit flings. She had crept down the hallway, listening as their words floated out through the small crack left between the door and the jamb of his office. She heard as Harry brushed off their teasing, telling them to leave him alone. It seemed his protesting had only spurred them on, (Y/N) listening as she heard them start again, asking Harry if he remembered back in the day when he was the first to share whatever wild escapades had taken place the night before with details to spare.

She'd known he'd gotten into some trouble before her, and more than likely toned down a lot of the kind of things he enjoyed before her, but it was different hearing it this way. Harry was always very adamant about how much he loved the things they did together, that he didn't want for anything when he had her kiss on his lips and her pretty body in his arms. Even then, he didn't play into their teasing, only offering half-hearted grumbles and requests for his friends to shut the fuck up, but (Y/N) felt like she was finally hearing about a side of her Harry she'd never learned about before.

For a split second, the idea that he had these experiences with others before her inspired a lick of insecurity tinted with jealousy before the pit was quickly filled and a different set of ideas replacing that worry. She had all the time in the world to redraw those memories of his, putting herself in place of those previous girls. That was how he figured his birthday might be the best time to put some of those ideas into action.

Harry nudged his nose against hers, the tip grazing her cheek as he awaited a response. "Y'can tell me, baby. 'S jus' me."

"Well, um," she stuttered, taking advantage of the lack of eye contact as he buried his face in her neck, "I just... When we go to your room, I want tonight to be all about you. I want to do whatever you want—however r-rough you want to be, I'll do it."

Once that stuttered word left her mouth, her request for him to be rough, she felt Harry tense. The teasing shapes he was drawing on the curve of her neck with the tip of his nose and the brushes of his lips against the delicate skin halted in less than a second.

Maybe this wasn't the right thing to ask.

Pulling back from the home he made in her neck, Harry's eyes were clear and unrelenting as they matched hers. "Y'want me to be rough with you?"

Swallowing, (Y/N) found her mouth dry now that she had an unobstructed view of his reaction. "I-I want to do whatever you like, in-including being rough if that's what you want."

Long, slow moments passed where (Y/N) felt more than a little vulnerable under his gaze. The mossy coloring of his irises decreased until it was nothing more than a thin ring around his pupils. The longer he looked at her, she noticed the way something smug lingered on the edge of his lips though he tried to bite it back with the blunt of his teeth.

Touching his forehead to hers, Harry closed the space between them tight enough to leave just the tip of his nose nudging hers though not near enough to close the gap between their lips. "That's not what I asked you, baby, you know that. I wanted to know if you wanted me to be rough. Don't care if it's something y'think I want, I want to know what you want."

His eyes were clear and piercing as they met hers, cutting out any chance for her to shy away or find anything other than his attention to concentrate on. His hands were still softly cradling her form, an arm around her shoulder to anchor her while the other hand cupped the soft of her thigh, fingers edging towards her bottom—gentle, like he always was with her.

With Harry's words floating around in her head, (Y/N) pictured what it would be like for those gentle hands on her body to shift. For his hands to change the way they guided her. The gentle pressing of his fingertips on her thigh could become bruising dents into the soft of her form. The weight of his body pinning her to the mattress under him, keeping her just where he wanted. His hips driving between hers, knocking the breath out of her before she could even gasp his name. All the while, he could still picture Harry kissing her gently, telling her how beautiful she was even as she was ruined.

Focusing her attention back on the man that was currently starring in her fantasies, (Y/N) realized she hadn't been very discreet in her imaginings. The corner of his lips were upturned in the slightest, his hooded eyes seeming entirely too smug around the ink of his blown pupil.

"I think it could be... nice," (Y/N) settled on, her words nothing more than a peep between them.

Harry's lips bloomed into a smile at her word choice. "Nice? Y'think me being rough with you, showing y'exactly how I want you and letting me do anything I want, would be nice?"

He was teasing her. As expected, a fluttering of butterflies and bumblebees made way through her tummy, knocking against her ribs and punching at the soft tissue of her middle. But, what wasn't normal, was the extra clench of her muscles at the tone he used, the cloying, gently mocking tone that swathed his words and made her thighs clench and insides pulse.

Maybe it was the butterflies in her tummy or the way he was looking at her so intensely with a teasing shimmer in his eyes, but (Y/N) felt breathless as she spoke. "I-I think so, yeah."

(Y/N) watched as Harry sucked in a deep breath, his eyes clear and attentive as he gazed as her. Before she could react, his hand that had been settled on her thigh reached up and grabbed at her chin, pinching the curve between his thumb and forefinger as he tipped his head and pressed his lips against hers.

Gentle as he always was, Harry guided her through the contact, tucking her bottom lip between his two. He sucked on the full of her lip sweetly, the tip of his tongue tasting the swipe of raspberry lip treatment she had applied to her mouth after dinner. It wasn't the kiss she had expected given the circumstances of their conversation, but it wasn't one she was going to complain about.

That is until Harry's hand on her chin shifted, working over the line of her jaw before finding its way through her hair. His fingers sifted through the strands before he made a sharp fist on the back of her head, hair included. Her head snapped back, baring her neck as her pulse picked up under the delicate skin. A gasp fell from her mouth, the change in his hold more startling than anything painful.

"Was that nice like y'were thinking?"

Despite the lightly mocking edge to his words, (Y/N) couldn't help but flutter her eyes closed and nod her head as best she could with a fist in her hair. The brush of Harry's lips against hers that she earned was nothing more than a tease before he pulled away after a breath. Only their breathing could be heard as (Y/N) tried to find her mind, Harry's hand lingering heavily in her hair. He made slow work of unfurling his fingers and allowing the strands to slip back into place.

"I think," he breathed, dotting a kiss on her chin before the point was plucked between his thumb and forefinger, "we need to talk about a couple of things before we keep going. That alright, angel?"

Blinking her eyes open, she allowed her chin to level and get a look at her Harry. There was something different in his gaze as he swept it over her features. The green of his eyes was almost completely eradicated around the inky black of his blown pupil, a spark lingering behind them that she'd never seen before.

Was this the guy the boys had talked about? Was this who existed before she walked into his life?

"Hm, baby?" he prompted her, thumb tapping against her chin through the hold he had on her.

"Y-Yeah," she stuttered, "We can talk."

A sweet smile bloomed on his features the longer he looked at her, his grip on her chin loosening to a caress before he planted a soft kiss on her lips. "You're s'good, angel."

She smiled into the contact, comforted by the reappearance of her safe place. "Thank you."

A breathy laugh was exhaled through Harry's nose as his eyes practically turned into hearts while looking at her. He ran his thumb over the full of her bottom lip, pressing into the pad before whispering for her to c'mon, then, lovebug.

With their fingers laced together, the towed her behind him to his bedroom. As much as it broke her heart, (Y/N) closed the door behind them, effectively cutting off Evie from racing over the threshold and joining in on the cuddling she was expecting. Silence covered the bedroom as Harry tugged her to the bed, sitting himself down first before placing her on his lap.

(Y/N) settled herself with thighs on either side of his hips, arms wrapping around his neck while Harry's steadied her around her waist. While he was still very clearly wrapped up in what they started out in the living room (the bulge sitting right underneath her was enough evidence), she still couldn't help herself from fawning over him. No matter how blown his pupils were and what the night's agenda held, he was still the most gentle, handsome man she'd ever met and that made her heart beat harder than anything.

"Hi," she smiled, playing with the ringlets of curls falling over his shoulders.

His smile was sweet as he gazed up at her. "Hi, baby."

She couldn't help but hug herself to him at the sound of his affection, tucking herself into his neck with her chest pressed into his. Harry reciprocated her hold just as tightly, fingers braiding behind her back with his chin on her shoulder.

"Still feeling good about your idea for tonight?" Harry cooed in her ear.

Sitting in his arms, she got to feel the strength she had been admiring before. Corded muscles cuddled her close to the planes of his chest, blocks of abs pushing against the soft of her own body. She didn't know what he was going to do with his body, with the span of his hands that held her waist or the cradle of his thighs under her body, but she knew that he wouldn't do anything he didn't think she would enjoy or make her feel unsafe.

"I am, yeah," she affirmed, nodding her head with a smushed cheek against his shoulder.

"M'brave girl," he praised her, pressing a soft kiss to her temple before drawing away and urging her to pull back. "I've got something new I want to do with you tonight, then, too."

"Okay," she nodded, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth as she fought to maintain the eye contact she knew he was looking for.

He shifted his hold on her, his forearm still barred around her back while his other hand pet at her waist in gentle runs. "Have y'ever heard of a safe word before?"

Her response was a simple shake of her head. If Harry hadn't taught it to her, chances are, she'd never heard of it or understood what it meant if she had.

Nodding his head, (Y/N) watched as the curls huddled over his shoulders. "Since y'want to do some rougher things with me tonight, I think we should have a safe word or try out a color system," he continued, voice soft between the two of them, "'S jus' something for both of us, to make sure we both feel comfortable and safe. If either of us say our safeword, then everything stops. We go back to cuddling and loving on one another, no matter what we were doing before. Y'can tell me to stop still, no matter what and I'll listen, but this can jus' be something else we have that we can use. "

(Y/N) listened intently to his explanation, nodding her head as he finished though she wasn't completely clear on all the details. "What's a color system?"

Harry rolled the question around in his head, tilting his head as if wracking his brain for the right answer. "'S like a stoplight, kind of. There's green, letting each other know we both feel good and that we can keep going. There's yellow, which means we need to slow down, that we still want to keep going but need a breather. And there's red, which is the same as saying stop. No questions or anything, jus' a complete stop and we start treating each other gently again."

"Oh, okay." The idea sounded simple enough, (Y/N) figured. She liked the idea that if H didn't like something they ended up doing tonight, that he could ask her to stop or slow down. And, she could ask for a breather if need be, though she couldn't imagine Harry doing anything that would push her too far to step out of green territory.

The edges of Harry's lips fought to curve into a smile as she gazed at her. "Yeah? Do you like that idea?"

"Mhm," she hummed, a nod of her head accompanying the sound, "I like the colors."

His hand on her waist slid up the curve of her side before landing on the ladder of her ribs. "What's your color right now, then, love?"

She didn't even have to think before he bounced in his lap (a move that had Harry's thighs tense and grip pulse), "Green—I'm green."

"Me too, baby," he mused before craning his neck and pressing his lips to her, falling back on the mattress and taking her with him, "I'm going to be checking in on you a few times tonight, okay? Whenever we do something new, I want to know your color and make sure you're okay."

"Okay," she whispered against his kiss, her arms around his neck tightening with the curls tickling the insides, "And you'll tell me if you're not green anymore?"

(Y/N) felt his smile more than she saw it as he nudged his nose against hers, "I will, angel. I promise."

Catching her lips in a kiss, Harry took his time working her into the dreamy state she had been in out in the living room, helping her find her pliant state with his tongue in her mouth and hands on her waist. (Y/N) followed after him, lips parted and allowing sweeps of his tongue to run through her mouth with sucks of her bottom lip into his mouth, her chest pressed to his as she breathed in deep runs when she had the chance.

Her knees were braced on either side of his hips when Harry adjusted his hold and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Hang on," he murmured against her kiss before tightening his grip and rolling them over to end with him on top.

Careful to keep the full brunt of his weight from sinking into her, Harry allowed himself to lean into her form, pining her to the mattress. His mouth on hers slowed to gentle kisses, only the tip of his tongue running along the seam of her lips as he seemingly waited for any change in her response to the heavy handed contact. The only one garnered came in the form of her arms around his neck shifting to allow her fingers to sift through the curls of his hair.

This what what she had been imagining, she thought as she sighed into the contact; he was being as gentle as ever, kissing her sweetly and reminding her how loved she was by him, with the breath-stealing weight of his body pinning her down to ensure he got to keep doing as he pleased for as long as he felt. She hadn't been thinking when she bucked her hips upwards when she felt his arms looped around her waist tighten and draw an arch into her back.

A hum rumbled through his chest, her core having pressed right against the ridge of his cock. His kissing turned a touch harsher, something punishing lingering on the outskirts of the contact as he smeared his mouth over her own before pulling away. The heat of his breathing was felt against her skin as he stayed close enough to touch the tip of his nose to hers. "Be good, baby," he told her, his arms around her waist shifting to cup the bones of her hips in his palms, "Stay still and let me take care of y'like y'promised you'd let me."

Her breathing hitched at his words, the measured pacing she had started with now coming out in a huffed pant through squeezed lungs. "Okay, sorry," she squeaked.

"Don't be sorry," he hummed, nudging her face to the side with the help of his nose, "Jus' be good like I know y'are, yeah?"

While Harry kissed down the planes of her face, following the line of her jaw before planting a garden of kisses along the curve of her throat, (Y/N) tried to find her head. She'd lost it the second Harry wrapped her hair in his fist on the couch and it seemed to only run farther and farther away every time the stern tone of his voice rang through her head. Velvet covered steel, she thought, affection carrying the words out of his mouth though he made sure to let her know she was going to be sticking to her word of letting him call every single shot for the night.

It was Harry this time that ground their hips together, his cock pushing against her legging covered core. (Y/N) did her best to keep from reciprocating the strokes of his hips, her thighs tensing on either side of him with her hands in his hair tightening as if to work out that energy that called for her to ask for more from him.

"Feel me, love?" he murmured, his teeth scraping at the ledge of her collarbone as he dug his hips harder into her softness.

"Uh-huh," she keened, her mouth falling into a gape with her cheek smushed against the soft of his pillow under her head.

"So hard for y'already, angel. That's what happens when you're good for me." He praised her as he drew away from the column of her throat. One of his hands abandoned station on her hip, his palm cradling her cheek as he nudged her to face him. His hand still on her cheek, he pet his thumb over the height of her cheekbone, "Ready to give me more?"

He gazed down at her with eyes that reminded her of the tone of his voice: stern steel and velveteen affection. His lips were slicked with spit and shone in the limited light offered by the lamp on the night stand before he trapped the bottom one between his teeth, gaze shifting to where she could feel the imprint of his kiss on her neck.

Her response came out as an absent hum of confirmation, the noise vibrating through her throat where she could still feel the ghost of his warmth working over the skin. A short smile made its way over his mouth, molding his features into something soft before dotting a kiss on her cheek. He shifted over her, drawing away and leaving her to face the chill without his body covering hers.

"C'mere, lovebug," he crooned, tugging her along with him until he was sat at the edge of the mattress with (Y/N) following. He pinned his gaze on her as she kneed over the fluff of the duvet, stopping her before she could get too comfortable. Reaching for a pillow that bordered the headboard, he said, "Why don't y'get on your knees for me, baby."

(Y/N) watched as he placed the pillow on the floor, filling the space between his legs that was left as he spread them open to allow her to kneel between. She swallowed, following his tender-toned instructions as she climbed off the bed and sat back on her heels, knees cushioned by the pillow. With her bottom lip trapped between the blunt of her teeth, (Y/N) gazed up at Harry from where she sat, her skin heating when she found his eyes already pinned to her.

He towered over her from where he sat on the edge of the bed, his hands spanning the thick of his thighs, black nails gleaming like the matching hoops pierced through his lip and nose.

"Comfortable, love?" he crooned to her, reaching out and passing his fingers through the baby-fine hairs that fell over her forehead.

"Mhm," she smiled, leaning into his hand, "Thank you for the pillow."

The edges of his lips curled into a softened smile, his hand settling into a cradle on her cheek. "Of course, baby. 'M going to be a little rough tonight, not mean."

(Y/N) turned her head in his hand, lips level with the warmth of his palm where she pressed a kiss to the center. The ink of Harry's pupils, though still harboring a heat that was going to take some effort on (Y/N)'s part to extinguish, practically turned to rounded hearts as he gazed down at her. She watched through the frame of her lashes as he curled over, his other hand abandoning his thigh and settling along the line of her jaw.

"Give me a kiss, angel," he cooed to her, bending down far enough that his hair haloed around then with her face cupped between his palms.

It didn't take much of a thought before (Y/N) complied with his request, bouncing on her heels. She earned a breathy laugh from Harry was fanned over her skin before he sealed his mouth over hers in a soft kiss. He parted her lips gently with his own, allowing her only a taste of his tongue before he was drawing away once again, thumbs petting at her cheekbones.

"M'angel girl," he murmured before kissing at the corner of her mouth. He unfurled himself from around her, sitting with his hips at the edge of the mattress and his gaze pinned on his love. He only dropped her eyes when he began messing with the fastenings on his pants, fingers working right at (Y/N)'s eye level.

Watching intently, (Y/N) felt her breathing shift. The air in her lungs suddenly felt heavy as she followed the track his fingers were tracing until the glimpse of white boxers she'd seen before turned into a full-fledged show as he parted his fly and left it gaping. The outline of his cock was clear as day through the straining fabric, precum just beginning to seep out and thin the opacity of his underwear.

"Understand, angel?"

(Y/N) watched as Harry's hands stopped working, the black on his nails glimmering in the glowing light from the lamp. His tone was deep and graveled as it caught her attention, (Y/N) realizing her hadn't heard a single word of what she was supposed to be understanding.

"W-What?" she stuttered, looking up at Harry with her eyes rounding out from the hard edges that shaped his features.

He canted his head as he looked at her, the edges of his lips fighting off a tilt. "Y'weren't listening to me, baby?"

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth for a beat, eyes falling from his matching gaze back down to his lap in a fleeting sweep. "I was distracted," she peeped, "Sorry."

Shaking his head, Harry took her face between his hands, barring her from looking anywhere but himself as he curled forward once more. "Remember what I said? Don't have to be sorry, love, jus' be good. Okay?"

"Okay," she repeated through puffed lips, nodding her head as best she could in his hold.

Harry indulged himself in a short kiss to her lips before he resumed his position and worked his pants down his hips, budging up until the material sat at the mid of his thighs. "Was telling y'that I want y'to remember that 'm being rough tonight, but not mean to you. We're gonna try something a little different this time, and I want y'to tell me if y'want to stop. Since y'won't have much room to speak, our colors aren't going to work. But, what y'can do for me, is tap my leg three times, and that's how I'll know y'want to stop. Do y'understand this time, angel?"

Taking in a deep breath, (Y/N) willed herself to look away from the tented fabric of his boxers. "Y-Yeah, I do, Harry," she said, nodding her head. It took effort for her to look away from the way his cock jumped as her voice wrapped around his name.

Breathing stilted but the smug curve of his lips remained as Harry looked down at her with affectionate approval floating in his eyes. "Good girl," he praised.

Shuffling on her knees, (Y/N) couldn't help herself but draw closer when she saw his hand settle on the waistband of his underwear. Harry's breathy laugh of so eager, falling on deaf ears as she watched the way his fingers curled into the stitched band and tugged and tugged until his boxers joined his pants at the midpoint of his thighs.

Watching his cock bob against his tattooed stomach, (Y/N) felt just as she did the first time she got on her knees for him. Though his tattoos continued down under his bellybutton, clusters of flora that matched the rosegarden of his chest piece, she always thought the laurels etched into his hips—a pair he had gotten long before he decided to cover his skin—acted as the perfect frame for him in moments like these. The ruddy head stood out starkly against the black ink, the veined underside on display as he further widened his legs for (Y/N) to take her place between before she reached for his pants and tugged them off the rest of the way, leaving him in only the tatters of his Rolling Stones top.

