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gretavanmoon · 4 months

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S17

Spinning Now: "Birthday Sex" by Jeremih (2009)

Pairing: Danny x female reader

Word Count: 14.3k

Description: Danny's always been that friend and roommate who you never thought of as anything more, until a birthday proposition presents itself in a way that neither of you can deny.

Warnings: Drinking, Cursing, Heavy Flirting, Praise, Dirty Talk, Touching, Wax Play

Smut: Kissing, Oral M!Receiving, Oral F!Receiving, Fingering, Unprotected Sex (use protection!!)

+ This little diddly of an idea has been swimming around in my head for months now, and I've been so excited to get it going. And thanks to the reader who suggested it be a roomies trope ;) Hope ya like xoxo

Girl you know i i i...

HER POV

White or red?

There is no special occasion, simply just the bi-weekly dinner gathering of your friend group that has turned into an every-Thursday-night habit. Not that an occasion constitutes your wine choice, but still yet, the thought quickly crosses your mind. You are all meeting at your and Danny’s house tonight, along with the conjoined group of friends that has been steadily keeping each other fed for the past two and a half years, now.

You’d been living with Danny for as long as you could remember, taking claim of his spare room sometime after everyone collectively moved out of your parents’ homes. The arrangement worked perfectly, the two of you already knowing how the other ticked after being friends for many years. Your jobs kept both of you busy, giving the other enough room that you didn’t feel like you were invading space in the small house.

You pull your phone from your pocket as you peruse the wine selections, texting the group chat to check on tonight’s menu.

You: What are we making tonight again? I already forgot

Jake: Salmon and quinoa and some other stuff

Jake: God your memory sucks

You: Emma, come get your man he’s being mean to me again

Emma: Quit picking on her babe

You: Ok so I should get white wine, right? Pairs with fish?

Sam: Just get three fuckin bottles of wine, who cares

You: Ok I’m not coming if you guys are gonna continue to harass me

Sam: Too bad it’s your house and you have to be there anyway

You: I’ll lock myself in my room I don’t care

Danny: No Y/N, if they’re gonna be assholes they don’t have to come over. They can stay home and we can order pizza :)

Jake: Shut the fuck up Sam, I’m making the damned salmon and quinoa

Josh: What the fuck is quinoa

You shove your phone back in your pocket as you roll your eyes, the buzzing still consistent as you imagine they are still arguing with one another.

It's funny how much Danny has been defending you lately. He’s still his normal self, your very good friend who sometimes lets his sweet side get the better of him, but in the past couple of months, something has switched. The more the brothers pick on you, the more he stands up for you. It used to be the opposite, with him joining in on your playful dog-piling any chance he could get. But ever since a couple of months ago… ever since his last birthday…

Almost three years ago now, you and Danny had found yourselves wrapped up in each other’s arms in his bed after a drunken night that started out like any other, dinner, socializing, cards, and way too much to drink. It was his birthday party, and after everyone else had cleared out, you stayed up to clean up the multitude of plastic cups and empty bottles that were scattered around the house. You were both fairly drunk, and you knew if you got the majority of the party cleaned up that night, you wouldn’t have to bother with it all while being inevitably hungover the next morning.

“I’ll get out of your hair soon, Danny. I’m about to call an Uber to go stay with Emma.” You’d said as you dried the last of the dishes. He was sprawled out over on the loveseat, his shirt halfway unbuttoned and his mess of curls pulled up on top of his head. You’d always found him attractive, but you’d always been positive he was way out of your league. He’d never even given you a passing glance in that way. Except, that night, he looked exceptionally delicious… and your hazy, drunken mind undoubtedly had started to drift.

“What? Whyyyyy…? Don’t get an Uber, it’s too late,” he’d slurred as you walked over to sit on the ottoman his feet were rested on.

“Becauseeee… it’s your birthday and I don’t want to interrupt your time with whatever guest you might have coming over.” You remember the words felt heavy in your mouth, like it was strange that you had never talked about Danny’s personal life out loud before. Or yours, for that matter. Even after all the years of being friends and roommates, the two of you had always taken things as they’d come… watching as strangers made their way in and out of your bedrooms without a second question.

“Guest?” His face contorted. “I ‘ont have a guest coming over, Y/N…”

You’d let your mouth gape open and your hand clutch your chest in a display of over-dramatics. “Really? No one to give you a happy ending on your birthday?! You must be falling off the wagon, Wagner.”

What you do remember, though, was how hard he laughed at your half-assed attempt at a shitty joke.

“I swear! Just me, tonight.” It was at that very second that you remember becoming enamored with the way he licked his lips, how he clicked his tongue just a little, and how his eyes had fluttered closed under his lashes. He’d reached his hand out for you to grab, so you did.

“You gonna let me be lonely on my birthday, Y/N?” His warm fingers slowly worked their way to interlace with yours. This flirtatious tone wasn’t something you’d ever seen from him before, but for some reason, you found yourself tumbling for it. The deep rasp in his voice signaled something else, something so unexpected from him that you almost laughed it off as him kidding with you.

Your eyes had glanced around the room in confusion, and when you didn’t answer, you felt his foot kick into your leg, bringing your eyes back to look at him. His eyebrow was cocked in the air, as if he was waiting for an answer.

“You’re drunk, Danny… you don’t…” you’d anxiously answered, nodding your head side to side in disbelief.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t want me to… stay…” for some reason, he was making you nervous, and you were having trouble answering him. There was no way he wanted you to stay, of all people. No way in hell.

He’d laughed, sitting up on the couch and leaning over to take you in his arms in a giant bear hug. His face was buried into your shoulder, pulling you close in the warmest embrace you’d had in a while. It was strange feeling him this closely, and you shivered a little at his touch. You’d hugged him back, and then felt his lips drift close to your ear.

“I actually do… want you to stay here with me. In my room, in my bed, until tomorrow morning…” his voice crackled in your ear, the faint scent of spicy tequila still on his breath. It’d sent chills all over your body, and you had to admit, it was a strangely welcome feeling. Danny had never been this close to you, like this, ever before. His words had shocked your system, though, temporarily deeming you unable to respond.

So when he finally pulled back from the hug and confidently met your eyes again, you let yourself go with it. You were still fairly intoxicated, but this drop dead gorgeous friend of yours who had hardly ever given you the time of day was now throwing himself into your lap. Why turn him down? It was his birthday, after all.

“I never knew you were into me, Danny,” you’d cooed, watching as his fingers drifted across the back of your hand.

He sat back and dropped his head against the cushion again, cracking his fingers above his head. “I‘ve always been into you, Y/N. You’re gorgeous and fun, make me laugh… always been so good to me.”

You’d never admitted it, but of course you had pictured yourself with him a time or two. How could you not? Talented, handsome, kind and genuine…always looking for fun and always including you in his outlandish plans. But this…him laying it out on the line like this? It had your body beginning to physically yearn for him, completely out of nowhere.

“Stop playing, no you haven’t…” you’d argued, still in disbelief.

