lovesickforhim

[lovesickforhim]

𝐀 𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⋮ ℜ𝔦𝔠𝔨 𝔊𝔯𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔰

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: You were a sin too tempting to forget—a fire that burned Rick Grimes alive. Consumed by desire, he realized repentance would never be enough, and redemption was never an option.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Smut ⋮ Cheating ⋮ Age Gap ⋮ Infidelity ⋮ Adultery ⋮ Somnophilia ⋮ Angst ⋮ Obsession ⋮ Dacryphilia ⋮ Size Kink ⋮ Outdoor Sex ⋮ Cunnilingus ⋮ Praise Kink ⋮ Possessive Behavior ⋮ Manipulation ⋮ Character Death ⋮ Language ⋮ Shane Walsh

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 22.822 𝑺𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈: S02E07 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Fem!Reader

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ⋮ 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑮𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔 ⋮ 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑶𝒏𝒆: 𝑨 𝑻𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆 𝑶𝒇 𝑺𝒊𝒏

You were still catching your breath when you left Rick alone by the chicken coop.

With your legs feeling shaky, your skin sweaty and sensitive from where his hands had been, from where his mouth had devoured you, his taste was still on your tongue.

And with every second you closed your eyes only to open them again as you walked, all you could see was him—his shoulders trembling, his voice breaking, his hands grabbing you like he was desperate to hold on, even as he tried to convince himself to let go.

To not lose himself in the temptation of you.

You turned your head just enough to get a look at him disappearing into the dark behind you, his steps uneven, his belt still loose around his waist. Smirking to yourself, you turned back toward your tent, only to realize you weren't alone.

Shane was nearby, walking toward his own tent, eyes locked onto Rick... and then back on you. He hadn't said a word, but you'd seen the look on his face. The way his mouth had twitched, showing just a small, little hint of a smirk, his head had tilted slightly, like he was working through something in his mind, seconds before he left.

Like he knew.

Meanwhile, Rick barely made it back to his tent without stumbling.

His legs felt unsteady, his arms too heavy, his skin wet with sweat. He still smelled like you. The scent of you clung to him, sinking into his clothes and his bones.

His lips were still swollen from yours.

His hands were still trembling.

And then he saw them—Lori and Carl, curled up together in their tent, their breathing quiet with only a little snore here and there. Peaceful.

Rick stared at them for a while.

The rush of blood in his ears, the pounding of his racing heart in his chest as if it was trying to break free behind his ribs, and the ache still pulsing in his cock—it all stopped as reality came back to him.

What the fuck did I just do?

His mouth went dry, his stomach dropped, and the knot in his throat felt so tight it made him feel unable to breathe.

He had just fucked you—had let himself drown in you, let himself give in to something reckless and wrong—and now he was standing here, looking at the family he had just betrayed.

Goddamn it. Goddamn it.

Rick had no idea how he was supposed to do this—how he was supposed to step into that tent, lie down beside his wife, and pretend like he hadn't just—but then he saw it.

Something small. Something barely noticeable, near the edge of the tent.

He frowned, trying to get closer, his breath still coming too fast. His fingers reached down before he could think, before he could even stop himself.

A package.

Pills.

Not just any pills.

Abortion pills.

He froze in place. His pulse rang in his ears, louder than before, louder than anything else in the world.

Lori moved slightly in her sleep, but Rick didn't care.

She had been planning to get rid of… a baby?

The thought of it cut through him like a knife, the blade slicing him open. First, he betrayed Lori. Now, he was standing here, holding proof that she had been about to betray him, too.

But what if she had already betrayed him at this point?

His fingers clenched around the package, his grip tight, his whole body tense as he turned to reach out, grabbing Lori's shoulder and shaking her awake.

She gasped, her eyes flying open, her body stiffening slightly.

"Rick?" She grumbled, voice groggy and seemingly confused.

He didn't give her a second to fully wake up. Didn't give her a second to pretend like everything was normal.

"Is there something you need to tell me?"

Lori blinked at him as he stepped out of the tent, pushing herself up on her elbows, frowning before she finally followed him.

"Rick, what—?"

He turned around in an instant, holding up the package right in front of her eyes.

"We can't leave," she interrupted herself immediately, her voice quiet and careful. "I'm pregnant."

"Are you?" Rick asked in return, leaving no time for her to argue, but not letting it show how much this had just affected him, his voice sounding cold and empty.

Lori looked exhausted. Defeated.

"I threw them up," she continued. "You can yell if you want. You can scream if you have to, but talk to me."

Rick stared at her.

Talk to her?

Talk to her?

His fingers tightened around the package in his hand. "How long have you known?"

"Does it matter?" Lori asked, but Rick simply clenched his jaw in return.

"Days? Weeks?" His voice rose slightly, just enough to make her tense up. "And you didn't tell me?"

"I'm telling you now."

"No." He held up the package again, bringing it closer to her face. "I found these. So Glenn knows, right? Instead of going to me, you sent him to get pills?"

"I panicked," Lori answered and looked away.

Rick shook his head, scoffing, running a hand over his mouth. "You tell me we have no roof and no walls—"

"Do not put this on me!" Lori snapped, but Rick continued further.

"You tear into me for keeping secrets," he hissed, stepping closer, "when you're holding onto this?"

Lori's expression changed—frustration, confusion, anger—her emotions were all over the place.

"You want me to bring a baby into this?" She demanded. "To live a short, cruel life? How can you think like that? We can't even protect the son we already have!"

"So this is the solution?" Rick shot back, letting the package of the pills fall to the ground in front of her feet.

Lori let out a deep breath, shaking her head. "Rick, I threw them up. I screwed up. I don't know how we do this."

Rick still stared at her. His pulse was like a hammer pounding a nail into his ribs.

"We can make it work," he suddenly said, voice quieter now, but still tense. "You threw up the pills. You want this baby. I know you do."

Lori's lips parted slightly, her expression changing again—with uncertainty and doubt.

"Not like this," she whispered. "Not giving birth in a ditch. Not when its life will hang by a thread from the second it's born. Not when every cry will put it, and Carl and everyone we care about, in danger. That's not right."

Rick swallowed, his throat dry, and he hesitated for a while, thinking about what he could say next.

"Is there anything else I should know about?"

Lori pressed her lips together, but she didn't wait. There was no going back.

"Shane and I..."

The words hit like a punch in the gut, but he wasn't very surprised.

Rick exhaled slowly, staring down at the dirt beneath his boots.

"I know. Of course, I know. You thought I was dead," Rick mumbled, unable to look into her eyes. "The world went to shit, and you thought I was dead. Right?"

"Yeah," Lori nodded as he let out a long breath, the abortion pill package still on the ground between the both of them.

He had nothing left to say.

And Lori didn't say another word after that as well.

She just stood there for a moment, watching Rick, his face unreadable. Then she turned and ducked back into the tent, trying to be as quiet as possible as she crawled inside.

Once back at Carl's side, she was waiting for Rick to join her, but as soon as she realized that he didn't, she was unable to close her eyes. How could she? She lay there, staring at the ceiling of the tent, her mind racing as she cuddled closer to Carl.

She thought about the pills. About Shane. About the baby growing inside her—a baby she wasn't sure she wanted but couldn't bring herself to get rid of. And then she thought about Rick.

Deep down, Lori knew the baby wasn't his.

But the way he'd looked at her when he'd found the pills? The way his voice had cracked when he'd asked, "Is there anything else I should know about?"

She didn't know what to do. Didn't know how to fix this. But one thing was clear: their marriage was hanging by a thread. And Lori? Lori wasn't sure she had the strength to hold on.

Outside the tent, Rick still didn't move. Not even having looked at her once, she turned back and crawled into it. He was still standing there, still trying to piece together what the hell had just happened.

Lori must have thought that was the end of it. That she had said her part, that things would somehow go back to the way they were before. But Rick knew better.

There was no going back. Not after tonight.

His head felt like it was spinning, thoughts crashing into each other, haunting him over and over.

He had betrayed her. She had betrayed him.

And now he was supposed to lie down next to her, close his eyes, and pretend like none of it had happened?

Rick swallowed hard, his throat so dry it hurt, spit almost not able to run down inside it. He let out a slow, shaky breath, rubbing a hand down his face, then through his hair, gripping the curls tight like the pull of it might get his head back into place.

But all he could feel was how his hands remembered you. The way you had felt beneath him, around him. The softness of your skin, the way you had wanted him. Desired him.

His mouth remembered you. His lips, his tongue… The taste of you. The way you had moaned into his kisses, the way your lips had parted so sweetly when he had devoured you like he needed to. The way your moans had vibrated through his cock made him feel pure ecstasy, the kind of euphoria he hadn't felt in years.

Jesus Christ...

Rick clenched his jaw, inhaling deeply, so deeply, but all he smelled was you. That warm, intoxicating scent of sweat, sex, and sin.

His cock twitched, still aching, still wanting to harden, even now.

Again, he ran a hand over his face, his fingers pressing against his eyes and his temples.

What the hell was happening to him?

He had always thought of himself as a good man. A man who did the right thing, even when it was hard. A man who kept his promises, who honored his vows. A man who didn't stray.

But tonight—tonight, he had lost control.

He had kissed you. He had touched you. He had fucked you right against the chicken coop with the sun still shining and the others not that far away, and now—now he had to crawl into a tent with his wife, pretend like none of it had happened, like it wasn't still burning in his veins.

No.

He took another deep breath, but it didn't help. His body was restless, his skin still aching from where your hands had clung to him, your nails digging in, your mouth on his…

His fingers tapped against his thighs, his chest rising and falling too fast from his quick breathing. His whole body was screaming at him to do something, to move, to get away before he lost his goddamn mind.

So he did. Rick pushed himself away, his movements stiff and his muscles tense.

He told himself he was just going for a walk. Just a simple walk. Just to clear his head. But somehow, his feet carried him straight to your tent after having walked around in circles for what seemed almost endless. He barely even realized he was moving toward it until he was standing there, just a few steps away, looking around to see if anyone else from the group had noticed him. So far, it looked safe.

But Rick knew he should leave.

He knew he should.

But he didn't. Of course not. How could he resist? How could he resist and stop those desires that had burned themselves into his mind like a fire he hadn't dared to put out?

So Rick just stood there, breathing hard but still quietly enough to not be heard, his mind a mess, his cock aching, and his body hurting with how much he wanted to be near the source of the heat that had crept up on him, spreading itself throughout his most tempting thoughts.

And then, he slipped inside.

The air was warmer in there from the summer heat, your scent invading his nose instantly. His pulse kicked up, his body moving slow, carefully, as he lowered himself to his knees beside you.

You were curled up on your side, your breathing all soft and steady by now. The blanket barely covered you, the still somewhat sweaty skin of your thighs peeking out.

Rick swallowed, feeling the unmistakable knot in his throat, the one he was sure he could never swallow down, no matter how hard he would try.

What the hell was he doing?

This was wrong.

He should turn around and walk out. Right now. Before it was too late. Before he did something he couldn't take back.

But his hand was already moving.

His fingers hovered over your shoulder, barely touching your skin, but even that tiny touch sent flames straight through his already burning veins. He moved his fingers down slowly, over your arm, down to your thigh, trailing them along the naked skin just above your knee.

God…

How he admired the way your skin reacted to his touch, the goosebumps forming right where his fingers had been only moments before.

"Just… just a taste," he whispered to himself.

Just a little taste of you, and then he'd leave. Leave it behind, this situation—you—wanting to put out the scorching fire burning him alive.

That's what he told himself. But deep down, he already knew it was a lie.

Rick leaned in slowly, his lips stopping just over your skin. He could feel the heat of you, the warmth coming from your body, the quiet rise and fall of your breath.

Then he pressed a kiss to your jaw. Barely a brush of his lips.

Then another. Just below your ear. And then lower—his mouth moving down with slightly trembling lips, still slow, to the side of your throat. He stopped right there, inhaling deeply, drinking you in as he kissed you again, with a little more pressure and deeper this time, just enough to taste.

You still smelled like sin. You still tasted like sin. Pure temptation in its finest form.

Rick's fingers slid higher, moving up your thigh, slow, teasing, his touch light.

But then—you stirred. A soft, sleepy sound slipped from your lips, a little noise, barely more than a quick breath, but it broke him some more.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he swallowed hard, every muscle in his body tensing up as his cock throbbed all over again, hoping you wouldn't wake up now.

But he knew he should wake you up. Tell you this was a mistake. A misunderstanding. That whatever had happened between you—it couldn't happen again. That he couldn't keep doing this, couldn't keep letting himself need you like this.

Still, he didn't wake you. For a long moment, he just watched.

Your body moved ever so slightly, your head tilting, another soft sound slipping from your lips—a sigh—nothing more, but that sound—that unholy sigh?

It was breaking him further apart. Piece by piece.

Rick's fingers instantly grabbed the blanket that covered your body to control himself, he hoped, but he was hanging by a thread already, wanting nothing more than to lift the fabric and crawl next to you, hugging you, keeping you close.

His lips stayed again over your skin, his body still shaking, his hands still wanting to take.

"What the hell are you doin' to me?" He whispered with a voice that sounded wrecked, desperate even. But he stayed like that for a moment longer.

And then, with every bit of strength he had left, he forced himself to move. Rick pushed back, his breath ragged, his hands shaking, his cock still painfully hard, throbbing, and desperate for more.

But he couldn't stay. If he stayed, he wouldn't be able to stop. So he left and slipped back out into the night.

Sleep wasn't an option. Not after this.

Not after you.

Rick started to walk. He circled the tents, paced around as he kicked the dirt, and kept watch. But it didn't help. Nothing could silence his mind. Nothing could rip away the feel of you beneath his hands. Nothing could stop the way his body burned for you.

And he kept walking, his hands still trembling, his mind a mess, his body on fire with restless, useless energy. His eyes were focused on scanning the dark fields, the trees, and the fence. Looking for any sign of danger. Anything to distract him.

But no matter how hard he tried, no matter how long he stood there, his body still remembered. And as the hours dragged on, as the sky began to lighten with the first hints of dawn, Rick knew one thing for certain. He was already too far gone.

The next morning came too fast as well.

Rick felt the sun shining down on him before he even looked up. The exhaustion was felt deep in his bones, a weight that made his legs and arms feel heavy, a headache pounding along with it. He hadn't slept. Not for one single second.

So when he finally forced himself to move, to walk back toward the others, to pretend like he hadn't spent the night drowning in the memory of you, Rick already knew he was failing. He could feel it in the stiffness of his movements, the way his body dragged itself, the way his skin still felt too hot and cold at the same time.

He barely had time to sit down before he felt eyes on him, slowly letting out a quiet cough and pressing the nails of his fingers into his thighs as he prepared himself, already knowing what was coming before he even looked up.

Shane stood there, next to him, his arms crossed, and with that goddamn smirk on his lips, like he was just waiting for Rick to crack.

"Shit, man." His voice was lazy, amused even. It sounded irritating in a way Rick really didn't have the patience for. "You look like you've been up all damn night."

Rick's blood went cold. His breath stopped for just a second before he forced himself to keep it steady, to not react. But it was too late. Shane had already seen it.

Rick knew that he saw how his teeth clenched and how his hands trembled, but he forced himself to let it slide. "Nah, man. I'm just tired. Kept watch all night, just in case. T-Dog and I repaired part of the fence yesterday. Near the chicken—"

He stopped talking in an instant, his eyes widening and his head trying to find a believable answer, even if the part with the fence was the actual truth.

"Part of the fence was loose there, and it isn't fully repaired yet. Gonna ask T again soon. We still need to earn our stay here, and you know it. That's why I kept watch. Just. In. Case."

Rick knew he had no room to speak. Not after what he had done.

Because Shane had fucked Lori, had taken her while Rick was still breathing, while he was still out there fighting to get back to his family. Did both Lori and Shane really think he was dead back then? Or has Shane been after her for longer than he'd ever care to admit? Rick didn't know; he shouldn't dare to think about it. And now here he was, with your touch still haunting him.

He was no better. Maybe he never had been.

Rick let out a deep breath, dragging a hand down his face before turning away. He didn't look at Shane again. He didn't need to. He could still feel the smirk burning into the back of his head and could hear the quiet laugh beneath his breath as Rick walked away.

As soon as everyone else was awake and ready, breakfast had never felt so unbearable. Everyone sat scattered around the camp, eating in silence, but Rick wasn't really there. His body was, sure. He was sitting next to Lori, with Carl beside her, who had a plate of food in his lap and a fork in his hand. But Rick's mind?

Still somewhere else.

His eyes kept looking around, pulling him toward another thing that he couldn't stop pondering about.

Lori.

She sat right next to him, talking to Carl as if everything was normal again. As normal as the new world could be. She hadn't said a word to Rick all morning, hadn't even looked at him, and maybe that was for the best.

Because Rick didn't know what he was supposed to say to her anymore.

And still, there was Shane, wasn't he?

Still smirking, walking around with a frying pan in his hand, and eating straight out of it. Still acting like he had all the power in the world, like he wasn't there knowing exactly what Rick had done, knowing exactly how deep a certain innocence had already sunk its claws into him.

And then—there was you.

You sat on the other side of the camp, your legs crossed beneath you, your hair still a little messy from sleep, a small smile on your lips as you spoke to Andrea. You looked relaxed, unbothered… and innocent.

But Rick knew the truth. He's seen it.

Because the second his eyes landed on you, your head lifted itself, your eyes looking into his like you felt him watching.

Shit. That look. That goddamn look in your eyes.

Like you knew. Like you had been awake last night, had felt his touch, had heard his voice, and had let him kiss you while you pretended to sleep.

His breath hitched in his throat. It hit him all over again—the hunger, the need, that growing addiction that was already eating him alive. This wasn't just want anymore.

But then he heard Shane near him again, who was by now leaning against one of the trees. He laughed quietly to himself. It wasn't loud. Not enough to draw attention from the others. But it was enough to make Rick glance his way.

And there it was again—that look.

But he still didn't say anything. He didn't have to. He just chewed his food, tilted his head ever so slightly, and kept his eyes on Rick like he was reading every thought in his head. Shane knew. And Shane never let any weakness go untested. Certainly not when he looked at a man who he thought was not made for this kind of world.

And you? You sat there, your plate of food long forgotten, barely able to choke it down anyway. Not when you could still feel him.

Rick.

He was sitting across the camp you had set up as a group near the farmhouse of the Greene's, with him looking like he was carrying the whole goddamn world on his shoulders alone. And maybe he was.

But it wasn't just that.

It was the way his eyes kept looking up, landing on Lori, then Shane, and back to you—his gaze burning like he was daring you to say something.

Like he was waiting for you to say something. But you didn't.

Because what were you supposed to say? That you'd actually been fully awake last night? That you had felt his hands on your body, his warm breath against your skin, his mouth whispering sin onto your flesh?

That you had let him?

Even now, with the whole group around, with Lori and Carl next to him and the tension between him and Shane, all you could think about was his hand sliding so softly along your arm, his lips trembling and kissing your jaw, and the way he had whispered, What the hell are you doin' to me?

No. You didn't say a word. But you looked at him.

"Where'd you go?" Lori then asked, pulling him out of his thoughts while caressing his neck with one hand and leaning in close.

Rick barely reacted to her words.

"I'm here."

It wasn't an answer, not really, but it was all she was going to get.

And you knew why. You knew where he had been.

Your body still remembered it. The feeling of his touch on your skin and the warmth of his breath still so hot against your throat. Every time you closed your eyes, you could still feel his lips there, still hear the way his voice had cracked when he whispered to you in the dark, his hands shaking as they moved over your body.

Since then, you haven't slept much either. But there was no time to dwell on it now.

Meanwhile, Glenn moved a little from where he sat, his expression looking uneasy. He glanced toward the farmhouse, his eyes staring at Maggie, who stood on the porch, shaking her head slightly before Glenn looked back to Dale. Dale met his gaze, gave the smallest nod, and then—Glenn exhaled deeply, bracing himself.

"Um, guys. So..." He hesitated like he was trying to find the right words, but there weren't any. "The barn is full of walkers."

Silence.

The whole group made its way to the barn in an instant, gathering in front of it, but you still couldn't help yourself, looking at Rick ever so often. You forced yourself to look away, to pretend you weren't still watching.

This wasn't your problem, was it? Except—it kinda was.

Because now, you were all standing in front of a barn full of walkers.

Shane was the first to break the silence, standing at the front, looking between the wooden slats, his mouth slightly open, before he stepped back as a walker pushed against the doors from the inside.

"You cannot tell me you're all right with this!"

Rick stood next to him, his expression just as tense, but his voice was calm so far.

"No, I'm not," he admitted. "But we're guests here. This isn't our land."

Shane let out a breathy, quick laugh, shaking his head. "God, this is our lives!"

"Lower your voice," Glenn warned, looking around, but Shane barely heard him.

Andrea stepped forward, her arms crossed over her chest at first before resting her hands on her hips. "We can't just sweep this under the rug."

"It ain't right," Shane shot back. "Not remotely. Okay… we've either got to go in there, we've got to make things right, or we've just got to go. Now, we have been talking about Fort Benning for a long time—"

"We can't go," Rick interrupted him immediately.

"Why, Rick? Why?" Shane turned to him, unable to understand.

Before Rick could answer, Carol spoke up, her voice quiet, standing a bit in the background before she walked over to Rick.

"Because my daughter is still out there."

The words hit hard. Everyone fell silent for a moment.

Then, Shane let out another humorless laugh, running his hands over his face, as if he couldn't believe all of this.

"Okay," he said, his voice just a little lighter now. "Okay, I think it's time that we all start to just consider the other possibility."

"We're not leaving Sophia behind," Rick continued, until Daryl stepped forward, too.

"I'm close to findin' this girl. I jus' found her damn doll two days ago!"

Shane turned to him, his face unreadable at first—but just by looking at Daryl Dixon, one could see how annoyed he was by him.

"You found her doll, Daryl," Shane said, gesturing around. "That's what you did. You found a doll!"

Daryl's expression darkened, his fingers twitching at his side.

"Ya don't know what the hell yer talkin' 'bout," he snapped back at him, waving an arm dismissively.

"I'm just saying what needs to be said," Shane argued further, his voice rising in anger. "You get a good lead; it's in the first 48 hours!"

"Shane, stop," Rick warned, trying to get both men to back off.

But Shane wasn't done.

He turned back to Daryl, stepping closer. "Let me tell you something else, man," he continued, "If she was alive out there and saw you coming all methed out with your buck knife and geek ears around your neck, she would run in the other direction!"

The moment the words left his mouth, you knew it was a mistake. Daryl moved fast.

"Shut yer mouth!" He growled, lunging toward Shane, his fists clenched, and his whole body tense like he was about to throw a punch.

"Don't come at me, man!" The other man warned in response, but Rick was quite fast to hold him back before he could jump at the younger Dixon brother.

"Now just let me talk to Hershel," Rick then cut in, his voice loud but steady, demanding attention. "Let me figure it out."

Shane just scoffed. "What are you gonna figure out?"

But that made Rick not back down.

"If we're gonna stay," he continued, trying to calm him down, "if we're gonna clear this barn, I have to talk him into it. This is his land."

"Hershel sees those things in there as people... sick people... his wife, his stepson," Dale spoke up, taking a few steps forward as well.

Rick turned to face him as soon as those words left his mouth. "You knew?"

Dale hesitated, then nodded. "Yesterday I talked to Hershel."

Shane let out a bitter laugh. "And you waited the night?"

"I thought we could survive one more night," Dale explained further. "We did. I was waiting till this morning to say something. But Glenn wanted to be the one."

Shane shook his head, stepping away, pacing slightly, his movements tense.

"The man is crazy, Rick," he said, his voice full of frustration. "If Hershel thinks those things are alive or not—"

"Then it is not up to us," you suddenly cut in, your heart pounding from the whole situation and everything that was happening along with it.

The second the words left your mouth, every pair of eyes snapped to you.

Shane's jaw clenched tightly as if he was grinding his teeth. "You gotta be fuckin' kidding me."

"I'm not saying I like it. I'm not saying I agree with it. But this is not our damn land, Shane. We are guests here. You think we can just do whatever the fuck we want just because this isn't the world we once knew anymore?"

"We are talking about a barn full of walkers. A whole damn ticking time bomb!"

"And we will handle it," you shot back, shutting him up. "But we do it the right way. Not like some goddamn animals! Or do you really wanna go and take over the whole damn farm by yourself, Shane? That would put all of us in danger."

Silence... Again.

Then, Rick inhaled slowly, smiling to himself a little, looking at you for just a second too long before he turned back to Shane. "She's right. And you know that."

"Look, I understand, okay? It doesn't matter what Hershel thinks," you continued, your voice strong, really drawing attention to yourself for the very first time.

Everyone else still looked at you, but you didn't care.

"What matters is that we're on his land," you continued, your eyes looking from Rick to Shane. "And if we start acting like we own the place, if we just take what we want, we're no better than the damn walkers in that barn. That'd be the Greene's death sentence, and I won't let that happen just because you don't know shit about respect!"

Shane laughed loudly, rolling his eyes. "So what, little girl? We just sit here and let ‘em get us killed instead?"

"No," you shot back, still not backing down and ignoring what he'd just called you. "But we don't get to make that decision without Hershel. Let Rick handle it. Let him talk. That's all we're asking for, Shane."

Rick was still watching you, like he was seeing you in a different light, like something about your words had done something inside of him. Shane, on the other hand, just shook his head, letting out another annoyed laugh.

But for now, at least, he let it drop. And you knew—it was only a matter of time before everything exploded. But you also knew… you should've left.

Everyone else was already walking away from the barn—some of the group going back toward the tents, others disappearing toward the house.

You should've followed them. Should've gone anywhere but here. But you hesitated. You didn't know why, but you stayed. And that was your mistake. Because now, you were alone with him. With Shane.

He stayed near the doors of the barn, arms crossed over his chest, eyes dark, and expression unreadable. Like he had all the time in the world.

You were about to turn, about to take one step in the opposite direction…

"Y'know," Shane stopped you, his voice low and teasing. "I didn't think he had it in him."

Your stomach dropped. Slowly, you turned back to face him, already feeling the blood start to boil in your veins. "The hell did you just say?"

"C'mon little girl, you heard me. Stop pretending," Shane smirked.

That lazy, shit-eating smirk.

You clenched your jaw, refusing to react, refusing to give him anything. "You know what? Go to hell, Shane."

"Already there, baby." He answered with a laugh, shaking his head, stepping forward just enough to close the space between you.

Not touching you. But close enough.

Close enough that you could see the way his eyes looked you up and down, stopping at the hem of another one of the sundresses that Maggie had given you the day before, that smirk still on his face.

"You got some damn nerve," you mumbled, but he simply snorted.

"Oh yeah? And you don't?" He tilted his head slightly, his eyes looking back up to meet yours. "What was it, huh? Quick little roll in the hay? That why he was lookin' all fucked out this mornin'?"

Your breath hitched. It was so damn tempting to just punch him. Right on that goddamn nose. But instead, you smiled. Nice and sweet.

And then you swung. Not your fist—only your words.

"You would know all about quick fucks, wouldn't you, Shane?" You leaned in, keeping your voice just quiet enough. "Or did Lori at least let you finish inside of her before she ran back to her husband?"

That slapped the smirk right off his face. But you weren't done.

"Bet you told her Rick was dead, huh?" You continued, watching the way his fists clenched at his sides, his shoulders going rigid. "Bet you've had your eyes on her long before the world has gone to shit. For how long? Months? Maybe even years?"

One second, you were standing there, triumphant to have won, having shoved it right back in his face, but then his hand was gripping your jaw.

Hard.

Not enough to hurt. But enough to make you gasp in shock. Enough to make your heart pound faster and faster.

Your hands moved up instantly, grabbing at his wrist, but he just held you there, his fingers pressing against your skin, his face being so close that you could feel the heat of his breath against your cheek.

"Watch your fuckin' mouth..."

Swallowing loudly in return, you knew you should've been scared. But you weren't.

Because you noticed it—the way his grip trembled just slightly, the way his breathing was just a little too heavy, the way his eyes looked down to your lips for half a second before looking back up.

So, you just smiled again. Like it was the easiest thing in the world.

"You really wanna play this game with me, Walsh?" You whispered.

Shane's grip tightened for a moment before he suddenly let go, stepping back and laughing to himself.

"You know what? Yeah, I did fuckin' finish," he responded, clapping his hands together several times in front of your face to mock you. "So what?"

But you stood your ground, your chin held up high, heart still racing, yet refusing to let him see it.

Refusing to let him win.

"Are you done?" You then asked flatly, but Shane shook his head, still smirking.

"Nah, little girl, I ain't done."

Neither of you moved. Neither of you walked away. You just stood there, with Shane still looking at you. Of course, with that same damn smirk. That same smirk, like he had you, like he knew exactly what to do to annoy you, and exactly what to say. That same smirk, as he couldn't have any other facial expression to use around you anymore.

He huffed loudly, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek, trying not to burst into laughter. "Y'know," he started again, his voice as casual as ever. "If you wanted it rough and a lil' older, you shoulda just said somethin!"

He then grinned as he saw how red your face was getting, which only gave him more fuel to continue. "Bet Rick ain't got it in him, huh? 'Cause he ain't made for this world. Bet he—"

"Shut the fuck up, Shane."

But he was still enjoying this. And that was what pissed you off the most. You forced yourself to take a step back, heart pounding, your jaw so clenched, it felt like it was going to dislocate itself any second right now.

"Go fuck yourself," you grumbled, voice shaking just slightly. Maybe because you were angry, or, deep down, you liked this.

Not him. Not Shane.

But the fight. The way it made your blood pump faster, the way it boiled so fast in your veins.

Or maybe it was the way he wasn't done, either.

"You gonna stand there all day, little girl?"

That stare-off between you felt like it went on for hours even though you knew it was only a few seconds.

"You tell me, Walsh. You seem really happy just standing here, keeping your damn eyes on me rather than the damn barn behind you."

And with that, you turned and walked away toward the farmhouse. You told yourself the way you had reacted was anger—that it was just the heat of the moment. But deep down, you knew it was more than that. Shane had gotten under your skin. And not just because of his smirk or his stupid jokes. No, it was the way he looked at you—like he knew exactly what buttons to push and as if he could see right through you.

It pissed you off. But it also excited you in a way.

Shaking your head, you tried to clear your thoughts. This wasn't the time to get distracted. Not with the barn full of walkers. Not with the search for Sophia and all the other problems the group had. Still, you couldn't help but wonder—what would happen if you pushed him a little further? And what would happen if you let Shane push a little further?

By the time you made it back toward camp, things had calmed—at least, on the outside. Everyone was moving around, busying themselves with whatever tasks they could find, trying not to think about the fact that everything felt like it was actually starting to fall apart.

You spotted Rick up by the house, standing at the porch steps, his hands on his hips before he climbed them, and then knocking on the door.

From where you stood, you could hear Hershel's muffled response from inside the house.

"Come on in."

Rick stepped inside. And you just… watched.

Watched as the door went shut behind him. Watched as Maggie moved past the door and inside as well, stopping only for a second to look over at Glenn before shaking her head and continuing. Watched as the camp kept moving, kept breathing, and kept pretending like they weren't all terrified about what had to happen eventually.

And still, all you could think about was the way Shane had looked at you and what he'd said. Even now.

Inside the farmhouse, Hershel sat at the table, the Holy Bible open in front of him, barely looking up as Rick stepped in.

"A little light reading for lunch?" Rick asked, stopping right next to him.

Hershel turned a page, not looking up to acknowledge Rick with his eyes. "Been working so hard lately I get my studying where I can."

"You know we can help you out with your work."

Hershel shook his head. "It's my field to tend."

Rick looked around the house slowly, thinking about what to say, while his hands still rested on his hips.

"We found the barn," he said next, just waiting for Hershel to respond in anger.

But Hershel barely blinked. "Leave it be."

Rick's jaw tightened. "Well, I'd like to talk about it, but either way… your barn, your farm, your say."

The man finally looked at him, using a napkin to wipe his mouth. Completely unbothered.

"I don't want to talk about the barn. I don't want to debate."

Rick held his stare. "Not a debate. A discussion."

After a moment of silence, Hershel closed the Bible, standing up with the empty plate and the silverware. "I need you and your group gone by the end of the week."

Rick didn't react. Not at first.

Didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't breathe.

Then, quickly, he followed him into the kitchen of the house.

He stood behind Hershel, who was putting the plate and silverware into the sink, only to look out of the window, hoping he would just leave and let him be.

"I talked to Dale," Rick continued. "You and I have our differences with the way we look at the walkers. Those people, they may be dead; they may be alive. But my people—us—we are alive right now. Right here. Right in front of you."

Hershel didn't say anything, still looking out of the window and not once having turned around. But Rick pressed on.

"You send us out there, and that could change."

Still not turning around, Hershel let out a huff through his nose, like he was done with the conversation. "I've given you safe harbor. My conscience is clear."

"This farm…" Rick started again, shaking his head slightly. "This farm is special. You've been shielded from what's been going on out there," he continued, taking a step closer. "Dale said you saw everything happen on the news. Well, it's been…" He let out a dry, humorless breath. "It's been a long time since the cameras stopped rolling."

But Hershel's back stayed turned away from him.

"The first time I saw a walker, it was just half a body snapping at me from the ground," Rick explained to him. "My inclination wasn't to kill it. But what the world is out there isn't what you saw on TV. It is much, much worse. And it changes you. Either into one of them or something a lot less than the person you were."

Finally, Hershel turned around.

"Please," Rick said further. "Do not… Do not send us out there again."

Silence.

Hershel still didn't answer him; he looked him up and down.

Rick shook his head, his eyes looking down at the floor before shaking his head again and turning toward the door, dragging a hand down his face.

Then, he stopped. And said the only thing left he had to say.

"My wife's pregnant."

Hershel blinked, but Rick barely gave him time to react.

"That's either a gift here or a death sentence out there," he continued. "If we were to stay, we could help you with the work. With securing this place. We can survive together."

But Hershel was turning away from him again. "Rick, I'm telling you, we can't."

"You think about what you're doing," Rick answered in return, his voice rising ever so slightly, which made Hershel respond faster than before to finally get his point across and into the man's head.

"I've thought about it."

"Think about it."

"I've thought about it."

And Rick didn't argue any further.

He just opened the front door, stepped outside, and said, "Think about it again. We can't go out there."

Then, he closed the door behind him, his mind racing. Hershel's words were a mess in his head, but they were again pushed away by the memory of you once he saw you. He clenched his fists, trying to shake it off, but it was no use.

Rick looked across the camp, his eyes landing on you again. You were standing near the tents, your arms crossed, your expression unreadable. Taking a step forward, he stopped.

What was he supposed to do? March over there as if nothing has ever happened?

No. That wasn't him.

Rick forced himself to look away, to focus on the task at hand. But even as he walked back toward the group, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was losing control. And the worst part? He wasn't sure he even cared anymore.

And you saw it from a distance as you watched him—the way his shoulders tensed, the way his hands curled into fists before forcing himself to relax.

The way Rick looked like he was holding himself together with nothing but willpower. And all you could do was watch as you saw him coming down the porch steps. He didn't even look in your direction anymore and kept walking.

And still—still, you moved toward him.

"Hey, Rick—"

Nothing. Not even one single word. He just kept going, walking past you like you weren't even there.

Fine. Fuck him.

You turned, watching as he made his way toward the barn. Rick stopped just short of Shane, exhaling hard, making Shane look at him in return.

"What's it gonna be, man? Which way does this thing go?"

Rick dragged a hand down his face before answering. "I don't know yet."

Shane's head tilted. Just slightly. "Well, what did he say?"

"We're negotiating."

The other man's laugh was humorless, bitter. "You're nego—clock's ticking, Rick."

"No, it isn't, Shane." Rick's voice was annoyed. "That barn… The barn is secure. We didn't even know about it till this morning. We didn't."

Shane's eyes looked fast toward the barn, then back to him.

"Well, we know about it now. Right? We know there's over a dozen walkers in there. We know that it's about a stone's throw from our camp, Rick… Where we sleep."

Rick's fingers twitched at his sides.

"So look," Shane pressed on, "if we're not gonna go in there and clear it out, then we just got to go."

"We're not gonna clear it out, and we're not gonna go."

"We at least need our guns," Shane argued back, but Rick wasn't about to let it slide.

"We can't have them. Not here."

Shane stared at him, his mouth slightly open, before he leaned back more comfortably against the small, red tractor. "Why do you wanna stay here when it's not safe?"

"We can make it safe."

"How we gonna do that?"

"We will, okay?"

"How we gonna make it safe, Rick?" His voice had an angrier tone now, that barely hidden hate starting to boil up, pushing him further.

"We will, okay?"

"No, man, it's not okay."

Rick took a deep breath, already turning away from him before he finally said it.

"Shane, Lori's pregnant. We need to stay."

Silence. Shane blinked, his mouth falling open in shock, unable to know how to answer that. "We... need our guns," he then said, trying to process the information he had just thrown into his face, but Rick shook his head once more.

"No. I can work this out." Rick turned to leave again. He was done with this conversation. "You good?"

Shane didn't answer right away, rolling his shoulders back, which tensed up to the point of being uncomfortable.

"Yeah…" His voice was quieter now. "Lori's having a baby, man… Congratulations."

"Thank you," Rick nodded, and that should have been it. He should have kept walking. He should have left.

But Shane? Shane wasn't done.

"Hold up, Rick."

Rick stopped. But he didn't turn around. Not at first. And that made Shane take a slow step forward. And then another.

"You know," Shane started, "I was just wonderin' somethin'. Somethin' been on my mind since last night."

Slowly, very slowly, Rick turned to face him. His expression was blank. But his eyes? His eyes were burning.

"Tell me somethin'." Shane continued, now in an almost amused voice. "That little thing you and I got in common now? That happen before or after you went crawlin' back to Lori?"

Rick's expression didn't change, and Shane tilted his head, pretending to be curious.

"How'd it go, huh?" He took another step closer. "You go all slow and sweet, or was it fast? Rough?"

Rick's jaw was so tight it looked like his teeth might break if he ground them any harder.

Shane's smirk widened. "Bet it was rough." His voice sounded mocking now. "Bet she was greedy for it. All soft and pretty, makin' those cute little, desperate, needy noises—"

Rick moved. Fast. He grabbed Shane by the front of his shirt, shoving him hard, slamming him back against the red tractor so violently that it slightly moved.

"You ain't got no room to talk anymore, do you, Rick?"

He didn't answer and just stared at him. And the way they looked at each other—it was dangerous. It was personal. It wasn't just about Lori. It wasn't just about the walkers in the barn. It wasn't just about the farm. This? This was about them both.

"Wonder how much longer you're gonna play pretend, huh? I mean, c'mon, man! You really think you can just walk away after what you did?"

That line they were both standing on? They knew one of them was about to cross it eventually.

"You wanna say somethin' else to me, Shane?"

Shane took another step closer. "Oh, you know what I know. Knowing what you did."

Rick's jaw twitched, and Shane tilted his head.

"Behind the chicken coop, huh?" He laughed, smirking. "She loud? You had to keep her mouth shut?"

Shane didn't even flinch. He now just grinned like he'd won until Rick calmed himself down and let go of him again.

"Bet she moaned real lovely for you, huh? Like honey and all excited, so damn wet and just beggin'—"

Unable to look at him anymore, Rick shoved him to the side and away from him. Shane stumbled sideways, laughing breathlessly and shaking his head.

"Oh! That's rich, man! You wanna throw hands with me about it?" He laughed out loud. "You wanna look me in the fuckin' eyes and act like you got the right to be pissed? You fucked that lil' girl. You fucked her, Rick. Behind your wife's back. So tell me—what's that make you?"

Shane leaned in, but not too close, just in case Rick was about to snap again. "You ain't no better than me, brother."

Rick's head snapped back toward him, and for a second—just one second—Shane thought he was gonna swing. Thought he was actually gonna throw that punch, knock him down to the dirt, and finally give in to what had been happening between them for some time now.

But instead, Rick straightened himself and stepped back. "I ain't you."

"Keep tellin' yourself that, man," Shane answered in an instant, running a hand over his head.

Rick didn't say another word. He turned and walked away.

He stopped once he was far away enough from the man he'd once called his best friend since he was young, dragging both hands down his face before gripping the back of his neck, trying to breathe through the anger raging inside him. His pulse was hammering against his skull, and he knew—he knew—if he didn't get a hold of himself, he was gonna break something.

Or someone.

His teeth ground together as his eyes looked toward the chicken coop in the distance. It was like his body was drawn to it, to you, to the memory of last night. But now, he felt sick. He felt starved. He felt like if he let himself go back to that place, back to you…

No.

Closing his eyes, Rick inhaled deeply and forced himself to look away.

More important things needed to be done.

So he walked back toward the tents, his face unreadable, and that was when he spotted the map. Something he could focus on.

This was what mattered. The search for Sophia.

Once you saw Rick walking back toward the tents where you were still standing around while everyone else had occupied themselves, you knew you should've let him go.

You knew that. You should've just turned around, walked off, and focused on anything—anyone else—you should've let him stomp away like he always did when his head was too full of problems he couldn't solve when he got so lost in himself that it was like nothing and no one else existed around him. You should've let him deal with whatever war was happening in his mind on his own; let him pretend like what happened between you both behind the chicken coop was just some stupid mistake, some meaningless situation he could shove aside, bury deep, and move on from.

But how could you?

No, you stayed where you were, near the cars with a bitter taste in your mouth as you watched him stand at the hood of one of the cars, looking down at the map spread across it, his hands braced against the vehicle, his body tense like he was forcing himself to stay still, to stay focused.

His head was looking down, his eyes narrowed in deep concentration as he traced his fingers over the roads and backwoods trails, already moving forward with his thoughts, already figuring out the next step, already trying to keep his brain focused on something else, and not the argument with Shane, the conversation with Hershel, or the situation with Lori—like none of it had happened. As if he was fine and hadn't completely fallen apart last night and done something he couldn't take back.

No, Rick had to think of something different, something important, like searching for Carol's daughter.

Andrea stood beside him, arms crossed over her chest as she looked at the map along with him, her body leaning slightly toward his, listening as he spoke in that calm and concentrated way of his when he was keeping himself together by sheer force of will, like if he let go of that control for even a second, he might not be able to pull himself back together again.

"...also shows she could be moving this way south. If Sophia kept in that direction, she might have gotten out of the forest and into the farmland. So we take 74 up to Ivy Road, then push down south on foot through the forest till we hit Christopher, go east a couple of miles, and then double back."

You took a slow step forward, hesitant, unsure if it was even the right move, unsure why you were doing it, but unable to stop yourself all the same.

And Rick went completely still once he noticed you. His fingers stopped where they rested against the map, his breathing turning a little faster, and his shoulders went a little stiffer—just for a moment. Then, just as quickly, he forced himself to concentrate again, to act as if he hadn't noticed, as if you weren't standing there, as if he wasn't aware of you, just a few steps away.

Like you weren't even there.

Frustration overcame you.

It wasn't the time. It wasn't the place. You knew that. But you also knew you had to talk, especially regarding Shane.

"Rick, I—"

Nothing.

Andrea moved beside him, looking toward you, one eyebrow arching slightly like she wasn't sure if she should say something. If she should step in and if she should tell Rick you wanted to talk to him, but he didn't even acknowledge her either. He just kept talking, kept staring at the map, kept pretending like you didn't exist, like he couldn't hear your voice, and like he couldn't feel you watching him.

You clenched your fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms, resisting the urge to grab him, to shake him, to force him to see you.

Before you stepped away, a voice stopped you.

"Rick."

Hershel.

Rick turned around immediately, looking toward the older man.

"Hershel," he greeted, nodding once, like he was relieved for the excuse to pull away, for the reason to leave, to walk away from you without actually walking away from you. "We just have our guns out because we're gonna go look for Sophia."

Hershel barely even looked at the map. "Before you do that, I could use your help with something."

Andrea put a hand on her hip beside Rick, stepping forward. "Count me in."

But Hershel shook his head. "Thank you, but I just need Rick."

And just like that, Rick went with him after Jimmy had joined them. No hesitation. No second thought. He folded up the map, put it away, and walked off after them like he couldn't get away fast enough. Like he hadn't just spent the last several minutes pretending you didn't exist and like he hadn't just made you feel so unimportant that you wanted to scream.

And you should've let him go. You should've just let him disappear behind the trees, let him keep pretending, let him run.

But you didn't. Because something inside of you wouldn't let you. So you followed them.

Kept low. Kept your steps light. Kept your hand around your knife, just in case.

And you knew you weren't supposed to be out here. Not without telling at least one person from the group about it. You remembered it the second you started following them, the second your feet left the safety of the farm, slipping past the trees, staying quiet. You didn't have a plan. Didn't even have a good reason, just in case someone would search for you and you'd have to come up with an excuse.

But after everything—after last night, after this morning, after the way Rick had avoided you like you didn't even exist—you weren't about to sit around the camp doing nothing.

So you followed and kept your distance, moving slowly but carefully.

Once at the swamp, the first thing you noticed was that it smelled like rot.

You could hear insects buzzing somewhere nearby, the sound of water, and the rustling of birds chirping in the trees above, but none of it was enough to drown out the sound of them.

The growls.

The snapping of teeth.

The noises of the dead.

Hershel, Rick, and Jimmy had stopped near the edge of the muddy water, just a few feet away from where two walkers stood stuck in the sludge, their bodies sinking slowly, arms reaching, fingers clawing uselessly at the air.

"The silt on the bottom is like glue," Hershel explained. "You just sink in."

Rick followed him quietly.

"That's Lou Bush," Hershel continued, nodding toward one of them.

"You knew him?"

Hershel sighed. "Lou as in Louise. She has a farm up the road. Sweet corn mostly. Worked at Hapman's bar on weekends." He nodded toward the other walker, the one in coveralls. "The man, I don't know him, but the uniform… I've been to where he worked."

Rick was silent for a long moment, staring at them, his face unreadable.

"How many have you killed?" Hershel then asked.

Rick exhaled slowly, his fingers twitching slightly on instinct as if wanting to reach for his Colt Python. "Too many to count."

"Can you stop?" Hershel asked, and Rick's eyes narrowed slightly.

"There are people out there who haven't been in their right minds," Hershel continued, not letting him answer. "People who I believe can be restored."

"You're not talking about the walkers, are you?"

Hershel didn't answer. Didn't need to. Rick knew he thought the dead were just sick people. People you could still help find their way back among the living.

Rick turned just slightly, making sure no other danger was close—and suddenly looked directly at where you were hiding.

Shit…

For a moment—one quick and uncomfortable moment—you thought he'd actually seen you.

The way his shoulders stiffened, the way his head turned ever so slightly, and the way his eyes looked toward the tree line where you were crouched low in the shadows, barely breathing and barely even blinking, made you gasp.

It was instinct, pure instinct, the way you tensed, the way your fingers grabbed the handle of your knife even tighter, ready to run if you had to, ready to fight if it came to that, even though you knew there was no real reason for it. Rick might've been pissed as hell at you; you didn't really know for sure—might've spent the entire day so far acting like you didn't exist, like what happened last night was some shameful, disgusting little secret where he'd rather set himself on fire than acknowledge it—but he wouldn't hurt you.

"Rick..."

Just like that, his attention went right back to Hershel, like he hadn't just gone stiff, as if he hadn't just been looking directly at the spot you were crouched in, and like he hadn't just felt something in that quick, passing moment.

Taking your chance, you moved.

Not fast. Not loud. Not stupid.

Just carefully walking backward, deeper into the woods, deeper into the shadows, further away, and far enough that you could still hear them, could still make out their silhouettes through the gaps in the branches, but not close enough that Rick could feel your presence anymore.

Or maybe he never had.

Maybe it had just been your own paranoia. Your own guilt.

But it didn't matter now, because you stayed and you still watched. Listened.

Jimmy stepped forward, adjusting his grip on the catch pole in his hands, the kind with a noose at the end, the kind they used to get strays under control back in the old world.

"Otis said if you get them halfway out, they'll do the rest of the work," Jimmy said hesitantly, his voice nervous and uncertain.

"How many times did he do this?" Rick asked as he remembered Otis, who had died not that long ago when he was out on a run with Shane to get some of the medical equipment Hershel needed to save Carl after he'd been accidentally shot by him.

Meanwhile, Hershel let out a sigh as he looked toward the two walkers still stuck in the mud, their arms still reaching and their teeth still snapping. "If one wandered onto the property, Otis would get them into the barn. Now we have to."

Rick kept staring at them, his jaw clenched. "And what happens when the barn gets full?"

He took one step toward the edge of the water before his boots slipped, the mud sucking him down, yanking him straight off balance, and making his body hit the ground.

"Jeez!" He cursed, struggling to get a solid hold, his boots sliding off grip as he tried to push himself up. "Get the pole! Jimmy... Jimmy!"

But Hershel's voice remained calm, infuriatingly so. "You got it. Easy. Easy, Rick. Lead him. Jimmy will spot for us."

Rick's breath was ragged, with him grumbling around frustrated as he yanked the pole forward, trying to keep it looped around the walker's throat while still fighting against the mud beneath him. "This is easy?!"

Hershel still didn't care much, seeing no danger. "Lead him, lead him, Rick. You're the carrot, not the stick. You heard me, just lead him. He'll come to you."

"You told me he handled them easily!"

Once Rick stumbled behind them, Hershel took the lead and walked forward. "It's easier than some things."

"Come on! Come on, over here!" Jimmy said in the background when suddenly, a sound was to be heard.

A scream.

Not just any scream. Your scream.

Rick's entire body froze, and the pole slipped from his hands before Jimmy quickly took it into his own, staring at him in confusion.

But Rick wasn't there anymore. Wasn't thinking. Wasn't waiting.

"Rick!" Hershel's voice was alarmed, but Rick was already gone, already stumbling away from the mud, running through the trees, rushing toward the sound, toward the scream.

"Wait here or go back to the farm!" He yelled back over his shoulder, but he wasn't listening to their answers, wasn't thinking about them, wasn't thinking about anything other than getting to you.

Because he knew that sound. Knew it all too well and knew what it meant.

The walker came down on you so fast you didn't even have a second to think, to move, to do anything other than hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the wind straight out of your lungs, your back slamming into the dirt, and your knife slipping from your fingers, just out of reach.

Its weight was pressing down on you heavily, the smell of rot, blood, and death suffocating your senses, its jaws wide open, teeth snapping only inches from your face, its fingers trying to tear into your flesh, and trying to sink its teeth into any part of your body it was able to reach.

You struggled. A lot.

Your hands shoved against its chest, your muscles burning from the adrenaline, your legs thrashing beneath it, trying to slip away from under its weight, trying to grab for something, for anything, for your knife, but the walker was too heavy. It was too strong, and no matter how hard you fought, it wouldn't move. It wouldn't stop, and it wouldn't let go.

Then—a disgusting, wet noise.

But there was no gunshot.

Because Rick didn't use his Colt Python.

No. He had a rock.

It was in his hand as he pulled the walker away from you, covered in blood, pieces of skull, and rotted flesh smeared against it, his breath coming out in fury as he stared down at what had almost—almost—taken you from him.

Rick's fingers ached. His entire arm trembled from the force he had used, but he didn't stop after the first hit.

He just kept swinging.

"Stupid—"

Crack. The first hit crushed its temple.

"Motherfuckin'—"

Crack. The second cracked its skull open.

"Piece of—"

Crack. The third caved its shattered face in, leaving nothing but bone and blood splattered across the dirt.

"Shit!"

It wasn't moving anymore. It wasn't even recognizable.

But Rick was still hovering over it, his fingers gripping the rock so tightly his knuckles had turned white, his entire body trembling, and breathing so hard it sounded like a long, endless growl.

You had never seen him like this before.

Not even when he was mad at Shane. Not even when the group was in chaos. Not even last night, when he had slipped into your tent and put his hands on you like a man who had already lost his mind.

But now? Now, he looked feral.

And when his eyes finally looked back up to meet yours—when you saw the way they burned, wild and pissed—you weren't sure if it was from anger or from something else entirely.

Something that made you forget how to breathe.

Before you could say something, before you could think, and before you could even process what just happened, Rick was pushing the dead body away, grabbing you, and yanking you up with so much force it almost hurt, his fingers digging in, dragging you to your feet, and pushing you back until your back hit a tree.

He was right there, towering over you, his eyes full of anger and his face full of rage, his chest rising and falling with every deep and furious breath.

Rick was enraged.

And you?

You still didn't even know what to do.

"You stupid—" Rick started, his voice nothing more than a snarl.

He was so close you could barely react, his fingers digging into your arms, holding you there, pinning you back against the bark of the tree as his eyes burned through you like he wanted to set you on fire.

"You outta your goddamn mind, sneakin' out here like that?!" He asked with his grip tightening, his whole body trembling with all that anger, all that frustration. "You got any idea what coulda happened to you? Any idea?"

You pushed against his hold, trying to shove him off, trying to create even an inch of space between you, but he was unmovable, too strong, every inch of him tense, like if he let go, if he even so much as relaxed for a second, he might do something reckless.

Something he couldn't take back.

"You don't get to be mad at me, Rick!" You shot back, your own frustration boiling over like two storms colliding. "Not when you—"

"The hell I don't!" He cut you off, his voice like thunder, as if he was close to losing his mind once more. "What were you even thinking, huh? Following me… us, out here?"

"You think I don't know what the hell I'm doing?" You shoved at his chest again, harder this time, pushing back, fighting back, your heart hammering against your ribs, adrenaline still surging through your veins from the walker attack, from the fear, from the fact that Rick was right here, all over you. "You don't get to act like you care about what happens to me when you can't even look at me, Rick!"

His breathing stopped, letting you feel the way his fingers tightened around your arms, and the way his whole body was so full of adrenaline as if he was trying hard to hold onto whatever bit of restraint he still had left.

"Are you outta your goddamn mind?" He asked again, but not expecting any answer.

You knew there'd be bruises later on your arms—not that you cared, not that you even felt it over everything else.

You weren't scared, but also not backing down.

"And what about you?" You shot back, your voice shaking from the situation alone, your chest rising and falling just as hard and fast as his, with your heart pounding against your ribs. But you were still trying to finally put the much-needed space between you, knowing full well he wasn't about to let you. "Because last time I checked, I wasn't the one creeping into somebody's tent in the middle of the goddamn night!"

Rick went still. Too still.

His breath hitched, and his fingers twitched against your skin. But he said nothing. He didn't deny it, and he didn't even blink. He just stood there, with his eyes staring deeply into yours.

That silence?

That silence made you want to scream, and before you could even think about stopping yourself, before you could even process what you were doing, the words were already tearing themselves freefrom your mouth.

"I know it was you," you spat at him, your breath coming out fast and heavy, your entire body shaking. "I felt you. I heard you. You were right there—right fucking there."

His grip turned tighter, making you wince in response.

"Shut up."

"You kissed me," you went on, still not looking away from his eyes. "You put your hands on me—"

"I said, shut the fuck up—"

"And now?" You continued, stuttering a little bit. "Now you wanna stand here and act like I'm the crazy one? Like I'm the problem? Like I didn't just see you standing next to Shane, looking like you were about to rip his goddamn throat out because he knows—"

And you saw it. That slight movement, that quick twitch in Rick's jaw as if he was about to smirk. That was the confirmation.

"You know Shane knows, don't you?" You asked him, your eyes narrowing and your voice dropping lower. "You know he knows that you fucked me."

"Don't."

That one word was a warning, but you couldn't care less.

"You think I don't see it? The way he won't stop smirking like he's just waiting for one of us to say something? And do you really think I don't know that he talked to you as well?"

Rick's hands moved away from your arms only to shove both hands into your hair on the back of your head, with his fingers digging in roughly, trying to hold something back and trying to keep control.

"Enough."

Rick's voice was different now.

Darker.

"You think I don't know? You think I don't know he knows? He told me. Yeah. He told me—"

And then—it broke. All of it. The rage. The frustration. It all broke in that simple moment.

Because one second, you were just there, daring him to do something, to act on anything, to move.

And then Rick's lips finally pushed full force against yours, hard, brutal, and all-consuming. He was swallowing up every one of your ragged breaths, every sound, and every bit of fight left in you like he was trying to erase it, trying to shut you up the only way he knew how.

His hands went away from your hair and the back of your head, his fingers grabbing, gripping, and dragging you in, pulling you against him as close as he could, and pressing his body down on yours like he needed to feel you, needing to make sure you were real, to make sure you were alive, and to make sure you were his.

You kissed him back like you were drowning, like you needed him just as bad, and like you wanted to tear him apart with your teeth, as if wanting to suffocate him with your tongue, all the while your hands clawed at his shirt, at his back, yanking him closer.

You barely even noticed him moving you away from the dead body before your back hit the ground a few trees away, the dirt and leaves pressing against your back, with Rick right there, covering you, pushing himself onto you, his hands already gripping at your thighs, spreading them wide and sliding beneath the hem of your dress.

"Fuck—" You gasped against his mouth, barely getting the word out before he devoured it, before his lips moved over yours again, before his hand gripped your jaw, fingers digging in like he wanted to keep you right there, right under him, right where he needed you to be, no matter the place.

Rick's breathing was fast, still furious, his body pressing against yours, one of his knees pushing up between your thighs to keep them spread, and the outline of his cock already throbbing against your thigh, being so hard it was painful.

God, you felt it…

Felt the way his hands touched, the way his mouth claimed, the way he devoured every inch of you he could reach, all heat and desperation, all frustration and need, like he was trying to consume you whole.

"This what you wanted, sweetheart?" His voice was a growl, all breathless and raw, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath ever so warm against your lips, and his hips already grinding against yours, already so far gone it was making you ache. "This what you were askin' for last night, after all. And you liked it… You, walkin' around naked in that little fuckin' dress, makin' me lose my goddamn mind—"

"Fuck you—"

"You already did."

And then his mouth was on you again, teeth moving roughly against your throat, fingers hiking your dress up and shoving it past your hips, his breath trembling as he was about to take you, as he finally—finally—did act.

Your hands were on his chest before you even knew what the hell you were doing, shoving, pushing, and tugging at his shirt like you wanted to rip it off, like you wanted to tear him apart the same way he was tearing you apart, inside and out. "Get off me," you said, breathless, furious, shaking with the kind of anger that burned hotter than anything else, hotter than his mouth on your skin, hotter than the way he was grinding into you, and hotter than the need you felt inside of you. "Get the fuck off me, Rick."

But he didn't move.

His chest heaving against your palms as he stared down at you, the expression on his face had turned into something that looked wrecked, something ruined, something that had already gone past the point of no return. His hands were still on you, fingers now finding their way to your thighs, your waist, your soul, and you felt like you were the one suffocating beneath him, beneath the weight of his, the weight of it all.

Beneath the lies, the guilt, the frustration, and the lust that had been building for months.

"You don't want that," he said quietly, calm even, making your stomach flip and your fingers twitch, making your hesitation crack almost in an instant. "Nah. You don't want me to stop."

"Fuck off," you hissed back at him, but you didn't really mean it anymore, and you weren't strong enough to push him away one way or another. No, your fingers were still holding onto his shirt; your body was still arching into his without thinking, without meaning to, without caring. "But you don't get to do that—you don't get to come to me in the dark, you don't get to put your hands on me, you don't get to want me when you're still acting like—like—"

"Like what?" His fingers grabbed you harder, rougher, more desperately, his eyes demanding your attention to be fully on him like he needed to hear you say it, and like he needed you to break right along with him. "Like I don't already know? Like I don't already know what she did, what he did, and what they both did? And what we—"

He cut himself off, his jaw clenching with the unspoken truth, with the reality that had been stabbed inside his thoughts like a knife since the second Shane had confronted him.

"Lori's baby ain't yours," you then let out, the words meant to make him hurt the way you were hurting, the way he made you hurt every time he pretended like this was nothing. "And you know it, Rick. You know. And deep down? Deep down you couldn't give less of a shit about it. Ain't that true?"

Rick huffed loudly like you'd just knocked the air out of his lungs, like you'd just taken the knife from his thoughts, only to ram it into his heart until he couldn't breathe.

You should've stopped there.

Should've let it be enough.

But it wasn't, not after the last night you spent staring at the ceiling of your tent after he'd left, replaying in your mind how his hands felt on you, his mouth, his voice whispering in your ear and sounding like he was falling apart. Of course, you couldn't stop thinking back as well… All the mornings where he wouldn't even look at you while at the Quarry, where he acted like you were nothing, where he went back to Lori like he hadn't kept an eye on you every single time you bent over or walked past him. No, you were invisible, and right now, you felt like you would be unseen all over again.

"You know it, and you're still choosing her," you pushed further, your own breath shaking now, and your own anger burning through every last rational thought you had left. "You're still holding onto something that ain't even real anymore—"

"I ain't choosing her," he snapped back, his voice breaking apart as his fingers tightened around you, as his body pressed you down, as his lips came so damn close to yours you could taste the breath he exhaled, the frustration, and the need. "You think I don't want this? You think I don't—" He stopped and swallowed hard, his throat feeling dry, his body trembling like he couldn't hold it together anymore, like he was breaking right there in front of you.

"But you don't get to want me when you're still fucking lying to yourself," you responded, and it came out quieter this time, as if all the fight was draining out of you like you were exhausted and you just couldn't take it anymore. "Again… You don't get to touch me like this and then pretend like it didn't happen. I can't—" Your voice cracked, and you hated it, hated the way it made you sound weak, greedy for something wrong, as if you were just as far gone as he was. "I can't fucking take it, Rick."

His fingers were at your jaw in a second, gripping it tightly, holding you there, forcing you to look at him, forcing you to see every single emotion behind those blue eyes.

"You think I can?" His voice was strained, barely even a whisper now. He wasn't just talking to you—he was talking to himself as well and trying to convince himself of whatever was going on inside his head. "You think this doesn't kill me since Atlanta? Wakin' up every morning, seein' you, knowin' I can't—" His breath hitched, making him gulp. "Knowin' I ain't supposed to—"

And that was it. Because your hands weren't pushing anymore.

Suddenly, your fingers were pulling, dragging him down, closing the space because you couldn't take it either anymore. It was too much. After all, you were drowning in it, suffocating in it, burning alive in it. In him.

And when Rick's lips pressed back against yours, it wasn't controlled, wasn't careful; it was only like he was trying to memorize the taste of you once more, to remember the taste of sin he'd already started to crave again.

Your nails went down his back once his fingers slid into your hair, his body pressing down hard, holding you there, owning you there, like he needed to feel every inch of you, needed to know you were his, even if he wouldn't say it.

"Rick," you moaned against his mouth, and his response was a groan, sounding quiet and wrecked, his hands gripping, his hips bucking, his body trembling as he kissed you like he needed you more than air, more than reason, more than whatever life he was trying so hard to hold onto.

"Tell me to stop," he stuttered, his forehead against yours, his breath shaking and muscles tense, like he was waiting for you to make the choice for him. "Tell me to walk away."

You didn't. Because you couldn't.

Instead, your legs wrapped around his waist, your fingers grabbing his hair, your lips finding his again, hard, needy, open, and desperate, and that was all it took.

For him to break completely.

When Rick pulled back just enough to look at you, his chest was rising and falling like he'd just fought for his life—like kissing you had been some kind of battle, some kind of war he was already too deep in to ever walk away from unscarred. And maybe it was. Maybe it always would be. Maybe that was why he was still here, his fingers now sliding under the hem of your dress like he couldn't help himself, like he had to feel you, had to know that you were real beneath him, warm and alive, and his for the taking, even if just for a moment.

But before Rick could let himself get lost in it, before he could let the fire in his blood burn him up from the inside out, he pushed himself up onto his forearms, his eyes looking over to the trees around you, listening to the uneasy silence that always meant one of two things—either you were alone, or something was waiting, watching, and creeping closer. His body tensed up as he tried to calm down his racing heart, ready to fight, to kill, to protect—until he was sure and certain that the only sound filling the empty woods was the ragged, uneven way you were breathing beneath him.

The second Rick's attention went back to you, the second he focused on the way your lips were parted and slightly swollen and the way your pupils were all wide, the way your chest rose and fell in quick, uneven movements, he was gone, already sliding his hands up, pushing your dress out of his way, and dragging it higher—knowing you wouldn't be wearing anything underneath—his mouth already back on you, already burning a path across your skin like he was trying to mark it.

And you let him.

You let him as his fingers dug into your waist, as his mouth found the soft, sweaty skin at your throat, as his lips moved lower, and his teeth biting the places he knew would make you sigh and shiver for more. Rick wanted to make you press your body up into his to make you need and want him closer. He wanted you to need him everywhere.

Like you needed him to break you apart just so he could put you back together again.

Once he licked his way down your neck and over your collarbone, his tongue then sliding slowly—so slowly—over your breasts, down to your stomach, lower and lower, his hands already holding on to your hips.

"God," you gasped, your hips bucking up on instinct, with your back arching and your legs spread wide, your whole body betraying you, giving into the desperation. "Rick—"

He growled in response, a deep sound that vibrated against your skin, making your thighs shake, and you could feel how gone he was, how much he needed this.

How much he needed you.

And then, before you could catch your breath, one hand was sliding lower, his fingers finding the wet, swollen folds of your pussy between your legs since he knew exactly just how much of a mess you already were for him.

"Shit," he groaned as if he wasn't just talking to you and more like he was talking to himself.

Rick couldn't believe how wet you were, how soaked you were just from him craving you, just from him grinding against you, and from the way his mouth felt on your skin.

His fingers started to tease you slowly at first, sliding through the slickness, parting you open, and pressing barely against your entrance, with his thumb rubbing against your clit ever so softly, but not enough—not even close to enough—just enough to make you moan.

Enough to make your thighs twitch, enough to make your nails dig into his shoulders, and bite your lip so hard you thought you might bleed.

And Rick felt the way your pussy clenched for him, the way your hips bucked up, and the way your breath hitched. That was it, because, in the next second, his mouth was going lower, pressing sloppy kisses down your body, as if it was the only thing that mattered anymore.

And then—then he was there.

His mouth was right where you wanted it to be.

And when his tongue slid out, when it ran slowly up your slit, parting it for him once more and tasting you, groaning deep and hungry against your pussy—you almost cried out loud.

Arching your back, your fingers were desperately trying to hold on to his hair, to keep your legs still, but all you could focus on was the way his tongue moved against you, devouring you like a man who had been starving for months, for years, for his whole life, like this was something he needed to survive.

Rick's hands immediately gripped your thighs harder, his fingers bruising, thumbs digging into your skin and wanting to hold you there, to keep you from moving, keep you from running, keep you from doing anything but taking it. And from the way he moved his tongue against your clit, the way he sucked it into his mouth and moaned against your pussy? The taste of you made him realize that this was the feeling he'd always craved in his life.

To be desired this much, just by existing and letting you feel him in return.

"Rick—" You choked out again in a pathetic sob, just a desperate, whiny plea as your body tensed, as you got closer, closer still, too close too fast.

But he didn't stop until you were gasping, whimpering, and shaking; he didn't slow down until you were crying his name quietly with a shaky voice and a trembling body, so wrecked, so ruined, and his all over again.

You were right there, right on the edge of an orgasm, your muscles straining in anticipation inside your body; it almost hurt, every nerve screaming silently for more. You could feel it in the way your thighs clenched around his head, the way your hips bucked up into his mouth, chasing it, needing it, knowing it was right there.

Until he stopped.

Simply stopped.

One second, his mouth was on you, devouring you, his tongue working you over like he was on a mission to destroy you completely, and the next?

Nothing.

Just the cold shock of a sudden loss, of being denied when you were already on the edge, and about to get wetter and wetter for him since the second he had laid his hands on you.

To come all over his face, just like he had on yours the night before.

You let out a cry that barely even sounded like it came from you, your hips bucking up and your pussy desperately chasing after his mouth, after his tongue, after anything to replace the sudden, unbearable emptiness between your thighs, but Rick just laughed in amusement, which made your whole body burn with heat because he knew exactly what he was doing.

Starting to twist your fingers in his hair, making your nails dig into his scalp, you tried to push his head back down. To force him back where you needed him, but Rick still wouldn't move, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin as he pulled back just enough to look at you with wet, swollen lips that were shining with just how soaked you were for him.

"Look at you," he grumbled, voice rough, teasing, mocking even.

You wanted to kill him for it, wanted to slap him; maybe at that moment you even wanted to break him apart once more—but mostly, you wanted to come for him, wanted to grab his hair and shove his mouth back where it belonged and take what you needed.

"So fuckin' needy now, huh? Where'd all that attitude go, sweetheart? Thought you had somethin' to say to me about a minute ago."

"You'd let me do anything to you, wouldn't you? Say it, sweetheart. Say you want me to eat you out."

You whimpered, fingers still scraping against his scalp, but didn't answer. You only sobbed in response, half a warning and half begging, again trying to pull him back down, but he only grinned until he decided to make his way toward your pussy again.

"Mhm…" Rick's tongue flicked against your clit, just enough to make you shiver until he pulled back a bit. "Ain't gonna say it? Guess I'll have to make you cry some more then. I wanna hear more of 'em pretty lil' sobs."