Just as he always did since the first time he had her like this, Harry wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, giving her a show as he stroked over his length in slow runs. (Y/N) knew that if she had it in her to tear her eyes away from the sight of his tattooed hand jerking over his cock, she would find Harry with a smug smile his lips, moments away from teasing her over her rapt attention.

"C'mere, angel," Harry murmured to her, his hand still stroking with his thumb running over the tip.

(Y/N) worked on autopilot, shuffling closer to him, tattooed thighs on either side of her head with the slick sounds of his hand running over his cock filling her ears. Her breathing came out in shaky exhales, a blurt of precum bubbling at Harry's tip once she was close enough for the air to fan over the heated skin.

"Open for me," he directed, voice low and strong.

Tongue out, (Y/N) opened her mouth, finally sparing a glance to Harry's face from where he sat above her. His cheeks were now flushed, the tip of his tongue pressed into the hoop of his lip ring, the metal bobbing. He looked down at her, attention pinned to the way she heeded his commands as soon as they fell from his lips. Once he caught her eyes on him, the very corners of his lips turned upward in a small smile, her eyes rounded out and mooning up at him with her mouth open just for him.

"'Member what I told you?" he asked, pressing the tip of his prick into the flat of her tongue, a pearl of precum dragging across the buds in a tease, "'Bout telling me if y'need to stop?"

(Y/N) nodded her head as best she could without disrupting Harry as he stroked himself over her tongue. She watched as he shook his head, the curtain of his hair swaying at the motion.

"No," he settled, "Need to hear y'say it."

He backed off just enough to not allow her the excuse of pleasuring him to stop her from answering him how he wanted. Swallowing around her dry throat, (Y/N) eagerly nodded her head once more, "I do—I remember, daddy."

His hand stuttered over his length at the sound of the title. "Good girl, angel," he praised, voice strained.

Harry reached his freehand around to thread his fingers through her hair, bringing her close to his cock, her mouth falling open on instinct. He guided her with a firm hand, though careful to be gentle with the strands of hair in his fist, pushing the head of his prick into the warmth of her mouth. Upon contact, pearls of precum glazing over her tongue, (Y/N)'s eyes fell closed.

A heavy sigh fell from Harry's lips. As much as (Y/N) wanted to peek up at him, see the gape of his raspberry lips and the pinkened flush to his skin, she couldn't bring herself to leave the land of HarryHarryHarry that puddled in her system as the weight of his cock settled over her tongue.

If she was being honest, this act—taking him in her mouth—was one of her favorites. Ever since the first time she got on her knees for him, she understood why Harry wanted to spend so much time between her thighs. In an odd sense, she felt comforted by it all; his hands laced through her hair or holding her own, the weight of his fingers or cock in her mouth, and the cradle of his body enveloping her no matter the position. Not to mention the butterflies that ran rampant in her tummy as she listened to his moans and sighs of her name, knowing that she was making him feel as good as she possibly could with nothing else but her mouth and her will to please him. So, she definitely did not mind that this was how he wanted to start his birthday night off with her.

(Y/N) fell into her rhythm, bobbing her head along his length with her tongue following after in drags over his cock. Harry's hand served as little more than a reassuring weight on the back of her head, his fingers momentarily tightening and shifting in the strands the farther she took him in. Her breathing came in pants through her nose, growing heavier and heavier the longer she sucked him off. Once she felt comfortable enough, her movements easing and becoming more and more languid as she became used to the feel of him sliding in her mouth, she took him further, the very tip of his prick edging towards the tight funnel of her throat with the pillow of her tongue contracting underneath.

It was then that Harry's thighs tensed on either side of her head, the crown of his prick jumping against her tongue with a strangled call of his favorite pet name for her—angel, of course—fell from his lips. As much of a struggle as it was, (Y/N) pried her eyes open, though still hooded, and peeked up at Harry through her lashes.

She found him with his gaze already fixed to her, eyes inky black and skin flushed with a gleam of sweat collecting on his temples. The tattered fabric of his top allowed for insight into the way his inked chest contracted as his lungs filled and compressed, tattoos dancing over his skin. Gosh, the view from here—sitting under him, saliva and precum coating her lips—as she watched him fall in love with her mouth was something she wouldn't forget.

As soon as Harry caught sight of her gaze searching him over, something shifted. His hand in her hair tightened. The roots of the strands were tugged in a gentle pull as his fingers flexed, the line of Harry's jaw strengthening as he gazed down at her.

"Gonna let me be in charge now, love? Ready for me?" he asked her, voice dripping in honey-thick lust and drenched in rocky gravel. Just as (Y/N) was going to settle for a nod of her head to tell him yes, she was tugged off his cock, a slick noise filling the air as the head of his prick popped out of her mouth.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a string of her spit linking the full of her bottom lip to the tip of his cock, the salvia bowing before dropping against her chin as he drew her back. Her breathing came in broken heaves, lips glossed and eyes wide. Desperate to have him back in her mouth, feel the base of his cock under hands and his tip at the back of her throat, (Y/N) nodded her head in jerky motions. "Ye-Yes, I'm ready, daddy."

A pleased smile tugged at the corner of his lips, the ring pierced at the edge of his mouth bobbing at the motion. "And what will y'do if y'need me to stop?"

Through her hazed mind, (Y/N) wracked her brain in search of the vital piece of information he shared not even ten minutes earlier. "I-I'll tap your leg, right? Three times, and that means red—that I want to stop."

Bringing his free hand that had been wrapped in the fabric of his comforter down to cradle her jaw, Harry wiped the pad of his thumb over her swollen bottom lip, disregarding the spit and precum that pearled over the skin. The curve of his lips turned proud as he gazed down at her. "Exactly, angel. M'brave girl, aren't you?"

As silly as it was, she felt a bit bashful under these praises as she lent her cheek into his hand. "I'm trying to be."

Harry only shook his head, the loose curls around his face swaying in agreement. "You are, darling." Before she could utter any kind of protest, Harry folded over himself and pressed a kiss to her swollen lips, the peck innocent despite the fact his naked bottom half was inches from (Y/N)'s face and shining in her spit.

When he unfurled himself from the cove his body made around her, he gave a gentle graze of his thumb over her cheek before he lent back into that same hand that was now planted on the mattress behind him. That left him sitting over (Y/N) with his hand in her hair and a lazy smile on his mouth. It didn't take much coaxing her for her to follow along with his guiding hand as he tugged her forward, bringing her back to his cock.

As much as she wanted to surge ahead, take him back into the warmth of her mouth and feel the weight of the head on her tongue and the vine of his vein brushing over her lips, she allowed him to be in charge just like he said. Just as in everything else he did, Harry started gently. He worked her over his length in familiar motions, the same pace she had been curating just moments before.

It wasn't until she fell into that comforting rhythm with her eyes closed, almost taking over the motions though Harry still had a steady grip on her hair that things shifted. When her lips reached the point where she would instinctively draw back towards his tip, Harry's hand urged her to go a hair further. Her brows knitted together over her shuttered eyes though she allowed him to guide her, making a point to breath as steady as she could manage through her nose.

With his cock just barely pushing into her throat with the head brushing past the root of her tongue, (Y/N) felt herself tighten up—tummy, insides, and throat alike—before he pulled her back, the makings of the gag that constricted her muscles ebbing away before doing any damage. He took her back to her his tip, her tongue laving over him as she took advantage of the break, breath coming in deeply through her nose as her brows relaxed again.

"Alright, baby?" Harry asked, voice low and strained. She could feel his eyes on her.

Mouth full, (Y/N) nodded her head, humming an mhm around his length. Cracking her eyes open just a slice, she was granted a view of Harry looking at her with his gaze fixed on where her mouth was wrapped around his prick, his own bottom lip tucked tightly between his teeth. His hand behind him fisted the comforter, muscles straining and dancing under the layer of tattoos on his skin. Every bit of his unrestrained strength seemed to be going into that grip, leaving the hand in her hair stern but worlds more gentle than what he was putting that fistful of bedding through.

Nostrils flaring as he sucked in a deep breath, Harry gauged her reaction as he urged her forward. "Gonna do it again, alright? Gonna help you take me a little deeper."

Another hum came from her throat, Harry's thighs jumping on either side of her head. Just as before, he allowed her to get comfortable with a few passes over his prick before urging her to take him deeper, the head of his cock pushing further down her throat. A distracting moan sounded from above her, Harry's voice dredged in gravel and just as breathless as she felt. The nudge of the head at her throat was enough to make her tense up, muscles constricting around the intrusion before she could school herself into calming her reaction. Just as her breath was stolen, Harry steered her back. This time, he pulled her off his length completely, the tip popping out of her mouth, glistening in her spit with swirls of precum shining in the light.

(Y/N) shifted on her knees, the cushion underneath them dragging over the floor. Mouth dropped into a gap, she caught her breath with Harry's hand in her hair abandoning the strands in favor of sliding over her jaw and cradling her face. As gentle as he was, the second (Y/N) blinked her bleary eyes up at him, she could tell the effort to be so, was taxing.

"W-Why'd we stop?" she asked, words coming out around her uneven breaths.

She watched Harry's throat bob as he swallowed, gaze struggling to keep from dropping her to spit-slicked pout. "Wanted to give you a minute. Felt y'start to gag."

Shaking her head before he even finished, (Y/N)'s brows pinched as she looked up at him. "I don't need a minute," she said, though her ragged breathing begged to differ, "I want to keep going, daddy. I can handle it, I promise."

It was like a movie, his reaction. Harry's muscles liquified as he took in her response; the tense in his jaw disappeared, shoulders sunk, and bunched arm muscles slackened. Even his eyelids threatened to close on him. His cock had an opposing reaction, jumping against his stomach, taking (Y/N)'s eye for a moment before she urged herself to match Harry's gaze again to let him know she was being serious.

"Y'think y'can handle me, angel?"

That earned him a nod in response.

A whispered curse floated in the air between them as Harry's body came to life again, muscles tight and unforgiving. "I really hope y'can, love."

There was less than a second for (Y/N) to process his words before he shifted on the mattress, bringing himself to the very edge of the bed and closer to her face. The hand on her jawline snaked a path back into her strands, fingers threading through the hair fluffed on the back of her head. It only took a single nudge from that grip that had (Y/N) smearing her lips in a kiss over the underside of his shaft, nose skimming his length as she worked.

A shuddering breath wracked Harry's body, his head falling backwards with the curls of his hair falling down his shoulderblades as (Y/N) watched from under him. He recovered slowly as she kissed over the thick vein vining around his cock before meeting the ridge leading to the head, the tip on her tongue swiping over the sensitive skin.

Though he didn't seem to have the firmest grasp on his control, Harry told her with his best stern tone, "Wh-When we start again, 'm not gonna stop, 'kay? Said y'don't need a break, so if y'decide you do need one, you've got to stick to our rule."

Her insides warmed at his concern, no matter what, he was always going to be a worrier, even if what they were doing was her idea in the first place. She placed a single kiss to the glazed head of his prick before she drew away. "Okay, H. I understand."

She knew that was the response he was looking for when his hand flexed in her hair and a breathless smile curled his lips. A mumbled praise fell from his lips, the words being lost on their way to her ears before she was distracted with that same tight hand in her hair.

It was a routine by now, the way he eased her over his length. (Y/N) welcomed him with a slacked jaw and gaze peering up at him through the frame of her lashes before it became too much—she became too lost, and had to close her eyes. She waited for him, preparing herself with as even of breaths she could take through her nose as he took her further and further down his shaft. The first glance of his head on the back of her throat had her bracing herself with one of her hands landing on his leg, palm on his shin with her fingers digging into his calf. The hand in her lap became restless, clenching and unclenching with nudges of the heel of her palm brushing at the apex of her thighs.

Harry hesitated in the rhythm he made for her, the pushing and pulling of his hand on the back of her head stilling for just a moment as a shuddering breath sounded in the quiet of their bedroom. (Y/N) peeked her eyes open at that stall, finding him gazing down at her with his bottom lip being worried between his teeth. When his eyes caught hers, lips around his prick and gaze hooded with a shine of her spit beginning to layer over her chin, (Y/N) hummed around him, her own urging him to continue without words.

That seemed to be enough for the links of his fingers in her hair to shift, his other hand coming to join in the messy strands of her hair. He pulled her off just enough to leave the tip in her mouth as he moved over the edge of the mattress, his legs braced on either side of her with feet planted on the floor.

(Y/N) didn't realize what he was preparing for until the first thrust of his hips upwards, his cock filling her mouth though her head stayed just where he wanted her. Her spine stiffened at the feeling, the tip of his cock pushing into the tunnel of her throat. Her instincts urged her to pull back, save herself from the jolt of the intrusion, but the soothing weight of his hand made her stay just where he wanted, savoring the pump of the vein lining the underside of his cock. Instead, she shuttered her eyes and focused on breathing through her nose, however shaky the inhales were.

"Oh, fuck," Harry breathed when he felt the snug fit of her throat grow even tighter as he held her there for a beat, hips lifted from the bed. His tattooed thighs were bunched tightly, muscles stiff and unmoving as he fought to keep from bucking his hips any more. "I-I can feel you, angel—so tight. Go-Good girl, jus' keep breathing."

Hearing him so breathless, struggling over his words just as she was used to doing, made (Y/N)'s confidence soar as he reared back, backside settling back on the mattress and freeing her airways for a moment. Now maybe wasn't the time to pat herself on the back, but it felt nice hearing him praise her for allowing him to guide her into new territory and to please him like she wanted. With that praise floating in her head, she welcomed the next gentle strokes of his hips into her mouth, saturated cock sliding over her tongue before reaching the familiar home it was carving out in her throat.

His voice echoed in her ears, calling her a good girl, as she took the initiative and swallowed around him each time he tucked himself far in her mouth. She kept the gagging at bay each time she swallowed, Harry's pleasure being the most rewarding side effect of the tactic.

"L-Look at you, darling," he praised her, voice filtering through gritted teeth, "Weren't lying when y'said y'could handle me, were you? Doing so good swallowing around my cock."

If she could have, (Y/N) would have smiled at him. If she was being honest, she hadn't been completely sure of herself when she blurted out that promise—the promise that she could handle him, no breaks needed, with his prick being shoved down her throat in whichever way he saw fit. It was nice to know she hadn't been lying to him.

Instead, she only hummed a keening noise around his length, her tummy tightening when his bucking hips stuttered in their pacing. The moment he recovered he seemed to only be spurred on by that momentary lapse, the rocking of his hips growing faster though the depth of his thrusts didn't change. (Y/N)'s grip on his leg pulsed, the coarse hair under her palm grounding her to that moment. Her blood pumped past her ears in roaring waves, almost blocking out the muttering she heard Harry doing under his breath, his fingertips tugging at the roots of her hair.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he murmured, the cursing seeming involuntary, "Letting me fuck your face—su-such a angel. Go-Gonna make me cum on your face."

Something in her shifted at the idea of feeling his warmth spilling over her features, painting the highpoints of her face and dripping towards her open mouth. While it didn't inspire the prettiest of pictures of herself, (Y/N) could only imagine the loving praise that would fall from Harry's mouth.

Slick sounds erupted from around her mouth as (Y/N) laved her tongue over his cock with each thrust he pushed into her mouth. She wanted that now—she wanted the picture of her decorated in his release as he praised her with hearts in his eyes and his kiss on her neck. It was with that thought that she met his hips halfway, disregarding the hands on either side of her face.

She fixed her concentration onto the pacing of her breathing and the air filtering through her nose as she pushed herself further than Harry had done himself. Harry's own surprise was documented in the way his hips stuttered, stilling as he let her swallow as much of him as she pleased. With her focus on keeping her head from the clouds, (Y/N) didn't even realize just how far she has taken him, how much of his prick has pushed through her mouth, until the tip of her nose grazed the thatch of hair bordering his base.

With her head moments from floating up into clouds she couldn't even fathom reaching, she realized just how surrounded she was by him; heavy hands in her hair, his length down her throat, thighs on either side of her head with her own hand wrapped around his ankle. The sound of his harsh breathing took over the room, choked and muffled with curse words thrown into the mix as her throat constricted around him and took the little bit of clarity he had left in his brain.

(Y/N) held herself there for as long as she could stand. Her breathing was stilted, only the smallest amounts of air clearing to her lungs with her eyes watering and head growing cloudier and cloudier the longer she stayed there. His cock pulsed over her tongue, the vein along the bottom throbbing, balls tucked tight against his base with her chin nudging against them.

He was going to cum, now, right? She probably needed to pull off and let him finish on her face, just like she wanted, but that sounded like too much work in the momen—

It wasn't until she felt Harry's hands in her hair change, his grip stiffening with fingers tight. He pulled her off as gently as he could manage in the moment, the sting at her roots bringing a ping of welcomed clarity when she was pushed back on her heels at his feet.

Before she could peel her eyes open, Harry's hands in her hair disappeared, the sound of the mattress depressing filled the space between them as she fought for her breath. Finally finding the energy to blink her eyes open, she found Harry laid back on the bad, chest heaving as he sucked in lungfuls of air and his arms splayed out at his sides.

A breathless, hoarse laugh fell from her lips as she climbed onto the bed beside him. His eyes were closed with his dark curls haloed around his head, lips pink and puffy just like his cheeks.

"Harry?" she asked, her voice coming out as a croak. She really did take him deep, didn't she?

"Give me a minute," he whispered, sounding exhausted despite his cock still hard between his legs.

A beat passed as she fought with herself to not throw her leg over his hips and straddle him, wanting him to take full advantage of the moment he was asking for. Was this his red?

"Are you okay?" she asked after a moment, itching to pull his shirt off and place her hands over his chest, dent her fingers into the garden of tattoos on his skin.

It took a minute before Harry seemed to urge his eyes open, the jade green of his irises drained to a forest shade that rivaled the black of his expanded pupils. He took her in, his gaze tracing over her features in slow runs as he took his time.

"Angel," he started, voice thick, "Y'deepthroated me, and you're wondering if 'm okay?"

(Y/N) canted her head at his words. She didn't know there was a special word for what just happened.

A breathy laugh fell from his lips as he smiled up at her. "'M perfect, baby," he said, "Had to make y'stop or I was gonna cum, and I haven't even fucked you yet."

His eyes fell closed again as he sunk his head into the mattress, almost in disbelief at the beginning of the night's events. His tongue peeked out, the tip lining the full of his bottom lip before nudging the ring pierced through the side, his breathing still less than even. (Y/N) couldn't help herself as she watched him, reaching out and dragging a careful finger at the bottom of his shirt, pulling the hem upwards. More and more of his middle was revealed as she dragged her hands over his body: glistening tattoos pasted over tensed muscles, the pink tint to his skin that colored the designs between the black lines, and what she could have sworn was his heart thumping out his chest as she trailed her hand over him.

Suddenly, just as she was getting close enough to possibly pull the shirt from his body completely, a tattooed hand complete with black painted nails reached out and grabbed for her wrist. Laying her gaze over his form, she traced the column of his neck and the hard line of his jaw until she found his darkened gaze pinned right to her and a smug smile on his lips.

"No, not yet, love," he stopped her, edging her hand back down his body and pulling his shirt along with them in the process, "I don't think 's fair for me to be the only one naked on m'birthday."

No wonder she felt so hot, (Y/N) realized. She was fully clothed, a pair of leggings that felt more like an hindrance than anything comfortable still wrapped around her legs and the slouchy sweater she couldn't believe made it through the night.