He held his hands up in surrender, cocking a sideways smile. “I swear. I just… never had the guts to say anything…”

You contemplated it all for a second, giving him a questioning look that begged for his reassurance.

“Why not, ya know? Not like we’re strangers…” you’d muttered through a sharp inhale.

You stood from the ottoman and slowly began stepping one foot in front of the other toward him, standing just between his legs. Your heart rate spiked as you answered him, your face flushing with the reality of what you were about to do. “Just a birthday hookup, huh? Just this one time?”

You let your hand brush against his thigh, your fingers lightly tickling until they reached his hip. It felt as though your hands were disconnected from your body, making their own decision to reach out and touch him as he sat reclined in front of you. Gently, his hands pulled around your waist, his thumbs digging into the flesh, strong and inviting.

“Just this one time…and that’s it.”

That night, the two of you stayed up until the winter sun was striking through the windows onto Danny’s white down comforter, and only then did the two of you finally drift off to a short but sweet slumber, until the alarm on his phone woke you both in a panic.

You’d fallen asleep upside-down on the bed, both of your heads at the foot of his king-size. His arm was draped across the small of your back, and his hair was still a messy bundle of curls at the back of his head.

“Fuck,” he’d muttered, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know, it’s your alarm…”

Suddenly, now, in the light of day and the brightness of the room, the both of you became very conscious of your unclothed selves. You’d felt your cheeks blush at the sight of him, skin still dewy with the after-effects of sweat and sex. You didn’t miss his passing glance of you, too, still halfway wrapped up in his sheets as he maneuvered to the top of the bed to check the time.

“‘S only seven. Shit, I’ve got a headache…” he said, running a hand over his face.

“Me too,” you mumbled as he laid back down beside you. You pulled the covers up a bit more over your body, feeling extremely exposed in the bright sunlight. He propped himself up on his elbows, giving you a sweet and questioning look. “So, what are we supposed to do now?” you’d asked. “Cuddle?”

His laugh bounced off the walls, the glitter in his eye sending a wave of nerves through your body.

“We cuddled plenty last night, Y/N. We didn’t end up falling asleep until like, six,” he said, his voice groggy with sleep, or lack thereof.

“Fuck,” you breathed. “I’m sorry for keeping you up all night, I know you have things to do all day–” he cut you off with a kiss, his neck craning down to meet your lips with the sweetest surprise touch.

After a few fleeting seconds he pulled away, meeting your eyes as he spoke again. “Don’t you dare apologize to me, Y/N. I asked you to stay in here. Asked you to keep me company on my birthday.” His hand reached up to pull the hair away from your cheek, bringing instant flashbacks of his hands on your face and shoulders last night as he pinned you down, fucking you into his mattress. “I was just completely unaware that both of us would last for that many hours…” he laughed, rolling away to cover his face.

“God, Danny, don’t embarrass me!” you laughed along with him.

“What is there to be embarrassed about?! Shit, I think we were great together,” he went on, holding his hand out for you to low-five.

You pursed your lips together, letting your hand clap onto his. “We were, weren’t we? Never would have thought.”

“Shit, I thought about it all the time…” he admitted.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” you played, smacking him across the chest.

“I don’t know, you’re just a girl in my friend group, ya know? My roommate that helps me with rent…didn’t want to freak you out or something and make you hate me,” he explained.

You propped up on your elbow, shaking your head at him. “So we could have been doing this all along?”

“Oh, so you enjoyed yourself, then?” he countered, rolling you to lie on your back as he pulled himself over you again.

As you gazed up at him above you, small curly strands falling around his face and onto yours, you felt your face get hot, the same need you felt in your stomach for him last night coming back full force. A need you never thought you would have for him. A need that came back to you over and over again the night before, and left you both too exhausted to even bother to see the morning.

“Danny, we fucked like five times, of course I enjoyed myself,” you tried to keep the confidence heavy in your voice.

His nose scrunched up as he giggled, light and airy into the room. He laced his fingers with yours, lifting your hands together into the air and pulling them back down between you again. This time, you took the initiative and kissed him again, straining to keep things from moving as quickly as they had moved once you finally climbed into his lap on the couch last night.

When you finally separated, both of you refraining from letting it go any further, he disconnected your hands and clenched his jaw. “What do we do now?”

You didn’t want a relationship. And neither did he. That much was very known amongst your friend group, the both of you way too busy with your own lives to devote your time to another. You stood strong in that decision, and you knew for a fact that he would, too. So your mind began wandering, thinking of ways to end this entanglement you’d found yourselves in.

“What if we just… did this sometimes?” you proposed.

His brow furrowed. “I’m listening…”

“Our birthdays. Yours in December, and mine in June… it’s perfect. If the both of us are single on our birthday each year, we make a plan to not leave the other lonely…” The idea seemed preposterous, but at the same time, it didn't. A sure-fire way to make each of your birthdays interesting each year, and after the night you’d shared last night, you’re positive he wouldn’t turn the idea down.

His eyes dashed around the room as he considered it, taking a deep breath as he sat up in the bed. You caught a glance of his naked lower half, and your eyes rolled back on their own accord as you pictured his hips pounding into yours last night in the darkness of his bedroom. You sat up too, challenging his gaze.

He held his hand out again, this time for you to shake.

“Deal.”

—-

After deciding on the three bottles of wine, two white and a red, your mind begins wandering off by itself, causing you to hardly pay attention to the fact that you are singing the words to the song playing in your headphones out loud. You bite your lips, glancing around to see if anyone had seen you, or worse, heard your horribly flat singing voice. Luckily the aisle is clear, so you make a mad dash for the checkout line, ready to get out and head back home for dinner.

The drive is short, and when you finally arrive in the driveway, you find that you’re the last one to get there.

“Hello, hello,” you sing as you let yourself inside, kicking off your flip flops at the door. You set the bag of wine bottles on his island where Jake and Sam are busy preparing the meal.

“Thank god, the booze is here!” you hear Josh sing through the house as he makes his way over to stand beside you, opening the drawer of the island to search for Danny’s wine opener. You set all three bottles in line on the countertop in a nice straight line. “Shiraz, Y/N? That’s surely a bold choice…” Josh says, rolling his eyes.

“The label looked pretty, I don’t know!” you counter, shoving your shoulder into his. “It already smells really good, guys…” you say as you leave Josh to the wine, leaning over Jake’s shoulder as he stirs a pot at the stove. Suddenly Danny is leaning over his other side, sticking his finger in whatever sauce Jake is stirring.

“Aht, aht!” Jake swats his hand away just as Danny sticks his finger into the saucepan. “It’s not perfect yet…”

“Tastes good as hell to me,” Danny says, locking eyes with you as he pops his lips over his finger. You feel your insides churn.

“So Y/N, your birthday is next week, you guys planning your weird little bi-yearly birthday hookup still?” Josh nonchalantly asks as he yanks the cork from the bottle of red. Fortunately, it only took nearly two years for your friends to catch on to your and Danny’s little birthday agreement, when Jake inadvertently tried to surprise Danny with filling up his bathroom with balloons, only to find you bent over the bathroom sink.