When he leaned back in and his lips finally touched you again, it wasn't the same as before—it wasn't the desperate kind of hunger that had been there, and it wasn't the fast, unbearable way he had been tasting you, no.

Now, he was taking his time.

Rick hummed against your inner thigh, leaving behind an open-mouthed, sloppy kiss like he had all the time in the world, like he wasn't torturing you. "Y'know what's really cute?"

"Shut up," you spat out, trying to force him back to your pussy. "Just—just fucking do it!"

Rick laughed—actually laughed, his breath warm, his fingers still barely teasing the wetness between your thighs. "Oh… you beg real pretty, y'know that?"

"Rick—"

He cut you off by dragging his tongue over your clit in sudden, lazy, torturous strokes that weren't nearly enough, and he wasn't letting you have it.

"You remember last night, sweetheart?" He grumbled against you, taunting you. "How you rode me, got me all worked up, had me right fuckin' there—" His tongue licked your clit again, just for a second, just enough to make you whine like he wanted you to, "—and then you just slid right off? Left me standin' there, hard as a fuckin' rock, while you got on your knees and put that sweet little mouth on me instead?"

You knew what this was now, knew exactly what he was doing, and why he was holding you here, keeping you right on the edge on purpose.

He was punishing you.

"Rick, I—" You started once more, your voice breathless, uneven, and pleading, but still, he wasn't letting you come for him just yet.

And when you tried to grind up into his mouth, tried to push yourself over the edge, he held you down, his grip tightening, his breath ragged as he grumbled, "Nah. Not yet."

You could've killed him. Again, you wanted to. Could've killed him for this, for the way he was keeping you here, for the way he was playing with you, for the way he was controlling this, controlling you, making you suffer for what you did to him the night before, for leaving him hanging, for teasing him, and for making him lose his mind when you had stopped.

But the worst part?

The worst part was that it was working.

The worst part was that you were falling apart for him in return, that you were sobbing for him, that you would've said anything, would've begged for anything, would've given him anything if it meant he'd just let you have it.

Suddenly, you heard it, with you getting immediately pulled away from this high—you heard it somewhere past the trees, beyond the branches, dead leaves, and the suffocating feeling from the heat of Rick's mouth on you.

Something cracked, something moved; you were sure of it, and it was enough to make your fingers twist in his hair for an entirely different reason as your head snapped up.

But Rick—he didn't even care.

He didn't lift his head at all, didn't stop dragging his tongue over the inside of your thigh, slow and lazy like he hadn't just had you on the edge of a breakdown, with your body being a trembling mess that was spread out on the forest floor as if he had all the time in the world, even when you knew he didn't.

Every second wasted was another chance at something going wrong, at someone coming looking for you, or a walker creeping up from behind the trees.

"I heard something," you breathed out, trying to push up on your elbows and see past the branches and shadows, but Rick just tightened his grip, holding you down.

"We're gonna make it quick," he answered, making you feel every touch of his lips, his tongue, and his teeth as he moved over you, kissing and biting, inching further up with every passing second, making it clear that whatever you thought you heard, whatever danger might be hiding behind the trees, it wasn't about to stop him.

Maybe you should have pushed him off; maybe you should have listened to that uneasy feeling in the back of your mind, but instead, you just lay there—knowing that he was the one in control.

And maybe that was why you couldn't stop yourself—maybe that was why, instead of just letting it happen, instead of drowning back into the way his mouth was moving higher, already crawling back up to lick over your stomach, you had to ruin it.

"I—" You started, voice still breathless and uneven, "Shane told me something interesting..."

You felt Rick stop in an instant.

It wasn't obvious—not at first, not enough that anyone else would have noticed, but you did.

The way his breath hitched, just a bit. The way his lips paused against your ribs, staying there for a second too long like he was bracing himself for whatever was about to come out of your mouth.

"Lori's pregnant, isn't she?" You continued, keeping your voice casual, almost amused, because now you wanted to see what he would do, wanted to see how he would react.

Rick? He didn't say anything. He didn't immediately try to deny it, didn't try to tell you Shane was lying, and didn't even try to tell you it wasn't any of your business.

His hands only slid higher, up your body, pulling you with him and forcing you closer, forcing you to look at him and to feel him, and to watch as his fingers reached for his belt, undoing it to open his pants, like he was daring you to keep talking. He was giving you one more chance to shut up before he made you regret every word that had just come out of your mouth.

"Bet you don't even know if it's yours, do you?" You continued harshly, your voice quieter now, softer, while something angry but also sad could be heard beneath those words, something that dug in, because you wanted him to know that he wasn't the only one who could take control.

That he wasn't the only one who could get inside someone else's head the way he had tried to get inside yours.

But Rick just laughed, shaking his head. And it wasn't the kind of laughter that was meant to be heard as he leaned in.

"It ain't."

And then—then his mouth was on you again.

His lips were trying to take back the control you had just stolen from him, trying to reclaim the power as he kissed his way back up your body, dragging his tongue over your throat, each sloppy kiss feeling possessive, almost angry, like he wasn't sure if he wanted to devour you or destroy you.

And God, you wanted to let him as soon as he was biting and kissing your lips, groaning into your mouth.

But when he shoved his pants down just enough to free himself, you tensed up, your fingers digging into his shoulders, that panic rising up in your body, because you could hear the noises deep inside the surrounding woods still around you. The branches creaking, the wind rustling through the trees, the distant sound of something still moving out there.

And it didn't matter if it was a walker or just the wind; the fear of it made its way into your head all over; it still made you want to push him back, because as much as you wanted this, you also didn't want to die with his cock inside you.

"But—" Your voice barely made it past your lips, too scared, too quiet, and you swallowed hard, shaking your head as you tried to get your thoughts together, but it was useless when he was this close. "Rick, we—"

"I got you," he reassured you, cutting you off before you could even finish the sentence, his voice quieter now, like the anger had burned itself out the second he felt you hesitate. His forehead dropped against yours, his fingers trailing down the side of your neck, his touch so tender it almost made you moan. "I got you, alright? Ain't nothin' gonna happen to you."

You sucked in a quick breath, your heart hammering against your ribs, but you still didn't move, not when the fear was still in your head.

"What if—"

"They ain't out there," he said, cutting you off again. "Ain't nothin' out there, sweetheart. Only you and me right now. Just look at me. Don't think about nothin' else, just me."

His cock was pushing against your pussy now, slick with how wet you already were, the head nudging against your clit ever so often.

"You're still thinkin' about what's out there, aren't you?" He mumbled. "Ain't nothin' gonna touch you. But I will."

Without waiting, he pushed in just an inch, enough to make you gasp, but pulled back just as quick.

"You feel that?" Rick growled, his forehead still against yours. "That's all you need to worry ‘bout right now. How good I'm about to make you feel. Nothin' else. Just this."

You looked at him, at those deep blue eyes watching you, at the way his face was slightly red, and his brows narrowed like he was barely holding himself together.

When his hands grabbed your thighs to lift your legs, wrapping them around his waist, the head of his cock still rubbing right against your clit, you let out this quiet, desperate little sound that had him moan, his hands tightening on you like he wanted to crawl inside you and never leave.

"Yeah… that's it," he groaned, his lips just above yours. "You with me?"

You nodded, feeling a little too dizzy to even form words, and that was all he needed—one second, you were barely holding onto him, and the next, he was pushing his cock inside you, stretching you open and making you gasp, your body trembling from how overwhelming he felt.

"There you go," Rick whispered, kissing your temple ever so softly, his hands gripping your waist as he pushed in deeper, filling you up completely, his voice slightly strained, like he was trying to take his time even though you could feel the way he was trembling as well, the way he was struggling not to just slam into you. "That's a good girl. Feels good, don't it?"

Simply nodding once more against his shoulder while your body adjusted to him, the feeling of his cock inside you was starting to push away the fear. And when you finally bucked your hips up to meet his, Rick let out this deep, wrecked moan, his fingers tightening on you as he finally started to move, slow but deep, making sure you felt every inch of him.

It was different this time. Not like the night before.

There was no rush in it now, no guilt. Just heat, just need, just the way his hands trembled against your skin, the way he kissed you between gasps, between praises, whispering, "You're doing so goddamn good, you know that? Doing so fuckin' good for me."

Rick knew you wanted this. He could feel how much you wanted it with the way you held on to him, the way you were already so wet for him, pulling him in, keeping him there, but he wasn't about to let you get lost in it—not when he had you like this, not when he had you wrapped around him, gasping against his skin, melting into him in a way that made something inside him go weak and desperate at once.

So he didn't do much at first; he just let one of his hands slide up until he was cradling the back of your head, his fingers moving into your hair as he pulled you in close, pressing your face against his shoulder, against the sweaty fabric of his shirt, letting you feel the warmth of him as he quietly moaned into your ear.

"There you go," he whispered, his voice sending a shiver straight through you. "Just hold onto me, alright? Keep quiet, sweetheart. That's it."

And when you let out this soft, muffled sound against his neck, something halfway between a sob and a shaky whine, with your arms tightening around him like you were trying to press yourself closer to him, Rick felt it—the way your body started to relax, the way that fear started to melt away, piece by piece.

That did something to him.

The way you trusted him enough to let go and let him keep you quiet, the way you let him keep you safe while he was buried so deep inside you it barely even felt like you were two separate people anymore—and he wasn't sure if he could handle that.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he groaned against your hair, his fingers tightening on the back of your head. "You feel so goddamn good…"

You made another soft, helpless sound, barely more than a whimper against his skin. Rick's other hand was holding one of your legs as he pushed his hips back, pulling every inch of himself out until only the head of his cock remained inside of your pussy before pushing forward again, deeper this time, making sure you had no choice but to feel how hard he was throbbing for you.

"Taking me so damn well," he praised, his voice rough but gentle as if he couldn't believe how perfect you felt around him. "So fuckin' desperate for me…"

And that—God, that made you shake against him. It made you gasp all quietly against his shoulder like you were trying so hard to keep from making too much noise. But Rick wanted to hear you, wanted to get those sweet sounds of lust out of you, wanted to get you so lost in it that you forgot about everything else—forgot about the walkers, forgot about the group, forgot about the way he'd been avoiding you the whole day until now.

So he kept his movements deep, grinding into you in these long, slow strokes, making sure you felt every bit of his cock, making sure you had no room to think about anything else except how good he was making you feel.

"Just like that," he whispered into your ear, his voice all low and tender. "You love that, don't you? Tryin' so hard to keep quiet…"

It was almost too much for Rick as well. He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold back, wasn't sure how much longer he could keep from completely losing himself in you.

"Look at you," he breathed out against your skin, his fingers tightening on your thigh, his grip almost bruising now as he fucked into you. "My good girl, aren't you?"

Shit…

The way you clenched around him at those words—it almost made him lose it right then and there.

"Yeah, that got you, huh?" He smirked, putting his lips to your cheek, his fingers still holding the back of your head. "You like bein' my good girl?"

Rick's hand went to your neck as his hips pressed against yours, keeping you full and stretched around his cock. When you tried to turn your head, he didn't let you. He kept your face right there, inches from his, forcing you to look at him.

"Don't go hidin' from me now," he laughed quietly, his breath heavy against your lips. "You cryin', aren't you?"

You shook your head, but it was useless. He could feel and see it—your body trembling, breath uneven, and your eyes wet with the tears that threatened to roll down your face.

"Lyin' to me, too?" Rick smiled, tilting his head as his cock pulsed deep inside you, drawing out a wrecked little sob from you. "Tell me why, then. Why're you all teary-eyed, huh?"

"Rick, I—" Your voice trembled, but he wasn't letting you get away with it.

"Come on, sweetheart," he pushed, grinding into you again, making you moan, and your pussy tighten around him, pulling a deep groan from his throat. "Tell me. Ain't gonna stop ‘til you do. Admit that you're cryin' for me."

You swallowed hard, your whole body burning from how deep his cock was hitting, from the way his words went straight inside your head. You were trying to fight it, but you couldn't. You felt yourself breaking, felt your heart racing, and Rick could feel it, too.

He was waiting for it.

"Be my good girl," he whispered. "Admit that you're cryin' for me ‘cause I'm makin' you feel that damn good." He brushed his lips over your cheek, over the tear that had finally fallen. "Bet you love it, don't you? Bet you love bein' my sweet little girl."

You sobbed again, nodding fast as he pushed deeper, harder, to drink in the way you were crumbling beneath him.

"C'mon," he urged, licking the tear from your cheek and pressing wet kisses down your jaw. "Gonna take care of you, sweetheart. Gonna fuck you just how you need it. Just admit it."

You sobbed again, barely able to hold back the sound, and Rick smirked in return.

"Bet you'd let me fuck you like this every goddamn night—keep you bouncing on my cock ‘til you can't think straight, ‘til all you can do is beg for more."

You were sobbing harder now, your pussy squeezing around his cock so tight that Rick groanedas he picked up the pace just a little. And he saw it before he even heard it—the way your breath hitched, the way your eyes squeezed shut as another tear rolled down your cheek.

"Shit," he smirked, his voice all rough and uneven now. "Bet you love cryin' for me. Why don't you just tell me, huh?"

You shook your head again, your whole body trembling against him, but your eyes were all wet and shiny. "N-no," you whimpered in response, trying to calm yourself down. "I—"

You sucked in a shaky breath as Rick suddenly pushed hard and fast into you, making you let out another little sob, "You just—Rick, you talk to me like that, and I can't—"

"You can't… what? Tell me, why do I see tears on your pretty little face?" He let his thumb swipe over the wetness under one of your eyes, his gaze locked onto yours as he forced you to acknowledge it. "Ain't nothin' wrong, is there?"

"No," you whimpered, gasping as his cock twitched inside you, every thick inch pressing against that spot that had you clenching around him.

"So, what is it?" He demanded again, rocking his hips just once to tease you, barely pulling out before sinking back in deep, watching your mouth fall open at the feeling. "Tell me. Now."

You swallowed hard, your fingers digging into his biceps now, your whole body burning. "I—I can't help it, you just—" You let out another shaky breath, trying to look away, but he wasn't having it.

Rick grabbed your chin once more, forcing your gaze back to his. "Nah, sweetheart. You don't get to hide from me." He leaned in, his lips licking over yours, taunting you, but still holding back. "You're cryin' ‘cause it feels that fuckin' good, huh?"

You let out a helpless little noise, and your eyes squeezed shut, but Rick wasn't letting you escape it. His grip stayed, his cock still deep inside your pussy.

"I wanna hear you say it," he continued. "Tell me how good I make you feel."

Your breath hitched, another tear slipping from your eyes. "S-so good, Rick," you whispered with a needy voice. "You make me feel s-so good, I—fuck, I just—"

Rick let out a deep, satisfied groan, kissing the tear off your skin. "That's my good girl… So fuckin' pretty when you cry so lovely for me."

Then, without warning, he started slamming deeper into you, harder, dragging more choked sobs from your lips.

"S-shit—!"

Rick groaned against your skin, his hands soon gripping both your thighs as he started to move faster. "That's what I want," he commanded. "Wanna hear you cry for me."

And you did.

Because the way he started to fuck you now—faster, rougher, keeping you full with every stroke—made your head spin and your back arch up against him. It made you whimper and cry every time his cock pushed against the spot inside you that had your whole body on edge.

"That's it, sweetheart," he whispered. "So fuckin' good for me—feel how tight you're squeezin' me?"

You let out a breathless little cry, not able to answer.

"Goddamn," Rick groaned, his thrusts picking up, still deep but quicker now, his control slipping with every sound you made. "You cryin' on my cock… Fuckin' love it—"

He was losing himself in you, but still, he wasn't done with you yet. Not until he had made you come for him.

He put a hand between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing it softly and just right. "I wanna feel it," he whispered, his voice strained. "Wanna feel you come around me."

You moaned for him, your body tensing as you got closer and closer.

Rick was barely even thinking now, not even trying to hold back, and when you gasped, when your whole body shook against him that he could barely move, Rick realized—too late—that he wasn't gonna be able to stop himself. But he wanted to see it—wanted to watch you come before he lost himself, before he let go.

"You gonna come for me? Gonna come all over my cock? C'mon, come for me," he growled, his fingers pressing down harder and his hips grinding against yours with each deep, punishing thrust. "Give it to me, sweetheart. Let me feel it."

You let him.

Your whole body went stiff, your pussy squeezing around him so hard that Rick let out a ragged, choked moan, with his grip on you tightening as he fucked you through it, refusing to stop, making sure you felt every second of it.

"Good girl," he choked out, still grinding into you, watching your face as you came apart beneath him. "You feel so fuckin' good…"

He should've pulled out. He knew he should've. But shit—watching you like this, feeling you like this, the way you were still trembling around him, still sobbing for him?

"Fuck—"

His movements turned uneven, his cock pulsing inside you as his hips jerked forward, his head dropping to your shoulder as he lost control, burying himself in your pussy over and over.

Then he lost it.

His control broke all at once. His thrusts turned erratic and rough, his cock slamming into you deeper, and he cursed, a strangled, desperate sound leaving his lips as he bit down on your neck and held you close.

"Fuck—I—" His whole body tensed up, and then he came—barely pulling out in time before he came against your thigh, his cum way too close to where it shouldn't be.

"Shit, shit, shit," he grumbled, his voice panicked, his hands now gripping at your hip, and his mind spinning.

"Rick," you breathed, your voice still shaky, still wrecked, still catching on the end of your orgasm. "Tell me—tell me you didn't—"

"I pulled out!" He cut in fast, too fast, like he was trying to convince himself as much as you, like saying it out loud would somehow make it true. "I pulled out, alright? Just—"

He immediately ran a hand down his face, his breath coming too fast, but he couldn't stop thinking about it, couldn't stop replaying this moment in his head, couldn't stop panicking, because it was too close, too risky, too stupid. "Jesus Christ..."

You were staring at him now, your chest still rising and falling all uneven, your pupils still wide, your body still trembling, but there was fear to be seen in your expression now, real fear, and that? That made Rick want to vomit on the spot when he felt his stomach drop.

"We're okay," he quickly said, but even as the words left his mouth, he wasn't sure he believed them, wasn't sure if he was saying them for your sake or his, because he didn't know; he really didn't know.

"We… we don't know that."

Your voice was still strained, but it didn't matter because the second those words left your mouth, they hit Rick like a bullet to the head, tearing straight through him, because you were right, and that was the problem, wasn't it? That was what made him almost puke, what was making his pulse race too fast, and what made him feel like he couldn't breathe—because you didn't know, because he didn't know, because neither of you could be here and pretend the risk wasn't there.

His jaw was clenched tight, his breath still uneven as he sat back on his heels, one hand caressing your thigh while the other went to grip his leg, but he didn't even realize he was shaking until he saw his own fingers tremble against your skin instead of his.

Rick's eyes looked down between your legs, down to where he could still see his cum smeared all over your thigh, way too close, and his stomach twisted itself into a knot so hard he thought he might actually be sick.

"Rick," you said again, more urgent this time, and when he moved his gaze back up to yours, he could see the panic, could see the way your chest was rising too fast, and the way your eyes were wide and glassy with actual tears. And that? That just made him feel worse.

"You should've pulled out sooner," you then said, and there it was, you sounding judgmental, and maybe you didn't mean for it to come out like that, maybe you weren't even thinking about how it sounded, but Rick was.

"Excuse me?"

"What… It simply means you should've pulled out sooner!" You stuttered, shoving at his chest, and even though you were still underneath him, still all shaky from what just happened, that panic was starting to turn into anger, and Rick could feel his own temper start to rise right alongside yours. "Jesus, Rick, do you not fucking get it? What if—"

"Oh, I get it," he cut in fast, not wanting you to panic even more.

"Do you?" You shot back, grabbing your dress and putting it back on as fast as you could. But your voice sounded like a betrayal, as if you couldn't believe him and thought he wasn't taking this seriously enough. And that? That just pissed him off more.

Rick let out a deep breath, dragging both hands through his hair, trying to think, trying to breathe, but it wasn't working, because his blood was running too hot, his mind was spinning too fast, and all he could think about was how stupid he'd been and how reckless.

"I can't be the next goddamn woman carrying a baby," you suddenly whispered, barely able to say it, barely able to breathe past it, because this? This was real, this was happening, and it was too much, way too much. "Not in this world… Not when your wife—"

Rick sucked in a slow, quick breath through his nose, his fingers twitching, and then, before you could say another thing, he let out this short laugh—humorless.

"Oh, here we go again," he cut you off, rubbing a hand down his face. "Lori. You really wanna talk about her right now? Is that what you're tryin' to do? Tryin' to remind me?"

"Rick, I—I'm not trying to—"

"Yes, you are. Always bringin' her up. Always throwin' her between us like she's what's stoppin' this!"

Your heart was racing. "Isn't she? She still… loves you."

"She fucked Shane." Rick let out another laugh—this one quieter, sadder, almost like he was laughing at himself. "But that's not what you're askin', is it?"

You blinked, your breath hitching. "Rick… she thought you were dead!"

"Stop it," he said it so plainly that your whole body went still. "I know why you bring her up. It's not about Lori; it's about you. About this."

You looked away fast, but he wasn't having it. He grabbed your chin, tilting your face back to his, forcing you to see him.

"Well? Am I wrong?"

"I don't know what you mean…" You answered quietly because you already knew, of course.

"Means you're the one that wanted this in the first place," he answered, but not in an angry way, just tired, sounding frustrated. "You knew the risk. You knew what could happen. Same as me."

Rick's eyes looked down to your mouth, then back up to your wet eyes, and his voice softened—just a little bit and just enough to make you want to cry some more.

"You think I don't know how risky this is?" He asked, shaking his head before he finally stood up, putting his softening cock back into his pants and fastening the belt. "You think I didn't lose sleep over it? Over you?" His voice cracked slightly, but he didn't stop, didn't let you answer him, until he said something he didn't mean to.

"But you're the one that came to me. You're the one that wanted me."

"Are you fucking serious?" You finally answered in shock, your voice sounding close to rage. "You really wanna put the blame on me?"

"Ain't that what happened?"

"Oh, fuck off, Rick," you snapped, standing up fast and shoving at his chest, hard enough that he actually stumbled back a little. "You wanted this just as much as I did; don't act like you didn't—don't act like this was all me!"

His eyes widened, but he didn't say anything, and that just pissed you off more.

"Maybe," you let out a humorless laugh. "Maybe I was stupid to think this actually could mean something to you."

Rick looked back over to you, but you didn't let him talk.

"Guess I was just some—what... a distraction? Something to make you forget about your wife fucking Shane behind your back?"

Rick stiffened.

That hit.

Your lips were trembling now, and you hated the way your throat tightened when you swallowed. "You can't even say it, can you?"

Rick opened his mouth, but nothing came out at first, like he was struggling to find the right words—any words.

"Lori's got nothin' to do with this," he finally answered.

"Bullshit," you shot back instantly.

"No, no, it ain't about her," he continued, shaking his head. "Not with… not with you."

You looked up at the sky, trying not to burst into tears, and you weren't sure if you wanted to scream at him or kiss him.

Rick stood up straighter, his hand reaching out like he wanted to touch you, to hold you, but then he hesitated—like he wasn't sure if he even should.

"This wasn't just about the sex, not with you."

You blinked fast, trying to keep from breaking, trying to fight whatever it was that was hurting you deep inside.

"Then why don't you say it?"

"Maybe ‘cause I don't know what the hell to do about it. About us… and then there's Shane. You know it, too."

"I'm—I'm scared," you whispered, barely even realizing you were saying it, not even meaning to.

With that, Rick sighed. Not in a bitter way, just deep. Slow. Like he was finally letting himself feel it.

"Yeah," he responded, his voice calmer now. "Me too."

Trying to keep the tears from running down your cheeks, Rick was leaning in again, finally reaching out and hugging you tightly. "We'll figure it out. Glenn got those pills for Lori. She threw ‘em up, but he knows where they came from."

Putting your arms around him, Rick tilted his head, leaning in close to your ear, forcing you to focus and to listen.

"We'll go get ‘em," he whispered quietly. "If we have to."

And then—then he kissed you.

Soft. Gentle. Like he couldn't help it. Like it was the only thing keeping him from losing his mind right now.

So instead of snapping at you again, instead of letting that panic out, instead of making this worse than it already was, he just let out another slow breath and reached for your face, his fingers brushing along your jaw, his thumb swiping over your cheek as he touched it, pressing his lips against yours and trying to calm you down, to push away the fear with something real.

Him.

For a moment, Rick wasn't thinking about Lori, about Shane, about the farm, about anything except you.

Because you were here, in front of him. And it hit him then, so suddenly and so violently it nearly knocked the breath out of his lungs. How much he wanted you. Not just like this, not just for fun, not just to shut you up—just you.

His grip on your jaw tightened, just enough to make sure you didn't pull away before he kissed you harder this time—his lips parting against yours, his body pressing into you like he needed to know this wasn't slipping through his fingers the way everything else was.

You gasped softly, but it was enough. Enough for him to push, to hold you close and slip his tongue past your lips, tasting you, drinking you in like a dying man.

God, he could get lost in this.

He could stay right here, could forget it all, could just be.

But then you pulled back, your lips swollen. "…Rick?" Your voice was questioning, like you felt it too, and you knew he wasn't trying to shut you up. You knew this wasn't just about calming you down. "Are you okay?"

"I… I think I—"

He almost said it. The words had been right there, on his tongue, ready to slip past his lips. But he swallowed hard, forcing himself to stop.

"…I think I just need you to breathe, sweetheart," he said instead, his mind still catching up to what had happened between you. His hand moved down, fingers sliding down your throat, feeling your pulse race beneath his fingertips. "With me… C'mon, breathe," he whispered against your lips, his voice still rough but quieter now, more controlled.

You exhaled slowly against his mouth, still trembling but starting to calm down, starting to relax, and Rick took that as a win, took that as enough, took that as proof that maybe, just maybe, you could get through this without being scared of what might happen.

"Just breathe. Don't ever run from me."

Don't run from him?

Wasn't Rick the one who started acting like this wasn't happening? Like this wasn't something deeper, something impossible to come back from?

But before you could talk about any of that—before you could say anything at all…

BANG. 

A sudden gunshot rang out like an explosion, destroying the moment and sending both of you into shock, and for a second, neither of you moved. You just froze, just listened, just waited.

BANG. 

Another shot, then another, closer together this time, and Rick's eyes widened, because that wasn't hunting and definitely wasn't practice.

"No…" He whispered, already trying to process what was happening, and you were right there with him, scrambling to even out the dress and get rid of the dirt that was still clinging to it.

"What was that? What is going on?" You hissed, your voice urgent, your eyes wide, and Rick was just about to answer.

BANG. 

Another shot, then another, and another, almost rapid-fire by now, and then, it clicked.

The barn.

Rick's head snapped toward the direction of the farm, his pulse quickening, because no, no, no, no, that wasn't what he thought it was, was it?

And then—shouting.

Muffled at first, distant but getting louder, and Rick barely had time to process it before he was grabbing you, gripping your wrist, and yanking you with him, running toward the noise.

BANG.

Another shot. And this time, Rick heard it—the inhuman groans.

Walkers.

"Shane…" He snarled, gripping you tighter, pulling you faster, his heart racing.

You and Rick had barely made it halfway back to the farm when Dale came rushing toward you from the woods as well, his face full of shock as he stumbled to a stop in front of you, eyes looking between you and Rick like he was trying to figure out whether or not you already knew.

"Rick," Dale panted. "It's the barn—Shane—he just—"

"We know, Dale, we know," Rick cut in fast, all business now, all instinct, his panic shoved down from what you and he had just talked about. "We heard it."

Dale shook his head, his hands clenching into fists at his sides like he didn't even know what to do with them. "He let them out," he gasped. "The walkers—Hershel's people—and Shane—he lost it, he—"

Rick didn't wait for him to finish.

He just grabbed your wrist again and started hurrying up, pulling you with him once more and dragging you both toward whatever hell was waiting ahead, with Dale following before the three of you rushed across the field until the farm came fully into view.

And that was when you saw it.

The barn doors were wide open, and from the inside, they were still stumbling out, groaning and moving their rotting bodies into the sun.

The rest of the group was already there, scattered in front of the barn in a half-circle, weapons raised, some already firing, some still frozen in the background, some still trying to process what was even happening. Further back, you saw Hershel, you saw Maggie, and you saw Beth, Jimmy, and Patricia. You saw the horror on their faces as everything they had been trying to ignore, trying to deny, and trying to pretend wasn't real came crawling out into the daylight, proving them all wrong.

But you barely had time for any of it before another shot rang out—Shane leading the charge, his face full of fury and anger, like he had been waiting for this, his own kind of justice.

One by one, the walkers dropped dead to the ground, with the sound of soulless bodies hitting the dirt, and slowly, the chaos started to turn into something closer to an ending.

But then, the last walker stepped out of the barn. And the world stopped.

She was small. So very young.

She wasn't supposed to be here.

She wasn't supposed to be like this.

Sophia…

"Sophia? Sophia… Oh, no... Sophia… Sophia... No—"

Carol's cry broke the silence, and before you could even process what you were seeing, she was running forward, calling her daughter's name and reaching for her, her voice cracking. But Daryl was on her in seconds, holding her back, saying, "Don't watch."

And Rick?

Rick was still standing next to you, trying to hold onto that same control he always had, but you saw it. You saw the way his fingers flexed around his revolver and saw the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

Then, he moved.

One step forward. Then another.

Gun raised.

No hesitation. No turning back.

And when the shot rang out, loud and final through the fields, Sophia fell to the ground, dead. And in that moment, Carol's heart died right along with her.

Nobody moved.

Nobody spoke.

Even Shane, who had been so full of rage just seconds ago, was frozen now, staring, his weapon still in his hands.

Not until Carl sniffled in the background, while Lori was pulling him into her arms, shielding his face and telling him not to look.

Rick still stood there, staring down at Sophia's small, lifeless body, his gun still raised but lowering it slowly, his whole body still rigid as if he was waiting for something, like he was trying to process what he had just done, and for the first time since you met him, he looked… lost.

You reached for him before you even realized what you were doing, your fingers grabbing his wrist, and at first, he didn't react, didn't acknowledge it, didn't even seem to feel it—but then, slowly, painfully, he let out a deep breath, and without looking at you, without saying a word, he let you take the weapon from his hands.

As the group stood there and the reality of what had just happened sank in, with the sun burning too bright overhead and shining down at the blood that soaked into the dirt, Rick finally turned around. He looked at you, letting you see the exhaustion in his face, the grief.

Since the second he had lowered the gun, the second it really hit—that this wasn't just a walker, not just another nameless, faceless corpse, and not just another body to bury—this was Carol's daughter, her little girl, the one you all had spent days searching for, the one you had hoped for, the one you had all convinced yourselves was still alive out there—his whole body sagged.

It was over. The search for Carol's daughter. Along with the hope to still find Sophia alive.

Just like that.

Andrea, who had been so eager to prove herself, who had been one of the first to draw her gun when Shane snapped, had been ready to take the shot at every single walker that stumbled out of that barn—but not this one.

Hershel, who had seen this moment coming the second Shane put foot on his land and who had been kneeling there in shock, has watched his wife, neighbors, and loved ones get gunned down one by one, but he hadn't looked truly defeated until now.

You braced yourself, your heart still racing too fast, because you thought now that it was over and took his revolver, Rick might look at you, or he'd search for your eyes, that he'd need something from you—your presence, maybe even your touch, something to help him, something to keep him from drowning in whatever this had just done to him.

But he didn't.

He didn't look at you at all.

He looked past you.

Straight to Lori. Straight to Carl.

Straight to the family that was still his, that would always be his, no matter what, and no matter where.

Even after the way his hands had been on you just minutes ago, gripping, shaking, needing, even after the way his mouth had been on you, his tongue, his…

You clenched your jaw.

This?

This was a reminder.

Of who he was. Of what you were.

And Shane? Shane saw it. He saw you standing there all stiff, and when you tore your gaze away from Rick, only then did you feel Shane's eyes on you—there he was.

Watching. Knowing.

Because of course, he knew.

And he was smirking. That tiny, knowing smirk that was barely even obvious, that barely looked like amusement, and that barely counted as anything other than a warning.

Because he knew exactly where you had been before this. He knew exactly why Rick had been late and why he hadn't come back with Hershel and Jimmy. He knew exactly what Rick had been doing when he should've been here. And he knew exactly why he was coming back with you by his side.

Now you knew that he wasn't ever gonna let that go. He tilted his head just slightly, just enough for you to notice. Just enough to say—told you so.

And you?

You realized that you had given yourself to Rick Grimes like a sin, and now you stood here, understanding the truth—you weren't his salvation.

You were just another taste of his damnation.

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: So, funny (or not-so-funny) story—Tumblr shadowbanned this post for a few days, and I have no idea if anyone actually saw it before it came back. So, if you're seeing this new repost of it now, where did it show up for you? Dash? Blog? Tags? A smoke signal in the sky? I'd appreciate any comment! (Because I was literally fighting for my life trying to get this post visible, and now I'm lowkey paranoid.

[lovesickforhim]

𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 After meeting Lily-Rose through modeling, you two quickly become inseparable friends. However, all that could be thrown into disarray when you meet her father, Johnny Depp. Sparks quickly fly, and neither you nor Johnny know what to make of it. On one hand, there's undeniable chemistry; You can't stay away from him, like he's done alchemy on your very brain, rewired you to be his. But on the other, he's your best friend's father, the relationship is controversial, and it could destroy the friendship you'd so desperately built.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 Johnny Depp x f! reader

𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒 age gap, best friend's dad, she falls first - he falls harder, forbidden romance

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 chapters will be marked with *

𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐏𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 on my Wattpad (cupids_auroras) and my Tumblr (drugs-and-daddyissues). If you see this fan fiction elsewhere, please DM me.

―✦

✿ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏 | 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

✿ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐 | 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑

✿ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟑 | 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒

✿ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟒 | 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒

✿ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟓 | 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐘

✿ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟔 | 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒

✿ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟕 | 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

✿ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟖 | 𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐒

✿ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟗 | 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

✿ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟎 | 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 *

✿ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟏 | 𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒

✿ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟐 | 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 *

✿ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟑 | 𝐌𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋

[lovesickforhim]

3. The Unicorn | nanny!yn

Unicorn: An individual who is willing to join an existing romantic relationship. Usually a bisexual female.

Summary: The aftermath of that fateful night has lots of consequences. Not all of them are bad.

A/N: This is the final part! Based on this and this.

Word Count: 11.7k

Warning: 18+ only, smut, angst, mentions of divorce

Part 1 & Part 2

You had to admit. The ensuite bathroom was really nice. But you couldn’t imagine enjoying the soaker tub with jets and soft fluffy towels as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You took off your little pearl choker as tears continued to fall down your cheeks and you removed your sweater and skirt. It all felt so pointless. You had wasted so much time fretting over your outfit and matching it to your pearl choker and your pretty panties all for everything to just blow up completely. Now your favorite pink pearl choker was tainted and you’d probably never want to wear it again.

You should have said no to the proposition. You knew you should have listened to your gut. It was going to blow up and someone was going to get hurt.

Your night shorts and matching top were soft on your skin but you hated it because you’d also chosen this set with the thought that both Kit and Harry might see it. But you’d be sure they never did.

Setting your alarm for 5:00 am you climbed into the luxurious bed and rolled to your side hoping you could get some sleep so you could turn your brain off as you replayed every moment in your head over and over again.

.           .           .          

“I don’t want to talk about it right now, Harry,” Kit insisted.

“She can’t hear us in here, love. Come on. Let’s work something out. Things didn’t go like we thought… right? We don’t need to do it again.”

“I just… I need some space, H. That was a lot. I guess I didn’t expect it to feel that way. I can’t talk about it right now, though. I need to sleep on it. Away from you. I know I’ll feel better in the morning.”

Harry nodded and grabbed his wife’s hand, “I love you, Kitty. You know that right? I love you so much. You are the most important person to me in the world.”

Kit attempted a weak smile as she pulled her hand away and tucked herself into the blankets, “Can you turn the light off when you leave the room?”

.           .           .

Harry had been unable to sleep at all. The couch wasn’t a great spot to sleep but more than that, he was feeling guilty and trying to figure out how to fix the problem. He didn’t want you to feel bad, you hadn’t done anything wrong. But he did need to support his wife first and foremost. He’d need to insist she apologize and put it behind her but he didn’t want his wife to feel like he was taking your side either. Even though, in a way, he kind of was. You were the innocent party in all this. He’d gotten carried away. You both just clicked. The chemistry between you was impenetrable. So much so that he nearly forgot about his wife being there and said some things he didn’t really mean.

When he heard light footfalls coming down the stairs and then saw the outline of your frame as you rushed toward the door he shot up from the couch and hurried toward you, “Y/n?”

You closed your eyes and stopped in your tracks. You hoped he was asleep and that you could leave without him knowing.

He put his hands on your shoulders as he stood behind you and spoke quietly, “Are you okay to drive?” He knew he wasn’t going to be able to talk you into staying. Though in his mind, the best-case scenario was that the three of you could sit and talk and move on from the disaster of what had happened the night before. Maybe over coffee and waffles. He knew that was unlikely but he had hoped.

“I’m fine now. I just want to get out of here. I feel awful,” you turned yourself to look up at him in the dark.

“You don’t need to feel bad, honey. You didn’t do anything wrong. I need you to understand that.”

“I just need to go. You’ve been so nice to me. Thank you, Harry. For everything. Tell Kit how awful I feel and that I’m so sorry and never meant to hurt her.”

Harry frowned, “Don’t worry. Kit will feel better when she wakes up. I’ll talk to her. But you don’t owe anyone an apology.”

He put his arms around you and held you against his chest in a sweet hug. You could feel the thud of his heart under his pecs and inhaled his scent. You’d miss him. You’d miss Kit too. You’d especially miss William and Warner.

.           .           .

When you didn’t show up on Monday morning at the Styles’ house both Kit and Harry knew what was going on.

Kit had planned on apologizing to you for her behavior in person. She’d even planned to go to work a bit late that morning so all three of you could try and work it out. She was still feeling a bit betrayed by Harry and having a hard time unseeing and hearing what she had, but she knew her conduct had been out of line. She was acting on pure emotion and the wine exasperated her reaction. But that was no excuse.

“I can work from home today,” Harry said.

Kit shook her head, “I feel awful. I hurt her feelings. I was such a bitch to her and she didn’t deserve it. Maybe I should text her. Or go to her apartment and apologize to her face-to-face? What do you think? The least I can do is apologize for how I treated her.”

Harry pursed his lips, “Let me text her. See if she’ll come over later when you get home. I’ll tell her we’d like to talk and that you want to apologize.”

Sighing, Kit closed her eyes, “Don’t text her. I will. This is something I need to fix.”

He decided he’d let his wife figure out how she needed to approach the issue but he was worried it was too late. He was worried he’d never see you again and that would be it. You were totally justified in ghosting them both. Plus the semester would be starting up again for you in a couple of weeks and the boys would be back in school during the day so it felt futile to beg for you to come back.

And that’s exactly what you thought too. You were about to head into the new fall semester to start on your master’s degree and the boys were going back to school. You had hoped you’d still be able to watch the twins when Harry and Kit wanted a weekend away or a night off for a few extra bucks during the school year but there was absolutely no way you’d be able to face either Kit or Harry again.

You were sure Kit hated you with every fiber of her being. Which kind of made you angry the more you sat with what had happened. As sad as you were and as bad as you felt, you knew Harry was right. Nothing that happened was actually your fault.

Distracting yourself from what had happened Saturday night had been difficult because it was all so fresh. You knew with some time you’d get over it and move on but you were sure there would be some damage there. Netflix, long walks, lots of sleep, and pints of ice cream seemed to help a little.

But still, the moment that you couldn’t erase from your memory was when you were on their bed as Harry had just finished himself on your back and Kit yelled at him to make you leave all while you were still naked and floaty. Humiliating. But more than that, you started to realize, that what Kit did was uncalled for and mean. She had been mean to you and that made you angry.

So you were surprised when you saw a text from her on Monday afternoon. With an apology.

I hope you’re doing okay. I just wanted to reach out and tell you how sorry I am for how I acted Saturday night. I had hoped to talk to you this morning about it so I could do this in person, and I would still like to apologize to you in person if you’d let me. I understand if you’re not comfortable with it but if you are, I’ll be at Davanti’s on Fresno Street at 3:30 pm. I’ll be alone and plan to stay for an hour.

It was 2 pm. You needed to decide if you wanted to hear her out or just move on. Could you look at her again? Would you simply break down and cry the moment you saw her? Maybe it would be better if you requested Harry to be there? Or perhaps you should just ignore her and be done with it.

But you figured opting for closure would be better in the end. For you and probably for Kit as well.

I’ll be there.

You found a spot to park on the street a few blocks away so you could get some fresh air and stretch your legs before going inside. And also just in case you suddenly decided you didn’t want to go through with it, you could turn around and leave without having Kit seeing you.

But you didn’t change your mind and when you walked into the restaurant you saw Kit sitting at a booth looking down at her phone with a glass of wine in front of her.

You slid in across from her and she startled slightly before placing her phone face down, “Y/n! You came. Thank you.” She smiled. She looked hopeful and sweet.

Nodding you smiled back, “Of course.”

Kit looked at your hands and then out into the restaurant before back to you, “Would you like anything to drink or eat? It’s on me if you want–“

“No. That’s fine. I’ll just have a water when the server comes by. Not really hungry.”

She sat for a moment and blinked her eyes as she looked at you softly, “I am so sorry, Y/n. I know me just saying that can’t erase what I did. I wasn’t prepared to see him like that with anyone and I took it out on you. I’ll never forgive myself for the way I acted.”

You nodded and looked down at the table. You figured she would eventually forgive herself. Because that’s why she was there wanting to apologize to you in person. She wanted to feel better about what had happened and this was her way of doing that. So, while she would forgive herself eventually, despite saying she wouldn’t, you would never forget what happened to you that night. How she treated you, demeaned you. How it made you feel disgusted with yourself and Harry and her all at once. The horror you felt when the worst possible outcome happened.

“Can you ever forgive me?” She finally said which made you look up at her.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. I’m not really sure how I even feel right now about it. I still need time to negotiate all of this in my head first.”

Kit spread her fingers out on the table and looked down at her hand, “I understand that. I don’t deserve to be forgiven,” she sighed and looked back at you, “I wanted to try something new with Harry. I’ve been so… just trying to figure out how to make myself feel that thing I used to feel for him, ya know?” She laughed and shook her head, “He’s just so… male. I mean he’s sweet and gentle and attractive but in bed, he wants something I can’t give him, and vice versa. And now that the twins are older we get more privacy and can get back into being a little more explorative, and it’s made me really miss how things were when I was single and dating women. I know that sounds awful,” she bit the inside of her cheek, “But I’ve just been reaching for something that I’m never going to be able to have with Harry alone. But turns out,” she laughed, “funnily enough, that I don’t like him with anyone else or feeling that passion with someone else that I wanted to feel. I wanted to feel that with you. But that’s selfish of me. I’m all messed up right now,” she stitched her brows together and you could see how glassy her eyes were, “I’m sorry to dump that on you. That’s not fair to you.”

You nodded. You didn’t know what to say in response. She shouldn’t have told you any of that. That was true. And now you just felt bad for Harry that his wife was seeking something to fill in where she thought he lacked. But all you could think was that he was everything anyone would ever want and yet Kit didn’t even see that somehow.

“I wanted to also give you this. From the boys.” She handed you a small homemade booklet with drawings on it from both William and Warren. You flipped through the pages of marker and pen, drawings and stories written to go with each drawing.

You looked up at Kit with appreciation, “Thank you for this. Tell them I love it. I’ll read it every day.” You hadn’t wanted to cry. Hadn’t wanted to show Kit how sensitive and soft you were. She’d already watched you cry that night and now here you were with tears in your eyes again that you simply could not hold back.

“If you ever want to stop by and say hi to them you could. Or even just send me or Harry a text to tell them hi. They love you so much, Y/n. You’re so good with them. And I wanted to…” she paused as she looked at you with a sudden weight that hadn’t been there just before, “If anything ever, um…” she wavered her gaze from your face to the area behind your head and back, “Never mind. Just know how much both Harry and I trust you and would love for you to still come around to see them if you ever wanted.”

.           .           .

When you returned to university things started to feel better. You still got caught with feelings of dread and were reminded of the way you felt that night. Of course, Kit had apologized and that was really all you could ask for after it had all been said and done. But it didn’t stop you from zoning out in the shower with thoughts of putting your pink pearl choker on before you went to their home that night. The giddiness you felt beforehand that was torn away from you so viciously only hours later. Now you couldn’t even look at the necklace. It was tucked away in its soft velvet bag in your panties drawer.

And you couldn’t stop thinking of Harry either. You missed him a lot too. But that feeling was mixed with a confusing heartsickness. It wasn’t that you were in love with him or anything. But you had crushed on him for a while and got to experience him in bed and that was. You couldn’t describe it because you tried not to think about it too much. The more you dwelled on the way he handled you and looked at you, the way he spoke to you… it gave you shivers and the unfortunate thing was that you’d never have the pleasure to know that again.

But again, you weren’t in love or anything close to it. It was just a sense of loss more than anything. 

After your first month back at school was down you were invited out to a local bar with some of your classmates and friends. Something fun for everyone to let loose a little. And god did you deserve to blow off a little steam.

You would have preferred a club with some awful dancing and too much liquor, to be honest, but darts in a dark bar with pitchers of beer and friends sounded quite nice too.

Jax bought the first pitcher as the rest of you claimed a nice table close to the dart boards at the back of the bar. It was a Friday night so the place got packed not long after you’d arrived.

You lost badly at the first game which meant the next pitcher of beer was on you. You frowned exaggeratedly at the rule that the loser buys the beer, but the truth was that you were feeling amazing. It was nice to not be sitting at home thinking about things that you shouldn’t be. The distraction was welcome. Being out with friends was refreshing.

Waving at the bartender you placed the empty pitcher down and dug into your front pocket for some cash to pay your turn. But a sudden feeling came over you. Like you were being watched. Or noticed at least. You casually looked to your right and then to your left but you saw no one looking at you. And no one looked familiar.

“Another pitcher of beer?” The bartender asked, bringing your attention back to him.

“Oh! Yes, please.”

With that strange feeling crawling its way up your spine you turned slowly and looked back at your friends and then across the bar to the table next to the window.

You jolted and felt your scalp prick and fingertips sizzle when you made eye contact with him. Harry. He was seated at a high-top table. He appeared to be alone.

He lifted a hand in greeting before bringing it back down to grasp his pint and looked out the window.

You hadn’t even become unfrozen from the shock of seeing him by the time the bartender was back with your pitcher. You settled up with him and looked to where Harry was seated. He didn’t look back at you. You wondered how long he’d been there. Had he seen you before you walked up to the bar?

“Hey, here’s the pitcher,” you placed it at the center of the table. “I’m gonna sit this game out. Someone I know is here and I’m gonna go say hi.”

After refilling your glass you hesitantly made your way to Harry. The least you could do was say hi. You had wondered about him all this time and had been tempted to text him a time or two but never felt it was right.

“Hi.” You stood next to his table, at a safe distance in case he wasn’t interested in talking.

He pulled his gaze away from whatever he was looking at outside to you, “Hi, Y/n.”

“I was, uh, surprised to see you. I don’t want to bother you. I just–“

“Sit if you want,” he gestured at the other stool. So obviously you did, placing your glass on the table and keeping your eyes on him.

Harry took a sip of his beer and his eyes were as deep and full of warmth as ever.

“How have you been?” You asked. You didn’t really know what to say to him. Which was silly when you thought about it.

“Things are complicated at home. But I’m okay. How are you?”

You shrugged as you took a drink from your glass, “Good. School’s been good. Here for a night without worrying about homework and quizzes. Just needed a night out with some friends.”

He nodded and leaned forward, resting his forearms onto the lacquered wooden tabletop, caging in his beer, “I’ve wanted to text you to see how you were doing but figured you wouldn’t want to hear from me again after what happened.”

You pinched your brows together and shook your head, “That’s not… I wish you would have. I wanted to text you a few times too. Just to check-in. I’ve missed you guys.”

“The boys really miss you. They talk about you still. I mean…” he rotated his arm so his palm was face up in a passive gesture, “it hasn’t been that long since– well, anyway.”

You smiled, “I miss them a lot. Hey, did Warner ever finish learning that song on the piano you were teaching him? He was doing so well learning the parts. I kind of hoped to hear him complete it but then…” you didn’t dare finish that sentence.

Harry grinned. It was the first genuine smile you’d seen from him since you approached him.

“Yeah. He’s pretty much got it down now. I’m really proud of him. He’s gonna be starting guitar and singing lessons soon. He wants to learn so he can start a band with some friends so I encouraged him to take lessons.”

“Takes after his father. Musically talented.” You gleamed at Harry.

Harry gulped the lump down his throat. He had really missed you around. But he’d been quite caught up in the aftermath of that night with Kit ever since. That night had changed everything.

“Ahh, I just dabble. Warner has real natural talent.”

You couldn’t be sure but you thought the apples of his cheeks were turning a shade pinker than they had been.

“I’ve heard you play the piano and sing. I’d say you have plenty of natural talent, Harry.”

You meant it too. He had a beautiful voice full of dark timbre and vibrant airy notes. And of course, he was so confident when he sang that if he had told you he made an album and played for audiences in sold-out venues you would have believed it.

“That’s nice to hear. Thank you, Y/n,” you watched a dimple slowly work its way deeper into his cheek as his smile widened. It was nice to see him smile.

You both sat quietly for a bit looking out the window at the dark street as cars drove by,  headlamps beaming over the dark asphalt. You wondered if you should press him more about how he really was. You could tell something was off. He wasn’t as happy as he normally was. And when he told you things were complicated at home you figured it had something to do with Kit.

“We’re getting divorced,” he said defeatedly as he stared out the window.

“What? Why?”

Harry took a deep breath and looked at you, “She wants more than I can give her. She needs to be with women, she said. And…” he gulped and looked back out the window, “… she said she couldn’t ever look at me the same after that night. Said I’d never be able to have that with her.”

You kept your brows pinched together as you listened to him. It broke your heart that things had fallen apart for them. That it had all been too much.

“But I thought you two were happy. There was never any indication before that something was wrong.”

He nodded, “I thought so too. But she couldn’t get passed it and she said she’d been thinking about it for a long time. Before we even thought of having you join,” he glanced at you before looking down at his glass, “She’s been needing something else for a while. I never knew. I thought it was enough. I knew she missed women and that kind of softness in bed but I had no idea that it affected her so much. To me, her confession was sudden. But supposedly she’s been keeping it in for a long time.”

Without even thinking you reached out and grabbed his hand, “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

Harry looked down at your small hand covering his and up to your eyes, “She said that when she apologized to you she felt free to finally be herself. I was blindsided. Then last week she told me she was going to go on a date with a woman she’s known for years. Ripped me right half. She was gone all night. But I mean, our marriage is over anyway.”

You gently smoothed your thumb over his knuckles and kept your eyes on his face.

“So I offered her a divorce and told her I can’t tolerate her dating someone if I’m not involved somehow. She understood that. She told me she hoped I would find someone,” he paused as he sighed to collect his words so they didn’t come out as a surprise to you, “…with whom I could have the kind of chemistry she saw that night between us.”

You didn’t know how to respond. Or if you should. You were well aware of the way you and Harry connected and how natural everything felt with him. But at the same time, you never thought it was much more than just good chemistry. You couldn’t allow yourself to think of it as more than that.

“Anyway, she’s at home with the boys and I needed to get out and breathe. Figured I’d have a beer or two and then go back home. Sleep in the guest room like I have been. We’re still trying to figure out how to tell the kids.”

You nodded softly, “That’s awful, Harry. I don’t know what to say except I’m so sorry.”

Harry breathed out a laugh through his nostrils and shook his head, “You don’t need to pity me. I’m sad but I’ll be okay. It’s better anyway, I think in the end. She wasn’t fulfilled and part of me knows I wasn’t either. We could have made it work but I don’t think she’d have been happy for much longer. It was only a matter of time I suppose.”

“Y/n! Next game’s about to start. You wanna join?” Arla suddenly interrupted.

You turned to look at her and back to Harry, “This is Harry, and Harry, this is my friend Arla. She and I have two classes together.”

Harry smiled at your friend and looked at you, “I’m just about to finish up. You go and enjoy your night off with your friends.”

You didn’t want to part ways with Harry yet. It felt like you needed to sit with him longer. So you turned to Arla, “I’m gonna pass. But you guys go ahead!”

“Are you sure?” She looked from you to Harry and back to you again.

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

When she walked off Harry grabbed your hand, “You don’t have to pity me I said. I’m okay, really. I know this has to be boring for you to sit here listening to me whine about my life. You should go.”

Shaking your head you frowned, “I didn’t want to go, Harry. Thought maybe if you’re leaving anyway I could walk you out. Hug you goodbye. I don’t know when I’ll ever see you again. Or if I see you again…”

Harry tilted his head and nodded, “Okay. Deal. I’ll settle up and be right back.”

You watched Harry make his way to the bar and get his credit card back from the bartender. He was achingly attractive, even doing absolutely nothing, he was the most attractive man you’d ever laid eyes on. And far and away the kindest.

When he returned you stood from the stool and he gestured for you to lead the way to the door. The night air was warm as you turned to look up at Harry.

“I’m parked just up the street,” he jutted his chin in the direction of his car, “It was really nice to see you–“

“I’ll walk with you to your car,” you rushed the words out. You weren’t ready for him to leave. You were certain you’d never see him again and that thought was scarier than insisting you walk him to his car. Maybe just being near him for a few extra moments would make you feel better.

Silently you both walked side by side down the sidewalk toward his car. And when you got to his spot he smiled down at you, “Did you drive here?”

You shook your head, “Shared an Uber with two of my friends.”

He nodded, “Well, Y/n…” he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around your shoulders and you pulled your arms around his middle and smushed your face against his chest. He squeezed you tight and you squeezed back.

You felt his breath at your temple, “God I’m gonna miss you.”

You tilted your head back to look up at him, “I’m gonna miss you too, Harry.”

The streetlamp that cast the smallest bit of light from across the street flickered off and then sputtered back on again as you kept your eyes locked with Harry’s. You’d miss his eyes and his cologne and how nice he was to you. It felt wrong to simply let him leave.

“Y/n…” Harry spoke softly as he brought a hand up to your face, his fingers slid behind your ear and his thumb caressed your cheekbone, “Can I have one more kiss? If it’s okay?”

Nodding your head you felt his hand pull your face closer to his. He pressed his nose against yours as you fluttered your eyes shut and then felt his lips gently move over yours.

And something inside of you felt like it’d been unlocked as you opened your mouth and let him slip his tongue inside, to which you pressed yours against his and heard him moan.

You gripped his shirt tight and felt him push your back into his car as he caged you in with his arms and his hips pressed against yours. It had all happened so fast but your head was spinning and you both were lost in each other with a hungry kiss and wet lips.

He moved his hand to your neck and wrapped his palm around the front of your throat, keeping his lips attached to yours before he parted with a soft gasp, “Want to hear you say it just one more time f’me, sweet girl. What do you call me?”

You closed your eyes and felt the tips of his fingers squeezing gently at the side of your neck. You knew exactly what he was asking.

“Daddy,” you breathed before you felt his warm lips slot between yours again. He moaned deeply and you clung to his back in hopes of him staying. You didn’t want this to be it.

When you shifted your hips he lowered a hand to your thigh and pulled it upward, tucking himself in closer.

It turned out, that one more kiss wasn’t just any old kiss. Wasn’t just something you could pull away from once his lips smeared against yours, once his tongue lapped against your tongue. You held him tight through his shirt and he kept your thigh hitched over his hip and his hand at your neck as his mouth moved with yours under the flickering streetlamp.

When he pulled back and looked down at you, you tightened your fingers around his shirt, “Do you want to come over? To my place?” You couldn’t let the moment getaway. Couldn’t let Harry just leave like that. You also couldn’t believe you’d asked him over. But it was that or watch him drive away and never see him again.

Harry pulled his hand off your neck and softly tucked his fingers to the back of your head, “Really?”

You nodded and raised your brows, suddenly feeling the heat of embarrassment, “If you want. I mean you don’t–“

Your words were swallowed by Harry’s mouth over yours again. Soft lips and wet tongue making you ache and filling you with just enough gall to ask for what you’d wanted. And that was to have him in your apartment. Alone. You just wanted a little bit more. Before it was all over and forgotten and in the past. Before the moment was just something you’d look back on in the future with a tinge of sadness but with a smile on your face.

Harry opened his passenger side door for you to get inside and you texted Jax quickly explaining your sudden absence with an apology. You could explain to your friends later.

You felt Harry scoop your hand into his as he started his car and pulled out into the street. The song on the radio had just come to an end and a commercial began to play, “You’ll have to remind me of your address,” Harry glanced at you before looking back at the street.

“Oh! Yeah! Of course. Um… Just take this street to Caldwell and take a right and then we’ll go to the bridge and merge onto the highway but you’ll only be on for one exit and then the first right off the access road. Then it’s like two miles and the apartments are on the left.”

Harry laughed, “Maybe you can tell me as we approach where I need to turn. I’m a little wound up right now. Might not remember all that,” he grinned.

You were feeling your nerves begin to bubble with each mile closer to your apartment. But Harry was trying to keep you calm, you could tell.

“So, you told me once you don’t have roommates. Is that still the case?”

You nodded and looked at his handsome side profile, “Yeah. No roommates. It’s only a one bedroom. My uncle is the apartment manager and so I get rent super cheap otherwise I wouldn’t be able to have a place on my own.” “That’s nice. Looking forward to seeing it.”

Biting your lip you looked out the window and felt a pinch of anxiety. You knew what was probably about to happen and you’d welcome it! But then after that what? Would he stick around? Would you see him again? Would Kit be mad?

“What are your plans for tomorrow, Y/n?”

You released your bottom lip from your teeth, “I have a paper due on Monday so I planned on getting my sources and starting the outline. I have it mostly written but now I need to back up what I’m saying and that means I’ll probably wind up needing to rewrite some portions. But that’s my plan for tomorrow and Sunday. Get that finished up. What about you?” You looked back at him as you asked.

“Tomorrow afternoon I’m taking the boys to that Science and Play place. Not sure if you ever heard of it?” He peeked at you quickly.

“I have! I’ve actually been there,” you laughed and Harry softly rubbed his thumb along yours.

“William loves it. He’s been begging to go back. And they have a restaurant there so we’ll make a whole afternoon of it. Let the boys explore. Kit’s going out tomorrow and I don’t want the boys to see her getting all dressed up so I’m going to stay out of the house with them as long as possible.”

You nodded, “That makes sense. I’m sorry, Harry.”

He shook his head, “Don’t be. I’m suddenly not feeling so down about it all right now,” he squeezed your hand as you directed him onto the highway.

You smiled to yourself at his comment and understood what he meant exactly.

After Harry parked in the guest parking spot, you led him to your apartment up a flight of metal stairs to the second floor. You were normally very tidy and neat but you’d been a bit out of sorts since that fateful night and plus getting back into the swing of the new semester meant you had a few things strewn about which all came into view once you turned on the light.

“Sorry about the mess,” you gestured at your couch and the small chair next to it with your clothes draped over the arms.

But Harry didn’t seem to care as he pulled you into his arms and cupped your face, bringing his lips down to yours. You kissed him back with as much heat as he was putting into the kiss. You grasped onto the lats of his back as he moved you with him slowly until he pulled you into his lap on the couch and your fervor only increased.

You ran your fingers into his hair as he kissed his way down your jaw and then to your neck, pecking gently along the front of your throat and back up to your lips, “Loved when you wore that little pearl choker.”

He drew his hands along the outside of your jeans-clad thighs and you pulled away to look at his beautiful face, “I still have it.”

“Mmm… It goes with your innocent act so perfectly,” he grinned, “But I know you’re not innocent, baby. Far from it.”

You could feel his breath against your lips as he spoke and you felt that recognizable hardness under his pants.

“Why don’t you go put that pretty thing on your neck for Daddy and take off everything else?”

You were quick to push yourself off his lap and go into your bedroom. You smiled as you pulled the choker from its velvet bag and happily put it back onto your neck. You thought you’d never want it on again, but if Harry wanted it on, you would absolutely wear it.

You pulled your shirt off and began to unbutton your pants before pushing them down your legs. You hadn’t done much upkeep on yourself other than just shaving around your bikini line to keep it neat, but you knew better than to start rethinking everything now. If you had a bit of a bush so be it. You were mostly certain Harry wouldn’t mind.

When you unhooked your bra Harry was standing in your doorway watching you. His hands slowly undoing the buttons on his shirt as he watched you peel your panties down your legs.

His shirt hung open as he stepped in front of you and cupped your face. His eyes wandered over your breasts and up to your choker before setting them back on your face, “Do you know how hard you make me, Y/n? This little thing on your neck,” he lowered his thumb to the pearls and pressed on it, “…these sexy lips,” he dipped in and kissed you as he lowered both hands to your tits, “…and these gorgeous breasts.”

You smoothed your hands over his warm chest as his mouth covered yours with lazy, sloppy kisses.

“Want you to bend over the bed. Show me that pretty ass. I think you need a little spanking for making Daddy wait a month and a half to see you again.”

You moaned and then swallowed as you turned around and draped your upper half over your unmade bed, baring your full ass to him.

You felt his hands cupping your bottom and smoothing up and down to your thighs as he cooed at you, “God damn, baby. Look at you. So fucking sweet and naughty for me,” the first strike against your bottom came unexpectedly and immediately after he spoke.

He brought his other palm down on your other side and you yelped and turned to look at him over your shoulder.

He lifted his gaze from your bum to your eyes and smirked at you as he smacked you again. You dropped your mouth open and groaned when he did it again and again until you squeezed your eyes closed and stuffed your face into the mattress as he left stinging handprints on your backside.

When you felt him move away you lifted and turned to look at him behind you as he removed his clothes. He watched you with dark eyes, his sight moving from your bum to your face, “On your knees. Face me,” he motioned for you to move.

You brought yourself to your knees and looked up at him, your eyes big and round and sweet. He licked his lips and ran his knuckles over your temple, “Gotta burn this image into my brain. The sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He stroked himself slowly, his cock was already fully thickened and mouthwatering. You looked from his big dick up to his face as he dragged a soft thumb over your lips. He pressed his thumb into your mouth and you opened up for him.

“Keep your mouth open like this,” he pressed down on your tongue, making your jaw widen, “There we go. Need space for me in there. You want Daddy’s cock inside your mouth?”

You nodded and gurgled a yes which made him grin proudly, “I know you do. You like having your face fucked, don’t you? Little naughty girl desperate to choke and make Daddy happy.”

“Yes. Please…” you panted and opened your mouth wider for him.

Harry smeared his cock over your lips. His warm tip dragged against the soft skin of your mouth as you poked your tongue out to dab at his slit.

“Go on then. Suck.” He prodded himself forward a bit and you wrapped your lips around his smooth tip and grasped at this base. Swirling your tongue around the skin under his crown you pushed yourself down on him and pulled back, sucking in and dragging your tongue along the way before edging back down again, trying to get him as deep as possible.

You’d given head before. You had never much enjoyed it. Felt it was more a means to an end sometimes. But with Harry standing over you and cradling the back of your head, his eyes on your mouth as you took him on your tongue you realized you loved giving head. Maybe it was just Harry, though. Maybe you only loved sucking his cock because it was attached to him and you wanted to please him in every way you possibly could.

“Fuck,” Harry moaned breathily as you looked up at him with your puffy lips parted around him, moving up and down, sucking and licking, hollowing your cheeks every time you pulled back to his tip just before pushing him further into your mouth.

When you put a hand on his ball sac and softly rolled it in your palm Harry threw his head back and panted breathily, “Oh my god, baby.”

You continued your work as your eyes became blurred with tears and your chin wet with drool. You stuffed yourself down over him until his tip was poked into your throat and you gagged around him. When you repeated that move, causing you to swallow around him and gag lightly, still gently massaging his balls he pulled you off and lifted you to stand up.

“Enough for now. Think you’ve earned a reward for that.” He gently walked you backward to your bed and then gestured for you to get on just as he climbed on and pulled you over his lap again. Harry laid down, bringing you with him, and kissed you. You could feel his solid, damp cock against your pussy as you kissed him and he groped your bottom, moving you up and down against him slowly, your pussylips pushed apart and dragged over his cock.

Suddenly he pushed at you, making you sit upright, your hands on his pecs as he cupped your tits in his hands, “I want you to ride my face. Get yourself off.”

You laughed and looked at him, “How should I…”

But you let out a small squeak as he pulled at you and dragged you up his chest and over his face, gripping onto your hips and making you settle your pussy over his lips. He began kissing and licking right away, his eyes on you.

“Ohhh…” you placed your hands on the top of the headboard as you looked down and watched Harry under you. It felt so good having him naked in your bed. Having his eyes on you. Having his hands on your ass. His lips on your pussy.

You slowly tilted your hips forward and felt the sparkle of your clit being pressed into his mouth. Harry held you down tight and lapped at you, concentrating on your clit as he sucked on it.

Harry’s fingers dug into your soft bum and you felt as he moved one hand, reaching further back and dipping a finger into your pussy before smearing your arousal up and over your anus. You gasped as you stared down at his eyes. He softly circled the spot as he continued working on your clit with his mouth.

You’d never had anything done to your bottom before, but if Harry wanted to, you’d let him. You were pretty much all yes and please when it came to him anyway. You’d happily let him do what he wanted.

But he never pressed in. He only pushed at your hole and circled over the outside with a wet finger and it had you reeling.

“Daddy, oh my god!”

Harry moved his hand away and put it back on your hips so he could pull you down and move you back and forth over his face. You felt like you were in such a vulnerable position, naked, sitting on his mouth the way you were. There was part of you that worried you were crushing him but he only pulled you against his mouth harder, his brows furrowing as he tried to draw an orgasm out of you.

He moaned against your clit and drew it into his mouth, letting his tongue flick against it. The little wet noises coming from his mouth against you sounded dirty with the backdrop of your loud moaning.

Sometimes you were able to force an orgasm from yourself if you held your vibrator against your clit. Even if you weren’t worked up at all. Just for a quick release.

But you were definitely worked up with Harry. Wet and puffy and the way he was mouthing and pulling at your clit with his lips you couldn’t stop your climax even if you wanted to. It dripped from your cunt all over his mouth as you loudly cried out. Your thighs quivered around his head as you leaned forward and felt wave after wave of your release.

Harry kept his hands tight on you, holding you close so he could make sure you were feeling everything he gave you.

“Fffffuuuu!” You were feeling overwhelmed as he continued sucking you in and holding you down over him. You whined and tried lifting your hips up but he swatted at your ass before gripping your thigh and doubling down on your clit.

“Oooh ssssshhit! Ffuck!” You were trembling uncontrollably as you white-knuckled the headboard and looked down at the scene of the crime. Harry’s head between your thighs with his eyes on yours and his wet nose was lewd.

But then something snapped and the overwhelming feeling started to melt into yet another orgasm that was drawn from you without warning. You cried and whimpered as Harry let go of your thighs and put his hands at your waist to keep you steady. Your whole body trembled as you tried to hold onto the headboard but you were feeling out of your mind and blurry.

When he moved you to your back you were still coming down from the back-to-back orgasms and your brain was trying to fight its way back to the surface of clarity and awareness. Harry lay next to you and kissed your neck, his fingers trailing up your tummy and over your breasts and to your little choker, “You okay, Y/n?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Your chest was still rising and falling heavily as you nodded, “I’m so good.”

You felt Harry’s thigh draped over the tops of yours as he trailed soft kisses up your neck and to your jaw, “You are so good.”

Reaching across your body you placed your fingers in Harry’s hair, “I want you to come, Daddy.”

Harry laughed out a puff of breath against your jaw and lifted his face to look at you, “Oh you do? You’re so sweet, honey,” his voice came out raspy and deep as he kneed his way between your legs, pushing your thighs apart and fitting himself comfortably over you, pulling at your knees to bend them up so your feet were flat.

He smiled down at you, breaking the lusty moment, “You don’t happen to have a condom do you?”

You thought for a moment. You were sure you didn’t, “I don’t really think I do. But,” you gulped and flexed your fingers nervously into the skin of his back, “I’m on birth control, so…”

Harry pursed his lips in pause as he kept his eyes on yours, “Okay,” he dipped down to kiss you, “You sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure. Want to feel you,” you nodded.

You were still so wet between your legs. You could feel Harry’s length easily slide against your pussy as he shifted himself down and pressed the top of his thighs into the back of yours, pushing your legs up slightly.

He placed his forearms down on the bed, caging you in, and pressed his mouth to yours softly. You felt him nudging at your opening so you lifted your hips, pushing against him as his tongue licked at the crease of your lips. The moment you felt his bulbous tip press through the tight muscle of your opening you gasped, dropping your mouth wide open. The feel of him entering you slowly with the weight of his hips against yours had you melting.

“That feels so good, doesn’t it baby?”