Another breathy laugh came from Harry as he watched her reaction, his own hand landing on the thick of her legging covered thigh. He slid up the length of her leg before finding the rounded curve of her bottom from where she sat on her heels. He patted the soft curve, urging her towards the edge of the bed.

"Go on, love," he crooned, "Get undressed for me, yeah? Wanna look at you."

That was all it took for him to earn an eager nod of her head and a scramble of her limbs towards the edge. Another deep chuckle sounded from behind her as she landed on the flat of her feet, socks padding over the rug. She could feel his eyes on her back as she raced to join him, to shed layers of clothing that did nothing but keep her from feeling her Harry.

Her shirt was the first to go, leaving only a sheer, white triangle bralette to cover her chest before her leggings and socks were second to join the pile on the floor. The matching pair of panties tucked between her thighs did little to conceal the effect sucking his cock had on her, a wet patch darkening the delicate material. (Y/N) adjusted the cheeky cut of her underwear with her back to Harry, dipping her fingers beneath the waistline of it just as she heard him let out a low whistling exhale behind her.

Looking over her shoulder, (Y/N) furrowed her brows until she found Harry sitting up with his gaze pinned on her, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth and a teasing look in his eyes that matched the tugs at the corner of his lips. "What?" she asked with a smile to her tone.

Harry shook his head with a lopsided smile and single dimple denting his cheek. "Nothing, jus' like looking at you."

She couldn't help herself before she was climbing onto his lap, core brushing his uncovered cock. Though a shiver ran up her spine, she didn't lose her smile as she straddled his hips and held his jaw in her hands.

"You're not supposed to be saying stuff like that tonight, H. Its your birthday, so I'm supposed to be telling you how cute you are." Her argument was punctuated with a brief kiss to his lips, the contact soft and innocent despite the feral way her lips got so swollen in the first place.

His head tilted in her hands, a teasingly pouted look on his face. "'M only cute? Y'take me all the way down your throat, and all I am is cute to you?"

A blurt of laughter fell from her lips at his reasoning, her hands on his face falling so she could wrap around his shoulders in a hug with her face tucked into his neck. "You can't say it like that," she giggled into his neck, lips brushing the tattoos she hoped would one day include a pair of angel's wings.

"Why not?" he countered, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her steady as he jostled at her sudden hug, "That's what happened, right?"

"Shhh," she teased, shaking her head as best she could in his neck. She melted in his hold, his arm around her waist and his chest against hers being the main things keeping her upright in that moment. Her next words came out in a whisper though her smile was still audible, "You're handsome, too, you know."

She felt his laugh more than she heard it as it rumbled his chest. "I am?"

"Mhm, not just cute," she explained, fingers splayed across the warm expanse of his back. She hesitated around her next words, drawing herself closer to him as if she could hide in his arms, "I—um—And, I think you're sexy."

This earned her a full laugh that rumbled his chest and spilled over her bare shoulder as he held her. "You know," he said, falling back onto the mattress with her lying atop him, "I don't think I've ever heard y'say that about me—call me sexy, I mean."

Her cheeks were hot as she tried to press closer to him. "Harry, I'm trying. Be nice," she whined, though her pout held little impact through her impending smile.

"I am, I am," he argued, turning his face in an effort to press his lips against her temple, "Jus' think 's cute, that's all. I like that y'think 'm sexy."

Hearing the word fall from his lips sounded much less juvenile than it did in her own voice. "Well, I do—I do think that," she whispered into his neck, dotting the skin with a kiss.

"I know, cutie," he murmured to her, words as gentle as his tone. He shifted over the bed with her, the comforter ruffling around them as he turned to her with the tip of his nose skimming her skin, "C'mere and give me a kiss."

(Y/N) didn't take much coaxing before she listened to his instruction, drawing away from the warm home she made in his neck. Her mouth was smoothed over his in a moment, her bottom lip tucked between his two. She melted into the contact with a sigh that was swallowed by her Harry, her contentment coating over his tongue as he swiped it across her own after parting her mouth. Her arms she had fit around his shoulders kept her stable once she realized Harry was shifting under her, having become too lost in their kiss—the first real taste of him she'd had since retreating from her spot on her knees—to notice him rolling them over until her back was flat on the mattress.

His arms were a cage around her before they retreated, the ruffled black duvet coming up in tufts around her body as she sunk into her skin, warm and pliant as he moved her. Her head came to rest on the pillows bordering the headboard, black silk cradling her head and splaying delicate strands of hair across the fabric. Harry drew away from her kiss, leaving (Y/N) with uneven breathing and heated cheeks. With delicate hands that had landed on either side of her head once he moved her, he plucked those rogue hairs off her face, disentangling them from her lashes and pulling pieces that stuck to the slick of her lips. His fingers moved like his eyes, delicately over her features in praising grazes of contact. A slow smile made its home on his lips, dimples deep and sweet in his cheeks.

"You're so pretty, you know that?" he murmured, his voice dreamy and quiet like a secret, as if his prick wasn't pressing into the soft of her tummy, precum decorating the skin. "M'dream girl."

He knew exactly the effect that specific compliment would grant him: a bashful smile, a flutter of her lashes, and a turn of her head towards her shoulder as if she couldn't handle being under his loving gaze any longer though she lived for the affection in his eyes. That's why he loved saying it—other than the fact that it was the truth, of course.

"Stop, you're going to make me cry," she teasingly complained, threading her fingers through his hair.

The smile on his lips only grew at her faux complaint. "You're right," he hummed, shaking his head, "Can't have y'crying jus' yet—that's for after I've had m'way with you, right?"

She seemed to go speechless at his words, throat dry as she tried to imagine the kind of pleasure carting through her body that would elicit tears. Maybe he noticed the way her breathing hitched or the ratcheting of her pulse under the delicate skin of her neck, but Harry looked all too smug as he took her in.

"Yeah? Like that idea?" he mused, dropping his head to kiss just where her blood was pumping at a hammering pace in her throat. He shifted over her as he did so, his cock pressing into her tummy, balls hitting her clit with a pressure that made his own prick jump and (Y/N)'s stomach tighten with a too-tight ribbon around her middle.

In a shy nod, (Y/N) admitted her interest in the idea of being driven to tears by his touch alone. Taking advantage of the hiding place he offered with his bared neck and broad, tattooed shoulder, she whispered into his skin, "H-How would you make me cry?"

The air in his lungs seemed to be heavy as he exhaled slowly, the air fanning over her skin. "Want me to tell you, or show you?"

It only took a split second for her to make up her mind.

"Show me."

A grumbled sigh of approval shook Harry's chest. His smile could be felt against the line of her jaw just before he drew back from her form. Escaping the hold of her thighs, Harry maneuvered to sit back on his heels between her legs. Running a heavy hand through his hair, he looked entirely too satisfied his gaze racked over her form.

"Turn over for me, lovebug," he commanded, voice gentle and forgiving despite the steely suggestion.

(Y/N) hesitated for only a moment, her eyes rounding out as she looked up at him with confusion swimming through her irises, before listening to his instruction. Backing up, he gave her space to sprawl over the bedding before she settled with her tummy against the mattress and her cheek smushed into the black satin pillowcase. Her body felt restless with Harry's presence hovering just behind her, the bed giving way under him as he made careful work of spreading her legs and settling himself on his heels between them once again. He'd never asked her to do something like this before, to lay in a position like this.

With that thought, a stoplight pinged in (Y/N)'s head.

Lifting her head from the pillow, and looking at Harry over her shoulder, she asked, "W-What's your color?"

She just barely caught the way a smile bloomed over his features in a slow tug from the corner of her eye. Planting his fists on either side of her waist, Harry lent forward with that same tender grin and dropped a kiss to the full of her heated cheek once he was close enough.

"'M so green, angel," he crooned into her skin, the full of his lips grazing her cheek, "What's your color, hm?"

Nodding her head as best she could, she reveled in the familiar contact of his mouth pressing into her skin. "Green—I'm a little nervous because I don't think we've done something like this before, but I have good butterflies over it."

His smile only grew at her explanation, the curve felt against her skin one more time before he dropped another kiss and lent back. "Good," he murmured, "Tell me if your butterflies change then, alright? We only want the good ones."

Another nod of her head came as she sunk back into the black cased pillow, her cheek smushing into the down. "I will, daddy."

Harry's eyes could be felt dragging over her skin as (Y/N) allowed herself to melt into the bedding with eyes closed. Despite the butterflies over the new position, she was comforted by the reminder that this was her Harry. He was going to take good care of her, no doubt.

"Y'look so pretty spread out like this, you know that?" he mused, "You're right, I think. I've never had you on your tummy like this before, have I?" Though she was sure it was a rhetorical question, one of his musings he put out into the world for no other reason than to fluster her, she still hummed an agreement and shook her head as best she could. Harry hummed in response, his hands coming to lay on the backs of her thighs, palms warm and heavy over the soft skin. They made a teasing pass over the skin, his fingertips brushing against the crease where her thighs met her ass and lingered for only a second before repeating the trek downwards to safer territory over her skin. "Thinking I should do it more often, though, don't you think?"

At this point, with his hands tracing a trail over her skin and his voice reverberating in her ears and echoing through her system, (Y/N) was sure he could suggest anything and she'd agree whole-heartedly, no questions asked. That was how easy it was for him to earn a nod of her head and a keening confirmation that she loved where his mind was going as he gazed at her body.

His appraisal of her body lingered for moments longer, Harry muttering praises beneath his breath that had her skin heating and tummy turning just before he stopped with his hands on her sides. His fingers wedged themselves between her hips and the bed before giving a gentle tug. "Budge up for me, angel."

Lifting her hips, she did as told while Harry reached for a pillow laid askew on his side the bed. The plush square was folded beneath her hips, helping to prop her up as she let her weight sink into the down and the bent knees she planted on the bed. Her body was presented to him with her ass up and pussy on display with the help of her spread legs, the damp patch she felt clinging to her form no longer hidden.

"This alright?" he asked her, refitting himself behind her, the slope of her body allowing only an obstructed view of him now.

His question earned a quiet nod of her head, her breathing hitching when she felt the press of his hard cock on the inside of her thigh.

"Still green?"

"Still green, daddy."

He hummed as he allowed his hands to settle on her raised hips, fingers splayed across the soft of her skin. It only took a moment for those same fingers to wiggle their way underneath the waistband of her panties, the cheeky cut of the fabric digging into the cheeks of her bottom.

"Wish y'could see how pretty y'look for me like this," Harry murmured, his gaze burning almost as hot as his hands on her skin, "Got your ass up in my face like 's m'birthday present. Best birthday I've ever had, that's for sure."

Absently, (Y/N) felt her back arch at his words, presenting herself to him in a way she hoped would garner more praise from her position. If he liked her butt, she wanted to make sure she gave him every bit of the present she was being described as.

A breathy laugh was heard from behind her before the exhale fanned over her heated skin, the amused sound being punctuated with a whispered cutie, falling under Harry's breath. He stayed quiet then as he took her in, his hands under the line of her panties shifting until his heavy palms groped at her bottom. The inside of (Y/N)'s thigh grew wet as a blurt of precum leaked over the skin.

"Y'like showing off for me like this?" Harry asked, a mocking edge to his tone that made the butterflies in her tummy sing and flutter, "Showing me your cute little ass and wet pussy though your panties?"

Her lungs twisted, unable to hold much air in them as she listened to Harry. She hadn't quite thought of it as showing off when she arched her back for him, but maybe there was something to be said about the way she lent back into his touch and only wanted to do more—show more for him and see if he liked it just as much as this view.

Harry exhaled another laugh when she pushed back against his hands. The motion caused his hands to graze over her backside, fingertips denting the delicate flesh and thumbs hooking into the fabric of her panties. Her underwear collected on the webbing between his thumb as forefinger, the clinging material following after him and pulling up tight against her bottom. (Y/N)'s breathing hitched when she stopped, Harry having taken over and tugged at her underwear until the fabric was bunched tight between her cheeks, showing off the full of her ass.

(Y/N) fell still under his hands as one of them disappeared, the mattress depressing by her feet where she assumed he had planted his fist in the bed. That left one of his hands on her body. His palm lazily dragged over the waistband of her panties, a low breath being let out behind her as Harry's fist wrapped around her underwear, just above where majority of the fabric was bunched between the split in her backside. Even the front of her panties was tugged back, the outline of her slit clear as day through the sodden fabric as it was retched back.

His grip tightened until all that was seen was a white sliver in the cleft of her bottom, a satisfied hum sounding from Harry at the view.

"Knew y'liked showing off for me," he drawled, voice thick and heavy as he gripped her panties tighter and pulled just a hair on the waistband, the fabric beginning to wedge itself between the folds of her pussy. A sharp jolt was delivered through her system as her underwear pressed unforgivingly against her clit before Harry let up on the tug, her thighs relaxing now. "I don't blame you," Harry continued, knocking (Y/N) out of her stupor that even stopped her from breathing, "not at all, angel. Y'have such a pretty body, no reason to hide it—especially from me."

The free hand she figured was planted by her feet returned as his thumb appeared at the apex between her thighs. The pad of his finger pushed against the clear split outlined through her underwear, trailing up and down in the same teasing runs he delivered when he was grazing her bare skin. He prodded gently at where he knew her weeping hole was, (Y/N) jumping when she felt the brush of her panties being pushed against her tight opening. Harry soothed her in quiet coos as he moved onto the top of her slit, where her clit was bundled against her fabric.

"Gonna whine for me again if I touch y'here?" he murmured, the tip of his thumb just barely pushing against her clit as he spoke.

The only response he got was a wet gasp as her mouth popped open, unable to suck in enough air in anticipation.

He didn't hesitate then to smear the pad of his thumb over her covered pearl, the sticky fabric wetting his finger. Just as he suspected, (Y/N) felt her body sag at the relief of feeling something pressing into her—anything giving her the kind of pleasure she'd been aching for since she found herself at Harry's feet.

Harry played with her, grazing over her in light circles that barely allowed anything to register other than the lingering brushes of his thumb. (Y/N) was only halfway aware of the arch to her back and the way she pressed back against him in hopes of earning more of his touch. She could have cried the second she felt his hand retreat, all the pleasure and the warmth leaving along with him.

"H-Harr—" (Y/N) was cut off by her own moan, the second half of his name dying on her tongue when she felt a soft smack of his hand laying across her center.

"Angel," Harry hummed, both hands now soothing the back of her thighs as if to make up for the momentary sting delivered to her most delicate parts. "Wanna tell me your color?"

Her answer struggled its way through her throat, the priority of breathing taking precedent in that moment. The lag seemed to worry Harry as his presence behind her shifted, his hand landing on the outside of her thighs before he hovered over her back, necklace dragging cross the knobs of her spine. He was closer now as she could tell by the heat seeping into her skin from his chest and the rumble of his voice into her ear.

"'S okay if 's not green, okay? Tell me how y'feel and we'll work together to make y'feel good, remember?"

Something akin to panic tugged at her tummy. He thought she didn't like it, didn't want that hot rush that followed after his hand departed from her pussy. He thought she wanted to stop—or slow down, or anything that wasn't continuing exactly what he started.

"No, no," she rushed, shaking her head, eyes cinched shut with her cheek pressed into the down of his silken pillow, "I'm green, I'm green! I liked that—d-don't stop, please, daddy."

Harry's breathing changed, the even paced exhales and silent inhales disappearing in a hitch. "Y'liked that, angel? Promise?"

"I-I promise," she agreed as quick as she could get out the words, "I liked it, daddy."

A kiss was draped to the cuff of her shoulder before Harry dragged himself away, taking his seat back between her legs. His hands on her thighs rounded to the backside again, one trailing dangerously close to where (Y/N) swore she could feel a flutter of a faux-heartbeat. His honey-thick gaze was almost as tangible as the hands she felt on her as she waited.

"Then, I guess I'll jus' have to do it again, won't I, angel? Can't say no to you when you've been so good, telling me all your colors and being so sweet letting me be rough with you. 'S the least I can do to spank your pussy like y'like, isn't it?"

Gosh, when he says it like that... She definitely had a second heartbeat.

Before she could even form any kind of plea, she felt the loss of his hand on the back of her thigh before a swift smack was delivered to the softness between her legs. A gasp escaped her lips, body jolting at the extra bit of strength he added to this particular swat. A moment of reprieve was granted in the way Harry bent over and pressed a kiss to the curve of her bottom, his once offending hand now running laps along the back of her thigh in soothing runs. She knew she must have calmed down enough on the outside when Harry retreated, leaving only one hand on her thigh and the other waiting to deliver what (Y/N) was beginning to crave.

A third swift spank came with a soft thump of his palm against her pussy, this one the hardest of the trio though still extremely gentle, Harry using the barest amount of his strength. (Y/N) arched her back at the contact, her clit throbbing in the aftermath. Her body vibrated like a cymbal for a moment as she didn't even attempt to collect herself.

"Oh look at that," Harry awed, his palms slipping down the backs of her thighs and settled on her calves, "Got your toes curling and everything. Y'really do like this, angel. Gonna have to remember that one."

(Y/N) didn't even realize she was nodding her head until she heard Harry's adoring laugh filter through the room along with a declaration that she was so cute following right after. His touch shifted over her body then, traveling up the backs of her thighs to the soft of her ass before working under the waist of her panties. (Y/N) prepared herself for another of those teasing tugs to be given to the fabric, pulling it tight against her form, just before the opposite happened and Harry took them down. The underwear lingered over her center, the wet material clinging to her for a moment before it gave and he could work it down the soft of her thighs. She helped him as he pulled them down the length of her legs, lifting her knees and feet when he needed until her panties joined the pile on the floor.

Now bare except for the flimsy make of her bralette, (Y/N) felt especially vulnerable in her position with Harry behind her. There was no way she could hide now, each of her reactions and most intimate places left on display for her lover. Harry's breathing was heavy behind her in the way she could picture his chest heaving with a pink flush coloring through his chest tattoos before working up his neck in search of his cheeks. She would even bet that the tip of his cock was now the same flushed red shade that matched his lips after he bit them or allowed her to kiss them to her heart's content.

"Look at you, lovebug," he crooned as he shuffled behind her, his knees knocking into her own before widening their berth, "You're so wet for me. Must have been really torturing you if you're this sticky, hm? Letting y'suck m'cock only to pull y'up here like 'm going to fuck you, but I jus' keep playing with you instead. Gonna have to take good care of you to make up for it all."

(Y/N) didn't even think before she pushed up against him, his cock nudging at her inner thigh while her pussy kissed at the bottom of his tummy. The only thing that rung through her mind was his promise to take care of her now, that it was her turn to feel satisfaction.

"Please, please," she pleaded, "I want you, Harry."

His voice was strained as he spoke again, "Don't worry, love, you'll have me." His soothing came along with the feel of his palm landing heavily over the small of her back, fingers splaying out.

One cursory rock of his hips slid his cock up against her pussy, slipping between her folds and brushing the underside along her pearled clit. (Y/N)'s cry was cut off with only half of her oh my— making its way out of her mouth before the rest fizzled in her throat. Harry's own praising groan was loud between the walls of his bedroom, loud enough (Y/N) heard it over the rushing of her heartbeat in her ears.

She needed that—needed him—in her right now. That was going to be the only way her body was going to settle enough to be present in the moment with him, she knew that.

Harry seemed to be on the same page when he asked through his ticked jaw: "Are we using a rubber tonight, love?"