“Christ, Josh, you have to put it like that?” Danny intervened. “Geez…”

“What?! That’s what it is, right?” Josh says as he pulls glasses down from the cabinet. You feel your face blush, even though it’s an open topic, at this point.

Danny pulls himself up to sit on the corner of his countertop. “No, we simply enjoy the other’s company on our birthdays because both of us suck at the dating playing field and always decide to indulge in one another’s availability, right Y/N?”

“That’s correct,” you confidently agree as you listen to the others groan.

Josh throws his head back and laughs loudly.

“What?” Danny yelps.

“You don’t think it’s funny that neither of you have ever had a significant other on your birthdays for the past what, three years now?” Josh says, eliciting silent looks of agreement from his brothers.

“Mmm, no, I don’t think it’s funny. We both suck at dating, you heard him. This is just…our way of making sure we aren’t alone twice a year.” The attempt at explaining yourselves is transparent, at this point. You know you’re lying to yourselves. It's obvious. Each and every time you pull yourself from Danny’s bed, or he from yours, you feel your bones begging you to stay. You like him, you’ll admit it, but only to yourself.

Twice a year isn’t enough, it was never enough. And you know for a fact that it will never be enough. On his birthday last year, you could have sworn you heard him say something close to the ‘L’ word as he came for the third time that night, his voice low and whining as you clenched around him, bringing him to his completely fucked-out state of mind. Each hookup had gotten hotter, heavier, and more serious. Each time was better than the last, and this last one was so intense, that you ended up staying in his room a second night, completely breaking your own rules.

As you slipped out of his bedroom that second morning, his honey brown eyes were begging you to stay, his lips touching his fingertips and blowing it your way as you quietly shut his bedroom door behind you.

That morning broke you. That morning your heart told you what it wanted.

That morning was the last time you denied it to yourself– you were absolutely head over heels for him. The yearning you’d felt had begun overtaking your whole self. And it wasn’t just yearning, it was something else. Something more powerful, something you couldn’t grasp the notion of, because you’d never felt it before. It’s now become something that makes your days drag by with the thought of him, not only sexually but personally, too. You feel wrapped up in his life, intertwined with his decisions, and some days you barely even have the time to give each other more than a goodmorning and goodnight. Sure, you still meet up every week with your group for dinner, but the subtle touches and the intense glances that are being shared almost on the daily now have become too much. You want to tell him. You need to tell him.

“Hm. Okay, so… what’s the plan this year?” Josh asks, obviously wanting to pry into your business, just like always.

“Josh, it’s none of your fucking business. Can you leave them alone for a second?” Sam says as he empties the box of rice into the insta-pot.

“No, it’s fine. I have big plans…” Danny bites his cheeks in as he denies himself a cheeky smile, swinging his bare feet as he sits on the counter. His eyes are boring into yours, and you swear just a simple word from him would have you on your knees for him, anymore.

“Big plans, huh?” you try to avoid his stare.

“Mmmmhm…” he says, grinning to himself. “Might have you running away and never coming back, though.”

You nearly choke on the sip of wine swirling in your mouth. Throughout the years, you will admit, your hookups had gotten more and more mischievous as time went on, both of you pushing each other’s boundaries just a little more each time. Nothing had ever gotten too crazy, but after his birthday last year, it was an unwritten understanding that not much was off the table, at all.

Sam plugs his ears with his fingers. “La la la I don’t wanna hear details!”

Jake pulls his wooden spoon from the sauce, turning to face all of you. “I do, I wanna hear it. Keep going. What’s the plan?”

“I’m not fuckin’ tellin’ you guys, it’ll ruin the surprise,” Danny argues as Josh hands him a glass of wine.

“Okay well you can tell me after her birthday then, right?” Jake pushes.

Emma steps in front of him, taking the now dripping spoon from his hand and running her tongue up the side to catch it from going into the floor. “Yeah Danny, maybe you should give him the rundown, maybe it’ll get his wheels turning,” she challenges, bouncing her eyebrows to Jake as she places the spoon back into the sauce. You laugh at her, feeling no embarrassment in the least.

“Get my wheels turning?! What is that supposed to mean?!” Jake yells, grabbing her waist from behind and spinning her around the kitchen.

You lock eyes with Danny again as he gives you a suspicious look of excitement, like he’s trying his hardest to keep his idea locked inside.

—---

After a rambunctious and wine-drunk dinner, everyone begins to file out of the house, stumbling away to either walk down the street to their respective homes, or catching a ride out with other friends to the nearest bar. You’re left behind again, like always, helping Danny with dishes and pouring out the remaining bits of wine left behind in the glasses.

“So, next week. The big 2-5. You still down for hanging out?” he asks as he dries the last dish, as if you would ever say no.

“Actually, I think I’m going to spend this year alone, ya know? Keep it low key, order some take-out and curl up on the couch,” you say with a cheeky tone.

His jaw hangs slack as he nearly drops the towel in his hand. “Really?”

You scoff. “No, Danny. Are you serious? We shook on it, and I don’t break my promises,” you laugh. You slowly walk toward him, the line between friend and more than a friend getting blurrier as time goes on. You want to put your hands on his bare chest, press yourself against his warm body, crane your neck up to meet for a sweet kiss, but you don’t. Because you can’t. Because he isn’t yours.

So instead you just simply stand before him, leaning a hand onto the countertop.

He lets out an audible sigh of relief. “Shew, good. I was about to be pissed at you, Y/N,” he breathes as he playfully shoves your shoulder. “Standing me up on your birthday…”

You smile as you realize your feet are carrying you closer to him on their own. You try to stop them, try to tell them no, but you can’t. Now you’re standing in front of him, your chests almost touching as you let your finger trail up his arm to his neck. “I’d never stand you up, Danny. Not in a million years,” you murmur.

You feel his body stiffen as you let your singular fingertip connect with his skin, your touch a featherlight drift. You glance down at his hand balanced on the cold marble countertop, his fingers tightening and loosening under the weight of his own want to touch you back. You hear him breathe in, fast and choppy as you begin to manipulate the line between friends and more, truly unable to keep it black and white no matter how much you try. Finally you let your eyes look into his, dark and brooding and looking a lot like they do after a few rounds of self-indulgence with you.

“Good,” he growls, “because I have a hell of a night planned for us.”

Us.

“Is that right?” you question, still trailing your fingertip across his arm and neck. You can see the chill bumps forming on his skin now, and you can tell he is physically restraining himself from succumbing to his mental constraints. You have to admit, you’re finding it very satisfying, watching his mind tell his body no. The muscles in his arms flex and tighten as you step closer, slowly tiptoeing to bring your faces close, your lips barely ghosting his.

“That’s very right,” he whispers, opening his mouth slightly as if he’s going to kiss you, but instead pulling back a little. The proximity is enough to make you feel soaked already, your entire body buzzing with fire for him.