You whimpered with a nod, “Yes, Daddy…”

“Fuck I can hear how wet you are for me,” he pulled back and then pressed in. “Gonna make me come so hard, sweet girl.”

The deeper he went in the more you felt your body floating away. There was no question that Harry had a big dick. And you knew he was aware of this as well because he was gentle with you as he inched his way in and pulled back slowly.

When he’d finally poked in as deep as possible and his balls were tucked into your ass he sloppily kissed you as he began to fuck into you with slow and languid strokes. Gushy and hot and unforgiving. Even as slow as he was going every time his head nudged into your cervix you hissed into his mouth. But there was something about the little ache that you loved. Probably because it was Harry.

His pelvis dragged against your clit every time he pushed in and you felt his hand clutch the back of your neck as he licked into your mouth.

Your pussy was so full. So happy. You could feel yourself open and stretch around him. It had your head spinning.

Harry grunted as he lifted himself and softly pressed his nose against yours, “Feel that, baby? Feel Daddy’s cock sliding inside of your tight pussy? You’re gripping me so good.”

His slow rhythmic thrusts grew faster as he let go of the back of your neck and pushed himself up, palms on the mattress. His plunges were deeper and stronger and his thighs and back were flexing as he worked himself in and out, faster little by little.

“Shit! Daddy!” You shakily yelped at the faster cadence and the way he was now punching into your cervix, “It’s so fucking deep,” you gritted your teeth and threw your neck back.

“Is it too deep for your little pussy, honey? Huh?” He rutted his hips in as he asked, punctuating what he meant.

You inhaled sharply when he plunged in again, grinding his hips against yours and stuffing himself into the hilt, “Oh my god, yes! But I need it!”

Harry groaned as kept himself balls deep and sat back onto his haunches, grabbing onto your thighs to keep you in place.

With his hands at the back of your knees, he began to slide into you in long, heavy strokes until he was smacking into you just enough that your tits were bouncing and your bed was creaking in time with his thrusts.

Harry licked his thumb and lowered it to your clit which had you jolting with a small cry. Your clit was super sensitive after the way he’d handled you moments earlier.

He watched his cock move through your hole, your pussy wrapped around him tight and coating him in your cream. He moaned as his thumb was lathered in your arousal from how he was slipping it back and forth over your puffy clit.

Your small grunts and squeaks increased the wetter you got and the harder the mattress bounced under you. The patting of his skin against yours was rhythmic and bumped you upward every time he slammed into you.

You started to see stars, you could swear it as your limbs began to tingle and disintegrate. Harry was grunting and moaning at the view of your pussy wrapped around him tight and the way it felt to be swallowed by you, warm and wet and clenching.

Harry gasped and paused his strokes as he breathed heavily. His chest was red as leaned back over you and kissed you so sweetly it took your breath away. You both moaned in synch as your tongues wound around each other and wet lips slobbered together when he began to drill into you again, slower but with muscle.

You started to quiver with his chest pressed to yours and his cock deep inside of you, his pelvis grinding against yours.

“There you go… let me feel that pussy coming. Oh, baby that feels good doesn’t it,” he rutted into you as he spoke against your lips.

You nearly howled with your third orgasm. It was one thing to come from clitoral stimulation but quite another to have your clit being smeared into while having a big cock nudging in and out of you as you lost control of all functions.

Harry watched your face as you scrunched your brow and chanted Daddy and he drove into you in solid, squelching plunges. His cock made its way over your spongy insides repeatedly, hitting that one spot with his big crown over and over again until you were spent. Done for. There was nothing left for you to give.

Harry kissed you softly, stuffing himself into you gently, and moaned, “M’gonna come baby but I’m gonna pull out okay? Where do you want it sweet girl?”

You peeled your eyes open and exhaled softly, “In my mouth. Let me have it in my mouth, Daddy,” you nodded as you gripped his shoulders.

Harry stopped his motions and looked at you, almost as if in awe as he ticked his head back in forth like he was in disbelief, “Yeah?”

You nodded as he plunged in a few more times, pressing you upward, his eyes on yours as his moaning progressively got softer and you swore whiney even.

He pushed himself up and pulled out, taking his cock in his hand and pumping himself, smoothing your creamy arousal around his shaft and smothering his palm. He took his other hand and pulled you up by your neck and brought your mouth over his cock as he sat back onto his haunches.

You quickly lowered your mouth over him, tasting your juices as you sucked him in and then felt him begin to release down your throat in spurts. He coughed out a loud groan as he rutted upward, his tip slipping down your throat with his hand at the back of your head, “Fuck!” He panted and you felt his thighs shaking as he rolled his hips upward.

You swallowed and gurgled him down the best you could, gripping the base of his shaft in your hand and sucking while swirling your tongue around him until his cock stopped throbbing and pumping and he was softly gasping and breathing.

You licked your way up and popped your mouth off of him but you were in a daze.

Harry smoothed his lips against yours and easily laid you down on your back, “Just lay here and rest. I’ll be right back sweetheart.”

You closed your eyes and hummed to yourself at the taste in your mouth and the way your body was buzzing with satisfaction.

Opening your eyes just as Harry walked back into the room he was buck naked, cock swinging, chest slightly damp, and impossibly strong thighs. A god really. You’d never get over his body.

He held a glass of water out to you and had brought in a damp towel to wipe you up. You sat up to take a few gulps of water before he delicately pushed you to lie back down. The towel was warm and it felt so good on your sensitive skin.

Harry laid next to you and kissed your cheek and then nuzzled into your neck, his hot breath falling over your skin, “You’re amazing, baby. I’m never gonna forget tonight. So good for me.”

You sighed and turned to face him as he gently dabbed between your legs, “Kiss me, Daddy.”

His grin made the edges of his eyes crinkle, “Happily.” He pressed his mouth against yours and you both kissed soft and lazy as he tossed the damp towel to your floor and wrapped you in his arms.

You couldn’t be sure of how he kissed you but when he was helping you out of bed and speaking softly to you about having a bath with him so he could hold you longer you felt wobbly still.

With your eyes closed and your back against his chest in the warm water, he started talking. And as you felt more aware and conscious you realized he was sort of spilling his guts to you.

“I was so sad when I woke up this morning. But seeing you and all this,” he squeezed your arms, “I think I can breathe now. You made everything feel better, Y/n.”

You listened closely as he continued, his chest vibrating as he spoke, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night. And I realized something too. Tonight. Just now. I think Kit was right. You and I do really have good chemistry. We fit so well together don’t we?”

You hummed and nodded with a small smile on your face.

He sighed and pulled his arms around you, “Don’t want this night to end. Want to just stay here with you, holding you like this.”

Your heart began to pound as you started to feel his words. You knew what he meant and you felt it. You could feel his scruff on your temple as he rubbed his face in toward yours, “You feeling better now?”

You nodded and turned toward his face, “Yes. So much better. You make me feel so good.”

Harry slowly blinked as he kept his gaze on yours, “You make me feel so good too.”

When the water grew tepid Harry wrapped you in a towel and tightly hugged you as he walked you to your room and made you drink more water.

He took your towel off and helped you into your bed and pulled your blankets over your naked body before he began to pick up his clothes from the floor.

You pouted and sat up, “Please don’t go. Will you stay here tonight? I need you here with me. I think I just…” you felt tears in your eyes as you looked upward to will them away.

Harry dropped his pants to the floor and sat on your bed, cupping your face to look at you, “I didn’t want to assume you wanted me to stay. But I’ll stay tonight. I’d love to stay with you.

So he did. He held you in his arms, pet your back, and kissed your forehead until you had drifted away into a deep sleep.

The morning was slow with the first bit of sun shining through the cracks of your window. You were burning hot in Harry’s arms so you poked your head up and breathed as you wiggled out of his hold.

“Where you going?” His groggy morning voice was too sexy to make sense.

“I have to pee,” you laughed as he released your wrist and you quickly padded to your bathroom.

When you got back into your room Harry was already dressed and running a hand through his hair as he looked at himself in your mirror.

Turning to face you he grinned at your Pokemon robe, “Cute. You’re always so fucking cute, Y/n.”

You looked down at the robe and shrugged at him with a small smile.

“I have to go. I hate to leave so quickly but I’ve got to get home to the boys and get them ready for our little outing today.”

You nodded, “Yeah. That’s okay. I understand.”

Harry tilted his head as he stepped in front of you and pulled you in for a hug. It felt like one of those this-is-it hugs. It felt so final.

“Y/n,” Harry pulled back to look at you, “You’re amazing. If you ever need anything or just want to say hi, you know how to reach me.”

You walked him to your door and watched as he made his way down the steps and out of your sight. Your final view of the only man you were sure you’d never get over.

.           .           .

“This is cute,” your cousin reached out to touch your pink pearl choker as you stuffed your bag with clothes.

You paused what you were doing and placed your fingers over the necklace with a smile, “Thank you.”

The necklace gave you warm and happy memories now. As much as you wished something could have happened between you and Harry you knew that just wasn’t possible. He was going through a divorce, had kids, a broken heart… But your last night together had mended you wholly. You knew it was something you’d never forget and you were grateful to him. You just hoped that maybe it did him some good too. Maybe it was something he took with him that made him smile like it did you.

The days and weeks after had been hard for you. Often you’d pick up your phone and compose a text, only to read it over and over again before deleting it. It was hard to let him go completely but now it was Christmas Eve and you felt like you were on the other side of it. Mostly. You still thought of him every day but it was easier.

“You have such good taste. You’ll have to go with me shopping sometime.” Chandy spoke as she plopped down on your bed next to your bag.

“That sounds fun actually.”

Chandy had come over to your apartment to pick you up since she lived so close. You were heading to her family home an hour out of the city. It was tradition for the whole family to get together at your aunt and uncle’s lake home. It was gorgeous in the winter with their soaring windows and snow all around.

You stacked presents into two grocery bags and slung your overnight bag over your shoulder, “Ready?”

“Yes! First, I have to use your bathroom then we’ll hit the road.” Chandy rushed off.

You sat on the edge of the arm of your couch and pulled out your phone to see a text that had your heart squeezing and throbbing.

It was a picture of Harry and the boys in front of a Christmas tree and his text read:

Merry Christmas, Y/n. We miss you!

You quickly typed out a response.

Merry Christmas! I miss you guys so much!

You placed your hand over your heart to calm yourself and the sudden rush of all your feelings you thought had begun to fade away came rushing back.

You closed your eyes after you watched your sent text go from delivered to read.

When you opened your eyes and saw that he was typing something your entire body grew hot as you stared intently at your phone.

“Okay! Ready!” Chandy chirped.

You stood up with your phone in your hand, “Uh, I’m gonna just go to the bathroom too real quick!”

You closed the bathroom door and felt the vibration from an incoming text. A wide grin on your face.

What are you doing for New Year’s?

As fast as your fingers allowed you responded.

No plans. What about you?

It was the longest wait while you watched the bouncing dots stop and restart. A full minute of waiting as you flushed the toilet (to pretend you’d been using it so Chandy didn’t wonder) and then washed your hands, staring at your screen.

The boys and I will be making a very “special” dinner and then we’ll ring in the New Year with sparkling grape juice and The Poseidon Adventure. They each invited a friend and told me I had to invite someone too.

Drying your hands off, you bit your lip and typed.

That sounds so fun. Who will you invite?

You chuckled to yourself. You were almost certain he was inviting you but you couldn’t be sure until you saw his response.

I’m inviting YOU. Wasn’t it obvious? ; )

Well, in that case, I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it. <3

.           .           .

You had no idea what to expect for New Year’s but you and Harry hadn’t stopped texting since he reached out. The whole time you were with your family on Christmas you kept your phone by your side so you wouldn’t miss a single message.

You dressed casually for the New Year’s Eve party at Harry’s because there were going to be 4 ten-year-old boys there. And you learned the “special” dinner they were making was grilled cheese sandwiches, French fries, and for dessert chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. It honestly sounded amazing.

You also learned that Kit had moved out, leaving the house to Harry and they were on very good terms. They would split custody of the boys 50 / 50. And that technically they were still married but the divorce was moving along quickly because there were very few things that needed to be worked out. They seemed to be on the same page.

You parked in the street in front of the Styles house and noticed lights strung up on the columns of the porch and a Christmas wreath on the front door.

The moment you closed the door to your car you saw the front door open and Warner and William busted out and ran toward you, “Y/n!! You came!” – “Dad said you were coming!”

They both hugged you, one on each side and you could have cried. You hadn’t seen them since August and it was already December. You felt like they’d grown bigger in those few months.

They started to pull you toward the house but you laughed and stopped, “Hold on! I have presents for everyone in the car I have to get.”

You opened your trunk and pulled out two bags that had presents inside and when you closed it Harry was there in the yard watching you with a soft grin. You felt blood rush to the apples of your cheeks at the sight of him and your heart throbbed in your chest.

“Hi, Y/n,” his dimples winked awake and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he stepped forward to take your bags, handing one to Warner and one to William, “Take these inside and pour Y/n a glass of the New Year’s mocktail we made. We’ll be right in.”

You clasped your hands behind your back as you let your eyes fall over his outfit. He was wearing a red chunky knit sweater with a big green Christmas tree in the center that had gold and silver balls all over it, “Love the sweater.”

Harry looked down at it and back at you, “Love that you’re here.”

The heat that spread over your face stretched down your neck and your back as he stepped in closer. He was far too handsome for his own good and all the memories you had with him were flooding your brain with inappropriate thoughts but also with fondness and excitement.

“Thank you for inviting me.” You looked up at him as he stood directly in front of you.

Harry stared down at you for a moment, his eyes blinking and his pink lips twitching tremulously, “I know I look ridiculous in this,” he gestured at his sweater looking down at it and then back at you, “and this isn’t the most romantic reunion but I wanted to ask you before the festivities started if you’d like to go on a date with me tomorrow night?”

Your lips parted as the question floated around in the air between you two. You couldn’t believe he was asking you on a date.

“A date? Like…” You bit your lip and looked down at the ground and back up at Harry, “A date date?”

Harry smiled widely and nodded, “A date date.”

You exhaled a small laugh and nodded, “Harry, I’d love that. Yes.”

Suddenly his arms were wound around your middle and you squealed as he lifted you from the ground and spun you in his arms. The moment your feet hit the grass he gave you a quick kiss, cupping your face in his hands, and then parted as he looked back at the house.

Harry let you go and smirked at you as he took your hand to lead you to the house whispering, “Now I know this sweater is pure sex but you’re just gonna have to keep your hands to yourself tonight.”

You laughed and squeezed his hand, “It’s gonna be hard but I think I can behave.”

Harry stopped and turned his face toward you, his warm mouth at your ear, “Y/n, I’m so glad you’re here.”

A/N: I hope you guys loved this! Let me know your thoughts please!!

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[lovesickforhim]

2. The Unicorn | nanny!yn

Unicorn: An individual who is willing to join an existing romantic relationship. Usually a bisexual female.

Summary: The night has arrived and things are going really well for all three of you until suddenly they're not.

A/N: This will be 3 parts. Based on this and this.

Word Count: 10k+

Warning: 18+ only, smut, jealousy, angst, hurt feelings, daddy kink

Part 1 Here

When you left, Harry walked back inside his house feeling like a new man. He felt real. He felt strong and virile. He didn’t know what had come over him being so direct with you. So rapacious. But it felt natural. It was like something about you brought it out of him.

It wasn’t until he was sitting at the table with the boys eating dinner that any little inkling of guilt started to wash over him. It was then he realized he hadn’t even thought about Kit since he started making dinner. He was conjuring up images in his mind of what you would look like on Saturday in various positions. Imagined the way your eyes would widen and then squeeze close when you orgasmed. Wondered how many he could coax out of you. He’d completely blocked out that his wife would be participating.

He would need to tame himself. See how Kit responded to seeing you and him together. If she enjoyed it he could loosen up a little but he was concerned about the way you two clicked. Your dynamic was very good, Harry thought, that he would have a hard time sharing you. Plus, he wasn’t sure whether or not Kit would like to hear you calling him Daddy. And Harry really wanted to hear you call him Daddy again.

When his wife got home the twins were already in bed and Harry was in the master bedroom reading, “So how did it go?” She asked him as she plucked her heels off, placing her palm on their dresser to balance herself.

“It was good. Why don’t you get ready for bed and then we can talk about everything that happened?”

Harry had decided he’d play down what had happened between you two. He’d be honest but he wouldn’t divulge some of his innermost thoughts. The parts where he forgot all about his wife and how your soft and docile demeanor was refreshing and made him feel masculine and wide awake all of a sudden. No. He wouldn’t share that much with her.

Kit turned off the ceiling light and turned on her lamp before climbing into bed with Harry, “So, tell me how it went.”

“Yeah. It was good. She was very open. She said she wanted to join us on Saturday for sure.”

Kit nodded, “And? Did you two kiss or anything?”

Harry’s heart began to lob in his chest at the idea that he was going to tell his wife what he’d done with another woman. Kit seemed fine. She insisted she was but Harry still felt unease about how to handle this situation gracefully. Without anyone getting hurt.

“Yeah, we did. Brought her into the bedroom, here so the kids didn’t see. Kissed her and then got her clothes off, fingered her,” he inhaled softly and felt his cheeks glow and his chest burn. “That was it.”

Kit grinned and slid in close to Harry, smoothing her palm under his shirt, “Yeah? I wish I could have seen it. Did she come?”

Harry puffed out a laugh of disbelief. Maybe he was fretting for nothing. Perhaps his guilt had been needless. Maybe Kit was right. Maybe this would be really good for them.

“Yes.” He looked down at where his wife’s hand was traveling.

“And did you come?”

“No. I kept all my clothes on when I was with her and then when she left I had to get dinner for the boys and I was with them until I finally got into bed a bit ago.”

Kit palmed over his crotch, “You poor man. You did so good for me today, baby.” She kissed his lips, “You deserve a treat.”

Harry sighed as his wife put her hand into his night pants and began to pump his cock slowly. Closing his eyes with a smile he realized he probably had nothing to worry about.

.           .           .

You were a mess. You couldn’t sleep in the way that was necessary to function properly the next day. You kept going from squealing into your pillow like a 16-year-old after your crush admitted to liking you too, to feeling overwhelming anxiety about what was to come. Kit was an unknown in the equation. For many reasons.

The first was that you’d never been intimate with a woman even though you crushed on women for longer than you had men. The second was that you were worried that now that you’d called Harry Daddy and knew how much he liked it, even if Kit didn’t like that it would be hard for you to turn that off. The third thing was that you weren’t sure you’d want to see Harry kissing anyone else or watch him preferring his wife over you, because he would. Because Kit was so much prettier than you and she was his wife, the mother of his children. You were certain that you’d wind up kind of being the third wheel.

But maybe you had it all wrong. Maybe you’d love being with Kit and things would just be fun. But your rabbit hole Google search wound up landing you on a subreddit all about this kind of thing and did not leave you with confidence about what was to come. So many horror stories about “unicorn hunters” finding their “unicorn” and the ways threesomes can end a marriage.

But you said yes. And you intended to follow through. They both really seemed to want it. And you trusted them. Perhaps your experience would be among the rare ones that worked out for the better.

The rest of the week felt like you were slowly entering into a new realm of existence. Dramatic way to put it but that’s just how it felt. Things would change for you. Not only would you be having your first sexual encounter with a woman, but you’d also be having a threesome. You’d be in the middle of a married couple and that was not a situation you thought you’d ever get into.

But also, you were very aware that Harry was planning on fucking you. In front of his wife. And you couldn’t imagine that going well. Of course, you forced your fantasy to make it positive but there was something that was telling you that it wouldn’t be. You hoped you were just nervous for nothing.

On Friday before you left Mr. and Mrs. Styles’ home, William and Warren were told to get their suitcases ready for grandma and grandpa to pick them up the following morning.

Kit helped you put your bag on your shoulder, as she spoke, “We’re really excited about tomorrow. I hope you are too, Y/n.”

You smiled as you turned to look at her, “I am. A little nervous, I’ll admit.”

You were more than a little nervous.

“That’s okay. We are too. We’ll talk about everything tomorrow and go from there.”

Harry walked into the living room with you and Kit and there was just something different about him following that night he had you in his bed. It made you squirmy and intimidated. His eyes had always been intense but now they felt more severe. Daunting.

“So, tomorrow at 3 then?” He asked you as he raised his brows.

You nodded, “Yeah. I’ll be here.”

And from the moment you drove away from the Styles’ house until you knocked on their front door the following afternoon, you couldn’t get yourself to calm down or think about anything else.

You paced and talked out loud to yourself. You set up scenarios in your head and acted them all out, some of them turning you on quite a lot, you couldn’t lie. You practiced how you’d respond in certain situations. You took a long bath with salts and essential oils and got rid of as much hair as possible from your body so you’d be extra smooth.

You played your music loudly. You masturbated thinking about the way Harry fingered you. You picked the perfect outfit and panties. And you tried to sleep. But that was nearly impossible.

When you did finally wake up it was already noon. You’d slept in. Which shouldn’t have surprised you because you couldn’t get to sleep the night before. You jolted up from your bed and panicked as you ran into the bathroom to get the shower going. You couldn’t believe it was happening. You wondered what Harry and Kit were doing to prepare. Were they freaking out like you were? They both said they’d never done anything like this so they had to be at least a little nervous about everything.

Your soft pink lace bra and panties were your favorites. You didn’t wear them all the time but it felt like the appropriate affair to break them out.

At about 2 pm you received a text from Kit.

If you’d like, you can stay the night. We would be happy to have you all night.

That, you hadn’t expected. You had envisioned it being along the lines of you and the Styles getting finished up and then using their bathroom before an awkward goodbye and See you Monday (you really had thought of every scenario already).

But to stay the night? Would you sleep in their bed with them? Or would they offer you their guest room? Or the couch? You couldn’t imagine sleeping next to them all night. Of course, maybe that would be nice? You really didn’t know. It was hard to think with a clear brain when Harry was involved. The whole situation was wacky but the opportunity to be allowed to sleep with Harry and his pretty wife and have everything be just fine after (hypothetically) was simply not something you’d want to say no to.

.           .           .

Harry was nervous. He was trying to reign in his thoughts and his doubts. He didn’t want Kit to know how deep his worries ran. Because she seemed excited. She seemed far calmer than he felt.

He forced himself to eat breakfast and a light lunch so she didn’t question it. He didn’t know how things would play out once you arrived. And he tried not to imagine all the salacious things he’d been thinking about you in his private time.

When you’d finally arrived with your bag in hand and knots in your tummy Harry took deep breaths as Kit answered the door and hugged you in greeting.

“I hope you’re hungry! I’m making salmon and parmesan risotto.It’s my specialty and I think you’ll like it.” Kit led you to the kitchen where her husband stood and the moment he laid his eyes on you the smallest something ignited in him. It was only a spec of something but it was as if a layer of worry was wiped away instantly. Just seeing your pretty smile with your bag in hand had his mind swirling with thoughts of what might come. He realized part of him didn’t think you’d actually show up. But you did.

He tried leaning on Kit’s poise and mimicking her excited demeanor. On the way she seemed so calm but confident. That’s how it should have been for him. But the bigger parts of worry in him stemmed from the fact that his more dominant natural inclination was starting to peek through the cracks slowly. He’d even initiated something with Kit the night before, which she quickly shot down. He knew his wife was not one for being submissive. Or at least letting him take the reigns fully. But he knew Y/n would want it.

And worse yet, he hadn’t asked Kit if she’d mind if you called him Daddy. That was weighing heavy on him. He knew he should have talked to her about it days prior but there was part of him that worried she wouldn’t like that. He wasn’t sure how it would be brought up at that point but it would come out sooner or later he was positive. Especially with the way you seemed to love saying it.

“This looks so good, thank you, Mrs. Styles,” you smiled softly and looked from Harry to Kit and then back to the steaming pot ofrisotto. You weren’t sure you’d be able to eat much but you’d force something down. Your mind was jumbled and you felt tense.

But of course, this was something new for all of you. You’d all be going through this together and so you probably didn’t have much to worry about.

Harry took your little bag from your hand and his bright green eyes on you felt hot, “I’ll take this upstairs unless you need anything from it right now?”

You shook your head, “I don’t need it. Thank you, Mr. Styles.”

You had wanted to ask Harry what his wife thought about the whole Daddy thing but you hadn’t had the chance the rest of the week and even if you had you wouldn’t have been able to get the nerve up to ask.

“So, what are you thinking? What things are you into?” Kit asked as she handed you a glass of wine.

You leaned your hip into the counter and shrugged, “I don’t know. I think I like it when other people take the lead. I’m sort of, maybe a little submissive,” you laughed softly as you brought your glass up to your lips and looked at Kit. It was the first time you’d really taken her in since you’d arrived. She was wearing a pretty black lacey dress that fit her gorgeous body like it was made for her. Black heels, a smoothed back, high ponytail. Bright red lips, perfectly done eyeliner. Her cheekbones made you envious. You’d always noticed her cheekbones in the past. As well as Harry’s. Imagined they were made for one another. Two exquisitely stunning people.

Kit leaned against the counter next to you, her body turned toward yours, “That’s perfect for Harry and me. We’re both a bit dominant,” she sipped her glass and you watched her eyes trail down over your neck. You’d put on a pretty choker. Light pink small pearls to go with your sexy (you hoped) pink lacey underwear. Over it, you wore a lightweight cream sweater that was almost sheer with a short white skirt with a print of pink and yellow butterflies all over it. You felt underdressed compared to Kit. She looked like an adult and you looked like a child.

When Harry returned to the kitchen he poured himself a glass and looked at you and then to his wife, “What’d I miss?”

“Just asked Y/n what she likes. She’s going to let us take the lead. And look at his, H,” she gently put a slender finger under your pearl choker, “she’s perfect. I told you.”

Harry’s gaze felt so heavy on you. It felt like he was dissecting you with his eyes, “I think we’ll have a lot of fun together.”

A safe choice of words.

Dinner was quite delicious. Though you weren’t really that hungry, the wine you drank helped you feel a bit more comfortable, and sitting and chatting about normal things with Kit and Harry felt really good.

You helped clean up. Harry had put on some music and you were feeling loose from the wine so you were swaying the tiniest bit with the beat. When you felt hands at your hips you turned and it was Kit, swaying with you. She leaned her chin over your shoulder and spoke into your ear, “Leave the dishes. Those can wait. I think it’s time to get comfortable and talk. Come,” she pulled at you and you suddenly weren’t feeling as loose at the notion of talking.

Ground rules. Expectations. It was all necessary stuff.

You followed her into the living room where Harry was already sitting on the couch at one side. He gestured for you to sit next to him and Kit sat down on the opposite side, putting you in the middle.

The music was still playing as Kit turned toward you and put her arm up on the back of the couch, “Tell us your concerns. What things you absolutely do not like.”

You looked down at the coffee table where all three glasses of wine were sat and took a deep breath, “My concerns… I’m worried someone won’t like this after we start. Like,” you looked at Kit, “maybe you realize you don’t want anyone touching Harry. Or even if Harry doesn’t like to see you with anyone else? I just don’t want anyone to feel upset.”

Kit nodded, “A good point. I feel the same. I think we all do. We won’t know until we get into it but I think if there is anything anyone doesn’t like we need to be able to speak up about it. Agreed?”

You nodded, unsure if they wanted you to continue. That was the biggest concern of yours, sort of. You were worried about calling Harry Daddy when things got going. You were worried you would feel left out, which wasn’t fair of you to feel that way. Kit and Harry were married, after all. They’d certainly be paying the most attention to each other.

“Anything else? What things do you not like at all? What is a hard no for you?”

Harry had been quite silent since you all had sat down. But you were feeling heat pouring off of him. And you could tell he had his eyes on you.

“I mean… maybe if I think of some I’ll tell you? I haven’t done much, to be honest. Nothing stands out in my mind.”

“Do you like to be spanked? Or maybe restrained?” Kit raised her brows at you.

You shrugged, “I haven’t really been spanked before. Definitely not restrained.”

“You haven’t really been spanked?” Harry finally spoke up.

You turned to look at him but found you needed to look away quickly. He was too attractive.

“Well, once a guy sort of smacked at my bottom during… Like I was on top and…” you swallowed trying to calm yourself as you saw his hand move from his lap to the space between your thigh and his on the couch, “Like it was just really quick. Just once. So I wouldn’t say spanked but… yeah.”

“And did you like it?” He asked.

You looked at him and couldn’t help but feel yourself singe with warmth, “I didn’t mind it.”

“We’ll learn as we go,” Kit added.

Harry pulled his gaze away from you to his wife when she spoke and it was the first time you noticed it. His unease. It almost seemed like he’d forced himself to look away from you. Like the way you felt when you looked at him.

Kit reiterated that she agreed with you. That there would need to be open communication. She said that she liked to be dominant or at least to have most of the control.

“And I also like to be in control. To be dominant.” Harry said as he looked at Kit and then to you, “I also wanted to see if it was comfortable for you, Kit, if Y/n calls me Daddy.”

Kit looked to the coffee table quietly in thought and then looked at you, “Do you like that? To call your sexual partner Daddy?”

Your eyes widened at the question. You hadn’t expected that you’d answer this question. But you also assumed Harry had already spoken to Kit about it.

“Uh, well. Yeah, I think so.”

“Have you ever called anyone Daddy during a sexual encounter before? Are you comfortable with that?” Kit pressed.

You shot your sight to Harry and then back to Kit. How did you answer this? He obviously hadn’t told his wife that you were calling him Daddy that night and now you didn’t know if you should reveal that you already had. And Harry had been the only one you’d ever given that moniker to.

“I mean I’d like her to, but if she’s not comfortable with it we don’t have to do it, Y/n.” Harry quickly interrupted. You knew he was doing a bit of damage control. Perhaps that little thing would just be a secret between you and Harry. You were okay with that, you figured. You didn’t want him getting into trouble with Kit.

“Yeah. That’s fine. I don’t mind. It doesn’t make me uncomfortable at all.”

“Okay. Good. I’m okay with it, I think. We’ll feel it out and see if we like it,” Kit said, seemingly unbothered.

With the music playing you felt Harry’s pinky graze your bare thigh and Kit leaned forward to grab your glass of wine and hers, handing you yours.

“You smell so good, Y/n,” she said to you with a dreamy look on her face. “Doesn’t she, Harry?”

Sipping your wine you heard his deep voice from your right as he spoke, “She smells delicious.”

The change of the song and Harry’s pinky ghosting at your thigh and Kit’s closeness with her eyes on you had you feeling excited. Your heart began to lob in your chest, faster and faster.

Kit ran her finger up your neck, “You’re so shy. I really love it. Y/n, we’re going to make sure you have fun tonight.”

She got onto her knees and reached across you to pull at Harry’s hand and drew him in for a kiss. You watched them as they wound their mouths together right in front of you. You were smushed back into the couch with your eyes on their lips and watched their tongues meld and lick and heard Kit moaning.

When they parted Harry grabbed your empty glass of wine and placed it on the coffee table before he cradled the back of your neck to pull you in for a kiss. He wanted to feel your silky lips on his and he wanted to make sure you were included in the fun too. He would see to it you weren’t left out.

Kit watched her husband kissing you, their nanny with amazement. It was the first time she’d ever gotten to enjoy this sort of thing and she already loved it.

You felt Harry’s warm and wet mouth pull away from yours as Kit took over and pressed her lips to yours. The way it felt to have her mouth on yours versus Harry’s was night and day. Kit was soft and unmistakably feminine and you moaned as you reached up to pull your arms over her shoulders. With your body turned toward Kit you felt Harry’s big palm slide up your thigh and lift your skirt just a little before his chest was pressed into your back and his lips were on your neck.

“Can I mark your neck, sweet girl,” Harry groaned into your sensitive skin as Kit’s mouth moved with yours flawlessly.

“Yes, Daddy…” you breathed out the words and hadn’t even realized you said Daddy until the name hung in the air immediately after you’d said it. But no one seemed bothered. Kit only became more fervent and you felt her hand slip under your soft sweater.

“Can I touch you? Will you give us permission to touch your body and play with you now?” Kit panted her words before dotting kisses on your cheeks.

“Oh god. Yes, you can. Anything you want.” You meant it. If they wanted to touch your naked body or see it or tear your clothes off you were already so far gone you just wanted to please them. Everything was green for you so far.

You hissed softly and felt the pinch and sting of Harry’s lips at your neck as he marked you like he wanted.

Kit’s hand slid up your tummy to your pretty bra and she squeezed your plushy tit under her palm, “Just say if you don’t want something. Fuck you have such nice breasts, Y/n…” she leaned back and lifted your sweater before dipping down to kiss over the sheer lacy fabric over your nipples and you gasped.

Harry put his hand on your neck and turned your face toward him roughly, smearing his mouth against yours with a deep moan. You opened your mouth to let his tongue inside and you felt a drizzle of arousal pool into your panties. You loved the way it felt to have his big palm on your neck and his mouth ravaging yours while Kit’s lips and tongue worked over the flimsy fabric of your bra, wetting it and making your nipples hard underneath.

He could feel your delicate pearls under his palm as he used his thumb to squeeze you gently. But when he heard your tiny whimper his cock throbbed in his pants and he pulled at you, “We need to get her upstairs in bed.”

Kit grinned and the three of you awkwardly made your way upstairs. The moment you were in their bedroom Kit had her hands at your skirt, pulling at it, “Want this off of you. Okay? He’s had the chance to see your body but I haven’t yet. I’m dying to see you.”

Harry unbuttoned his shirt as he watched his wife remove your skirt and then peel off your little sweater. He walked up behind Kit and pulled at the bottom hem of her dress to pull it off, “Need you out of this too, Kitty.”

You’d never heard him call his wife Kitty before but it made sense now that you’d heard it.

The moment you saw Kit in her tiny black thong and her amazing tits out (she was sans bra) you dropped your mouth open. Her body was insane. She had a tattoo of a flowering tree on her ribcage and another at her hip with shooting stars. It fit her perfectly.

Harry put his hands on her shoulder as he stood behind her and kissed her neck, his eyes on yours.

“My tits need some love, Y/n. Come here,” she reached for you and it was easy to enjoy the way it felt to have a soft breast in your mouth. You sucked at her nipples and lapped your tongue over her skin with your hands cupping both sides, smushing your fingers in to really feel how soft and lovely it was. You couldn’t believe you’d never done anything with a girl before. You were certainly glad Harry and Kit were so forward.

Harry moved his position from behind his wife to behind you. You hadn’t expected to feel his hands at your bum, squeezing and pulling at your cheeks before giving you a soft smack.

You jolted slightly and looked up at Kit with a laugh.

Harry pressed his hips into your bottom against your pink lacy panties and groaned, “Beautiful ass.”

Kit grasped your jaw and pulled you in for another kiss. Soft and tranquil, wet and warm. There was an easy difference in the way a woman kissed than a man and you adored it.

You felt Harry’s hand at your bottom, pulling at your panties to slide into your crack to give him access to your full bottom. The sudden warmth and wetness against your bum cheek might have startled you more if he hadn’t given you a swat just moments prior. His mouth and tongue moved over your flesh slowly until he pasted a wet kiss right over where your panties were stuffed into your bottom.

He gripped your hips and pushed his face in further, soft lips kissing along where your panties were, “Gotta get these off, okay, Y/n? As pretty as they are,” he put his fingers into the band of your lacy panties and pulled them down your ass and legs and you continued kissing Kit with a wet, desperate tongue.

But you gasped and your eyes bounced open when Harry's mouth found your pussy from behind. He pulled your cheeks and put his mouth between them, licking over your labia. You couldn’t help but to turn to look behind you as best you could to watch his dark curls from behind you.

Kit’s hands slid to the back of your bra and unhooked your clasp to get you out of your bra, “Oh shit.” She took you in and delicately moved her hands over your tits, “Gorgeous.”

Harry stood up and pulled his shirt off his shoulders and then began to take his pants down and underwear. He was too hard in his pants to keep them on. He watched as Kit pulled you to the bed. Now that you were completely naked Kit wanted to see you spread out.

You were pushed to your back and she climbed between your legs, “Can I eat you out a little, Y/n? Missed eating pussy.”

You nodded quickly as Kit smirked at you and gave you one more soft kiss to your lips.

You saw Harry come up behind her and look down at you as his wife bent over to press her lips to your cunt. He looked from Kit’s ass to your face and pulled at her g-string to move it to the side as he pressed his fingers into Kit’s entrance, “So wet already, Kitty. You don’t get wet f’me like this.”

Harry’s strong and broad shoulders, the view of his dark tattoos scattered on his chest and arms made you wish Kit wasn’t in your way so you could see him unobstructed.

Kit moaned and lapped at your clit as she looked up at you, “I just love how she feels, H. I’m so horny looking at her body.”

Harry could agree with that assessment. He was already throbbing and he hadn’t even had his cock touched yet. Not that his wife couldn’t get him worked up but having you in the mix was exciting. New.

He fucked into his wife with his thick fingers from behind her slowly and loved the way you sounded when you moaned. He reached down to grip his cock and stroke himself as he looked at your pretty face. Moving his fingers from Kit’s pussy he slid his tip up and down her crease and she lifted and looked back at him, “Yes, H… fill me with that big dick.”

“Yeah? Want this big cock, baby?” He looked at you as he asked.

You moaned when Kit wrapped her lips around your clit again and you felt her fingers thrust into your soft, wet hole.   

Harry felt good plunging into Kit as always. She was familiar and welcoming. He knew exactly what to expect and exactly what she needed to get off. But this time, as familiar as Kit felt, it was so different as he thrust in and pulled back to his tip with his eyes on yours.

He began to rock into his wife and each thud into her pushed Kit into your pussy harder. Kit was bent down with her mouth on your cunt, her ass in the air at the edge of the bed while Harry stood, feet on the floor, and fucked his wife from behind. But he had a great view of your face and your tits. It almost felt like he was already fucking you with the way your eyes were locked on his.

The delicious surge of Kit’s fingers digging into your pussy and her tongue on your bud had you spinning. But it was Harry’s eyes on yours as he grunted with each roll of his hips that had you nearly at your end already.

Kit lifted and looked at you. When you felt her lips move away you quickly shot your gaze back to hers. She continued fingering you, “You gonna come for me, Y/n? Fuck!” She closed her eyes for a moment and pushed herself back onto Harry as she used her free hand to rub her clit, “God, right there, H.”

When Harry began to go in sharper, Kit placed her mouth back on your pussy and moaned at the way her husband was pounding into her. His deep thrusts were making her press into you.

He grasped Kit’s hips harshly and moaned at the view of his cock stretching his wife out and then looked back at you with your lips parted and your hands squeezing your tits together. Your neck elongated.

The sharp spike of stimulation made you cry out and you couldn’t stop the spiral in your tummy from tensing and twisting as you came. Soft wet lips on your clit and slender fingers pumping through your walls felt amazing. But when you heard Harry groan loudly as he began to come inside of Kit you opened your eyes to find his fixed on yours, mouth dropped open with deep breaths heaving from his picturesque chest.

You felt the final deep thrust as the last of his come drained from his cock into his wife as her mouth smashed into you.

You were both breathless as you came down from your orgasms. The eye contact felt intimate. You loved the way it made you feel connected to Harry and to his wife.

Harry grinned and watched as he slowly slid his cock out of Kit, pinching his fingers into her hips, “Y/n, would you like to eat my come from my wife’s pussy? How does that sound to you, sweet girl?”

You nodded and Kit lifted her face from your pussy slowly. Her own chest was heaving as she was so close to her orgasm, “I love that idea. Want to taste Harry dripping out of me, Y/n?”

You pushed yourself up by your elbows, “Yeah, how should I…?”

Kit crawled over you and pushed you down. She brought her cunt to right over your face and let a bit of Harry’s come trickle out onto your chin and your lips, “We’ll do it like this. Now eat.”

With that, she settled her pussy down onto your mouth and you closed your eyes as you sucked and tried to use your tongue the best you could. You tasted the saltiness of his come and the sharpness of Kit’s arousal mixed as you swallowed and pulled at her folds with your lips. The idea that you were getting to drink Harry’s come made you shiver in delight. You never imagined that you’d be swallowing his come down your throat.

When you felt a big, hot mouth dot kisses along the inside of your thigh and felt the grip of a big hand lifting your leg you were spurred on to lick and suck at Kit harder. You were reminded that there were three people in the room.

You felt Harry’s shoulders push against the back of your thighs and felt a deep vibration of something he mumbled against your pussy before his wide flat tongue licked upward before gently rolling your clit in his mouth, his slick muscle pressing and swirling over it.

The sensation of Harry eating you out in comparison to how Kit did it was night and day. Kit was warm and soft, precise. Harry was like a caveman starved, masculine, and messy. You could already feel the way he was smearing your arousal all around your pussylips and the crease of your thigh.

Kit began to rub at her clit as she brushed her pussy over your lips. Her essence was getting all over your face and you really kind of liked the taste. It wasn’t that different from yours, the smell and taste of it.

“Oh my god, baby, those lips,” she moaned and pinched at her nipples as she began to come.

You could feel her shaking and the way her pussy hole fluttered over your mouth, her hips jerking as she rode into your lips and bumped into your nose.

Meanwhile, Harry was moaning into your pussy and lapping at you like ice cream melting. When you felt the addition of his fingers gently poking past your slippery muscle you let out a muffled groan into Kit’s pussy.

Harry lifted your hips up further and dug in deeper. With the new angle, it felt different and you were unable to gain any leverage with your legs at all. You were totally at his mercy with any movement below the waist.

Kit lifted off and sighed, “Such a good girl, Y/n. How was that?”

You gasped and tried your best to respond while your pussy was getting wrecked with Harry’s mouth and fingers, “I like… really liked it!”

Kit softly ran a finger up your neck and to your cheekbone, “Yeah? For a first time that was good. I think we’ll need more practice but that can be arranged. Can’t it, H?”

Harry grunted and smeared his mouth against your clit. You couldn’t hear it if he responded or not but then when Kit moved away you watched as she grasped Harry’s hair and pulled him off your pussy, “Right, Harry?”

He looked dazed as he darted his eyes from his wife to you, “What?”

“Is her pussy that good that you couldn’t hear me?” Kit laughed.

You saw Harry gulp as he stood up and it was the first time you noticed the big tiger tattoo on his left thigh and the laurels on his hips. He was a piece of art, “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I said we could arrange to do this again,” Kit sat back onto her haunches as she looked at her husband.

“Yeah. If Y/n wants.”

Kit looked at you and back to Harry, “So what do we think? Need a break? Are we ready to relax? We’ve all had our orgasms.”

Inwardly you pouted and wanted to throw a fit. You had come but you really really wanted to suck Harry off and have him fuck you. You wouldn’t mind eating Kit out again, but you felt you weren’t done with Harry. Needed a little more.

Harry laughed, “Ready to relax? Kitty, I’m just getting started. I kind of hoped I’d be able to have you choking on my cock or something,” his cocky grin beamed at his wife.

“Choke on your cock? Maybe I’ll let you choke on my dildo. You know I don’t do that. If Y/n wants to she’s welcome to it.”

You sat up and looked from Harry to his wife as they discussed what would come next. Harry looked you up and down like you were going to be an indulgent meal, “Want my dick in your mouth, sweet girl?” Harry gripped his shaft and slowly slid his hand up and down. He was only half-hard. He needed a minute to get back to full mast after his orgasm.

“Yes. I would really like that, Harry.” You looked from Harry to Kit to make sure everyone was on board.

“I think you mean Daddy. Right?” Harry’s stern voice had you sitting up straight.

“Yes, Daddy. I want it.”

Kit softly moaned, “She’s such a sweet girl, Harry. Enjoy your blowie. Mind if I get some water? I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

Harry kept his eyes on you, “Go on. We’ll be fine. Right, Y/n?”

You nodded, “Yes, Daddy.”

Kit paused and looked from you to her husband but then shook off the tiny alarm going off in her head before leaving you two alone.

“Get down here. On your knees. I’ll take it easy on you.”

You climbed off the bed and got to your knees. Harry pumped his dick right over your face and reached down with his free hand to grasp your neck to pull at you, making you sit up further, “Your pearls are so sweet. Did you dress up just for, Daddy?”

“I did. Wanted to be cute for you.” You smiled at him with wide eyes.

“Cutest thing I’ve ever seen, Y/n. Now, get it all wet. Lick all around. I want to get nice and hard for your throat. And maybe if Kitty doesn’t mind, she’ll let me fuck you. Would you like that?”

Your heart pounded as you looked up at Harry and nodded, “Yes, Daddy. Really want to feel you.”

You began to tongue along Harry's long shaft. From the base where he had trimmed dark hair to his tip. You plopped your lips around his crown and gently sucked, making him hiss before you dragged your tongue down to his base and back up again to wet every inch of his girth. You were amazed at the sounds coming from him. Soft and whimpery. You lowered your mouth to his sack and smoothed your tongue and lips along the skin before opening wide and pulling half into your mouth.

“Fucking angel. Shit, I love that.”

You noted his reaction to your mouth on his balls. To save for another day.

When you drew your tongue upward again, along his length you felt him plump. His cock grew harder and harder until he was rigid and completely ready for fucking again.

“Now suck on it,” he pressed the back of your head to urge you down over him.

You wrapped your lips around his head, saliva pooling at your tongue and dripping down his cock as you slowly began to take him in your mouth. Deeper and deeper. He was thick, though and you were concerned your mouth wasn’t big enough or that your teeth would graze his skin. But you pressed on, doing your very best.

He kept his hand at the back of your head and helped gently guide you down, “Come on. You can get a little more in there, baby. Fucking so good with that mouth.”

You felt his tip nudging at the roof of your mouth and slip in close to your tonsils and you gurgled, swallowing around his tip and making him choke out a loud moan.

You did it again, loving the way he responded and you felt him slip in deeper, yet you still hadn’t gotten him all in. He was likely a bit too long for you to take him all. You’d need practice.

The sound of you gagging wetly and Harry groaning filled the room as your eyes watered.

“Jesus Christ, Y/n!” Harry watched your lips as they parted around his cock, drooling down your chin.

You could hear Kit when she came back. She’d said something but you were so fixated on Harry’s cock and making him feel good that your brain was fuzzy and out of focus. The only thing that mattered was making Harry feel good and you couldn’t care about anything else.

The grip he had on the back of your head and the way his hips were moving felt like he was enjoying you as you wetly spluttered on his cock as it grazed the back of your throat.

When Harry pulled you off you sat back and looked up at him expectantly. Harry kept his eyes on you. He looked like he was proud of you as he spoke, “Kitty? Can I fuck this sweet thing? Want to feel to her around my cock.”

You watched Harry as Kit answered, “Okay. I think that sounds hot. Just use a condom, though. Is that okay with you, Y/n?”

You nodded, still focused on Harry, “Yes.”

Kit led you to the bed to lie on your back and kissed you softly, “I’ll play with you a little and probably kiss Harry too while he’s fucking you. Is that okay?”

You finally looked at Kit, breaking the spell you were under with Harry, “That’s fine. Yeah.” You nodded.

“And if we do this again maybe I can wear a strap-on and fuck you too.” Kit raised her brows.

You nodded and smiled. Harry was busy putting a condom on as he listened to his wife talking to you. He hated to admit it to himself, but he loved it when Kit stepped out of the room for a bit. He felt freer to express himself with her gone. Was less worried about sounding like he was preferring Y/n to her.

But he wondered if once he got his cock inside of you how he’d feel. Would he be able to overcome the way he wanted to just dominate you and claim you for himself? It was a slippery slope what was happening but he was freefalling into his dominant persona with you and it felt odd having his wife watch it all. He hoped he didn’t get too into it and lose track of what was really happening.

Harry crawled onto the bed between your legs and thumbed at your clit as he watched Kit kiss you. He wanted to kiss you. Wanted to start off nicely with a warm kiss and push into you that way. So he waited while his wife groped your tits and licked into your mouth.

You reached down to Harry’s hand, where his thumb was at your bud and you bucked your hips upward. He had the most gorgeous view of your wet pussy, just waiting and ready to stretch open for his cock.

When Kit finally pulled her mouth away Harry leaned over you, “I’m gonna kiss her for a bit, Kit. If you don’t mind,” and then he pasted his mouth against yours and lined his cock up with your entrance.

When you felt him push past your tight muscle you could have cried. He was wide and long and you were so wet and he began to thrust in and slowly, his mouth devouring yours. He went in with long strokes, sinking in until he couldn’t push in any further. His muscles working into you, thighs and bottom and back flexing and indulging.

Harry lifted his face from yours to look down at you, cupping your jaw, “You doing okay?”

Your mouth was wide open as you nodded, “So good, Daddy.”

Harry cooed at you as he began to fuck into you harder, making your tits wobble with the force.

Kit leaned over you and began to kiss you again but you could hardly kiss back with the way your pussy was being pounded into and the sound of Harry’s groans were all you could focus on. He liked your pussy, you could tell. And that had your heart singing and your body buzzing.

He loved how your pussy looked wrapped around his cock, tight and juicy as he pushed in and brought himself back to the tip before ramming into you again. He wanted Kit out of the way so he could see your face but he knew he couldn’t ask her to move. She was going to be part of this.

But when he dipped in especially deep, the puffy head of his cock nudging into your cervix and hitting your g-spot with each stroke you gasped and moaned loudly, making Kit move back.

“Daddy!” You howled as Harry panted and repeated what he’d just done. You squealed and threw your head back. It felt so good. He was pushing into your guts and breathing heavily over you.

Harry was glad he’d already come so he could last a bit longer with you. He wanted to drag it out. Really get to fuck you properly and feel you. It was lush being inside of you and hearing your pretty voice respond to him.

“Like Daddy’s cock, baby?” He spoke between gritted teeth as he pushed your thighs into your chest and leaned over you, nearly folding you in half so Kit couldn’t interrupt again. He was getting hot and dizzy for you. Wanted you all to himself.

“It’s the best! Oh fuck!! I love it. I want it… oooh! Need you so bad, Daddy!” You weren’t really sure what words came from your mouth as he pushed into you at the new angle, but all you knew was that your entire world was Harry. Harry… Harry… Harry… He was on you and in and he liked it. You were making him feel good.

“Need me, baby? Need this cock inside your little pussy?”

Harry’s balls were aching as he nudged into you, his sac pressed into your bum each time he bottomed out.

“Yes…” your voice was shaky and breathy as he railed you into the mattress.

Harry let go of your legs to lean over you and press his mouth against yours once again. Wet and hard, teeth scraping and moans of debauchery.

“Need you too, baby. Needed this fucking pussy. You gonna let Daddy own this pussy, baby?”

“Oh god, yes Daddy! This pussy is yours!” You whined.

Kit was at the edge of the bed watching the spectacle and she was quite turned on by the scene. She gently rubbed her pussy as she watched her husband railing you but the words spoken between you and Harry had her feeling a bit weird. She knew she should call a time out but she wasn’t sure if that was a good idea. You were in throws of passion, she tried to reason.

“Holy shit, Y/n!” Harry moaned as he felt you begin to squeeze around him. His pelvis rubbed into your clit and the little sparkles of your orgasm started to grow and grow with each yummy thrust into your clenching walls. His cock spread you wide and his pelvis smeared into your bud as if his body was made for you. The angle was exquisite. Harry thought so too.

“Coming on Daddy’s cock, Y/n? Fucking creaming all over me baby.” He let his strokes go long and deep and languid as he hovered over you, his arms and back flexing as he rolled into you.

You were stunned and unable to speak for moments on end. Your vision went blank and your ears fuzzed out with a ringing white noise that blocked all sound.

Harry moaned a laugh at how hard you were coming, “Feels good doesn’t it baby? Cock is made for you…” his deep thick voice gave away that he was about to come. Kit recognized it.

“Don’t come inside of her. Even with a condom,” Kit sat up and watched closely as you finally gasped and cried out. For some reason the idea of her husband coming, even if inside a condom, while balls deep in another woman didn’t feel right.

Harry groaned and closed his eyes. He wished he would have known before but of course, Kit hadn’t even been sure that was something she didn’t want.

He kept working into you, letting you ride out your orgasm as you moaned and babbled Daddy, yes Daddy over and over again.

When your eyes finally peeled open Harry had slowed his thrusts and he dipped down to kiss you. It was messy and wet. He was on edge, his orgasm so close his balls were vibrating.

He looked down at you and thumbed over your cheek, “Flip over for Daddy. Gonna fuck you from behind and come on your back okay?”

You moaned and nodded as Harry pulled out and watched you lay on your tummy, ass nudged up.

Harry looked at Kit, “Not gonna come inside her. Don’t worry.”

He smoothed his hands over your ass and squeezed, parting your cheeks as he lifted your hips slightly to angle you up for his cock.

Harry pressed back into you, both of you sighing in relief, “Thank you, Daddy…” you mumbled into the comforter.

“Rub your pussy for, Daddy. Want you to feel good, baby.”

You did as he said, reaching your hand down between your body and the mattress as you fingered over your clit and Harry’s loud grunts were timed with each of his strokes into you.

His hips were slapping into your bottom and the tightness of your cunt around him and the view of your pretty anus was like fine art. It was slushy and wet.

You pushed back against him and felt saliva stream out of your mouth onto the bed below.

“Want your come, Daddy,” you quickly slicked your fingers back and forth along your clit as Harry’s masculine moans grew deeper and louder as he neared his end. “Please, Daddy!”

Harry watched his cock disappear into you over and over again, “Want my come, baby? Deep inside your cunt? Want to be stuffed with it?”

You nodded into the mattress, “Yes…” you whined.

“Sounds so fucking good,” Harry cooed as he began to tremble. His arms grew wobbly as his balls tightened. His cock twitched and pulsed and he quickly pulled out, ripping his condom off before spurts of his come started to pump from his dick. He wrapped his fist around himself and milked his shaft, pouring all over your back as he used his free hand to keep your cheeks spread apart. In a daring move, he released the last bit of himself over your ass and pussy as he loudly choked out a moan.

With his chest heaving and your ass swaying back toward him in hopes of him pushing his come inside of you the voice of Kit pulled you from your dreamy haze.

“Get up.” She did not sound as happy as she had been not long before.

Harry removed himself from your body and you pushed yourself up and turned to look at them.

“That’s not what I meant when I said don’t come in her. Coming on her back was okay but then on her pussy like that? You should have asked me first.”

Harry looked at you with his come all over you and back to his wife, “Sorry, Kit. It was all just in the moment. I shouldn’t have come on her like that.”

“I just… I don’t know. We need to talk about this more I think. But not with her here.” She gestured to you.

You were sort of stuck with your ass in the air, unable to move much because of Harry’s come on your back.

“Okay. That’s fine. We’ll talk. Let me clean her up,” Harry pointed at you.

“She can clean herself up. We don’t need to baby her, Harry.”

“Come on, Kit. She deserves to be treated nicely. And it’s on her back. She needs help.”

Kit suddenly walked away and Harry leaned onto the bed to look at you, “Are you okay?” He put his hand on the back of your thigh.

“Yeah. I’m okay. I didn’t mean to make her mad.”

Harry looked over his shoulder and back at you, “She’s not mad, sweetheart. This is all new for us so she just needs a minute. I’ll be right back with a towel okay?”

You felt a burning embarrassment slither down your spine at the idea that Kit didn’t like something you’d done. It was exactly that thing you had wanted to avoid. You loved being with Harry and Kit but you knew you let yourself get lost with Harry and you went too far. You’d fucked everything up and now you were surely going to lose your job and Kit would hate you forever.

Harry got back onto the bed with you and gently wiped at your back, “Don’t worry about anything. You did nothing wrong, Y/n. Okay?”

You nodded and kept your eyes cast down over the comforter in shame. Nothing felt good anymore. You were humiliated. And even though Harry said you’d done nothing wrong it didn’t feel that way.

You put your clothes on silently as Harry slid on his pants and Kit returned, “I want her to go home.”

Harry stood quietly as he looked at Kit in her robe. You let your sight flit between Harry and his wife and noticed the way Harry looked like he was fuming. Pissed.

“Absolutely not. We invited her to stay. She didn’t do anything wrong, Kit. What is wrong with you?”

“I want to talk and I don’t think I can do it with her anywhere near me.”

“Why are you talking about her like she’s not standing right here?” He gestured at you.

Kit sighed and looked down, “I don’t feel comfortable, Harry.”

A scoff fell from his lips, “Well geez. Just imagine how she feels.”

Kit looked at Harry with a scrunched brow, “Are her feelings somehow more important than your own wife’s right now?”

Harry shook his head and ran his hands over his face, “I’m not saying that. I’m saying hers are just as important as yours. She’s a human, Kit. Fuck.”

Kit left the room again, stomping as she walked into the hallway.

Harry turned and stepped in front of you, taking your hands in his, “I’m sorry about this. I didn’t know she would act this way. I’ll get the guest room set for you but you can’t drive after all that wine we drank and I’m not letting you take an Uber home alone at this hour.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind. I’ve never had any bad experiences with Uber drivers-“

“No fucking way I’m allowing it. You’re staying here and that’s final.”

Harry walked out of the bedroom and you plucked up your bra and panties that were lying on the floor and followed him to the guest room.

But you stopped before you went inside when you heard him and Kit arguing quietly.

“That was too intimate, Harry. Her asking for your come and you saying how good that sounded. Saying your cock is made for her? Fuck.”

“Kit, we were having sex. I can hardly remember what things were said to be honest. I was caught up in the moment.”

“I shouldn’t have let you fuck her.”

“Maybe not, but it’s done. Too late to take it back now. Jesus.”

“I don’t want her here. Now all I can think about is the way you two were just ignoring me and enjoying each other. I was completely left out there at the end.”

“I didn’t mean to do that. I’m sorry.”

Kit sighed, “Me too. I feel disgusted. You should sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Come on, Kit. Don’t be like this. You know we were all just having fun.”

Kit walked out of the bedroom and stopped when she saw you. The look she gave you told you to keep your mouth closed and move out of her way. It felt like a threat. A warning.

You stood silently in the hallway as Harry made up your bed and you felt tears stream down your face. Kit suddenly walked up to you and handed you your bag roughly before walking back to her bedroom and closing the door behind her.

Harry peeked out of the room and saw you standing with your bag in your arms and tears in your eyes.

His heart dropped as he pulled you into the bedroom and wrapped his arms around you, one hand cradling the back of your head as he shushed you, “Don’t let her get to you, baby. Please don’t cry. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

You gulped and the softness of Harry with his arms around you made you cry harder. You tried to stop your tears but everything had really just made you so overly emotional. You’d gone from ecstasy straight to shame and humiliation.

He rocked you gently back and forth and kissed the top of your head, “I didn’t even get to love on you after. I’m so sorry. I wanted to make it so special for you and it was ruined. Please don’t be upset. I’ll make sure Kit’s okay by the morning, okay sweetheart?” Harry held you out in. his arms and looked at you. He thumbed at the tears under your eye and you blinked up at him.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he leaned in and kissed your forehead.

Leading you to the bed he pulled the blankets down and patted at the mattress, “I’d help you change into your night clothes but I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to do that right now. Are you gonna be okay in here? The bathroom is right there,” he pointed at the ensuite guest bathroom. “Towels are in the closet. I’m gonna go and talk to Kit and see if I can calm her down. Text me if you need anything. Okay?”

You nodded with a pout. You were doing your best to hold your stupid tears in as Harry hugged you again and then stopped at the doorway and turned to smile at you sheepishly before closing the door and leaving you cold and alone and shattered.

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[lovesickforhim]

Whiplash*

Summary: The second part to Knockout*

The one where Harry does something dangerous in the shadows, and he'll do anything to keep you out of it.

Word Count: 9.4k (again...so sorry)

Content Warning: 18+, smut, mentions of violence, slight blood kink, slight pain kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

There’s no protocol for what to do when a handsome stranger you hardly know (but occasionally fool around with), stops showing up at your diner. 

You stare at his booth for far longer than you should. Willing him to appear. To walk through the door and make things right. Ease this ache in your chest.

You have no way to contact him. You don’t know his last name, or his phone number, or his address. You don’t even know his license plate number. He’s a ghost to you. More than a stranger but less than a friend.

You give him a few more minutes to appear. Maybe there was traffic. Or maybe he forgot you were working tonight.

But soon, a few minutes turns into an hour, and booth 505 remains empty.

So, you put the idea of him to bed. Carrying on with your shift while wearing your heavy heart on your sleeve. Perhaps he’s gotten bored with you. Or perhaps he’s found other ways to occupy his nights.

You almost think you’d prefer this alternative to the other. The one where he’s not here because he’s not…here. That wherever he goes and whatever he does has finally caught up to him.

It makes your stomach wrench to imagine, and you forcibly shove the thought free before returning your attention to your newest pie.

Peach. Another one of Harry’s favorites.

3 a.m. has never felt so liberating. Bringing you the perfect escape as you clock out and rush through the doors for the parking lot. Eager to rid yourself of this wretched night and head back to your apartment to worry about your stranger in peace.

You step out into the cold morning air and pull your jacket a bit tighter around your frame. Exhaling a shaky breath that you can see dance across the dimly lit space.

There are only two other cars over by the right side of the building, and much to your continued dismay, you notice that Harry’s still isn’t one of them. 

So, with a sinking stomach, you reach into your pocket for your apartment keys, and begin walking for the subway. Yet right as round the corner of the diner, you notice something move within the shadows just beside you.

With a jump, you gasp, and spin around on your heel with your keys raised and aimed at the ready.

The figure that emerges sends your heart straight into your throat.

“Harry?” You drop your arm and move closer for a better look. “What…what…?”

The battered and bruised man offers you a tired smile that hardly reaches his lips. “Hi, Cherry.”

He looks worse than you’ve ever seen him. There’s a nasty slash going down his left eyebrow, a dark bruise forming along his jaw, and blood dripping down his arm from beneath his sleeve onto the pavement below.

You search for the right words – for any words at all – but before you can, he’s stumbling forward. Just barely able to catch himself before he collapses onto the ground.

With another gasp, you surge forward, quickly taking hold of his shoulders in order to keep him upright. “Harry—”

“M’okay,” he murmurs, and you can hardly hear him. As if he barely has the strength to speak. “I’m fine. I promise—”

“Harry,” you repeat for a third time, almost incredulously. “You…this is not fine. You’re…what happened?”

Even before he shakes his head, you know he won’t truly answer. “Nothing. S’just a little worse this time, but I’m okay. Really.”

You feel sick. Sick that he’s so hurt, sick that you can’t help him, and sick because you don’t understand who does this to him. “Okay, we…we need to get you to a hospital, we need to get you some help—”

“No.” His head shakes again, a bit more insistently. “No, I can’t go to a hospital. I just…I had to see you.”

You feel your throat constrict. “What?”

His hand lifts, palm finding your jaw until he can softly caress your cheek. And you feel a streak of blood smear across your skin from where his thumb brushes at your chin. 

“I had to see you,” he repeats softly. “Had to make sure you were all right. M’so sorry I wasn’t here earlier.”

You want to bury yourself in his arms. Want to kiss him, and hold him, and fix him. Make everything better again.

“It’s okay,” you nearly whimper. Pushing yourself into his touch. “I’m just really worried about you.”

The smirk grows. “I’m all right. I’ll go home, take some pain pills, and be right as rain by tomorrow. Really.”

 You’re hardly convinced. “Harry—"

“I’m all right,” he insists, dipping down to press his forehead to yours. “You don’t have to worry about me, Cher. S’not the first time this has happened, and it won’t be the last. I’ll be okay. I just wanted to see you.”

And you don’t believe him. You don’t even think he believes him. But he smiles at you as though he wants to. As though he wants to offer you any sort of consolation for his pain. To make this better…for you.

You allow him to hold you a moment longer before you pull back and declare, “I’ll help.”

His brows pinch together. “What?”

“I’ll help. I’ll go with you. Make sure you’re okay, and…and help you clean up.”

His expression softens, but he sighs heavily. “Baby, I can’t…I can’t ask you to do that—”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

“I know, s’just…” He holds your cheeks in both hands now. Keeping you in his sights. “I made a rule with myself. A promise that I wouldn’t drag you down with me. That I’d make sure you were okay, and that you’d never hurt because of me.”

The pit in your stomach deepens, but you merely straighten up. “How could this hurt me? I just want to help.”

“I know, sweet girl,” he breathes. “But letting you come with me means breaking my rule. And I can’t do that. I won’t.”

You wonder what he means. You wonder if you really want to know.

“Then you come with me,” you decide. “You can come back to my apartment, and I can make sure you’re all right.”

Another heavy exhale, but you can tell he’s touched. “Cherry—”

“I mean it. You’re not…Harry, I’m really worried about you. You can hardly stand and you’re bleeding from more places than one. You could have really hurt yourself and you shouldn’t be alone. I won’t let you be alone right now.”

He considers this. “Cherry, I’m trying to protect you—”

“And I’m trying to protect you, too,” you argue firmly, but with a persuasive grin. “Please let me.”

There’s a long lull of silence, those gentle green eyes studying you closely. He looks so very tired and wrought with grief. Yet when he sees you…his entire world seems to change. Lighting up about as bright as the moon.

“Okay,” he finally agrees. “Okay, we’ll go. I trust you.”

I trust you. Three little words that have never sounded so good and you can’t help but push up onto your toes to kiss him as gingerly as you can.

“Okay, where’s your car?” you ask, letting go in order to look around. “My apartment isn't too far, so I can drive until we—”

“No.”

“What?”

He squeezes onto your wrist almost pointedly. “No, we can’t…can’t take my car. S’not safe.”

“Oh…” Your lashes flutter. “All right. We…we can take the subway. I was going to take it anyway because a friend of mine is borrowing my car for the night, but…that can work. We can make that work.”

He says nothing, instead swaying a bit from the loss of blood as you rush to take hold of him once more.

“All right, okay. You’re okay,” you murmur softly. “Just hold on, okay? It’s only a few stops to my place, and we’ll be there in under twenty minutes.”

He nods weakly in response, and you’re quick to pull his arm around your shoulders in order to help guide him through the parking lot.

He seems grateful for this hold on you. Smirking to himself before leaning over to press his lips to your temple. Keeping you tight against his chest as though the two of you are merely going for a stroll in the park. 

Like a real couple.

You cling to his stained hoodie and help lead him toward the subway station. Making sure that you don’t walk too fast (or too slow) in order to get him there in one piece.

You don’t talk much – although there’s so much you want to say – but you can tell he’s pleased. Grateful to be in your company, even despite the circumstances. 

Once the train arrives, you both slip through the doors, and take a seat near the exit. You push your shoulder into his and he pushes his shoulder into yours. Leaning against each other almost contently and smiling to yourselves as the rest of the crowd saunters on.

The subway is relatively empty for this time of night. Or rather, early morning. And you’re more than all right with that. It means less people to stare at the bloody, bruised man dripping onto the train floor. 

He doesn’t notice the odd looks. He doesn’t seem to notice anything but you, instead staring down at where your fingers are tracing his. The way they run tenderly over the cracked skin across his knuckles before intertwining together.

He hums contently, lips stretching into a gentle grin.

You’re at your stop only fifteen minutes later, practically leaping onto your feet in a rush to get him out.

He seems to have a bit more energy now, perhaps from being able to rest for as long as he did. But he still holds onto you as tightly as he can while you walk along the sidewalk.

And you can’t help but let him.

“My apartment might be a little messy,” you attempt to preface as you head inside the tall building. “I was going to clean it before I left, but something…came up.”

He nods understandingly before glancing over the side of your profile. “Are you all right?”

“Am I all right?” you tease, gesturing toward him.

He smirks, but that curious look doesn’t slip. “Are you?”

You press the elevator button with one hand and squeeze his palm in the other. “I will be once you are.”

Apartment 505 is on the left side of the building, just beside the stairwell. It gives you a perfect view of the city, and you spend most of your days out on the stairwell watching the sun rise and set.

There’s a wreath on your door, hanging just over the number, and your stranger smiles when he sees it. Seemingly amused by the bright flowers and dainty bow that stands out amidst the dark grey paint.

After fumbling with your keys, you finally manage to get you both inside. Exhaling a deep breath and tossing your things toward the coffee table.

“Lock it,” he murmurs just as you’re moving for the kitchen.

“What?”

“The door. Lock it,” he says, almost firmly while nodding toward the handle. “Right now.”

A tad surprised by the resolute tone of voice, you nod, and turn around to oblige. Making sure the lock is turned and the door is secure before glancing over for his approval.

“Good girl,” he mumbles. “I want you to always lock it when you come in, all right? Always.”

“Okay,” you agree softly, returning to him. “I will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” you whisper, raising your hand to his face to press a kiss to his cheek. “Can you let me take care of you now?”

He seems to chuckle as he allows you to stroke his jaw. Settling into your gentle touch before nodding.

Pleased, you take his hand, and lead him toward your small bathroom. Sitting him on the edge of the bathtub in order to get a better look.

But the moment you see each cut and scrape beneath the bright, fluorescent light, there’s a hitch in your breath. Overwhelming you with sorrow and anguish at the sight of him. 

“Harry,” you exhale, almost unintentionally. 

His lashes flutter as he smiles, reaching out to lightly tug on your waitressing dress. “M’okay, Cherry. Really.”