"No, no, I just want you, please," she bubbled, the response coming like second-nature. She wanted to feel all of him tonight, nothing to separate them.

A whispered celebration of fuck, yes, slipped out of Harry's mouth, the words bringing a small smile to (Y/N)'s lips. Nice to know she wasn't the only one that liked that they had the option to go without now.

"Tr-Try to stay up on your knees with your back arched for me like this, yeah?" Harry started, one of his hands fitting between the both of them, assumedly to grab for the base of his cock, "But if y'get tired, I gave y'that pillow for a reason. It'll hold y'up if y'need it, okay?"

"Okay," she peeped out, already steeling herself in hopes of staying in position for him. She was still on her mission to be the best little birthday present he'd ever had, anyway.

"And you'll tell me if your color changes from green."

His words were less of a request and more of a direct order (Y/N) still nodded her confirmation to.

"And, you'll tell me if yours changes?" she asked a moment later, voice breathless.

The hand splayed over the small of her back moved in a soothing run over the line of her spine. "I will, love, don't worry," he assured her through a smile she could hear.

(Y/N) felt the knock of his knees hit the inside of her own as he adjusted his stance behind her just before her heart was pushed off rhythm when the tip of his cock brushed the bump of her clit. A sigh escaped her lips at the contact, Harry's hand at the small of her back working to soothe her with his thumb circling in the dimple at the base of her spine. He continued to coo to her as he ran the head of his prick through her folds, collecting all of her wetness to join the glaze of his precum and the wet of her saliva over his shaft.

"Ready?" he murmured to her, always the one wanting to double check with her.

"Please," she answered, voice floating between them on a broken breath.

Harry didn't waste anther second before he nudged the crown of his cock at the opening of her wetness, her walls fluttering at the minimal contact and making it that much harder for Harry to slip inside.

"Relax, baby," he crooned, voice as soft as his fingertips on her back, "Want me in, right?"

"I do, I do," she confirmed, her words running together in her haste to get them out, "I'm just ex-excited, I'm sorry."

A huffed laugh sounded from behind her. "'S okay, love. 'M excited, too, trust me. Jus' relax a little so I can give y'what y'want."

She let out a murmured string of okay, okay, as she nodded her head into the pillow beneath her cheek. Taking deep breaths, she felt Harry working another circuit of his cock through her slit, willing herself to calm down and settle when she felt him nudge at her entrance one more time. Keening into the bed, the arch of her back deepening, she felt him push in, the head pushing through her clinched walls.

"There we go, baby," he praised her, slipping further and further inside once the ridge of his crown popped inside, "Doing so good for me."

(Y/N) felt a smile curve her lips at his words, willing herself to keep the clenching of muscles to her thighs as he pushed forward before bottoming out. His thighs were pushed against the back of her own, balls flush against her, with his hands shifting over her heated skin and grabbing at her hips. Harry stilled inside her, allowing for an adjustment period she still needed no matter how many times he had her.

With his thumbs following the flared line of her hips, (Y/N) felt his warmth spread over her as he folded himself over her back. The hard muscles that lined his chest and stomach were pressed against her back just as she felt the pillows of his lips press a kiss to her shoulder.

"Harry," she whined without meaning to, the call quiet between the two of them.

"'M here, 'm here," he cooed, dropping another kiss to the corner of her lips, "I've got you, love, don't worry."

He earned an absent nod of her head with his reassurances before her next sentiment left her mouth: "I love you."

His smile could be felt against the full of her cheek before he proceeded to try and kiss her through the curve. "I love you, too."

Harry lingered over her for a few more moments, cradling her with his own body before smearing a kiss on her shoulder and straightening out his spine. He gave a cursory rock of his hips behind her, nothing more than a short grind of his pelvis into her center that knocked a breathless moan loose from (Y/N)'s chest.

"More," she requested, the word more delicate than she intended with the breathlessness of her voice.

Without hearing anything other than a short, rumbling hum from Harry, she felt the loss of his body as he reared back, her mourning was short-lived before he was pushing into her again. Harry bottomed out with a sigh, this new position allowing him to press as deep as he could into her without the cradle of her legs stopping him.

"Y'feel so good, baby, so fucking good," he said, voice strained.

(Y/N) wanted to say something back, tell him that he felt even better, that she felt so full with him inside her and he'd never been deeper, but every sentiment died in her throat when he gave her another deep thrust. Without a condom, she was able to feel every vein and ridge lining his cock, the head nudging as far as she'd ever felt him. Her walls fluttered around him as he curated a rhythm that had the breath knocked out of her with each stroke inside. The only other sounds that could be heard over her breathless moans was the slap of his skin against hers and the growing wetness that slicked his cock with each thrust.

She couldn't help herself but bury her face in the pillow under her cheek, each of her breathless calls of his name and the heavy slices of air that came tumbling from her lungs now muffled by the down. Her body jolted with every heady thrust he delivered to her center, cock sliding through her walls, hips smacking into her bottom, and balls tapping her clit in way that felt similar to the way his hand had been brought down on her earlier. Her toes curled over themselves as she steeled her legs to keep from giving out and to ruin the position she was in for her Harry. Even her hands were bundled into the deep black of the duvet, wishing they were instead threaded between the fingers pinching at the full of her hips.

Harry gave a particularly hard roll of his hips, the stroke quick and cutting though he lingered as he worked the crown of his prick against her farthest walls. (Y/N) couldn't stop the cry that left her mouth in a wet gasp, the Oh my gosh!, muffled by the pillow just before one of his hands on her hips disappeared. His unrelenting rhythm never ceased even when she felt that hand reappear in her hair, familiar fingers threading through her strands and tugging at the root. Though he was still much more gentle than she was sure other people would have been committing the same act, (Y/N) was still pulled away from the sanctuary she found in his pillow at the force of his grip, neck bared against the satin.

"No, not allowed to hide from me like that, angel," Harry grumbled, breathless and panting though his command still maintained a steel edge, "Gotta let me hear you, or 'm stopping, alright? Be good for me."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, daddy," she bubbled, voice throaty given her position, "I won't do it again, I'm sorry."

"'S okay, baby," he told her, another roll of his hips delivered when he bottomed out, balls pressing into her swollen clit, "I know y'don't mean to be bad, 's okay. Daddy's still got you."

His fingers left her hair in soothing runs over her scalp before he pet his palm over her mussed strands. As she adjusted herself to lay with her cheek smushed into the pillow once more, she felt his hand settle on the back of her neck, a welcome weight that reassured her that he really did have her.

"Feel good, angel?" he asked her, hips stuttering when she felt her insides tighten at the use of her favorite petname, "L-Like having me like this?"

"Uh-huh," she breathed, "Y-You're so deep. It's like you're in my tummy."

When she heard the groan that worked its way out from behind his sternum fill the room, (Y/N) cracked open her eyes just enough to see him over the curve of her shoulder. He was a dirty dream as he thrust into her, raspberry lips parted and swollen while his attention was fixed on where he was disappearing inside her. The curls of his hair acted as a dark curtain falling around his shoulders, though the smallest of baby curls were pasted to the sides of his face and gleamed with sweat. His skin was covered in that same sheen of perspiration, animating his tattoos as he flexed his muscles and worked himself in and out of her at a rewarding pace. The length of his arm was on show with the way he had it stretched over her back with his palm pressed into the back of her neck, bicep tight while his grip was gentle.

"Y-Yeah?" he gritted out, "Y'like that?"

"Mhm," she hummed, sucking in a deep breath before it was knocked from her lungs by the driving of his hips, "I w-want more—want you everywhere."

Harry's response came in the form of mumbled praises that (Y/N) was too gone to hear, only knowing that he said anything by the way his lips moved. His hand on the back of her neck shifted as she watched the muscles in his arm flex, his palm sliding down the line of her spine before rejoining the one that remained on her hips. She watched him work over her for a moment longer before she realized the strain on her hips he was putting on her, as if he were pushing down on them.

"Harry, I-I can't—You're p-pushing—"

"I know, angel," he murmured to her, "Jus' relax and lay into your pillow a little, okay? Gonna make sure 'm everywhere for you, like y'want."

She didn't have much room to ask any questions, especially when she got the okay to lose the position that was beginning to make her thighs and back ache. Slowly sinking down into the fluff of the pillow propping her hips up, the slope of her body decreased until she was raised up only at her hips with her knees sliding out from under her until only a small bend remained.

Harry slowed behind her, his grip on her switching to cradle the curve of her waist. (Y/N) used that moment to recover as she felt him shift behind her, her breathing coming in even paces now that he was warming himself inside of her instead of knocking her breath from her lungs with each stroke. Her eyes fell closed during this moment, leaving her only to feel Harry's body hover over hers.

Unlike earlier in the night, Harry didn't settle with hovering over her. He allowed the weight of his body to press into her back, sinking her into the bed below her. The familiar cradle of his chest and stomach returned with the blocky muscles now heavy on her body as he pressed into her back. He tucked his face into her shoulder, his breathing coming out in humid puffs that clung to the bare of her skin.

(Y/N) felt her insides pulse when she realized what he was doing: she felt him everywhere.

His mouth was pasted to her skin in smearing kisses while he gave rocks of his hips into her, not even pulling his cock out before he was trying to press deeper into her. His body was heavy over her own, not allowing her to feel anything but the sheets beneath her and the hot press of his body from above.

"This alright, baby? Can feel y'clenching around me." His tone was deep and lazy as it sunk into her pores, not even bothering to lift his mouth from her skin before talking. Just another bit of him she now felt inside her.

"Y-You're everywhere," she keened, a wet gasp falling from her lips at the feel of his grinding hips.

"This is what y'wanted, right?" he breathed.

"Yes, yes, daddy," she cried, "Thank you, thank you."

Harry's smile was imprinted on her shoulder. His thumbs on her waist worked soothing circuits over the curve, a gentle reward for her politeness she couldn't seem to shake. "Good girl, so polite."

As much as she was reveling in the full contact he was granting her with his body pressing her into the mattress, she was missing the heady strokes of his hips into hers. (Y/N) couldn't help herself before she hooked her ankles around Harry's own legs, the vining curve of her legs urging him into her while she pressed her bottom back into his hips.

A breathy laugh was delivered to the back of her shoulder while his hands on her waist solidified their hold. "Yeah? Ready for more?"

"Please."

That was all it took for Harry to rear his hips back, crevices created between their bodies that left her cold for the moment before he was pushing into her again. With how close she wanted him, he didn't dare pull out of her as far as he had been before, instead staying near her and sinking into her with shallow thrusts though his pace quickened.

His panting could be heard loud in her ear, his own breathing mimicking the knocked tempo of hers. With every bit of their bodies pressed together and the matching pace of their breathing, (Y/N) swore she wouldn't have been able to discern who was who in that moment; where one of them began and the other ended. She liked that.

Just as her fingers began to curl into the tuft of bedding she was sure she was going to rip a hole into by the end of the night, one of Harry's hands abandoned her waist only to wiggle between her palm and the distressed patch of duvet she was imprinting her nails into. The second (Y/N) realized he was trying to hold her hand, she was quick to replace the comforter in her grip with his fingers threaded between her own. Her heart squeezed at the fact he still wanted to hold her hand in a moment like this.

The familiar contact was enough to ground (Y/N) as Harry relentlessly thrust into her, her clit swollen and aching with each smack of his balls against the sensitive pearl. Even her eyes began to burn as she took in every inch of space that was being set ablaze by Harry's touch. If this was how he planned on making her cry tonight, he was definitely achieving as much. With his hand in hers, (Y/N) acted on instinct as she brought the bundle of limbs up to the pillow beside her head.

At first, she only pressed innocent kisses to the line of his thumb. She could hear Harry's amusement at her affection in the breathless laugh that sounded between grinds of his hips, though he never dared to pull his hand away. Once she reached the tip of his finger, swollen lips kissing at the black of his fingernail, she gingerly pulled him into her mouth.

The hard muscles of Harry's stomach twitched against the small of her back, pelvis stuttering as he drove into her, when the wet of her mouth enveloped the tip of his thumb. A whispered curse was smeared into her skin as he allowed her to pry his digit away from the bundle of their hands, (Y/N) taking him in her mouth until his finger was completely wrapped in the warmth of her mouth. She sucked over his thumb much like she had with his cock at the beginning of the night, her tongue contentedly moving over him in lazy strokes.

For (Y/N), this was, more than anything, another way to have him with her—another avenue to be close to him in the middle of all the lengths they were going to to be as near as possible to one another. It was comforting to have him in her mouth, anyway, and she knew Harry liked it when she sucked on his fingers, too.

As much could be seen in the way he began to breathe like the wind had been knocked out of him and his cock twitched and throbbed inside of her. "Fuck, you're gonna make me cum if y'keep doing that," he panted, voice seemingly dipped in honey and rolled in gravel with the way it rumbled through his chest and poured over her skin.

(Y/N) only nodded her head in jerky motions, his thumb still cozied in her mouth, wanting to feel exactly what was churning behind his stomach muscles that were still pressed into her back.

"Y'want that? Want me to cum for you?"

"Please," she lisped around his thumb, the word sounding a lot more like pleathe.

His sweats slicked forehead dropped against her shoulder, the curated pace he had made with the rolls of his hips coming undone as he seemed at war with himself. After a moment, (Y/N) all too content to lay right there with Harry all around and in her, she felt him shake his head.

"I can't, baby, not yet," he told her, words coming out through gritted teeth, "Wanna see your pretty face when I cum, 's that alright?"

The thought of being face to face with him again tugged at the bottom of her heart, urging her to smile though she was much more occupied with Harry's finger pressing into the pad of her tongue. Reluctantly, she drew it from her mouth, now spit slicked and shining in the low light of his bedroom.

"I wanna see you too," she told him, voice hoarse, "I miss you."

Harry's voice was unsteady as if he were on the verge of tears as he spoke, "You're so cute, baby."

Just after pressing a heavy kiss to her cheek, Harry peeled himself off her back. His hand retreated from hers though he still offered her a small squeeze before he situated himself between her thighs once again. Pulling his cock from her warmth, she was left without any connection to him aside from his thighs pressed into hers. She felt cold laying there without him, hips still raised by the help of his pillow under them.

"Wh—"

(Y/N) didn't have a chance to finish her question before Harry barred his arm under her waist and flipped her over under him. He untangled the mess of her legs and pushed the pillow off the bed, as he positioned her just where he wanted her before she could even collect her head and reorient herself.

"There y'are," he crooned as he placed himself between her thighs, her bent knees on either side of him, "Missed your face, too, angel."

Her hands were quick to cradle his face between her palms, her smile bright though she was leaning towards exhausted after all that had happened since they stepped into his bedroom. She used that grip on him to tug him down for a kiss, missing his lips and detesting the fact they'd barely kissed all night. Harry was a more than willing participant to make up for the lost time, slotting his lips between hers and chasing the taste of the mouth he'd missed all night.

Distracted by the taste of his tongue slipping over her own and the comfort of the familiar act, (Y/N) hadn't even realized he slipped one of his hands between them until he lined up his cock with her weeping hole and he slipped right inside with a slick noise sounding in the room. He swallowed the aching sigh that escaped her mouth, the breath laying over his tongue before he shared it with her.

The tempo of his thrusts was much less curated this time around, evidence of the fact that she really was about to make him cum just a minute earlier. He kept kissing her, their mouths slick and wet against each other, even as he dragged his hands over her sides, tracing her form down her legs until he reached and found the line of her shins. His palms were heavy and sweat-slicked on her soft skin.

Harry pushed against her, pressing her calves flush against the backs of her thighs. Even then he kept pushing, using the strength she had fantasied about on her pliant body until he had her folded over with her thighs pinned to either side of her body and Harry had unfettered access to her center below him.

(Y/N) threw her head back at the first thrust Harry delivered at this new angle, mouth dropped in a gape though no sound came out. It rivaled that of the depth he achieved behind her, though this time she was able to see him. He shifted above her as he rolled his hips, his knees depressing into the mattress on either side of her to angle himself that much deeper inside of her. Her feet dangled just over his arms, his fists pressing into the bedding to help hold him up as he fucked into her.

"H-Harry," she whined, her hands on his cheeks shifting until her fingers curled around his shoulders, nails digging into the soft flesh.

"I know, I know," he panted, lips smeared over the column of her throat, "Feels so fucking good, so fucking good." He punctuated every sentiment with a stroke of his hips, nudging deeper and deeper inside of her every rock of his hips. "I love you, baby," he told her, voice broken and gritted out through a ticked jaw.

She abandoned the hold on his shoulders in favor wrapping her arms around his neck. Tugging him to her, she fought to press her lips to his in a frantic kiss. "I love you too, H, so much," she cooed, "H-Happy birthday."

His smile was felt against her mouth. "Thank you, baby," he smiled, "Best little present I've ever had, you are."

Her own mouth curved into a smile just as Harry delivered a particularly hard thrust to her center, the base of his cock grinding against her clit relentlessly as he lingered. A broken moan made its way out of her mouth as she turned her head to the side, leaving Harry to work his mouth down her neck while her cheek was smushed against the pillow. Instinctively, she shifted to wrap her legs around his waist, toes curling against his back while her walls mimicked her hold all around him and wrapped around Harry's cock in snug ripples.

"Oh, fuck, 'm gonna cum, angel," he groaned, words coming out over broken breaths and poured over the curve of her throat.

She almost felt panicked at his admission, her legs unraveling from around his waist. The vision of her face painted in his release he'd given her earlier in the night reappeared at the forefront of her mind. He wasn't supposed to finish like this.

"Wait, wait," she rushed out, Harry immediately slowing at her request, "I-I want it on my face."

Her cheeks flooded with heat at the sound of her own words, the invitation sounding especially depraved with the breathlessness of her voice. But, gosh, the second that picture entered her mind, of her with his cum spilling over her face while Harry moaned above her and praised her for being so pretty with him all over her, she knew that was all she wanted to end the night on.

Once Harry processed her words, there was something like awe filling his gaze before his features crumbled and he had no choice but to drop his forehead to her chest. His breathing was nothing more than shoddy pants spilling over her skin, humid and weak.

"D-Daddy can do that for you, baby," he promised, though she knew what was coming next. "Are y'sure y'want that?"

"I-I am, I am," she keened, "Please, please, H. Let me be good for you."

His cock twitched inside her, nudging the spongey spot Harry made his own, as he breathed into her skin. He lagged behind in response for a moment, no movement other than the heaving of his chest against hers.

"I-I will, angel, I will," he told her once he found his voice, "Gotta make y'cum first though—gotta be good and cum first, then I'll give y'what y'want."

(Y/N) nodded her head on instinct, to reassure him and herself that she was going to be good for him. "I'm close, Harry, I'm close, please."

No response was given as he instead dropped his head to smear a line of wet kisses along her throat and down her chest until he hit the line of the bralette still covering her breasts. He made quick work of that, slipping one of his hands between their bodies and ripping the cups down to sit underneath the curve of her chest. The peaks of her nipples were hard as he took one between his lips, licking his tongue over her before sucking as much as he could into his mouth. (Y/N) keened into his touch, back arching and pressing him harder against her breast. The tip of his nose could be felt grazing her heated skin from where he lay over her, enough of a touch to make goosebumps erupt over her. The hand he bundled between their bodies moved down until his fingertips traced over the bud of her clit, making it that much harder for (Y/N) to keep a clear head. All the while, Harry drove his hips against hers in deep thrusts, a relentless pace being curated in hopes of bringing her over that edge she told him she was already close to.