“When do you want me ready?” you breathe, letting your lips graze across his, your finger now hooked behind his bicep. His hands are still gripping as he balances between the island and the countertop as he leans down to you, restraining himself still yet.

He’s inhaling and blowing air quickly through his nose, and you know for a fact that he’s holding himself back with everything in him. His jaw clenches hard as his eyes stay trained on your lips. “Want you right now, if I’m being honest…” His words make the butterflies in your stomach explode their wings.

You can taste the wine still heavy on his breath. “But it’s not my birthday, Danny…” you retort.

He takes a deep breath. “I’m getting to a point where I don’t care.”

You swallow it down. Maybe your thoughts are mutual… Your heart is absolutely racing, like it would do when you found out your elementary school crush liked you back. You don’t even know what to say, at this point, you want him so badly…your vision blurring with the mental snaps of the two of you wrapped up in one another again.

“You should care, we have an agreement,” you admit through your teeth, as badly as it hurts to say it. “We set our rules.”

He scoffs hard. “I don’t remember signing my name on any dotted line, Y/N,” he spurts back, making you feel that drop in your stomach again. He wants to break the rules, too.

You bite your lips in, deciding to cut your losses. You step back from him, disconnecting your finger from behind his arm, and stepping away. The flushed look on his pink cheeks is enough to make you want to run back into his arms, and the look on his face makes it seem as though he just lost the one thing in his life he never planned on having, anyway.

“I asked you a question, Danny. When do you want me ready?” you say strongly.

He closes his eyes and recenters, swallowing down his thoughts. “Uh, uhm. F-Friday. Around 8.” He finally cleans up his expression and meets you with a smile again. “Be ready to celebrate.”

—--

DANNY POV

Friday rolls around more quickly than you thought it would. The group had decided to rain-check family dinner this week, planning on celebrating Y/N’s birthday the following weekend when everyone would be in town at the same time.

Your palms had been sweaty all day just at the thought of what tonight would hold, and you realize that you hadn’t been this anxious for a night together with Y/N, yet. The nerves are positively eating you alive, but you shove them down, knowing that you shouldn’t be having them in the first place. She doesn’t feel for you the same way you feel for her, and she likely never will.

It’s heartbreaking and wasteful, really, knowing that your sexual chemistry with her is only put to good use twice a fucking year when it should be being shared with her whenever you wanted to show her how much you really care, but. Here you find yourself.

She’s taking up all the extra space in your mind these days. You feel like you’re floating on air each and every time the vision of her face pops into your mind, you feel like you can feel the blood in your veins rising to a hotter temperature than you’ve ever experienced, and you find yourself wanting to give her all the things she’s ever wanted, and more. Your friend, one of your best friends, you’d say, unknowingly spinning herself into your life in a way that you can’t even tell her about.

That last birthday you shared together, your twenty-fifth, wasn’t the same as the rest before it. Sure, fucking her was high on your list of excellent sexual experiences thus far, but that last time, shit. Had your head spinning for days after. Never had a woman gotten you more fucked up than she did after that night. Two nights, really. That was when you knew it was real. When you wanted to ask her to stay, don’t go… be with me here and don’t ever leave… But your pride got the best of you. So you let her walk out, taking every single last bit of hope you had to make her yours with her as she walked out your bedroom door.

Could she not see it? Did she not notice how horribly you want her, all the time? Surely she doesn’t think you’re just being nice when you do little things for her… offer to change the oil in her car, take her lunch to work, send her every single funny meme and video you have ever come across simply because you know they’ll make her laugh…

Apparently not. But you don’t want to push too hard, too soon, either. If it’s meant to happen, it will. Hell, you hadn’t even told Sam about these feelings you’d been having. No one knows. This is a secret you’d kept bottled up for months now.

You come back inside after a quick trip to the grocery store and gently place the items from your arms onto the island, making sure the champagne bottle doesn’t tip over and break. You stick the bottle into the fridge and remove everything else from the plastic bags before rushing into your bedroom to make sure it’s presentable.

While she was at work, you’d spent the majority of the day cleaning up the general guy-ness of your bedroom, putting on a fresh set of sheets and giving the bathroom a good wipe-down. You’d never cared this much, for what she thinks of your surroundings…

…But you want tonight to be special. You want this birthday to be her favorite one, yet. And you’re determined to do so. You’d placed various candles around the surfaces of your bedroom, trying to make it romantic, but not so much that it will make her think you’re trying too hard.

When you decide that your room is as neat as it’s going to get, you go back into the kitchen and tear into the small cardboard box that’s been hiding away on top of your refrigerator for almost a month now. You’d seen an ad for it while scrolling instagram or something, and you knew right then that you had to get it. Your birthdays spent with her were becoming more and more experimental, and the idea for this year had fallen right into your lap.

You rip the packing tape off the box, letting it fall to the wayside as you open the flaps, finding the perfectly wrapped 2 and 5 candles in all their glittering glory. Shiny, crimson red wax with metallic gold trimming, long wicks and a thickness that regular store-bought candles just don’t have. You smirk as you pull them from the packaging and lay them in front of her small cake- chocolate with white buttercream icing. Her favorite. A glance at the clock on the stove lets you know you have an hour until she gets home, so you scurry off to the shower to get a last-minute scrub before you inevitably hear her coming through the door.

—--

Your stomach nearly falls to the floor when you hear the front door unlatch, and you find her a tired and flustered mess after her long shift. You busy yourself on your laptop, trying your best to seem more involved with what you’re doing than watching her unload her things from her arms onto the table.

“Hey birthday girl,” you mutter without looking back at her. “How was your day?”

You feel her lean all her body weight across the back of the couch beside you. “Long,” she huffs, “but not bad.”

You find the confidence to turn your head to her, finding her resting her head into her palm as she eyes you. You have to reel it all back in as you feel her so closely in your presence again.

“Good,” you reply, keeping it short. “Not too tired to skip our date?”

She hums a sweet laugh. “No. Most definitely not.”

“Are we…leaving the house? I’m trying to decide what to wear…” she asks shyly.

You have to remind yourself that she’s your friend, there’s nothing to be scared of, you do this all the time…

“No, actually. We’re staying home,” you reply.

Home. Your home, with her.

“Eight o’clock?” she reiterates.

“Yep, on the dot,” you tease as she stands to make her way to her end of the house.

She sways down the hallway, tossing her jacket over her shoulder as she disappears into the shadows. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

—---

A few hours later, you’re leaned on the island swirling a lowball glass of tequila, waiting for her to emerge from her bedroom. You’d been standing patiently, fashionably early for your birthday date in the kitchen as you listened to the faint sounds of her music playing as she got ready.

Your nerves are already shot, the tequila doing little to assist in qualming the nervous anxiety swirling through you. So when you finally hear her bedroom door open and her steps coming down the hall, you have to tilt the rest back in hopes that it will hit you a little more quickly.

She’s dressed cute, but comfortable, and you can tell she did her hair that special way that you’d complimented a few weeks ago. She smells like sweet sugary flowers mixed with the woodsy smell of rain, and just her scent as she approached you was already driving you insane.