He’s not okay, and you both know it. “I’ll…I’ll need to clean them first. Where…how many are there?”

A beat while he thinks. “There’s a couple on my chest. Plus, the one on my eye, and, you know, my hands.”

You nod, and vaguely gesture toward him, willing yourself not to shake. “Can…may I take off your hoodie? So I can check?”

The corner of his mouth curls up and he nods as well, reaching for the collar of his sweatshirt in order to begin peeling it off his torso.

You attempt to help, making sure he can get his arms through without having to bend too far or cause any strain to the injuries.

But once it’s off, you feel your stomach twist.

 His skin is littered with scars, scrapes, and fresh bruises. A variety of colors that range from light pink to an unsettling yellow. Blood is smeared across tattoos you didn’t even know he had, and there’s a rather nasty gash along the side of his ribcage. 

You hear yourself gasp, and he quickly tugs on your hem again. “Cher—”

However, you brush his hand away and move closer, running the tips of your fingers along his shoulder and down his sternum. Trailing each inch of stained skin until you reach his heart.

“Harry…” you say again.

He takes hold of your wrist and offers you a look of remorse. “I know.”

You aren’t sure you have the strength to ask, instead swallowing thickly as you pull back, and turn around. Searching through your cupboards for everything you’ll need.

He watches you closely, and it seems your reaction causes him more pain than anything else. It’s a look you know well. One where he’s desperate to comfort you, and you wish you could let him.

You rejoin his side with bandages, rubbing alcohol, and a sterilized needle with thread. “All right, I have to clean them first, and then…”

His eyes flick down to the suturing supplies with a smirk. “Ah.”

You grimace. “It’ll probably hurt.”

To your surprise, he shrugs. “No worse than what gave me the cut, I imagine.”

You hum to yourself and move for the alcohol. “And this might sting.”

“Mm. I’m counting on it.”

Dipping a cloth into the potent liquid, you begin to dab at each open cut that’s painted along his body. Making sure to be as gentle as you can and avoid any potential infections.

He tenses every few moments, jaw ticking as he takes steady, even breaths. But he makes no noise of complaint, nor does he flinch away from your touch. Almost leaning into it as you move between each scratch.

“How’s that?” you whisper, glancing over his face curiously before moving for the cut on his brow. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, red-rimmed eyes trained on you. Seeming to study you while you study his injury. “M’okay. Are you?”

You smile. “Yeah. Don’t like hurting you, though.”

“You’re not. Could never.”

“Hope you’re right.”

You smooth back the dark hairs of his eyebrow as gingerly as you can before reaching for the medical tape. Cutting the strips to the right length, you place a couple over the cut, and step back to observe.

“All right,” you declare. “Now, um…now I’ll need to…”

You both look toward his stomach where the worst gash lies, and he nods. “Where do you want me?”

“Just…there. Is fine.” You collect the needle and thread before crouching down near him in order to get closer. “It shouldn’t take too long. Be over before you know it.”

“All right.” He’s oddly calm, and for some reason, it makes you nervous. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been stitched, Cherry. I’ll be all right.”

 “I can see that,” you mumble to yourself, reaching now for his abdomen. “Just…tell me if it hurts too much, okay?”

“Okay.”

With a deep breath, you pinch his skin between your fingers, and bring the tip of the needle closer. Piercing the skin and threading it through slowly and with great precision.

He looks down, watching for a moment almost as though fascinated. “You’re really good at that.”

You offer a tight-lipped smile. “Should hope so. Spent three years learning how to do it.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. My, uh…my parents really wanted me to pursue a career in the medical field,” you explain as you continue working your way down. “And I thought being a nurse would be good because I liked the idea of helping people. And I liked learning about the body and how to heal it.”

His eyes remain on you.

“Anyway, it didn’t…I didn’t have a great experience in medical school,” you continue. “And it made me realize that it wasn’t what I really wanted to do. I wanted to…help people through food, I guess. Which probably sounds silly—”

“No,” he says, almost immediately. “No, it doesn’t.”

You smile a bit bigger. “Well, my parents were pretty pissed when I dropped out. Which makes sense, since they were the ones paying for it. But…they told me that if I wanted to pursue baking, I’d have to do that on my own. Financially, anyway. Hence all the late shifts at the diner.”

His brows furrow together almost sternly.

“And I don’t mind it. I really like working there. I like my coworkers, I like the people I meet.” You pause now and brave a glance up. “And I really like that it brought me to you.”

There’s a softness in his expression that makes your heart skip. “M’glad it brought you to me, too.”

You chew on the inside of your lip to suppress a rather giddy grin before returning your focus to the wound. “All right, your turn.”

“My turn?”

You nod your chin toward his injured body. “Why do you keep letting this happen?”

He sighs, and his stomach tenses with the strained breath. He wears the same look he wears each time you ask, and you already know he’s searching for the right way to deflect the question. 

“I don’t know.”

You expected nothing less, yet tonight, you insist upon the truth. Scooting closer as you glance up almost pleadingly. “Where do you go? Who does this to you?”

He hesitates. “Cher—”

“I won’t judge you. I’d never judge you, but this isn’t…Harry, this is really scary. And I want to make sure you know what you’re doing.”

Another heavy pause as you continue the suture. He contemplates his response, the small bathroom filling with a tense sort of energy. You wonder if the truth hurts him more than the scars.

“I…fight,” he finally says, and you feel your pulse stutter. “I get paid to fight. Three nights a week.”

And even though you’d already begun to assume that was the case, you feel the blood drain from your face. “Harry…”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs quickly, reaching out to brush his thumb along your cheek. “I’m okay.”

You want to argue, but you bite your tongue. Zeroing in your focus on your hands.

“I like it,’ he continues. “Don’t know why, but there’s just…there’s this rush, you know? This adrenaline. Makes me feel alive to be so close to death, I guess.”

You hum quietly, features pulling together in a wince. 

“S’about the only thing I’m good at, too,” he adds with a wry chuckle. “And all I have to do is win.”

Your head lifts. “This doesn’t look like a win.”

“Yeah, well. You should’ve seen the other guy.”

And despite his attempt at humor, you look back down, lashes fluttering.

It’s quiet for another long lull before he says, “It’s how I met you.”

You choose to keep your eyes downcast on the needle this time, but your ears perk up.

“One of the guys I work with said your desserts were the best he’d ever had. Said he used to go there all the time, for every fucking meal.”

You pull the thread though his stained skin and he sucks in a sharp breath. 

But his story is undeterred. “And I always get kind of a sugar craving after a fight, so I thought I’d go. And then…you.”

You remember the night vividly. The sight of him, hands wrapped in gauze, eyes dark and inquisitive, that familiar hoodie pulled over his head.

He was mysterious and strange, and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame. 

You have been ever since.

“And he was right,” Harry whispers now, tucking his finger beneath your chin until he can see you. “Never had anything as sweet as you.”

Your heart returns to your throat, and there’s a sort of longing in your stomach that can’t be tamped. You aren’t sure if you want to laugh or cry, so you merely release a soft sigh and finish closing the wound.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” you ask of him again. “Really?”

He runs his tongue over his cracked lip. “Sometimes.”

“And would they let you leave? If you wanted to?”

The silence is deafening. 

His thumb moves to your mouth, brushing over the pink fibers that part for him. “Maybe one day I’ll be brave enough to find out.”

It’s not a perfect answer. But it’s the one you choose to cling to, reaching up to squeeze his wrist in desperation.

You suppose this explains more than you realized. Why he won’t tell you who he really is. Why he won’t let you into his world. Why he insists on keeping you safe.

But it only makes this new reality that much heavier.

“Just make me a promise, okay?” you exhale. “Promise me that you’ll be all right. That you’ll stay safe. That you won’t…”

The unspoken word carries a weight that nearly crushes you, and he seems to understand as he squeezes your chin.

“That you’ll always come back,” you finish.

“I promise,” he says, even if you both know it’s not a promise he can make. “Always.”

You kiss him. Quickly and without pause, surging forward until your mouth meets his. You take his lips between your own, careful to mind the cut while remembering just how much he enjoys the sting.

Instantly, his hand curls around the back of your neck, tugging you as close as he can get you. Tongues tangling, teeth clashing, and soft grunts that reverberate all the way down to your chest.

“Careful,” you gasp, attempting to pull back when he guides you between his legs. “Your cut—”

“Don’t care,” he whispers, bringing you back to nip at your bottom lip. “Don’t fucking care.”

You whimper against him, hands resting delicately on his chest. “Har—”

“I know. Just missed you. Really missed you, sweet girl.”

He tugs you between his thighs and you allow yourself to be moved. Melting into his touch as he uses his height advantage to fully take control of you. In more ways than one. 

Desperate pants fill the tiny bathroom, and you can’t help but feel undone by him. Already feeling a certain throbbing in the pit of your stomach that can’t be tamed by anything else but him.

“Harry,” you try again, moving your hands to his hair. Carding your fingers through his matted, bloody curls. “Please…”

And then…you feel it. Rather, you feel him. Hard and prominent, pressing right up against you. 

You gasp, and he rests his forehead against yours. Cursing to himself when you nudge yourself forward.

And that’s when you realize. 

“Does pain turn you on?”

There’s a quick pause before he nods once. Trailing his lips along your cheek and toward your throat.

Your head spins. “Really?”

Another motion of his head. “It’s not really pain when it’s you.”

Breathlessly, you drop your touch to his lap, palming him through his dark jeans while he groans again and buries his nose in your neck. Inhaling you deeply while bracing himself against your knelt frame.

“Think it’s my turn now,” you say. “My turn to be good.”

The grip on your neck tightens, and you can feel him release a warm exhale against your collarbone before he’s kissing just below your ear.

Then, he shakes his head, and mumbles, “No.”

You stop, fingers freezing over the bulge between his thighs. “What?”

“No,” he repeats gently. “S’not about me. Wanna make this about you.”

You lean back just far enough to catch his eye. “But—”

“There are a lot of things I’ll never be able to give you. Or do for you,” he explains gingerly. “But I can do this. I want to do this, sweet girl. Wanna give you the fucking world because it’s what you deserve.”

You consider this for only a moment before settling on the floor. “Har…”

His head shakes once more. Thumb stroking the curve of your jaw while tilting your eyes up. “Never be able to tell you how beautiful you are. I don’t…I can’t even understand it. You’re perfect, Cherry. So fucking perfect, and I will spend the rest of my life wanting to be near you.”

It’s a sweet sentiment. One that nearly knocks the wind from your lungs as you gaze at him.

“Wanting to taste you…” he continues, dipping down to brush his nose against yours. “Feel you…touch you. You…are the best goddamn thing I will ever have.”

You whimper, pushing yourself closer until he finally kisses you. “Then let me…”

But he merely smiles. “One day, sweet girl. I promise.”

You want to push. You almost want to insist that he let you take his cock into your mouth, but the look on his face is resolute. Decisive. You aren’t changing his mind, at least not tonight.

And you decide that maybe it’s for the better. His body needs to rest in order to heal, and perhaps any extra strain would hurt him or rip the stitching.

So, you oblige. “Fine. But I’m holding you to that.”

With a chuckle, he kisses you again. “Good girl.”

The kisses grow more frantic. About as frantic as before, and you have to physically yank yourself out of his grasp in order to calm yourself down.

“No,” you say this time as you stand. “No, you need to lay down. And rest. Okay? Give your body time to heal. And get better.”

He watches you go, but he’s unconvinced, already looping an arm around your hips to pull you back. “This is how I get better.”

And even though you’re concerned for his health, you can’t deny the pulsing between your thighs. “Harry—”

“You make me better,” he says, trailing his lips along your arms, all the way down to your palms. “Always. Fucking always—”

You whine beneath a strained breath, your other hand dropping to his head as you tug on his hair.

In turn, he moans against you, and your knees about buckle. “Let me get better…please…”

And it’s almost like he doesn’t realize he’s said it. A subconscious thought that’s whispered against your skin until it becomes one with your bloodstream.

“Want to,” you say. “I want to, but you need to rest. I need you to rest, Har.”

“I am,” he tries to argue, glancing up through those thick lashes of his. “This is me resting.”

“Harry—”

“Please,” he nearly groans again, pressing his nose into your stomach. “God, please, Cher. Please. M’so fucking lost on you, I can’t…I need…”

He told you once that you’re like a drug to him. That he goes through withdrawals if you’re not near. If he’s gone too long without you.

And, truthfully, you feel about the same. Feeling strung-out and shaky without his touch. Even the sound of his voice. It’s borderline pathetic, yet you don’t ever want to be rid of him.

“You need to rest,” you repeat, although you’re losing conviction. “I want to, but I can’t…I’m worried. You shouldn’t move, you should rest.”

The air becomes charged as he looks back up. “Then ride my face.”

You hesitate. “What?”

“Ride my face,” he says again, practically groaning the instruction. “S’easy, right? Won’t have to move. I’ll just hold you, yeah?”

You feel the heat rush into your cheeks as you blink down at him. “I…you’re already hurt. I don’t want to suffocate you, too—”

“God, suffocate me,” he sighs, grabbing onto the backs of your thighs. Squeezing the flesh in his strong, battered hands pleadingly. “You’d never hurt me, baby, ever. S’all I fucking want. Don’t want anything else but you. Only you. All of you. Want you everywhere.”

And you believe him. You do. But the idea of…and being that close…

“What…but what if it’s too much?” you murmur. “What if I’m too…—”

“Never.” A firm shake of his head. “Fucking never. You would never be too much. Believe me. Tasting you is the only good thing in my life.”

There’s a catch in your throat that you swallow down. “I just…I’ve never…”

His expression softens. Thumbs brushing at your exposed skin before squeezing once more. “It’s okay. S’okay, sweet girl, really. Don’t have to if you don’t want to. Don’t have to do anything at all. But…I promise you…you could never do anything wrong. Ever. You breathe and you’re perfect.”

And he’s so honest. So good. You know he means it, know he’d never lie about something like this. And you do trust him. More than anything. Trust that he’d never judge you or want anything more from you than what you’re willing to give.

“If you say no, then it’s no,” he adds gently. “End of. Promise.”

But that’s not your problem. You’d happily do anything and everything with him. But you’re worried about his injuries and all the blood he’s already lost. Granted, his suggestion would perhaps be the best alternative, but…

“Fine,” you whisper, squeezing his curls in your fist. “Okay. But you need to be very careful and very still. And if it starts to hurt, we stop. Okay?”

There’s a wicked gleam in his eye. One you recognize all too well, yet it merely makes your pulse jump.

“Okay,” he agrees, almost mischievously. “Deal. Just lead the way.”

You bite back a whimper before glancing toward his knuckles. “I need wrap your hands first—”

“No,” he interjects. “No, leave ‘em. Just for right now. Wanna see them when I hold you.”

And there’s something about the idea that leaves you breathless, making your nails curl into his scalp as if to drag him closer. “Are you sure—”

“Yes.” He tugs on the hem of your dress again, almost as though trying to rip it off. “Yes, m’sure. Please, Cher…”

And you have no choice but to oblige.

You reach down, take his hand, and pull him onto his feet. Quickly and impatiently leading him out of the bathroom and down the hall to your room before pushing the door open and bringing him inside.

He only takes a moment to look around, eyebrows raised while a smile plays at his lips. He studies the array of artwork you have displayed, the baby blue paint on your walls, and the plethora of pillows that sit near your headboard. He seems…enchanted, almost, and it makes you giddy.

“S’cute,” he decides, offering his smirk to you. “Very cute. Very you.”

“Thanks,” you reply anxiously, already looping your arms around his neck in order to yank him back down. “Please?”

He chuckles against your lips before dropping his hands to your waist, nodding once, and pushing you back. “Do you trust me, baby? Trust me to take care of you?”

“Yes,” you answer instantaneously. “Yes, always.”

“Yeah? Know I’ll take care of you?”

“Yes.”

He drops you onto the bed before chasing after you. Lips on your cheek, your neck, your chest. Fingers playing with the buttons on your chest before he whispers, “Can I take this off, sweet girl?”

You motion your head almost frantically, leaning back to give him room.

He undoes your dress and slips it over your head in a matter of seconds. Leaving you in nothing but your underwear as he tosses it toward the floor before surging forward to kiss you again.

He’s seen you before. Seen your chest, your stomach, your thighs. But never in the privacy of your own home, and the way he seems to look at you now feels as though it changes everything. Like he’s looking at you for the very first time.

“Baby,” he breathes, pulling your lip between his teeth before groaning. “God…s’fucking cruel you have to hide this behind such a hideous dress.”

You grin against his mouth, scooting back in order to make space for him. “Then maybe you should come around and take it off more often.”

He likes this idea, chuckling to himself before grabbing hold of your hips, and flipping over onto his back. Effectively pulling you with him until you’re straddling his waist.

With a gasp, you glance down to his newly stitched cut, quickly inspecting in order to make sure nothing has been ripped or pulled. “Harry, you can’t—”

“Shh,” he coos, pulling on the back of your neck to bring you down again. Nose nudging with yours. “M’okay. I’ll tell you, yeah?”

“But—”

“I’m all right,” he insists quietly. “Promise. Just need you.”

You swallow the rest of your complaints, allowing your body to be pulled into his before he’s moving both hands to your naked thighs. Stroking along the tender, soft flesh and kneading it tenderly.

“Think you’re ready, baby?” he whispers. “Hm? Gonna let me have a taste?”

And even if you’re somewhat apprehensive, the lust that swims within the bottom of your stomach makes you whimper. Urging you to say, “Yes. Yes, I’m ready.”

“Good girl,” he hums, gliding his palms toward your ass before patting it once. “Up you go.”

You imagine you seem somewhat terrified, but his look of encouragement goes straight to your cunt. Encouraging you up his body until you can place your knees on either side of his head.

“Good,” he breathes, eyes already gluing to your panties. “So good, baby. Can you hold onto me? Hold onto my hair? And tug it if it’s too much?”

You nod weakly and drop your fingers to his curls. Brushing them gently while he smiles, lashes fluttering.

“Good girl,” he says again, and it makes you clench around nothing. “M’gonna pull you down now, okay? Don’t worry about anything. Just let me make you feel good. Promise I’ll be all right.”

You whimper beneath a deep breath before nodding again and allowing him to guide you down to his face.

You feel the tip of his nose ghost across the edge of your panties, right near your clit. And you can help but buck up, gasping as you squirm away from the stimulating touch.

But his hold on you is unrelenting, tightening when he feels you twitch before yanking you back into position.

“Uh-uh, sweet girl, none of that,” he warns softly, mouth dancing down your covered cunt. Tauntingly. Deviously. “M’just having some fun, yeah? Gonna let me have fun with such a pretty pussy?”

When you don’t answer, he gently smacks his hand against the side of your thigh.

“Yes,” you answer quickly, gathering his curls in your fist. “Yes, I…I will.”

“Mm. Good. Cause m’having so much fun with you, Cher. You know that? Always have fun getting to play with what’s mine.”

This possession sends chills down your spine and your chest heaves from the way he flattens his tongue against your underwear before dragging it down.

He seems to bask in your whines, moaning against your cunt before curling his fingers into your skin. Forcing you down even further until you’re nearly sat on his mouth.

His technique is sinful. Just enough to tease you and leave you wanting more. Effortlessly casting out any doubts or hesitation as you begin to settle in his hold, permitting him to keep you against his tongue until he sighs contently.

“Fucking killing me, baby,” he says, lifting you up in order to reach for the soft material against your pussy and drag it to the side. “Ready, sweet girl?”

You nod quickly.

“Promise to tug me if it’s too much or you want to stop?”

“Yes…yes, Har, please—”

“I know,” he shushes. “Just so well behaved for me, aren’t you? Hold still for me, all right?”

You go to nod again, but before you can, his lips are meeting your clit. Pressing the most innocent of kisses to the sensitive nerves until you choke on his name and yank his curls.

He seems to realize this aggression has more to do with the pleasure than the pain, and you can practically feel him smirk into your cunt before he does it again. Over and over and over, making your eyes roll back and your throat run dry with desperate pants and whimpers.

Then…he sucks. Takes your clit into his mouth before flattening his tongue and dragging it through.

You’ve never felt this kind of stimulation. This kind of overwhelming pleasure that goes directly to your toes.

Sure, he’s eaten you out before, but he’s never been this…close. He’s devouring you from the inside out. Forcing you against his mouth as though his life depends on it. 

The hold on your hip is unforgiving, and you’re almost sure you’ll see remnants of him on your skin tomorrow. The tips of his fingers tattooing to your waist and marking you as his forevermore. 

You aren’t sure what to do with yourself. Overcome with lust and infatuation for the man between your thighs. The way he expertly slides his lips through your folds, drowning in you.

The tip of his tongue teases your hole, and you feel him groan at the way your pussy flutters from the slight intrusion. And the vibration of his greed makes your hands tighten in his hair. Nail scraping so hard down his scalp, you’re sure you’ll draw blood.

But he loves it. Seems to thrive off it. Going in a bit further before dragging your arousal up to your clit and flicking.

Then, he swallows you down.

“Harry,” you gasp, and you wish you could see him. Wish more than anything that you could gaze down at his face and watch while he does this to you. 

He always tends to get a sort of mesmeric look in his eye when he’s making you cum. Almost like he’s in a trance. Hypnotized by your body, drunk off the way he’s making you feel.

You imagine that’s about how he looks now, and you’d give anything to see those beautiful, hazy eyes just once.

“You’re okay,” he whispers, pulling away just long enough to speak. “You’re okay, yeah?”

You nod quickly. “Yes. Yes, I’m okay. I promise—please…”

He understands your request perhaps better than anyone and smiles to himself before going back in. It’s far too easy to unravel you, it seems. All he has to do is suck, and flick, and slide his mouth along your dripping pussy, and you’re done for. Already nearing release before he’s even really begun.

He senses this, and instantly goes harder. Faster. Tongue fucking into your clenching hole relentlessly until you cry out his name…and let go.

You hardly have time to register what’s happening or warn him of your impending orgasm. Nor do you have the time to remove yourself from him before accidently crushing him between your thighs and beneath your weight.

Yet through every second, he holds on. Keeps you exactly where you were, stuck in his hold, glued to his tongue. Until every drop of your cum belongs to him.

“Har…Harry,” you pant, uncurling your fingers from his hair. “Okay, it’s okay…I came, I—”

“I know,” he mumbles, leaving another kiss to your clit. “And you’re gonna do it again.”

It’s resolute. He leaves no room for bargaining or questioning before he’s going back in. Quick flicks of his tongue through your pussy until you feel breathless.

It’s sloppy. Everything about it is sloppy and wet. The sounds, his technique. The way he makes out with your cunt as though it’s the best thing he’s ever had. And, truthfully, you imagine he believes it is.

He repeats the movement of his tongue along the overstimulated nerves until you begin to shake. Never letting up, even when you begin to whine rather pitifully. Instead, he squeezes your waist, and keeps you close. Makes sure you take every second of this blissful affliction until you cum for a second time. 

The moment you do, he readjusts his hold on your panties in order to slip a finger inside. Forcing you up onto your knees so he can nip at your clit and fuck his finger into you with a newly determined fervor.

“Harry,” you cry out again, moving one hand to your headboard to brace yourself. “Can’t…can’t—”

“You’re all right,” he hums, the tip of his nose pressing hard into your skin. “You’re all right, sweet girl. Just want one more, okay?”

 And you believe him. You do believe you’re all right, even if the painful pleasure he’s dragging you into nearly kills you. Making your legs shake and your lungs heave.

You want to give him another. You want to give him all of your orgasms, forever. And he knows this, so he adds a second finger, and pumps you mercilessly.

The sound echoes through your room, loud and lewd. But it intertwines beautifully with his soft murmurs of encouragement: 

“Good, baby, just like that. Fucking squeezin’ me, aren’t you? Hm? S’it feel good? Feel so good to ride my face?”

You can’t answer. Want to. Can’t. Skin growing hot as sweat beads at your hairline. Muscles burning, aching, crying out for reprieve.

But all you really feel…is him.

“One more, come on,” he urges, increasing the speed of his tongue and his thrusts. “Can feel how close you are, sweet girl. Know you want to, yeah?”

You whimper softly, body tensing with the impending release.

“Yeah? I know. Know you’re so close. Bet it hurts, doesn’t it? S’just too much for this sweet little pussy, hm?”

He curls those long digits into your cunt until you moan, thighs trembling beside his head as you attempt to keep yourself upright. “Har, please—”

“What? What do you need?”

Everything, all of it, whatever it takes. You aren’t even sure, you just need…more.

He moves his mouth to the inside of your leg. Kissing and sucking into the tender skin while his fingers continue to encourage you closer. 

“Just taste so good, don’t you?” He trails his lips back toward your cunt. Lazily mouthing at your clit as if to torture you. “Get so wet for me. S’precious. So fucking precious.”

He uses his fingers to spread you open. Exhaling against your dripping cunt until you begin to squirm. Writhing away from the sensation while he does it again.

“Mm-mm,” he tuts, pulling you closer. “Told you no, sweet girl. Said I could play with you, so I am. Thought you were behaving for me?”

He exploits your need to please him. To obey and win his approval, and it nearly drives you mad.

“Know it’s a lot, baby,” he coos next, slipping back inside and curling. “Know you’re all sensitive. Not used to being so overstimulated, are you?”

He’s right, you’re not. Apart from him, nobody else has ever really taken the time.

“Makes me wonder,” he continues gently. “Wonder how you touch yourself…here in this very room.”

He pulls your clit between his teeth and tugs until you gasp.

“Tell me, Cherry. Tell me how you touch yourself when I’m not around.”

Your mind goes blank. Darkening around the edges while you suck in quick pants for air.

“Tell me,” he repeats, coarse and riddled with an insatiable hunger. “Tell me what you think about. D’you think about me, baby? Think about how good you look on my tongue?”

You find just enough strength to nod as you squeeze his curls and whimper out your agreement. 

“Yeah? Go on, tell me.”

Your mouth drops open, yet nothing else comes out. Save for a plethora of pathetic whines and anxious mewling.

He seems to laugh, the low sound sending goosebumps across the back of your neck. “What’s the matter, Cher? Pussy got your tongue?”

You can hardly acknowledge the joke as you go reeling forward, just barely able to catch yourself against the headboard before collapsing. “You…you,” you finally groan. “Always you, Harry. Always.”

“Me?” You can hear the faux fascination. “You think about me, baby? What do you think about?”

What don’t you think about? “Your…your fingers,” you stammer. “And…and your mouth.”

“Yeah? Good girl. What else?”

You’re too close to think straight, already falling victim to your orgasm before it’s even found you. “You…your…your…”

“S’okay, baby, come on. Tell me.”

You swallow thickly and will yourself to speak. “Think…think about taking you. About how you’d feel. How you’d…be.”

“How I’d be, hm?” The hand on your hip tightens almost possessively. “How would you want me to be? How would you want me to fuck you?”

 An array of positions flash through your mind. The echoing of his groans and pants in your ear as he fucks you. The way he’d hold onto your leg and push it into the bed. The way he’d pull your hair and demand you take him. That you behave, be good. 

There’s something about him, you realize. Something about his dominance that makes you feel safe. Seen and cared for.

You want him to tell you what to do. Want to give him full control of your body and mind. Make your decisions for you so you don’t have to wrestle with them yourself. You trust him. Trust that he’d always put you first.

“Any way you want,” you finally answer. “Any…any way. Hard…slow…fast…deep. Just wanna be good for you.”

The noise he makes against your pussy is animistic. Virile and obsessed, and his mouth reattaches to your clit almost like a reward. 

“Good,” he nearly growls. “Know you would be. Know you’d be fucking perfect, yeah? Let me stretch this sweet, little pussy anyway I’d like?”

 “Yes. Yes, Harry, please—”

“Just take it, wouldn’t you? Take me so well?” He yanks you down so hard, you wonder if he can even breathe. Truthfully, you don’t think he cares either way. “What else do you think about, sweet girl? Think about me tying you up?”

You nod zealously, sneaking a glance at the headboard almost as though to recreate your fantasy. 

“Yeah? What else? Would you want me to spank you?” He follows this inquiry up with a quick – albeit gentle – slap to your outer thigh. “S’that what you want?”

“Harry—”

“What about your pretty, little throat, hm? D’you want me to hold it in my hand? Squeeze it till you see stars?”

The thought sends you into a frenzy. Stomach flipping in on itself until you’re clenching so hard around his fingers, you’re surprised they don’t break.

“Yeah? Oh, sweet girl,” he coos, slowly and almost inconspicuously sneaking a third digit into play. Filling you exactly the way you need. “My dirty little Cherry just wants to be taken care of, doesn’t she?”

You have nothing more to offer him. No more noises, no more whines, no more pleas. Your throat has gone dry, and your body is trembling almost violently.

He grins. “Then I’ll always take care of what’s mine.”

You’re not sure what does it. If it’s the way he strokes his fingers into that sweet spot in your cunt, the way he skims his tongue against your clit, or if it’s his promise. 

But no matter the cause, your third orgasm overwhelms you. Pulls you down into the deepest part of your pleasure before ripping you apart. Seam by seam.

He swallows every second of it. Attempting to drag the stimulation on for as long as he can before you have to psychically take yourself away in order to breathe. 

“Okay, okay,” you whimper, returning to the bed just beside him. “Can’t…I can’t…”

“Okay,” he agrees in a soft, soothing tone. Quicky reaching out to press his hand to your cheek while his thumb brushes at your heated skin. “Okay, we’re done. Did so good for me.”

Your lashes flutter as your vision slowly returns, and when you see him, you about moan.

During his ravaging of your pussy, the cut on his lip reopened, and now, blood is smeared across his mouth and chin. Glistening from his skin right beside the remnants of you.

You don’t imagine you’ve ever seen something so erotic. You also never imagined you’d find it so appealing, and yet the way it looks painted across his sharp jaw and swollen lips…

You surge forward and kiss him. So hard and so fast, you imagine you’ve made him dizzy. 

Instantly, his palm is pressing to the back of your head. Keeping you against his mouth while slowly pulling you back into his embrace. And he holds you against his chest while moaning something that sounds a lot like, “Fucking hell.”

 You kiss until the sun comes up. The soft, warm beams of light slipping through your curtains, setting the whole room – and your tired bodies – aglow. 

His mouth moves to your neck. “You still with me, baby?”

You smile. “Always.”

“Good.” He leaves one, final kiss. “And you’re feeling all right?”

“Mhm. Are you?”

“Oh, I’m more than all right, sweet girl. M’fucking perfect.”

He guides back onto his chest. Limbs tangling together as he puts your body between his legs until he can hold you properly. Even despite your fussing over his injuries.

But it’s not until you’ve begun to settle that you feel it. “Harry?” you whisper softly.

“Mm?”

“…did you cum?”

He smiles before pressing his lips to your forehead. “Yeah.”

“But I didn’t…I mean I didn’t get to—"

“You just have that effect on me, Cher,” he murmurs, snaking his arms a bit tighter around your frame. “Told you. Making you feel good is all I want.”

You glance, expression wounded. “Why won’t you let me help? I thought…I mean, you keep saying you want me to, but you never…you won’t let me.”

The bedroom falls silent as he considers this. The sage green in his eye melting into something golden from the reflection of the sunrise.

He reaches out and brushes his thumb across your mouth. Seeming to clean you of the blood that smeared when you kissed.

“I didn’t want this to be about me,” he finally says. “I never do.”

You merely frown. “But I want to do it. Do you not…I mean, do you think I can’t or something?”

A soft chuckle. “Oh, I know you can. Know you’d use this pretty little mouth just right, yeah?”

You nod.

“Yeah.” He squeezes your chin. “I meant what I said. One day. There are a lot of things I want to do with you. Be for you. But right now, I can’t…I’m not in a place where I can offer them to you. Not with…everything else going on.”

Your stomach sinks as you realize. You might not understand the complexities of his job or his life, but you do understand his concern. And you trust that he doesn’t make this decision lightly. 

“Besides,” he adds coyly, “they kind of have a rule about it.”

“Oh, do they?”

“Yeah. Something about reduced testosterone and decreased aggression. I don’t know, s’probably bullshit.” A nonchalant shrug. “Just means I get to keep the focus on you. Which is all I really want, anyway.”

“I can tell,” you tease, reaching up to brush your nose against his. “Why is that?”

“Because you’re perfect.” He says it so easily. As though it needs no thought. “Baby, you have no fucking idea how beautiful you are. Touching you is the closest I will ever get to heaven.”

You wonder how he does that. How he always manages to say exactly what you need to hear. And make you believe it. Every time.

You kiss him again, but it’s slow. Soft and gentle and full of an unspoken emotion that nearly overwhelms you. 

You fall asleep against his heart. His lips in your hair, your fingers on his chest. And for the next few hours, you dream of nothing but him.

By the time you wake, it’s nearly afternoon. Your muscles are sore and your body aches from the decisions and positions of the night before. 

But it’s a good sort of pain. The kind that reminds you of how willing you are to do it again.

You’re both quiet as you stir, and it’s comfortable. As though you’re used to waking up together. Exchanging nothing more than smiles and a hoarse, “Morning.”

After offering him some cereal, you ask if he’d like to take a shower. Maybe change into something else before you take him back to the diner so he can retrieve his car and you can pick up yours from your friend.

He politely declines, but he does agree to your stipulation that you check his wounds before you leave. He even stands perfectly still while you assess each cut and stitch in order to make sure everything is still in place.

Which to your surprise, it is.

Once you’ve gathered your things, you exit your apartment (after locking it as previously instructed), and head for the subway station.

It’s almost strange to see him in the light of day. He’s still as effortlessly striking as before, if not perhaps more. His skin looks a bit more tan, and his hair seems softer in the sun. But he walks with a kind of confidence you almost envy, slinging his arm around your shoulders just like the night before. This time, out of possession.

And you grin the whole way there.

It feels normal. Feels good. Natural. Like it was always meant to be. You and him. Always.

Your heart begins to sink with each step closer you get to the diner. You cling to his hoodie as though it physically hurts to say goodbye. And in turn, he pulls you in tighter to his heart, as if refusing to let you.

“I’ll walk you in,” he murmurs once you reach the parking lot, and you nod gratefully. Already taking in a deep breath as you prepare to watch him leave.

You see your car near the front of the diner, signaling that your friend is here to drop off the keys. And you almost feel nervous because you aren’t sure how to explain Harry. Or if you even need to explain him at all. 

If he’d want you to.

A part of you wants to protect him from everybody else. From their prying eyes and inquisitive questions. From their haughty, judgmental stares and this idea that they know who he really is.

Instead, you take his hand in yours, and squeeze. Offering him one last smile to hold you over until you see him again.

Which you can only hope will be soon.

He pushes the door open and leads you inside. Loosening his grip on you almost regretfully while your heart sinks down into your toes.

But the moment you both step beneath the light, he stops. Suddenly and with a strained inhale as fingers retighten around yours, halting you in place.

Concerned, you glance over the side of his face rather curiously before following his eyeline further into the diner.  

And that’s when you see him. 

“Hey, thanks again for letting me borrow your car,” your friend says, sliding off one of the barstools in order to hand you your keys. “I really appreciate it. It was a huge help.”

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” you murmur before looking back to the tense man beside you. “Uh…this is my friend, Jesse. And Jesse, this is—”

“Harry,” Jesse says for you, lips curling up almost knowingly before he’s nodding once. 

Now even more confused, your head tilts while Harry’s skin instantly pales, his jaw clenching as his grip on your hand gets stronger.

But despite your muddled expression, Jesse merely chuckles to himself and steps forward, dragging his eyes from you to the tall stranger holding you.

“I see you finally found my girl.”

EEEEE I AM HAVING WAY TOO MUCH FUN

Previous Part:

~ Knockout*

~ Full Knockout Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgff@myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @lovebittenbyevans @caynonmoondreams @amberbambridge @percysaidnever @prettydelilah @ripesinner @fairytale07 @hannah9921 @mitochondrialeva-blog1 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @buckybarnessimpp @lomlhstyles @be-with-me-so-happily @daphnesutton @ribbonknives @stylesfever @slutforcoffein @rainycowbride @harringtonhundreds @kaybee87 @youcan-nolonger-run @tobesocoldasyou @dylanobandposts21 @cherryshouse

[lovesickforhim]

Tease Me*

Summary: An extra for Teach Me*

The one where you and your best friend, Harry, are invited to a Haunted House.

But ghosts aren’t the only fun thing about this party.

(For my non-spooky besties, the house isn't actually haunted! Just old and abandoned! There are no jump scares💞)

Word Count: 9.5k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, slight exhibitionism, Daddy kink, masturbation, creampie, slight breeding kink, fluff, subspace, Harry being a simp

“Holy…shit.”

The large mansion looms into view. A tall, skeletal structure that’s brightened by the soft glow of the full moon. Hidden behind tall pines and a collection of dancing shadows, it stands like a sentinel of forgotten secrets. Ivy drips from the rotting wood, and boards cover a majority of the windows. The once grand façade bearing the scars of time.

You can see a collection of breathtaking stained glass windows lining the top story of the house. You can’t exactly make out the artwork from this distance, but you know, undoubtedly, that they’re beautiful. Only imagining what those reflections might look like in the sunlight.

The car sneaks along the gravel driveway, the sound of rocks and crunching leaves following you every inch of the way. You feel your breath hitch as you glance over toward Harry, who returns your look with a cocked brow of his own.

He pulls up next to the only other car on the lot. Rather, the only other car for miles. From the passenger seat, you can see Charlie, Jackie, and Caleb all huddled around the hood, conversing in hushed voices, and waving at you both in greeting.

Harry shifts into park before leaning back in his seat to turn his attention to you. “Well?”

You suck in a quiet breath before nodding once. “It’s…spooky.”

“Mhm.”

“And…big.”

“Thanks, but I meant the house,” he replies cooly, and you can’t help but grin.

“Funny. Honestly, I don’t think this is what I was expecting.”

“No?” He considers this with a nod of his own. “I guess it’s more ugly than scary. Caleb said he used to come here all the time when he was a kid. His brother claimed it was haunted.”

“Ooo,” you tease, and Harry smirks. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

He lifts a shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t ever really think about it.”

“That’s fair.”

Now his expression twists into something more mischievous as he leans closer to you. “But…if any ghosts come out and try to steal you from me, I have no problem sending ‘em back to the afterlife.”

You laugh again as you playfully swat your hand across his arm before surging forward to kiss him. “You’re an idiot, baby.”

“Yeah. But m’your idiot.”

“Unfortunately.”

He laughs.

With that, you both unbuckle your seatbelts and step out of the car, joining your friends just beside the front steps of the mansion. 

“Well, well, well,” Charlie grins, nodding his chin at the two of you. “Can’t believe you actually showed. Thought Har-Bear wasn’t into Halloween.”

Harry offers another shrug; relaxed but amused. “I’m not. But I wouldn’t mind seeing you get the shit scared out of you.”

Charlie’s expression falls while the rest of you laugh. “Okay, funny. Hysterical. Caleb’s the one that pissed himself when he was here last.”

“I was ten, dipshit,” Caleb snorts. “And I didn’t piss myself, I just screamed a little.”

“Right,” Jackie teases, nudging him with her elbow. “Whatever you say, champ.”

Caleb’s eyes roll, but he’s smiling as the five of you begin to make your way up onto the porch. “You’ll see. It’s spooky.”

“I’m sure we will, bud,” Charlie replies, tossing him a wink. “And after you go running back to the car in tears, we’ll make sure to lock up for you.”

“Thanks.”

“Welcome.”

With a soft laugh, Harry looks over at you. “You scared, Bee?”

“Me? Scared?” you snort. “Never.”

“Good.” He tosses his arm around your shoulder and tugs you into his chest. “Nothing to be scared of while I’m here.”

The other two boys pretend to be annoyed while Jackie offers you both a cheeky grin. “You guys are sickeningly sweet.”

“Oh, we know,” Harry answers impishly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I mean, I do a majority of the heavy lifting. But Bee’s pretty cute, too, I suppose.”

“Hysterical,” you deadpan, using your elbow to shove him away as you all approach the front door.

Your little group slows to a stop, exchanging glances and deep breaths as Caleb slowly says, “…are you ready?”

The air is laced with anticipation and excitement, and the four of you nod before his hand outstretches for the door.

 It opens with a shrill screech as a flock of birds fling from their spot on a nearby branch and take off into the ghostly night sky. 

With a deep breath, Caleb leads you all into the house, head held high, and shoulders back. The mansion is dark and the floorboards creak beneath your sneakers. The air is musky and cobwebs drape from each corner of the doorframe.

Quicky, you all search for your cellphones and flashlights, flipping them on to illuminate the path before you. Revealing a bit more of the corridor as you make your way inside.

“Shit,” Charlie murmurs, eyes wide as his focus flicks from wall to wall. “All right, maybe you weren’t kidding.”

“Told you,” Caleb retorts, peeking his head into the first room. “It’s not exactly scary, but it is cool as hell.”

“No kidding,” Jackie chimes in while you nod. “How many rooms are there?”

“No idea. But there are at least three levels. Plus, the attic, but Zac and I could never figure out how to get up there.”

“I’ll find it,” Charlie declares confidently, and Harry shoots you a knowing smirk. “What? If anyone can, it’s me.”

“I’m sure,” Caleb huffs, slipping in to what looks to be the drawing room. “By all means, go ahead. Honestly, we can split up and check out the other rooms. There’s a lot of cool shit here.”

Charlie nods once, running the light from his phone down one of the walls. Examining the faded wallpaper and dust-covered picture frames.

With a cock of his brow, Harry leans closer, nudging his shoulder against yours. “What do you say? Wanna do some exploring?”

You grin eagerly, nodding as well. “Yeah. Maybe we’ll find the attic first.”

You catch Charlie’s frown out of the corner of your eye, but the five of you can’t help but laugh as Harry leads you toward the next hallway.

The group disperses, with Charlie and Jackie searching the kitchen, Caleb ascending the stairs to the second floor, and you and Harry beginning for some of the bedrooms. 

The house is quiet. Eerily so, with only the sound of your footsteps to accompany you. And even with two flashlights, you can only see a portion of the narrow hallway at a time. From the wooden trim to the chipped paint. 

You fall in line behind Harry’s taller frame, allowing him to guide you toward the furthest room as he strides with a confidence you envy. Unaffected by the sounds, and smells, and ghostly aurora. 

“You all right back there, Bee?” he calls after a moment more of your silence. Seeming to catch your strained inhales and lack of commentary. “Still with me?”

“Yes,” you whisper, but it’s airy. As though your voice has been swept away by the hands of a ghost. “Just…trying not to trip.”

Even without seeing the full of his face, you can tell he’s smiling. “Come on, lovey, you know I’d catch you.”

“Uh-huh,” you murmur, lashes fluttering as you glance up toward the old chandelier dangling from the tall ceiling.

Suddenly, Harry stops, forcing you to catch yourself against him before he glances at you. “Hop on.”

Confused, you blink. “What?”

“Hop on,” he repeats, placing his cellphone between his teeth while crouching down. Allowing you access to his back in an invitation to climb up.

And once you finally understand, you can’t help but smile. Slipping your arms around his shoulders before hoisting yourself onto his body. Legs curling around his hips while his hands reach back to keep you sturdy.

Once you’re settled, you gently pull the phone from between his lips and aim the fluorescent gleam across the room. Providing him a bit more light to see as he straightens up.

“Thank you, baby,” he hums. “You all right?”

“Mhm. Are you?”

“Very. Just make sure to hold on, yeah?”

You grin a bit wider and tuck your chin over his shoulder. “Promise.”

With that, he begins down the hall, keeping his fingers tight around your ankles. “All right, baby dove, where do you wanna go first?”

Vaguely, you gesture toward the closest room. From the small sliver your light catches, you can see that it’s filled with large curtains and furniture draped in cloth. It looks…reminiscent. Calling to you and inviting you to step inside a lost era, a forgotten memory. 

He carries you closer, and as he strides through the murky corridor, you use the height advantage to look around. Taking in the more subtle details of the old house.

The hand railing beside the staircase. The broken floor beneath you. The cracked light fixtures and dusty bookshelves. 

You can’t imagine the life that was lived. The parties they threw, the elegance that sang from every corner, the memories that were created.

You wonder about the people who built it. Wonder what they were like, what made them leave. If they ever reminisce about the old house they used to call home.

“It’s beautiful,” you find yourself saying, exhaling the sentiment almost fondly.

Harry hums again, eyes trailing across the expanse of the carpet underneath his shoes. “Shame nobody ever bought it and fixed it up.”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly. “Maybe we should.”

He smiles at this, squeezing your legs a bit tighter. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm. Wouldn’t it be fun? A little passion project?”

“Maybe. Don’t know what we’d do with all this space, though.”

You shrug. “Well, we’d have plenty of room to storm off if we got into a fight.”

He laughs. “Yeah?”

“And we’d have plenty of places for…you know, other things.”

“Other things,” he repeats knowingly, glancing back with a smirk. “I do love our other things.”

You snuggle closer. “And if we ever wanted to start a family…we’d have room for that, too.”

He’s quiet now, his tongue slowly sweeping across his bottom lip in thought. “D’you think about our family, Bee?”

“I do,” you admit, almost sheepishly. “Sometimes. Not, like…right away, or anything. But…I just wonder, I guess. What you’d be like. What we’d be like.”

“Yeah? And how are we?”

“We’re good,” you tell him. “You’re the fun parent. Of course. And I’m the one that makes them do their homework and eat their veggies.”

He grins. “Of course.”

“And they have your hair. Lots of curls, very wild.”

“Mm.”

“And they love to sing. They aren’t good at it…but they love it.”

He laughs a bit louder this time, head shaking as he brushes his thumbs across the exposed skin of your ankles. “Sounds about right.”

“And we’re really happy,” you finish tenderly. “And we have two dogs, and one cat. And nothing changes between us. We’re still us, and we still love each other a lot, and we still go on tons of adventures and have really good, wild sex.”

He’s smiling so hard, you can see his dimples. “I wouldn’t want anything less.”

“Me, either.”

You fall silent as Harry finally brings you both into the large room, ducking beneath the frame to make sure you don’t hit your head. You kiss the side of his jaw gratefully before he sets you down with a gentle plop, allowing you both to straighten up and take a look around.

Sizable paintings hang from each wall. Encased behind gold, elegant frames that are layered with a light film of dust. Even still, the artwork is breathtaking. Portraits of what look to be great men and women. Soft brush strokes that are wildly vivid, despite the many years stuck in this dark room.

Harry takes his flashlight from you and aims it toward the green, velvet sofa in the middle of the vast space. Eyes wide as he studies it. “A lot of this stuff is in better shape than I thought it’d be.”

You make a noise of agreement as you gingerly run your fingers along the faded wallpaper. “I wonder what made them leave this all behind?”

“I don’t know. S’probably worth a fortune.”

“And it’s still here? Nobody came and looted it?”

He sports a rather charmed grin at your choice of wording. “Guess not. Kind of strange, honestly. City never reclaimed it, either.”

“Yeah…”

He glances over, a mischievous glint behind the soft green. “Maybe there’s a reason.”

“What?”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Maybe…the ghosts won’t let it go.”

Finally understanding his joke, you roll your eyes with a snort before striding toward the giant bookshelf. “Ha, ha.”

“Maybe the owners died in the fifties,” he continues, dropping his voice to a lower drawl. Attempting to add a bit of mystique and suspicion. “Maybe they were murdered in cold blood. And they never found out who killed them, so they haunt the grounds of their old house. Until the day their killer dares to come back.”

You pretend to be intrigued, nodding along with faux fascination. “Uh-huh. Which makes us…what? Ghost bait?”

“Mmm…perhaps,” he murmurs, stalking toward you. “Perhaps that’s why Caleb really brought us here. To feed us to his ancestors. Appease the Halloween Gods.”

“Right.”

He closes the distance between you, angling the beam of his light up toward his face as dark shadows dance across his features. “Or maybe Caleb isn’t Caleb at all. Maybe…he’s a ghost—”

Suddenly, he jolts forward, making you gasp as you steel yourself from the sudden movement. Eyes wide and heart racing.

But once you realize he’s merely messing with you, you begin to glare. Scoffing, “God, you’re an ass.”

He drops his cellphone and beams at you. Much too smug with his victory. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I won’t resist drop kicking your ass out that window.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckles, peering down at you with a delicate look of adoration before he’s pressing his lips to yours. “Forgive me?”

You try to pout into the kiss, but he’s too good. Warm and soft and the definition of comfort. “Hm. Fine. Just this once.”

He offers one final peck before returning to his search. Hands sweeping along the grimy bookshelves, fingers trailing down the broken spines. He seems lost in thought, and you watch almost fondly as he reaches out for one particular title.

“Frankenstein,” he reads aloud, tilting it back with a smile. “Used to be my favorite growing up.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. My mom used to read it to me all the time.”

And you feel this undeniable tug on your heartstrings as you settle behind him, arms slipping around his middle. “What did you like about it?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I liked the idea of something so…broken being so beautiful. Or maybe it was just the idea of how he was built. And why. You know?”

“Yeah. I think it’s sweet you liked it so much. You never told me.”

“I mean, I stopped reading it as I got older. I think I just liked the way my mom read it to me. She’d do all these voices, try to freak me out.”

You laugh. “Yeah, that sounds like her.”

“It was great. I loved it. S’probably one of my favorite memories growing up.”

And there’s that yanking in your chest again. “You’re cute, you know that?”

He smirks. “Thanks.”

With that, he releases the book, allowing it to fall back into place on the shelf beside the other novels.

But, the moment it lands, a startling and rather jarring rumble explodes from somewhere behind you. Compelling a jump as you both spin around in search for the offending sound.

And there, just beside the old grandfather clock that sits near the door, hangs one of the large paintings. This one of a beautiful woman wearing a stunning, purple grown and a coy smile. Yet, her portrait is moving. Sliding across the wall as if by magic until you’re able to see what lies behind.

A passageway. 

You suck in a gasp as you and Harry both shine your lights into the dark opening. Finding nothing more than a narrow stairway that disappears into somewhere else in the house.

You look to Harry.

Harry looks to you.

“What the fuck,” he whispers, but you can see the excitement weaving through his dimple. “That’s…the coolest shit I’ve ever seen.”

You can’t help but agree, feet drawing you closer, as if compelled by the mesmeric introduction and inviting shadows. “Yeah…”

Footsteps follow you. “Bee, hold on. We don’t know where it goes or if we can get back out.”

Now, you hesitate, considering the rather valid point. “It probably leads to the attic. Caleb said he couldn’t figure out how to get up there, but I’m sure there’s a way back down. There’d have to be.”

“Maybe. Or maybe…that’s where the ghosts are waiting to lure us in—”

“All right,” you hiss, shoving on his arm before continuing for the door. “I will slap that dimple right off your face, I’m serious.”

“Well, you know I like it when you do.”

And even despite his teasing, you feel your stomach flip. Memories calling back to the forefront of your mind as you remember his pink skin and arrogant smirk. The way he’d beg you to keep going – give him more. 

“Can you please be serious?” you choose to say, reaching back for his hand as you approach the entrance. “Because if we die in here, I don’t want one of the last things we said to be one of your shitty jokes.”

He laughs, but intertwines his fingers with yours willingly. Squeezing your palm for comfort. “Sorry, lovey. By all means, please do lead us into the deathtrap. You’ll hear no more jokes from me. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“Good boy.”

He squishes your hand again knowingly before you take a deep breath and begin up the stairs. 

The walls are about five feet apart in width, providing a rather narrow space for the two of you to slip between as you ascend up into the rest of the house. The path curves like a spiral, up and up until you’re almost sure there’s nowhere else to go. And your head pops right out of the roof.

Then, you come to the last one, and see that it opens up and leads into something else. A vast, empty floor with more light that you’ve seen anywhere else in the house. 

Curious, you move a bit faster, eager to see what awaits. And once you step into the room…your breath catches.

Stained glass windows decorate each wall, the full moon projecting the most beautiful colors and imagery across the entire space. From the floor to the ceiling and every inch in between. It’s like walking into a rainbow. Or heaven. Such a stark contrast from the eerie journey up the stairs in nothing but darkness.

Harry’s shoulder brushes against yours as he steps up beside you. Eyes fluttering as he pockets his phone and glances about the room admiringly. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” you agree in a quiet whisper. Walking toward the first window as your fingers outstretch for the tempered glass. “It’s…it’s beautiful.”

“It is.” He follows you. “They must have loved it up here.”

You feel yourself smile. “I bet it was the perfect hideaway.” You motion toward the furthest wall where a dainty (but somewhat tattered) window seat lies. “Bet they came up here and just read or painted all day. Watched the sun rise and set.”

You feel him staring at you. Observing your profile as you continue to glance around, trying to soak in every little detail. 

Then, you feel him. His touch sweeping across your cheek before he’s brushing a bit of hair from your shoulder. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

You glance over.

“About us. Having kids, starting a family.” His expression is void of any of his previous taunting. Instead, solely focused on the soft skin of your jaw as he ghosts his thumb beneath your chin. “Is that what you really want? With me?”

And a part of your heart aches because…yes. You’d live a million lifetimes with him. With kids, without kids. Here, there. Fast-paced or easy-going. You’d do it all. You’d do everything with him.

Everything.

You reach up and slip your fingers around his wrist. Keeping him close as you nuzzle into his palm. “Of course I would, Har. Just want you.”

He steps closer, taking both sides of your face in his hands now as he keeps you in his strong hold. Gazing at you lovingly until you feel your insides twist. 

“I will give you anything you want, Bee,” he murmurs, and you can feel his promise dance across your lips. “Give you kids. Give you a big, beautiful home. Give you the life you deserve.”

You inhale quietly, desperately grasping onto his arms.

“Anything you want, baby,” he breathes, and you know how much he means it. “Give you fucking everything.”

Tears spring to your eyes, dancing along your waterline until one jumps down your cheek. Right into Harry’s waiting thumb where he quickly soothes it away. “You know I would,” you tell him in a timid whisper. “I promise, I would, I just…I can’t…”

His eyes soften when he understands, yet his head shakes as he brings your chest to his. “It doesn’t matter how or why. If we want to start a family, we can. Any way we want to. Any way you want to. Nothing else matters, lovey. Just wanna do it together.”

Together.

You stumble over a choked sob, burying yourself in his embrace while he dips down to kiss you. Harder than he has all night and filled with a kind of love that can’t be explained. Only felt through the synchronistic brushing of his lips against yours. 

“My girl,” he exhales, nudging his nose along your cheek before bringing his kisses back. “My fucking girl. Know I love you, yeah? Know you’re my only?”

You whimper, nodding pitifully as you allow him to take the reins. Deciding how far and how deep this kiss goes. 

“Good.” He drops his hands to your hips, squeezing once. “Because you are, Bee. Never loved anybody the way I love you.”

And you know – you know he means it. 

Something clicks in your brain. Something lustful and needy. You’re overcome with this anxious desire to have him. To be with him wholly. You want to crawl into his skin and live there. Be as close to him as possible. 

Show him exactly how much he means to you.

The kisses become hungrier. Sloppier. Rushed and borderline animalistic as you reach down and lace your fingers with his. Guiding him away from the wall and toward the carpet in the center of the room.

He seems to understand your intent. Smiling against your mouth as you move him where you want him.

“Sneaky girl,” he breathes, pressing his mouth to your neck. Nipping below your ear until you sigh contently. “S’that why you really wanted to come up here, hm? Wanted to get me alone? Have your way with me?”

And even though he’s effortlessly putting the power in your hands, you can’t help but feel swayed by him. Drawn in by his suggestion and prowess while your stomach flips in on itself.

“Maybe,” you admit quietly, grinning when he chuckles darkly. “Because maybe I know…you want me to have my way with you. Don’t you?”

He nods quickly, groaning almost to himself before he gropes at your waist and moves his kisses to your exposed collarbone. “Do anything you want, Bee. I meant it.”

Pleased, you take yourself away from him. “Good. Because I want you on your knees.”

And he almost looks disappointed that he’s had to stop kissing you, but the starvation behind his eyes is unmistakable. 

He drops so quickly, your head spins. Head tilted back and hands obediently landing on his thighs in wait. 

“Good boy,” you can’t help but mutter, reaching down to press your palm to his cheek in gratitude. “Always obey me so well.”

“Always,” he repeats reverently. Voice thick as though drunk with longing.

“Can’t take too long, okay? They might come looking for us, and I don’t think we’d ever be able to live that down,” you add, softening your tone some to ease the charged tension.

“I know,” he replies quickly. Almost pitifully, as if desperate to agree and make you happy. “Be quick, I swear.”

A grin splits your face. “Want you to take off your jeans, baby,” you instruct now, nodding toward his hips. “Just your jeans. Don’t want you to get cold.”

So, he does. Fumbling with his belt and button before dragging the dark fabric down his beautiful thighs, revealing his new tattoo. It catches the moonlight and the reflection of the red glass across the room. Drawing in your attention while your mouth nearly waters.

But he doesn’t seem to notice. Instead working quickly to rid himself of the material before returning to his knees. 

“Good. My jeans next,” you tell him, and he extends his hands toward your waist.

Just as quickly as before, he slips, pulls, and tugs until you can step out of your pants and toss them aside. Making sure to hold your hand as you do so you don’t lose your balance. 

It’s these little things that endear you to him. The way he doesn’t even realize he’s done something thoughtful. Instead offering such a gesture out of reflex and love.

“Thank you, baby,” you whisper, squeezing his chin once. “Now…I want you to lie back for me, okay? Don’t want you to do anything else. Just wanna take care of you.”

His Adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow, and you can nearly see his heart thumping against his chest. He’s on his back in seconds, obediently lying on the carpet with his focus trained on you. Eager to see what you have in mind. 

Truth be told, you’re rather eager, too. Crouching down near his ankles until you can straddle his legs.

He lifts his head off the floor in order to see you, glued to your every move while his breath hitches.

You begin to make your way up his body. Bringing your lips to the beautiful, warm skin of his thighs as you travel toward his hips. Allowing your kisses to guide you.

You hear him release a strained curse. Catching the way his chest rises and falls a bit more rapidly, as if in tune with his racing heart. And you’re going so slow, you think you might kill him. Dragging your tongue along the tattoo before flicking your eyes to his. Making sure you truly have his undivided attention.

His lashes flutter, leg twitching beneath you. “Bee…”

“Yes, baby?” Your coy innocence makes another groan reverberate from his chest. “What do you want, hm?”

“Please,” is all he has the strength to mumble, fingers twitching beside him. Desperate to weave through your hair and tug. “Lovey, please…”

“I know. But I wanna play with you a bit first, okay?” You straighten up and crawl toward the tops of his thighs, just above his dark boxers. “Gonna let me play with you, Daddy?”

Another quick nod before he drops his head back to the floor. Overcome with desire.

And you imagine you know what he thinks you’re going to do. That he’s confident in his guess as he awaits for you to confirm his suspicion.

But there’s something much more thrilling about catching him off guard. Torturing him just a little. 

Because you know he loves it.

Once you feel comfortable in your new position, you allow your hand to travel between your legs. Dancing beneath the hem of your sweater before settling atop your baby blue underwear.

Your light grazes are innocent at first. Soft strokes along the cotton fabric. Enough to earn a shiver while Harry’s eyes cement to your hand. Mesmerized by the way you touch yourself.

You hum at the faint but teasing touches. Feeling almost giddy to quench this flame. Create pleasure for yourself and allow him to watch you. See exactly how good it feels.

Then, you hook the fabric to the side, and allow him the perfect visual of your cunt.

You notice a sharp chill as the cold air nips at you, but it only aids in encouraging you further. Making you grin to yourself while you use your other hand to drag your fingers through your pussy. Slipping between your folds and up to your clit.

“Shit,” he murmurs, eyelids growing heavier. “Shit, Bee—”

You circle the sensitive nerves a few times to work yourself up. Indulging in the feel and the unexplainable relief it provides. It’s like a drug. Addicting and somehow not nearly enough.

“Baby, please—” he tries again, palms finally reaching for your thighs in an effort to touch you. At least somehow. “Fuck—”

“Thought you wanted to be good,” you say, pinching your clit until you gasp. “Thought…thought you wanted to give me anything—”

“I do,” he answers through a rushed breath. “Bee, I do. I do, please—”

“Then, I want you to watch. Want you to watch what you do to me.”

He groans again, and you can see the slight pink in his cheeks from the frigid air and the way he’s so entranced with you. “Lovey, please…”

You slip down, teasing the tip of your finger around your fluttering hole until you can feel the arousal beginning to gather. Humming while you roll your hips in tune with your hand. Riding your own fingers before you’re moving back to your clit.

“Har…” His name slips out before you can stop it. Sighing from your tongue without pause. As if it’s instinct to associate him with your pleasure. To say his name in a desperate plea for more.

You feel him squeeze your legs. Tighter than he ever has. “M’here,” he calls. “M’right here, baby. What do you need?”

Too much. “You, Har. You, always.”

He’s pulling on you now. Palms smoothing up the globes of your ass until he can practically yank you closer. “Just ask. Ask me, Bee, and I’ll give it to you.”

And you’re torturing yourself. Perhaps more than him, and you nearly whimper when you realize how badly you miss him.

So, you remove your hands from between your legs in order to reach for his boxers. Slipping inside and pulling his cock out until he lands against his stomach. Beautiful, and flushed, and leaking pearlescent drops that glisten beneath the light of the moon. 

And once it’s free, you grind down. Dragging your once more covered cunt along his shaft. Close, but not close enough. Just to provide a bit of friction and make him moan as you brace yourself against his chest.

Your nails curl into the dark material of his shirt, scraping down his stomach as you reel. It’s so much and yet not even close to satiating you. Merely taunting you with the idea of what you really want. A type of release that will never be truly satisfactory like this.

“Fuck—” A lewd moan scrapes from the back of his throat. Hands pressing hard into your hips to help roll you over his cock faster and quicker. “Gonna fucking kill me, Bee.”

You’d like to be smug, but you’re too far gone to feel anything but need. “Har—”

“Gonna cum like this, baby? S’this all it takes?”

“I’m…I…”

“Look so cute, lovey. So fucking cute, using my cock to get off. Feels so good, doesn’t it? Rubbing your pretty little pussy all over me?”

Your eyes roll back, head feeling heavy as your chin drops to your chest.

Then, you feel his thumb against the only part of your clit he can reach. Pressing into it just enough to make you whimper. “Shh. It’s okay, I’ve got you. Wanna cum? Go ahead, you can cum, Bee. Make me so happy…just wanna feel you—”

And you hate how quickly it hits you. Hate that you truly thought you’d be able to edge yourself until you made him break.

But it consumes you from the inside out. Blindsiding your dominance until it sweeps you under his current. You become a trembling, shaking, moaning mess above him.

“There you go. Good fucking girl. So good…s’perfect,” he murmurs, continuing to guide you through it until you nearly collapse. “Feel better, baby?”

You nod weakly, cracking your eyes open just enough to catch his look of approval.

“Good,” he replies before a dark look seems to take hold. Hungrier than you’ve ever seen him. 

Suddenly, he’s sitting up. Forcing you to lean back as his arms loop around your waist and he’s hoisting you both into the air. Straightening back onto his feet while carrying you in his arms toward the furthest wall.

You barely get the chance to glance around before he’s dropping you onto the small window seat, right against the painted glass.

With a gasp, you collide with the cushion (which is admittedly much more comfortable than the floor), gazing up at him with surprise and wonder.

He says nothing. He can’t. He’s lost in his need for you – for your pleasure. Crouching down near your legs in order to reach for your panties and rip them from ankles. And once they’ve been tossed aside, he settles his body between your thighs, and surges forward.

His mouth is the closest to heaven you imagine you’ll ever get. Warm and wet and so expertly kind as he drags his tongue between your soaked, sensitive folds. Flicking at your clit before sucking it into his mouth with the kind of sound that makes your chest cave in.

“Har—” you whine, writhing a bit from the overstimulation and intensified pleasure. He’s chasing after your next orgasm before your first has even subsided, and it nearly wrecks you. “Shit, Harry—”

Still, he has no response. There’s no time or room to speak with the way he nips at your cunt before lowering. Letting his tongue slide inside you before pulling it back. Just enough to leave you squirming.

“Harry,” you try again, reaching out to card your fingers through his hair. Tugging with fervor until he does it again. “Fuck…please—”

His hands find your thighs. Pushing them open even further until you can feel the strain on your muscles from such a stretch. 

He’s suffocating himself. Buried in your pussy, he takes whatever he wants. Greedily swallowing you down with lascivious groans and exhales of contentment. Fingers curling around your legs, leaving bruises along your sensitive skin.

He’s insatiable. Ignoring your cries and whimpers for mercy, instead pushing you back to the brink. Making you see stars before you can prepare yourself.

You’re all over his face. Can see yourself glisten off his chin and swollen lips, the stunning stained glass windows painting ethereal pictures of him on his knees. Taking you on his tongue as though his life depends on it.

He captures your clit between his teeth and tugs. Eliciting another wounded, pitiful noise as you slump against the glass.

The second orgasm is just as powerful as the first, if not more. Because this time, he’s actually touching you. Blowing on your clit the moment he sees you begin to unravel, effortlessly dragging you into more pleasure.

You scratch his scalp so hard, you’re surprised you don’t draw blood. Practically pulling him through you while you ride his tongue and the wave of euphoria until you come crashing back down to Earth. 

“Oh, my god,” you whimper, features contorting with bliss. “Shit, H…please…please—”

But he’s far from through. Already licking the remnants of your orgasm from your quivering hole while you attempt to writhe away. The overstimulation almost painful as tears spring back to your eyes.

“Wait…wait, please,” you whisper, trying to recapture his attention by yanking on his curls and pushing your legs against his hands. “Baby, please…I need you. Need more, H…please.”

He looks up, and you see a glimmer of the moon in his eye. “What do you need more of? Hm? Tell me.”

You let your head drop back against the window, chest heaving beneath your thick sweater. “Har…can’t…I can’t, I need…need—”

“What?” he pushes. And you can hear the smug undertones as well as the reemergence of his cocky dimple. “What, baby? Tell Daddy what you need.”

And he knows what you need. He always knows, even before you do. But he wants to hear you say it. Wants to force the words from your mouth. Wants you to beg him for his cock.

With a heavy sigh, you answer, “You.”

“You already have me.”

You whine and toss your leg over his shoulder. Digging your heel into his spine to encourage him closer. “Need you to fuck me, H. Please…please, fuck me.”

His grin grows. “Well, well, well. Look at that. My sweet girl knows how to use her words after all.”

He crawls up to you, hands settling beside your hips as he leans forward.

“Doesn’t she?” he whispers, allowing his lips to ghost across yours. Teasing you with a taste of yourself. 

You feel as though you’re drowning. Unable to capture enough air in your lungs to survive, and you throw your hands around his neck to yank him the remaining two inches. 

 His tongue feels like heaven against yours. A mix of you and him that you swallow greedily. Wanting more than he’s seeming to give you.

“Please,” you try again. Releasing the ask against his cheek before nuzzling your nose under his jaw. Intoxicated by the scent of him. “Harry…”

He doesn’t have much strength to refuse you. His willpower long forgotten as he quickly obliges and grabs onto your waist to yank you to the edge of the seat.

He then lifts your leg and sets it onto the cushion, bending it at the knee to create the angle he wants. Allowing him enough room to work while he grabs onto his cock and removes his boxers the rest of the way.

Hard and heavy in his hand, he guides the tip between your thighs. Dragging it down your clit almost tauntingly before slipping in. And it’s far too easy. He disappears into our pussy almost unintentionally. Allowing your warmth to draw him in and keep him inside you.

You can’t help the smile that stretches across your face.

“Shit,” he whispers when he feels the way your walls squeeze around his length. You might be used to his size, but those first few seconds are always euphoric. “There you go…you all right, Bee?”

You nod wordlessly, reaching out for his shoulders for something to hold onto. 

“I know,” is all he says in response. Able to read your tells better than anyone ever has. “S’all right. I’ve got you.”

Once he’s fully inside of you, he offers a moment of relief. Settling there while his hands return to your hips to lift you up ever-so-slightly in order to use you the way he wants. 

“Go,” you beg, nails drawing patterns down his back. “M’okay, go. Wanna feel you. Need to feel you cum.”

“Yeah?” He draws back before driving in. Hard enough to knock a gasp from your chest. “That’s what you want? Want Daddy’s cum in this pretty pussy?”

A blissful haze begins to cloud your vision. His sinfully sweet taunt ringing between your ears. Inciting an idea and a need you hadn’t thought possible.  

“Oh…” When he realizes, that wicked look returns. “Oh, baby. You do, don’t you? Wanna be full of me. Want me to fill this sweet, little cunt until you’re dripping. Till I’m spilling out of you. All down your thighs. Down to the floor.”

You make another incoherent noise before succumbing to his hard thrusts. Falling mute and limp. 

“Want me to lick it up…just to spit it down your throat,” he continues. “Want me everywhere. In your pussy…in your tummy. Just wanna be so fucking full of me.”

Every word from his mouth is crude and delicious. Designed to torture you and it works.