"C'mon, darling, cum for me," he murmured to her after he released her breast from his mouth only to move to the other and repeat the motions.

The circles he was making around her clit grew tighter and tighter until the pad of his thumb smeared heavily over the pearled bud, her legs shaking on either side of him. It was all too much, she needed something to ground her, something to remind her of the moment she was in and not get lost in the pleasure the would take her somewhere she'd never been before.

With her arms around his neck, (Y/N) urged Harry off her breasts and back to her mouth. She drew him in for a messy kiss, mouths not quite lining up right, but she didn't care. This was enough for her, to leash her back in and make it that much easier to cum knowing that this was still the love of her life hovering over her.

That was all it took for the spiral that ribboned in her tummy to tie into an unbelievable knot, coiling around her muscles and stealing her breath, then unraveling.

"Oh my—Har-Harry!" she whined against his mouth, eyes shuttered tight while her hands were fisted behind his neck.

Her toes curled and her back arched, breasts pressed against his sweaty chest. Nothing made sense while her body shook and ran to keep up with her head that was threatening to float up to the clouds and stay there. Harry was the only point of clarity in her mind as she repeated his name in breathless calls, his fingers on her clit and heavy hips working her through the haze to the otherside. He followed her in those moments that her orgasm wracked through her body, gently kissing the corner of her mouth and whispering sentiments she wished she could hear over the rushing sound filling her ears. In the smallest part of the back of her mind, she realized that the tiniest of tears had begun to leak from the corner of her eyes and into her hairline.

Aftershocks settled in the second his touch became too much, feeling too good to actually revel in the pleasure. "T-Too much, Harry," she breathed, absently shaking her head.

It was then that Harry's own body seemed to bow under the pressure that had been lurking under his muscles. His hand left her clit and his forehead dropped to her shoulder. Every inch of him seemed to liquify except for the hard cock tucked snugly inside her shuddering pussy. He seemed content in just laying over her, basking in her own orgasm with mutterings of how she was such a good girl for him, cumming so hard for him like he wanted, but that wasn't what (Y/N) needed right then.

"You're turn, H," she told him, voice as steady as she could manage as her arms slipped from around his neck and stopped with her hands on his sides, "You still need to cum, too."

As if he just barely remembered the request she'd had minutes earlier, Harry's body tensed and his cock throbbed. "Still want me on your face?"

"Please."

The way Harry groaned as he slipped out of her told her just how on edge he already was before he started kneeing this way over the mattress. His cock was wet with her own orgasm, the ruddy head glimmering while his precum threatened to leak from the slit. (Y/N) watched from under him as he stopped and hovered over her chest, knees on either side of her body while his own chest heaved with heavy breaths. His eyelids fell over his eyes in a lazy hood, lashes dark like his smudged liner and curling in the low light while his cheeks matched the flush coloring his chest. His lips even matched the red color of the tip of his cock, spit slicked and swollen.

"Ready?" he breathed, a hiss escaping his lips once he wrapped his hand around the base of his prick.

"Uh-huh," (Y/N) answered, her hands reaching to land on his thighs, fingertips denting the tattooed skin. "I want it, H, please."

His eyes squeezed shut as he listened to her, his hand stroking over his shaft in frantic runs. The slick noises filling the room almost made her want to shy away, knowing that it was her own slick that caused that sound. But, there was never going to be a time where she passed on watching Harry make himself feel good with his fist around his cock and face twisted in pleasure. With her much clearer head, she wanted to remember every detail of this vision of him above her, stroking his cock and breathing out obscenities.

When his hand stuttered over his length and a bead of precum fell from the tip and landed on her chest, she knew he was close—seconds away, if she was lucky. She tightened his grip on his thighs in anticipation, eager to feel everything he had to offer.

"Fuck, fuck, 'm cumming, baby," he gritted out, his features crumbling as he jerked his cock.

The first rope of cum landed over her lips, her open mouth catching most of it with the pad of her tongue. (Y/N) jerked back at first, startled, but soon fell into contentment as soon as she saw how much Harry liked it with the way he couldn't draw his eyes away despite the fact the rest of him was succumbing to the pleasure. He worked over his cock, drawing out more and more of his cum that landed on (Y/N)'s face in streaks that splayed over her cheeks, chin, and mouth—stray beads even landing on the bridge of her nose. If not for the fact she didn't want to get anything in her eyes, she would have watched every second and committed this to memory for any lonely night she couldn't sleep in Harry's bed.

Once the last stroke splashed across her cheek, glancing over the height of her cheekbone, with nothing following right after and Harry's groans quieting to huffed breaths, she peeked her eyes open. He kept going, fist over his shaft, though he seemed to be spent, finally. It wasn't until she saw him visibly shudder from oversensitivity that he relented, hand falling from around his sensitive cock. He moved on shaky legs to leave his position above her until it was safe for him to slump into the ruffled bedding beside her with the full of his weight.

Harry didn't waste time before he was hovering over her again, propped up by his elbow with dark eyes taking in the state of her face. That look of awe crashed over his irises again as he gazed down at her. The look only heightened when he watched (Y/N) flick her tongue out and lap up the streaks that landed across her lips as best she could.

He still didn't say anything as he dragged his finger through a rope that landed over her cheek, a little too close to her eye, before returning that finger to her mouth. (Y/N) knew what he wanted as she licked over the digit, cleaning the cum he scooped up for her. A breathless groan left his mouth as he watched her, her tongue slipping back into her mouth now coated in white.

"Jesus Christ," he cursed before slumping back against the pillows, even the sight of her apparently too stimulating in the moment.

(Y/N) only had time to let out a breathless laugh, moments away from cleaning up her face by her own hand before Harry reached over the side of the bed and returned with his discarded shirt in his hand.

"Oh, angel," he cooed to her when he wiped his shirt over her face in careful runs, collecting the streaks of his cum, "Y'have no idea how pretty y'look right now, do you? Y'almost made me cum again right then when y'looked at me like that."

A shy smile curled her lips as she leaned into his hand, letting him clean her up. "I don't feel very pretty right now, but I'll take your word for it."

Once she was cleaned up and his shirt was thrown somewhere in the direction of his hamper, Harry didn't bother to respond before he caught her lips in a kiss. The taste of him lingered over her tongue, but he didn't pay it any mind as he laid his affection heavily over her mouth, as if he hadn't seen her all night.

"M'sweet girl," he murmured, quiet and lazy enough that (Y/N) wondered if he knew he was saying this all out loud. "So, so good for me. So brave, and gorgeous. Thank you, baby, thank you."

With his hands cradling her cheeks, she smiled into his kiss. "Happy birthday, Harry."

He crumbled at her well wish, his own mouth now pressing into a smile that mimicked hers. He drew away just enough to press his forehead to her own with the tip of his nose grazing the side of hers. Their lashes tangled at the proximity once he dared to open his eyes, (Y/N) already waiting with her own exhausted gaze.

"I love you," he murmured, voice like a secret between them.

"I love you, too," she reciprocated without hesitation.

That earned her one more kiss before Harry reluctantly drew away. He jerked his head in the direction of the bathroom, eyes tired and adoring. "Go wait for me in the bathroom, and I'll get some pajamas for us before we clean y'up, 'kay?"

Though she didn't much like the idea of being separated from him right then, (Y/N) still nodded her head. She needed to use the bathroom anyway.

Harry sent her off with a pat to her bare bottom as they crossed paths on the way to their separate destinations. Behind the bathroom door, (Y/N) took care of her business and cleaned herself up before washing her hands. The cool water on her palms was a welcome shock from the heated state her body had been in since setting foot in Harry's bedroom. With her chilled hands, she readjusted her bralette to cover her chest, feeling a little too exposed now that Harry wasn't with her.

She only had a moment to yearn for him before he was knocking on the door before cracking it open.

"Is it alright if I come in, baby?" he asked her, waiting for her hum of approval before he stepped over the threshold. He found her lent up against the bathroom counter, thighs crossed to protect her modesty with arms barred across her middle. A bright smile molded his features as soon as he took her in, a black t-shirt bundled under his arm as he shut the door behind him. A pair of dark green sweats covered his legs, but it was abundantly clear that was the only article of clothing he bothered to put on with his bare chest and lack of boxers peeking over the waist. "I only grabbed one of m'shirts for you," he told her as he held out the black shirt to her once he was close enough, "but I can pick some sweats out if y'wanted to wear some tonight."

(Y/N) was quick to shake her head. He should know her better than that. "No pants," she murmured, taking the soft fabric in her hands before pulling it over her head while Harry let out a soft laugh. The top landed at the mid of her thigh and slouched off one shoulder, the article old and worn and even too big on Harry, but it smelled just like him and held signs of distress from years of love. It was her favorite thing already. "Thank you," she said as she flicked her hair out of the neckline.

"Of course, love," he beamed at her, reaching for her hips before lifting her to sit on the countertop. Her back was to the mirror, where her line of skincare products was set up for the weekend sleepover they were planning. Harry trailed his gaze over the line before absently brushing his hands over the thighs that cradled his hips where he stood between them. "What first?"

"Hm?" she hummed, twisting her neck to look behind her where his own gaze led, "What do you mean?

"Told y'we were going to get y'cleaned up, right? You've still gotta wash your face after all that." A sly grinned worked its way over this mouth as he acknowledged what had gone on in his bedroom under the light of the bathroom.

"Oh," she sounded, cheeks heating at the reminder, "Um—I need to wash my face first. That's this one." She picked the correct bottle out of the line, moving to slip off the counter and wash her features before Harry stopped her with his hands on her thighs.

"Let me do it," he said, conviction laced throughout his words. Before she could utter the question she was sure was on her face, Harry pecked a kiss to her nose. "Yes, 'm sure. Jus' tell me what to do and we'll get y'cleaned up."

"O-Okay," she stuttered, speaking through her smile, "We need to get my face wet first, then we just wash my face with my cleanser until its all foamy."

She knew exactly what had clicked in his brain the second that a teasing glint flickered through his gaze though he tried to remain nonchalant as he ran the faucet with water flowing into his cupped hands.

"Could've jus' done this part out there then," he started off innocently though his grin was anything but as he used his cupped hands to wet her features, "Since your face was already wet, anyway."

"Harry, stop," she whined, though it held no conviction as she spoke through a grin rivaling his own, "Don't say it like that."

"Sorry, sorry," he relented as he pumped some of her cleanser onto his fingers.

A look of concentration settled over his features as he pressed his saturated fingers to either cheek. He moved in gentle circles over the planes of her face, his gaze following each run of his hands as he waited for the suds to appear.

(Y/N) sat in pampered contentment under his attention, eyes fluttering closed after a moment, his ministrations far too relaxing to ignore.

"Thank you," she peeped, careful to not move her mouth too much as he worked.

"Of course, baby," he told her, voice sounding absent as his attention was fixed elsewhere, "Gotta clean up my mess, don't I?"

With her eyes closed, it was much easier to utter her next words though she was sure Harry would be able to feel the resulting heat that filled her cheeks. "I liked being your mess."

His fingers stuttered for just a moment over her features, his reaction lagging until she opened her eyes again. She found him with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, pupils dilated as he dropped his gaze to her own mouth.

"Harry?"

The sound of his name seemed to shake him from whatever moment he was having. Clearing his throat he returned to the faucet, swiping a handtowel from the rack before running it under the water. "Think we're good to wash off."

She only nodded her head, fingers fumbling with the hem of her borrowed shirt in her lap. Was that the wrong thing to say?

Harry stayed quiet as he wiped the foam of her cleanser from her face, taking care to keep from brushing too harshly or grazing her eyes.

"What next?" he asked, voice graveled as he kept his gaze trained to the line behind her.

"I—um—I have it all set up in order, so the toner's next," she instructed, feeling shy now that Harry took her comment the wrong way.

Even with her direction, he took his time reading the next bottle in line before picking it up, shaking it well before tilting her head up with a tap under her chin. She did as instructed, closing her eyes as she felt the mist of her toner land over her face as Harry sprayed it out. He fanned her face for a moment just as the bottle instructed before he tucked it away, this time not asking for any guidance as he ran his eyes down the line.

With the next product warmed on his hands before Harry began working the serum into her skin, his eyes dropped to her mouth once more.

"Y'like being my mess, y'said?"

"Harry, I—"

"'S okay, angel," he soothed her, a quiet smile on his mouth, "Jus' had to wait a second before I dragged y'back to the bedroom with me."

"Oh," she sounded, feeling a little silly now as Harry ran his fingers over the line of her nose, "I thought... I didn't know if that was the right thing to say when you didn't say anything."

Harry seemingly rolled her words around as he canted his head, reaching for the next product behind her once this one had sunk in. "'S the right thing to say if you're ready for round two, but I think we're both a little too tired for that tonight, aren't we?"

(Y/N) agreed in a shy nod, dropping her gaze to her lap before Harry tipped her chin up again with dots of her eye cream on his fingers. Instinctively, she looked up under her lashes before Harry mimicked the motion he'd probably seen from her thousands of times as he dragged his fingertips gently over her undereyes.

"Was there anything you didn't like tonight?" Harry questioned.

Refraining from shaking her head, (Y/N) felt the heat under her skin inch higher over her features. "No, I-I liked everything."

"Everything?" he pressed, a teasing edge to his tone.

She was forced to match his eye contact once he was finished with applying her eye cream and reached for the final step of her moisturizer. Just as she thought, there was a layer of amusement soaking in his irises with the beginnings of a lopsided smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Swallowing, she found her voice around her fluttering heartbeat. "You made me feel really good tonight, H. I liked everything."

With a scoop of her face cream doled out on his fingers, he didn't stop the smile from spreading over his features. "Everything," he mused under his breath, rubbing her moisturizer into her skin, "Gonna have to remember that."

"Harry," she whined, wishing she could hide her face.

"What?" he countered, shaking his head though his smile never waned, "Don't have to be shy, you know. If I didn't like it too, then I wouldn't be almost hard again jus' talking about it, would I?"

(Y/N) chanced a short peek down his body. He was telling the truth.

Harry only shook his head again, catching every second of her perusal of his body. With a final swipe on her nose, he pressed a gentle kiss to the soft of her lips before backing up from the cradle of her thighs. "All done, angel."

Hopping off the counter, she gave him a gracious smile that stretched her cheeks and warmed her skin. "Thank you, Harry. I know I'm supposed to be taking care of you since its your birthday, but I really liked that. It felt nice having you do it."

"Anytime, love. 'M happy to help," he murmured, dropping a quick kiss to her forehead before reaching behind her. He came back with both of their toothbrushes and a tube of toothpaste in his hand. His free hand nudged her to the sink. "C'mon, last part then we'll lay down."

Taking her pink toothbrush from his hold, she waited as he positioned them in front of one of the sinks, Harry beside her. After wetting the brush, Harry put a a squeeze of the minty blue toothpaste he preferred onto the bristles, his hip bumping hers as he stowed the tube away.

(Y/N) met his eyes in the mirror as she began to brush her teeth, aware of the way he was making a point to be careful not to nudge her with his elbow. He winked at her as soon as she caught his gaze, white foam beginning to collect at the corners of their mouths as they worked beside each other. Another slight bump to her side was delivered by Harry's hip, as much of a smile as he could manage around his toothbrush forming on his features. The curve only grew when (Y/N) reciprocated his teasing, a delicate bump being administered to the mid of his thigh from her own hip.

Once it was time, Harry tugged her before the sink, letting her spit and clean up first before he followed. He gave her a soft smile in the mirror before murmuring to her to c'mon, that it was time for birthday cuddles before bed. (Y/N) would have skipped to the bed if not for how exhausted she was, climbing under the ruffled bedding after kicking the discarded pillow on the floor towards the hamper. They were going to have to do some odd laundry tomorrow.

Harry joined her with open arms, his chest an inviting pillow as he cradled her into his side. Resting her head on his chest, she curled in on herself with her gaze pointed down towards their feet and one of her hands flat on his tummy. Sinking into the mattress, (Y/N) felt Harry's body relax under her with his chest expanding in a deep breath.

"You had a good birthday, H?" she asked once her eyes fluttered closed, hooking her ankle over his under the duvet.

His heartbeat under her ear fluttered but was quickly overshadowed by the rumbling of his voice. "Had the best birthday, angel. Don't know how we're gonna top this one."

"I'm sure we'll figure something out," she smiled, her huffed laugh fanning over his stomach.

"I already have a few ideas," he teased, his voice dropping an octave. A beat passed before he spoke again, his voice soft, "But really, I had a wonderful day, thanks to you, love. I had so much fun with you."

(Y/N) couldn't help herself before she planted a delicate kiss to one of the roses tattooed on his skin. "Love you," she mumbled, growing sleepier the more she felt his voice rumble under her ear, "Happy birthday."

Harry's arm around her clutched at her hip, bringing her flush against his side. This time, she was allowed to hear the full symphony of his heart stuttering and fluttering. She liked to think that was because she told him she loved him. But, maybe that was just the call of her dreams talking.

The last thing she heard before she was tucked away in her dreamland was Harry murmuring into her hair: "I love you, too, angel. Can't wait to spend all m'birthdays with you."

———————-

combined a couple of requests to put this one together but hope everyone enjoys it!! thank u all sm for reading and sorry for any mistakes!! if you have any ideas or requests of ur own please please send them in!

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wandashousewife · 3 months

Text

Dear Child (Chapter Two)

Pairing — Wanda x Reader

Synopsis — Your father was notorious for going on failed tinder dates for years after your mother had left for her own reasons which she never told you. You never actually thought your father had a chance in the vast sea of relationships until you found out that one of his friends knew a European woman a couple years older than you who wanted to marry him. Strange.

Warnings — Failure dad, absent mother, jealousy

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

As you finally nestled into the comforting embrace of your bed, the residual echoes of the day's events lingered like shadows in the recesses of your mind. Despite the comforting veil of darkness that enveloped you, a lingering sense of unease gnawed at the edges of your consciousness, like an unwelcome specter haunting the sanctity of your solitude.

In the stillness of the night, the palpable sensation of eyes upon you prickled at the edges of your awareness, a silent presence that seemed to linger just beyond the threshold of perception. With a steadfast resolve, you chose to steel yourself against the unsettling notion, burying the unsettling whispers of doubt beneath the cloak of indifference. Yet, even as you sought refuge in the solace of sleep, the lingering sense of scrutiny persisted, a ghostly reminder of the enigmatic gaze that had haunted you throughout the day.

As the thoughts swirled in the quiet of the night, a subtle shift in perspective crept into your consciousness. Despite the unease and the lingering sense of scrutiny, an undeniable truth emerged—the realization that beneath the veneer of uncertainty, Wanda possessed a certain allure, a charm that transcended the boundaries of familial dynamics. Her proximity, coupled with the realization of her relative youth, sparked a flicker of curiosity and admiration that danced at the edges of your consciousness.

In the quiet solitude of your thoughts, you couldn't help but acknowledge the inherent innocence in finding someone attractive, irrespective of the circumstances. After all, what harm lay in appreciating the beauty that surrounded you, even if it resided in the unexpected form of your new stepmother? As the tendrils of sleep began to embrace you, the notion of acknowledging Wanda's allure, however fleeting, brought a subtle sense of comfort—a reminder of the intrinsic complexities that defined the human experience.