You meet her in the middle of the kitchen, grabbing her hand to twirl her around into your embrace. “Happy birthday, gorgeous,” you mutter, your face falling into her hair for a second.

Her arms lift around your neck, squeezing just a little as she places the sweetest kiss to your cheek. “Thank you, Danny.” You allow yourself to hold her for just a second, your right hand gripping the wrist of your left at the back of her waist.

“You hungry?” You ask as you pull away from her.

“Yeah, whatcha making?” she replies, taking a seat at the island.

You grab the box of the frozen pizza you’d previously thrown in the oven, displaying it for her.

“Oh my god, my favorite!” she squeals. “I’m so excited.”

You laugh as you fold the box up, cramming it into the trash can. “Knew you would be. It’s not a five-star birthday meal, but. Let’s be honest. I can’t cook for shit, and you love this pizza more than you love a lot of things…”

“No, you’re so right. I’ve actually been craving it for a while,” she giggles.

“Wait, I also gotttttt….” You make your way to the fridge, pulling out the bottle of champagne.

“Shit, pizza and champagne? You know exactly how to make a girl happy, Daniel.” She blushes a little, and you know you’re on the right track for the night.

“You gotta open it, though. It’s bad luck if someone else opens the champagne bottle on your birthday,” you lie, scooting the bottle to her across the countertop.

“You’re crazy. Give it,” she rolls her eyes as she takes the bottle, twisting the key seven times and removing the wire casing. She stands from her chair, gripping the bottle in both hands as she searches for somewhere to aim.

“At the wall! Just not toward a window!” you warn, closing one eye as she begins to push on the cork. Finally it pops off, flying toward the wall as the bubbly pours from the neck of the bottle. “Get it, Y/N, get it!”

She cups her lips over the overflowing bottle, slurping up as much as she can before it flows into the floor. The two of you laugh as you bring two glasses over, letting her pour them up. Just then the timer for the pizza goes off, and the sound of the beeps reminds you that time is ticking, making your nerves rush for the main event.

——-

After stuffing yourselves with pizza and downing the bottle of champagne, the two of you are piled up on the couch sharing a six pack of some crazy peach flavored beer she’d bought last week.

You’re seated on the couch as she reclines across it, her legs in your lap. You’d talked a lot tonight, like more than you maybe ever have before. Sure, you’d been friends for many years now, but majority of the time, you’re surrounded by the other guys always intervening on your conversations, or interrupting your discussions.

But after three hours of deep exchange, you swear you could talk to her until the end of time, and never get tired of it. She looks natural with her bare, sunkissed legs draped across your lap, and your hand that’s mindlessly drifting over her thigh and knee looks like it belongs there.

Her drunken laughter bounces off the walls and right into your chest, making your entire self beam with happiness and adoration for her. The way she takes up space in the home you share gives you an inexplicable feeling. Roommates doesn’t even begin to describe what you want to title your living situation with her.

Your faces are blotched red and tears are falling from your eyes as the two of you come down from a laughing fit, and a sweet recovery silence falls over the both of you. Her eyes are bloodshot from the alcohol, and her face is flushed from the belly laughs.

“You’re really pretty, Danny,” she flits, making you whip your head her way.

“What?” you ask, embarrassed.

“You’re pretty. Well, you’re handsome, of course, but. You’re also pretty,” she explains, her words making you feel shy.

“Oh, thank you, Y/N. Don’t think anyone’s ever told me that before…” you respond. Your hand grips into her thigh a little bit as your head falls back onto the couch cushion. You meet her eyes, the both of you staring at each other while everything else in the room disappears. You hold the gaze for a long while, each passing second making your breathing pick up. Fuck, she makes you nervous.

Finally, she stands, pushing her hair back behind her ear as she reaches for you to take her hand. “Take me to bed, Danny…” she whispers.

Okay.

You slowly stand, keeping her hand in yours as she pulls you into the center of the room. Like magnets, your bodies are pulled into one another, your hands finding both of hers as you turn to walk her backwards down the hall to your room. You move in slow motion as the two of you glide across the wooden floors, taking your sweet, special time.

You take her chin between your fingers, and push her hair back again before leaning down to press your lips to hers. It’s gentle and sweet and slow, her lips parting only just a little bit as you guide her down the long hallway. You allow yourself the indulgence of her lips, the feeling of her tongue gently swiping across yours, the flavor of everything that she is. It’s all perfect, she’s perfect.

Her hands finally find your face and hair, entangling themselves like they always do, pulling you further into her. For this only being the sixth time you’ve done this, it feels like the most natural thing in the world to you. It doesn’t make any sense that you waste your time thinking about it, instead of giving her the loving that she deserves.

But you plan on showing her tonight. You may not be able to tell her, but damned if you can’t try your best to show her.

“Wait, I almost forgot,” you pause as you approach your bedroom door. “I’ll be right back. Stay here,” you command, squeezing her shoulders. “No peeking,” you whisper as you watch her eyelids close.

You’d already strategically placed her cake on the table in your room, with two forks and no plates. But the last finishing touch is the sporadically placed candles. You grab your lighter from your nightstand and light them one by one, watching as the flickering flames cast a warm glow across your walls. Perfect. Lastly, you place the 2 and 5 candles in the center of the cake, but wait to light them.

You slip back out into the hall, finding her still standing with her eyes closed. You grab her hands and pull her to walk toward you. “Keep them closed.”

Her smile lights up your entire world. “What are we doing, Danny? I’m scared…”

“Don’t be scared, babe. S’just me…”

You pull her inside, instructing her to sit down on the bed as you grab the cake and lighter. You balance it in one hand and flick the lighter with the other, lighting the wicks of both the number candles.

“Open your eyes.”

Her eyes flick open, finding the room completely illuminated with orange glow. “Ah, Danny…” she gasps, glancing around the room, and finally to the cake in your hands in front of her.

“Hm hm hmm hm hmmm hmm…” you hum the Happy Birthday song, your voice a bit shaky and jittery with nerves. “Don’t forget to make a wish,” you say, watching as her eyes flick to yours, then back to the cake in your hands. She closes her eyes for a few seconds before opening them again, and blowing out the flames of her 25.

“You wanna know what I wished for?” she asks.

You shake your head. “No. But I hope it comes true.”

You set the cake down on your nightstand and you sit back down beside her on your bed. You bring her in close again, letting your forehead balance on hers before you make contact. You swear to it, you could get lost in kissing her more easily than you could get lost in a foreign country. You’d kissed her a hundred times before, but lately…now…

Things move slowly, things move sweetly…normally the two of you waste no time in ripping one another’s clothes off, biting and scratching and devouring each other like you’re starved, but tonight feels like it deserves more attention than that. It deserves to be appreciated.