Because he’s right. You do want him everywhere. Want to feel him across every inch of your skin, inside every pore, dripping from every part of your body. Want to be stuffed with him. His tongue, his cock, his cum. There’s no part of this man you aren’t infatuated by.

“Say it,” he hisses, tugging your body up higher until he can slam into you from a different position. Finding that beautiful spot that makes your toes curl while you cry out and grab onto the seat beneath you for support. “Say how much you want my cum. Beg me for it.”

You can feel the sweat dripping down your back. Can feel the exhaustion in your limbs from having to contain so much pleasure. 

And he’s careless yet practiced. Still gentle, even when he’s ramming his hips into yours. Nearly tearing you in half with the force of his cock, but with a sort of devotion you can’t explain. Even with such force, you feel relaxed. 

Almost as if this is how you were always meant to be.

And then…something faint. Distant and familiar. The sound of voices – your friend’s voices, coming from somewhere inside the house.

For a moment, you worry you’ve been caught. That they’ve found you and are ready to run screaming from the house.

But you catch pieces of their conversation. Vague and somewhat confusing. 

“—well, then, you check. I already tried—”

“—probably just looking around. Maybe they went back to their car—”

“—I’ll text her. They could be lost. This place is huge—”

They haven’t found you. In fact, it seems they’re still searching. Unaware that the two of you found the attic, and perhaps even unaware of the passageway, too.

Harry seems rather relaxed as he pauses just long enough to glance up. A look of understanding forming as he nods toward the ceiling.

You look, too.

The voices are coming from the vent. Echoing the conversation from somewhere else in the house as they walk through.

Your heart races. Because if you can hear them, that means…

He seems to consider this at the same time you do, head cocking deviously as he pulls back. “Shh,” he murmurs, thumb stroking your waist. “Gonna have to be extra quiet for me, okay?”

You take in another deep breath, another whine already bubbling up the back of your throat.

But he realizes this almost instantly. Hand coming up to press against your mouth and muffle your pathetic cry before you can make it. “Uh-uh,” he hisses, attempting to chastise but you can tell he’s amused. “Said no, Bee. Need you quiet or I stop.”

But he can’t stop. You can’t let him stop. You think if he stops, you might die. That you’ll disappear into nothing and spend the rest of your life chasing something only he can offer.

Instead, you grab onto his wrist, and keep it against your lips. Using it as an excuse to whimper against his palm and promise your attempt at silence.

And maybe he’s unconvinced. But he’s just as desperate as you are. To finish and find that serenity. To feel each other in every sense of the word.

So he takes your vow of obedience and continues. Resuming his thrusts as the sounds of voices slowly begin to fade away. 

You’re brought right back to the precipice of pleasure. Reminded yet again of why you’d do anything for him. Why he’s so addicting. Not just because of his body…but because his heart.

Shades of blue, red, yellow, and purple explode across the walls and across your eyelids. The colors rich and vibrant, accentuated by the bright glow of the moon. 

And you can see him perfectly. Can see his stunningly structured face. The ridge of his nose, the sharp edge of his jaw. The damp curls that lay across his forehead and the rosy skin of his cheeks.

You know he’s always been handsome. Not just to you, but to everyone.

But now…he’s ethereal. Because he’s not just some guy. He’s not just Harry. He’s the man you love. The only true home for your soul. Your comfort place, your future.

Your everything.

And that’s what makes him so beautiful.

When he notices your stare, something shifts. He drops his hand, and surges forward to kiss you. Throwing a stutter in his rhythm as he laces his tongue with yours. 

“Shit,” is all you manage to make out of his hushed moans. “Gonna give you everything, Bee. Gonna fill you. Keep my cum inside you forever. Fucking forever, baby. M’yours. Always.”

You can feel yourself clenching down on him. Already approaching your third before he’s even allowed himself a first. It’s a trait of his you’ve noticed he exhibits quite often. Perhaps it’s a masochistic practice or perhaps it’s his nature to want your orgasms over his own. Waiting until he’s sure you’re taken care of before he allows himself to find relief. 

Yet another one of these little things you’d be lost without.

When he realizes just how close you are, he leans back and brings his lips together. Spitting directly onto your clit before bringing his fingers into play.

“There,” he grits, inflicting quick circles against the tender, swollen nerves that make you whine. “That’s all it takes, isn’t it?”

Your body answers for you. You’re nothing but a string of noises and twitching muscles. Dissolving into your orgasm until that’s all you are. Just his victory. His perfect prize to be claimed.

You feel him watch you. Infatuated with the way you tense and squirm before you finally settle back against the glass to catch your breath.

And perhaps that’s what does it for him. Not just feeling you cum but seeing it. The physical proof of your passion written so visibly across your face. The way you soak his cock, the way you drip down onto the seat below, the way you cling to him.

He chases that sensation. Chases the way it makes him feel and the release it promises him. 

It doesn’t take long for him to finish now that he’s not holding himself back. A few quick but hard thrusts and he’s spilling himself into your pussy with a low groan, face burying into your neck.

He holds you still through every second. As close as he possibly can, even after you’re sure he’s finished. 

The emotional orgasm feels just as overwhelming as the physical one. You can’t help but wrap your arms around his body to hold him against your heart. Listening to the sounds of his strained breaths before they slowly even out. 

And he’s so happy. You know he is. Refusing to move as his cum sits inside of you. Wanting to keep it there like he promised.

You want to keep him the same way. 

“Fuck,” you hear him whisper. It seems unintelligible curse words are about all the two of you have to offer in moments like this. It makes you smile. “Think I came so hard, I blacked out.”

You giggle at this, moving to hook your leg around his middle. “I’m glad you came. Feels good.”

He turns his head so his cheek can rest on your shoulder. “Yeah? S’my cum feel nice? All warm inside you?”

And there’s something about the way he says it. Soft but secure. Teasing you and caring for you all in the same breath.

You hum.

“Got it all snug inside your little pussy, baby?” He presses a kiss to your neck. A reassuring gesture meant to reward you. “Gonna keep it for me?”

You nod fervently before clinging onto his body a bit tighter. Feeling a shiver roll down your spine – either from the cold or his response. Truthfully, you aren’t sure. 

“Hmm. That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, slipping an arm around your waist in order to hold you closer. Hugging you, almost, as he settles in your embrace. “Guess we better get going, hm?”

But you don’t like this idea. Already feeling your expression fall into a desolate pout as you suck in a sharp inhale and cement yourself to his larger frame. 

He senses this shift – this refusal – and stills. “What? What’s wrong?”

You don’t have an answer. You suppose nothing is wrong, per se…as long as he doesn’t leave. 

“Bee,” he tries again, a bit firmer. The singular nickname laced with apprehension. “Lovey, what happened, what's wrong? You know you have to talk to me, okay? Have to communicate with me—”

“Nothing,” you whisper, cutting his bargaining short. “Nothing, I just…don’t want you to go, Daddy.”

A brief pause. Silent and filled with an unspoken tension that melts into something tender. “Bee, I’m not going anywhere. Just wanna clean you up and hold you a bit. Like we always do. That’s all right, isn’t it?”

You consider this. You do love when he holds you. Especially when he runs his hands down your sore limbs. Massaging the aches away while keeping you safe in his arms.

The mere thought makes you sigh. “Promise?”

He squeezes your hip. “Always, baby.”

With that, you unhook yourself from his body, and allow him to move back. Taking himself from you almost painfully before he’s putting himself away and moving for your clothes. 

He finds your underwear and both pairs of jeans, bringing them back to you almost respectfully.

He helps you step into them, securing your panties around your waist with an impish wink and a soft, “Gonna save it for later, yeah?”

Once you’re both dressed again, he fits himself between you and the window, and places you in the middle of his lap. Your back against his chest while his palms sweep up and down your arms, easing the pains away.

“Was that okay?” he asks after a quiet moment of reflection. “Did you like what we did?”

 You drop your focus down to his hands. To the way they look on your body. You hum. Say nothing. 

In turn, he shifts, attempting to sneak a glimpse of the side of your face. “Bee, d’you hear me?”

Still, you’re silent. Trailing your finger along his knuckles and over his wrist. Entranced by him. Hypnotized.

He uses this very hand to reach for your jaw. Squeezing it just hard enough to capture your attention and turn your face to his. “Baby, you’re scaring me. Are you all right?”

You feel your frown return, chest tightening with the implication. “Scared? Why are you scared? What…what did I do?”

There’s a subtle pull in his eyebrows. Almost imperceptible but you manage to catch it before it smooths away. “Nothing, sweet girl. But I want to make sure you’re okay. That I didn’t hurt you or take things too far. And if I did, I want to know. I need to know.”

“Daddy, you never hurt me. Ever.” The frown intensifies, nearly taking control of your whole face. “Don’t say that, it makes me sad.”

Again, a flash of confusion and subtle recognition streaks behind his soft gaze. “Daddy just wants to make sure you’re feeling all right. That you feel safe and comfortable with me. Now…and before.”

“Of course I do. Always feel comfortable with you.”

You imagine he should feel relieved to hear this, and yet he sighs as he releases your jaw. “Oh, baby.”

It’s heavy the way he speaks. Akin to disappointment, but there’s a touch of sadness. Perhaps even understanding.

It breeds a constriction in your chest that feels like a snake coiling around your lungs. “What…what did I do? Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” he’s quick to whisper, tightening his hold on you. “God, no, sweet girl. Just realized something, that’s all.”

A tad reassured, you straighten up. “Oh? What?”

He nuzzles his cheek against your temple and pulls you even further into his chest. “Nothing bad, I promise. Just that I need to take extra good care of you right now.”

“Really?

 He nods. “Mhm. So, what do you think, lovey, hm? Should we go home? Think we’ve done enough exploring for one day.”

Your lashes flutter, a bit startled by the switch. “We…you wanna leave?”

“I do. I wanna take you home and hold you. Properly,” he says gently, laying a chaste kiss to your forehead. “We can take a bath, get all nice and warm again. Know it’s getting cold, isn’t it?”

Truthfully, you hadn’t realized the drastic drop in temperature. But with this mention, you feel a noticeable chill dancing across the room. Can feel your breath grow icier as it leaves your lips.

“And once we’re warm again, we can crawl into bed, and just stay,” he continues. “Watch a movie, eat some snacks. Do whatever you wanna do, baby. S’that sound good?”

And it does. It sounds like heaven. Anything with him always does. “Can we please?”

He grins again before kissing your temple again. “Of course. We’ll head out now. Think you can walk or do you need my help?”

Your legs do feel a bit wobbly, but in all honesty, the idea of having him hold you all the way down is what you really want. To make sure he doesn’t take himself from you, even if you’re merely walking to the car.

Your innocent pout is answer enough, and he chuckles. “Want my help, don’t you?”

Nodding eagerly, you sit up, allowing him to slip back out from behind you and stand. Once he has, he takes your hand and pulls you to your feet, making sure to steady you when you feel a bit rocky before leading you toward the stairs.

You leave the heavenly room behind, bidding the stunning shadows adieu as you disappear down the dark stairwell. 

And you hope, if there are ghosts, that they enjoyed the show.

After you’ve returned to the spare room on the first floor, Harry strides over to the bookshelf, and tilts the Frankenstein book back just like he had before. Prompting the portrait to slide closed in the same manner as it had when it opened. Hiding the secret staircase away for the next wandering couple.

Then, he turns to you. “All right, baby, let’s go.”

He crouches down, signaling that he’d like you to climb onto his back again, and you do rather giddily. Cementing yourself to his spine as you cling to him like a koala bear, allowing him to lead you back out into the main part of the house.

You find your friends already waiting by the door, talking casually until they see you coming out from the shadows.

You feel Harry squeeze your ankles as a sign of encouragement and you sigh to yourself while cuddling closer.

“Where the hell have you been, we’ve been looking everywhere,” Jackie calls. “You just left me with these dipshits.”

Harry chuckles. “Sorry. Got a bit lost and then we started talking. Did you find the attic?”

“No,” Charlie huffs, and he sounds rather offended. “I don’t think there is an attic. Think Caleb’s just full of shit.”

“I’m telling you, it’s there,” Caleb argues. “Other people have gone up, I just don’t know how they found it.”

“Huh. Weird,” Harry muses, and you have to turn your face away to hide your smirk. “Well, listen, I think we’re gonna head out. But this was fun. Thanks for the invite.”

“Aw, really? Already? We thought maybe we’d head over to Waffle House or something,” Jackie tells you. “You know, eat a shit ton of whipped cream and syrup in the spirit of Halloween.”

To this, Harry smiles, glancing back at you as if to check for permission and see if you’re interested. But you can’t really offer him much else except a shy grin, which he seems to understand.

“I think we’re just gonna turn in for the night,” he says instead. “But you guys have fun. We’ll have to do this again for Christmas.”

The other three laugh as you call your goodbyes and allow Harry to carry you to the car. 

He sets you down by the passenger door in order to unlock it and swing it open. And once it is, he’s still ever the gentleman, helping you sit and making sure you’re buckled in before shutting the door and jogging over to his side.

As he fumbles with his keys and gets the engine started, your eyes trail up toward the top of the large mansion before you. Finding those beautiful windows once more as you bid them goodbye as well.

You feel Harry’s hand slip around yours, recapturing your attention as you look over and catch his grin. “You ready?”

You nod and squeeze his palm three times. “Mhm. Always.”

Pleased, he brings your knuckles to his lips. Leaving a lingering kiss that nearly takes your breath away. “Happy Halloween, Bee.”

And your heart has never felt so full. 

“Happy Halloween, Harry.”

HAPPY HALLOWEEN 🧡🧡🧡 (or just regular old Tuesday)!!! Thank you so much for joining me for Freaky Fun and for being so kind and supportive!!! You all have my heart!! Have a safe, wonderful night filled with laughs and amazing treats!! 😭♥️

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[lovesickforhim]

Crush | bfd!harry

Best friend’s dad!harry x reader | older!harry x reader

Summary: When your feelings for Mr. Styles morph from just finding him attractive to a full on crush you feel a little guilty. But then when he shows an interest back in you at Fae's 22nd birthday party you two become close and eventually ebb on inappropriate, but you can't seem to stop.

A/N: This is a flashback from Y/n's point of view starting with when she began crushing on Harry, to Fae's birthday, and beyond. A little more insight into why they were so comfortable with one another when they began their affair.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warning: 18+ only, smut (masterbation), a touch of angst, emotional almost cheating, age gap

bfd!harry masterlist

You had always found Harry attractive. The first time you went with Fae to her house and met her mom and dad you could recognize that your friend’s dad was a good-looking man.

But it wasn’t until the day you and Fae decided to go to the gym with Harry that you suddenly began to crush on him The gym had a big pool and sauna, and hot guys, according to Fae so you figured you’d spend a Saturday afternoon there.

You and Fae swam in the pool and then sat in the steam room until you were bored and decided to change back into your clothes and go look for Harry.

And when you found him… You stopped in your tracks. You hadn’t expected Mr. Styles to look like that.

He was boxing. Wearing a white t-shirt and athletic shorts. His hair was pulled out of his face with a clip that must have belonged to Fae or Mrs. Styles. He had gloves on and he was dancing around the other guy in the gym’s ring.

Of course, they were just sparring, there wasn’t any violent punching happening, but the way Harry handled himself had you dropping your mouth open in awe.

Fae turned back to look at you, “Are you okay?”

You couldn’t find your voice. You were in shock. Nodding your head you kept your eyes on Harry. His dark tattoos stood out with the sweat on his skin. His shoulders were broad under his sweaty white shirt and his moves were quick. Harry was clearly well-built. In much better shape than the guy he was sparring with who appeared to be closer to your age.

“Hey, Dad!” Fae waved at Harry as you stood back to take it all in.

Harry put his hands up in a signal to his partner to pause as he pulled his gloves off and spit the mouthguard out. You noticed that he glanced toward you and then began to move his mouth to answer Fae. You could barely hear. Your ears were ringing.

And then it was like you were suddenly being drawn in by tractor beams and you were unable to stop it as you moved yourself forward to where he stood in the slightly elevated, padded gym ring. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him and you couldn’t look away even when he made eye contact with you again and you saw the edge of his lip quirked up in a grin before he licked his lips.

And that stuck with you. That little smirk. The sweat on his neck. The look he’d given you. Was he perhaps also attracted to you somehow? Even if he was… well nothing would ever come of it.

On Fae’s 22nd birthday, you selected your outfit based on what you thought Harry might like. You pushed down your guilt about the way you’d been crushing on him and how you were hoping to at least catch his eye. You still never imagined that there’d ever be anything to worry about. It was just an innocent crush, right?

And you were so hot and turned on just imagining seeing Mr. Styles at your best friend’s birthday party, which was ridiculous, that you had to pull your panties off and find a new pair. But first, you needed to calm yourself and the best way to do that was to take your dildo out and use it on yourself.

At the time you still lived with your parents as you were in your last year of college and without a proper job. So, you locked your door and pulled up a photo of the only man you’d been masturbating to since the gym incident. The photo was of him with Fae. He was holding up a peace sign and he had the most adorable smile, complete with dimples, curly hair, and bright eyes. The nice thing about this picture was that he was staring directly into the camera as if he was watching you and that’s exactly what you wanted. His eyes on yours as you came imagining the dildo you were slipping inside of yourself was his cock.

And you knew Mr. Styles was hung. Knew he had a big dick. You hadn’t seen it, of course, but you could just tell. The natural bulge he sported, the occasional swing of his cock under athletic shorts when it appeared he wasn’t wearing underwear, and just his natural confidence told you he was well endowed.

You thrusted the thick silicone toy in and out as you rubbed your clit and peered at the photo of Harry, looking into his eyes. You’d scrolled in so the photo only had him in it. You could never do what you were at that moment if you could see Fae to his right.

You panted and then bit your lip to keep your noises down. The only thing to be heard in your bedroom was the slick press of the toy into your pussy.

And because you wanted to get to the Styles’ house early you did all the little things you knew would have you coming in under five minutes. The slip of your fingers on your clit and quick long thrusts of the toy into yourself with your eyes planted on Harry’s photo did the trick.

You peeped out a moan and threw your head back into your feather pillow as you closed your legs around the dildo and shut your eyes. It was Harry’s cock you were coming on. His deep, masculine voice coaxed you through, telling you that you were such a good girl for him.

After cleaning up and putting on a fresh pair of panties you smiled to yourself. You felt naughty. You were a bad girl to be imagining the things you were about Mr. Styles. But you couldn’t help it. Everything about him was sex and allure. His confidence and his charm drew everyone in. But the most attractive thing about him was how genuinely kind he was. He was sweet to his core.

You arrived about thirty minutes before you knew anyone else would begin to. You didn’t know why you wanted to get there early but when you realized Mrs. Styles’ car wasn’t in their driveway you felt a gush of excitement at the idea you’d be alone with him. Alone with Mr. Styles.

You found your way into the house, knowing you were always given permission to just enter when they were expecting you.

And there he was. In their lovely backyard setting up. He looked handsome in navy slacks with a white button-up shirt.

“Mr. Styles!”

He jolted and turned quickly to see you. You had scared him apparently. But then you watched in satisfaction as he dragged his eyes down your frame to take in your outfit. It was a well-fitted soft yellow dress with white polka dots. Your tits looked fantastic in it and the middle hugged your waist delicately.

“Hi, Y/n. How are you dear?” He pulled you into his arms and gave you a hug that lingered for a moment longer than necessary. He smelled amazing and you hoped he’d gotten a whiff of you too. You’d put on your nicest perfume and lotion.

When you both had backed away from the hug you felt yourself grow warm when his eyes dropped to your lips and then took in your neck and your face before he looked back up at your eyes. He looked stunned. Was it because you’d startled him when you arrived? Or… was there something behind this look… something behind the reaction he was giving to your presence?

After finding out it was just the two of you your mind delved into darkness quickly as you imagined him taking you right then on the table he stood next to. He could just bend you forward and slip your thong to the side and stuff himself inside of you.

“Well, I can go back inside. Don’t want to bother you or–“

But suddenly Harry wrapped his hand around your wrist and spoke over you, “It’s okay, Y/n. You’re never a bother.”

You hadn’t expected him to reach out for you as you looked down at his hand on your wrist and then looked back into his eyes. There was something there. In the way he was looking at you, in the way he was standing so close. As if he were seeing you in the same way you saw him.

And through the rest of the party you couldn’t keep your eyes off him but nearly every time you looked his way he was already watching you. It was a clear message. Maybe it would never be acted on, but the sentiment was clear. He found you attractive now. And the longing gazes from across the yard or at the table had your skin prickling and panties wetting involuntarily.

Before you left for the night you found Harry when no one was around. You’d done it on purpose. Wanted to give him a nice hug, something subtle but something to take with you and think about when you fingered yourself that night.

He stood up from his crouched position over the box he was stuffing with string lights and kept his dark eyes on yours. It almost looked like his pupils were blown out. But perhaps it was just the lighting.

You reached out for his hand, brushing your fingertips against his as you stepped in close to hug him, “This was fun, Mr. Styles.”

You slid your arms over his shoulders so he wrapped his around your low back and held you close, bodies molded together tight. You had your breasts pressed into his chest and then he turned his face in toward you as he spoke quietly, his breath falling over your ear and your neck, “I’m glad you were here tonight.”

You both stood like that for longer than was appropriate but it felt good. It felt like a little secret. Just for the both of you.

And things didn’t end there. You often visited Fae’s and went at times when you knew she might not be home. You and Harry would sit in his office and chat for hours sometimes. Usually, nothing suggestive happened but it always ended with a sensual hug. And each hug became more inappropriate until you two were pressed together at the hip before parting. You loved the brush of his dick against your thigh, even if he wasn’t hard, just the gesture of it was erotic. You could feel him and you were sure he was aware of it.

You always left with a shy smile and Harry’s eyes were dark and he looked like he could devour you. But that’s exactly what you wanted.

But still, you never imagined things would escalate.

Harry had given you his number eventually. For emergencies or if you ever needed to talk. And once in a while, you’d text him out of the blue. A link to an article that made you think of him, a funny meme to brighten his day. Eventually, the texts were more personal in nature. A good morning text. A how was your day text. A I’m sitting in traffic and need to be entertained text. And then he began to text you first some days. The first time he texted you first was a day you decided not to text him at all. Just to see if you could do it. To see if you could go one day without contact. Because it was silly, the game you two were playing and you knew it.

Haven’t heard from you today. Just checking in.

That one had you simply squealing and acting like you’d just been asked out on a date.

And when you started dating Randy you noticed that Harry liked to change the subject any time you brought him up.

“What did you do this weekend?” He asked you as you sat across from him in the cushy chair in his study.

“I went out with Randy again. He stayed the night on Satur–“

“That’s great. How’s school?”

He’d changed the subject so fast you got whiplash. And that seemed to be the way it went every time you brought up your boyfriend.

But he never stopped texting you and you never stopped texting him. All throughout your relationship with Randy. The heated hugs with faces turned inward as if you both wanted to part with a kiss, hips pressed together, whispers of “be good this week”  that turned into “be a good girl this week” into your ear.

And then one day Randy hurt your feelings. He had already graduated from college and had a full-time job so he typically paid for most of your outings. You tried to chip in when you could but you were a full-time student working part-time at a fabric shop downtown and barely made anything to have any fun with.

So he’d make comments from time to time about the fact that he was the one paying so he got to do what he wanted when he wanted.

And normally you didn’t care. But the time he hurt your feelings was while you and a few friends were at his house watching a football game. His team was losing and you’d never seen Randy act like such a toddler before. Your last straw was when he slammed his fist into his coffee table, shattering a pint glass you had been drinking from, and then throwing his remote control into the wall, smashing it into tiny pieces.

“Calm down! It’s just a game,” you hurriedly spoke as you scrambled to get paper towel and a broom to clean up the mess he’d made.

He followed behind you as you grabbed the broom and he stopped you by grasping your shoulders, “Do not talk to me like that in my own place. I pay the rent here. I pay for everything else too. Until you start chipping in, you do not get to tell me to calm down.”

Your eyes filled with tears. Not because you were sad, but because you were pissed. You dropped the broom and flipped him off before grabbing your purse and getting out of there. You drove directly to Harry’s house. Mrs. Styles answered the door and she made you a cup of coffee. You told her that you’d just had an argument with your boyfriend and just needed to get away so the first place you thought of was the Styles’ house. Harry was on a call when you arrived and Fae wasn’t home once again.

“Look. Stay as long as you’d like, Y/n. I’m gonna go and get a few things at the market and I’ll be back in like thirty minutes. Just… don’t worry about that guy. Okay? You are free to watch TV or hang out in Fae’s room if you want. Our home is your home.”

You plopped on the couch and looked at your cell phone to see a missed call and a few missed texts from Randy. You were so angry with the way he spoke to you that you didn’t even bother to read what he had to say.

“Hey. What are you doing here?” Harry’s kind smile covered his face as he walked out of his study toward you and sat down next to you on the couch.

You huffed and leaned back into the couch, “Just needed a place to go. It’s Randy. He was rude to me. And I don’t know if I can forgive him for it. Maybe he was just talking in the heat of the moment but… it just felt really mean and I have never had a guy speak to me like that before.”

Harry took your hand and the big smile on his face had fallen into a serious expression, “What did he say to you?”

You described to Harry what happened, as well as the past occurrences with him mentioning how he paid for things and how that was easy to overlook but this time it felt like a real dig at you. An insult.

“Fuck him. You need to break up with him. I’d never speak to anyone like that. He was pulling a power move on you which is manipulative. You did nothing wrong.”

Harry’s thumb slid against your knuckles and you’d all but forgotten about how mad you were at your boyfriend at his soft gesture.

“Yeah. I know. I just couldn’t believe him. I think I’ll break up with him Friday morning cause I have the day free and he works in the afternoon.”

You looked up at Harry and into his eyes. You wished you could read his thoughts but figured that might be dangerous based on the way he was looking at you at that moment. It felt dreamy and lusty and with his hand grasping yours and his thumb brushing over your skin it made you dizzy.

“Good. You don’t deserve that, Y/n. Feel like I should go over to his apartment and beat his ass for speaking to you like that,” he lifted his free hand up to your face and thumbed over your cheek.

Your lips parted at his gesture and your breath caught. You both knew you were playing with fire. You were sat too close and Harry was touching you in a way a lover would. Yes, you were still fully clothed and perhaps to the naked eye this could be shrugged off as innocent but there was nothing innocent between you two in that moment.

“Promise me you’ll break up with him?”

You nodded and leaned your cheek into his hand further, “I promise.”

“Good girl, Y/n. I need you to let me know after you do it. Okay? Because I need to make sure you’re okay. His outburst today doesn’t give me confidence that he’ll take the news well.”

You nodded again and spoke softly, “Yes, sir.”

You watched him flutter his eyes closed as his chest rose with a deep breath before he pulled you into his arms for a hug. A seated hug. It was different than all the other hugs because he had to slot his knee between yours, your legs being pushed apart and even though your hips weren’t pressed together your legs were slotted between his and his face brushed against yours, his lips at your ear, “I’ll call you if I don’t hear from you. Because I need to know you’re okay after. Understood?”

You nodded and felt his face move, against yours, his nose pressed into your cheek. It was one of those moments when the air felt choked from your lungs as you moved your face in toward his and paused. Only an inch further and you’d have his lips on yours. Only an inch further and you could feel what you’ve longed to feel for nearly two years. Only an inch further and there would be no turning back.

He pressed his warm pink lips into your cheek, so near to your mouth and you felt him exhale from his nose as he gripped your ribs tighter. Your hand moved down until you’d settled it on his pants-clad thigh and opened your mouth to ready yourself for what you thought might come next as he brushed his nose inward, inward, inward.

But you were both stopped short and jumping apart the moment a car door closed. Harry stood up quickly and plucked at the front of his pants as he looked at you with wide eyes like he was suddenly broken from some magic spell he was under.

Mrs. Styles came in with two bags full of things she’d gotten at the market, “Har, will you help me put this away?”

Harry kept his eyes on you as he responded, “Yeah. Of course. Just sit it on the counter. I’ll be right in. Need to use the restroom first.”

And you figured you knew what he was doing behind those doors. Either he was cooling off or he was fucking his fist to calm himself because you did not miss the way his usual bulge was quite a lot thicker and more prominent in his pants as he walked toward the bathroom.

You had done that to him. You’d given him an erection and he nearly kissed you after telling you to break up with your loser boyfriend. And you couldn’t deny that it all had you riled up. Your heart was pounding as you stood wobbly to your feet and found Mrs. Styles in the kitchen.

“Uh… I’m gonna go home now. Thank you so much for letting me hang out here a bit and vent to you.”

She smiled at you and gave you a gentle hug, “Of course, Y/n. Anytime you need. I’m sorry Fae wasn’t here but we’ll always be here for you too you know.”

You nodded, “Yeah. Thank you. And… tell Mr. Styles I said goodbye too.”

If there was any doubt in your mind about breaking up with Randy before you spoke to Harry, well there certainly wasn’t any after. You sat in your car and touched the spot on your face where he had his lips pressed.

You had never intended for anything to go that far. And still, you couldn’t imagine the kind of mess that was just to come.   

    

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[lovesickforhim]

Hidden | mcc!harry

Summary: You convince Harry to take you to the Halloween Haunted House downtown. Of course you’ll both be well disguised - hidden in plain site. Thanks to this request!

Warning: 18+ only, smut, public sex, mask kink, voyeur kink (+ this is kidnapper!harry x reader and so this might not be your thing)

Word Count: 4042

Mint Chocolate Chip masterlist

“Look, Harry,” you showed him the flyer stuffed between the loose mail that had come in that day, “Haunted House Halloween: An Erotic Masquerade.”

Harry peered at the glossy pamphlet with a creepy-looking old building and the words at the bottom with contact information. $45 per person at the door. Extras not included.

“Can we go? I really want to go! Halloween has always been my favorite and we’ve never done anything together on Halloween. Please?” You sat the flyer down and slotted yourself between Harry’s legs as he sat on the couch, getting to your knees and rubbing your palms up his thighs, “It would mean so much to me. We’d have masks on so no one would even know it was us.”

Harry gave you an expressionless look. He wasn’t quite sure. He wanted to make you happy but he hated to go out in public. And he was sure there would be a lot of people at the event.

“I don’t know, pup. It’s risky with so many people.”

“Harry,” you softened your eyes and took his ringed hand in yours, bringing his fingertips to your lips, dotting little kisses to them, “I love you. How can I convince you that it’ll be worth it? That no one will ever see us?”

Well, you knew the answer to that. You knew how to get your way when it came to Harry. Pushing your fingers over his crotch, you bit your lip with your eyes on his, and pressed over his cock.

“Puppy…” he warned. He knew what you were doing. And he knew he was going to give in. If you were both in masks what was the harm anyway?

You laid your head on his thigh, looked up at him innocently, and began fumbling with his pants button, “Harry… I’m gonna suck you off now, okay? Make you come really hard and get me all messy.”

With your eyes still on his, Harry cradled the back of your head and licked his lips, “S’this what you think it’s gonna take for me to say yes?”

You nodded, your cheek smushed into his thigh. You were thriving from the eye contact he was giving you with his warm hand at the back of your head, all loving and soft with anticipation.

When you’d opened up his pants you could tell he was already thickened up to your delight. You loved making him hard. Loved that you did that to him. Loved that he picked you out of everyone because you were his special girl.

You shifted yourself and sat up so you could reach into his pants and pull him out. Sticking your hand under the band of his underwear he grunted as he sat back and put his hands behind his head to let you do your thing.

It was a struggle to get him out fully. He wasn’t helping you at all. He kept his bottom planted firmly on the couch, where normally he’d lift up so you could pull at his pants. But this was your way of showing him how much you wanted to go out for Halloween.

But you did manage to pull his dick out. Your fingers came into contact with his girthy shaft and you pushed his underwear down so you could see all of him. As you began to gently slide your hand up and down over his foreskin you looked up at him and could tell he was already gone. Dark eyes, pink lips parted, small puffs of breath falling from his lungs.

You gathered a bit of saliva in your mouth and pressed your lips to his tip, pushing the moisture out with your tongue and over his cock, using your fingers to slip it over his skin and down as far as your hand could go before his pants got in the way. You repeated, getting his cock coated with your saliva, little by little as your hand worked it over his shaft.

“It’s so yummy,” you moaned as you swiped your tongue upward to his frenulum, eyes pinned to his.

You were a fucking pro at this. Harry had taught you exactly what he liked and you were a quick learner. And now you’d perfected the skill of giving head to his preference. So much so, that Harry was already growing angrily hard with your lips and tongue and fingers working him into a frenzy.

When you’d finally put him out of his misery and you wrapped your plush, wet lips around his bulbous head he moaned and closed his eyes. He loved to feel you. Feel your lips and your tongue taking him in. The way you suckled and lapped at him as you forced yourself down until he bumped into your throat always had him trembling.

He gasped when you swallowed around his cock and spluttered over him, almost gagging but not quite. When he looked down at you your eyes were fixed up at him, already tearing up a bit.

“Puppy… my best girl,” he smoothed his hand over the back of your head as you attempted to smile at his sweet gesture, though it was hard with his thick cock lodged deep in your mouth.

So you went down further, sucking in a breath through your nostrils, and lowered down until his tip wasn’t just nudging into your throat but was slid into the back of it and pushing past your tonsils. He groaned and that spurred you on further as you closed your eyes and nuzzled down, your nose hitting his tummy and your chin pushed into his cotton underwear. You wished you could take his balls into your hands but this would have to do as he still had his pants over his thighs and only his cock was out for you.

Once you began to gag over him and the tears in your eyes started to run down your cheeks Harry bucked his hips up and pressed at the back of your head. You put your hands on his thighs to stabilize yourself as you gurgled and squeezed your eyes closed.

“Fuck… c’mere pup,” Harry’s voice was strained as he whined his words.

You popped off of him, gasping for breath as you did so, and quickly climbed into his lap as he asked.

Harry pushed your little dress up to your waist and pulled you down over him, your bare pussy already wet and puffy with need. You never wore panties when Harry was around. That was the rule.

“Want to come, puppy? Want to come with me?” Harry asked as he cupped your face.

You writhed your slick pussy against his deliciously hard cock. He was already throbbing. So close to coming, “Yes. If it’s okay.”

Harry moaned and looked down at where you two were pressed together, “It’s my favorite. Of course it’s okay. Put me inside, puppy. Ride me and make yourself come.”

And what else was there to do but obey? You pressed his tip into your entrance and let out a shaky moan as you slowly encased him and he pushed your insides apart until you had him stuffed into your pussy so deep you were seated over him, wetting his pants.

With Harry’s hands on your ass, he helped you lift up and slip down. With little gushy sounds coming from your pussy as you moved over him.

You both moaned and gasped, “Can I rub it? I want to come…” you panted as you looked down to where you were both connected. You needed to slip your fingers over your clit and you’d be done for in moments.

“Go on, baby. Been such a sweet girl for me.”

You slid your hand between your bodies and circled your clit as you continued to take his cock into you deeply. He was trembling at the way you were squeezing around him.

“Ahh!” You moaned when you felt your pussy flutter and Harry’s dick press into your guts repeatedly.

“Coming, puppy? Yeah? Needed my cock, didn’t you? It’s okay. There you go…” Harry tried to sound put together but he was panting and whining as he spoke his words to you as you came around him.

You gripped him tight and spasmed around him, thighs quivering and eyes wide, “Fuck! I need you, Harry!”

Harry clenched his jaw as his balls tightened against his body until he was pouring himself into you. He pumped his orgasm into your tummy and held you down with his teeth gritted, feeling that euphoric relief that only you could ever provide him.

.           .           .

You ordered your masks online. Harry’s was a skeleton mask and yours was a jeweled black cat mask. Harry was iffy about yours because it didn’t cover your lips and chin but once you tried it on for him he nodded, “Okay. That should do.”

He wore a full black suit with a black tie and you wore a long-sleeved black bodysuit with black high heels. It was actually quite sexy. And you thought Harry looked sexy too.

The haunted house was downtown. It was at an old historical home that was preserved among the modern buildings and skyscrapers. It was often used for events, dinners, parties… This time it was decked out for a Halloween masquerade. The night sky above with the old-fashioned lights hanging from the front façade and creepy spider webs at the entry made it feel so real.

There was a group waiting at the front, as people entered one by one.

When you and Harry finally got to the door your payment was taken and black plastic bracelets put on your wrists. The interior was breathtaking. Tall ceilings, crystal chandelier, a big open space for people to dance a section with a bar and tables, and seating along the wall at the back.

“This is incredible!” You held onto Harry’s hand (or better yet, he wasn’t letting go of yours) as you looked all around. The decorations were scary but tasteful somehow. Everyone was wearing a mask. The music was instrumental and slow but had a touch of something spooky as it was on a minor scale.

You both stood at the bar to order drinks. Harry decided against drinking anything. He was still on edge and wanted to keep an eye out in case of anything that should happen. Even the bartender you ordered from was wearing a mask. She was Medusa and her entire outfit was sleek but she wore a wild wig of snakes.

Harry continued to keep your hand in his as you walked around the room to check everything out. Your drink was tangy and refreshing. The further you got into the space you noticed there were smaller areas behind doorways with activities. A Ouija board room, a room with a witch's cauldron and various ingredients set on a table to add, a dark room that, once you stepped in you realized was almost as large as the main room. Couches and settees lined the walls, rugs on the floor, dim lighting at the edge, and people making out in the dark shadows, “This place has everything, Harry!” You laughed quietly as you pulled him along to the various areas.

Harry wasn’t hating it. He went because he knew you wanted to and because he tried to do anything he could to make you happy. But he was feeling more and more confident about the whole thing the longer you were there. The setup was impressive. The space was packed with people and you both were well disguised.

And also, he thought you looked absolutely gorgeous in your outfit. A tight bodysuit hugged your curves and your lips were painted a deep red. He’d consider talking you into going to the dark room for a bit of fooling around if the moment was right. He now understood the ‘erotic’ part of the masquerade. This felt almost like a big sex party. Though no one appeared to be having sex in the open, things were definitely lustfully charged.

When you’d finished your drink you turned to look at Harry, “Let’s dance a little.”

Harry shook his head, “Nahh. I don’t want to.”

He could see the pout on your lips as you protested, “I don’t want to dance by myself, Harry,” you pushed your fingers in between his and pulled at him.

“Well, I wouldn’t let you go out there to dance alone anyway. You’re not to leave my side.”

“But that’s not fair. Look,” you pointed toward the large space where masked adults were griding and slow dancing with dim lights flashing, “Just a little. Come on. Please?”

Harry sighed and looked toward the darkest corners of the dance area. There were people there, swaying and moving in synch. He could handle a bit of dancing. If it was to make you happy he’d do it.

“Fine.”

You squealed as you pulled at his hand and moved into the dancing bodies, but Harry kept pulling at you until you were outside of the area where the dim lights couldn’t find you.

Harry put his big hands on your hips and immediately you both began to swing softly. You put your arms over his shoulders and he nudged you in closer, “You look really pretty like this puppy.”

His voice was deep and you grinned at his compliment.

A couple that was dancing a few feet away had their masks moved off of their faces and were kissing as they danced together. You bit your lip and looked back up at Harry’s skeleton mask.

“What is it?” You could hear the smirk on his mouth. You wished you could see it.

“Just feels like a place where we could get away with a lot of stuff,” you swayed your hips and Harry nodded in response to you.

It did seem like that kind of place. It was dark inside. Lots of rooms, alcohol, hidden corners…

Harry dipped down to speak into your ear, “Turn around,” he pushed your hips and you turned in his arms so you were facing away. Suddenly he pulled you into him, your back into his chest and you both continued to slowly move to the rhythm.

When you felt his hands smooth up your ribs and over your tits you gasped and turned your head as he spoke into your ear, “What kind of things do you think we could get away with?”

You raised your arms and put your hands behind his neck, “I don’t know. This is a good example,” you pressed your bum into his crotch teasingly. But when you tried to move your hips away Harry brought a hand down from your breast to hold you in place, keeping his hips glued to your bottom.

“Now you’ve gone and done it, puppy.” He whispered into your ear. He kept one of his hands on your breast, kneading and squeezing as he ground his hips into your ass. You could feel him getting hard behind you and a small moan fell from your throat involuntarily.

You rubbed yourself over him harder and heard a groan from him, “Better behave.”

But you didn’t want to behave. You were feeling the sensuality of the dancefloor and everyone around you. The masks hid everyone’s identities and if their masks weren’t on their faces, their lips were connected, hiding behind skin pressed together and dark shadows.

“I want to be naughty,” you nearly purred as Harry pushed himself into your bottom and he moaned into your ear. You whispered, “I want to be bad.”

Harry couldn’t get close enough to you. He didn’t know what had gotten into himself but perhaps it was the way everyone around you two were practically dry-humping and getting themselves off while still clothed. He was sure he heard a man grunt and whine as the girl in front of him, pressed into him, coaxed him through softly with dirty words. Of course, who knew? Harry couldn’t be sure it was the sound of someone orgasming in their pants because he couldn’t see them clearly.

He felt your fingers over his as you pushed his hand down between your legs. You were warm and you inhaled a sharp breath when you pushed his digits over your fabric-covered clit. You guided his fingers over yourself as you leaned your head back into his shoulder.

Harry nudged himself into you, gently rocking his thickened prick into the fabric of his pants and into your soft bum.

You were both panting and grinding together in the dark next to other couples who were doing the same. It was like an illicit sex corner in a haunted mansion where no one knew for sure what anyone else was doing.

Soon he felt that your warm center was growing wet under the pads of his fingers. He could tell your body was growing limp against him as he kept one arm steady around your middle to hold you up, “Hold on, puppy. You’re almost there aren’t you? Filthy girl getting herself off on my fingers right in front of everyone here. Making a mess of my hand already,” his husky voice gave away that he was painfully turned on himself. He couldn’t hide it anyway, his cock was throbbing and his skin was rubbing into his underwear as he rocked himself harder into your plush bottom, the perfect amount of friction for his foreskin to move over his tip repeatedly. As good as it felt, he didn’t want to come in his trousers. He had another plan, now that he was beyond the point of no return.

You cried out as Harry hushed you. You could feel him solid, leaking between your cheeks as you came on his hand. Your legs buckled and you rocked yourself into his hand and grasped his arms. You couldn’t help yourself. You never could with Harry. He just did something to you. It had been that way since the beginning. It was as if your body reacted to him without you even needing to do anything.

You’d made a mess between your legs, which you felt when Harry finally moved his fingers from you and softly ushered you back to him, “Good girl. Needed to come didn’t you, puppy? It’s okay. You know I always give you what you want. Just like you always give me what I want.”

You opened your eyes and saw a couple staring at you. They were facing one another, griding to the music. Her lips were dropped open and she was moaning. Her mask barely covered her face so you could see her eyes on yours. The man, however, you couldn’t see, but his mask was aimed at you and Harry. They both seemed to be watching what had just happened. It was dark and perhaps they hadn’t seen everything but you had been loud.

Harry began to pull at you. You were too far gone to protest or to be embarrassed at what that couple might have just seen. Soon you were in the dark room with the plush couches and low lighting at the edges. Harry dragged you with him to the corner of a couch and made you climb onto his lap. You could hardly see his mask in the darkness but you could hear the moans and gasps of others all around.

Harry lifted his mask and pushed yours off your face and his mouth was on yours so fast you nearly fell backward off his lap. You could feel him fooling with his buckle and you leaned away, “What are you doing?”

“I need to come puppy and I’m about to burst. Need you to pump me in your hand and then put me in your mouth so I can come and we don’t make a big mess. Understood? I don’t think anyone in here will see us. It’s too dark. Besides, look,” he gestured toward the couple at the opposite side of the couch. You could hardly make out their bodies but you could see them moving rhythmically and you could hear what sounded like sex, skin sliding and gently thwacking together.

“Oh my god…” you whispered as you looked back toward Harry.

“Pup, I really need it. I’m in pain. Your wet pussy is all over my hand and it’s driving me crazy. If you take me in your mouth it’s the only way to keep me from coming in my pants.”

You would do anything he wanted. There was no way you’d say no. He had made you come moments earlier so it was the least you could do, “I could ride you. You can come inside of me. Might be even easier.”

“But your bodysuit–“

You interrupted, “Has a button to open it at the crotch for practical purposes,” you laughed. But it was truly meant for practical purposes. It’s why you selected the bodysuit. An opening so you could use the bathroom without having to take the full bodysuit off.

“Fuck baby, you don’t mind doing that?” Harry's vision was fuzzy he was so turned on. Normally he’d never go for something like that but the atmosphere of the place, and you were getting to him.

You straddled him properly, “Pull yourself out and I’ll get this open,” you whispered as you plucked at your button and unfolded the fabric from your wet crotch.

Harry was already out and stroking himself by the time you’d finally pulled the material off your crotch. He was so hard it almost hurt as he pulled you down on himself with a guttural moan. But you were so slick you had him coated and were gripping around him in no time.

Harry set his feet flat onto the floor and fucked himself up into you slowly. Each thrust had you bouncing slightly, and squishing down over him each time you fell. You both panted until Harry captured your mouth, his tongue finding yours right away. His mouth caught your moans as he slid himself into you deeply. Your head was spinning. You couldn’t believe you were having full-on sex in public with another couple likely doing the same thing as you just feet away.

The music and the noise from the others in the room covered the sounds that were coming from your own body. Your wet hole slopped over Harry’s wide cock and you were sure that despite him not wanting to make a mess, his pants were already wet and coated in your cream.

When Harry’s cock began to thrum inside of you and his groans into your mouth grew louder and more desperate he began to plunge into you faster. You held onto his shoulders tight and he shook as his thighs worked himself into your pussy eagerly. You knew he was about to come.

“Give me your come. I need it, Harry,” you whispered against his lips as a man not far from you let out a cough of ecstasy. It would be hard to deny that whoever that was had been coming at that very moment. The other man he was with moaning pathetically.

“Fuck, puppy…” Harry groaned against your lips as he held you down over his cock tight, “Coming… fuck ‘m coming… milking my cock like you need it…”

Harry leaned his head back and his mask slid down over his face as he released into you, small moans falling from his mouth. You loved making him come. Loved how it made you feel that he got so weak with you.

When Harry’s cock was properly drained he lifted his head back up and looked at you from behind his skeleton mask, “This is the best Halloween party I’ve ever been to.”

You laughed as you nuzzled against Harry, wrapping your arms around his neck, his cock still deep inside of you, “It really is. Want to go dance again?”

Harry chuckled lowly, “If we dance again we might just find ourselves back in this room fucking in this very spot. Or maybe I’ll have you bent over the couch arm next time…”

You grinned and leaned back to look at him, “Sounds perfect.”

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[lovesickforhim]

cradle of love

Pairing; Dark!ish!Joel Miller x Fem Reader

Summary; Since the night you told him you loved him, he's only had one thing on his mind.

Warnings; 18+ minors I'll pop ur kneecaps off! uh. so. this is ALL filth! there's dry humping, sort of somnophilia (ur asleep while he humps u), vaginal fingering, p in v unprotected sex, the whole thing is a breeding kink fic, daddy kink towards the end, dirty talk, praise kink (he praises u loads), gratuitous violence/gore, he stabs someone, oral sex fem receiving, swearing, that might be it?

(a/n) okay so. yeah took me a little while. but in my defence, i now give you like four and a half thousand words of smut. and some other stuff. i am actually quite proud of this one now!!!!!! it takes place directly after 'a sentimental noose' but can be read separately i think-title is Cradle Of Love by Billy Idol!!

Word Count; 8.3k ish

masterlist/all joel fics

It’s early, much earlier than he needs to be awake. Almost no one else is up, the building is silent and you’re asleep as well. He’d cracked the window open last night and there’s a bird somewhere near it, singing something melodic.

The only sound in the apartment is the quiet creaking of the bed you and Joel share, the rhythmic rocking of it shifting slightly side to side as Joel moves. He’s barely awake, only semi aware of his surroundings, but aware that you’re still fast asleep. The night before was intense for both of you, and he knows you should sleep in-so when he woke up rutting into you he decided he’d just be as quiet as he can.

He’s spooning you, the big spoon for once, and his arms are wound around your stomach, crossing over each other and holding you to his chest. Some of your hair is tickling his face but he ignores it, too focused on the way his cock is jutting forward against your ass, how he can push his hips forward and feel the friction of his briefs over his member as he thrusts. 

His forehead presses against your back as he clenches his jaw, pulls you tighter to him and his movements get messier. It’s an uneven rhythm, erratic and all over the place. There’s a groan building in him as he gets closer to the edge and he swears quietly, trying his damn hardest not to wake you up even though your body is jolting forward every time he drives his cock up between the cheeks of your ass and the bed frame is squeaking a little, protesting his movements.

Joel’s mind is a mess, a jumble of heated, tangled thoughts of the night before. Of you pressing his hand into your stomach-into your womb, telling him he can give you life. He’d been dreaming of it, feverish scenes of you round with his child flashing through his mind and had woken up already moving. He can’t help it-the thought of you filled with him is enough to make his cock throb, enough to make him pulse and grunt and grind into you as you sleep.

It’s a mark of how well he tired you out last night that you still haven’t woken up and his chest swells with pride a little, knowing he’s rendered you so deeply unconscious like this. Breathing heavily, he loosens his arms around you so he can press his palms against your stomach. He rubs them in calming circles, small movements that make him imagine doing it over a small bump. Make him imagine feeling the life growing in you as he soothes you, feeling a baby kick as he rests his cheek against it. It makes his dick twitch and he grunts as he thrusts rougher than before.

You mumble something in your sleep and shift, rolling onto your front a little and stretching your arm out above you-Joel falters when you move, before taking in your new position and pulling himself to lie over you, slipping his arms out from underneath you and bracketing your head with his forearms. He hooks his chin into the crook of your neck this time, lightly sucking at your jaw as he tangles his legs with yours and drops his hips again.

The angle is better this time, but he reaches a hand down to tug at the waistband of your underwear and push them down to make it more satisfying. It’s so hot against his shaft now even though he’s still wearing his underwear, stifling heat pressing in on him and he rocks down against you. 

It builds in him slowly, almost unnoticeable until he reaches his peak-his thrusts get even sloppier, messily humping the swell of your ass until something inside him snaps and he groans, trying unsuccessfully to swallow the sound so he doesn’t wake you.

Now the only sound in the apartment is his heavy panting, hot breath blowing across your shoulder as he grimaces at the feel of the sudden wet patch on his briefs. Rolling off of you, he pulls the duvet up a little and turns his head to watch you. Runs his fingers up your spine and watches goosebumps rise in their wake, trails his hand up your side to graze against the curve of your breast and wonders how long it might take when you’re pregnant for your bump to grow big enough that you won’t be able to sleep on your front. 

-

He’s dressed and up and about when you wake, scrounging up some coffee and leaning back on the counter as he watches you sit up. The duvet falls from your chest and his body immediately reacts to the sight of your tits, cock jumping behind his zipper when your nipples harden because of the breeze coming from the window. When you catch sight of him staring at you, you flop back onto your pillow, grumbling about how you wanted to shower with him this morning. 

He grins at that, a rare expression on Joel’s face. There’s no one else around and it’s early after all, who’s gonna see but you?

He grins as he walks over, grins as he bends down and presses a kiss to your forehead and grins when you instantly stop grumbling and smile at him. 

-

A week goes by, and he’s simmering with rage. 

A week of perimeter issues, Ellie’s troubles, guard training, weapons detail, city trips, hunting, building construction-a week of barely touching you. 

He’s seething, boiling inside every time someone asks him to do something. The first day after, it was asking if he could help train some new guards with the guns they just got-so Joel figured he could wait until the next day to be with you. But the day after that it was making sure the new schoolroom was being built properly-so then he figured it’s irritating but he’ll wait another day to do what you both need. The day after that was something to do with Ellie and some girl (he’s still unsure what he spent the day actually doing)-and by that point he was grinding his teeth, coming back to the apartment to find you already asleep. The day after that was a trip to the city with Tommy and a few others, hunting and searching for whatever they could find-he was furious when they got back, barely answering anyone and gripping the hilt of his knife as he thought about his hand over your stomach. 

Then the hunting then checking weapons then securing the perimeter and now here he is, waiting by his truck so he and Tommy can go to a gas station they saw way out in the middle of nowhere a few days ago. Great. Just what he wants to be doing. Scavenging an abandoned grimy gas station on a road to nowhere for a few measly supplies instead of pinning you to the bed, pressing your thighs up into your chest and-

And you’re jogging towards him, grin working its way onto your face. Though he’s confused, he can’t help the way his features immediately soften as he looks at you, everything else muted and his body flushing every time you catch his eye. He assumed he’d get used to it, but months have gone by and while seeing you feels like coming home after a long day, he still gets fucking butterflies when you smile at him. Stomach somersaulting, spine straightening, face heating. 

Joel quirks a brow at you when you come to a stop in front of him, bouncing on the balls of your feet and giving him a knowing look when his gaze drops to your cleavage, which jiggles ever so slightly as you move. 

“Swapped with Tommy so I could come along today-” You take a step forward, raising your eyebrows questioningly, and lean into him as you carry on, “-hope that’s okay with you?”

With a quick glance around to confirm the yard you’re in is empty, you duck your head to press a quick kiss to his jaw, lingering for a second too long and flicking your tongue out against the same spot as you move away. Then you’re walking off, sending an all too innocent smile over your shoulder as you round the truck to get to your side. 

“Minx-”

Joel grumbles at you quietly, pushing off the side of the vehicle and subtly adjusting his jeans. One touch from you and he’s ready to go. Figures.

You fill the drive with mindless chatter, just talking about your week and what you did-Joel feels a burst of anger, bothered by the fact he’s hearing all of this for the first time because he’s barely even seen you this week. His hand claps onto your thigh, rubbing up and down gently as you speak. He’s barely even aware when he does this nowadays, an automatic action he goes through the motions of when he’s next to you. It just feels right, like his hand is waiting to be there-he’ll sit down next to you and it will naturally fall to your thigh, soothing mindless circles or brushing his thumb back and forth gently. Joel also barely notices that his hand squeezes, tightens minutely when you talk about patrol you went on with some guards. 

You fumble over your words for a second when you feel it, look over at him to see if something’s wrong but he shows no reaction, hasn’t even noticed his grip has tightened and only hums in response to your story. 

It tightens again, fingers digging into your skin when you tell him about how one of the guys killed an infected for you. There’s something in the back of his mind that realises now, a subconscious part of him that’s boiling over when he thinks about some other guy, a pitiful guard having the honour of saving your life-the privilege of being in your presence while he was busy doing god knows what. That part of him seems satisfied by his firm grip on you, encourages him, tells him if he just squeezes a little harder you’ll have bruises, marks-Joel’s brands marring your pretty skin. He does so, sliding his palm further up before pressing his fingers back down, pushing his presence into the meat of your thigh and satisfying himself with the sound of your breath hitching. His hands stays like that for the rest of the drive.

-

It’s dirty. The entire thing is filthy. Most things are nowadays, having been abandoned for over twenty years, but christ. Both of you simply stand by the truck for a full minute when you get out, unwilling to step inside the thoroughly ominous gas station. Joel hears you sigh and turns towards you, watching you cross your arms and huff at the grime.

“Yknow those horror movies they put on downstairs sometimes? Well you probably saw them when they came out originally didn’t you-”

“For the last time darlin’ I was not middle aged when Psycho came out, believe it or not that was before my time-”

“Sure sure, I believe you-”

He barks out a laugh as he replies, “No you fuckin’ don’t-”

“No I don’t-”

Laughs again, tries to ignore the memory of when you’d teased him for being an old man and he’d shown you exactly what he could still do.

“I just feel like someone is going to run out of there and yell at us that if we go any further then we won’t come back because no one everrrrrr doessssss-”

An amused expression crosses his face when you try and take on a scary voice, fixing him with a wild look. It makes him think of Ellie briefly, and the time when you’d joined their little group. When he’d barely spoken to you and yet Ellie had brought you into their family, showed you her Will Livingston books and you’d told her your own jokes, your own stories, treated her like an adult-like an equal. He’d have to thank that girl for not letting him just move on and be his ‘grumpy bitchy lonely usual self’ as she’d so lovingly put it. He’d probably be dead by now if she hadn’t. Things without you don’t seem to have any worth anymore.

“Well, if someone does that at least it means we can go back early don’t it? Cmon let’s get this over with and then we can finally have a couple of quiet fuckin’ days-”

He takes a step forward but falters when you grab his hand and swing your arm with his a little, coming next to him and pulling him toward the building. Joel’s sure his jacket must be visibly moving, pulsing forward as his heart beats heavily at your closeness. Part of him relishes the reaction you draw from him, the way he’s never felt it before you and how he’s allowed to be like this now-the other part scolds him for still catching his breath when he’s near you. It’s been months, after all.

“Fine, fine-but I’m throwing you at the insane guy first and running if it does happen-”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less, sweetheart-” 

The words are sarcastic, gruff and sardonic-but he knows you know him, and you laugh as you both reach the door of the gas station, windows cracked and blackened like everything else here.

He’d want you to do it as well, would throw himself at anything, dive in headfirst as long as you got away safe.

The inside of the gas station doesn’t look much better than the outside, and for a second Joel really does expect someone to run out from behind a shelf and scream that this is the end of you both. 

But nothing happens, and you move to the right to pick through some old products littering the floor. His hand feels cold when you drop yours from it, fingers itching to reach out again, but he turns to the left and copies your actions, comforting himself with the fact tonight he’ll finally have you again. It’s been too long and his body aches for yours, hurts with need at the thought.

There’s not much in the place, a couple of useless things or disgustingly out of date items of food, so he finds a door near the back, lets you know he’s checking it out and to yell if you need anything. You have the gun he’d given you, but you shouldn’t have to use it. That’s why he’s here.

The door opens up on the side of the gas station, a parking lot with two burnt out trucks and an abandoned car in it. Joel squints against the sun, briefly wondering when it’ll be warm again. It’s been cold weather since you’ve been together, and he often finds himself thinking of the summer clothes you might wear, the tighter shirts and the small shorts. He’s seen them amongst your things, imagined you wearing them and touched himself to the fantasies, but he knows nothing will compare to the real thing. 

Shouldering his rifle, he takes a few steps toward the back of the building-but before he rounds the corner, there’s the sound of a twig snapping. 

He edges toward the greenery out back, where nature has done its best to reclaim the industrial wasteland Joel currently stands in. The concrete ground is cracked and split, bulging up with shrubbery sprouting out, trees bursting up and some flowers dotted through the invasion-it distracts him for a moment, the sight of such pretty blossoms amidst the dingy ruins. 

When he tears his eyes away from the flowers, they land on a man slowly inching toward the back of the gas station. Joel can hear you moving around inside, knows you have no idea there’s anyone else here and realises the man must have thought the same. 

It’s a toss up, what the man wants right now.

He could be searching for supplies, same as you two. He could be trying to find something for a family or children. He could be out hunting. He could be like that preacher he and Ellie unfortunately encountered. He could have seen you, could want you for his own sick reasons.

Whichever is true, the risk is too much for Joel. Better to be safe than sorry, right?

His hand reaches for the rifle but he stops, hesitates as he watches the man holster a knife and pause by the wall, appearing to look through a window. He drops his hand when he realises he must be looking at you-drops his hand to his side where the hunting knife he’d sheathed that morning rests on his belt. 

The man doesn’t really do anything, just stands there. Watching, waiting.

It’s enough to convince Joel he doesn’t have any remotely decent intentions, and as the man reaches down to a bag by his feet for something, he strides out from the side of the building. 

The amount of times Joel has done this means he’s practised, poised and silent as he comes up beside the man, who only registers Joel’s presence and straightens up a beat too late. Late enough that Joel has no problems pulling his knife from its holster, bringing his arm up in a wide arc and smoothly sliding the blade into the back of his neck. 

The tip splits the skin of his throat, pokes out like a grotesque mirror of the plants splitting the concrete below. 

A river of blood streams down his neck, a veritable tidal wave of glossy redness soaking his shirt as he sputters and gurgles. It’s a simple task for Joel, an addition to a to-do list and he doesn’t react-only the corners of his mouth twitch up when the man coughs and spits up a spurt of blood, splattering over Joel’s jaw a little. He sighs at the feeling, more inconvenienced than anything, and pulls the knife from his neck.

He drops to his knees, evidently having only been held up by the obscene spearing of his throat, coughs and splutters again, attempts to cover the wound with his hands as red stains his palms. Joel watches slightly disdainfully, somewhat bored as the man flops back weakly and lets his hands fall to the ground either side of him. 

It becomes slightly more entertaining for Joel when the man tries to talk once more, and only succeeds in pushing a spurt of blood out of the torn flesh, which lands with a splatter on the concrete next to him. Joel huffs out a laugh at the scene, as he watches the spontaneous little fountain of blood, an amusing display worth nothing more than a smile and an exhale. 

Joel startles slightly when you knock on the window behind him to try and get his attention. 

“Find anything?”

With a quick glance down, he realises that you can’t see the body from your position, how it’s fallen just under the window sill and how the blood is pooling into a gutter below it, pouring down towards a drain a few metres away. If anything, it only serves to reassure Joel, let him know that it’s okay he did that-he was protecting you, and the universe is even helping him clear up the mess. That’s always the hardest part, he thinks briefly.

Joel clears his throat, reaches to pick up the backpack the man had left on the floor and raises it to the window so you can see. Keeps his face angled slightly away, red splatter in the shadows.

“Just this-assume someone just dropped it or left it behind-wait there I’ll come back ‘round-”

You nod happily at him and he can’t help the way his lower belly flares with heat at your easy submission, cock hardening a little as you accept even just the smallest command without question. You don’t even want to check out the back of the gas station, have no interest in verifying Joel’s word-such a simple gesture, but one that shows him how completely you trust him. How perfect you are for him, always taking his word as gospel when it comes to protecting you. 

And you should, really-he does all of this for you after all. Raises his body count, does things he would have been sentenced for in a previous life and all to make sure you’re okay. 

He walks slowly back to the door, spitting on a scrap of fabric as he goes and rubbing it against his jaw to clear away the splashes of blood. The man has ended up as nothing more than a nuisance, annoyingly. A simple stain to be tutted at and wiped away.

When he walks back into the gas station, you’re standing by a slim set of shelves, turned just enough to the side that he can’t see if they contain anything. When he takes a few steps toward you though, you snap your head towards him, give him a strange, stiff smile and stride over to the door leading back to the truck.

“Anythin’ over there darlin’?”

“Nothing we need, cmon let’s go-I’m starving already-”

He nods at you as you walk out before walking over to the shelves you were eyeing, curious as to what you don’t think you both need. Anything and everything is helpful these days, and your expression worried him a little.

Except when he comes to stand in front of the shelves, he finds himself looking at two boxes of condoms. 

His mind goes blank immediately, ears buzzing as he takes in what you said. Nothing we need. 

It makes him swear quietly, a gritted ‘fuck’ echoing off the walls as he thinks about the week before, about what he’s been trying not to imagine the entire morning otherwise he would have simply pulled over on the side of the road and taken you there and then. 

He’ll do that another time, but at the moment he’s preoccupied with the thought that you don’t want to grab any more condoms, that you’re done with using protection. He knows those pills you found have run out as well, and the next time you’re together he won’t be pulling out. 

Tightening his grip on the backpack, he clenches his jaw and strides out after you toward the truck. The door to your side is closed so you must just be waiting for him, sitting quietly until he gets there. It works in his favour because he stops by your side instead of walking round the hood to his, yanks on the handle and pulls it open to your surprise. 

The force of his movement pushes the door back far enough that it bounces back a little, creaks and protests his strength as you look up at him with wide eyes. You blink when he drops the bag and his rifle, letting them clatter to the floor before bending slightly and grabbing your thighs-he tugs on them with almost the same force as he used with the door, ignores your surprised yelp as he pulls you until you face him and moves to fiddle with the button and zipper on your jeans.

He doesn’t even look back up at your face as he shifts to kneel between your legs, aware you’re leaning back on your elbows but too focused on tugging your trousers down to glance up. You mutter his name quietly, questioningly, but he ignores that as well. Simply pulls one of your shoes off and your trouser leg with it, leaves the material hanging off one foot so he can yank your knees apart, shoulder his way between them and press his face against your covered cunt. 

You breath hitches when he does so, and you let yourself fall a little further back as he pushes his nose against you. He doesn’t move for a few moments, just stays there and inhales you. It gives you time to think about your surroundings, think about the fact that though it’s unlikely, it’s entirely possible that another group of people will come along, think they might find supplies in this dilapidated gas station and instead find you lying half in the seat of a truck, legs chucked haphazardly over Joel’s shoulders as he kneels on the filthy tarmac and shoves his face into your pussy. There’s no doubt Joel wouldn’t take kindly to that, wouldn’t accept the possibility that someone might see you in such an intimate position-a state reserved for him and him only.

Joel suddenly licks a stripe up the fabric covering you, stiffening his tongue and poking it harshly against your clit as he grunts at the taste of you. He flicks the muscle against your bundle of nerves, closing his eyes as you begin to soak through the material and moan at his actions.

One of his hands slides up your torso to grasp at your tits, kneading them roughly as he probes his tongue against your slit, edging the fabric into you slightly as he pushes the tip into your messy entrance through your panties. It feels downright filthy, obscene and dirty as he mouths at you, sloppy open mouthed kisses pressed to your cunt and spit mixing with your juices soaking the fabric. It makes him a little light headed, the wet noises he’s coaxing from your pussy, the taste of your slick on his lips and your whines as he fucks his tongue shallowly into your dripping hole.

Joel knows that there’s every chance people will come along, find him desperately eating you out half in the truck and half on the grimy concrete, but he couldn’t care less. If anyone did show up, it wouldn’t take long to grab his rifle from the floor anyway-he could take care of them and go back to taking care of you in under a minute, most likely. It shouldn’t make it better but it does, the brief thought of bodies littering the parking lot as he swirls his tongue around your clit.

The fantasy makes him groan, makes him force himself harder against you and grope at your chest harshly. Your hips buck up at the feeling and his mind is one thought, the burning need to make you come blazing through him and he closes his lips around your clit, sucks on the swollen bud and grunts in satisfaction when you writhe and jerk in his hold. He knows you’re close, soaked panties clinging to your puffy lips and abused clit throbbing as he suckles at it-it only takes him pinching your nipple, tugging it cruelly, to push you over the edge and make you arch your back, rocking your hips up into his face and forcing out whiny little ‘uh’s with every renewed suck from Joel. 

He lets up when you start pushing weakly on his arms, pressing against his head to try and force him off your sensitive cunt. It takes a few seconds but he opens his eyes eventually, lifts his head up and finally looks at you, takes in the flushed and sweaty state he’s reduced you to and reaches a hand down to slide inside his jeans into his briefs-squeezes at the base of his cock, attempting to reign himself in a little. 

He watches your chest rise and fall a few times, listens to your heavy breathing before dipping his head and flattening his tongue against your panties again. It punches a quiet swear out of you, hands tugging on his hair to try and pull him away as you throb and pulse under his ministrations. It doesn’t work though and he resists your feeble attempts so he can lick at your slit again, lap up the wetness dripping out of you onto the fabric. A muted sob leaves you, hips jerking in his hold as he drags the material into his mouth and sucks on it, drains your slick right out of it just to taste a little bit more of you.

Joel lets your panties go with a pop, eyes darkening as they fall back to your pussy with a wet slap. He massages slow circles into your stomach, soft movements that almost give you whiplash from the harsh way he’d attacked your cunt only seconds beforehand-your pleasure addled mind is only further confused when he gently tugs the leg of your jeans back over your foot and slides your shoe on afterwards, pressing a soft kiss to your thigh before pulling the trousers up further.

He stands up with a pained groan afterward, forgetting his achy joints in the fog of needing to taste you, and ducks his head under the roof of the truck to lean over you. His chest puffs out a little with pride when he sees your face, red and sweaty and almost slack with pleasure. You make a small noise of surprise when he presses a gentle kiss to your lips, not attempting to deepen it in any way, just content to feel your soft lips on his. He pulls away when you start feeling a little light headed with the need for air, and brushes some hair from your forehead as he whispers into your mouth.

“Thanks for that darlin’-”

That clears your mind a little, makes you furrow your brow in confusion.

“I-jesus-I should be thanking you-why-why are you-”

“I was gettin’ hungry.”

The only response he gets is a soft ‘oh’ as your eyes widen, so he pulls back and lets you sit up properly before shutting your door, walking round to his and sliding into the driver's seat. 

You’re staring at him when he starts the truck, lips parted and eyes wide as he acts as though his cock isn’t pressing painfully against his zipper and as if he can’t still taste you.

The journey back is pretty much silent, only the occasional rustle as you shift in your seat, underwear uncomfortably soaked. When he pulls back into the yard it’s still quiet, and you barely even make a sound as you get out of the truck, legs trembling a little and mind consumed with the feeling of Joel’s mouth over your underwear. He turns his head to watch you gingerly walk to the back of the truck and pokes his tongue out over his top lip, running the tip of it through the bristles of his moustache. It’s still saturated with the taste of you.