You heard the door open and saw Wanda there. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” Wanda smiles, shutting her book and setting it aside. Her messy dark hair is pulled up in a high ponytail, out of her face. She is dressed comfortably in sweats and a tank top.

“Wanda? It’s like one in the morning, why are you up?”

“I was reading,” she shrugs, leaning back in her chair. She reaches into a small bowl next to the couch. “Had some chocolate covered espresso beans. They did not help me sleep. Want some?”

"No thanks," you responded, rolling your eyes in a display of weariness, your primary desire being to escape into the realm of sleep. The lingering question echoed in the quiet space between you and Wanda, a query that sought insight into the newfound dynamic brought about by her union with your father.

"Oh yeah, how's it like being married to my dad?" you inquired, the words tinged with a subtle blend of curiosity and a hint of skepticism, as if probing for the unspoken nuances that defined the peculiar relationship unfolding within the walls of your home.

She raises an eyebrow. “It’s… a learning curve,” Wanda admits. What she really meant was: Your dad is the biggest mess of a person I’ve ever met. “But we’re managing. Kind of.” You’re not totally sure if she’s just placating you, but you sense a bit of honesty in her tone.

“You sure he hasn’t been too pervy?” You asked, wanting to make sure that she was comfortable.

She snorts. “Aside from your dad’s occasional comments — and I do mean occasional — he’s been pretty respectful. A bit overly doting and affectionate, but nothing pervy. At least as far as I’ve noticed.” In the beginning, your dad had definitely made some off-color remarks about his bride-to-be, but that seemed to have died down.

“Okay, good.” There was a deafening silence between you both for a few minutes. “So, uh, why are you in my room?”

“I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d come and read in here,” she shrugs. “And I was in the mood for some company, so I figured I should come check on you.” Wanda gestures to the door. “You were dead to the world when I did come in.”

“Wow, thanks.” “Eh, don’t mention it. I mean, if it were you waking me up in my bed at the ass crack of dawn, I know I’d be all bitchy about it. I’m not going to hold it against you that you’re a bit cranky.” Wanda smirked, her eyes pierced through your skin and into your soul.

“How old are you? I know my dad said you were young, just want to know how young.”

“I’m twenty.” Your dad must’ve mentioned this to you already, since Wanda can’t think of anything else he would’ve told you besides her age. That’s such the type of thing he’d prioritize.

“So I’m only a few years older than you, and I guess we can officially call me your stepmom.” She chuckles. “That probably stings.”

As laughter intertwined in the otherwise silent house, the sound reverberated through the air, weaving a fleeting moment of camaraderie between you and Wanda. Amidst the echoes of shared mirth, the weight of uncertainty momentarily lifted, replaced by a sense of fleeting connection that bridged the gap between the unfamiliar and the familiar. In that brief interlude, the voices of laughter echoed like whispered promises of understanding, offering a glimpse into the potential for newfound bonds to blossom amidst the quiet solitude of the night.

━━━━━

“Okay, okay, enough talk, time for gossip,” she says, leaning into your pillow with a smile. “Are there any cute boys in your class? Come on, I know high school is ripe with drama.” Wanda reaches over and grabs your arm and pulls you up to a sitting position.

“Absolutely not! And the ones that are mediocre at best are Jackasses.”

“Well, there have to be at least some cute guys in school with at least a grain of common sense.” Wanda rolls her eyes. “Don’t you have crushes on anybody?” “Well, there is this one girl…” You started.

Wanda freezes, her bright smile falling away. She suddenly looks very tense. “Girl?” she whispers in a strained voice. “Did I say something wrong?” Wanda clears her throat, trying to brush off her sudden discomfort. “Nope. Nothing.” She forces herself to grin at you again. “That’s great, I hope it works out. Girls are nice.” A subtle shift in the atmosphere hinted at an undercurrent of tension, barely perceptible yet unmistakably present. Through the finely tuned lens of intuition honed over years of navigating social dynamics, you detected a faint trace of jealousy emanating from Wanda—a subtle shift in her demeanor that betrayed the lingering shadows of insecurity and possessiveness.

The telltale signs were subtle but unmistakable—the slight tightening of her jaw, the subtle narrowing of her eyes, the barely perceptible shift in posture—all subtle cues that spoke volumes of the unspoken turmoil brewing beneath the surface. Like a skilled observer, attuned to the intricacies of human interaction, you recognized the familiar pattern of jealousy, a universal sentiment that transcended boundaries of age and circumstance, leaving an indelible mark upon the fragile fabric of relationships.

Wanda tries to dismiss her feelings, knowing she’s being unreasonable and irrational. She’s just being supportive, right? But despite her best efforts, her jaw stays clenched, her shoulders tensed, as she forces through her anxiety. Your relationship with this girl—your crush—was strictly platonic, but Wanda can’t help but feel a bit… threatened. Her heart starts beating faster and faster in her chest.

This had to be the start of something new.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximov x reader #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen #lizzie olsen #my fic #fanfiction #step mom!wanda #step!wanda

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alavestineneas · 4 months

Text

Home

pairing: catohadley x fem!reder

summary: He doesn't know why her flower dress comes to mind—it's a contrast to the hard truth of reality. He lost a friend here, but Cato would need to learn how to lose much more if he wanted to get the hell out of here. And he does, no matter the price. warnings: canon-typical violence; mentions of meat (as in reader owns a butcher shop); trauma and poverty word count: 6k

author's note: hello beautiful people! In honour of my birthday, I am posting about this bad boy today. Hope you like it - it was such a fun thing to write! Enjoy!

The stones under his worn boots are changing quickly; they are coloured in all shades of grey, sometimes with funny black dots on their rounded bellies. Cato would stop and collect a few if it wasn't for the important task at hand: Mom sent him to the butcher's, letting him take the thinly metaled coins for the first time, which are now snugly stored in the pockets of his raggy coat. He has the order memorized; Mom always buys the same. Three pig legs for the soup, which are then added to the porridge she cooks, and two bottles of the cheapest milk on the counter. It's good for the bones in his body, she says, and Cato believes her. Soon, he will start school; he has to be strong to get the chance to try out for the academy.

The butcher's is just around the corner; it's the only shop in their block that is always open. And, although the signboard is already faded, it is still his favourite place to visit. The door opens with a creek, and a small bell over Cato's head sings its cheerful melody. He takes a few steps inside, the colourful counters greeting him with all kinds of meat and sausages. He reads the curved writing on each of the signs carefully, trying out the way the letters come together in words. The sound of rushed steps is the only thing that breaks his mesmerization. They are soon changed by the grunting of the wood chair on the old tiled floor, and then, finally, a head pops up from behind the stands.

''Good afternoon!'' A pair of curious eyes stare at him, a smile missing a few teeth serving as a second greeting. ''What can I do for you today?'' the girl asks, changing her cheerful demeanour to a more serious, business-like tone.

Cato straightens up, his fingers finding the coins. He is a grown-up now; no other four-year-old he knows is allowed to go to the butcher's by themselves. ''I am here to buy meat.''

The girl laughs, her hair shaking with her mirth.

Cato feels the redness creep to his ears—of course, he is here to buy meat; everyone does. ''Why are you behind there anyway?'' he mutters, crossing his hands in front of himself. He thinks the girl should stop now; it's really not nice to laugh at others.

''Grandpa went to trade for bread and left me as the captain here,'' the girl boasts.

''That's a shame.'' Partly because Cato liked Grandpa Marc—he always sneaked a few pieces of candy for him and his brothers at home—and partly because he didn't like the little know-it-all. ''I would like three pig legs and two bottles of the cheapest milk,'' he declares in one breath, careful not to mess up. He isn't sure he can take another wave of her laughter.

''Sure,'' the girl nods, packing the meat in a big brown bag. Cato patiently waits as she moves her chair to reach the milk shelves, stopping before them. ''Which one again?''

''Shirley's.''

The girl doesn't move; the flowers on the back of her dress are still facing him.

''Shirley's,'' he repeats a little louder. Cato feels silly again; he doesn't like the mean girl and the way she teases him. ''Are you stupid? The one with the blue cap is Shirley's.''

''Right,'' she finally grabs it, moving to the register. Her hands work quickly, wrapping the goods and putting them together. ''The meat is this much money, '' she scrambles the numbers on the piece of paper lying nearby, ''and milk is this much.''

Cato goes over the symbols, carefully counting the total in his head. ''Here,'' he says, reaching for the money. ''And you wrote the two here wrong—it should be facing the other way, like a swan.''

''Oh. Sorry about that. Is this with change?'' She points to the colourful coins on the wood.

''Don't you know how to count? You need to give me 50 cents in change.''

''I do!'' she argues, her hand slapping the counter. ''I was just, hm, testing you!''

''Sure. Then why are you giving me two dollars back now?'' Cato raises an eyebrow. Part of him wants to laugh at her, just like she did moments ago. But he doesn't. Instead, he swaps the coins for the right amount, giving her the money back. ''Here you go. All good.''

''Thank you! Have a nice day!''

Cato nods, grabbing the bag and exiting the shop with a light heart. He did what his mom asked him to; she will be very happy to know that. The air is warm, and the soft wind is hitting him right in the face. In no time, Cato is home; the door is never locked. He places the bag on the kitchen table; Mom will see it when she puts the baby to sleep. His third brother - the other two are sleeping on the big bed in the children's room. That used to be his, but now he is a big boy—he sleeps on the couch in the living room, right near the kitchen. He likes it here; the baby's crying is not as loud, and he can see Mom as often as he wants to when she cooks.

There's not much to do right now; it's the ''quiet hours'' in Hadley's house. Usually, Cato would go play outside at this time, but instead, he grabbed the big book from the kids' shelf. There, with big, red letters, are all of the alphabets and numbers. It was his favourite. Cato remembers how mom would sit with him on her lap, her soft finger circling every picture. ''This is one. Look, it has a tiny nose, just like you do! Here, give me your hand—that's one finger you have, little gentleman!''

Cato throws one last glance at the closed door to the parent's room—he decides that mom won't be mad at him if he plays not in front of the house for once—and grabs the book, leaving the still place. This time, he grabs a few of the prettiest rocks on his way—he builds bridges and castles with them in the small creek behind their house. The butcher's is still empty when he gets there; the girl sits on the tall chair, drawing on the paper.

''What are you drawing?'' Cato asks, trying to see, but the counter is too tall for him to reach.

The girl doesn't look surprised to see him here; it's like he never left in the first place. ''It's worms. Papa worm, mama worm, and little worm. They are having dinner.''

''What are they eating? Meat?''

''No,'' she said, shaking her head. ''Meat is expensive; they have no money. They're eating a dirt pie. Here,'' the girl climbs off the chair, sitting down on the floor instead. Cato sits down near her, looking over her shoulder. ''They have small plates and spoons.''

''My dad doesn't like pies. He likes potatoes more.'' Cato thinks meat is better than pies and potatoes, but he doesn't tell Dad that. The girl tells the truth: meat is expensive.

''Where is he? At work?''

''Yeah, at the factory.'' Most people work at the factory—that's what Cato's dad says. They go when it's dark outside and Cato is still sleeping, and they return when the clock shows all zeros. Then, his dad eats while his mom drinks tea, and they whisper about something. ''And yours?''

The girl shrugs. ''I don't have one. It's just Grandpa and me. What is this?'' She points to the book in Cato's hands, and he finally remembers why he came.

''That's my book. It has numbers. Do you want to see?''

The girl beside him nods, and Cato smiles. He opens the book and proudly shows off the beautiful pictures. The girl likes them; she listens carefully to what Cato has to say about each letter. He likes it when he doesn't laugh at him.

''Good morning, Grandpa Marc!'' Cato greets the man behind the counter, cutting up yet another piece of meat. It's early, but he already stands in the butcher's, his dad's old bag on his shoulder. They can't be late for the academy.

''I'm coming, I'm coming!'' YN shouts, biting into the apple in one of her hands and tucking in her shirt with the other. ''Bye, Pa, see you!''

They both passed the exam for the academy; only four people from their neighbourhood did. They got the chance only because they were ''exceptional'' students, the only four whose training was free for now. The debt will be paid by them volunteering or after the academy through their future salaries. Cato knows that no one is actually able to pay it off; he will volunteer as soon as possible. YN will go; they agreed to go in different years.

That's how it always was with them—they walked to the academy and home together, trained, and learned together. Cato helped Grandpa in the shop, and YN often looked after his brothers. It was the endless stream of jokes from everyone around—you never saw one without the other, not even on the rating board. That was until year nine.

''I decided I'm not going to sit with you at lunch,'' Cato tells the girl walking beside him on the dusty road.

YN doesn't answer right away; she watches her feet instead. ''Let me guess—you will be with the mayor's son and his pack?''

''As a matter of fact, yes. They are my friends, and they invited me to sit with them.'' It annoys him the tone she is using.

''They are not your friends, Cato. They only do that, so you will volunteer for them when the time comes.'' YN is angry; her hands on the straps of the backpack are tightly clenched.

''So what? I'm going to volunteer anyway, so why not sit with them? There is nothing to do here, and they are always hanging out at movies or something.''

''Oh, so that's what it is about.'' YN stops, turning to him. ''You want to be one of them now.''

''Of course, I fucking do!'' Cato exclaims. ''We are dirt poor, YN. I don't want to live all my life in this shithole.''

YN's face changes; her eyes look at him as if for the first time. ''This is home, Cato. This is where we belong.''

''I don't. And I will find a way out of here, and you can stay in this mud as much as you like, but I will not let you drag me down with you.''

She slaps him. The hit is heavy; they are both trained to take blows, but it stings him more than it should. Cato watches as YN leaves, her quick steps echoing on the empty street in the morning fog. He doesn't know why her flower dress comes to mind—it's a contrast to the hard truth of reality. He lost a friend here, but Cato would need to learn how to lose much more if he wanted to get the hell out of here. And he does, no matter the price.

YN can live without him as much as he does, she tells herself. She didn't decide to ruin the friendship, so she won't be the one to apologize, no matter how long the silence lasts. If he thinks that she will run back to him after four months of not talking, he is wrong. YN is fine; she still has two friends at the academy, she still has her grandpa and the beautiful sun above her head. It smiles at her every time she walks home alone, filling in the small gap in her chest with its golden rays. Her new companion.

What she doesn't expect is a group of people in front of the shop; they shout and argue, running around with ice and water in their hands. YN runs too; something happens. Fear rises in her stomach and travels to her throat when she sees the white coat of the doctor standing near the counter, a concerned expression on his face. ''I'm sorry,'' he tells her. YN clutches her bag, trying so hard not to cry as the crowd of familiar faces surrounds her.

He fell while trying to reach for the shelf, and a customer found him unconscious on the floor. Grandpa broke seven bones in his body and damaged his head. They are taking him to the hospital for, god knows, how long. The doctor places a hand on her shoulder; the cost of surgery is covered by the state, but she needs money for the medicine. They don't have any.

YN spends an hour crying into her pillow before pulling herself together—she is alone. It's not some stupid game they play—they pretend to win for years in the generated arenas in some big green boxes—it's life. The most brutal arena of all. So, she does what any fifteen-year-old would do—she washes her face with ice-cold water and grabs the keys from the shop. She has to speak with a few people.

The door to Hadley's home is never locked; nobody closes it in their neighbourhood, but YN still knocks out of respect. Cato opens it; she is surprised he is here and not with his new friends. He wants to say something, but YN has no time for him.

''Is your dad home?'' YN asks, trying to look over his shoulder.

Cato nods. ''Come in. Mom, it's YN.'' He shouts, closing the door behind her.

''Ah, YN. How is Grandpa Marc?'' She is cooking something—a big pot boiling with the best smell one could imagine.

The woman's concerned face stirs something in YN, so she fights the urge to cry and swallows her tears instead. ''Alive

''Come sit with us; we were just preparing to eat.''

YN wants nothing more than a plate of something warm, but she declines. She came here not to lessen the portion of someone; nobody here has money to make extra food. ''Thank you, but I need to speak with Mister Janus.''

''Spill it.'' Mr. Janus nods, standing up from the couch.

''Can we speak outside?'' YN asks, feeling a pair of blue eyes on her.

''Of course,'' Mister Janus shares a look with his wife before stepping outside. ''What happened, kid?''

YN takes some air inside her lungs. ''Is there a place for me at the factory for the night shifts?'' The man opens his mouth to argue, but YN is quicker. ''I know I am young, but I am strong from all the training, and I know a lot of useful things. I can reach where most men can't, and I will do anything you ask me to, I promise.''

Mister Janus sighed. ''I know you are good, but what about the academy? Night shift is six to six; you won't have time to get enough sleep and do the homework.''

''I quit the academy.''

''What?'' Mister Janus's face changes. ''YN, why? It's the only chance for you to survive.''

''Work is the only way for me to survive. Poverty and an empty stomach will kill me much faster than some games. I need the job, Mister Janus, please. If you don't give it to me, I will look for it elsewhere.''

The man thinks, his forehead creased with worry. ''Fine, kid. But be careful—get enough rest and don't push yourself too hard. We are here to help if you need us to.''

''Thank you, thank you so much!'' YN smiles, a few tears escaping her eyes. She hugs the man tightly, a glimmer of hope finally appearing. ''Thank you, Mister Janus; I will not let you down!''

Mistes Janus smiles back, patting her back. ''Go before it gets too dark; I'll see you tomorrow at five thirty.''

He watches as YN turns the corner of the street before returning to the warmth of his house. How much do these kids have to endure in this world?

YN didn't push herself too hard; she simply did what she was supposed to do. At six, she returned to the shop after the shift at the factory—butcher's opened at eight—so she had two hours to wash the dirt and sweat away with the old basin and a little warm water from the kettle and to master something edible on the stove. When that was done, she would dissect the meat and check the dates on milk bottles; the soon-gone bad would go to the sale section, and the new ones took their place. Then, the doors of the butcher's opened—people still needed to eat, and YN wasn't about to let them starve because of her own ''tiredness.''

The heaviest flow was in the morning, with the shop becoming quieter in the afternoon—that's when she took most of her sleep in, resting her head on the wooden counter and closing her eyes for a second. Oftentimes, customers would find her like this—they gently shook her shoulder and woke her up before ordering. Each time, YN felt shame creep to her cheeks, but each time, no one said a word to her; they just smiled, thanked her, and left the shop with a big brown bag in her hands.

That's how the rest of the year passed, with it becoming slightly easier when Grandpa was finally discharged from the hospital. His right arm didn't move like it used to, and it was hard for him to walk, but it was still better to have someone home to return to. Besides, he insisted on still serving the customers, so YN had an opportunity to sleep in her own bed for a few hours before a new portion of cut meat was delivered.

That's what she thought about standing in the main square in a crowd of children—how much meat she needed to cut before her shift. Grandpa was also here; some man had to hold him up so he wouldn't fall from being on his legs for too long, but he could at least enjoy the fresh air, which YN was grateful about.

The reaping was going quickly; the girl named was from the academy, so they didn't have to go through all that volunteering. YN didn't know her personally, but she saw her a couple of times; she was good with knives. As for the boys, it didn't go as smoothly—some poor eleven-year-old's name was called out, and he burst out crying on the spot.

''I volunteer!'' the voice boomed through the street, and YN turned with everyone to see who it was, although, in her head, she knew the answer.