Your hands drift to the bottom hem of her cream-colored eyelet lace dress, your hand drifting up her thigh. You pull the dress as you go, revealing her thong hugging her hip. Your hand slips below the waistband, and you run your fingers along it and down the front pantyline, the backs of your knuckles skimming across her heat. She whines a little at the contact, and you feel your vision growing blurry.

You continue kissing her while slowly letting your hands explore her in a way you’ve never let them before, taking special care to pay attention to your every move. The kiss becomes more longing when you let a digit slip into her folds, feeling her wetness coating your finger for the first time in six months. Her hands grip onto your shoulders, pulling your upper body into her. You push her back to lay on the bed, never once disconnecting your mouths.

Her left knee is bent into the air while the other one lies flat, so you push it to the side a little as your hand still hides in her panties. Her hand is yanking at the back of your hair as your featherlight touch drifts up and down, finally landing on her sweet spot. She cries quietly into your mouth when you land on it just right, using your middle finger to swirl her wetness across it.

She sits up a little, reaching to your back to pull your cotton t-shirt over your head. You disconnect for just a second to help her, and toss it to the floor. “Mmm there you are,” she mumbles, her hands rushing across the skin of your chest and arms while you go back to work.

You feel her legs spread, giving you the ok to move further. You let your two middle fingers dip inside of her to the hilt, her muscles already tight and twisting around you. “Fuck baby, you’re tight…” you pull away long enough to say. With your words she tightens around you on purpose, clenching herself as you begin pumping your hand in and out of her. You start to wonder if you’re the only one she’s slept with since December. Not that it’s any of your business, but, lately you’d decided that your feelings for her had gathered so heavily in your chest that that six month gap would be worth it, if it meant she could be all yours.

You watch her face in awe, suddenly feeling no ounce of shyness in the least in watching her come undone around your hand. Her bottom lip bites into her mouth as her eyelids flutter open and shut, and the sounds that escape from her lips make you realize how beyond ready for her you are.

You continue pumping your fingers in and out of her, feeling her drip down onto the bed sheets below you. “You wanna let go like this for me, baby?” you ask, having trouble keeping your breaths even.

“No. Yes, but no…” she concedes. “Wanna… want you…”

You smirk. “Go ahead, Y/N, we’ve got all night. You know how we are...” You take the opportunity to twist your fingers inside of her, turning your arm so that your palm is now pressed against her heat instead of perpendicular with it. You lean down and lick a stripe up the side of her neck as you leave your fingers buried deep, stopping the pumping altogether and instead wiggling the tips of your fingers against the spot deep inside her.

“Fuck Danny,” she breathes. “Keep it there keep it there…” Her eyes squeeze shut as you watch her chase her high, her hand squeezing at your pec and gripping onto it with everything she has.

It’s impressive really, how much you’d learned her body after just being with her a handful of times over the course of three years, learning her ins and outs and what drives her crazy for you, and stowing them away at the back of your mind until the next birthday.

You make quick and heady work of brushing your fingers across that spot, pressing your palm against her clit and adding just the right amount of circular pressure in both places. Her legs fall open even further and her head tilts back, all of her muscles tightening as she cries out, giving you her first orgasm of the night. And you had barely even removed any clothing yet.

When she’s done, you gather up her wetness and pull it onto her stomach under her dress, letting your middle finger massage it onto her skin. “Fuck…” she breathes out, wiping the hair from her face. “That didn’t take me long,” she laughs.

“No, it didn’t,” you agree, sitting up on the bed. “Must be excited to see me.”

She sits up and stands from the bed, pulling her flowy cream dress up over her hips and hiking one knee after the other across either side of you. You lean back away from her straddle, resting your arms back on the bed as you get a good look at her, already glowy. She reaches up and clasps her hands behind your neck. “Very excited to see you,” she admits shyly.

“Hm, really? You see me every day,” you poke, trying to feel out her level.

“Yeah but we can’t do this on random Tuesday afternoons, or in front of our friends, now, can we?” she presses, letting her hips fall onto your lap. You reach one finger to her chest and trail it up to under her chin, pulling her into you. Your heart begins pounding as you fall into a ravenous kiss again, this time bringing more heat than you even began to touch on a few minutes ago. Your hands fall to her waist, pulling her down onto you as she moves her knees to sit closer, pressing your chests together. Your hands travel across her thighs and to her waist, then finally around to grip her ass.

Though your tongue is burying itself deeply into her mouth, you’re metaphorically biting it. You want to tell her that yes, you do want to move things in another direction with her, you do want to hold her hand in front of your friends, you do want them to know how crazy you actually are for her. So in an act of boldness, you try.

“Maybe not in this regard, but they probably wouldn’t mind a little PDA…”

She giggles as she wraps her hands in your hair. “PDA? Like flirting with each other? In front of them?”

“Yeah, just like that. They already know we sleep together sometimes, they have to know we, ya know… are allowed to let it flow into days that aren’t our birthdays…” you swallow the words down, feeling so anxious that she may take them the wrong way, or hate them altogether.

“You think they’d make fun of us?” she asks, her mouth kissing behind your ear.

“Oh yeah, they would. But, I’d be there to slap the fuck out of them if they embarrass you,” you respond, squeezing your hands into her hips.

Her tongue is tickling the sensitive skin around your ear as she lays tiny pecks near your hairline. “I think I’d be okay with a little flirting… sometimes it almost happens naturally, anyway,” she says, making your heart rate soar again.

“Really?”

She nods, coming up to face you now, her cheeks tinted the palest pink. “Mmhm, sometimes I have to stop myself from touching you in front of them. You know, just innocently.”

You swallow hard, knowing the exact feeling all too well. When you’re surrounded by your friends making dinner or whatever it may be, you’ve found yourself having to stop your hand from grazing across her lower back as you walk by, from leaning down to kiss her cheek, anything, all the time. She’s right, it does feel natural to want to do that.

“I do, too, actually,” you admit. “You… It feels normal to me. Just a reflex.” You buck your hips up into her as you speak, your body begging you for some contact.

The whimper that leaves her chest ignites that deep carnal instinct inside you, wanting, needing to connect yourself with her again. You gather the soft fabric of her dress in your hands, signaling to her that you want to pull it off. She lifts her arms above her head, allowing you easy access to tear it all the way off of her. As her hair cascades back down over her shoulders you realize that her dress didn’t require a bra. So, you’re left staring at her left only in her thong, her breasts sitting more perfectly than you remember them. “You’re so gorgeous, Y/N, I swear…” you grit, raking over her body with your eyes.

She hops off of your lap, motioning with one finger for you to stand. When you follow her order, she falls to her knees, working her fingers to unbutton your jeans. “Fuck, wait,” you say. Her eyes glance up at you through her eyelashes. “Pull your hair back.”

She does as you say, pulling her hair into a ponytail at her neck while you undo your jeans with one swift movement. She gets done with her hair quickly, swatting your hand away and pulling your zipper down. “Take them all the way off, Danny,” she demands, and the backs of your knees hit the mattress as you lean over, kicking them and your underwear off one leg at a time. You kick them to the side as she walks on her knees closer to you, taking your already over-hard dick in her right hand, licking her lips just a little before she swirls her tongue around the tip. Everything had just happened really fast, her urgency making your blood pump. Her tongue flattened out against you, and she pressed you all the way to the back of her throat, almost making your knees buckle under you.