-

He stays barely one foot behind you as you both make your way up to the apartment, overrun with the need to have you close.

If he’s being honest he came a little too close to fucking you in the parking lot, mind clouded with thoughts of his come dripping out of you-thoughts of breeding you. 

But you deserve better than that, deserve somewhere nicer. He wants to do it right, wants to make you and your future child proud-which is why he doesn’t protest when you tell him you’re tired, that you want to spend time with him but you’re exhausted already and promised Ellie you’d help her out tomorrow morning. He just kisses you on the forehead and nods, nudging you towards the bed and heading to the shower to take himself in hand to thoughts of you.

-

Joel wakes up lying on you. The bulk of him settled between your legs, front pressed against you and head cushioned on your soft chest. 

He wakes up like this fairly often, but this time he’s still overrun with the memory of yesterday, of the truck and the man he’d protected you from, of the condoms you don’t need and his fantasies in the shower. 

Most often, he’ll wake you up next. Skate his lips over your breasts, trail marks and gentle kisses up your neck until you mumble a good morning to him. This is one of the rare exceptions you’re touching him instead. 

He’d rather you’d woken him up the same way he likes to wake you, but your hands are pushing on his shoulders, futilely struggling against his weight as you try and roll him off of you. 

Joel just raises his head, presses his lips together in a thin line and quirks a brow at you in silent questioning-he’s greeted with a sheepish and slightly apologetic look for waking him. 

“Sorry sorry-it’s just I promised Ellie-I think I said last night so I just gotta-”

“Wake me up? Was havin’ a lovely sleep on this comfy set of pillows darlin’-”

“Glad you like my breasts for all the right reasons-but no not wake you up it’s not my fault you’re half deaf and…weighty-shush-I mean so I gotta get up and go-”

Your last word is accentuated with a rougher thrust against his shoulder-though it only rocks his upper body slightly before he falls back over you and smiles at your indignant huff. 

“You don’t gotta go-you’re not meeting Ellie this morning so let me get back to my pillows huh?”

“I-yes I do-I literally do she asked for my help and I said of course I’ll be there in the morning-and Joel?”

“Huh?”

“It’s the morning.”

“Yeah yeah it is the morning, but I told Ellie you weren’t seein’ her cause you’re busy-”

“I’m not b-”

“If you stop trynna push me off and let me take care of you, you’re gonna be busy real fuckin’ soon-”

Joel finishes by interrupting himself, getting distracted by your tits so close to him and his mind blanks-closes his lips over your pebbled nipple and kneads your other breast roughly, sucking harder when you hum in satisfaction. All he can think is that in a number of months, your chest will be bigger, breasts heavy ready to provide for your child.

His hands migrate to your sides, slip under you as his eyes fall shut and press you up into his waiting mouth, grunting when you gasp and letting your tender flesh go with a wet pop so he can circle the bud lightly with his tongue. 

Your hands have stopped pushing at his shoulders, simply digging your fingers into his skin as you drop your head back at the feeling of his warm, wet mouth.

“But-but I said I’d-”

He barely hears you, mind fogged and everything else muted as he dreams of you round with his child, though some of your words get vaguely through to him. You’re protesting. Why are you protesting again?

He sighs when he eventually realises what you’re trying to say and drops his forehead onto your chest, brushes his lips across your sternum and looks up to see you struggle opening your eyes.

“Why won’t you let me do this? S’all I wanna do right now, been waiting all week darlin’-don’t you remember what you said to me? Jus’ wanna make you feel good-”

Joel doesn’t wait for an answer, just shifts down your body as the bed creaks and presses a line of kisses over your stomach, smoothing one of his hands in gentle circles and feeling your soft belly under his palm. Ready, waiting for him.

“Cmon sweetheart-just let me do this-got nowhere to be now after all huh?”

He can feel the moment you agree, the moment you relax in his grip. It clouds his mind again, knowing he only has to say a few words before you comply with him. 

“Attagirl-jus’ want you t’lie there and look pretty for me, hm? So good at that aren’t you-”

Breath hitching at his words, you tap on his shoulder lightly to make him shuffle up the bed again, hips settled against yours as he looks down at you in awe. So sweet and soft, so pretty and ready to be with child-

It’s only when you gasp and tug his head down to yours, crush your lips against his roughly that he realises he’s said that out loud. Mind reeling, ears ringing and hips grinding into yours subconsciously.

You swallow his grunt when he recognises your desire for what he’s said, feels the need rolling off of you in waves-it’s the same way he’s been for the last week, desperate and addicted to the thought of it. He rests on one forearm beside your head and slips the other hand between your body, skates his fingers teasingly over your breasts and your stomach and down down down-it feels like too long, like somehow his hand will never reach where you need it to be but then he’s there suddenly.

Cupping his hand over your pussy, simply feeling you as he explores your mouth, letting you writhe and try to buck your hips into his palm. It doesn’t take long for him to give in, doesn’t take long for him to start sucking marks into your neck as he dips the tip of his middle finger into your entrance, just barely edging into you. 

The way you whine at the feeling has him rutting his hips down gently and scraping his teeth over an already darkening mark on your collarbone-when your nails dig into his shoulders he can’t resist it, feels like there’s no other option than pressing the digit slowly into you, soaking in the feeling of your dripping walls parting around him and your back arching against his chest.

He sinks the finger into you easily, down the knuckle and so fucking deep. Joel always reaches parts inside you that you barely even knew were there, presses against them just right until you’re keening under him and crying his name-it’s no different right now, even just one finger pumping in and out of your slick channel and the heel of his thumb bumping up against your clit with every thrust.

Lifting his head from your neck, he watches in wonder as your face contorts with pleasure, ignoring the string of spit connecting his lips and a purpling hickey under your jaw.

“Y’so pretty f’me darlin’-gonna be even prettier when y’got my baby inside you won’t you? S’right, gonna be the prettiest when your stomach’s all-all round and-”

It’s a marvel what you do to him, he thinks, that in moments like this he’s suddenly unable to stop talking-that he’ll barely talk to anyone throughout the day and then he’s with you and it’s as though the words are choking him, forcing their way out as he watches you fall apart under him. 

It always shocks you a little as well, so used to the stoic grumpy Joel that everyone else knows, even though you’ve seen what’s underneath, that it thrums through you, like his words sink through you and pulse through your cunt, make you flutter and clench around his finger as his fantasies and dreams pour out of him. 

“So tight ‘round my finger-gonna be even tighter on my cock I bet-know this pussy’s gonna be so good for me darlin’-shit-stay so fuckin’ tight and keep my come inside, make sure it takes-”

He feels you quiver around the digit steadily sliding in and out of you, feels the way your body tenses a little with anticipation when he talks about you pregnant with his child and he crooks it just so, pressing the pad of it exactly where you need it to be.

Joel bucks against you as your mouth drops open, drives his cock messily against your thigh as you fall over the edge and moan and clench around him, cunt spasming and fingers pressing marks into his arms. He fleetingly thinks he could come like this if you wanted him to, sloppily pushing himself into your soft skin as you writhe and jerk below him. All you’d have to do is ask-he’ll do anything if you ask.

When you come down you tug his face back to yours, lick into his mouth and make him groan and all he can feel is you. 

“Fuck-please-cmon Joel just-want you inside me now-please just-said you wanna-shit-see me all-see me round with-will you just-”

One hand grips your hip at that, tightens so hard he knows you’ll have bruises, pretty marks just for him, and he’s nodding before you finish. Nodding at you and shoving his briefs down to find some relief, nodding as he pushes his face into the crook of your neck and making his scruffy beard scrape along your skin. 

“Shit-shit-yeah okay-gonna-fuck-gonna fuck you real good sweetheart-gonna make sure you-you got my baby in you-gonna make me a daddy real soon aren’t you?” 

His words dissolve into vague mumbles, desperate noises pressed into your neck as he just nuzzles against you, drags his nose up the column of your throat and breathes you in, fills himself with you. 

He pulls himself up for a second and looks down to see his cock slide against you, feel the underside drag against your wetness and the tip catch on your clit with every movement. It feels like the first time every time, like he’s never felt you before and he can never fucking believe you let him have you like this, let him fuck you however he wants, let him please you like this and now you’re letting him fuck a baby into you. 

Joel’s distantly aware you’re pleading with him just to fuck you already but he can barely hear you, just trying not to drool on your chest when he thinks about how this is happening, this is now-you’re going to have his child, his baby. 

He takes his hand from your hip to reach it down, position himself at your entrance. Almost drops his hips the moment he does, feels hot, wet heaven against the head of his cock and has to fight the urge to shove himself into you in one thrust. 

You take matters into your own hands and hook a leg around his hip, push your heel into the back of his thigh and he almost buckles against you, body flushing at the need radiating from you. There’s a flush spreading from your chest up your neck, staining your cheeks and he presses his forehead against it, beads of sweat mixing with yours as he pushes himself forward, just moving slow slow slow.

A shuddering breath leaves him, shaky and unsteady as he moves-his pace is almost painful, torturous and just barely soothing the ache inside you, the emptiness. And then his hips are flush with yours, body trembling above you as the head of his cock nudges inside you and presses exactly where you need it. Skin on skin, walls stretched around him and all he can think-

“S’right-’course I was right darlin’-so fuckin’ tight for me-can-fuck-can feel you clenchin’ on my dick-jesus sweetheart-gonna have to relax a little f’me if you want me t’fuck you proper-gonna let me-fuck-let me do this right yeah? Gonna let me fuck a baby into your pretty cunt? Just like that, ah, so perfect f’me-”

Joel feels your chest rise against his forehead, hears the shaky breath leave you as you relax yourself around him and his hips sink down another centimetre. With a gritted out ‘fuck’ you clench around him again, and a strangled groan escapes him, slightly muffled against your skin as he tries to control himself. 

“Not-not gonna-shit-not gonna last too long right now sweetheart so-”

You surprise him with a small laugh, breathy and strained as you try to relax again, and brush your fingers through his hair-much to his pleasure as he shudders lightly.

“S’okay Joel-sooner you come sooner I’m pregnant right?”

He does buckle at that, lets his weight fall on you and slips his arms beneath you to press your chest against his, grinds listlessly into you just to hear you gasp and whine at the sheer intensity you’re feeling. 

“So fuckin’ good-so so good, lettin’ me fuck you like this-gonna let me come inside this pretty pussy aren’t you? Let me fill you up till you can’t-fuck-till you can’t take anymore-till you’re all-all round ‘nd your stomach’s all swollen ‘nd you’re, shit, carryin’ my baby-”

It’s like his words echo through you, bounce around your skull until it’s all you can hear, like the only thing is Joel-all you can hear and feel and see and smell and taste it’s all Joel telling you how pretty you’re going to look when you’re pregnant, how you’re gonna be such a pretty momma, gonna be the best anyone’s ever seen won’t you sweetheart? Fuckin’ beautiful growing my baby, makin’ me a daddy ‘nd helping grow our little family-so good for me, such a good girl lettin’ me do this-

His hips are only pulling back an inch or so before rutting into you again, reluctant to part from you any further. There’s people moving around in the halls of the apartment building, someone yelling on the floor below but for the moment, for you two, it’s just this. Just the bed rocking gently against the wall, just your gasps as the head of his cock punches into that spot inside you, just his grunts and mumbled praises, his thank you’s spoken into your neck. 

His movements get sloppier, thrusts more erratic and you can’t even hear what he’s saying at this point so you wrap your legs around his hips, hold him to your body and feel him press an open mouthed kiss to your collarbone in response. 

You’re there before you know it, waves of pleasure steadily rising in you as he grinds down into you and rocks against your clit, giving you just enough pressure to make you tighten around him. Teeth scrape across your neck when you cry out, digging in just enough to leave a mark and work you over the edge, and his arms tighten where they’re wrapped around you, still pressing you up into him. His movements make your nipples graze across his chest, the last bit of blinding pleasure you need before your hips are bucking up under his, legs jerking around his hips and moans falling from you. 

“Fuck-attagirl, that’s it-look so pretty when you come on my cock don’t you? Wanna hear it-cmon darlin’-”

“Joel-shit-” 

“No cmon-wanna hear you say it f’me-just look so pretty like this don’t you? Use your words sweetheart, tell me how pretty y'look comin' on my cock yeah?”

His words force an embarrassed whine from you, body overworked from his thrusts and his desperation.

“I-jesus-I look-Joel please-”

“You say it and I fill this sweet little cunt, get you all nice and pregnant-just wanna hear it-just once-let me hear you say it-”

Joel slows his thrusts as he talks, makes you whimper at the loss even though every part of you feels strung out and abused, indulges himself in long, languid strokes that make him groan and pant against you.

“God-look-look so pretty-I look so pretty coming on your-on daddy’s cock-”

It’s slightly pathetic the way the words spill out of you, how you hiccup through them a little and drop your head back on the pillow as you utter the name-but Joel gasps at you, sucks in a heaving breath and slams his hips into yours one last time, feeds as much of his cock into you as he can as he coats your walls with his come, does exactly as he promised and fills you up, stuffs you to the brim until you feel wetness dripping out of you, squeezing past his shaft and sliding down to your ass. 

He feels it too though, pulls himself up with some difficulty and slides his cock out of you-before you can ask he’s reaching next to you to grab his pillow, tugging on one of your legs so he can slot it under your hips and prop you up. You hum contentedly when you realise, let your eyes fall closed as Joel just watches, watches your hole flutter around nothing and watches drops of his come slip onto the pillow. It won’t do.

He’s leaning over you again suddenly, pressing soft kisses to your neck and it’s so gentle, intimate and a brutal contrast from the way he then presses two fingers to your clit, rubs little circles over the hood and shushes you when you whine at him.

“That’s it-gotta come one more time for me darlin’-jus’ one more time-such a good girl lettin’ daddy fill you up but y’gotta let me make you come again yeah? Gonna help-gonna improve our chances huh? Gonna make sure my-fuck-seed takes-that you’re gonna be pregnant with my baby-our baby soon-yeah cmon-just a little more-did so well f’daddy just now, you can do it again-”

“Can’t-shit-don’t think-”

“Yeah y’can sweetheart, gonna be good for daddy aren’t you? Know you’re gonna be such a good girl and come again won’t you-”

It’s downright cruel the way he croons at you, gruff voice tinged in sweetness as he forces you over the edge again, fingers petting tight little circles on your clit until your mouth drops open in a silent scream, back arching and legs trembling. 

The look in his eyes is…new, something you don’t think you’ve seen before as he stares down at you-though not really at you, more at your stomach, like he’s expecting to see some sign of life already. 

He drags his fingers away slowly, hesitant to stop touching you as always, and he leans over you once again, hovering his face over yours and brushing your lips together. Your mind is in some sort of fog, clouded by Joel’s touch and you don’t even register that he’s speaking until he stops, until the words slowly seep through your pleasure-drugged thoughts.

“I’ll tell the others you don’t feel too well yeah? Let ‘em know you won’t be around this week-gotta take every chance we can right?”

plz comment or reblog if you like this so I know! and to spread my work since likes don't count!! thank u my loves!!!

if you liked my taglist post and i did not tag you, then you liked it after i clearyl said 'do not like this post'. i do not appreciate people who so clearly disregard what i ask of people on my blog.

tags; @some-insomniac-casual @lunxramour @mando-thirst @aphroditesblunt @quinnverses @bunnywithacarrot @bitchyikes @pocket-of-possibilities @pseudonymist @allywritesthings @notsosaneemma @nintenpleasedont @userpedros @marvelcriminalhoe @fanfaresandflowers @cloudroomblog @queerly-anxious @fadinggiantdeaneggs @xuniverseofbeachesx @melonlord280 @harmonity-vibes @bat-fugokinnie @nihilisticsuccubus6 @dollygalore @km575 @allfoolsinluv @rav3n-pascal22 @certainsoulalienpurse @angstylittlepascal @ketxamine @g-a-b-i @thelibrarywhore @roosterz @spookyanamurdock @janetpontiac @kurbisdurbis @sisgotdemons @umnitsa @melavoris @millersdjarin

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[lovesickforhim]

Obsession - Part 1

Summary: Y/N meets her brother's girlfriend's dad for the first time... and they can't seem to stay away from each other. Warnings: older!H, age gap romance, smut to come, angst

Word Count - 4k

"Jake, they're going to be here soon, right? You need to come downstairs so you can introduce me when they get here."

"Calm down, Y/N. I'm coming. Is the food ready?" Jake calls from his room. Y/N nods as she pulls the tray out of the oven before realising that he can't see her and yells back an affirmative. This is big. Jake had never invited any of his girlfriend's families to meet her - it had simply never been that serious before. But he seems to really like Isla, and Y/N, being the protective big sister, made him organise something. From what Y/N knows, Isla's mom is out of the picture, and she lives with her dad.

As Y/N quickly sets the table, she can't help but think about how much has changed since their parents' tragic accident five years ago. She was just 19 at the time, thrust into a world of responsibilities she hadn't been prepared for. But she rose to the challenge, becoming not only Jake's guardian but also his closest confidante and friend.

Now, at 24, Y/N is balancing her own life as well. She's in her final year at university, pursuing a degree in literature. Her love for books and storytelling has always been a part of her, and it's no surprise to anyone who knows her that she has chosen this path. Her dream is to become a writer one day, like her mom had been, crafting novels that will transport readers to different worlds, if only for a little while.

Jake emerges from his room, his usually tousled hair neatly combed. He wears a crisp shirt and a slightly anxious expression. Y/N can't help but smile at her brother. He has grown into a responsible and kind-hearted young man, and she is proud of him for taking this step.

"You look great," Y/N says, offering a reassuring smile. "Just be yourself, and everything will go fine."

Jake nods, though his nervousness is still evident. Y/N knows how much he cares about Isla, and she is determined to make this dinner a pleasant experience for all of them.

As they hear the doorbell ring, Y/N takes a deep breath and prepares herself, sneaking a quick glance at her brother, who looks even more anxious.

"Remember," Y/N whispers to Jake, "just be genuine. Show him that you truly care about Isla, and he'll see the same good-hearted young man that I see."

Jake nods, and they both make their way to the front door. Y/N swings it open and it takes everything in her to keep her jaw from falling open. Isla and her father stand in the doorway, the latter carrying a large bouquet of flowers. But the flowers aren't what has Y/N so taken aback.

The first thing that strikes her is his striking handsomeness. He has a timeless charm about him, with a chiseled jawline, piercing green eyes, and salt-and-pepper hair that only seems to enhance his rugged appeal. His eyes scan her up and down before he offers her a smile, one that Y/N feels in her core. He couldn’t have been older than 45, and he carries himself well. He oozes wealth and success, and Y/N has to remind herself to maintain her composure.

"Hello, Mr. Styles," she manages to say, though her voice quivers slightly. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Y/N, Jake's sister."

Mr. Styles extends his hand with a warm smile. "Y/N, the pleasure is mine, but it's Harry. I insist,” he replies, his voice smooth and comforting.

As they shake hands, Y/N can't help but feel a subtle connection between them, beyond the initial surprise of his appearance. His hand is warm, and she revels in the touch before realizing she might have been holding on a bit too long. She quickly composes herself, dropping his grip as Isla introduces herself, and Y/N sends the young girl what she hopes is a welcoming smile.

As they all settle at the dinner table, Y/N tries to put her initial surprise behind her and focus on making the evening enjoyable for everyone. The conversation flows smoothly, with Jake and Isla sharing stories of their time together. Harry doesn't grill Jake like Y/N had been worried he would, but instead, he is polite and extremely well-spoken. The sleeve of his jacket slides up slightly while he speaks, gesturing with his hands, and Y/N's eyes almost roll off her head when she catches sight of the start of a sleeve of tattoos. He must have noticed her staring because Y/N suddenly feels his eyes on her, and she meets his gaze to find him wearing a slightly mischievous smirk.

"So, Y/N, we haven't heard much from you this evening. Tell me about yourself." He leans forward, taking a sip of his wine, staring at her over the top of his glass.

"Oh, um," Y/N begins, feeling the blush rise to her cheeks. She is mindful that Jake and Isla are also seated at the table, so she needs to control herself.

"I'm in my final year at university currently. I'm studying literature."

"Really? It's one of my interests as well. I used to teach it before I took over running my father's company."

"Oh, that's amazing. I'm the same way… Jake likes to joke that we're going to run out of space for all my books." Y/N laughs, and Harry joins in her laughter. Jake simply rolls his eyes, muttering to Isla about how Y/N is going to fill his room with books when he moves out.

"Y/N, I forgot to ask you about this, and Mr. Styles, I hope it's alright, but I actually managed to get Isla and me concert tickets for this evening. Would it be alright if we went? I promise we'll be back before midnight." Jake pipes up, rubbing his hands together nervously. Y/N shoots Harry a look, who simply shrugs and nods.

"As long as you're being safe, I think that should be okay. Have fun, you two. Y/N and I will clean up."

Jake and Isla quickly bid their goodbyes, with Y/N and Isla exchanging numbers, and Y/N making the younger girl promise to text her if she ever needs anything. When the door shuts behind them, Harry and Y/N are left alone, and the air in the room shifts considerably.

"So…"

"So…" Harry mimics, coaxing a small laugh from Y/N.

"You don't have to stay. I can clean up alone. I'm sure you'd rather get home." Y/N says as she starts taking the plates to the sink.

"No, I'd like to stay. Get to know you a bit more." Harry picks up the wine glasses and follows her into the kitchen. Her breath hitches as she feels him behind her, but he simply reaches over her to place the glasses in the sink before moving back to the table to grab more things.

"Are you sure? No one waiting for you at home?" The question slips out before Y/N can stop it, and she internally facepalms. Get it together, Y/N. He isn’t interested. He's older than her, by a lot. Even if he didn’t have a girlfriend, what he did have was a hell of a lot more experience.

Harry appears back in the doorway of the kitchen, holding more plates, his smirk back on his face.

"No… no one at home. Are you trying to kick me out? Got a boyfriend coming over?"

"No boyfriend. I… haven’t had much luck in that department." She turns away from him, facing the sink so he wouldn’t be able to see the blush on her cheeks.

"Really? Pretty girl like you? I would assume the boys would be falling at your feet."

She shakes her head in a silent laugh as she loads the dishwasher before pulling out two clean wine glasses, lifting one in offering.

"One more glass wouldn’t hurt. Then I’ll leave you to your evening." He takes it with a nod of thanks, opening the bottle, and Y/N moves to sit on the couch, bringing the glasses with her. He sits beside her, and Y/N forces herself to relax when she realises how close he is. She can smell his cologne now. It’s vanilla, intoxicating, and almost euphoric.

"It’s fine. I enjoy some new company once in a while. Jake is a great kid, but we do get tired of each other."

"He seems great. Isla really likes him."

"Isla’s really amazing. You’ve done a really great job with her."  At this, Harry looks proud.

"I appreciate that. Raising a kid alone has been a struggle, but we’ve managed this far. I can’t believe she’s going to be 18. So, I’m curious to know more about your thoughts on some classics.  I don’t know many people who take as much of an interest in books as I do. What are your favourites?

“I love this question. I've always been fascinated by the works of Russian authors. Dostoevsky, in particular, has this incredible ability to explore the depths of human psychology. 'Crime and Punishment' is a masterpiece in that regard.”

Harry nods, his gaze fixed on Y/N as if hanging on to her every word. 

"I couldn't agree more. Dostoevsky's exploration of guilt, morality, and the human condition is both thought-provoking and intense. 'The Brothers Karamazov' is another one of his works that left a profound impact on me.”

"And what about contemporary literature? Are there any recent books or authors that have caught your attention?”

Y/N pauses, considering her response, swirling what is left in her glass.

"Well, I've been quite taken by the works of Kazuo Ishiguro. His ability to craft emotionally resonant narratives is truly remarkable. 'Never Let Me Go' is a haunting exploration of identity and mortality."

Harry nods again in agreement. "Ishiguro's prose is beautifully understated, and his exploration of themes like memory and love is incredibly moving. 'The Remains of the Day' is another gem. I have a really great article on some of his work. What’s your number? I’ll send you the link.” He pulls out his phone and looks at her expectantly. 

Y/N rattles off the digits and her heart races when he phone dings on the table. She has his number. 

There’s silence for a moment as they both drink from their glasses. Y/N can tell they’re both well aware of the tension, but Harry is better at hiding how he’s affected compared to her. 

"Have you dated since Isla’s mother?" Y/N isn’t quite sure where the question comes from, but her wine glass is getting awfully low, and Harry’s presence is messing with her head. Every few seconds, her eyes wander to his lips, and Harry follows her gaze. They’re treading in dangerous waters, and they both know it, but for some reason, it’s even more exciting. Y/N shifts slightly on the couch, and her knee brushes his. Harry doesn’t flinch; he doesn’t move; he just keeps his leg where it is, maintaining the contact. She watches as he takes another sip of wine, his gaze fixed on her, his eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and desire.

"Dated is a strong term. I sleep with people when I feel the urge. I haven’t met anyone that I’ve wanted to start anything serious with. No one I wanted to… what is it your generation says? Wine and dine?" He raises his glass in Y/N’s direction, his eyes locked onto hers.

Y/N can't help but laugh at his playful tone, even as her heart races at the implications of his words.

"Yes, wine and dine. That's certainly an approach, Mr. Styles.” She hadn’t meant for the name to sound as suggestive as it did. Or maybe she did. He swallows thickly at the use of his last name, shifting in his seat. 

“Well maybe I just haven’t met the woman who’s made me want to change.”

“That’s a… possibility.” He’s slightly closer to her now and his scent is overwhelming her. Her gaze flicks from his eyes back down to his lips again and this time, he calls her out on it. 

“Do you need something Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“I asked if you needed something. You seem rather fascinated… is there something on my face?”

“Oh! No! There’s nothing on your face it’s fine.” “Just fine?” He teases and Y/N covers her face with her hands, her head spinning slightly from the alcohol. She looks up at him again, meeting his eyes and trapping her bottom lip between her teeth. He groans, almost inaudibly. 

“Stop looking at me like that Y/N or I’m going to think-” He trails off, before shaking his head and running a hand over his face. He stands, picking up his wine glass and moves towards the kitchen.

“Think what Harry?” Y/N follows him, standing in the doorway, forcing him to look at her. 

“I- I think I should be going. It was lovely to meet you and Jake finally, I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.” 

Y/N decides to play dumb. She is fully aware of what’s behind his sudden change of mood, and she knows he’s cautious. Wary. Normally she would be too, but the wine has made her bold and he’s captivating. 

"Harry," Y/N says softly, taking a step closer to him."Is everything okay?” 

Harry lets out a sigh, his shoulders slumping as he looks at her with a mixture of longing and frustration. "Y/N, you're making it really difficult for me to leave," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

“So don’t.” Her arms go up, around his neck and they’re close now. Close enough that Y/N can feel the warmth of his breath on her face. And then he’s leaning in. 

Their lips touch for the first time and it’s electric. Harry’s hands move up her body, tangling in her hair, pulling slightly and Y/N moans into his mouth. He quickly establishes dominance in the kiss, kissing her until she’s gasping for air. He walks with her, pushing her until her back is against the wall and he’s leaning into her. Harry pulls back for a moment to breathe and Y/N pulls him closer, wanting needing him in her orbit. He sinks into her touch for a second, two, three and then he’s pulling away from her, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Fuck.” He mutters, almost to himself and his internal turmoil is more than evident on his face.

“Harry? What’s wrong?”

“Y/N I’m almost twice your age. And this?” He gestures between them. “Can’t happen.” 

“Why not? You feel it don’t you? The pull? There’s something here.” Y/N steps closer and Harry lets her. 

“Of course I feel it Y/N and that’s why I know that whatever it is, we need to ignore. You’re young, and I’m well…”

“Just because I’m young, it doesn’t mean I’m immature Harry. As an adult, I’m telling you that whatever this is, I’m ok with it.”

“I can’t- I don’t… Y/N, I have to go.” 

Y/N stands there speechless as Harry pushes away from her. He grabs his jacket off the couch and moves towards the door. 

“Harry, let’s talk about this.”

“Thanks for dinner.” And then he’s gone, shutting the door behind him, leaving Y/N alone, incredible confused and slightly turned on. 

It’s been two weeks since Y/N saw Harry at dinner and it’s been about two minutes since she last thought about him. Well to be more precise, since she last thought about the feeling of his lips on hers. If she closes her eyes, she can picture it. The warmth of his touch, the way he pushed her up against the wall…

“Y/N? Are you even listening to me?” Jake waves a hand in front of his sisters face, noting that it’s the 3rd time that she’s zoned out during the conversation.

“Oh. Sorry. What were you saying?” Y/N forces herself to pay attention. 

“Isla said she’d text you but she wanted to know if you’d be cool with going over to their place to help her with an assignment for her literature class.” 

“Umm… is her dad going to be there?”

“Mr Styles?” Jake raises a quizzical brow. “I don’t know… why?”

“Uh, no reason. When does she want me to come over? I’m working most of this week except tomorrow.”

“I told her that, she said tomorrow was fine. Thanks for helping her Y/N she’ll appreciate it.”

“No worries Jake.” Y/N offered a small smile but internally, she couldn’t be more stressed. The thought of seeing Harry again, especially after he left in such a rush, made her incredibly nervous. Maybe he wouldn’t be there. Hopefully he wouldn’t be home. 

(4:09pm) Isla Styles: Hi Y/N! Jake told me you were happy to come over and help me tomorrow! Thank you so much! I should be home around 6pm, usually I work till 8 but I’ll ask to finish early. Dad shouldn’t be home so I’ll leave a key under the mat for you. Let yourself in at 6 if I’m not home yet and I’ll meet you there.

(4:34pm) Y/N: Hey Isla! No worries, happy to help. See you tomorrow :)

6pm rolls around and Y/N finds herself standing in front of the house… well mansion Isla had given her the address for. There are no cars in the driveway so Y/N assumes Isla is running late. But just in case, she knocks. And she waits. There’s no sound from inside the house so Y/N fumbles under the mat for the key and slides it in the lock. She’s aware she’s alone in the house but she still tiptoes inside quietly. The ceilings are high, and there is a large statement staircase in the middle of the entrance. Floor to ceiling windows are in excess and Y/N stands quietly in awe for a few moments. It’s modern, and clean and everything Y/N would want in a house. She finds the living room easily, deciding to set up the few things she brought to help Isla with her assignment on the dining table. 

(6:09pm) Isla Styles: I’m on my way! 15 minutes, I swear! Make yourself at home x

Y/N is opening her laptop when she hears a noise. A noise that sounds a lot like a moan. And then it happens again. It’s faint, muffled due to where she is in the house, so she moves from the dining table to the bottom of the staircase. 

“Fuck Harry. Right there, oh my GOD!” The woman’s voice is high pitched, her moans increasing in volume as Harry, from what Y/N can gather, fucks the shit out of her. 

“You like that baby? Gonna come for me? You feel so good. Fuck Y/N.”

Y/N stills at the sound of her name, not waiting to hear the other woman’s response before scrambling back to the kitchen. Did he just…? Surely not.

10 minutes passes and Y/N hears heels click clacking down the stairs. From where she sits, she gets a glimpse of a woman in a short blue dress, who lets herself out without another sound. 

At least they’re done, Y/N thinks to herself. 

She’s scrolling mindlessly on her phone, willing Isla to appear, when she hears footsteps. She didn’t hear the front door open again which means…

Harry appears in front of her, with only a pair of boxers on, making his way to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. He hasn’t noticed her yet and Y/N doesn’t really know how to handle it. But as usual, her mouth speaks before her brain catches up.

“Do you usually call the women you’re hooking up with my name? Or is that just a more recent thing?” 

He jumps, spilling a bit of water down his chest, as he realises who is sitting at his dining room table.

“Y/N what the fuck are you doing in my house?”

“Hello to you too. Isla wanted help with an assignment. She’s late, so she told me to let myself in. She also told me you wouldn’t be home. But obviously you are… and someone else is too it seems.” She smirks at how uncomfortable he seems as she makes her way over to him. 

“Isla isn’t home till after 8 on Saturdays.” Is all he can think of to say. 

“Mmm. You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m not discussing my sex life with you Y/N. I told you, nothing is going to happen between us.” But even so, he steps closer. 

“Ok, but if you’re calling other women my name, you must want it to. And I want it to. So that makes us two consenting adults. I don’t think I can stay away from you, Harry.” 

Harry’s eyes shut as he inhales the smell of Y/N’s perfume, the intoxicating scent taking him back to the night a few weeks before. This time Y/N is the one to lean in, attaching her lips to his. She’s mindful that he was fucking someone else just moments before but in the moment she can’t bring herself to care. She can feel the moment that Harry gives in, caging her in against the kitchen counter, devouring her mouth with his. Y/N runs her fingers down his chest, revelling in the chance she gets to touch and feel. His skin is smooth and his curls are soft. She finds the harder she pulls, the more insatiable he becomes. 

“Y/N? Are you here?” Isla’s voice rings out from the foyer and both Harry and Y/N freeze, pulling away from each other.  

“Get out of here… when she sees you without any fucking clothes on she’s going to ask questions.” Y/N pushes on his bare chest and Harry quickly moves up the back stairs up to his room, but not before pressing a small peck to her lips again. 

“I’m so sorry I’m a bit late! Are you ready to get started?” Isla chirps, completely oblivious as to what was happening just moments before. 

Y/N nods, and starts to show Isla some of the books she brought when her phone dings. Once, twice, then three times.

“Someone’s popular!” Isla jokes. Y/N offers her a small smile as she flips her phone over. 

(6:31pm) Harry: You’re right.

(6:31pm) Harry: I don’t think I can stay away from you either.

(6:31pm) Harry: Let me take you out for dinner. Let’s talk. 

Y/N glances nervously over at Isla, who seems engrossed in her reading material. 

(6:33pm) Y/N: Ok. We’ll talk.

A/N: Hi!!! Thank you for reading, I am SO excited for this series to begin. What do we think of our characters so far...? Reblogs and Feedback are always appreciated 💋

Tags:

@lukesaprince @harryspirate @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @lilyrmason12 @styleslover-1994 @stylesfever @kathb59 @indierockgirrl @bxbyysstuff @gills-lounge @lomlhstyles @opheliaofficial07 @behindmygreyeyes @gem1712 @stylesmoonlight12 @babyiamperfectforyou @velvetballaspark @harrys-flower @macy-tpwk @mema10 @intimacywithceline @jerseygirlinca @daphnesutton @rafaaoli

[lovesickforhim]

𝐂𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘.

DAY SIX OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: slasher au (still takes place in the tlou'verse) + sex in the woods or somewhere public (added bonus if it includes knife, blood, hunter x prey kink)

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, soft dark fic, horror, murder mystery

summary: bodies have been dropping left and right in the most brutal ways in jackson. as the relentless wave of deaths continues, your mind becomes increasingly restless. however, you find a sense of comfort and solace in the presence of joel. who might be hiding secrets of his own.

word count: 10k (i don't know what happened)

warnings: dubcon at the end, knife kink, descriptive canon typical violence, blood & mild gore, grief and death, an unpleasant guy hitting on you, murder, face-sitting, throat-fucking, mutual oral sex (69), dirty talk, possessive!joel, exhibitionism (tommy watches very briefly, he also kisses you in a platonic way), sex in the woods, piv, Joel is actually quite nice if you exclude the murders, mild breeding kink, size kink, little bit of blood kink

a/n: the owl mask joel wears in this to hide who he is is inspired by @softlyspector's post about the tawny owl mug joel uses in tlou part 2 which I still get sad if I think about it for too long 😭

Bodies have been dropping dead all around you long before the outbreak. 

Maybe not in the everyone-you-know-is-getting-infected-and-killing-people type of way, but more so in a death-never-felt-like-a-stranger-to-you sort of way. Yet, you still don’t know how to deal with death. Your grief is as violent as a butterfly flapping its wings; the strength of it non-existent but you never know where, or when, it’ll cause a storm. 

First, it was your grade school teacher. You didn’t have a particularly strong bond with her but you did like her. You still remember how your friend's voice quaked as she gave you the news on a landline. You couldn’t believe it and had to accuse her of making a joke, even though you knew she would never joke about something like this. Then your dad took the phone from you and you just assumed your friend's mom did the same. The next week, when you went back to school and the funeral was now behind all the children in the classroom, the custodian cut the last tablecloth your teacher had used for her desk and gave a piece to each and every one of you. It was a vibrant orange cloth with daisies scattered around – ugly, but you still cherished it.

Then it was your pets, grandparents – there was also the time when your pet-crazed neighbor adopted another smaller dog while she still had two untrained, over-energized dogs, and the two twins ripped the other dog apart. You had seen the carnage. By some miracle, that small, fluffy dog named Sugar was still breathing, alive. You had held a blood bag over the dog's head, hoping that the small animal wouldn't die.

She didn’t die that day, but it sure as hell left a scar on you. 

As a kid, you never seemed to quite grasp the ways of grieving. You didn’t get angry. You didn’t cry. You just. . thought about it. However, the emotions came differently when you became an adult. Now when someone close to you died, you felt it more violently, oddly enough you still fought against the tears and only cried when you were alone. 

On Outbreak Day, you lost everything. 

Your family, your friends—your life, now it was all about survival, but survival towards what, you didn’t know. You killed for it, fought for it. Yet every move you made felt automatic like you were wired to at least try and survive — to wait it out and not be left behind when civilization rebuilt itself once more.

You made some friends along the way and lost some friends too. You locked their faces and their memories in your heart, only unlocking the box when you were truly and utterly alone. 

Then you found Jackson. 

And you met Joel and Tommy Miller.

Your official title is scavenger but you much prefer to label yourself as an explorer instead. 

You’ve adapted to your quite well life at Jackson. You go beyond the borders, sometimes alone and sometimes with other fellow explorers, and gather supplies or try to pinpoint other locations threats might be lurking in. You’re about to go on another trip, this one shorter than your regular one to two-week expeditions, but before heading out you decide to stop by the only bakery in Jackson named The Last Crumb—previously named The Cordyceps Crumb but Maria decided it was in bad taste. You, on the other hand, had found it funny and topical. 

As you patiently wait in line, your camping bag waiting for you outside the bakery, someone bumps into you from behind, then never moves back. 

You turn with a raised eyebrow, not enjoying the close proximity, “Excuse you,” you snap. The man looks at you with a hint of mischief in his eyes, you roll your eyes when you recognize the face. “Move back a beat Tucker, I’m not in the mood this morning.” 

“Someone didn’t get her beauty sleep,” he grins but moves away regardless. “Want me to come with you this time? Sweet thing like you alone out there? It’s ain’t right.” 

“You can barely aim. Why would I want someone that’s most likely to get me killed around me?” 

“I think you’ll find my company to be plenty entertaining.” 

You’re about to gag when the bell of the bakery chimes, the sharp sound echoing through the wooden walls. Your face must've shown immense signs of relief because Tucker turns around to see who you're looking at. His instant frown makes you want to laugh and chuck him between the two men you’d describe as a wolf den. 

“Well, if it ain’t the Miller brothers,” Tucker tuts, attempting to give one of them a friendly pat on the shoulder. He stops midway when Joel’s gaze flits between you and him, his glare hard enough to cut diamonds. 

So he ends up slapping Tommy’s shoulder instead, which isn’t the best thing since you know the younger Miller hates Tucker. But among the brothers, he’s probably the one with less probability of getting your hand bitten off.

“Mornin’ Tucker,” Tommy answers, forcing a smile. 

Joel is less friendly, his words directed at you, “Is this dumbass botherin’ you again?” 

“I wouldn't exactly call a greeting among friends “botherin’,” Tucker says. “We’re just catchin’ up, no need to get your panties in a bunch Miller.” 

“God, you’re one word away from ruining my morning,” you hiss, glaring at the unpleasant man. “And we’re not friends.” 

His brows furrow, eyes going hard with an ugly snarl accompanying them, you feel braver when Tommy and Joel are around so you hold his gaze, not flinching away. 

Tommy is the one to ease the tension. He lays a hand on Tucker’s shoulder and squeezes, drawing the man’s attention away from you. “I’ll get you what you want a’right Tucker? It’s on me. Just go wait outside.” 

“But—” 

“Outside, Tuck,” Tommy repeats and you shudder at his tone. 

Tucker’s shoulders drop, defeated, “Fine, get me a raisin bagel.” 

He doesn’t wait for Tommy’s response and heads out the bakery. You finally release the breath you’ve been holding, your muscles relaxing along with the exhaled breath. Joel is by your side in the blink of an eye, his broad shoulder brushing yours providing comfort. 

“You sure you’re a’right?” he asks, gently curling fingers under your chin. “The prick didn’t do anythin’?” 

“Nah, nothing. He’s all bark but no bite. He asked if he wanted to join me today as if that buffoon wouldn’t get me killed.” you shrug, men being assholes was nothing new to you. You’re just glad that in Jackson it seems that there are more good apples than rotten ones.  “Too bad even paradise comes with drawbacks.” 

Joel snorts as Tommy cuts in, “Maria would be thrilled if she heard you calling it paradise.” 

“What are you smiling at? You think you can find anywhere better?” You playfully nudge Joel with your elbow. “You know there’s nothing but hell out there.” 

“I do, I just think callin’ here a paradise is a bit of a stretch is all.” 

The line moves and the three of you are finally at the counter, “You’re just a grump,” you tease Joel before turning your gaze to Poppy, the barista who knows everything about everyone. “Hey there, Poppy, the usual please.” 

“And a damn raisin bagel,” Tommy adds. 

“Well, isn’t it my favorite trio,” Poppy grins. “I’ll get all that ready for you in a second,” she locks her blue eyes on you and leans closer, you mimic her by instinct. “By the way have you heard of Ian? He wound up dead right outside the chopping block, an axe right through his chest.”  

You frown, “Good morning to you too, Poppy. Jesus Christ.” 

“I’ll confess I didn’t love the guy but isn’t it worrying that there’s a killer among us?” she murmurs while stuffing the goodies in paper bags. “Be careful out there.” 

“Well, if the culprit is here I think I might be safer out there,” you say and turn to Tommy. “Does Maria know?” 

“Of course, she does,” when you part your lips to say more, he lifts a finger and shoots you a crooked smile. “It’s confidential.” 

“Aw man, can’t you just tell us who she thinks it is?” Poppy asks, Tommy shakes his head and she lets out a dramatic sigh, “I miss my murder mystery books.” 

“I’ll try to find you something while I’m out,” you say, ignoring the way your heart began to race. Jackson is still a small town, it’s jarring to think someone might be out there, looking for their next target. “Though I think we could all do with a little less murder.” 

You hadn’t expected your voice to crack but your tone had betrayed you. Poppy extends you the bag of goods and a latte, as you reach out you feel Joel’s hand on your waist. His lips touch your ear. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’m sure whoever it is is only goin’ after those who deserve it.” 

You lock your eyes with him, blinking heavily at the weight of his words. His voice had dropped, nothing but gravel as he whispered the words into your ear. A cold sensation slithers down your spine, chilling you to your core and making your throat tighten. 

His hand never leaves your waist as the three of you head out, and after a while, that chill slowly dissolves into a pleasurable warmth. 

You find solace in the woods. You love Jackson, but being in the woods away from everyone and everything makes you feel comforted. The first time you went scavenging, there was a slight fear in your movements; no matter how good your aim was, any kind of infected was difficult to kill.

But now you walk with ease. There isn’t an ounce of worry in your bones. The trees rustle happily and the smell of flowers and pine fills your nostrils. You can feel your lungs rejuvenating with every breath. Trickles of orange sunlight pour from the gaps of the trees. The sun sets, meaning you need to set up camp soon. 

While unpacking, you think of this morning. How Joel and Tommy stepped in when Tucker started bothering you. Honestly, you didn’t need their protection; Tucker is just one of those men who think they might have a shot if they bother you enough times. Still, it was nice to be claimed in a way, to be accepted into a family and cared for.

Your breath hitches slightly. Tommy, you see as a close friend, a brother perhaps, but Joel... Joel is another thing. Just thinking about him is enough to start a wildfire between your legs. You wish you were brave enough to do something about it, though. Whenever you two patrol together or stay awake late at night drinking, you always chicken out in the end. It doesn’t matter how his hands linger on your thighs or his eyes drop to your lips; you're just never convinced that the Joel Miller would be interested in you beyond a friend.

An unease starts to settle in the pit of your stomach. As the air grows colder with the approaching night, your skin prickles and you feel the phantom sensation of claws dragging down your back. You set the tent as quickly as you can, your eyes darting around the depths of the forest. Briefly, you bend over to adjust the ropes. 

A breath warm and damp ghosts the back of your neck and you jump, gun in hand as you turn around only to find—

Nothing. 

And no one. 

Your heart is hammering in your chest, adrenaline pumping in your veins, a drop of sweat trickling down your forehead. You've never had a trigger finger, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to just shoot every shadow you see.

“Dammit Poppy,” you mutter, annoyed that she gave you the brutal knowledge of Ian’s death right before you were heading out. Guilt stings at your heart. Ian was an asshole for sure, and you don’t exactly feel bad that he’s gone, but still, it was an eerie thought that someone had murdered him so violently. It had to be personal. 

Some part of you wishes Joel was here, or even Tucker, just another human being to tell you you’re just seeing things. 

You take a deep inhale and follow it up with a long exhale. You’re fine. There’s no one here. 

You give your surroundings one last suspicious look before going back to setting the tent. 

No matter how hard you try you can’t shake the feeling of someone watching you amongst the shadows. 

Joel hears crickets and owls. The night had always been his friend since the outbreak. He had become a violent man with an equally violent heart. He waits in the shadows, watching. Laughter and playful shouts echo from the bar, and soon the door swings open; the man he's been waiting for crawls out of the establishment, shit-faced. The drunk man shouts his farewells and staggers toward his home.

Joel follows, his mask heating up the skin that lays underneath. His fingers itch with the need to wring that asshole's neck. One by one, he had been cleaning Jackson for the better. His tendencies subdued while also doing some good. Ian was one of those people who deserved it and Joel had enjoyed the chase, the pleas, he especially enjoyed the way he tripped and cried right before he sunk the blade of the axe through Ian’s chest. 

Tucker trips, making Joel want to laugh. The idiot might not even realize he’s being hunted. Joel looks around, they are far enough for the chase to begin. Tucker continues to slip and fall as he attempts to get up. Taking the opportunity, Joel walks towards him with quick steps, making sure the first thing the asshole sees is his mask. 

Tucker notices him before he gets up, his hands bracing the ground, his eyes go wide, “What the fuck?” 

Joel only tilts his head. He sees the trembles rolling down the other man’s body, he relishes in his fear. 

“Look man, I don’t want any trouble, whoever the fuck you are so. . . scram.” 

Joel’s eyes dart to his hand on the dirt, without a second thought he lifts his foot and curb stomps Tucker’s hand. Then he kicks the side of his face, an audible crunch echoing before his scream could. The man whimpers and falls back in his attempt to crawl away. He holds his jaw, blood streaming down his broken nose. 

“Who the fuck are you?!”  

He steps closer and watches as Tucker’s eyes bug out. He’s too drunk to properly run away or even scream. Such an easy target. He grips the other’s hair and lifts him to his feet, he can feel the strands starting to rip from his scalp one by one, Tucker’s face twisting in pain. “Your worst fuckin’ nightmare,” Joel answers eerily calm. It doesn’t matter if Tucker recognizes him. He’d be dead soon enough anyway. 

“P-Please,” he begs, realizing the same thing. “I’ll do whatever you want promise. I don’t want to die.” 

Joel grunts, not dignifying his pleas with an answer. Lifting his other hand, his knuckles connect to Tucker’s face with a loud crunch, body flying to the ground headfirst. 

He pulls out his knife and drops down, ignoring the ache in his knees, he grabs Tucker’s arm and aligns the sharp blade against his wrist. Tucker notices, his face going pale as a ghost. “D-Don’t—” 

Joel doesn’t bat an eye as blood spurts violently over his clothes and the dirt. Drops of crimson seeping into the fabric. The knife cuts through the flesh like butter, severing hand from bone. His hand clamps over Tucker’s mouth. Joel smiles as his screams bounce off of the palm of his hand. 

You come back to Jackson hand empty and earlier than intended. You were too much at unease, and being so jarred wasn’t the best while scavenging for supplies alone. During your trip, you did end up scribbling something for Poppy. It wasn’t finished but you hoped she would enjoy the first draft of the first chapter. It was mostly descriptions of what you felt, a cat-and-mouse game between two people who had bumped into each other accidentally. 

While heading into Jackson, you notice a crowd in the distance. You promptly get off your horse and walk with haste. You recognize Joel and Tommy easily, both brothers standing on each end of the crowd like gates keeping a herd of sheep in check. Ellie is standing right next to Joel, lifting herself on her toes to see; Joel is holding her back by gripping the cap of her hood.

“What’s going on?” you ask. 

Joel turns to you, his eyebrows raising when notices it’s you and not some random person he has to ignore, “You’re back,” he says. A statement rather than a question. 

“Yeah, wasn’t feeling that well,” you shrug him off. “So what happened?” 

His eyes turn to steel, his jaw locking in place. Before you can ask again, he gestures for you to move up the crowd with a tilt of his head.

“Lucky,” you hear Ellie murmur as you walk ahead, gently pushing those who were looking at the sight with concern. With every step you take, the murmur of the crowd fades into the background, becoming nothing more than white noise. Maria is addressing the crowd, you think, though you're not entirely sure. The scent of blood is thick in the air, disorienting you as you get closer.

Your eyes go wide, the earth slips from beneath you but your expression remains emotionless.  

It’s Tucker. 

You feel as if you’re standing alone. As if you’re the only one taking in the sight of absolute horror and gore. Tucker is lying in a pile of his own blood face first, his eyes are open and lifeless, his one hand is outstretched like he’s about to crawl away.

His right hand, however, is chopped off. 

It’s not even a clean-cut. The edges of his flesh are jagged and crooked, his blood-caked where his hand should be. Whoever did this cut it so it would hurt, so he would suffer tremendously. 

You can’t help but gasp, covering your mouth with your right hand. You begin to shake, confusion churning in your stomach as bile coats your tongue. He’s dead. Just like Ian. 

When Maria’s eyes find your own, she narrows her gaze, a small warning for you to keep it together. You can’t though. How could you? Tucker was alive and kicking a couple of days ago, just being his annoying self around Jackson. 

“Calm down,” you hear Joel mutter into your ear. You shiver at the brush of his lips. “It’s okay. You’re safe.” 

Safe. You want to laugh. You don’t even know what that word means anymore. 

Joel’s mouth moves over the shell of your ear, “He was a nuisance. Don’t feel bad now that he’s dead.” 

“I didn’t want him to die,” you hiss back. “And knowing there’s a serial killer out there doesn’t exactly make me feel safe.” 

Despite your half-angry tone, you find yourself leaning into Joel’s presence. Your shoulder presses into his broad chest, and without missing a beat he wraps his arms around your shaking frame. Relief comes in the form of warmth spreading along your chest, tingles forming at the tips of your fingers and toes. The voices of the crowd gradually come back but you only hear one of the many questions.

“What do you think the message means?” 

Confusion crosses your face, brows furrowing as you try to make sense of it. Joel makes a choked-out sound that could’ve easily been taken as an amused chuckle. 

Then your eyes drop to Tucker’s outstretched hand and his dying message written in blood. 

O W L 

A week had passed since Tucker’s death. 

You've been thinking about both murders relentlessly, trying to piece together everything that you know so far. During this time, you're grateful for Poppy, who comes by almost every night to help you try to solve the case. That's been your sole focus for the past few weeks; you haven't been scavenging since you spooked yourself so badly that you returned early, only to find Tucker dead.

Some part of you thinks that the eeriness you felt that day was a sign of what was about to happen. It's also an odd coincidence that he ended up dead the same night he harassed you in the morning. However, there are no forensic investigators in Jackson, so it’s almost impossible to determine the exact time of death. That fact alone makes you anxious. It only means that whoever is killing everyone has nothing to worry about because even if they leave traces, who’s going to know?

In order to keep your nerves in check you end up writing a lot. You haven’t shown any of it to Poppy yet but you’re excited. You never thought writing a thriller would be the perfect way to escape the horrors of your actual life. At least in your stories, you have control. 

You also visit Joel and vice versa. 

Something had shifted the day he held you as you both gazed upon Tucker’s lifeless body. Maybe it was just you who felt bolder since death was once again right around the corner — or maybe Joel just felt more protective now, wanting to check on you as much as he could.

“You’re really writin’ a whole ass novel?” he asks, pouring you a glass of scotch. You still can’t get over the fact that it nearly tasted identical to the actual stuff. Jackson is truly a miracle; at least when bodies aren’t dropping left and write. 

Ellie’s at a sleepover, which means you and Joel have the whole house to yourselves. With everything going on you’d expect your libido to diminish a bit but it’s as strong as ever, ready to go. 

You smile as he places the glass in front of you, “Yeah,” you say, picking up the glass and heading toward the living room. “I couldn’t find Poppy anything to read and it helps me relax.” 

“Relax, how?” he asks, taking a seat next to you. The couch dips with his weight, and heat crawls up from your chest to your neck when his knee brushes against yours. 

“Well, it’s a horror thing. Horror slash mystery? I don’t know—whatever it is, it’s nice to have an outlet to escape what’s been happening lately.” 

“So to escape brutal murders you write more brutal murders?” 

You chuckle at the way his eyebrows raise, eyes going wide, “I don’t really focus that much on the gore. It’s more psychological, my sweet brute. Things don’t need to have blood to be scary.” 

His grin is wide and instant, dark eyes lighting up with amusement, “What did you just call me?” 

“I. . .” Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, suddenly realizing what you’d said. 

“What cat got your tongue?” he teases. Joel leans closer, fingers dancing along the curve of your shoulder. You can feel the gravel in his voice. “You just called me yours, sweetheart. Does that jog your memory?” 

“I also called you brute,” you quip back immediately, cheeks aflame. “It doesn’t mean anything.” 

“Don’t it?” his palm now presses fully into your shoulder, keeping you in place in case you might run. Joel tilts his head slightly, the plush of his lips only an inch away. “I like you callin’ me that,” the pink of his tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “Say it again.”  

“S-Say what?” 

A small chuckle parts his lips, oddly enough it almost feels like his patience is wearing thin. He comes closer, the tip of his nose brushing yours. “That I’m yours,” he clarifies. “Been waitin’ to hear those words come from your mouth since I met you.” 

“You’re mine,” you whisper against his lips, eyelids fluttering but not quite closing. With the confession, you feel the brush of Joel’s lips on yours. His tongue traces the seam of your mouth. You part for him with a moan, and taking the opportunity, he slides inside, tasting every inch of you. 

His lips taste and feel like the forests you wander off to; it soothes you, calms your nerves, and has the taste of home. They’re chapped from the sun, yet soft. You can’t have enough of him, if he’d offered, you’d gladly kiss him forever. 

Joel parts with a shaky breath, his chest heaving, “And you’re mine,” he groans, his eyes dark with arousal. It’s an involuntary action but your eyes drop to the front of his pants where you see the thick outline of his cock. 

Your mouth goes dry, yet you manage to speak anyway, “Are words all you’ve been waiting for?” It’s bold, you’re highly aware, but you can’t help it when he’s this close. His scent suffocating, pulling you to him like a moth to a flame. 

He stares at you silently. His thumb touches your bottom lip, slightly tugging it down. He’s not smiling anymore, only observing. 

“No,” Joel answers slowly. He leans towards your ears, the thick hairs above his lips tickling your skin. “I’ve also been waitin’ to feel that velvet tongue on my cock, honey. And to feel how tight your throat gets when you take every inch of me.” 

Joel blows a puff of air, it caresses your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He brings your hand to the front of his pants, dragging your palm up and down his length. You shudder. The heat of it seeps into your palm despite the thick fabric of his jeans, you lick your lips absentmindedly. “This is all for you sweetheart.” 

“Fuck, Joel. . .” your eyes roll back when he kisses your neck, open-mouthed kisses laid upon your skin like a gift. Your nipples tighten and if you look down right now, you know you’ll see them peeking through your shirt. 

He reads your thoughts, eyes moving down before meeting your gaze again. “Didn’t know you walked around without a bra, sunshine.” 

“I only go braless when I’m comfortable,” you answer. Joel cups your breasts roughly, kneading the flesh, he simultaneously sucks on your neck, teeth nipping the sensitive skin. “Oh god,” the fabric of your panties grows damp and you clench your thighs together. 

“Not god,” he says sharply, sinking his teeth into you. “Joel.” 

“Joel,” you moan and arch your back, filling more of yourself into his palm. You squeeze his cock, relishing in the way he makes a strangled sound. “I want to suck you off, Joel.” 

“Be my guest.” 

You push him until he’s lying on the couch. You’re about to unbutton his jeans but he stops you. 

“Turn around,” he says. 

“What?” 

His wide grin nearly stops your heart, “Want to taste that sweet pussy, sunshine. Strip down and take a seat.” 

“On—On your face?” 

“Where else?” 

You’re too embarrassed to speak, tongue suddenly too big in your mouth. Quickly, and a bit clumsily, you strip down and turn before straddling his chest. You don’t need to touch yourself to know that you’re soaked. 

You swallow, “I’ve never done this before.” 

His hands come up to cradle your hips, urging you to move back towards his face. You feel the blunt sting of his nails. 

“That’s alright,” he mutters. “I won’t let you fall if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“I’m more worried about how I’m gonna move, or accidentally suffocating you.” 

“What a noble way it would be to go.” 

“Joel!” you laugh, playfully smacking his thigh. He answers by giving your hips another squeeze, you surrender and move back until you’re hovering over his face. Your hand planted firmly over his hip bones, you lower yourself. You shudder as his tongue licks a stripe between your folds. He moans into your cunt, pulling you flush against his face. 

Meanwhile, you finally unzip his pants and pull his cock out, the heft of it bumping against your nose and lips. You drip at the smell of him and swear he smiles as he sucks on your aching clit, short-circuiting your brain with arousal. His cock throbs in your palm, a drop of precome glistening at the tip. Your mouth watering, you lean forward and clean him off. Another groan echoes within his chest and he thrusts forward, the tip of his cock kissing your lips. 

Eyes fluttering closed, you suck on the bulbous head and force yourself to go down until he hits the back of your throat. You wrap a hand around the base, stroking where you can’t fit, and hallow your cheeks. 

“Come on, sunshine. You can take me,” he rasps. “You’re mine, aren’t you? That mouth is meant to take me.” 

Without waiting for an answer, Joel pushes his tongue inside, your walls clenching around the wet muscle—you let out a loud gasp and grind down, then you feel the sting of his palm against your ass, pain blossoming from where he smacked. 

Your throat rattles with a moan and Joel takes the opportunity to drive forward, your eyes go wide as you feel the length of him sliding down your throat, cutting the air from your lungs. 

“Oh, fuck—” he moans unabashedly, the sounds sending a pleasurable tingle down your spine despite the strain on your throat. “That’s it, sweetheart, just like that. Fuck, fuck—” 

Your throat tightens around him, your lungs starting to burn. His hand caresses both sides of your ass, the abrupt pain of the smack from before subduing, “Relax,” he says, swirling his tongue around your clit. “Breathe through your nose. Just a bit more. . .” 

Your nails bite into his thighs as you attempt to follow instructions. You relax your throat and slowly begin to breathe from your nose. It’s still difficult, but your lungs rejoice in the minimal amount of air that comes through. You make a mess of him. Saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth and down his length. 

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he murmurs. “Gonna fuck that pretty throat now and make this pussy come, understood?” 

Eyes tearing up, you nod. From the way your stomach convulses, you know that you’re close, your skin tight over your trembling muscles. The nod is all that Joel needs from you. Holding you in place, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself completely down your throat while flicking his tongue against your clit. You scream around him, eyes rolling back as he continues to devour you and take you apart at the same time. He licks you with fat strokes of his tongue, a hint of teeth scraping your folds here and there as he fucks your throat with shallow thrusts. 

You’re limp against his broad body, allowing him to use you as he pleases while all you can do is hang on for the ride. Pleasure licks the base of your spine, a searing heat caressing your skin while Joel continues to build you up only for you to fall spectacularly. Your lips start to ache, your throat squeezing around him whenever he snaps his hips forward— 

And all hell finally breaks loose. 

You come undone with a devastating cry only for it to be muffled by his cock going down your throat. You gush around his tongue, soaking his facial hair and mouth, Joel is underrated, licking and sucking until you’re shaking above him, every bit of tension draining from your body. 

Joel comes shortly after, his hand slides from your waist and he manages to reach out in order to hold your head down. You don’t have a choice but to swallow as he spills down your throat, thick spurts of come going down while he shudders and pushes even deeper. 

There’s so much of it, cock twitching and throbbing in your mouth until your mouth sucks him dry. You’re lightheaded from the lack of air; you find that it adds to the pleasure that’s buzzing in your veins, your cunt still pulsing with the heft of him still buried in your lips. 

He pulls out with a satisfied groan and you manage to scoot down so you’re straddling his chest instead of head. Joel caresses your back, the gentle repeated motion sending tingles down your spine. 

“That’s was fuckin’ amazin’,” he says, voice hoarse. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” you answer sounding meek. “I think I need some water though.” 

You get off, legs still shaking, but he grabs your hand, halting your movement. “Let me get it for you,” he says, sitting up. 

“I’m already up,” you smile as his brows furrow with worry, the expression warming your heart. You quickly bend down to kiss him and he’s quick to lick himself into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. “I’ll be right back.” 

You have no idea how you’re standing while feeling like jello but you manage to get yourself all the way to the fridge. You smile at the coolness touching your warmed skin when you open the door. Scanning the interior, you thoughtlessly rub at your throat in an attempt to soothe the ache a little. You grab the pitcher of cold water and notice a bit of apple pie left over. 

“Hey, Joel?” you call out. He hums in acknowledgment. “Can I have a slice of pie?” 

His humored chuckle follows through, “You can eat the whole damn thing after what you’ve done,” you smile and take the desert out. “Can you bring me a slice too?” he adds. 

You smile and place the pie on the counter. The leftover is already two slices give or take so you decide to just take two forks with you instead of dirting a plate. Looking through the drawers, you try to remember which one is the cutlery drawer. 

On your second try you find something else. 

Something that makes your eyes go wide and heart throb painfully. 

Your hands shaking, you pick up the owl mask from the drawer. The surface is smooth, and the color of it a light shade of brown just like a tawny owl. All the pleasant tingles fade away, the buzz of pleasure in your veins replaced by fear and adrenaline. 

Heading back to the living room, you show the mask to Joel. 

“What’s this?” you ask, your voice betraying your sudden outburst of fear. 

Joel looks up, eyes flitting between you and the owl mask. He raises a brow, his confusion evident across his face. “It’s a mask, sweetheart.” 

“No no, I know it’s a mask,” you answer, breathless. “But why do you have it?” 

“It’s Ellie’s,” he stands up, his pants still unbuttoned but pulled up. You fight the urge to step away, fight the urge to flinch when he touches your cheek. “They were makin’ Halloween masks last year in school. I didn’t even realize we still had it.” 

“Really?” you ask and he nods. 

“Really,” Joel claims your lips in a chaste kiss, thumb stroking lines up and down your cheek. His hand slithers down your arm to your wrist and when he squeezes, you drop the mask. “Why?” he breathes into you. “Is this about the damn thing Tucker wrote down?” 

You remain silent and he pulls away, dark eyes boring into yours. 

“You need to relax, sweetheart,” he mumbles. “Why don’t you just allow yourself to enjoy this? You deserve to be happy.” 

Your eyes widen with surprise, his words crashing into you, “I. . . Do I do that? Really?” 

“It’s normal, darlin’,” he answers. “I’m pretty sure we all have survivor’s guilt.” 

You let out a shaky exhale. He’s right. You were just feeling guilty of being alive when so many had died. Joel smiles back and traces the curve of yours with his fingers. “There’s that smile that I adore,” he guides you towards the kitchen. “Now let’s go eat some pie.” 

No matter what though, you can’t help but turn back to look at the owl mask one last time as it lays lifelessly on the floor. 

“So, tell me about this book you’re writin’?” 

You let out a low laugh, “I already told you about it. What more do you wanna know?” 

You stare at Joel’s back as he takes the lead, he’d decided to join you in your explorations ever since you told him how nervous you had gotten the last time. You had appreciated the gesture but still felt a tad anxious around him ever since you found that damn owl mask— 

A branch snaps into two under your steps and he turns, extending his hand to you. With a smile you allow him to lace his fingers within yours, your stomach jumping a little as he tugs you close so the two of you are walking side by side instead. 

“If memory serves me right we got distracted when you told me about it,” he says with that southern drawl of his. “So tell me again what it’s about.” 

“Okay okay,” you smile, squeezing his hand twice. “It’s all a big mess now but the premise is that there’s this guy obsessed with this woman and he stalks her and no matter what she does, she always feels like there’s someone watching.” 

Joel looks ahead, “Sounds familiar. Isn’t that how you felt last time you were out here?” 

“Yeah, and it’s when I started writing it.” 

“So do these two people know each other?” his tone drops, his fingers suddenly feeling like barbed wire within your hand. You swallow. “I mean in their regular lives, does the woman know that he’s the one stalkin’ her?” 

You roll your shoulders, a weak attempt to shrug off the eeriness that you feel. 

“Exactly. I think that just makes the whole thing creepier. He’s just a normal guy, even a friend, but he’s also the one among the shadows.” 

“Interestin’,” he murmurs. “You think that’s happenin’ to you?” 

“I don’t think there’s someone stalking me, if that’s what you’re asking,” you utter every word hastily, your pulse quickening under your skin. 

His lips curl in a half smile, “That’s good,” he says. “Wouldn’t want you to be laying awake thinking about what might lingerin’ on the other side of the window.” 

“I think I’m more likely to stay awake thinking about infected,” you say with a soft laugh. “But yeah, it’s all fiction. That day I probably just got scared because of what Poppy said about Ian.” 

“Probably,” Joel trails off, his steps slowing. “How do you think it’s gonna end?” 

“W-What?” 

He stops and so does your heart. At least you think it does. 

Joel faces you fully, his presence towering, he grips your shoulders and pushes you back until the air is knocked from your lungs by a tree right behind you. Your eyes go wide. He leans in, breath tickling your lips. 

“How do you think your book is gonna end, sweetheart?” he asks again, eyes gleaming with something dark. “Is the guy gonna get the girl?” 

“I—I don’t know.” 

All you can think about is the owl mask and how it would perfectly fit his face. He cocks his head and taking a step closer, he slips a leg between your thighs. Slick gathers at your underwear—he feels the fabric dampening on his leg and grins. 

“Fear turns you on doesn’t it?” he purrs. “Wicked thing.” 

Relief drowns your senses. So that’s why he got all weird suddenly, he’s just teasing you. With a laugh, your head falls back against the tree trunk, “Jesus Joel, you scared the shit out of me.” 

“It ain’t my fault,” he says, nipping at your chin. “You’re easy to scare.” 

“Well, two brutal unsolvable murders will do that to a girl.” 

Joel lets go and pulls away, smiling as he shakes his head, “What’s it gonna take for you to believe I had nothin’ to do with those? Even in death, Tucker causes nothin’ but fuckin’ trouble for me.” 

“You don’t need to do anything, I’m sorry,” you pull him back, relishing in the way his strong arms wrap around your frame. “I’ll stop being such a chicken, promise. I’m still a bit jittery that’s all.” 

“I forgive you,” he says against your lips, kissing you quickly before pulling you away from the thick trunk of the tree. “Now let’s find a place to settle down for the night.” 

When you two return to Jackson three days later, the first thing you notice is the crowd. Your stomach drops at the familiar sight and instinctively you reach out to Joel, lacing your fingers together. He squeezes your hand two times. 

The last thing you should be feeling is relief that now it’s not possible for Joel to be the one killing all those people but alas, that’s all you feel. Relief and love. 

The trade fair sprawls before you. Stalls with makeshift awnings, tattered banners, and worn tarps create a patchwork quilt of colors, beneath which a diverse array of goods is proudly displayed. The air is thick with the scent of freshly baked bread, the tang of cured leather, and the earthy aroma of herbs. Laughter, chatter, and the occasional clinking of metal form a lively symphony, a chorus of life that drowns out the ever-present background hum of death and infection.

You’ve always enjoyed the time of the trade fair. People move like busy ants, weaving between the stalls. Children, their cheeks dusted with earth, dart through the crowd, their carefree laughter that should be comforting doing the opposite. Since Tina’s death— she was one of the council members— you had been sleeping at Joel’s. Neither he nor Ellie seemed to mind you staying there. 

The purpose of the fair is to exchange goods – to exchange, to connect, to share stories of survival.

Your eyes scan the crowd for Joel's familiar silhouette. He and Ellie had headed out before you since you wanted a change of clothes. Just as your gaze begins to falter, a voice reaches your ears. "Hey!" It's Poppy, she waves you over.

You navigate your way through the bustling stalls until you stand before Poppy. She's leaning against a rough-hewn post, a glint of excitement in her eyes. 