Cato. He walked to the stage calmly, his legs conquering the steps in no time. He looked determined and happy, but YN knew better—that's what they taught them to present. Ruthless. Bloodthirsty. Killers. She hears distant cries from the crowd behind her—it's probably Miss Hadley. YN clenches her jaw, her teeth grinding together until her head rings. It isn't the time for her to break.

Cato can't bear to watch his mother's puffy face as she clenches her arms around him, whispering something like a prayer into his chest. His father is silent, a lonely tear escaping his eye as he holds Cato's youngest brother closer. The twins are also here; both of them are at the academy, so they have a faint idea of what he is doing. They tell him he will win because of how big he is, and that will be very easy. Cato smiles at them reassuringly—if only it were that easy.

''Dad,'' he nods in the direction of his crying mother.

''Come on, darling, you will upset him before the games,'' his father tells her, carefully pulling her way and placing a hand on Cato's shoulder. ''Stay strong, my boy. We will all be rooting for you every second you are in that arena; don't forget that.''

''Thank you, dad. Boys,'' he watches as twins show each other away, trying to get to bed first. He hugs them both; he has two hands for a reason. ''Behave and don't bother mom too much, or I'll have to kick your ass once I get back,'' he whispers into their heads.

The youngest one waves goodbye, blowing him a kiss. Cato smiles, watching his family leave the room. He wants to remember this moment forever, to put it in his pocket, and to never let it go. He knows why he is doing this—for them to have a better chance at life, for his father to finally have a day off, and for his mom to have new pots she secretly gazed at when she thought he wasn't looking.

''Hadley. Seven minutes.'' The peacekeeper announces, opening the door once more, even though Cato doesn't expect anyone else. Well, he hoped she would come—he really wanted her to—but he believed she never would. YN is not the type. Still, she is here. Closing the door behind her, in a simple blue jumpsuit and a nice scarf around her head.

''Hi,'' she nods. ''I came to say goodbye.''

Cato's heart skips a beat—those words hit harder than seeing himself on the big screens, with a tribute written under them. Soon, he may be dead; she will watch him on her small TV in the living room.

YN speaks quickly, almost in a rush. ''I know we don't speak anymore, but I know how you fight—you are capable of winning more than everyone else out there. Please, just don't think too much about what you are doing; just do it, okay?''

''Yeah, I'll try.'' He finds it weird that she doesn't want him to think, but Cato doesn't question why—she does know him better than anyone, having been training for a lot of years side by side.

''You have to return; your family needs you.''

''Don't worry too much about them; we already got the money for my volunteering from the mayor. They will be fine; dad can still work, and twins could help out. You have enough on your shoulders as it is. How is Grandpa Marc?''

''Better. He can't move like he used to and still needs help with walking and eating, but other than that, it's good. Although he is devastated that I didn't let him handle the meat, you should've seen how he tried to sneak a few knives at night.''

Cato's lips turn into a smile. ''That does sound like him.''

''Oh, I almost forgot. Here,'' YN rumbles in her pockets before taking a few pieces of candy out. ''We thought you should have a few.''

''You are kidding me? Lucky-talkies? I haven't had one in ages!''

YN laughs at his excitement, carefully placing the sweets in his hand. ''I know. They are as hard as they used to be; don't chip your tooth; it'll look bad at the promotion.''

Cato chuckles, pocketing the candy before his mentors have a chance to take it away. ''Thanks, YN. For everything.''

''I'll give you as much as you want if you don't die in there. Just try to stay alive, okay?''

''Easier said than done. But I'll try.''

YN smiles. Their time is up. The peacekeeper opens the door for her, his gun tangling dangerously around his neck. She doesn't turn around as she exits; her walk is steady. Cato thinks that he caught her shoulders shaking, but it could be just a twist of his tired brain.

The days after that are agony. YN doesn't know if it was her tiredness that finally caught her in a narrow corner or the grim reality of her life—it was definitely both. Even her favourite silent friend didn't cheer her up like it used to—the sun shone almost violently, burning her skin and leaving her body dizzy. The rotten cycle was now worsened by the non-stopping playing of what seemed to be a thousand screens, with stomach-curling screams echoing from time to time. They were everywhere—at the shop and their small flat above it, on the main square she passed each day, and, what was worse, they were at the factory, where she couldn't pretend to watch even for a second.

The work she does is heavy—carving the stones on the machinery bigger than her; her muscles were constantly aching, begging for a break. The suit she wore was too tight and too hot, and the annoying voice of the announcer blared through the speakers, stealing the air in her lungs. YN wanted nothing but to make it stop—for the world to go silent and still, even if just for a moment. But wonders didn't happen with people like her, so she continued to work, pushing herself through her gritted teeth.

''Welcome, welcome to what seems to be the last day in this beautiful arena!'' The blue-haired man spoke, his accent making YN's head hurt even more. ''To remind our dear viewers all across the Panem, here is a small recap from my colleague and sometimes friend, Claudius.''

''Thank you, Caesar. We are left with only three tributes on day eighteen—the first, of course, being Cato from District 2. His strategy has proved efficient so far; no doubt, he is one of the best contestants we've seen in a long time. And then, much to my surprise, a pair of tributes from District 12 are still in the games—their love story truly captivated the audience. Let's see what this day, or should we say night, brings us today and who will have the odds in their favour in the end.''

YN doesn't react to their comments; it feels wrong to compare herself to the kids out there, being selfish enough to think she deserves a break. She should be counting her lucky stars; it isn't her there, going through the bodies of the competitors one by one. Cato received body armour from the sponsors; that was good. He also lost his district partner; YN remembers her now; she was in his ''new'' friend group. She feels sorry for the girl; her death was awful, and her screaming Cato's name will forever be engraved in YN's memory.

''Aha, here he is! Our gladiator from District 2—he is running from—what's that?—wolves! Look at that speed—he surely is a good runner!''

YN turns her attention to the giant screen—surely enough, Cato is running from some monstrous creatures. He is bloodied; his skin is covered in bruises. YN prays it all will stop soon and he will get home safe. He doesn't even flinch when the arrow shot by twelve hits his chest; he just keeps running towards the Cornucopia.

''Please,'' YN whispers. He can't die, not when he has survived for so long.

''Look at them—all of the tributes managed to get on the Cornucopia just in time! Oh, here is a clever move from Cato's side: having Peeta in a headlock is a classic move. Now, he is sort of a ''human shield''. Brilliant!''

"Go on, shoot.'' Cato's voice booms through the speakers, sending shivers down YN's back. She missed hearing his voice, but it didn't even sound like him anymore. Like a stranger talking from the inside of what looked like her friend. '' And we both go down, and you win. Go on. I'm dead, anyway! I always was, right? I didn't know that until now. Isn't that what they want, huh?''

What the fuck was he doing? YN's mind raced—why won't he just kill him and get it over with? She doesn't notice how her hands begin to shake and how everyone else in the room seems to be eyeing her.

''No! I can still do this. I can still do this. One more kill. It's the only thing I know how to do. Bring pride to my district. Not that it matters."

''Kill him! For fuck's sake, just kill him!'' YN stands up, her nerves getting the best of her. Her voice echoes—she didn't mean to say it out loud.

''No talking!'' The peacekeeper in front of her shouts, his hand steady on the gun.

YN turns to face him slowly. Who was he to tell her to shut up when it was her friend who was dying right before her eyes? She feels her hands clench into fists; she will be able to take him down in a fight, maybe even kill him. YN was willing to try, at least.

''She won't talk no more,'' one of the older men in the group mutters, his voice bitter. ''Sit down, child.''

YN wants to argue, wants to scream or run until the bullet catches up to her, but she doesn't. What use would her dead body be to her grandpa? So she sits down, biting her cheek until her mouth fills with a familiar iron taste. Everything she wants to say, she tastes in her throat instead.

''Wait, can we zoom in on here?'' One of the announcers asks. ''Here, yes, what exactly are they staring at? It fell from Cato's pocket, right?''

'''Well, Claudius, it looks like a candy wrap to me. The real question is: why does Cato have one in the first place? He didn't strike me as a big sweets fan. ''

''Well, whatever it is, it seems to have changed his mind—look at how masterfully he throws Peeta down, like a feather! Oh, and now he is lurching for the girl on fire!''

A loud snap is heard through the speakers, and the girl falls, lifeless. YN covers her face with her hands, the dirt from them leaving a mark on her sweaty face. A choir of relieved exhales rings through the room.

''Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we have our 75th victor!''

It's hard, the first thing Cato realizes. Being here, breathing in the air that feels like spikes inside his lungs—everything was supposed to be easy, but it's so far from that. They have a nice house now; it has a room for each of his brothers, and even twins don't have to share anymore. His dad doesn't work; it's not fitting for victor's family to do so, so he takes up gardening instead. If a few years ago Cato heard that his father would ramble about how badly roses had grown on this soil, he would've checked himself into a mental asylum.

He isn't very loved in the Capitol, but his mentors said it was for the best. Cato believes them, but it stings a little. He wanted glory but got disgusted instead. It was not a fair trade, but at least his debt is paid, as is his brothers'. Money could buy a lot of things, just like he predicted, but it couldn't buy him peace. Cato has nothing ahead of him; he can't study like his peers do, can't work, can't live, and pretend it didn't happen. It very much did—when he closes his eyes, he can still smell the blood on his hands.

That's why he is here instead of Victor's village, eating ice cream on the empty main square in the warm evening. It's funny to think how he wanted to try it, collecting the money his father let him have for almost a year before ordering his first chocolate scoop. It was the tastiest thing he had ever eaten; now, it tasted just like every other one.

He hears the nearing footsteps—the people are returning from the day shift in the factories. Cato nods to a few of them—old neighbours, parents of classmates, or dad's friends. The men are all different—short and tall, ginger, blond and brunette—but they all bear the same expression that Capitoleers called ''a district 2 glare'' once. Cato used to get angry when he heard it, but now his face is no different—the word is a heavy thing to endure.

His eyes drift to the only person looking up and not on the road ahead—of course, it's YN. She thinks about something only she and the sun know, her steps mirroring those of the people ahead. One of the men notices him watching; he gently shoves her shoulder, whispering something in her ear before pointing in the direction of his seat. Suddenly, Cato wants to hide the ice cream in his hand and run away, but he doesn't.

''Enjoying your victory, Mister Hadley?'' Her voice is loud and filled with teasing, and a few men snicker at them.

Cato isn't angry; he deserves it, quite frankly. ''Always was known for the sweet tooth,'' he shrugs. ''As a matter of fact, are you free any time soon?'' He asks when the crowd is far enough away.

YN raises an eyebrow at him. ''Why is that? You know I work.''

''I was hoping you and your grandpa could come by sometime. Mom is awfully lonely, and the boys would love to see you, too.''

She nods. ''I am free on Sunday, but Grandpa is still a little shy about eating in front of people.''

''I'll ask mom to cook a soup then—it's better?'' He would cook the damn soup himself if it meant seeing her for longer than five minutes. If it meant not being alone in that house, that reeked of the arena.

''Yes, I think we can do that. What about 12? We could be a little late with all that walking.''

''Thank you; it's perfect.''

YN smiles at him. For the first time since he won, someone smiled at him. Cato smiles back, although he is sure it comes out more as a grin. YN doesn't notice or pretends to do so.

''Oh, come in! Janus, come right down; the guests are here!''

YN and her grandpa are greeted with Miss Hadley's voice, her warm hands wrapping first around her, and then the older man. YN smiles; she missed just sitting down for a meal without having to worry about how much money she was going to need for the next one. The boys have grown. They shout, each trying to be the first to show her their own rooms and the cool things they have. YN tries not to get lost in the maze of toys, balls, books, and a thousand other different things, while Grandpa talks with Mr. Janus.

When the boys start to embark on what feels like a fifth circle around the house, Miss Hadley puts an end to it. ''That's enough! YN, darling, come sit here—what would you like to eat?''

The table is full of different things. There are so many that they could eat for a few weeks and be full. YN doesn't think she saw that many vegetables and fruits in her life. She asks for what everyone is having and is happy to have her plate full. Grandpa also seems to be enjoying himself; he insists on wearing his best shirt for the occasion and now listens attentively to what the twins have to say. They make a good team, YN thinks—twins finally found free ears that are not yet tired of them, and there is nothing that Grandpa loves more than a good story.

When the dinner is over, YN speaks, talking to Miss Hadley beside her. ''Thank you for the invitation; your house is just lovely.''

''Cato made us clean every corner of it before you came—I didn't even have time to play outside!'' The youngest boy whines, pouting slightly.

YN chuckles as she watches colour gather at Cato's ears, his eyes glued to the dish in front of him. ''Well, it was definitely worth it—I had the most marvelous time with you here. And the food was delicious! But I am afraid we have to go; Grandpa should walk when it's still light outside.''

''We will take you home,'' Cato announces, nodding to the twins to put on their shoes. They do so happily, grabbing them and their jackets before Grandpa has a chance to stand up and stick to his side like glue.

The evening is pleasant; the wind is quite chilly, but Cato doesn't mind. The only sound on the street is twins arguing over who will help Grandpa Marc with his cane for the next two minutes.

''Thank you for coming,'' he says, looking at the woman walking beside him.

''Of course. We had a good time, - I hope you did too. How's life been? We haven't talked in a while.''

''Good,'' Cato lies. ''And yours?''

''Better. Since your dad quit, I got the day shift; it pays better, and I can finally get rid of those horrible dark circles.''

Cato nods. ''I've been thinking a lot about our past these days, especially our childhood. It feels like a lifetime ago.''

''Things change,'' YN shrugs. ''We've grown and become different people since then. I would've never imagined working at the factory, but here I am. And you win the games—that was your dream.''

''Don't you miss it? How easy were things back then?''

YN smiles. ''They never were easy, I think; we just couldn't understand them properly. Besides, not much changed, if you think about it.''

''Maybe not for you.''

''Why?'' YN turns to look at him.

Cato swallows. ''YN, they made me different. The games, all those kills—they changed me.''

''You did what you had to survive. It doesn't matter now that you are here.''

''You think I don't notice how people tiptoe around me now? How can Mom stand to look at me for more than a minute? How do boys try to avoid me at all costs? And dad—he doesn't even speak to me! ''

YN is silent. Cato curses in his mind—he shouldn't have said that. He takes a deep breath. ''I'm sorry. It just feels weird. It's like I don't have a home to return to and can't get into a new one. Just hanging there, mid-air.''

''When Grandpa was in the hospital, that's how it felt. I was too young to be alone, but there was no choice but to watch as everything I once loved fell into ruins. I was supposed to be going to movies, partying, and sneaking out, not juggling the bills from medication and the shop. But life decided otherwise. So, I built my own home within myself—one that nothing could tear down or take away.''

''I don't think there is anything left to build on. I'm not like you; everything anyone sees when they look at me is a monster .''

''I don't.'' YN stops. ''I see the boy who brought me a pretty big book with pictures so I could give the change correctly; I see a man who volunteered for his family to have a chance at a better life. I see you, real you, not the role mentors or Capitol made you play. Just Cato.''

''Can I hug you?'' His voice is barely above a whisper.

YN doesn't answer - she just takes a step closer into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder.

''I'm sorry; I am so sorry for everything I've done," Cato mutters, his hands trembling as he holds onto YN tightly. ''I should've said it sooner. ''

''It doesn't matter now. We survived this; we are still here, you and I.''

Cato nods; his tears mix with hers, pooling in patches on his shirt. They are different—children who were forced to grow up too early in a world that wasn't for them. ''I think I never lost it—my home. It was always here, with you, on this street. Isn't it funny? All those years of searching, only to return here, where we truly belong?''

''The butcher's, you mean? If you wanted more candy, you could've just asked,'' YN smiles, whipping away her red eyes.

''Fucking finally,'' an aged voice mutters from behind the corner.

''Grandpa Marc!'' the twins turn to him, surprised.

The old man just smiles, his wrinkled face appearing younger with joy. ''Don't tell YN I said that. She'll never let me live it down."

The twins giggle, their happy laughter echoing on the street. A few moments later, Grandpa Marc joins in, his breathy laugh adding to the chorus. It's not the first time the street leading to the butcher's was woken up by sounds of joy, and he hoped it wouldn't be the last.

#imagine #hunger games #character x you #cato hunger games #cato hadley #cato x reader #cato hadley x reader #cato hadley fanfiction #the hunger games #district two #childhood friends to lovers #au #love this pookie so much #careers #thg cato

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seeyoulbleed · 6 months

Text

Fixation

For @the-slasher-files Bloodfest 2023 event!! Chose the prompt trap(s). Go check it out, it's open to everyone!!

Summary: You learn some unsettling things about what it means to be loved by a Uchiha, let alone Madara himself. gender-neutral reader. SFW.

"It's a bit hot, so be careful-" You jinx yourself, your long pant legs tripping you. Down you go, scalding water splashing your hand. Tender is the flesh that it spills off of, red and welling and all too vulnerable.

He's there within a moment, catching your hand gently in his, tugging you into his grasp before you can truly tumble to the floor. Madara lets the porcelain teapot he bought for your birthday shatter across the tatami mats, his focus only on you.

You hate it when he looks at you like this.

Fathomless black eyes pinning you in place, the butterfly to his all-knowing gaze, the glimmer of red you catch piercing you right through. Saying Madara Uchiha is an intimidating man is a gross understatement, one that fails to truly encompass everything that he is. There's something primordial to the very air around him, something old and heavy that presses in on you to keep you in place.

You think he knows what he does to you. Knows how he's the hawk to your rabbit, caught in his talons. He's trying so hard to be soft, to be tame, as he calls for a healer. All is silent as he sits you down far from the mess. You look everywhere but him, a flush crawling up your neck. Does he have to stare?

"I apologize. I do not wish you discomfort."

Your mouth goes dry and you duck your head. You hadn't realized you'd said it out loud. But you always do forget yourself when you're with him- it's what made this...whatever this is, all the more concerning. Despite the improperness of the whole thing, he's moved you into the Uchiha complex, right within his own chambers. He's never done anything untoward, has been even kind in his own way, but there is not a doubt in your mind he is biding his time.

For what? He already has you. What is he waiting for?

The healer comes rushing in, startling you out of your thoughts. It makes you jump, and that makes Madara turn that heavy gaze of his onto the woman. You peek from the corner of your eyes and watch in real-time as fear strikes her, her elderly face turning ashen as she begs his pardon. He grants her the reprieve in the form of focusing on your hand.

"Heal it."

The healer nods, her once Uchiha black hair now a withered grey that twists out of her face in a simple braid. Familiar black eyes don't bother to look at you, only at your wound, her crepe paper-thin skinned hands trembling, unwilling to touch you fully.

Madara hears something you cannot, red filling the black of his eyes. The tomoe spins lazily in ire.

"Stay here. I will return shortly." His hand hovers by your cheek, his fingertips brushing the curve of it light as a feather. It twitches, something deeper in his eyes that you refuse to acknowledge flickering to life. Like a candle, it's snuffed out before you can pretend it was never there.

He's gone within a blink and it is only you and the healer.

Her chakra is mint green where it coats your skin, the healing energy flowing through you and remaking your cells anew. How it truly worked escaped you as most ninja arts do but its soft color entrances you. So used to black and red, you had nearly forgotten such a gentle color.

"The way he loves you...I will never understand it," The healer admits in a whisper.

"He does not love me." You reply, tone empty. "Not the way you believe."

"It may not be a love you understand, but he loves you all the same. An Uchiha loves with every breath. Every pulse of his veins belongs to you. It may appear twisted, but it is the way we love."