She grabs your hand, pulling it toward the back of her head. You take the signal and wrap your hand around her hair just as her lips meet your base, and you hold her there, feeling the saliva already beginning to pool in her mouth. “God damnit, baby, fuck you’re so good at this. Don’t even need my help…” You loosen your grip and allow her to drag her lips across your shaft, adding hard suction as she slowly ascends off.

“Want your help, though. Do it…” she motions, so you do. You use her ponytail to guide her up and down you, forcefully pushing and pulling on her head just like she likes it. The first time you did this, you were a bit thrown off, as you’ve always just let whoever was pleasing you do whatever they felt. But she likes it when you tell her when and where you want her to be.

The candles are physically heating up the air in the room, providing a heat that feels like a heavy blanket on your skin. Your mind flashes with remembering the special candles, and you feel a spark of excited electricity shoot through your body. The baby hairs around her face are beginning to stick to her forehead as her eyes glance up to look at you, doelike and pleading.

She hums onto your dick as you squeeze her cheeks together, taking a hard hold on her jawline as your opposite hand guides her motions. Your head falls back as you feel the knot tightening in your stomach, but you can’t let go just yet. Her tongue swirls around your tip and the sounds that her mouth is making sound downright ruthless, spurring on your albeit degraded current situation.

She moans onto you as her lips pull on and off, all by the force of your hand. You pull her hair particularly roughly, watching as the string of saliva connects her mouth to you, still. You take the second to sit down on the bed, physically unable to stand for another second without losing all will to hold yourself up. She moves in closer and digs her nails into the soft skin between your legs, sending a shake through your body. “Mother fucker baby, keep going with that…” you say, biting your bottom lip as you watch her. She scratches at your skin a few more times before you finally decide you can’t take it anymore, pulling and pushing on her head at a quicker pace.

“Mhmm…” she moans as she nods her head ‘yes’, and you feel the deep rumble in your stomach, telling you that you’re not far. She kisses her lips down tightly on you this time, flicking her tongue in all the right places as you feel her throat tightening around you.

“So fuckin’ deep baby, shit…” you say as your hips jut forward a few times, your dick hitting the back of her throat. Suddenly you feel your world falling apart as you let go into her, the dim orange light of the room turning into flashes of black and white as you send your streams down her throat. You wrap her hair around your hand as you hold her just where you want her, pulling her closely into you as you hiss through your release.

When you finally take a breath and your vision unblurs, you watch as she wipes her chin with the back of her hand, standing to her feet again and joining you on the bed, a completely smug and satisfied look on her face.

“The fuck are you grinning about, huh?” you ask, pulling her in toward you again.

“Nothin’, I just really love being the one to make you make noises like that,” she says, biting back another smile.

“Well, you’ve got me figured out, seriously,” you compliment her, and it was the absolute truth.

She shrugs you off. “Eh, I’m out of practice, really.”

Oh?

“No way, you’re like… well seasoned,” you kid.

“You dick!” she yells, stifling a laugh. “I haven’t even done that in six months.” You can tell she regretted saying it as soon as she did, suddenly avoiding your eyes and pulling one of your pillows up to cover her chest.

“...You’re kidding,” you breathe, truly in disbelief.

She shakes her head. “Lame, huh?”

“N-no, not lame. I–You haven’t, since…?” you stammer.

“Nope. Since your birthday. Go ahead, laugh at me all you want,” she says, motioning with her hand.

Her words hit you right in the gut. She hadn’t been with anyone since you…

“I’m not gonna laugh at you, Y/N. I… I actually haven’t been with anyone else, either.”

Her eyes meet yours in disbelief. “Really?”

You nod. “Not this time around.”

She sits for just a second, hugging the pillow to her. “Why not?”

You shrug, the nerves bubbling in your stomach. “I dunno, no one’s really…struck my interest. Not enough to bring back home, anyway.”

She pulls one shoulder up toward her ear. “Yeah, mine neither. I’ve…tried, ya know, but.” She swallows. “My birthday is my favorite holiday for a reason.”

You can’t stop the joy that rises in your chest, your extremities tingling and your heart beating in your ears as she basically admits she doesn’t enjoy anyone but you. She hasn’t made it work with anyone else in six months.

“Six months is a long time to wait, Y/N,” you mutter quietly.

She pulls the pillow down, moving closer to you on the bed. “Not when what you’re waiting for is all you can ever think about.”

Fuck… it feels like your head is going to float right off of your shoulders out of a pure high at her admission. Your chest gets warm and your mouth goes dry, and you swear if you were looking in the mirror, there would be stars in your eyes.

She feels the same.

After a few seconds of disbelief, you find the nerve to answer her, a hardly audible whisper as you bring your face close to hers. “I think I’d wait for you for fifty years, if you wanted me to…”

Her hand cups your jawline as she grits her teeth, pulling you into her again. Your mouth wants to devour her all over again, but instead you take note of the tender moment, laying a sweet kiss to her lips that has a promise behind it.

Her eyebrows furrow together when you pull away, a look you’re familiar with but also one that told you she’s confused. She opens her mouth to speak, probably to ask you if what you’d just said is true. But nothing comes out. She just stares at you in disbelief.

Your hand finds her hip as you yank her body in with a little force, almost nose to nose now.

“Yeah, you heard me right. I’d wait for you, I will wait for you, if that’s what you want me to do…” you say, feeling so anxious for the outcome of this conversation you could almost be sick. It’s either going to end really really well, or so badly that you’d end up alone in bed tonight. But the risk outweighs the outcome, and you are ready and prepared to take it, whatever it might be.

She swallows hard as you watch her eyes become glazed. Her hands are balancing around your neck and across your shoulders, and you can feel the heat rising in her palms as her digits nervously fidget. It feels like a hundred years pass in the time you wait for her to respond, and you contemplate taking it all back. Making up an excuse, saying just kidding, we’re just friends… But the panic stops as soon as she finds her words.

She shakes her head. “Wait for me… you’d, you wanna actually…?”

“Be with you more than just twice a year? Yeah, Y/N, I really would. You– you kinda have held a really special place for a long, long time now.” You swallow again, letting the words you’ve kept pent up for so long finally flow, but still feeling a little embarrassed by the admission. “I just never said anything, ya know, because of our arrangement. It worked so well for us but. I… I don’t know. It feels like more to me, lately.”

She nods hard again, a tiny smile crossing her lips as her eyes stay trained on yours. But she stays quiet.

“Can you say something, Y/N?” you ask through a huffed laugh.

“It is more, Danny. It’s been more to me for a long time, too. You take up more space in my mind than I’d like to admit,” she says, now avoiding eye contact.

Wow… finally. Finally, there it is.

“Why do we both deny it?” you whisper.