“Hey, Poppy,” you greet her with a smile. “I’m looking for Joel, or Ellie, have you seen either of them?”

“Well, Ellie is with Dina, hanging out,” She points to the forest that skirts the settlement. "I saw him heading that way not too long ago."

“Alright, thanks. I’ll see you later then,” Waving her off, you head after Joel. 

The trees are a bit more scarce here, there’s more room between them. The forest opens up, revealing a sprawling expanse that stretches as far as the eye can see. It's a stark contrast to the dense woods you often travel to, where the trees stand like guardians, their branches interlocking in a tapestry of shadow and light. Here, the gaps between the trees create pockets of sunlight that dapple the forest floor. 

However, the expanses between trees can be deceiving, and without the markers and familiarity of the well-trodden paths closer to home, it's easy to lose your way. 

For some reason instead of calling out for Joel, you decide to wander aimlessly. You’re not sure why. You don’t come to this side of Jackson often enough to feel comfortable with your surroundings and shouting his name would definitely be easier than walking without aim. 

Soon enough you hear faint murmuring beckoning you deeper into the forest. 

Survival instincts kicking in, you slow down your steps, making sure to step onto clear dirt instead of gravel or fallen branches. Hiding behind a rather large tree trunk, you stare ahead. In the distance, you see two men: one with his back against the tree, while the other holds him by the neck, the sharp blade of his knife catching the sunlight and reflecting it directly into your eyes.

You hold your breath and your eyes go wide. You hear the thrum of your heart. It’s the killer. It has to be. 

You can’t quite hear them but you can decipher the tone of begging for one's life. The man holding the knife tilts his head slightly, your mouth waters at the prospect of finally seeing the murderer's face—

It’s the mask. 

The same mask you found in Joel’s home in the shape of an owl. Your stomach churns violently, bile raising to your throat as you watch on. You rub at your eyes, take deep breaths—anything you can think of that would erase the image before you. 

Goosebumps raising across your skin, you shake your head. It can’t be Joel. He was with you the day Tina died and no matter how competent he was not even he could be at two places at once. 

A muffled scream echoes within the forest and your eyes snap to the two men, the owl had driven his knife into the flesh and bone. He pulls it out, and the body falls. You recognize who it is; Jacob. You heard his name a couple of days ago from Ellie, he was bothering both her and Dina because they were hanging out. 

He’s still alive when the killer stomps his head in, blood splattering across the leys. 

You’re frozen in place. Your throat dry and tongue motionless. The killer kicks Jacob one last time for good measure and finally stops. You observe the way his shoulders drop as if a great weight had been lifted off of them, then he looks up into the sky, the golden sun highlighting his mask. 

Very slowly, he lifts his hand and takes it off. 

Every feeling comes rushing back, too fast and too soon. Your tongue is alive again and so is your body, the world is suddenly vibrant with life and horror. The sun continues to caress the countenance of the unmasked killer’s face, his sunkissed skin the perfect canvas to soak up the light. 

Joel. 

You take a step back, every thought of precaution dropping from your mind. The forest starts to spin. It spins and spins and spins until the ground slips from beneath your feet. You catch yourself at the very last second. 

When you look up you see his gaze staring directly into yours. 

“Fuck,” you hiss out, quickly staggering up. The last thing you see before you start running is his extended hand as he tries to reach out for you. 

“Wait!” 

You don’t. You do the exact opposite of that. You run. You run for your life and those in Jackson at the fair. 

You run with memories loud in your mind. How Joel had listened to you, comforted you, fucked you—

Tears sting your eyes. Every part of this feels like a nightmare that you hope to wake up from anytime soon. But as the wind hits your skin, you know that every part of this is very much real. Your chest burns from how fast you’re going, your legs starting to falter underneath you. 

Before you can react, an unexpected force slams into you. The impact sends shockwaves through your body as you collide with something—or is it someone?—their presence as jarring as the jolt itself. Your momentum falters, and for a fleeting moment, time seems to slow as you stumble, desperately trying to regain your balance.

Two arms grab at you and without even seeing who it is, you start to push the person away, fighting against it like a wild animal. 

“Let go of me! Let go of me!” 

“Hey hey hey,” you hear a familiar voice repeat. “It’s me, you’re okay,” you’re shaking all around, only when you feel his hands cradle your cheeks do you open your eyes. He smiles when he sees your eyes flicker in recognition. 

“Tommy?” you whisper. He nods and without a thought you jump him, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him close. His arms coil around you in response, promising to not let go. “Oh, thank fuck it’s you.” 

“What happened? Are you alright?” 

“I—I am okay but—Joel—It’s Joel, Tommy he’s been the one behind all those murders. We need to warn everyone, we need to tell Maria!” 

You grab his arm and tug him along toward what you assume is the right way out of the forest. He remains still. Turning around, you shoot him a confused glance. 'Tommy, we need to tell people.'

“Can’t let you do that sugar, sorry.” 

“Why. . . Why not?” you let go and slowly step back, heart pounding. “Is it because he’s your brother?” 

You wish that was his excuse. Some moral obligation towards Joel because he’s his brother, that you can relate to. Your heart still pounds for Joel and in your brain, you’re still desperately seeking an explanation. 

But Tommy allows the silence to linger, your fear and worry quickly turning into anger. 

“Fine, I’ll tell them. It’s wrong.” 

It only takes a blink of an eye; you feel Tommy’s iron grip around your wrist, yanking you back into his chest. He holds you. Oddly tender for someone who had made your arm nearly fall out of its socket. You thrash within his arms, pulling and hitting his chest. 

“We’re doing good,” he grunts. “You gotta see that.” 

You refuse to listen, your ear narrowing on the sound of your own blood rush instead of his words. By some miracle, you manage to slip your arm out and punch him square in the chin. It was a weak punch but strong enough to startle Tommy. 

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart, calm the fuck down—” he tucks your arm back against your body and turns you around so your back is flush against his chest. You’re breathing raggedly, chest rising with every deep gulp of air. His lips touch your ear, his tone menacing, “I really wish you would’ve not done that.” 

“Why?” you gasp. “You’re gonna kill me too?” 

Silence follows, and with every passing moment sweat beads on your forehead, “It was you wasn’t it?” you continue. “You killed Tina. Joel only came along with me to calm my suspicions.” 

Before Tommy can confirm your suspicions, you notice movement within the forest and your eyes are immediately drawn to the shadow coming forth.  

“Smart girl,” Joel remarks with a half smile as he emerges from between the trees. There’s a splatter of red over his shirt but the knife seems to be tucked away. For now. “But you’re only half right, darlin’. I came along because I like spendin’ time with you.” 

“Is that supposed to make me ignore the fact that Jacob’s body isn’t even cold yet?” 

Joel curls two fingers under your chin, lifting your gaze while Tommy continues to hold you back. You shudder against him, a soft sound parts the younger Miller’s lips. 

“He was a piece of shit,” Joel grunts. “He was botherin’ Ellie, callin’ her names, he deserved what he was gettin’.” 

“So what, you guys are just playing hero? Killing everyone who’s causing trouble in town? There’s a system for that.” 

“Honey,” he tuts, an involuntary warmth spreading within your abdomen. “The system didn’t work before the outbreak, it ain’t gonna work now either.” 

“We protect our own,” Tommy says from behind you, breath fanning your neck. “We take care of it before it escalates. You have to understand that.” 

“And why the hell would I understand?” you hiss, looking directly into Joel’s eyes while addressing Tommy. 

Joel smiles, his lips curling slowly, “Because you’re one of us. And you like it when we protect.” 

Your lips part with an exhale. He’s right, not that you still agree with them killing people, but you had enjoyed that primal protection coming from the Millers. It made you feel powerful, loved, cared for. All the things you craved deeply. 

You ignore Joel and his words entirely, averting your eyes with embarrassment and shame. 

“I just don’t understand why you did it, Tommy” you murmur. Tommy tenses behind you, his arms tightening around your frame, drawing the remaining oxygen from your lungs. “I understand the other’s to an extent but Tina didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Joel looks towards Tommy, it was his kill after all and the older Miller had nothing to say about it. 

“She was wrecking what Maria is tryin’ so hard to build,” he answers. “She’s pregnant, stress ain’t good for her or the baby.” 

“Does. . . Does Maria—” 

Tommy cuts you off, “No.” 

Joel leans closer, mouth an inch away from yours as he parts his lips. “I killed for you,” You hate the way your body reacts to him, wanting to close the distance between you two despite how unsettled you feel. “Ian was a piece of shit, so was Tucker and Jacob. They don’t deserve your empathy, honey. And you can’t deny that you’re glad they’re gone.” 

His hair is a delightful mess. Soft locks going in every direction. All you want to do is thread your fingers within and forget about all of this. Joel’s gaze is observant, dark eyes darting all over your face. You don’t know what he sees but whatever it is, he nods to Tommy for him to let you go and he does. Legs lifeless and shaking, he catches you, his warmth welcoming. He’s still tender with you. Hands delicate as they move over your arms, shifting you so you'll be facing Tommy.

Joel’s hand curls around your neck and holds your chin so you can’t look away. You can’t read Tommy’s expression. You’re not sure what he’s feeling. However, you think he looks almost relieved that you’re not fighting anymore. 

You shudder as Joel drags his lips down your neck, taking deep breaths of your fear-induced scent. His hands slip under your shirt and cup both breaths, making you squeal. Your objection is short-lived when he brushes his thumbs over both nipples, awakening them with slow strokes. 

Tommy’s gaze drops to your chest. 

“He’s been watching you, you know,” Joel says. “When I had things to settle in town it was him who looked after you,” his voice drops, eyes observing his brother. “I think he deserves a bit of a show, don’t you think?” 

The whimper you let out is enough for Tommy to meet your gaze curiously. Joel smiles into your skin and your eyes widen as he pulls out a knife—a different one from the one he used on Jacob, you realize with relief. 

Your breath hitches as he slides the knife under your shirt and cuts your shirt clean from the middle, exposing you completely to his younger brother’s eyes. Sudden arousal pools between your legs and you clamp them together suddenly, the movement not unnoticed by either of them. 

“You like it when my brother watches?” he asks loud enough for Tommy to hear. “You got a little crush on him too, sweetheart, hmm? Don’t worry, he’s always goin’ to be lookin’ out for you. That’s what family does after all.” 

Your neck strains as Joel tilts your head suddenly, claiming your lips in a violent kiss. He doesn’t wait for you to part your lips for him and pushes his tongue into your mouth, licking the surprised sounds of pleasure right from your mouth. Your heart skips a beat. He presses the flat side of the knife against your warmed skin, the chill of metal settling in your bones. 

When he parts away, a string of saliva connects you still. “You’re mine aren’t you?” Joel groans, lips moving over yours. 

You nod in a daze and he smiles, “And I’m yours too,” he says. 

Your eyes meet Tommy momentarily, the younger Miller’s lips twitch in a half smile. He doesn’t say a word as he closes the distance. 

Tommy cradles your face tenderly,  urging you to come close as he envelopes your lips with his own, taking you by surprise. 

The kiss lacks the intensity compared to Joel’s. Tommy caresses your cheeks with both thumbs. You don’t even feel his tongue, it’s just a gradual movement of lips, a type of affirmation and comfort. 

“You’re one of us now,” he says pressing his forehead against yours. You don’t know how to react or what to say and you end up just nodding, your hands fisting his shirt. Him, parting away from you almost feels painful but you’re not sure why. Tommy gives you a smile and Joel a nod before he leaves. 

You and Joel stand like that for a while, in complete silence, bodies flushed together, knife still resting over your stomach. 

“I only did what was right,” he breaks the silence. His tone isn’t one of asking for forgiveness or understanding. His arms tighten around you. “Are you afraid of me?” he whispers into your ear, the thick hairs above his lips tickling the shell of your ear. 

You don’t answer him. 

“You don’t need to be,” he continues. He allows you to move within his arms, you want to see his face, you need to see him to not fear for your life. You ignore the knife grazing your skin as you turn around, your bare front snug against his chest. “I’ll never hurt you. And you’re the only person in this whole damn town that can say that. You and Ellie.” 

“What about Tommy?” 

“Tommy’s priorities lay elsewhere.” 

He doesn’t allow you to inquire further about what he means by that. All you can detect is a hint of anger that quickly dissipates when he claims your lips once more. 

You’re lost in him. His tongue captures you in a way that makes you forget the blood on his clothes—on his hands. His tongue slides against your own, pressing until you’re moaning into his mouth, your knees faltering at the knife smoothing down your skin. 

Before pushing you down to the ground, he takes off the shirt he cut in half completely off of you, your bra following the pile on the grass. Your breath hitches as he takes his place between your legs, his mouth devouring your neck, “Joel. . .” you moan, fisting his shirt and grinding up to feel at least a bit of friction. 

A silent laugh seeps into your skin, his breath sending shivers up your spine, “Do you still feel bad for them?” he teases, laying a wet kiss between your breasts. 

You don’t think much as you answer, “No.” 

And as a reward, Joel closes his lips over a nipple, sucking hard until your breathing goes ragged. 

“That’s my girl,” he groans, moving towards the other pebbled flesh. “You’re too good, too kind, but they don’t deserve that sweetheart.” 

He hooks his fingers into your belt loops and tugs down your jeans, laving you with soft, ticklish kisses as he moves lower and lower. When you’re completely bare to him, you have the urge to cover yourself, the grass tickles your back and the wind feels colder now. Joel smiles and pulls your arms away. He lays the knife right above your stomach and your breath hitches. 

“I want to taste you,” Joel says. “But not in the way you think, darlin’,” he kisses the sensitive skin right adobe your belly button, and brings the sharp edge of the knife to your skin. “I want to taste the life that pumps through your veins.” 

Your eyes widen as he nicks you. It’s a small cut and blood beads at the wound instantly. He doesn’t allow it to gather enough so that’ll trickle down, he quickly presses his lips against it, your essence coating his tongue as he gives it a tender suck. You can the blood leaving your veins, a pleasant tingle echoing from the wound and spreading throughout your body. Your eyes flutter, a moan escaping your lips as he flattens his tongue against the cut and licks with board strokes. 

“Fuckin’ delicious,” he rasps, pushing two fingers into you with ease. You gasp at the sudden stretch, your back arching into his touch. “So darn wet—All this for me, sunshine?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, grinding down. “Joel, please—” 

You hear the sound of his belt buckle coming undone, his breath heavy in your ear, “Since you asked so nicely, sweetheart, I’m obliged.” 

You feel the head of his cock brush against your entrance, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Your eyes close in anticipation and you whimper as he slowly slides inside you inch by inch. You can feel it, that intense fullness that can only come from him, taking his time to make sure it feels good. His size is intimidating but you feel yourself melting around him, eager and willing. 

“That’s it. . . you’re takin’ me so well, such a tight little hole for me. Fuckin’ amazin’.” 

He presses his forehead against yours, nipping at your bottom lip before thrusting, sending a wave of pleasure that makes your toes curl. You cling onto him for support as he pumps deeper and faster, hitting all the right spots. It takes neither of you long to climb the edge, ready to fall. You can feel the warmth of his breath, and his grip tightens on your hips. His pace quickens as the intensity builds, and you clench around him as he groans your name. 

“Gonna come inside,” he slurs his words. “Gonna fill you up—shit—” 

You can feel him throbbing and pulsing inside of you, his hard length contracting. As he pushes deeper into you, your insides flutter, squeezing around him. Your orgasm is ripped from you, shattering and mind-numbing. Your head spins and you cling to him, afraid that the world underneath you might slip entirely. His hot come warms you from the inside out, spilling from where his cock stretches you. 

Joel remains inside until he starts to soften. He pulls out of you, leaving you feeling a longing ache deep within your core. You shudder as his come trickles down your thighs, your cunt clenching around nothing. 

“Such a pretty sight,” he murmurs, entranced, as he gathers himself over his fingers and pushes it back inside you. “Try to keep as much as you can inside.” To emphasize his want for it, he slides your underwear up your legs. 

You’re tied to him now. And even though you shouldn’t, you enjoy being the one near the beast. Joel helps you dress, at least helps you with what remains, and gives you his leather jacket to wear since your shirt is in ruins. Neither of you says a word as you walk back to where Jacob’s body rests. You help him bury the body, not feeling a single thing; no grief, no remorse, no sadness. 

You always did have a complicated relationship with death after all. 

[lovesickforhim]

Left in Lincoln - Master List (ongoing)

softdark dads' best friend!Joel x virgin f!Reader

mood board by @gracieispunk 🍑

official playlist 🍑 reader curated PREMISE: After you were orphaned by the outbreak, Bill and Frank raised you, sheltered in their closed community. Now 21+, you're still inexperienced. They leave to get treatment for Frank and ask Joel to look in on you while they're gone. The town begins to creep you out, but Joel is glad to provide comfort and protection. WARNINGS: I8+. Joel is quite dark and toxic but acts sweet with reader. Big, girthy age gap. Angst. Loss of virginity. Slow-burn horror: no gore or explicit violence, no violence toward reader, but BOLO for chapter warnings. NO USE OF Y/N.

Floorplan

Part 1 - This Protector (3k) - He lowered his voice and said, "Feelin' this against you, knowin' it's there." His hips lifted gently, and it swelled harder against you. "It's s'posed to feel good. Nothin' to be ashamed of"

Part 2 - The Dirty Ground (5k) - “Ever had an orgasm, darlin'?” He slowed his hips to talk. . . . “Only in my sleep," you said.” Good, that’s your body takin’ care of you. It’s good for you. . .Gonna take this belt off, k?”

Part 3 - The Cold, Cold Night (7k) - He looked from your eyes to your mouth and back then murmured, "Nap really all ya want?" "Just wanna be with you," you answered quietly.  His deep voice became nearly a whisper. "Love hearin' that, baby."

Part 4 - Apple Blossom (7.5k) - “Gonna take time ‘fore you’re ready for this,” he said with a roll of his hips. . . You asked, “You want it too, don’t you?” “Course I do, baby,” he panted. “Gotta feel good for both of us, though. Gotta do it right.”

Part 5 - Black Math (8.6k) - “God, if you only knew . . .” There wasn't even a hint of shame in his voice. “We’re almost there, I promise.” He tucked in his shirt and adjusted himself while he was at it. “God damn,” he exhaled.  “Turns me on, thinkin’ about it.” 

Part 6 - As Ugly as He Seems (8.4k) - You would've given anything for Joel to wake up and ravage you. “s’what I mean, baby,” he murmured sleepily into your hair. "Can't trust myself." He groaned softly as his palm brought you tighter against him.  You began to reach behind you, but he intercepted your hand. . .

Part 7 - Forever for her (10k) - You looked at his clothes and didn't say anything, but he replied to your silent question with a smile and hushed voice. "no, I don't have to be so dressed..."

There will be a part 8

-----

Art, etc.

HOT 🥵 fan art by @bonezone44

Ch 1 mood board by @neverwheremoonchild

Ch 1-6 mood board by @gracieispunk

Collage by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Chapter-specific posters

If yours is missing PLEASE let me know I probably tagged improperly & couldn't find.

[lovesickforhim]

Liar | bfd!harry

Summary: Harry's wife suspects something is going on but she doesn't know what. Harry can't stay away from you and you don't want him to.

Word Count: 6.1k

Warning: 18+ only, smut, lying, cheating, age gap, angst

bfd!harry masterlist

Harry’s phone kept lighting up from its spot on your bedroom floor. It slid out of his pocket in his haste to take his pants off and get you into your bed. You hadn’t even bothered to turn the lights on before you were spread out and naked under him.

You also hadn’t even made your bed that day. Normally you at least pulled the blankets up and placed the pillows at the headboard but it felt like such a daunting task before your date with Evan that you just didn’t bother.

But you didn’t want to think about Evan when you were with Harry after he’d just admitted he loved you.

Harry fingered you slowly as he kept his mouth over yours, “Just wanna keep kissing you. Never want to stop,” he whispered his words into your mouth as he thrusted his thick fingers into you.

And he didn’t stop kissing you. Not when you came on his fingers. Not when he wiped your arousal onto your leg as he positioned himself between your soft thighs. Not when he pushed his dick inside of you. Not when he brought you and himself to orgasm slowly.

His lips were soft but urgent. You came so hard when he glued his hips to yours and rocked into you, never letting his cock slip out too far.

And when he pulled you onto his chest after he landed on his back, he rubbed your spine and kissed your shoulder and your neck, “Never gonna be so careless with you again. Promise you.”

You always loved basking in the afterglow with Harry but this time was different. He had told you he loved you. You both felt it with each movement and each breath. Harry’s hands held your thighs as he pushed in and in and in and it was all love and emotion. He was showing you what he could with his body and you were happy to receive it.

You both fell asleep with smiles on your faces and you woke up hot and sticky on top of him. He was holding you tight. You attempted to move yourself off of him but he only tightened his grip. You heard him grunt, “Stay.”

And that turned into you slipping down onto his hard cock once again, whispering I love yous to one another as your chest stayed pressed to his. The soft rocking of your hips over his with his hands on your ass guiding you over him slowly. The springs in your mattress squeaked gently as his phone illuminated. But it didn’t stop you. It didn’t stop him.

You both kept at it. Until you’d come to your end again. You gasped his name and he groaned, spilling himself into you as deep as he could, lifting his hips and slicking in until it was impossible to reach further into you.

Even on the comedown, his phone lit up.

You both knew it was Mrs. Styles wondering where her husband was. It was nearly 2 am by then. He’d left his house hours ago and hadn’t returned.

“You should text her back so she’s not worried, Harry. At least,” you spoke quietly as you ran your fingers into his hair, scratching at his scalp. He was still inside of you.

He sighed and grumbled something before lifting you off of him, “I know. I’m just not sure what I’m gonna tell her. I meant to go back home hours ago. It’s late. This is not something I’ve ever done before.”

Obviously. You wanted to say but refrained as you watched Harry get off the bed and bend down to pick up his cell phone. Multiple missed calls and texts.

He sat down on the bed and smoothed his hand up your thigh, “I should probably go. I’ll figure something out to tell her. I’m sorry, pup.”

You sat up and leaned yourself into him, kissing his chest and feeling his come dribble down your thigh as you moved, “It’s okay. I understand.”

.           .           .

Harry was in trouble. He knew it when he woke up in your apartment and realized how late it was. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep but having you in his arms, post orgasm was like a drug that put him under. And throwing caution to the wind he stupidly fucked you again, wasting nearly 25 minutes more, instead of leaving.

He also knew he was in trouble when he pulled into his driveway and saw the lights on coming from his study.

He didn’t have anything in his study that would give him away. Some receipts maybe, but nothing major. And he’d hidden the receipts for anything he bought you very well. He hoped.

The moment the door was closed and the deadbolt latched his wife came quickly out of his study to confront him.

“Where have you been? I’ve been worried! Do you not have your phone on you?!”

Harry rubbed his face and realized he could still smell you on his hand. He’d cleaned up but, in his rush, he clearly hadn’t gotten all the traces of you off.

“I just had a bad week, at work, and I needed some air and went to the park near the lake and… I fell asleep in the car. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

And the look on Mrs. Styles’ face told him she didn’t believe him. He was definitely in trouble.

Why would she believe him? It was a terrible lie. Harry really didn’t know what he could tell her. He felt of all the excuses he could come up with (during the 20-minute drive home), the one he decided to go with, while quite outlandish and not particularly believable, was the most believable of them all.

“We’ll talk about this in the morning before you leave for your workout. I’ve put some pillows and blankets on the couch in your study. You can sleep in there tonight.” She turned before pausing and looking over her shoulder at her husband, “I’m glad you’re okay, though.”

Harry felt awful. He hated making his wife worry or having her upset with him. But he deserved her anger.

He’d just been so out of his mind wondering what you were doing on your date he couldn’t see or think straight. He left the house in a rush. He told his wife he was running out and would be back soon. And he intended on returning after a couple of hours at the most. But he’d left around 8 pm and had been gone for over six hours.

And even as guilty and bad as he felt, he slept rather soundly on his couch in his study. Perhaps it was that you’d forgiven him. Or the two orgasms. Both probably.

When he woke up to his phone alarm he smelled coffee already. He knew he was going to need to give her a better explanation. But what could he say? What things could he tell her that would quell her questions? Mrs. Styles was smart. She was no pushover. He couldn’t just act as if whatever happened was no big deal. Not responding to her in all those hours? That was a big red flag.

“How’d you sleep?” His wife was sat at their small dine-in kitchen table sipping her coffee. She was already dressed and ready for the day.

“Pretty good. Was tired. How about you?” He poured himself a mug of coffee and joined her at the table.

“Like shit.” She looked down at her mug and sighed, “You lied to me last night,” She looked back into his eyes. “And that makes me wonder how many other times you’ve lied and I’ve just not noticed it.”

His stomach felt sour. She knew he lied. Of course, his excuse was shit.

Nodding his head he stayed quiet. He didn’t know what to say. Of course, if she knew what he’d really been up to their conversation would be going in a very different direction.

“Say something. Tell me what you were doing, Harry.  I deserve to know the truth.”

Inhaling a deep sigh he leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table, “I’m sorry. I’ve just been… I don’t know. Maybe I’m going through a mid-life crisis or something. I’m anxious and depressed and it feels like there’s no way out of how I feel–“

His sentence was cut off by her palm coming down sharply on the table and causing his mug to rattle, splashing the hot liquid over the lip of the cup, “Cut the shit! So what? We’re all anxious and depressed Harry!” She stood up and put her hands on her hips as she walked toward the sink and her shoulders dropped before gripping the counter’s edge, “Why didn’t you at least reach out to me? Were you with someone?”

Harry felt he was being choked of air. Was he with someone? Why yes, he was. Someone that he loves in a way he shouldn’t. Someone that he was having sex with while his wife’s calls and texts were being ignored. He felt like he was losing it.

“No. I just needed to be by myself. And I’m sorry I did it that way. I didn’t…” he inhaled to catch his breath, “think. I didn’t think. I wasn’t thinking about you or how you must have felt. I’m sorry. That was selfish.” At least the last part of his excuse wasn’t a lie.

Mrs. Styles turned back to look at her husband as she crossed her arms over her pretty silk shirt, “I know you didn’t think. And I know that I never crossed your mind last night, whatever it is you were doing, you certainly didn’t consider me at all.”

He looked at his wife and blinked his eyes as she stayed cool and steady. She hadn’t been crying. Or at least it didn’t appear that way.

“And I know you’re lying. I can’t explain how I know… I just… I’ve been with you for such a long time that I just know, Harry. And,” she pushed herself from the counter and walked across the kitchen to the hutch where she picked up her keys, “I found a sex toy in a box in your study last night. Care to tell me what that’s for?”

He forgot about that. The toy he bought for you. Forgot that he’d brought it back with him. He’d put it out of his mind, “It was for us. I… we haven’t used a toy in a long time and thought it would be fun–“

Her laugh cut him, “Of course, you’d say that. And how would I know if you were being honest at this point? Just return it. I’ve no intention of letting you use that on me. Not after all this.”

“Hey… I know that you don’t belie–“

“You’re right. I don’t believe you. Not right now. I’m leaving to go stay with my sister for a while. I think if you really feel like you need space, I’ll happily give it to you because I don’t want to be around you when you’re acting like this.” She paused and looked over her husband with his messy bedhead and shook her head, hating how handsome he was, “Just…” she flailed her arms, “get this out of your system. Whatever it is. And if I find out you’re cheating on me,” she laughed darkly, not a hint of humor, “God, I can’t even think about that right now.”

Harry nodded and stood from his chair but did not move from his spot at the table. He wanted to hug her and hold her and tell her everything. The whole truth. Ask for her to be lenient on him. Beg for her to go easy. Explain that he didn’t mean to fall in love with someone else. Tell her he’d give her anything she wanted. But to just give him grace.

But he did none of that. Like the coward he was starting to realize he was, he stood there and watched as his wife plucked up her suitcase and her purse and walked out the front door.

.           .           .

Your shift was grueling. It was Sunday brunch. The restaurant was packed. Reservations were always made well in advance. No one could just walk in and get a seat. But the nice thing about that was that you knew pretty much what to expect when you arrived and looked at the schedule and saw your tables and how many you’d be serving. Some even had pre-ordered certain things to make it even easier. Though the breakfast and brunch hours were the hardest.

When your new table came in at 1:00 pm you stopped in your tracks as you realized who was at the table. And instead of putting on a fake smile and calming yourself down you turned and walked back into the kitchen. You needed to take a moment to really collect yourself.

Mrs. Styles was there at your table, with three other women. She was dressed in a lovely lavender silk shirt with black twill pants. After what had happened just the night before, well, technically that very morning, you were sure Mrs. Styles wouldn’t be in a great mood. Her husband had avoided her for hours and hadn’t told her where he was. And as her husband was coming inside of you, giving you your third orgasm of the night, she was blowing up his phone that was lying on your bedroom floor.

When you’d gathered yourself as much as was possible you stepped out into the dining room and feigned surprise, “Hi! Oh, it’s so nice to see you, Mrs. Styles,” you greeted warmly. There was no way she’d ever assume you had anything to do with Harry’s being gone for hours the night before. You tried to keep that at the forefront of your mind as you smiled at the small group at the table.

“Y/n! I forgot you worked here! Wow, what a surprise!” Mrs. Styles turned to look at the other women at the table, “Ladies this is Fae’s best friend. Such a sweet and smart girl. Looks like we got the best waitress here. I guess my day’s already looking better,” she laughed, and the other women smiled and laughed with her.

Her comment was like a surgical slice into your heart. You swallowed thickly and nodded, “Yeah. I’m so lucky to be serving you today. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

After their orders were placed, a round of bottomless mimosas for each, you’d calmed from your initial surprise of seeing her. Everything seemed rather normal. Perhaps she wasn’t worried about Harry being home so late. You wondered what lie he told her. What kind of excuse he had.

But after Mrs. Styles ordered her fourth mimosa you realized things weren’t normal at all. The champagne had her spilling some details within your earshot. She was just loud enough that you could hear bits and pieces of what she was telling the other women she was with.

“And he didn’t even try and correct me when I mentioned cheating. Just stood there with his mouth wide open,” one of the women had her hand on Mrs. Styles’ shoulder, rubbing gently.

Through the breakfast you heard comments from the other women, words of advice, bits of encouragement, “Maybe he is just going through a mid-life crisis like he said. Marvin went through a phase last year. Would spend hours in the garage away from the family…”

You stood at the table and smiled as the woman finished her anecdotal story until eyes were on you, “Anything else ladies? More mimosas? Pan de chocolate?”

They’d been there for close to three hours by the time they finally decided to get the check. Mrs. Styles was a tiny bit tipsy as they left the restaurant and you learned that she was staying with her sister, one of the women who was with her at the table.

Now you were dying to know what had happened between her and Harry. She was clearly not doing well knowing that Harry had been gone all night. Understandably.

When your shift was over you got into your car and checked your messages. Normally you had a text from Mr. Styles. At least a good morning text but there was nothing.

Hi. How did everything go last night? Just got off work.

You drove to your apartment with your head in the clouds, made-up images of Harry and his wife fighting about him being gone all night. Harry being devasted when she left him to stay with her sister. Harry begging her to come back.

By the time you pulled your emergency break up in your car and shut your engine off your mood was lower than it had been all day. You hoped Harry was okay but you hated the circumstances of everything. And the night before was great. You were absolutely thrilled to have him with you but again, the burden of the guilt was tearing at your seams. At his.

After a shower you saw a missed text notification and your heart lifted. Throwing your hair up into a towel and picking your phone up with a big smile you opened the text and realized it was from the wrong man.

Would you be up for a picnic in the park? There’s a festival downtown and I was thinking it would be fun to check out.

Sighing you opened the text you’d sent to Harry to see that he’d read it but hadn’t responded. Your heart sunk back into the place it had been right before you’d gotten out of the shower.

I’m exhausted. Was a long day at work. Can I have a raincheck?

You knew you needed to tell Evan that you were seeing someone else. That it wasn’t going to work, but part of you didn’t know if maybe you should leave that door open a bit. Because what if Harry realized after all that he couldn’t be with you anymore? What if Mrs. Styles leaving had him coming to his senses? Despite him telling you he loved you, which you knew he meant, it still might not be enough for him to continue seeing you.

You tried to busy yourself. For an entire hour after realizing that Harry had seen your text but had not responded, you picked up a few things, tossed out the old and dying flowers, combined fresh flowers with ones that had not died from older bouquets… everything reminded you of him.

The sudden knocking on your door had you startled. It was nearly 6:30 pm and you couldn’t be sure it was him, but your heart leaped with hope as you quickly padded across your floor to the front door.

The moment you saw his face through the peephole you opened your door in haste and it felt like one of those cheesy Lifetime movie scenes where the man has come to claim his woman in some desperate bid to win her affections back.

He had his leather overnight bag in hand and he pushed you into your apartment, one arm pulling you into his chest, with his foot closing the door behind him. His mouth was on yours before you even heard the thud of his bag drop onto the floor and then both of his arms were wrapped around your middle.

Your world was spinning and your heart crashed under your rib cage as you moved your mouth with his. Soft and urgent. Not unlike the kiss from the night before when he had you coming so hard you saw stars.

You felt ridiculous as you started to tremble in his arms. Definitely felt as if you were enacting a cheesy romance scene from a B movie.

“My sweet girl. God…” Harry finally parted from the kiss, his big hands splayed across your low back as you both stood in front of your door, “I think I only feel okay when I’m with you. I tried… I don’t know. Everything is so fucked up.”

You cupped his face and bent yourself away so you could look at his eyes, “I know. It really is.”

You got two glasses of water and both stood in your kitchen as Harry told you what had happened with his wife. The night before and then that morning.

“And I thought… maybe this was a wake-up call for me. But,” he shook his head and looked at you softly, “I can’t be away from you. I can’t do it. You’re not just some pretty girl that I enjoy being around. I’m genuinely in love with you. I know I said it last night but having her leave this morning and thinking about it all day and trying to take time to be alone I realize I don’t want this, with you, to ever be over.”

You knew how he felt. Even though you weren’t married you were part of this mess and your own heart went back and forth with rational and irrational thoughts. In the end, it always came back to you loving this man, as stupid as it was.

“She was at the restaurant for lunch today. With her sister and two friends.” You finally decided to tell him. You pulled his hand into yours and looked up at him, both of you were leaning on your counter.

Harry’s expression was surprised as you continued, “Overheard her say a few things. I didn’t know what had happened but she was upset a little. That much was clear. And knowing what I know… well I figured out what was going on. Obviously…” you watched Harry take in the information.

He nodded, “She found the toy I bought you too,” he shook his head, “That was stupid of me. Told her a lie about it and she told me to get rid of it.”

You moved your hand up his forearm and as strange as the moment was with the things being discussed, everything felt so much better with him there.

Harry turned his body to face you and the quick movement of his hands grasping your waist and lifting you up to sit on your counter had you gasping. He placed his hips between your thighs with his hands at your waist and his mouth covering yours.

You held onto his shoulders tightly as he pushed your t-shirt up, letting his fingers slide underneath and upward. You hadn’t put a bra on because you hadn’t planned on leaving your apartment. You smiled into his mouth when you felt his lips turn upward when his palms smoothed up your back with nothing in their way.

He drew his hands toward the underside of your breast, his thumbs pressing into the flesh and upward to your nipples. His tongue pressed against yours as he softly, delicately brushed over your pebbled buds.

You moaned and lowered your hands to the waistband of his pants and plucked at his button. His pants always tightened significantly when he had an erection, the material unable to quite contain him comfortably.

The wet kiss grew frantic when he felt your hands at his waist, opening his pants up and he pulled back from the kiss to look into your eyes.

“Can I? Want to make you feel good…” your words were breathy. You wanted to see him smile. Wanted to wipe away the kind of day he’d had just like you knew he’d do for you when you were done.

You’d gotten used to his girth in your mouth, the way he reached down into your tonsils and your throat and made you gag. You’d learned to tolerate the feeling and how to pump his base with one hand as you sucked the rest of him.

And clearly, Harry wanted exactly that because he was dragging you from the counter, and the moment your feet hit the floor you dropped to your knees and shoved him back against the formica, pulling his pants down to his ankles.

You moaned when you peeled his underwear down and grasped him in your palm. Wide and heavy. You loved that he was uncut. Used the skin over his shaft to pump him before you spit onto his tip and looked up at him with as much love as you could with what you were about to do, licking all over his frenulum and down the side of his cock.

Harry put both of his palms onto the countertop behind him as he watched you in silence. Watched you drag your tongue along his foreskin and down to his base. Watched you glide your hand over his dick and wrap your hand around him as you laved over his tip. Watched you open your mouth with your tongue out and slide his cock into your mouth.

“Fuck, pup. You’re so good to me aren’t you?” He sucked in a sharp breath as you sucked his crown and continued pumping him. He learned early on that you were eager when it came to giving head.

And you were eager because of the way he gave you head. Had he not been so good and so excited to eat you out you wouldn’t have put in as much effort as you did. But you matched his energy and gave back to him dirty blow jobs that rivaled the kind of depraved things he did to your pussy with his mouth.

And when you got yourself into a good rhythm with drool pooling at the edges of your mouth and dripping down your chin you grabbed one of his hands and brought it to the back of your head, encouraging him to push on you, adding pressure to his hand as you looked up at him.

“Fuck, baby. Like this?” He pushed you down over him, making you take him deeper and you immediately gagged. He was already near your tonsils by that point and the little bit of push he gave you had his swollen, achy head pressing past them and into your throat.

You moaned and blinked your eyes as you grasped onto his thigh. You still used your other hand, sometimes stroking at the base, sometimes gently rolling his balls in your palm.

The gurgles and coughs coming from you shouldn’t have been as sexy as they were but Harry knew that a little gagging didn’t make you shy away from taking him deeper. He bit his lip as he watched you.

He kept his hand at the back of your head, gently guiding you up and down his shaft, sometimes giving you a break while you took in a breath through your nose and stroked his hard cock in your fist.

But then, after you’d gotten air in your lungs and you recovered after choking on him for a few solid seconds you went down on him further. Peeking your eyes up at him you forced yourself to go down over him as far as you could reach before you shut your eyes and felt a steady stream of your saliva drip down to your knees. You wretched and gurgled and listened to your lover moan praises to you.

“Oh my god… fuck me, baby. Holy fuck! You’re so fucking good to me. I need you, honey…” his words and his cock were making you dizzy. You wanted his come. Wanted to give him relief (whether he deserved it or not).

You felt him throb in your mouth, his dick poking deep as you swallowed over his tip and tasted the saltiness of his precome. He coughed out a groan and pushed you off by your shoulders with a gasp. He was red in the face, his lips were swollen and especially pink, chest rising and falling, cock twitching before your face as you leaned in to put him back inside your mouth.

“Oh, hold on pup! Wait…” he rushed out his words. You held on to his muscled thighs and looked up at him from your spot on the floor at your knees. You would have protested but you were too busy inhaling oxygen into your lungs and catching your breath.

Harry put his hands under your armpits to lift you upward before he bent down to remove his shoes and pants and underwear. He held you upright as he looked back at you with slobber all over your chin and neck, “Let’s get into your bed. Wanna finish inside of you, okay?”

And you knew “inside of you” meant in your cunt.

You were already slick and pulsing, your clit throbbing for him by the time he pulled your shorts off and spit down over your pussy. He waited for a minute before doing anything as he watched you squirm under him, “Please… what are you doing?” You asked him, impatiently.

Harry grinned at you and lifted your shirt up above your tits before dipping down to suck on each one. Thoroughly wetting them and pulling at your nipples.

When he sat back onto his haunches he sighed as he dragged his hands down your torso, thumbing over your soft skin and taking you all in, “Needed a minute, baby. Want to fuck you like you deserve.”

And fuck you like you deserve he did. Well, maybe you didn’t deserve it, but he certainly knew how to fuck you.

The slow plunge into your pussy had you writhing and keening under him. He focused on your face as he thrusted himself into you with long, languid strokes. Deep and full of love. He put his entire body into each thrust, his knees mushed into the bed, the front of his thighs pressed into the back of yours, his forearms flat onto the mattress on either side of your shoulders, hovering over you as he watched your face twist up in pleasure.

“I need you, Y/n. Fucking love you, baby,” he grunted as his hips ground deep into you, rocking against yours before gliding back to mid-shaft and plunging into you deeply, fitting his balls against your bum, causing your moans to get louder and whinier.

“I need you, Harry,” you moaned in response. The eye contact and the fullness of him consumed you whole. You’d allow him to overpower you in any way. All of your senses were controlled by him at that moment. The connection between your bodies felt unreal. You were both inhaling sharply at the intensity of the situation.

Your cheap bed creaked gently in time with each roll of his hips and the slick pat of your bodies joining each time he buried himself into you was met with his moans and your gasps.

You scratched your nails down his back when your vision began to blur and your blood rushed to your core. His pelvis dragged against your clit, over and over again as he stuffed himself inside of you, pressing you into the bed, your walls squeezing and taking him in like you were made for him. Like he was made to fit in you.

“Want my come, pup?” Harry’s words were tight as he clenched his teeth. He loved the way your nails felt on his back and he knew he’d have to deal with the consequences of that later on, but for now, it felt like heaven and you were his and he only belonged to you.

“Give me your come. Want it to soak all of my insides…” you moaned in response

“Yeah? Want me to fill up your cunt, baby? Get you all full of my cock and my come?” He grunted.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you whimpered and began to spasm. His words had you wishing you weren’t on birth control. Wishing you could get knocked up and have him for your own. Fuck everything else.

“Fuck, pup,” Harry choked his words when he felt you spasming around him, “Coming on my cock, baby? Yeah? Sounds like it feels really good,” he was delirious. He hardly knew what he was saying as your high-pitched whine turned into guttural moans. Your pussy fluttered and clenched around his cock until he couldn’t hold himself back anymore as he tried working you through, but your cunt was begging to be filled and fed. Begging to have his come.

He rutted into you sharply and groaned as he put his lips over yours and let your walls milk him dry, squeezing his shaft and drawing his come deep into your insides. Into your guts.

The earth began to right itself when you felt him shaking and knew he was finally coming. Finally getting the relief you’d wanted to gift him. His hot breath against your neck and his moans as he drained into you had you smiling and wrapping your legs around him tight, pulling him in deeper as you felt the tail end of your orgasm floating away into space. It felt so good to have him with you. To have him inside of you. To hear him tell you he wanted you, needed you, loved you.

Harry was always amazing at aftercare. He always took care of you, softly whispered to you, and held you. The sweet pillow talk and hushed voices as you held one another and kissed felt like what love really should. The sex was outstanding. It always was, but it was the moments after that sealed everything into place for you. Glued your resolve tight and reminded you of who you were with. Reminded you that Harry was yours and you were his and nothing else mattered. No matter what happened outside of the lazy comedown and the tender touches you received after a mind-blowing orgasm, everything always came back to this.

“I really get you all tonight and tomorrow?” You brushed his hair through your fingers as you both lay on your sides facing one another, your thigh draped over his hip, after the intensive cleanup process. Harry had one arm underneath you and his other hand was at your hip.

He grinned, “Yeah. But I look at it more like I get to have you all night and tomorrow. I’m getting a far better deal than you are.”

You laughed and gently tugged at his hair, “Oh please. I’m so lucky you’d even stay.”

Harry blinked his eyes and the grin fell from his face, “Don’t think like that, baby. You’re so much better than I am. In every way. Way out of my league. I don’t deserve your love. You’re precious to me. I’m the lucky one here. Don’t ever forget how this really is, Y/n.”

You settled your head back into your pillow as you kept your eyes on his, “What do you mean?”

“I mean that… like…” he looked toward your bedroom door and then shifted his gaze back to you, “I feel like I should be begging you and kissing the ground you walk on. Like any bit of attention you shower me with is a blessing and I’m surviving only on your love and affection that you somehow allow me to have.”

You smiled and brought your hands down to his face, the overgrown hairs tickling your palms, “You’re crazy. That’s not how this is at all.”

Harry took your hand and pulled your wrist to his mouth, giving you soft kisses to the skin, and shook his head into the pillow, “That is how this is. Whether you see it or not. I’m lucky you even give me the time of day. I’m like a peasant in comparison to your high royal position,” he smiled as you laughed, “I’m serious. I’m not good enough to even be in your presence and yet you let me in over and over again.”

“Stop. I don’t feel like that…”

Harry’s words were mushed into your wrist, “I know you don’t and that’s crazy to me. But that’s how it is, pup. You hold all the power here. Anyone on the outside will say the same. I’m a lowlife and you’re golden rays shining down on me.”

You sighed and shook your head as he pulled you in closer so your tits were pressed into his warm, sturdy chest, “I’m so lucky. I love you much.”

“I’m lucky too. Lucky you’re here with me now. Wish it was always like this.”

Harry kissed your forehead and smoothed his hand over your hair, “Me too, Y/n.”

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[lovesickforhim]

sunshine (making out blurb)

+++

Y/n’s math homework is always a little less horrible when she’s doing it with Harry.

When it’s just her doing calculus by herself, it’s miserable. She gets stressed out as soon as she gets a problem wrong, overwhelmed by all the weird symbols and shortcuts that she doesn’t know. Calculus is just so stupidly hard! She usually has to spend an hour just reading the textbook and finding videos to help her understand whatever they just learned in class… until she eventually gives up and goes to bed. 

It’s different with Harry though. There’s something about the way he explains things to her that just makes it make sense. She’s told him time and time again that he should be the one up there teaching the class instead of her stupid professor. He makes math easy. A big part of it might be because he’s right there to catch her mistakes and answer her questions if she gets stuck, but also he’s just a really good teacher. He breaks concepts down for her in a way that isn’t all complicated and math-y, but like a fun little puzzle. And if she doesn’t get it, he’ll do the problem right in front of her, explaining every step and pausing to make sure she gets it. He’s patient and motivating, and pushes her to solve problems by herself, even if she’s scared that she’ll do it wrong. 

Plus, he gives her a nice little kiss as a reward every time she solves a question right, so you best believe she’s not giving up until she gets every damn question in that textbook right! 

“Good job sunshine,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. 

They’re sitting thigh to thigh on her bed, y/n’s ipad in her lap and her textbook right in front of her criss-crossed legs. She’s in a cutsie little pajama set, matching white pj shorts and a tiny tank top with little roses printed all over it. Harry sits with his legs spread out in front of him, with one of his hands gently resting on her back as he leans over her shoulder and checks her work. She smiles cutely, the apples of her cheeks rounding out as Harry’s pink lips pucker against her cheek as a reward. Not only does she feel proud of herself for getting the math right, but she also feels her heart do a backflip every time Harry gives her a kiss. Who knew doing her math homework could be so fun! 

She flips her pencil around in her fingers, turning her head to the side so she can get a proper reward. Kisses on the cheek are good motivation for when she’s struggling and she needs a little something to keep her going through a hard problem… but she got this one right. Her eyes meet his bright green ones, which are glimmering softly. He’s already smiling at her, his thumb tracing soft little circles on her back, and he doesn’t deny her when she leans in for a soft, sweet, and innocent kiss on the lips. In fact, when she tries to pull away from her soft little peck, he follows her forward, refusing to disconnect their lips until he gets a few more kisses in. 

It makes her giggle against his lips, pushing on his shoulders. “I only have one more,” she says, not wanting to get distracted when she’s so close to being done.

The dimple in his cheek deepens, and he stares at her softly. His eyes are so intense, as if he’s looking straight into her heart, as if he’s trying to see into the depth of her soul so he can really understand her. They flicker back and forth between hers, filled with just pure adoration. “If you get this last one right, I have a surprise for you,” he whispers mischievously.

Y/n’s eyes widen, a flash of excitement flickering over her irises. “What?” she asks eagerly, her hands landing on his thigh.

His lips twist in an impish smile, and he nods towards her homework. “Do it and you’ll see.”

She gets it right in one try, zero questions asked. It seems like kisses and little surprises are really all it takes to teach y/n math. She’s looking back at him with giddy eyes, basking as he gives her one last kiss for doing her homework correctly. “Go look in my bag,” he mumbles against her lips, one of his hands coming up to tuck her hair behind her ear. She pulls away from him, giving him a suspicious look with squinted eyes and pursed lips, but he just smiles and nods his chin towards his bag.

She gets up and cautiously approaches, peeking back at him nervously. All he does is smile, leaning back onto her pillows and putting his hands behind his back. She unzips his bag, and inside of it… 

“Oh,” y/n’s eyes round out as soon as she sees it. “Harry,” she whimpers, turning around to face him with a pout. Inside of his bag is the cutest pink stuffed elephant, with a little elephant nose that makes y/n want to cry. The elephant has animated eyes and big floppy ears, and it’s soft and fuzzy and just makes her heart melt because it’s so her and it’s so Girl and her grumpy boyfriend just knows her so well!!! She picks up the elephant and runs over to her bed with it and she gets extra excited when she sees how perfectly her new friend fits in with the rest of her pink stuffies and pillows. She climbs straight on top of Harry, putting the elephant next to her worn out stuffed bunny, and throws her arms around his shoulders. 

“Thank you, I love it, it’s so cute,” she babbles, burying her face in his neck. She’s almost getting emotional because there’s absolutely no occasion for him to be getting her gifts, her voice getting a little high pitched and wobbly. Harry smiles like it’s no big deal, his hand petting her hair softly as he chuckles softly. “What’s it for?” she asks, pulling away and looking at him with big round eyes.

He shrugs. “Saw it when I was out last night. Thought you would like it.” 

She stares at him with that endearing little pout, not knowing what to do except to lean in and kiss him. She puts her hands on his face, her fingers cupping his and his smiling cheeks pressed against her palms, and pulls him forward so she can press her lips against his. 

His lips struggle to kiss her back with how big he’s smiling, so in awe of her and how cute she is, but he manages to rest a hand on her hip and pucker his lips against hers. Her hands slide down to hold onto his shoulders, and her fingers twist in his shirt as their lips fold over each other. She loves kissing him, she really does. Whenever she flutters her eyes shut and presses her lips against his, all her worries melt away. Her shoulders relax and her mind goes blank. Harry brings up a hand to cup her jaw, and his thumb traces over her cheekbone softly, just feeling her delicate skin. 

They haven’t gone any further than these innocent kisses so far, except for that first time in his room, when he’d turned what should have been her romantic first kiss into an impromptu makeout sesh. He felt horrible when he found out that he’d tried to casually hook up with her when she hadn’t even had her first kiss! And absolutely sick to his stomach when he realized he’d been her first kiss, and that he had fucked it all up! 

A sweet little sunshine girl like her deserved to have the first kiss of her dreams, he mourned. At a moonlit picnic or in a garden of roses. And he’d given her the worst first kiss. He literally made her cry. 

Since then, there have been plenty of better, sweeter, more romantic kisses, to make up for that teensy little blip of a first kiss – kisses on her front doorstep after the most magical first date, kisses at the park underneath the cherry blossom trees, goodnight kisses in her bed before he tucks her in and heads home for the night. But nothing more than that.

Tonight though… he’s tempted to try a little something more. 

He kisses her lips one final time before pulling away with a soft click, his hand still gently cupping her jaw. His eyes slowly open, and he finds his sunshine already looking right back at him, her eyes wide and moony. Her lips are parted, so soft and delicate and kissable, and she blinks innocently. She’s so cute, so reactive and eager. She’s staring at him like he just gave her the world with that little kiss. 

His fingers trace down from her cheek to her lips, and then to her jawline. With the softest nudge he tilts her head to the side, then brushes her hair off to the side to expose her neck. When his lips skim the sensitive skin right above her pulse point, her breath catches in her throat. Her grip on his shirt tightens, and her thighs tense from where she’s sitting atop him, straddling his hips. 

His lips press against her neck so softly, the most delicate kiss he’s ever pressed against her skin. His eyes flutter shut and he just lingers there, inhaling deeply. She smells like vanilla and sugar cookies. She makes his heart pound and his head spin. His hand on her hip holds on tighter, his fingers dimpling her soft skin as he starts to press more kisses up her neck and around her jawline. 

Y/n’s eyes flutter shut and she tries to regulate her breathing, but her breaths are short and shaky and she can’t think straight. Harry’s breathing sends shivers down her spine, tickling her ear every time he exhales. His cotton candy lips tickle her throat and press down in hot, slow, gentle kisses. She swallows thickly and tries to hold down all the noises that want to escape her, but somehow a breathy moan leaves her lips. She feels herself grow hot and she’s not sure if it’s embarrassment at how weak she sounds, or if she’s just getting all hot from how Harry’s tongue just darted out to lightly tease her neck. 

Harry smiles to himself lightly, deciding to test the waters and suck a little bit at her neck. He forgets, sometimes, just how innocent and inexperienced his angel of a girlfriend is. She gets worked up easily and is so responsive to his touch. Even the lightest of kisses against her throat have her whimpering and floating in another world. He loves it. He can sense how antsy she’s getting now, how she’s shuffling around on his lap and fisting at his shirt. She hopes he can’t tell how sweaty her palms have gotten, and she’d actually die if she knew that he could feel her clenching around nothing through her tiny sleep shorts.

He doesn’t spend too much time on her neck, not wanting to leave any marks without her permission, instead sliding his fingers into her hair and tilting her head down again so it’s no longer thrown back. She lets him maneuver her easily, opening her eyes, her chest rising and falling heavily. Her eyebrows pinch together as she briefly looks down at his lips, longingly. She tries to get ahold of herself, but just a few seconds of him loving on her neck have sent her into a spiral. She’s so sensitive, so reactive – she jumps when his hand migrates to her thigh, goosebumps rising as he rubs up and down her bare leg. 

Harry’s eyes are warm and fond as he just stares at her– her pretty eyes and her delicate eyelashes, her lips, her cheeks, her smile. He tries not to linger too much on how cute she looks in her pajamas, how the low neckline accentuates her neck and her collarbones or how the thin material fails to conceal her peaked nipples. If he thinks about it too hard, he’ll get hard. And he doesn’t want that yet, doesn’t want to overwhelm his sweet, pure, innocent sunshine with his horny thoughts. 

He kisses her again as a distraction, slotting their lips together, and it’s sweet and simple and calming. Kissing her is comforting, her lips a safe haven. She could be an angel, for all he knows, with a halo and wings and everything.

“Sunshine,” he murmurs between kisses, “do something for me?”

“Hm?” she hums, hazy and half-paying attention. She stutters a bit when Harry’s tongue flicks at her bottom lip, and then at the seam of her lips. He gives a reassuring kiss.

“Open up f’me a bit.” His hand cups her jaw and he soothingly pets her face, as if coaxing her to part her lips. “Wanna– wanna taste you.”

She can’t help but pause, pulling back from the kiss for just a second to process what he’s said, but she’s nodding yes before any insecurity can fill her mind. “Okay,” she says softly, swallowing nervously. “Um–” she tries to ask this without embarrassing herself, “What do I do with my tongue?”

He continues pressing kisses to the corner of her mouth, “Jus’– um – lick against mine, sunshine.” He pulls away for just a second, eyes half-hooded and not at all fazed about having to explain this to her. “Dunno how to really explain it. You’ll get the hang of it, though.” 

She nods once more, insecurely, and flutters her eyes shut as Harry leans back in to continue kissing her. His fingers scratch deliciously against her scalp as he licks against her lips again – this time, she opens. His tongue dips in slowly, like soft honey, warm and wet. It’s unfamiliar, sure, but it doesn’t bother her. She tries to mimic the way his jaw falls slack, and how his tongue dips forward and back softly, opening up for him more and more as he continues to gently kiss her. He licks into her again, brushing his tongue against hers and she finds herself not even thinking as she brushes back. Her eyebrows pinch together and her nails start to dig into his back as she unconsciously leans closer to him. 

Their lips move against each other slowly, a sultry dance that’s all brand new to y/n… but god is it hot to have his tongue in her mouth. He’s warm and wet and playful, using his tongue to tease her lower lip while they kiss, flicking against her tongue flirtatiously. A whimper crawls up her throat, needy and desperate for more. He’s showing her things that she’s never experienced before, and all the pent up sexual desire she’s had is bubbling up in her tummy, begging to be released. 

She’s started to move her hips against him in soft rolls, grinding herself down as subtly as she can, and Harry’s hands on her hip seems to be encouraging her, gripping her tightly and pulling her closer and closer. Her arms unravel from around his shoulders and sneak their way down to the hem of his shirt, fingers finding the firm, warm skin of his abdomen. Her hands skim upwards to feel the lines of muscle that line his tummy, and she can’t believe that this green eyed adonis is literally her boyfriend. She lightly tugs on the shirt signaling that she wants it off, and starts whining while her hips move against his and Harry lets out a deep, low groan. 

He gently grabs her hands that are toying with the edge of his shirt and guides them back around his neck. “Not yet, baby,” he mumbles, giving a couple of soft, more tame pecks while his hand slows down her hips. He gives her one firm kiss to her lips to leave her breathless, then traces some more down her neck while she pants up towards the ceiling. Her throat bobs as she swallows thickly, and for the first time, her eyes are filled with lust, arousal, and need. Harry looks just as bad as her, his eyes dark, pupils blown out, lips pink and swollen. 

“Need t’take it slow,” he rasps, sounding more like he’s trying to convince himself rather than y/n. 

She takes a deep breath, and nods her head, understanding. He’s doing this for her, saving her firsts so that they can be comfortable and memorable and special special… but god, sometimes she wishes he would just rip her clothes off and stuff his cock inside of her the way Rhysand does in the book she’s reading right now. Virginity is overrated anyway, who cares how she loses it! (she does)

But she agrees nonetheless, rolling off of him with a heavy sigh and wiping her lips with the back of her hand. She feels sticky in between her thighs and her heart has not beat at a normal pace for the past ten minutes of kissing Harry. But, whatever. She picks up her new stuffed elephant, petting its floppy ears softly, and thankfully doesn’t notice the way Harry has to subtly adjust his plumped up cocked. 

She just flops down next to him, elephant in hand, kicking her feet in the air behind her, and asks, “What do you think we should name her?”

+++

It’s become a sort of routine for Harry and y/n to hang out after class on Friday nights. 

Monday and Wednesday nights, y/n is usually at the library studying, and on Tuesday/Thursdays, Harry has a math lecture from 6-7:20. Of course, Harry will oftentimes sit at the library with her, maybe do some homework (or usually take a nap) while she reads her biology textbook and takes color coded notes. And on the nights that Harry has his late night lectures, she’ll stay on campus a little later so that they could get dinner together before class. 

But Friday nights are when they really get to see each other. Sunshine is usually too burnt-out by the end of the week to even think about studying, and Harry is more than content to sit at his apartment and play video games while she reads a book in his bed.

It’s their favorite way to hang out after a long week. No loud parties, no stinky rooms, no distractions. Just them, together. 

Blake’s gone back to visit his hometown for the weekend, so Harry and y/n have his apartment all to themselves. That means that instead of hiding out in his room like usual, they’ve migrated out to his living room. Harry’s playing some video game on the TV, filled with blood and war and gory stuff, but he’s turned down the volume so that the gross sounds don’t bother sunshine while she’s reading. She’s got a big hardcover book in her hands (Happy Place by Emily Henry), a book that she’d gotten when they went to Barnes and Noble together last Friday. She’s only just had the chance to start it, though, since she had a big bio midterm earlier today. 

Harry sits shirtless on the couch, his eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched in a serious way that looks insanely hot from where y/n is sitting. Her back is resting against the other arm of the couch, facing Harry with her feet up and crossed at the ankle, her pink fuzzy socks almost brushing against his elbows. He’s shirtless, only wearing a pair of gray sweats (!!!), and his arms just look so… big and yummy. She can see the small freckles and bumps on his tanned back as he hunches over his controller, and can’t tear her eyes away from the shadows of muscles along his back and shoulders. And his heart shaped lips… so pink and plump and kissable…

An amused smirk gradually spreads on Harry’s face, signature dimple denting his cheek as he feels y/n’s hungry eyes feasting on him from the other end of the couch. From the corner of his vision, he can see the way she’s chewing on the inside of her cheek, how her eyes are captivated by his bare torso with such fascination. 

He doesn’t think she even realizes how long she’s been staring at him.

He gives her a quick glance, eyes glimmering teasingly, and she realizes that she’s been embarrassingly caught. Quickly, she averts her eyes back down to her book, pretending like nothing happened.

Harry chuckles. “Whatcha starin’ at, sunshine?”

“Nothing,” she hums casually, despite her burning hot cheeks.

He pauses his game, putting the controller down onto the little coffee table next to him, and turns towards her. She refuses to meet his gaze this time, continuing to stare down at the page even though she’s processing about 0% of the words that she reads. No, her brain is exceedingly preoccupied with how her very attractive and very shirtless boyfriend is staring at her right now, with that teasing look in his eye. And that stupid, smug smirk. He’s like a snake about to attack a tiny little garden bunny. 

“Baby…” he goads, but she continues to pretend-read her book. Only when he lightly tickles her sock-covered foot does she pay any attention to him, yelping out and jolting her feet away. He snorts out a laugh as she folds both her feet underneath herself, clumsily protecting herself from Harry’s devilish fingers. It wouldn’t be hard for him to tackle her right now, hold her down on the couch while his fingers dig into her ribs and under her armpits until she's cry-laughing. He’s done it plenty of times before, and has found it to be the most effective way to get her attention… so she puts the book down obediently and looks up at him with a shy smile.

“Hi,” she says innocently, pretending like she hadn’t been ogling him for five minutes straight while he’d been playing his game. She just sits there with her hands in her lap, as if she’s an angel. 

He smiles knowingly. Her longing stares and hungry eyes are her silent indication that she wants a kiss. The type of kiss where he pulls her into his lap, licks into her mouth, and palms at her ass. A real, proper make out. 

She probably doesn’t know that she’s so obvious about it, he thinks – staring at his lips with puppy dog eyes and drooling over his bare chest. She’s trying to play it casual, but he can see the needy glimmer in her eyes. It seems like making out with her that first time in her bedroom opened the floodgates, unleashing something in y/n that had been so innocently contained by her angelic, virginal facade. Ever since then, she’s been giving him these eyes, begging for more. 

He shakes his head to himself, still smirking, before leaning forward to kiss her. This is exactly what she wants, and Harry knows it. Her longing stares and hungry eyes were just her silent way of asking for a kiss, since she’s a little too shy to ask for it straight up.

Their lips fold over each other, a slow kiss, gentle and meant only to subdue y/n. The only sound in the room is the soft smacking of their lips against each other, the little click that comes every time his lips slide off hers and then reattach milliseconds later. He leads the kiss (he always does), so every time he tilts her head, sunshine tilts the other way. When he slides his fingers into her hair, she stretches her neck upwards. When his teeth nip at her bottom lip teasingly, she whines with furrowed brows, pressing herself against his lips harder. And when he licks at the seam of her lips, she opens up for him, just like he taught her. 

He can feel his cock stirring, and forces himself to pull away. It’s a kiss deep enough to satisfy most of sunshine’s needs – to quiet her racing mind and get her focused on just him and nothing else – but it’s also nothing too intense to overwhelm her. And, it’s tame enough for Harry to be able to show some restraint. 

He has to take a second, hovering in front of her with his eyes still closed. His hand is still cupping her jaw, just reveling in the taste of her chapstick that lingers on his lips… he takes a deep, calming breath. Breathe in, hold for seven seconds, then out. He’s strong. 

But… when he opens his eyes, she’s looking up at him with disappointed and longing irises, her bottom lip jutting out sadly. She wants more, her eyes clearly say, and she’s needy for him, her pouted lips tease.

Okay maybe he’s not that strong. 

He’s barely kissed her, and yet her pupils are blown out with desire, breath already catching in her throat. He wonders how disheveled she’d look if he really kissed her. How she’d whimper out little noises if he licked into her mouth, or how her chest would rise and fall while she tries to catch her breath. She’d probably grip onto his shirt, wrap her arms around his neck and twist her fingers into his hair, tugging on it desperately.  And he’d grip her hips, grind her down onto his cock, bite on her bottom lip and suck on her tongue… god, his dick twitches at the thought of it. 

If he were strong, he’d shut his eyes and get a hold of himself – but he’s not. Instead he stares at her pretty lips, slicked and swollen just from that little bit of kissing. His thumb softly brushes against the apple of her cheek, while her eyes only grow wider and more pleading. If he likes her lips so much, then why doesn’t he just get back to kissing her! 

His thumb comes down to tug on her pouty lip so he can watch it bounce back into place. His eyes darken, his nose flares, and his eyebrows furrow, and then he hears her whimper, literally whimper because of how pent up and needy she’s feeling. His resolve crumbles.

If she wants more, he’ll give her more.

He kisses her again, still soft and gentle, but somehow it’s hotter. Needier. Their lips fold over each other over and over again, an eager, spit-slicked exchange. The only sound in the room is the soft smacking of their lips against each other, the little click that comes every time his lips slide off hers and then reattach milliseconds later. 

Y/n is unconsciously lifting herself up to be closer to him, nearly sitting on her knees now, pressing herself upwards and upwards. At this point he should just pull her on top of her, he thinks, so he puts a hand on her hip and coaxes her onto his lap. 

She’s clumsy as she climbs onto him, too concentrated on not messing up their kiss to successfully untangle her own legs (she’s still new to all this), but Harry doesn’t mind it. It’s endearing, how her foot gets stuck underneath her butt as she presses herself closer to him, or how her knee knocks against his hip as she tries to straddle him. His hands gently guide her thighs as she maneuvers herself onto his lap, hands encasing her ribs and steadying her uncoordinated movements.

His thighs spread open in a natural manspread, and he slouches down enough on the couch so that y/n’s a head above him. She has to lean down to keep their lips connected, her hair falling into his face, and her hands tentatively find their way to his shoulders so that she can keep her balance and not fall on top of him. Harry’s fingers gently brush the hair out of her face and tuck it behind her ear, then linger on her face, tracing over her cheekbone and cupping her jaw. He loves holding her face when he kisses her, especially because she unconsciously leans into his touch, sighing happily the way a kitten being pet would purr. 

She never knew the simple act of kissing could be this hot… but there’s something about having his warm mouth against hers, feeling the slick of his spit as he sucks her bottom lip into his mouth… even just feeling his heavy breaths against the side of her cheek. Soft sighs and little moans escape her in a way she can’t control, and her brows pinch together in the cutest, most desperate way when his hands migrate over her bum and start palming her.

She just wants to kiss him over and over and over again! No breaks, not even to breathe. She wants to feel his lips against hers until she passes out.

She reciprocates his every move eagerly, like a little puppy learning how to do tricks. She’ll move her head whichever way his nose nudges her, slot her lips against his at whatever pace he decides on. When he breathes, she breathes, and when he slides his fingers into her hair, she stretches her neck upwards. He’s constantly tilting his head to the left and then to the right, switching between suckling on her top and bottom lip, alternating between open mouth and closed mouth kisses – just teaching her as he kisses her. 

Harry pulls away softly, pressing his forehead to hers and petting the apple of her cheek with his thumb, giving her a break to catch her breath. “Alright?” he asks a bit breathlessly. She nods, eager but apprehensive. Harry calms her with a simple peck, soft and familiar. “Y’doing so good, sunshine,” he murmurs reassuringly. 

He’s kissing her again three seconds later, slower and more deliberately this time. She parts her lips once more, more sure of herself this time, and when his tongue flicks against her bottom lip softly she experimentally licks back. It immediately illicits a deep groan from Harry. He slides his tongue past her lips, tasting her, licking into her. His teeth nip at her bottom lip teasingly, and she whines with furrowed brows, pressing herself against his lips harder. He’s obsessed with her. Her lips are so soft, her body so pliant, he could kiss her for hours on end. 

She’s growing more and more desperate as their kiss grows hotter and hotter. Her hands on his shoulders start to wander, grazing over his tattooed chest, and she shuffles around on his lap, trying to wriggle closer to him. She’s getting that tingly feeling in her center that she only gets when she’s reading one of those books, and unconsciously, she starts grinding her center down on his lap. 

Harry lets out a strained groan, his hands immediately shooting down to hold her hips still. “Fuck,” he rasps, throwing his head back.

“Hm?” Y/n is out of it, chasing after his lips as he pulls away, completely unaware of Harry’s discomfort. She pouts at how his fingers are digging into her hips, preventing her from wriggling any closer to him when it’d felt so good! “What’s wrong?”

She threads her fingers through his hair, her nails scratching against his scalp, and tries to pull him back for a kiss – but he turns his head to the side, refusing. The abruptness leaves y/n disgruntled and confused. She’s panting, a bit breathless from how his tongue had been licking in her mouth, the electricity that had been flowing through her veins slowly fizzling away. Her lips are swollen, nearly bruised, and furrows her brows at the abrupt end to this >very nice kiss. 

"Need–" he licks his lips, "need t'take a second."

"Why?" she whines, staring down at his mouth. 

"M'bout to cum in my pants, sunshine. Gimme a bit." 

Her eyes widen. She looks down and sure enough… there’s the outline of his hard cock, a prominent bulge in his sweatpants. She’s never actually seen one in person and– gosh the size of it makes her tremble a little bit. Is that normal or is he just really big? He looks thick, and the tip of his cock is a significant length down his thigh. Why is her mouth watering? She swallows thickly and looks back up at him, like a deer caught in headlights.