"It's just some kind of fixation. You said it yourself you don't understand his love."

She licks her lips and takes a moment to think of her next words, the green chakra sputtering out as the last of your skin heals. "He has always been an intense man. A devoted man. I do not doubt he loves you, I doubt he knows how to control it. And that surprises me most of all given all that he is."

"Why are you telling me this?" You mutter, taking your hand back. You flex it, watching the new skin with trepidation building in your gut.

"I'm warning you. Do not think things will stay as they are. You sleep in his room but the clan elders whisper how he has yet to bed you. They whisper how he has yet to bring up wedding plans, and yet he has ordered bands from the Land of Iron. This moment of peace you are living in will not last and you will come to know what it truly means to be loved by a Uchiha, let alone one like my Lord."

You drop your hand. Blood has spilled from where you bit into your cheek, a sudden rage filling you.

"I never asked nor agreed to any of this."

She gives you a pitying look. "Nobody ever does. But love comes and takes from us all the same."

#madara uchiha x reader #madara uchiha x you #madara uchiha imagine #red writes #naruto x reader #idk what else to tag

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sqwdkllr · 3 months

Note

would you be willing to share how you do your lineart / coloring / rendering with the specific brushes?? i have a learning disability, and have trouble finding any art tutorials that give in depth explanations to what brushes they use for a specific outcome. anything can help, thank you! - 🥬

Long post time. 🍴

okay so most, if not ALL, of the tricks are hidden in the way i color and organize myself (more like lack of as you will see in the image above) the brush i have been using currently is called the flat brush, and is not a custom brush, just add like 50 percent stabilization to it and 0% jitter and its the same as mine ! promise !! after you do your flat colors you might think "huh my colors look a bit too dull but i wanted them to give a warmer tone" WELL I HAVE THE MOST AMAZING TOOL THAT PROCREATE HAS TO OFFER. The little wand at the top next to the wrench, click that and go to curves. make sure you are on the layer where all your duplicate flat colors + lineart are and mess around it. I always do this to make my colors fit what im trying to go for. super super useful !!

as for the brushes, i only tend to stick to 1 for an entire drawing but here is a list in the ways i find them more useful in just in case The brushes (all are default with only stabilization changes) - Mercury brush: quick easy way to color pick and render, texture of pastel sticks - Syrup brush: crisp lineart super clean and high sensitivity to pen pressure, texture of pixels very digital - Dry Ink: sketch and loose drawings, texture of a crayon - Flat Brush: lineart and color blending and an all around multiple use brush - Soft Brush: i only really use this to get gradients occasionally

OKAY LAST THING !! Make your canvas BIG. I make mine very very big, here are a few of the examples of the kinds of canvas sizes I use, trust me it DOES make a difference on the brushes and just in general. (Ignore the paper + face paint one I never use those lol)

OKAY SUPER LONG POST BUT I HOPE THIS HELPS SORRY IF THIS IS STILL CONFUSING

#long post #ask #anon #faq

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bratshaws · 2 months

Text

through the hourglass 368. brb x oc

a/n: WHY IS THIS MAN SO BEAUTIFUL (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: kinda suggestive,nothing more

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

/316/317/318/319/320/321/322/323/324/325/326/327/328/329/330/331/332/333/334/335/336/337/338/339/340/341/342/343/344/345/346/347/348/349/350/351/352/353/354/355/356/357/358/359/360/361/362/363/364/365/366

/367

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @novastories @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix @lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @louisahale @leobabbyyy @booklover2sblog @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

@caitsymichelle13 @becks-things @caatheeriinee07 @fanboyswhore9 @jesfreedark @katiemcrae @lilmonstrjedi @hobiismyhopeu @teacupsandtopgun @insominac23 @gh0stsgoodgirl @mygyn @chavivaelisheva @kmc1989 @enchantingharmonyalpaca @callsign-magnolia @mrsbradshaw01

Beatrice smiles when a pair of muscular arms wrap around her waist as she folds their oldest’s clothes,”Hey,” she whispers, “I thought I told you to rest.” she doesn’t stop smiling, cheeks hurting when his lips peck her neck and he props his chin on her shoulder.

“Guess I missed you.”

“Mhm.”

“Nikki is up?”

“She’s waking up, the twins are still asleep.” she says, “I thought it’d be good to fold some of her clothes before she wakes fully,” and he pulls her closer to his chest, humming deep in his throat. “She got that from someone,I think.”

She turned in his arms, her gaze meeting his as she searched for the words to express her love for him. But before she could speak, he leaned down, capturing her lips in a tender kiss.

When they finally pulled away, Beatrice touched his cheek, “Do you want to help me?”

He smiled, a gentle curve of his lips that reached his eyes. "Of course, gorgeous," he replied, "I'd be honored to help you."

“Honored,huh?”

Together, they moved to the small pile of clothes laid out on the bed, each garment a memory woven into the fabric of their lives. Beatrice picked up a tiny onesie, pink and delicate, and held it up to the light, admiring the intricate stitching.

"It feels like just yesterday we brought Nikki home in this," she murmured, rubbing her thumb over the tiny embroidery.

He nodded, his fingers tracing the outline of the fabric. "Time flies, doesn't it?" he said, his tone reflective. "It's hard to believe she's already grown so much."

"You're amazing with them," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

He looked up, a soft smile playing on his lips. "What? Folding clothes? You learn how to be good at it when you are in the Navy.” he flips the tiny piece of clothing quickly, forming a perfect square, “See?”

As he finished folding the onesie, he carefully placed it in the pile with the rest of Nikki's clothes. "There we go," he said, satisfaction evident in his voice.

Beatrice smiled, reaching out to take his hand. "Thank you for helping me," she said softly, squeezing his fingers gently.

He returned her smile, his eyes warm. "Anytime, baby," he replied, his tone sincere. "I'm always here to help you, you know that."

"We should probably put these away," she said, “Before Nikki and the twins wake up.” she hears the known babbling from their one year old daughter, “Nevermind,Nikki is already up.”

She glanced over at the baby monitor, noting the soft sounds of the twins still sleeping peacefully and Nicole sitting on her crib, brown hair a mess and in all angles. With a gentle tug, she led her husband towards her room, where neatly folded clothes awaited their rightful places in her very kid friendly dresser.

As in Nicole discovered stickers and managed to glue them all on it.

The room was filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional coo from Nikki in the other room. Beatrice stole glances at her husband as they worked, feeling a rush of gratitude and love for the man beside her.

As they finished putting away the last of Nikki's clothes, Beatrice leaned against the dresser, exhaling softly. "Thank you," she said again, her voice filled with genuine appreciation.

He turned to her, a soft smile on his lips. "Anything for you," he replied, his gaze filled with warmth. “Doesn’t feel fair I’m the only one being pampered today.”

‘Well,LC,your promotion ceremony is tomorrow…so…” she walks around her husband towards Nicole’s crib, kissing the three tiny scars on his chin, “I love pampering you.”

"You know," she said softly, tracing her finger along the edge of one of the scars, "I still worry about you every time you go out there."

Her husband's expression softened, and he reached out to cup her cheek, his touch warm and reassuring. "I know, gorgeous," he said, his voice gentle. "But you also know that I'll always come back to you."

Beatrice nodded, "I know," she whispered, leaning into his touch. "But that doesn't make it any easier."

He pulled her into his arms, holding her close as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I promise to always come back to you," he murmured against her hair. "You and the kids are my everything."

Beatrice closed her eyes, feeling a sense of peace wash over her at his words. She knew he meant them with every fiber of his being, and she couldn't imagine her life without him by her side.

With a soft smile, Beatrice turned her attention back to Nicole, who was now happily playing with her toys in her crib. "Looks like someone's in a good mood today," she remarked, her voice filled with affection.

Her husband chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "She definitely takes after you," he said, his tone teasing. "Always so cheerful in the morning."

“I’m not that cheerful in the morning,Roos.”

"Maybe not as cheerful as Nicole, but you're definitely a sight for sore eyes," he said, reaching over to ruffle her hair affectionately.

Beatrice swatted his hand away with a mock scowl, though her eyes twinkled with amusement. "Flattery will get you everywhere, you know," she teased, her tone light and affectionate. “Bradley Bradshaw, you are terrible.”

Bradley grinned, "Oh, I know, but you love me anyway," he teased, pulling her into another embrace.

Beatrice couldn't help but laugh, her heart swelling with affection for this man who knew just how to make her smile . "I suppose I do," she admitted, leaning into his warmth. “Come on, Roos, Nikki is just staring at us wondering when she’ll escape this prison that is her crib.”

He lets her go with some hesitance and Beatrice just smiles again as she walks up to the crib "Alright, little miss," she cooed, reaching down to scoop Nikki up into her arms. "Let's get you out of there, shall we?"

Nikki's face lit up with a toothy grin as Beatrice lifted her out of the crib, her chubby arms wrapping around her mother's neck in a tight hug. "Looks like someone's ready for breakfast," he remarked, stepping closer to them. "Shall we go downstairs and see what delicious treats Mommy has prepared for us?"

Nikki let out a babble of excitement, “Yea!” her eyes lighting up at the mention of food. Beatrice laughed, nodding in agreement.

“Baby formula for her and some nice puréed fruits.” she smiles in reply, “Why don’t you take her,Roos? I’m gonna check on the twins and you already had breakfast,so!’

Bradley grinned and nodded, taking Nikki into his arms. "Sure thing, baby. I'll take care of this little munchkin while you check on the twins." He flashed her a wink before turning to Nikki, bouncing her gently as he headed out of the room.

Beatrice watched them go with a fond smile, feeling grateful for the simple joy of their morning routine. With a sigh of contentment, she turned her attention to the twins' room, tiptoeing quietly across the hall.

Pushing the door open slowly, Beatrice peeked inside to find Alex and Ava still fast asleep in their cribs. The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over their faces. Beatrice couldn't help but feel a surge of love and warmth as she gazed at her sleeping babies.

Moving silently, she crossed the room to Gavin’s crib first, leaning down to brush a soft kiss against his forehead. His tiny chest rose and fell rhythmically with each breath,and with a smile, Beatrice tucked the blanket around him a little tighter before turning to Aurora’s crib.

Ava lay curled up on her side, her chubby cheeks flushed with sleep. Beatrice couldn't resist the urge to run her fingers through her daughter's silky hair, marveling at the miracle of her existence.

With one last loving glance at the twins, Beatrice quietly slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. She made her way downstairs to join Bradley and Nikki in the kitchen, where the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air.

Bradley was already seated at the table with Nikki in his lap, a wide grin on his face as he cooed and played with her. Beatrice couldn't help but smile at the sight, feeling her heart swell with love for her little family.

"Good morning, you two," she greeted them, crossing the room to pour herself a cup of coffee. "Did you sleep well, Nikki?"

Nikki giggled in response, reaching out to grab at Beatrice's hair with chubby fingers. Beatrice laughed, gently extricating herself from her daughter's grasp before taking a seat at the table.

"We both slept like babies," Bradley replied with a grin, bouncing Nikki on his knee. "Isn't that right, munchkin? And mama surprised me!"

Nikki let out another delighted giggle, her eyes sparkling with joy as she reached out to grab at Bradley's mustache. “Ow!Hey! Come on!”

Bradley playfully dodged her tiny fingers, making exaggerated faces that only elicited more giggles from their daughter. Setting her coffee down, Beatrice reached over to gently take Nikki's hand, diverting her attention from Bradley's mustache. "Be gentle, sweetheart," she reminded her with a soft smile. "We don't want to hurt Daddy."

Nikki seemed to understand, and instead of tugging at Bradley's facial hair, she turned her attention to a nearby toy, happily babbling as she played with it on the table.

Bradley let out a relieved sigh, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Thanks, baby. I don't think I could handle being attacked by tiny fingers and giggles all day."

"You're welcome," she replied teasingly. "But you better get used to it. You knew that once Nikki started crawling, there’d be no stopping her."

Bradley grinned, his eyes lighting up "Oh, I know.," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Our peaceful mornings will be a thing of the past."

“Aa!”

“Sorry,sweetie, dada is just joking.”

With a contented sigh, Beatrice leaned back in her chair, savoring the moment. She watched as Bradley continued to play with Nikki, "You're quite the entertainer, Daddy," Beatrice remarked, a fond smile tugging at her lips as she observed the playful exchange between father and daughter.

Bradley grinned"Well, you know me," he replied, "I've always been good with an audience."

Beatrice chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. "That you have, dear," she agreed, “You think Nikki or the twins will be…piano players just like you- sorry,I meant, multi instrumentalists like you?”

"I suppose anything is possible," he replied thoughtfully, "But it's too early to tell. They're still so young. We'll just have to wait and see what they gravitate towards."

Beatrice smiled at the image, her mind drifting to a future filled with music and laughter. "It certainly would be something special," she agreed. "But for now, let's just focus on enjoying these precious moments with them. Oh, by the way, since today is pampering my husband day,I’m going to go out really quick and get stuff for you.”

As if on cue, Nikki let out a delighted squeal, her chubby arms reaching out towards Bradley. He scooped her up into his arms, peppering her face with kisses as she giggled with delight. Bradley placed Nikki back in her high chair, ready to tackle the day ahead. She joined him at the table, reaching for a plate of freshly baked scones that Bradley had prepared earlier.

“What?” he asked, “Sorry,got distracted.”

She smiles, “I said that I’ll go out and get stuff for you.”

His eyebrows perked up as he adjusted Nicole in her chair, “...what kinda stuff?”

Beatrice grinned. "Oh, just some surprises," she replied playfully, shrugging her shoulders "You'll just have to wait and see."

"You're full of surprises, aren't you, Bea?" he said with a grin, leaning in to press a quick kiss to her cheek. "Well,okay…are you going to take long?"

“Hmmmm maybe,”

“Maybe?”

With a wink, Beatrice rose from the table, grabbing her coat from the hook by the door. "I won't be long,or maybe I will." she promised, slipping her arms into the sleeves. "Just need to run a few errands."

He purses his lips, “...baby what are you planning?”

Beatrice just grinned mischievously in response, giving Bradley a playful wink before heading out the door. Bradley watched her go with a curious expression, wondering what surprises his wife had in store for him.

…part of him hoped they’d be naughty.

#im happy yall are still here #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader #tgm oc #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction

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pleucas · 10 months

Note

Would you ever consider doing a colouring tutorial?

Heyooooooo

I've done a coloring post before (a few months prior), but somehow, my coloring/painting process has changed a lot since then lol. I'll give a breakdown of my process (and go into specifics on coloring) here, but please do take it with a grain (or a spoonful) of salt... I'm still very much learning, and though you can use my process as a guide, experiment on your own to find what works for you! This post got a little long I'm ngl so. open at ur own risk. it's really just me rambling and being a bit too pretentious for my own good

using my recent post as an example, my process is basically just:

first i get a clean sketch (after many hours of pain finding detailed references lol), not gonna go into that since you asked abt coloring

then i immediately go to block out shapes over the sketch. For big paintings, I don't do lineart (because i find that it eliminates a lot of depth that can be achieved with shapes and shading) — for smaller sketches and pieces, i'll do lineart tho.

I started darker to lighter in this painting because I knew I wanted harsh light. For me, it's a lot easier to project "additions" onto a surface — ie, if there's a harsh light, that's the addition vs. a shadow in neutral lighting as the addition. dunno if that makes sense, but breaking tones down like that helps me understand how i want to chronologically color smth and choose my bases:

for example, since I knew I was gonna have harsh light here, I felt comfortable with just getting the tones for my shadows down immediately. There won't be many midtones due to how extreme I saw it to be, so there was no point in finding a neutral base tone.

how i choose colors varies from painting to painting, but for this one, I decided to lean purple-blue because skk are just one of many red and blue gays (same reason why most of my other skk works lean red-blue-purple), and also because I knew I wanted my light to be on the warmer side — thus, the shadows and unlit areas will be cooler.

i also wanted it to recede (to emphasize the perspective and for depth), so for the base colors, i made them cooler + darker as they went back. This wasn't as clear in the finished product, but i think it did a good job at reminding me the vibe i wanted as i rendered

By how much I've written for this step, I guess you can assume that it's the step I put the most consideration into — and you'd be right. I think base colors really determine the vibe, and it sets you up for the rest of the painting. Sometimes I have to color adjust my bases over and over (with hue adjustments, color balance, curves) until I'm satisfied. I think that satisfaction is obtained w/ more ease as I've painted more and more. Alongside the sketch, this step takes me quite a while. Sometimes it's fun to mess with really wild color combos, but that's another topic.

Then I block out the lighting, which is probably the most drastic step but also somehow the quickest for me. Once you understand how light affects color (warmth, tone, etc) and you gain confidence with it, blocking out values in relation to base tones isn't too hard. That ofc takes practice and a lot of fundamental understanding of Shapes & Colors but there's a lot of stuff online abt the theory specifically from professionals, so I'm not gonna lecture y'all as a fanartist for glorified literary author rpf

then i just start rendering, layer by layer. above is a screenshot i took mid-rendering; at this point, dazai's clothes were basically done but I later worked on the face + hair more and textured the tie.

I try to do the stuff I want people to focus on first, because at least for me, that's when I have the most energy to make smth detailed — the more detailed an area is, the more naturally drawn you eye is to it (this is because the brain likes areas of high contrast, and details are entirely founded on the placement of contrast).

My art has never been too extremely detailed — I enjoy flatter + bigger shapes, styled texturing and silly patterns, but I find that "detail" still translates into "effort". When I look at paintings, it's very clear where someone put most of their effort — and when I can't tell, then I know I have a very confident + experienced artist who can effectively distribute their workflow (goalz). So yeah, I render in my very silly poly style but still keep that in mind.

eventually, I finish rendering. This part is kinda a blur tbh, and it always varies from artist to artist. I'd say the things I keep in mind are:

shape + form (making sure my rendering doesn't mess up gesture or vibes, and that it keeps things loose)

composition (making sure i don't overdo areas where i don't want people to focus on)

and tone (ensuring that the depth and believability of the scene stays intact so that my non-realistic style can work)

I added the bullet because i wanted a reason for the goofy expressions, just a bit more pizazz so that skk's drama was also believable lol. also visual storytelling or whtv (but that's not something i usually prioritize, it mostly comes with the concept and sketch).

I also added the bullet for some compositional spice. the dark shadow on dazai's arms was there to also emphasize the warped perspective, but it also left a weirdly empty vibe that I didn't enjoy lol. So yeah, bullet! and ofc my favorite, weird flowy line pattern thing that doesn't adhere to the laws of physics

I think a lot of my traditional painting experience leaks into my digital painting practice. I don't like lineart too much, and since I mainly work with acrylic, I rely on opaque color blocks, layering, and "carving out" shapes. probably explains my affinity for solid flat brushes in Procreate,,,,, but yeah. It's a little all over the place, but at its core, it's a lot of technical stuff mixed with habits after finding what works for me.

Dunno if this helps at all, or if it was interesting lolol. Thank you for reading until the end if you're still here! I appreciate it. I'm still learning but I've definitely learned a lot since I started this blog so it's exciting to track my progress. I'm sure I'll see this in a few years and laugh lolol.

#pleuart #pleucas #casasks #sorry it got a little long #i did Not proofread this so there will prolly be a bunch of typos. just shout at me i'll fix it

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