She tries to give him some space, moving her hips back so that she’s not brushing against his erection… but even that small movement is painful for Harry, making him throw his head back with a loud groan. “I need to go to the bathroom,” Harry pants, hands on her hips, already lifting her off his lap. 

“What– oh!” she squeals as she’s suddenly thrown onto the couch.

She blinks. The bathroom door shuts. 

She’s never been more aroused in her life. 

+++

Harry has his hand down his sweatpants before he can even lock the door, fishing out his cock and palming himself with a deep groan. His pants slide down to midthigh as he spreads his own precum over his shaft, his fingers wrapped around himself in a tight fist. He pumps quickly, making sure to rub a thumb over his tip every once in a while, as that's one of the easiest ways to make himself cum. He wants this to be quick – he’s not in the bathroom jerking off because he wants an insane orgasm… he just wants his cock to stop hurting while he’s kissing his girlfriend! 

He throws his head back against the wall and thrusts his hips into his own hand, conjuring up all the images in his head – y/n’s pretty lips, slicked and swollen with his spit. Her disheveled hair, mussed up from his fingers. Her wide, moony eyes, her dreamy sighs and whimpers. Her cute bum in her tiny shorts, that had fit so nicely in the palm of his hand, that had jiggled so prettily when he lifted her onto his lap. His toes curl as he lets his thoughts get more explicit – how pretty would she look if she were the one jerking him off right now? If she was down on her knees with her tiny hand wrapped around his cock, pumping him and looking at his prick with those bambi eyes. What if she took him into her mouth? Laved her tongue around his tip the way his thumb is doing now? His biceps bulge as he jerks himself off, harder and faster, more cum leaking from his tip and making the glide smoother. If only he could fill up her mouth, cover her pretty lips with his cum…

His entire body shivers, long white streaks bursting from his cock and all over his fist. He bites his lip, refusing to let any sound escape the bathroom for y/n to hear. She’s not ready for… this. 

He looks at himself in the mirror– his cheeks are flushed, his hair is a mess, and his cock looks worn out. He washes his hands in the sink with soap, shamefully washing away the mess he made on his own hand, then splashes his face with water. His prick is still sensitive and he winces as he tucks himself back into his sweatpants. It’s barely been five minutes since he first entered the bathroom, meaning that he lasted a whopping… three minutes. 

She says nothing when he comes back, already back to reading her book. He lets out a sigh of relief. 

He stays firmly on his side of the couch for the rest of the night. 

+++

“Harry,” y/n moans.

Her hair is splayed out on Harry’s pillow underneath her head, Harry hovering right above her. He has one hand pressed on the bed to keep him above her, and the other on her hip, roaming up and down her body. One minute he’ll be cradling her ribcage delicately, and the next he’ll be gripping her thigh and hoisting it up and around his waist so that he can fit his hips in between hers.

Her hands are similarly roaming up and down his chest and his back, holding onto his shoulders and grabbing his biceps as he kisses her. Her back arches as his hand squeezes her bum, and a broken whimper filters between their lips. His tongue slips into her mouth when she whines, gliding against hers smoothly. And when he pulls off from the kiss, he lightly bites at her lower lip, tugging on it playfully before letting it bounce back into place. 

He buries his face in her neck, kissing down to her shoulder and over her collarbones, sucking lightly and then smoothing his tongue over the abused spots soothingly. His teeth nip and graze the thin skin of her throat, and his chest rumbles when she throws her head back to grant him more access. 

This is torture for him. 

It had started off so innocently, just the two of them watching Netflix together. His head was laying on her chest while they watched their movie, her fingers brushing through his hair (he loves it when she plays with his hair). But then – god, he’d been so stupid!!! He looked up at her, and saw her pretty face and her pretty eyes and her pretty lips… and he just wanted to kiss her so bad. One kiss wouldn’t hurt, he told himself!!!

He lifted his head from where his ear had been pressed against her breast, and leaned up to just press one sweet, innocent kiss to her lips. But then, one kiss turned into two, and two turned into three. He hated how she had to strain her neck and lean down to reach his lips, so he twisted around to make it easier for her. But then his neck started to hurt, so he pushed himself up so he was hovering above her. And now his dick is hard, and he’s grinding it down into her most intimate area.

He’s mentally bashing himself while kissing her – he should’ve had more self-control, he should pull away and go to the bathroom to sort himself…  but also he can’t stop kissing her. 

Y/n has zero complaints either, practically egging him on, begging him to go further. She threaded her fingers through his hair while they kissed, and wrapped her arms around him so that he wouldn’t pull away. She whimpered and whined prettily, fluttered her eyes when he kissed down her throat, arched her back into him and lifted her hips so that she could press herself into the area where he was obviously very hard.

He’s literally just a guy. How is he supposed to pull away when his soft and sweet girlfriend is pressing herself against her cock and moaning against his lips?

“Fuck,” his voice is strained and there’s a vein bulging in his neck as he takes a second to breathe. Y/n has learned well, and starts trailing kisses along his jaw while he catches his breath. She tries her hand at sucking marks on his neck, but finds herself too impatient to focus all her energy on one spot when she just wants to kiss all over his neck and cheeks! Her lips skim the corner of his mouth, pressing soft, teasing kisses. 

He breathes heavily, shutting his eyes and trying really, really hard to not cum in his pants.

Y/n makes it practically impossible though, whining “kiss me,” as her nails scratch deliciously at his scalp. Fire rushes through his veins at the sound of her voice and he nearly collapses on top of her.

“Baby…” he says, half warning and half pleading. She’s literal heaven on Earth. Her lips are like magnets, and when she skims her lips over his he can’t help but pucker to connect them in a kiss. She bites down on his lip, teasing him, and licks into his mouth, desperately wanting to feel his tongue gliding against hers again. 

She’s a riled up little thing, concupiscent and needy, eager to kiss for hours at a time. He’s had to invest in a jumbo sized vaseline to keep his lips hydrated with how overworked his lips are. And she’s naughty under her good girl, studious, bookworm persona. She tugs on his hair and leaves scratches on his back when they kiss, wraps her legs around him and lifts her hips to grind her softest areas against his hardness. She moans and whimpers and tells him how good he feels, presses her breasts up to his chest… god he can only imagine how she’ll act when he actually gets to touch her. 

His hand slides up her side, over her ribs and to her breast, palming it over her t-shirt. She loves being groped, apparently, always leaning into his touch whenever his hands pinch her tits teasingly or cup her ass. It makes her even needier for him, makes her more desperate to get rid of the clothes and jump straight in. Neither of them know how they’ve managed to go this long with only make outs and groping, when they’re just so obsessed with touching and feeling the other. It’s mostly only Harry’s romantic heart that has managed to keep them strong, who is absolutely adamant on giving y/n sweet and cherishable firsts. These hot makeouts are just a loophole around his rules.

Harry loses himself in her, lets her fill up all his senses. She’s all he can hear, all he can smell, all he can taste, and all he can touch. His mind is void of anything except for getting closer to sunshine, kissing her more and touching her more. Her tits are soft and warm, her bum is round and biteable, and her cute little tummy jumps whenever his fingers skim over it. He unconsciously grinds his hips into her center, the tip of his cock rubbing against her clit, from what he can feel through her thin shorts. His jaw goes slack every time he grinds himself against her, the pressure in his pants growing tighter and tighter– until he groans loudly above her, hiding his face in her chest as his entire body shudders and his arms grow weak. 

Y/n freezes, knowing that this particular grind of his hips was different from the rest. Instead of rolling his hips forward and backward, the way he’d been doing before, he presses his hips firmly against her and ruts forward in short jolts, hips twitching and abdomen clenching. A raspy groan leaves him, his cheeks red as cherries and his eyes hooded with pleasure. Y/n feels herself gushing at the thought of what just happened, and replays it in her head over and over and over again. Her voice cracks around a moan as he gives one final thrust against her, his hand squeezing around her tit firmly and erotically brushing against her nipple.

Their eyes meet, hers wide and blown out with a mix of innocent shock and filthy thoughts, while his are clear as the morning sky after a night of cleansing rain. He radiates post-orgasmic bliss.  

His cheeks are red like cherries and his eyes are lust-filled and hazy, hooded with pleasure. He radiates post-orgasmic bliss.

“Well, shit,” he chuckles at himself. He’s kind of embarrassed that he literally came in his pants by making out with his girlfriend, but for the most part he is just relieved that his balls aren’t bursting anymore. “Sorry, sunshine. I couldn’t– um, I couldn’t really control it.” He pushes himself up, feeling his own cum slowly against his thigh. “Are you okay?”

She nods, almost as if she’s in a trance. “I… want to do that again,” she whispers bashfully.

“Y’want to make me cum in m’pants again?” he asks with a soft, confused laugh.

“I-I just want to watch you… cum, again,” she hesitates around the word, feeling dirty and shy, despite how true the statement is. “Next time… next time, can I help?” she asks hopefully.

HIs eyes roll to the back of his head and he leans back down for a kiss.

“Y’gonna kill me, sunshine.”

+++

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[lovesickforhim]

Summer Love

(Long Hair Harry Styles x Reader)

Warnings- smut: Slight hair pulling, nipple play, p in v, oral (female receiving), breeding kink, spanking, daddy kink

A/N- I know what you’re thinking. Smut?! Em! I never knew you had it in you! Yeah well surprise!

Summary: Harry surprises Y/N with a picnic yacht date while he’s on break from tour. But he has other plans. Smut, if you don’t like it, please see my masterlist for my non-smut work!

>>>—————————————->

“Hurry up, Y/N! Let’s go!”

I giggle and shake my head at his eagerness. He grabs my hand and starts pulling me towards the dock.

“Harry, why are we even doing this? What’s this big surprise?”

He turns and gives me a sheepish smile before he lifts me into his arms and carries me the rest of the way, walking onto a yacht he rented. With a kiss to my cheek, he sets me down on my feet again.

“Get yourself comfy, Y/N. Just got to get a going and then we’ll get to your surprise. And before you ask- no, I don’t need help. I got it love. Just sit there looking beautiful as always.”

I blush and giggle as I sit down on the cushioned seat, eating for him. As soon as we get far enough away from the shore, Harry begins to pull things out and sets them up on the floor. When he’s finally done, he runs over to me and takes my hand excitedly. He pulls me over to the front of the yacht where he has a little picnic set up.

I tear up slightly and throw my arms around him, to which he hugs me.

“Harry! You didn’t have to do this!”

He lifts me up and spins me around just a little before he sets me down.

“I know, but I wanted to. You’re so supportive when I’m on tour and I wanted to show you how much I appreciate you.”

He guides me to sit down on one of the cushions, and I remove my sandals as he takes a seat across from me.

“I do it because I love you. You know that.”

He opens up the champagne bottle before he looks at me.

“Yes, but to matter what time zone I’m on, you stay up to talk to me after the show… You never miss our goodnight call.”

He pours champagne into 2 flutes before he pecks my lips and hands me one. I smile and take a sip of my champagne.

“I’ve got all your favorites, minus sushi. Wouldn’t do so well being out like that. And-.”

He pulls out a small bouquet of Daisies and hands it to me.

“Picked them myself. Hope they look okay.”

I smile and nod before I lean over and peck his lips.

“They’re beautiful! You did a great job.”

He smiles and fixes me a plate with all my favorites. After a couple hours, he cleans up and we lay cuddled up on the blanket. I’m about to fall asleep when Harry pulls me on top of him, and I look at him in surprise.

“Harry-.”

He smiles and pecks my lips.

“I’ve missed you, Y/N… So much. I know you’ve got work and you can’t tour with me but… I’ve just… I’ve missed you. All of you. And I never have the alone time to do what I really want…”

He adjusts me in his arms and something becomes very apparent to me. He’s hard.

“Harry-.”

“Tell me to stop, Y/N. Because if we start I don’t think I’ll be able to.”

I lean down and kiss him, Harry immediately melting into my lips. His grip on me remains sure as he flips us over. He pulls my sundress up and throws it behind him, leaving me in the matching set he has bought me a couple months before.

“Fuck look at you. Wear this for me, did you love?”

I giggle and shrug.

“Maybe. But you know, I think you’re wearing too much and we need to fix that.”

I unbutton his dress shirt and he slips it off before slipping off his shorts, leaving him in his signature Calvin Klein boxers. He unclips my bra and as soon as it’s out of sight, he begins to kiss and nibble down my body.

He pays extra attention to my breasts, his teeth biting at my nipples before he sucks slightly, moaning on my sensitive tits as I squirm underneath him.

“H-Harry… Please… Wanna taste you…”

He lifts his head up and smiles, shaking his head.

“You know how I love giving you everything you want, but that’s the one thing I just can’t give you right now. Now, sit up. Take off your panties. Then come sit. You know where.”

He lays back and I sit up, doing as he instructed. I slip off my panties and sit on his chest, one leg on each side of him as I wait for further instruction. He slaps my ass rather harshly and I can’t help but moan at the contact.

“That’s not what I said, baby. Sit. Now. Don’t make me tell you again.”

I nod and scoot up a bit, hovering my sopping wet core over his mouth. Another slap hits my ass and I squeal, collapsing out of reaction. He wraps his arms around my thighs, securing me in place as he begins his attack on my clit.

“F-fuck Harry!”

Another slap hits my ass and I squeak. He growls and scolds me from between my legs.

“That’s not my name right now, love. Say it right or you won’t say anything at all.”

I bite my lip and nod as he continues to lick and suck on my clit, biting lightly every little while.

“D-Daddy! I can’t! I-I think I’m gonna come!”

He slaps my ass again and pulls me down more, sucking and licking as I moan and pant.

“Come for me, Y/N. Do it baby. You can come.”

I lean down and grab his hair, lightly pulling as I start to come undone.

“Fuck Daddy! Y-You’re tongue! Mmm!”

I pant as I come down from my orgasm, Harry rubbing my thighs to soothe me.

“Up, baby. I’m not gonna wait anymore.”

My legs shaking, I scoot myself back down before I roll myself off of him to catch my breath. Before I catch my breath, Harry is already rolling on top of me, pinning my hands about my head.

“You know… We wouldn’t be so frustrated if you were on tour with me. Maybe I should just- put a baby in you. That way I can keep you with me. How’d you like that baby?”

My eyes widen and my mouth gapes.

“Y-You’re kidding. You want a baby?”

He nods and leans down, pecking my lips.

“I want a little you. And a little me. I want it with you, Y/N. Can I..?”

I bite my lip and I nod with a blush.

“Do it. Let’s have a baby.”

He smiles and kisses me fiercely. He moved his hand down to my clit and I grab his hand to stop him.

“Don’t. I don’t need it. I want it hard, Harry. I want you.”

He smirks and spanks my ass again. He lines his cock up with my clit, rubbing his tip against a few times before he pushes all the way in, hitting my g spot almost immediately.

“D-Daddy!”

He smirks and jerks his hips, causing me to cry out.

“That’s right baby. Gonna make me a daddy, aren’t you? Gonna look so perfect, big and round with my baby. You want that sweet girl?”

He starts thrusting at a steady pace, groaning as he thrusts.

“Fuck! Daddy! H-Harder!”

“Yeah baby? Think you can handle it? I can feel how close you are. Hold it for me, sweet girl. No coming until I do.”

He starts to thrust harder, hitting my g spot with every thrust.

“Gonna be such a good mumma, aren’t you baby? Gonna look so beautiful feeding our baby… God I get so hard even thinking about seein you nice and pregnant. Never gonna stop fuckin’ my sweet girl.”

He continues to thrust, going harder with each thrust when eventually, he starts to groan loudly and pant.

“Fuck Y/N! Baby! I’m gonna come! Come with me, baby! Come with daddy!”

I cry as I ride out my orgasm, clinging on to Harry as best I can as I feel him spill into me, burying himself deep inside.

“F-fuck… Harry…”

He pulls out and he keeps me in his arms, kissing my forehead a couple times and he cuddles me.

“I love you Y/N. So, so much. It’s just you and me.”

I smile and peck his cheek softly.

“Don’t you mean us three?”

He smiles devilishly and holds tightly onto me, knowing that it really was us. Just Harry, our baby and our future.

>>>———————————->

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[lovesickforhim]

He was staring at her in a way no one had in her entire life. She couldn’t read anything in his eyes - not surprise, not fear, not malicious intent - nothing. (wolfrry, werewolf!harry, alpha!harry, ranger!y/n)

Lupus Noctis- Masterlist, Author’s Note & Warnings

Chapter 11 / alternatively, read on wattpad

Chapter 12 (word count: 9k) -updated September 6

“So… did you figure it out, yet?”

Harry didn’t even have time to find it funny, “Why wouldn’t you have said anything to me? This is… What do I do? Does she know? She wouldn’t know yet, would she? I don’t think she knows… Niall, I don’t know how to handle something like this!”

Harry’s emotions were high. And for good reason. What he’d just seen had him shaken. And it also meant that she’d been turned against her will by a psychopath. He was glad he’d murdered James but this would always be a reminder of what had happened and who had done it.

He had been curious about a few little things. The first was obviously the speed at which she’d recovered and then there was her sudden spunk. Her heightened sense of smell was peculiar when she picked out that he was to be making eggs benedict, which should have tipped him off right away. How had she guessed? The sauce wasn’t something that most humans could pick out from a small leak in a jar in a bag full of other more fragrant groceries. 

“What happened that made you realize?”

“I saw her eyes turn golden. Just wish you’d said something.”

Niall had a hunch about her sudden natural reparative abilities, but he couldn’t be 100% sure at the time.“Harry, you have to understand, man. I didn’t say anything because it was either I was wrong or I was right and you’d figure it out anyway. It was better not to say anything if by chance she was just recovering in a way that doesn’t normally happen in humans. Sometimes things do happen that don’t make sense medically. I figured it was better to just wait and see.”

Harry paced, all the way to the furthermost corner of his expansive garden, outside of Y/N’s earshot. His towel tied tight around his waist as he ran his hands through his damp hair, “You could have at least given me a heads up. What do I do?”

Niall breathed out a laugh, “How should I know? I’m a medical doctor! I’m not cut out for emotional therapy. I’ve never dealt with anything like this. But you’ll figure it out.”

“I know. I just… how do I tell her?”

“Harry, again, I don’t know. We’re talking about a human that has been turned and I’m not familiar with all of this. It’s very unconventional. This kind of thing only happens in extremely rare cases and never in my life have I met a human that’s been turned. I’ve heard about it, just never known someone that it happened to. How has she been acting? What caused her eyes to change?”

Harry cleared his throat and looked up at his house, remembering to keep his voice down, “She’s been… very ready to do stuff. Awake. Wants to go for a swim. Is hungry. Um… a little bit bossy with me even.”

Niall hummed into the receiver, “Bossy… and what happened to have her eyes change?”

Harry could almost hear the cheek in his voice, “She was… I think maybe just excited. She’s been in a really good mood since I came back with groceries a bit ago.”

“Right… a good mood. Well, it’s doctor’s orders to take it easy on her. She might be… well… able to tolerate more, but… she’s still recovering. And so are you.”

A scoff fell from Harry’s lips, “Fine. No advice for me then?”

“Sorry, man. Never dealt with anything like this before. As you know, it’s exceptional that anyone would survive being bitten and getting turned. I just think that’s remarkable… The way you’ve been adamant she’s your mate, all this time. She really is your mate. Only your true mate could’ve survived turning for you.”

*

Y/N was onto Harry. She knew that he wasn’t running out to his car just to get something. Sure he ran out the front door but the way he reacted to her standing so close to him was a little out of character. Perhaps, she decided, that he was trying to “behave” and not push her into anything intimate. That made sense. She was still recovering from what she was told were deadly injuries. But that in itself was a mystery to her. She felt fine for the most part. 

She’d unpacked the groceries and left out the ingredients to make the eggs benedict when Harry was in the shower. But getting interrupted by the way he had groaned and then, the thing that had started to become a big question at the front of her mind, was his scent. It was his natural musk but she could smell him from all the way downstairs in the kitchen while he was in the shower. It was his groan, however, that had her feet carrying her upstairs to check on him. Just to see. 

She didn’t know why he’d suddenly become so timid with her. Why he was shying away from her. It was subtle but she noticed it. 

When he came back inside, dawning only the towel he tucked around his waist he slowed his movements as he saw her standing there with a knowing look on her face.

“What happened?”

Harry tilted his chin up to feign more confidence than he was feeling in her presence suddenly. It was as if he was looking at her with new eyes. She was like him now and her senses would pick apart the subtlest changes, “I thought I’d left the butter in the car. Wouldn’t have wanted it to melt.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him as he walked past her into the kitchen, “But you didn’t go to your car.”

Harry clenched his jaw and stopped in his tracks. It was going to be difficult to pretend he didn’t know what was going on but he wanted to wait a little longer before telling her in hopes of her figuring it out herself. Or, in any case, he needed to figure out a way to ease her into this. He didn’t want her to freak out, or be by herself when she did figure it out. But he needed time to process it himself; all he knew was that he couldn’t just blurt it out to her out of nowhere. 

He hated to have to go right back to keeping secrets from her again, especially such a huge one, and especially something that affected her directly. By some miracle he didn’t lose her, she was still there with him by choice, he just couldn’t handle losing her for good if she took to the news badly. Which she had every right to… just as much as she’d had every right to be as upset with him as she’d been just a little while back. He thought back then that he’d lost her for good. And now he had to prepare himself for the possibility of having his heart broken all over again.

The way he handled this was crucial. A wrong move and he could fuck it all up forever. He needed to tread carefully.

He looked at her with squinted eyes, “How do you know I didn’t check the car?”

Y/N paused. She had been feeling like her senses were somehow heightened. Her hearing, her sense of smell… She pondered his question as he continued walking into the kitchen. Looking at his broad shoulders and his back had her wishing he hadn’t run off when he did. 

“It’s kind of weird, you know… I’ve been, like, experiencing these weird things. I can hear so clearly and my sense of smell is…” she thought back to the panties she found but decided to keep that bit of information until the time was right, for later, “and I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s all in my head? I feel like maybe I should call Niall…”

Harry watched her carefully as she mulled over everything and he pulled out two eggs from the carton before she continued, “So when I couldn’t hear the car door, I guess I just assumed…”. She scoffed, hearing herself out loud. She sounded like a nutcase. Of course she wouldn’t be able to hear the car door all the way from upstairs. “Sorry. I’m being weird. But… right now I’m actually starving so if that butter made it alive let’s eat.”

Harry had Y/N heat the hollandaise while he prepared the rest of the ingredients. But she was clearly still mulling over their interaction upstairs. He noticed her eyes dragging down his bare chest and stopping at his crotch repeatedly. And he could tell she was not only hungry for food but she also had a bit of an appetite for something carnal as well. 

He cleared his throat when he turned to find her leaning on the island and watching him, “Gonna burn the sauce.”

Her grin was playful and Harry felt his blood heat up as she spoke, “Turned it off already. The lid will keep it warm.” She didn’t remove her gaze from him. She was making it very clear what she wanted and he wondered if she was aware of what she was doing or not. 

As much as he’d have loved to have bent her over the kitchen island and take care of his girl the way she needed he couldn’t allow that. Not until they at least had a real conversation. About what she’d seen. About how she was feeling. 

When she began to walk toward him she realized it was like something was just drawing her to him. She wanted to… what did she want? Breakfast was nearly ready and she was very hungry, and yeah, she wanted to eat but what she really wanted was to bite him. Just to nip his shoulder or his neck. His pecs. She didn’t know why her urge was so strong but the moment she was close enough to touch him Harry stood up straight and he looked away from her sultry gaze, “Uh, I’m just gonna go and get dressed and then we’ll eat.”

Breakfast was tasty. It was nourishing and filled her belly, mostly. She felt like she could eat more but Harry’s scent and his hands and his lips were distracting. And the way he kept keeping her at arm’s length had her feeling even more insatiable for him. She knew he was doing it because he was worried about hurting her but she was going to explode if he didn’t do something. 

Turning to face his pretty girl he nearly gave in right then and there, seeing the ravenous look in her eyes. He could practically read her mind, that’s how loud she was thinking those dirty thoughts. And he wanted to give in, he wanted to kiss her, hold her, feel her body against his. Taste her… He shook his head as he got off the stool and pulled himself away reluctantly, grabbing their dirty dishes.“Let’s go for a swim. Like you wanted. I think I know a great place. Secluded. Not in the preserve.” Harry rinsed the dishes as he spoke. He could feel her eyes burning into his back but he needed to keep moving, keep his thoughts from wandering too far. Distract her if he could. He felt he could use a swim himself. Get out some of his pent-up emotions and energy.

“That sounds great, actually,” she grinned and lifted herself up to sit on the counter next to where he was washing the dishes, “I feel like I need to move and exert some energy. A little exercise would be good I think. A swim.”

*

The drive to the new spot wasn’t as quick as it would have been if they’d driven to the preserve and parked and hiked up to their special hidden oasis. But they both knew they couldn’t go back there. Maybe ever. Y/N stopped herself from initiating conversation the whole drive there, and she could tell Harry was holding back, too. She just wasn’t quite ready to address all of that; she at least wanted to go for this swim first. That would hopefully make her feel a bit better. She felt absolutely fine apart from the fact she felt she didn’t fit into her own skin. She was aching to move, burn some energy off, and she suspected it was due to the fact that she was sexually frustrated.

Y/N decided to google her symptoms to pass the time quicker on their drive to this new, secluded place Harry had suggested. She was not quite understanding the way she was able to smell everything so clearly. She typed in sudden heightened sense of smell into the search bar. Scrolling through the various results and webmd articles she landed on something that might explain the strange phenomenon. 

Synesthesia could be the answer. It wasn’t uncommon for people that had gone through life-threatening injuries. She wasn’t 100% sure that was what was causing her to smell and hear things she would have never been able to before but at least it was some kind of answer. Something to ask Niall about when she did finally talk to him about all this.

Harry parked his car off the road and tucked away behind large pines and in the grass. It was miles from the preserve and in an area where the mountains were not protected or worked by the rangers. Some of it was privately owned land that hadn’t been touched in decades. 

“The swimming cove is a spot I used to come to when I had time to waste and wanted to venture away from the preserve.” Harry spoke as he grabbed her bag from her, putting it over his shoulder and began walking toward the fence that clearly meant the area was off limits. 

The overgrowth of vines and grass indicated that no one had been in these parts in a very long time. Which put Y/N at ease. She followed him, scaling the fence easily and trekking through the acreage close behind.

The upward hike was off trail and cumbersome but once they began making their way down into the valley from where they’d hiked Y/N saw the ridges of the mountain and a level area below with a ravine.

“Your sense of direction is astonishing,” she commented as they carefully trekked down toward where they could hear the water flowing, “But I guess that makes sense, doesn’t it? You’re a…” she stopped just before she could say the word. She still had to get used to that idea. That he was a werewolf. Part human, part beast. 

Harry turned to look at her, stopping his pace suddenly as he raised his brows at her, “A werewolf? Is that what you were going to say?”

Nodding her head she shrugged, “Yeah. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to be called that. Or… I don’t know. Is it okay to say it?”

The gentle smile that took over his features told her it was, though he didn’t respond to her question with words. 

Looking down to the sandy portion of the ravine Harry pointed, “Just there. It’s beautiful once you see it from the ground. Come on.”

Y/N was wearing her hiking boots while Harry was in his signature chelsea boots, making the descent to the cove look like child’s play. She was now hyper aware of why he was so good at hiking and trekking and staying steady even in such posh shoes. Everything that had suddenly come to light about what he really was had answered so many questions for her. 

But the moment they were standing in the wet sand before the cove where the ravine led, all her thoughts about what Harry was had vanished. Another breathtaking spot with not a single human soul to be seen.

Harry placed their bags on the rocks to keep them dry and began to take his boots off as he watched Y/N curiously. He had been careful not to allow her to over exert herself but she was easily keeping up with him and she seemed fine. She was fine. Her heartbeat was steady and strong, her body had barely broken out in a sweat and she had a wide smile on her face as she looked around.

“Harry, this is… it’s perfect!” She was eager to move her limbs in the cool water. Feel the weightlessness take over and play around with Harry.

She looked over at him as he was undressing, taking his clothes off, his boots already on the rocks next to the bags. So she followed suit. Taking her own boots off and peeling her pants down her legs. 

Harry was already jumping into the water by the time Y/N had stuffed her shirt onto the pile of clothes. Looking down over her body she did see the awful scar. The wound was healed but the remnants of what had happened was obvious. She hesitated to remove her bra as she brushed a hand over the raised skin.

“Everything okay?” Harry called to her. She looked out toward him, handsome with wet hair as he came in closer to her. 

“Yeah. Just… saw this and…” she ran her fingers from the top of her clavicle downward over the scar to under her breast, “I guess I feel lucky to even be alive. Here with you.”

She kept her eyes on his as she unhooked the back of her bra and removed it. 

Harry watched her as she bent down and took her panties off. He was already hard just seeing her bare body but the scar across her chest kept him in check. She was still recovering. Still figuring out what was going on. 

The somber moment was suddenly over the moment she jumped into the water next to Harry and began to laugh. The water was frigid but it felt fantastic. Normally she would feel discomfort but right now her body was adjusting to it just fine, feeling invigorated and alive.

Stretching her limbs in the water she ducked her head under to swim closer to Harry and grasped his wrist.

Harry pulled her up and she tugged his arm around herself. Both grinning ear to ear with the closeness. He was just glad she was feeling playful. That she wasn’t upset or hurt by what had happened. At least in that moment she wasn’t. He knew she’d have lots of questions for him. Knew they needed to have a conversation but for now the light hearted moment was the only thing he could focus on. And her warm skin against his.

She was more than just playful though. She was horny and Harry knew it. Having her naked in the cool water of a private cove in the mountains was risky. Because he was turned on too. And he knew he was asking for trouble with this scenario. It evoked memories of their time together at the oasis in the preserve.

He could resist her for only so long. She was laying it on thick in his house during breakfast and now with his clothes off and his obvious erection it would be even harder to resist her. 

Harry pulled his arm away and began to swim backwards, gliding through the water smoothly, putting some distance between himself and the girl. 

“Where are you going?” She laughed and began to swim toward him slowly.

Harry shook his head and feigned innocence, “What do you mean? Just swimming is all,” he bit the inside of his cheek to tamper the playful grin on his face.

Instead of continuing after him she decided she’d lure him to her. She ducked under the water again, kicking her feet out and splashing as she maneuvered under the water before surfacing, bouncing out just enough that her breasts were visible to him. 

She watched him closely as she pushed herself back and stretched her arms to float at the surface. The tranquility of having her ears tucked under the water, muffling all the sounds that surrounded them, and floating in the mountain chilled water on her back was just like being back at her oasis. She smiled to herself and peeked an eye at Harry. To her delight, he was already watching her closely.

His eyes were clearly taking in her soft breasts with tightened nipples perking above the water. She wouldn’t tease him too much but she wanted his hands on her. Wanted his attention. Wanted him to give in to her. She knew what he was doing. Knew he was trying to keep his distance because she needed to heal. But that just made her want him more. His gentlemanly and thoughtful attempts to keep her healthy and the way he was doing it because he cared for her. Denying himself something she knew he wanted as a way of protecting her. 

Harry decided to peel his eyes from her body and float on his back too. He needed to straighten out his thoughts and get his mind out of the gutter. He closed his eyes and tried to train his dirty thoughts away. He knew his body was calling him to take care of his natural urges with his mate. And now that she was like him… she was very likely made exactly for him in every way. 

But he couldn’t just act on his desires. He didn’t want to hurt her and he was sure if they did have sex she’d display even more evidence of being like him and that could scare her. If she somehow dropped her fangs in the middle of her orgasm or her claws came out while he was pounding into her – yeah, his thoughts weren’t helping. All of that sounded absolutely delightful and he’d love to feel her fangs puncture into his skin, or have her claw up his back and chest. 

“Harry,” he heard her voice speak his name and he popped his eyes open, dropping the lower half of his body back into the water and letting his toes scrape along the rocky sand.

She saw the way his erection was bobbing just above the water every time his chest inhaled and he floated upward the tiniest bit. And then his eyes on hers were dark. She could almost hear his heart pounding in his chest, not unlike her own wildly pumping heart.

Something in her decided to cut the shit. She was feeling bold. Feeling like he wanted exactly what she wanted and as nice as it was to be cared for and protected by him she wanted him to fuck her. She wanted him to hold her in his arms and to give himself to her once and for all. 

“Stop this,” she spoke matter-of-factly as she swam around his body. “I can see clearly how affected you are by me.” 

Touching his shoulder she moved her finger down over his tattoos and to his pecs, thumbing at his nipple and watching his eyes, “I’m okay. Really. You don’t have to keep holding off and denying yourself, Harry.” She moved herself in front of him and draped her arms over his shoulders.

Without another thought, Harry’s hands moved down to her waist as he pulled her in closer to him, “I want you healthy is all. And I think we have a lot to talk about.”

Nodding her head she agreed. That was true. They needed to talk. But something inside of her needed something physical. She needed it to uncloud her brain and give her some kind of clarity. She couldn’t explain it, she just knew she needed it. More than a talk. As important as that was, she was sure she wouldn’t ever be able to focus on anything he told her if he didn’t fuck her first.

“Yes. We will talk. But I don’t know how to explain the way I feel in this moment, how much I need you.” She bit her lip and pushed her hips to his, his cock firm on her thigh, “It’s kind of painful actually.”

Harry could feel her warm against his prick as he looked down to see her breasts grazing against his chest. Painful? Yes, perhaps she was feeling that natural physical urge to release just like he was. That’s how it was for his kind, though he was used to it. Used to the pain of holding off and not allowing himself to indulge right away. She was not used to the way it felt. The ache that wasn’t just from being horny. It was something deep and raw. A biological and natural instinct his kind, their kind possessed. 

He knew the pain well. Knew it could be pushed down and she’d be okay. But she was new to all this. And even with the water around them he could smell how intensely she needed him. Needed him to soothe her. And he was the only one that could provide that for her too. He knew that even if she masturbated she wouldn’t be fully comforted. It would pacify her for a bit. Maybe an hour but she wouldn’t be fulfilled. She wasn’t going to feel better until he took care of her. But he needed to be careful. 

“I think you need to recover first, kitten.” Harry let the little nickname he’d given her so long ago slip out. Or maybe he’d done it on purpose. There was something about her that was feeding into his own urges. She was drawing them out of him with just her eyes. The change in her was so deep and it tangled with his own impulses and senses that he could barely think straight. He was more drawn to her than he’d ever been and he knew it was because of the change. Because she was like him now. His perfect match. 

“Harry,” she spoke softly as she kept her eyes on his, a hand moving over his warm chest, “I trust you. I know you would never hurt me and I can tell you need it too. You need me just as much.”

She could just sense his need. And it wasn’t just the fact that he had an erection. She knew it before all that. She felt it back at his house. Something between them had shifted and it was as if she could anticipate his needs without him having to tell her or show her.

His teeth ached to kiss her and to bite her. A carnal and spiritual feeling overwhelmed him. His willpower was incredible but there was only so much he could take. He was as weak as any man and her wolf was luring his out to play. Perhaps he could be gentle. She needed him. She needed him. 

He grasped the back of her head and his lips found her mouth. The kiss was hot and electric  and wild. She lifted a thigh up to his hip and he used his free hand to keep it in place, pasting their hips together.

The whimper that fell from his mouth had her grinning and feeling powerful. She grasped onto his shoulders and let the weightlessness of the water aid her in lifting her other leg to wrap around his hips. Harry groaned and brought his other hand down to keep her thighs held up in place.

Their naked bodies were in sync as he began to walk her out of the water and to the small spot where the sand met the craggy rocks. He’d take care of her. Make love to her gently and soothe her ache. Soothe his own ache. 

Their mouths never parted as he walked out of the water and carefully placed her down into the sand, his knees falling into the granules as he put himself between her thighs. With her legs open he could smell her in a way that was overwhelming. He groaned and licked into her mouth before parting from the kiss with a gasp.

The scar on her chest and over her neck had him filled with jealousy and hatred. He was glad he’d killed James for even placing a finger on his girl. His lips pressed over her scar just above her breast and she ran her fingers into his long hair as he pecked wet kisses along the skin that had been forever marred. 

“I’m going to make it better,” he whispered between kisses, “Make you feel whole again. Give you everything you need. Show you what it means to be mine…”

She closed her eyes and threw her head back as his mouth worked upward slowly and over the skin on her neck. His tongue laved softly and his lips grazed over the sensitive spots that were still healing. She had never felt such need before in her life. Sure she’d been horny before and had never been more turned on by anyone the way she was with Harry. But this was different. Something else was at play and she didn’t have the mind to dwell on it. She only knew that she needed him.

“Please…” she breathed out her plea as his warm mouth soothed her flesh and his nose nudged at her jaw.

“Hurts doesn’t it?” He continued kissing every inch of her scar as he pushed her back down into the sand, “I’m the only one that can make it better.”

She knew it was true. Whatever was happening in her could only be quieted by him.

Nodding her head she spread her legs further, hoping he’d put her out of her misery and fuck her into oblivion, “Harry, please…”

He looked down over her soft body and the scars, and felt emotions rise in his heart. He hated James even in his death, but he was beyond grateful that she was still his. That she was alive. He would worry later about the guilt and the real issue at hand. His own urges and her excruciating need were beckoning to be dealt with immediately. He could practically feel the ache in her body. Her tummy was emanating heat and he felt bad that she was in such pain. She wasn’t used to this level of arousal and need yet. She would learn to deal with it eventually but for now he would give her relief.

Her cry of pleasure was loud, echoing off the rocks of the cove that surrounded them as he placed his mouth on her throbbing pussy, already pulsing and clenching and dripping. 

The sting of her fingers pulling at his hair had him growling into her with delight. He could tell she was urging him in harder but he was going to resist doing anything hard or painful. That would come later. When he was certain she was ready for it. 

His tongue was wide and flat as he tugged it up and down her slick cunt. She was so wet he was certain he couldn’t possibly lick it all up and the flavor was just like before but now it tasted truly nourishing to him. He held her thighs apart gently as he dove into her like she was a meal. Licking and sucking at her bits. 

She writhed and moaned, her hips lifting off the sand and bucking into his face making him nearly lose his grip on her thighs. She was strong. He shouldn’t have been surprised but he was still getting used to the notion that she was like him now. 

“Fuck… yes…” she cooed loudly as his scalp was on fire from the way she was yanking his hair.

Harry didn’t lift his mouth to chuckle or respond and taunt her like he wanted. He needed to make her come so he kept his lips at work on her pussy.

When he began to kiss her clit and pull at it with the smallest nip she squealed and cried out his name as her thighs attempted to close around his head. He held her down but he didn’t want to hurt her so he moved his palms up to grip the underside of her knees to keep her legs pressed down.

She continued bucking as her muscles tensed and her moans grew louder. His nose and mouth and chin were shiny and sticky with her as he rubbed his nose into her clit and stuck his tongue into the opening and past her little muscle, the slick gushing noises the only  background sound to her gasps and soft pants.

Harry was feeling his own cock leak and throb. Just tasting her and knowing how good he was making her feel was putting him on edge. He swallowed down her arousal and took a gasp of breath before putting his face back into her cunt for more.

She’d never felt it like this before. Something far more intense was happening in her body and she didn’t know if it was because it was her first orgasm since she nearly died or just knowing that Harry was a werewolf and he was probably enjoying the taste of her in a way she never realized before. That all those times he’d told her how much he liked her scent and her taste, he wasn’t just saying it to make her feel good, he actually meant it. Or just knowing that he was a werewolf in general… probably all of the above. 

When her orgasm snapped over her body she tightened her grip on his hair he grunted into her pussy in pain, but it didn’t stop him from lapping at her and sucking her clit. She was shaking so hard and pulling at his hair so tight that he was having a hard time moving his mouth over her the way he wanted. Instead, she was moving his face over her soft crease and clit the way she wanted. 

Her cries were loud. It almost sounded as if someone was hurting her. Like she was wailing in pain and anguish. Harry understood that this was because of her intense need to release. Her first release as a werewolf by the hands of her lover. Her mate. He rolled his eyes into the back of his head in ecstasy of his own. He’d not come but he could. His own cock was neglected and hot and if he allowed it, he’d come all over himself and the sand below. But he wanted to come inside of her. He wanted to feel her around him and he knew she was going to want it. 

The part of him that wanted to wait and to talk first was already a distant memory left back in his kitchen. His instincts and his wolf had taken over at that moment.

He felt her release his hair as she sighed, wiggling underneath him.

Y/N grabbed at him, pulling him up and over her, “Want you inside me, right now. Do it while I’m still pulsing around nothing.”

Harry was beyond trying to fight this, eating her out had driven him over the edge. He was determined to give her everything she wanted and luckily for him, it was exactly what he wanted as well. The way she’d clawed at him to get him on top of her made him feral, he wondered if she was realizing the amount of force she’d just exerted in doing so, but he couldn’t dwell on it for too long, not when he looked down at her and she looked like she was going to howl with how much she wanted it. 

She yanked him against her lips and devoured his mouth, licking her arousal off of him and humming profusely, and in turn, Harry didn’t waste a single moment longer before sinking himself into her juicy cunt. The cry she let out was akin to an injured wolf’s and he knew he wasn’t hurting her, she was just giving in to her natural instincts now. That of letting him dominate her completely. 

He pulled back a bit to watch her and when she opened her eyes and her golden irises flashed at him he groaned loudly, allowing his own to take over. Her mouth fell agape and she reached to push his hair out of his face to take him all in better while he slowly but steadily fucked into her. “Harry… your eyes. They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful. You’re exactly who and what you should be, I’m so damn lucky,” she rolled her eyes to the back of her head in ecstasy and Harry thought his heart was going to burst at the amount of love he felt for her. 

He didn’t know how it was possible he now loved her even more than before, but being wanted and loved for exactly who he was turned out to be a lot more important to him than he’d thought it would be. He thought he could hide this side of him from her forever and be fine with it, and he’d have done it gladly to keep her. But having it all out into the open and her so accepting of it was something he’d never even allowed himself to hope for. 

Well, almost everything out into the open. And god, was she beautiful too. She’d always been, of course, but now that she was like him it did things to him he couldn’t even explain. And it looked so right, so natural. Like she was always meant to be a werewolf. He couldn’t wait to watch her discover everything and come into her own completely. He only wished she’d accept it and embrace it fully.

He was snapped out of his reverie when she nipped at his neck and that only made him drive into her more urgently. Noting it had stung a bit too much, his eyes landed on her mouth and he could see her pointy canines pinching her plump lower lip, a bit of blood coating it.

The sight made him almost come then and there, making him moan and slow his pace a bit to regain focus. As much as he wanted to drag it out and go at it for hours, he needed to milk another orgasm from her and hopefully satiate her craving for a bit, because this was rapidly escalating and getting out of hand. She was completely giving into her natural instincts; and if she noticed any of the signs she was presenting she’d freak out and that was not the way he wanted her to find out.

He flipped her over as though she weighed nothing, not having to hide his natural strength from her anymore and began pounding into her in earnest. He was close, so close, and he knew she was too with how she moaned and whimpered and called out his name repeatedly. But he didn’t want to knot into her just yet, he first needed to explain that to her, plus this wasn’t really the setting for it, he wanted to be able to cuddle with her like that in his expensive bedding back at home, not on this rocky terrain that was sure to leave some bruises on her as it was. He knew she could take it now, he’d of course never have allowed it had she still been just human, but even so, she was recovering, and he didn’t want her feeling any discomfort. 

“Please come inside me, Harry. I don’t care. I need it... I can’t explain how much–fuck, how much I need it.”

She needn’t have worried, she wasn’t in heat (yet), so it wasn’t risky like that, but of course she’d worry about getting pregnant. Yet another reason why he needed to find a way to tell her, to avoid all the unnecessary worry on her part. For now, though, he was going to enjoy spilling into her warm cunt, because he needed it just as much. His eyes caught glimpse of her hands she’d rested her smushed cheek against, and her sharp nails were on display. Her much sharper nails. He couldn’t wait for her to claw at his back using them soon, but right now he needed to make sure she didn’t notice them. He grabbed her by her elbows and pulled her back against him, holding her hands behind her back with one arm and snaking the other to her front, finding her clit as he kept thrusting into her from this new angle.

She was already on edge and it only took her a few moments to reach her peak, crying out and letting her head fall back against his shoulder. The sight of the mark on her neck that she probably didn’t even notice wasn’t lost on him though, that was something that would always taunt him, knowing it was someone else’s bite that marked her. But he could claim it as his now, because she was, she was his. It was his cock she was pulsing around, his arms she was falling back into, his name she was whimpering- and so he allowed himself to bite over her mark as he finally gave in to his most primal urge- that of claiming her completely, while he let go and finally filled her up to the brim.

She didn’t even feel the sting of it, she was that far gone; if anything, it was pleasurable for her- as it should be. And for Harry? It was the hardest he’d ever come in his life. His fangs deep into her delicate neck and his cock even deeper into her perfect pussy, she was made just for him, and now she was his in every sense of the word.

With breaths heaving and soft gasps, Harry kept her tight against his chest. He wanted to tell her everything. Wanted so much for her to know what he was thinking. What had just happened to her. What she could expect and that it would only get better and better. If she thought that was intense…

And it was. She didn’t know how to describe the ecstasy, the relief… But it was more than just physical. Everything in and around her felt lighter and more lovely. She was happier than she’d ever been, she felt. She had a sudden urge to run and play; something she hadn’t felt in many years. It was as if being with Harry, everything just made more sense.

With a laugh she wiggled out of his arms and ran back into the water, diving in and swimming out toward the middle, only emerging with a sharp inhale for breath when her lungs needed air.

Harry couldn’t help but look at her in awe. His heart throbbed in his chest with love for her. 

“Come on! Get back in!” Y/N shouted and began to glide through the water.

Shaking his head with a laugh he walked back into the icy water and then dove under to meet her in the center of the small cove. 

She kept her eyes on the water, waiting for him to emerge but she felt his hand on her ankle before she saw him. With a yelp, she laughed and ducked under to pull at him.

Harry wrapped his arms around her body and pushed them both upward to the surface together. The lighthearted moment suddenly halted as they kept their gazes locked. Y/N moved her arms over his shoulders and drew her face in close to his, brushing their noses together, “I’m so glad I’m here with you. I’m glad I’m alive. I’m glad you’re alive. I don’t know what I would have done. I thought I lost you and that’s the last thing I remember before…” she paused, feeling herself get emotional she swallowed her tears, “It just feels like… destiny to be here with you.”

He could feel and hear her heart beating in her chest and he knew she could feel his do the same. It was as if his whole life had all been leading him to this moment. He knew that this woman was his mate. He’d always known it. Maybe ever since the first night he laid eyes on her in the woods all that time ago. Despite the fact that she had a gun pointed at him, there was just something about her. Something that he knew was different. He belonged to her before he ever met her. 

“I’m so glad you’re here too. That we’re here together,” he looked down at her beautiful face as he continued, “I was ready to kill everyone when I thought you weren’t going to make it. Niall said there was no hope. That it was… too late for you,” he inhaled a shaky breath remembering the state she was in just days ago.

“Tell me about what happened. Everything I don’t know about, before, and after the fight. I want to know what happened.”

Harry began to describe the day he was taken and how he’d been outnumbered. He told her why it’d come down to that, about James’ and Irina’s involvement, the way the elders didn’t listen to him having already made up their minds and weren’t going to give him a fair trial.

But with Y/N’s quick thinking and by her reaching out to Niall a chain of events was set off that actually helped matters. 

“Lester is a pack leader too, as you know now. The Pack of the Western Plains. He has connections all over. He’s very well respected. So, with his resources he made it so that there was a trial at the very least.”

“And Eddie too? He was there.” She said, remembering the events of that day. 

“Yes. He was finally able to shift back into his human form. Because of you,” Harry brought a hand up to her face and gently brushed his knuckles over her temple.“I expected that no matter how the trial ended there would be a fight to the death. And I was certain that no matter how many drugs they’d given me or that they’d left me without food and water that I would be able to do away with James rather easily. But I was weakened. Significantly. It’s the only reason he even had the chances he did. It’s why he got in a few good tears. Had I been in my normal shifted state he would have never been able to penetrate my skin and I would have killed him within the first thirty seconds. And he knew that. So did everyone else.”

“They all let you fight like that? Did your pack not respect you as their alpha?”

Harry sighed and nodded, “They never respected me. They were always very rigid in their beliefs. They preferred the old ways of doing things. Most packs nowadays are more open and lenient. There are still strict rules we have to follow but tolerance is practiced these days. Not my pack… my old pack.” 

“Are you worried they’ll come back and try to hurt you?” 

Putting his arms around her low back protectively he pressed his forehead to hers, “I am. I’m worried they’ll try to hurt you too.”

“Even though you’ve given up the pack? And you won the fight?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t put it past them. I’ll do anything I can to protect you,” Harry paused and leaned back to look at Y/N again, “Which is why I think it would be good for us to visit Lester and Alma at the farm for a while. Get away from here for a bit. Just until we can get our bearings and heal.”

The smile on her face gave Harry relief. He wasn’t sure she’d be up for it, but she’d been surprising him since she woke up from her coma. 

“That sounds like a really good idea. I’d love to spend more time with Eddie too.”

His heart continued to lob in his chest wildly. She was more than perfect for him in every way. He couldn’t contain his joy to have her in his arms, “He’d love that. Edward is very fond of you. And he was there, at Niall’s practice. With all of us while you were in that bed. He was devastated.”

Y/N nodded and felt awful about putting anyone through such distress. She knew it wasn’t her fault but she could imagine what it would have been like to watch a friend or lover unconscious in bed and not know if they’d come out of it or not.

“... And you? How did you deal with me being in that bed?”

Harry shook his head and let his eye contact falter for a moment as he thought back to how completely ruined he felt, “Felt like I would die if you didn’t make it. Like I couldn’t breathe or eat. I talked to you all day. Kept myself close by your side and encouraged you to wake up. Made sure you were comfortable in the bed even though I knew you couldn’t really feel anything. I didn’t know what to do. Niall kept telling me it was impossible–” Harry inhaled a sharp breath and tried to calm his emotions but his eyes began to fill with tears with just the memory of how utterly hopeless everything felt. 

“Hey,” Y/N moved her hands to cup Harry’s face, “I’m right here. And I’m very much alive. We both are. I’m not going anywhere. You saved me.” 

Swallowing his tears he blinked and forced the smallest smile, “And you saved me. If it weren’t for you I would be dead right now.”

Y/N leaned in to kiss the gorgeous werewolf. She couldn’t believe she’d gotten so lucky to have him in her life. That he wanted her. She only felt more connected, in tune with him. It was as if the accident had altered something in her soul. She was changed. She figured it was love.

Harry pinched her hip softly and pulled away from the kiss. He couldn’t help it. He needed to be honest with her. He’d told her his truth when she was asleep but now that she was wide awake and in his arms he knew he had to say it that very moment or he’d suffocate, “I love you, Y/N.”

Her lips parted at his admission and she was suddenly aware of her body against his and the way his heart was rapidly throbbing in his chest at the same pace as her own. She felt as if she’d heard him say it to her before. That this wasn’t the first time. 

She gripped his biceps tight and felt herself shiver at the intensity of his bright green eyes. He loved her. He truly did and she felt it deep in her spirit. Without a doubt, he loved her.

“Harry, I love you too. So much,” she gasped as he squeezed her tight to his chest and felt him purring against her own. The comfort that brought to her was consuming. She sighed and held him tight, her cheek smushed into his shoulder.

Everything around them was dizzy and soft. She was safe in his arms. She was safe with her lover. 

When he pulled back a bit and let his head fall back, inhaling sharply and then howling loudly, Y/N gasped in excitement and couldn’t hold back her tears of joy. She smiled widely looking at Harry in his element, expressing happiness freely and it made her own heart flutter. He looked back at her, his wide smile matching her own, the echo of his wolfish howl still resounding in the clove, and she’d never seen him look happier. 

She’d done that. Just by loving him. 

The sudden vibrating in her own chest startled her. She looked up at Harry whose eyes were wide as he looked down at her. 

“Harry– what…?” She looked down at her bare body, putting a small bit of distance between herself and Harry. The vibrating stopped suddenly as she put a hand up to her chest and looked into the crystal water surrounding them and reflecting the sky above and both their faces. 

But then she stilled completely, the ripples on the surface cleared away and she focused on the features of her face, being mostly drawn to the bright golden irises staring back at her in the reflection of the water.

In stunned silence she looked up at Harry before looking back into the water again.

He knew it was only a matter of time. He just hadn’t expected it to happen like this.

A/N: (@fkinavocado and @gurugirl here) The long awaited update is here! Thank you for sticking with us! 

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[lovesickforhim]

Film Bro

WC: 3.6k

warning(s): afab descriptions and she/her pronouns, language, sexual content (dry humping, somno (so dubcon just to be safe; please only read what you're comfortable with!!)

“And that’s why I fully believe that movies are better than books.” Harry finishes his lengthy tangent with a deep breath. He looks over at your bored face and a beat passes before you both burst into laughter at how he’s managed to turn such a frivolous topic into such a serious and longwinded rant. 

“You’re ridiculous and wrong.” You shoot back, offering him a close-lipped grin to soften the blow. 

You and Harry have always had differing opinions, but somehow, you’ve still managed to become really close friends. You’re always bickering and getting into little spats over stupid things, but you still love him. He makes you laugh and he makes you feel loved and warm, everything you’d want in a friend. And you know what they say, opposites do attract. 

His arm is slung around you, and both of you are sat down on his cozy couch as he tries to offer up a rebuttal to your rebuttal and all you do is roll your eyes and pretend to tune him out. 

“You’ve got to understand, love. With books, you read it, yeah? And if you’ve got no imagination, what does that do for you? With movies, you can see, feel, hear everything. It’s so much more immersive and touching when you can see everything happening right in front of you.” His arms leave your shoulder so he can use his hands to talk, animatedly explaining to you why he believes you’re so wrong. He looks at your face for a second, when your features start to soften he smirks and points at you excitedly, “See I’m converting you! And you know I’m right.” He leans back with a smug grin. 

You just shrug, “You can think whatever you want, film bro. But I know that books are the most immersive experience on earth. There is nothing like reading words on a page and feeling them hit you with every letter. The good part about books is that even if that author doesn’t completely spell it out for you, you can create a piece of that world yourself, something that’ll always be yours to have and to cherish. Nobody else’s.” 

He looks up to the ceiling in thought, twisting his lips like he’s considering it. You think you’ve got him until he suddenly perks up and opens his mouth to speak, “Ah, but like I said, the imagination thing. Can’t do any of that if I’ve got a shit imagination.” That smug smirk is back on his face and you roll your eyes. Guess he can win this round. You’re so incredibly tired from work anyway and you just shrug which causes him to let out a small sound of victory. 

“And I am right again…as always.” He flashes you his signature smirk and you grab a pillow from behind you and smack him hard with it. 

“Dickwad.” you murmur. 

“Hey!” he chokes out a laugh, grabbing the pillow from your hands and placing it behind him instead, “You’ve lost your privileges, sweet girl.” He chuckles softly because he knows you hate when he calls you that. 

He brings his hand out to motion to the TV in front of you and then swings his arm right back around your shoulder, “see. Look at this.” He instructs. You’ve almost forgotten a movie was playing with how into the debate you’ve gotten with him. The scene on the TV flashes in your eyes, a couple making out hungrily and desperately. 

The male actor is pawing at every piece of his co-star’s skin that he can find, and with every touch, her breath hitches and her leg hikes higher up on his waist. They kiss like this is the last time they’ll be able to. The soft moans and grunts coming from the scene make your pupils blow out and your chest tighten. Your thighs push together softly and you curse your body’s inability to stay in control. 

Harry raises his eyebrows and gives you a slow once over with an amused smirk on his lips, “a book ever make you feel like that? This fast?” You know he’s only teasing you, but you’re so immersed in the scene that you can’t even find it in you to care when you shake your head. 

“This is exactly what I mean. A book might describe a touch, but actually seeing it, seeing him touch her like that, seeing how she’s enjoying it, how she reacts to it, that’s just cinema. Can’t find that feeling anywhere else.”

His voice has lowered in volume and timbre to match the intimacy of the scene you’re both watching, and you’re suddenly hyper-aware of how close he’s gotten to you and how ridiculously loud those moans are. And if you weren’t a little turned on and a lot confused, you would laugh at it. 

You become even more hyper-aware of his fingers on your shoulder, caressing softly, the slightest touch, and you have no idea why it’s making you feel hot. His calloused fingers somehow feel light and gentle as a feather when he traces his index finger on your shoulder. And he just keeps going. As if it’s nothing. As if it’s not driving you crazy. 

You wonder if he knows what he’s doing. You’ve always known Harry to be touchy, but right now? It feels different, or maybe you’re feeling different. You don’t know, but it’s currently driving you a little crazy. That imagination you were so keen on before is really coming back to bite you in the ass when you start imagining the female lead to be you and the male lead to be…Harry.  

And what even brought this on? He’s always been attractive, yes, but these thoughts racing through your head, that’s more than an acknowledgment of attractiveness. 

He says your name softly, looking down at you curiously. You look up at him and latch on to the concerned look in his eyes, “you’re so quiet. What’s the matter? Mad I won again?” You can’t even fight the smile that graces your face and he mirrors you with a smile of his own. 

“Haha.” you deadpan. “You literally wish.” A soft chuckle leaves him followed by a sigh. He knows you like the back of his hand. And he knows that you’re both kind of turned on and very exhausted, so he expertly takes control of the situation and pats your shoulder softly, “you sleeping over tonight?” 

You nod softly, and he grunts as he tries to maneuver you up off of the couch, “come on. That’s it.” You really play into the damsel in distress bit (like you always do when he offers to take you to bed) and you let him lead your tired body to his bedroom. 

He sets you down on his bed and snorts when you let your body flop onto the mattress. “I’m gonna have a shower. I know you’re gonna be passed out by the time I get back, so goodnight. Dream of really nice sex scenes. Like the one that’s got you so turned on right now—” He can barely finish his sentence before another pillow is being hurled at him. 

“Okay! Okay, I’m sorry, Jesus. Gotta tie your hands together or something.” he speaks through a laugh. You just shoot him a bored look and he rolls his eyes and leans down to press a delicate kiss to your forehead. 

“Night, sweet girl.” 

You don’t even remember falling asleep, but you remember Harry getting into bed. The world-class cuddler’s arms were immediately wrapped around you after he got comfortable. 

You figure it’s been about two hours when you start to stir. That’s always been a thing with you, waking up in the middle of the night and falling right back asleep. Harry usually lulls you back to sleep with a gentle forehead kiss and a tighter cuddle. You sleep much better when you stay over at his place. All feels right in the world when you’re in Harry’s arms. Something about him makes anyone he touches immediately feel at home. You cuddle up closer to him innocently, and he mumbles out your name. 

You figure he must just be trying to coax you back to sleep, so you nod, barely awake, and drift back off into the comfortable safe haven that is sleeping next to a human angel. 

Harry, on the other hand, is also in heaven. Just a different kind. 

He’s fully immersed in a dream where you’re the object of all his desires, standing in front of him in a get-up that’s so sinful and alluring it’s got him begging for you to let him touch the masterpiece that is your body. 

You tease him and torture him until he can’t take it anymore, trailing your hands across his soft skin, kissing his neck and his jaw, leaving marks that he knows will give him flashbacks of how you ruined him when he sees them tomorrow. 

“God, please, sweet girl. Let me have you.” he’s begging. And Harry is definitely not one to beg, you’ve reduced him to a puddle of need, grasping at any part of you that he can get. 

“Wouldn’t be much of a punishment if I did though, right?” You pout at him with faux sympathy dripping from your voice and expression like venom. He groans deeply again when you palm his clothed bulge, rubbing the slightest bit to where he gets stimulation, but not what he needs. 

His breath hitches as you press harder for a moment before letting off, and then bringing your hand back to his bulge. He chokes out a soft groan, willing himself to endure your cruel punishment so he can have what he craves so badly.

“I’ve been s’good for you, baby. Don’t fuckin’ deserve this,” he whines out his words, desperate to the point that he has no shame in losing himself for you, in you. “I’ll do anything for you, sweet girl. Please.” His heart pounds, his eyes frantically searching yours for any sign of mercy. 

His hips start to thrust up in tandem with your soft rubbing, frankly unable to control himself with how absolutely ruined you’ve got him. His voice starts to shatter when he speaks and his eyes squeeze shut when you swing your legs around his hips and sit comfortably on his lap. 

He looks up at you with that fucked out, ruined expression and you pout at him again, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging just the way that he likes. Your hips move slowly against him like you’re testing the waters, and he immediately copies your movements, taking anything he can get from you, whining deeply in the back of his throat. He knows he’s leaking in his boxers and it would take nothing for him to explode right now. 

You’re just so fucking sexy. Everything about you is like a tease to him. Your voice, your soft touch, that expression you make when you beat him in a debate, the expression you’re making right now as you take what’s rightfully yours. His cheeks flame a rosy pink as he looks up at you, his pupils blown and his cock throbbing with need.

His head rolls back as your hips start to meet faster, eyes heavy-lidded. He looks back up at you with a plead swimming in his irises, his hands balled into fists to avoid doing something he knows he shouldn’t. Your hips move faster and faster and faster….

He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, his hips rutting needily, but slowly against your ass. His arms are still wrapped around you as he pulls you closer into him, his abs flexing as he uses your body to relieve the deep pressure in his gut. 

Small moans and whimpers leave his lips, occasionally your name. Both of you are still fast asleep as he works himself into an absolute frenzy, his face is buried in your neck, shaky puffs of breath hitting your skin. Images of him worshipping your body and the feeling of that delicious friction on his throbbing cock are all that his brain can register right now. 

The feeling of your soft cotton shorts and your supple ass consumes him as he trembles gently with every thrust, his cock sensitive from the slow teasing game his body is inflicting on him. What was once soft sighs, turn to slightly louder, more needy sounds. He mumbles and slurs out incoherent words through his bliss, probably some variation of what he’s saying to you in his dream.

It’s not even the movement that wakes you, it’s those sounds, those unabashed needy little noises that he’s making. Your eyes fly open and a small gasp rips through your throat and you register three things at once. 

Harry’s the one making those sounds. 

Harry’s arms are wrapped tightly around you as he rubs himself against your ass. 

And your thighs are sticky and warm with your arousal. 

Your first instinct is to freak out a little, considering you’ve just woken up to one of your closest friends getting themselves off on you. But then you turn your head around the slightest bit and you realize, he’s still asleep. 

The poor baby’s worked himself up somehow and doesn’t even realize what he’s doing, doesn’t realize how needy he is. His face wears a tortured expression, his eyebrows arched and pushed tightly together. The desperate soft sounds continue to leave his slightly parted lips and all you can think about in this moment is how much you want to kiss his lips, soft and bitten. 

Honestly, you’re at a loss of what to do in this situation. Do you wake him? Do you let him keep going until he ruins his pants? Do you just will yourself to go back to sleep and pretend this never happened? You know that last one’s definitely not going to work considering how ridiculously turned on you are. With every thrust against your ass, an onslaught of butterflies assault your stomach and you feel the pool in your underwear only getting wetter. 

You don’t want to stop him. 

“S..sweet girl.” He’s dreaming about you. Your entire body melts into a puddle when he mumbles out that petname that you pretend to hate.

Being the good friend you are, you figure you could at least help him along. 

Your arm manages to break free from his hold and you use it as leverage to get your body to turn around to face him, once he loses his friction, a deep sound of disappointed leaves him and his brows fall, a pout gracing his face. His hips move in frustration as he tries to gain back the friction and you can’t help but feel bad for him. 

“Harry.” you take ahold of his shoulder and shake him gently, “Harry.” 

His body twitches a little in response to you rousing him and you smile gently, “Harry.” 

His eyes flutter open and when he’s met with your eyes staring into his, for a moment he only looks disoriented, a little confused and grumpy that he’s being woken up. But then his eyes widen and you swear if it wasn’t so dark in his room you’d see every bit of pigment drain from his face. 

“Shit. Oh my god.” It doesn’t take him long to figure out why you’ve woken him up. He’s so hard, sensitive, and it feels like he could come at any moment. And you’re looking at him like that. 

“I’m so sorry. Holy shit I’m really really—I didn’t know what I was—” you don’t let him slur out anything else before you pull his lips into yours, kissing him with the same desperation that you can feel radiating off of his body. 

You pull away from his lips with a soft click and his expression when you’re eye to eye again is one you know you’re going to commit to memory. He’s looking at you like you hung the moon and stars. You can still see that subtle frustration in his eyes though, you know he’s fighting to keep his hips under control. You hike your leg up so it rests over his hip and inhale deeply once your crotches are pressed together, “keep going. It’s okay.” You reassure him. 

He stares at you for a moment as if he’s unsure, and you nod, scooting closer to him and encouraging him to put his hands back on you, “it’s okay, baby.” 

Your soothing, yet sensual whisper of that name is what breaks him. His hips roll one slow thrust against your core and his jaw falls open in a deep groan. Your breath hitches at the feeling, you didn’t realize how sensitive you were until you felt him move against you, and fuck, you’re really sensitive. 

His breathing gets heavier as he continues to fuck himself against your cunt, maintaining eye contact with you as he loses himself in the white hot pleasure that’s tormenting every part of his body. It feels so much deeper than normal, it feels like you’re everywhere all at once, and he’s not even inside you. You guys are merely dry humping on his bed but it somehow feels like the most intense thing that he’s ever experienced. 

He says your name and you hum to let him know you’re listening, “you feel so fucking good. How do you feel this good?” he sounds out of his mind with pleasure. You can’t even find the words to respond to him so you just nod quickly and lean into to capture his lips with yours again. He moans into the kiss and his hands shoot to your hips to urge you faster against him and pull you closer.  

It feels like he can’t get enough of you, like he can’t get close enough. His hands reach for every sliver of skin he can find, his lips attack your jaw and neck, leaving marks on you just like you did to him in his dream. Every kiss he leaves is frantic, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. Continuous praises leave his lips, like he has to show you how grateful he is. 

“You’re so beautiful.”

“Feel so soft.”

“So much fucking better than my dreams.”

“Fucking perfect.” 

“Can’t believe you’re this wet from me using you like that. Filthy fucking thing.” he’s losing his restraint and you can absolutely tell, the way he’s talking to you, looking at you, thrusting against you, he’s letting go in the best way. He’s just doing what he knows will feel best for the both of you. 

“Such a good girl. Taking me like this, fuck.” 

You whimper softly as the tip of his cock bumps against your sensitive mound through the confines of your clothes. Originally you just wanted to get him off, but you find yourself chasing that release to, and it’s building faster than you thought. He feels amazing. With every deep grind against your cunt he drives you further and further into a pleasure induced oblivion. You should be embarrassed at the sounds leaving you and how you’re already so close, but it just feels too damn good to care. 

“Harry…fuck.” you grip tightly onto his pajama shirt, grasping at whatever you can to ground yourself with the way you feel like you’re floating off the ground right now. 

“Love the way you say my fucking name.” the words fall out of his mouth in a desperate whine, his hips move faster and needier and he buries his face in your neck to cope with all the sensations. He lifts his head up the slightest bit so his mouth is positioned right next to your ear and a full body shiver wracks through your body when he speaks, “need you to come for me, sweet girl. Can you do that for me? Know you’re close.” 

“So close, baby please.” you babble out, your hips moving together in a frantic rhythm to reach your climax. He encourages you with desperate words that sound more like whimpers and uses his firm grip on your hips to drive you harder against him. 

It builds and builds until everything in you draws up taut like a bow, you shudder through the release and Harry can’t keep his eyes off of your expression as he gently pushes you through it. 

“Gonna make me make a mess in my fuckin’ pants, fuck.” You fight through the painful pleasure of overstimulation as he chases his release, focusing in on the way he almost looks pained as he works himself against you so desperately.

A rushed whisper of, “m’coming” leaves him before his thrusts grow sloppier and rougher. His mouth falls open as needy, filthy noises leave his lips. He practically sings your praises as he makes a mess on the both of you, leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck to ground himself as he works through a powerful release. 

“Sweet girl.” he whispers after a moment of silence, bringing his face out of your neck to look at you. His hands come up to caress your cheek, blowing out a breath from his mouth like he’s in awe of you. 

“Hi.” you whisper back, “that was….” 

“Yeah.” he finishes. A small chuckle leaving his lips at how awkward you two are making this. 

You’re unsure what to say for a moment and you look away, but his fingers grab your chin, “don’t do that. I like looking at you.” 

You look away again in pure shyness and he laughs and forces your eye contact again, “don’t!” he speaks through his laugh. 

He leans down to kiss you and a pleased hum leaves both of your lips, he barely disconnects from you before he starts to speak, “you believe me now, right?” 

“What do you mean?” you whisper. 

“Movies are better than books.”