She shrugs, massaging the back of your neck. “I don’t know. But I don’t really want to anymore.”

You wrap your arm around her torso, pulling her weight from underneath her as you lay her flat on her back.

“Then we don’t,” you say as you tower over her, the candle light flickering in her eyes and off of her skin. Her body is beautiful, there’s no denying that, but what has always gotten you is how she carries herself…how her body language is always reflective of exactly what she’s feeling in the moment. And right now, as her midsection arches up into you begging you to touch her again, you have no other thoughts than to appease her.

Your mouth travels down her chest and across her belly, leaving long, lingering kisses across her body. As you get closer and closer to her heat, you move to kneel on the floor just as she had for you earlier, slipping your hands underneath her to pull her to the edge. Even in all your wild, drunken sexual adventures with her, for some reason, you’d never concentrated on this. You’d never gone down on her. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, as it was one of your favorite activities, but the immediate pull to one another on these nights always ended up with getting straight to the good part. Neither of you really ever left time for the embellishments.

She perks up onto her elbows as she gazes at your face between her legs. “Danny…”

“Let me show you what I mean, baby,” you more ask than say, running your tongue down the inside of her thigh. Her body stiffens as she still gives you that look of hesitation. Your tongue drifts over her opening as you tease her, barely ghosting overtop of everywhere but her sweet spot. She shudders again. “Unless you don’t want me to…”

“No! No I want you to. Please. You’ve just…” she finally relaxes her head back down.

“I know I haven’t. And that’s on me. But I wanna show you that I’ve been thinking about this, doing just this since the last time I had you…” you explain, finally delving your tongue deeply into her. Her reaction is immediate, her back arching up again as her hands find your hair. The sounds she makes make you strain to keep it together, and the taste of her finally on your tongue is enough to make you want to stop altogether, and get to the good part, but you savor this instead, realizing you’ve wanted her like this for so long.

You squeeze your lips over her, inching your tongue languidly inside of her and moving it back up to circle her clit. When you finally find it, she squeals, exhaling as her hands rip into your scalp. You glance to the head of the bed, pulling down a pillow and positioning it underneath her back to get a better angle. Your hands snake under her again, squeezing her ass as you pull her in.

“Fuck Danny, why did you hold back on this for so long?” she asks through a pant, her legs opening and closing over your ears. “Shit…” You realize that you don’t really have an answer.

She’s writhing and fighting herself, and you can tell she’s nearing the peak, until she backs off again, likely wanting to make this last. She hums and purrs as you work over her clit, using your tongue and lips to kiss every single drenched inch of her. You feel like you can’t get enough, until you remember. Her birthday gift.

You slow things down, pulling away a bit until you see the disgruntled look on her face at the disconnect. “No, don’t stop… don’t go..” she begs. Her expression is desperate, and you want nothing more than to feel her lose herself at the mercy of your mouth. So you dive back in, this time with a purpose.

“‘M not goin’ anywhere, baby,” you manage through kneads of your tongue against her. You bring your arm up between the two of you, using your elbow and hand to press her legs apart while your free hand’s two middle digits enter her again. Your tongue never lets up, circling and swirling furiously as her muscles tense. You take that as your cue to work harder, feeling her clenching around your hand already. You pump in and out of her again, making sure your tongue is pointed exactly where she needs it.

“Fuck, Danny baby… yes…” she breathes, and the pet name sends a shockwave straight to your dick, hearing her utter your name followed by a word so personal. You cup your lips over her clit, using a quick and harsh suction motion as you flick your tongue across it.

When she finally lets go, her cries and slurs of curses echo through your room, the most beautiful sound you’re sure you’ve ever heard. Her hands stay tangled in your locks, forcing your face into her as close as you can get. You savor it all, the sight, the sound, the taste… you wonder why you ever denied yourselves this piece of the puzzle after all this time, but then again, maybe saving something this intimate for right now is exactly what was supposed to happen.

Her body jolts and shakes as she lets the pleasure wrack through her, and you devour every last bit. You crawl up her once she opens her eyes again, her hand freeing from your hair and back down to your face, pulling across your cheeks and mouth as she wipes her wetness from you. Her voice is strained as she finally speaks. “Fuck that was…”

“Fucking delicious,” you finish, pressing your lips to hers again, making her nod into you.

“Yeah, fucking delicious,” she agrees, wrapping her legs around you and using the leverage to pull you onto her. If you weren’t rock hard before, you surely are now after witnessing her falling apart for you like that. You can tell she’s already ready to get things going again, but you stop her, pulling away like you had done before. You stand from the bed, watching that same look of disappointment come across her features.

“Don’t look at me like that, just wanna give you your birthday gift,” you say, walking around the bed to your nightstand. You grab the cake and place it carefully into your lap, grabbing the lighter again as she comes and sits beside you.

“I already blew out my candles, Danny,” she says, balancing her chin on your shoulder.

“You did, but I didn’t tell you that these are special candles. Not meant to be blown out,” you explain, flicking the lighter to life and igniting them both.

“Not meant to be blown out? Why–”

“Because they’re really an oil,” you say, putting the lighter down and grabbing the plastic tray under the cake again, holding it up between you. “These are candles specially made for us to let melt and drip onto each other. Not like regular wax, these don’t burn as hot. Once they start to melt a little, they turn into a body oil.”

“Like a massage oil?” she asks, and you nod.

“Mmhm, see, you can already smell the lavender and bergamot. They had birthday cake scented, but. I thought that might be overkill,” you smirk. Her eyes drift down to the candles with intrigue, and she bites her bottom lip in. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to. But, I’ve heard good things…”

She picks up one of the candles from the cake, carefully licking the icing off the bottom. She holds her opposite hand out palm down, and lets the melty wax oil drip down onto the back of her hand, a few droplets of dark red liquid dripping down between her fingers.

“Doesn’t burn at all,” she says, reaching to grab the cake from you to set on the table again. She then takes your hand, letting the wax drip down onto your hand, too.

The sensation is more of an extremely warm electrical pulse than the burn you’d expect, and it quickly dulls as the oil cools. It doesn’t harden like normal wax, instead it just turns into a thick oil. You take your other finger and rub it across your skin, feeling the softness of the lotion-like liquid sink into your skin. “Wow, no, it feels good,” you agree.

“Lay back,” you suggest, and she does, handing the candle off to you.

You question the situation, not knowing exactly where to drip the oil to make her feel the best. You assume maybe her chest and stomach, maybe even down her legs, if she feels up to it. You hold the candle directly above her sternum, raising your eyebrows in final question before you let it drip.

“Yeah, go ahead,” she says, her hand landing on your knee.

The red liquid finally falls through the air, a singular drop that lands and splatters across her chest. Her mouth opens just a little, but then her surprise quickly turns into a devious smirk. “Feel good?” you ask.

“Aha, yeah, actually. It burns pretty bad for a split second but it goes away…shit, do more,” she pleads.

You go along with her request, drizzling tiny drops between her breasts and down her stomach, nearly completely coating her in the oily liquid.

“You sure you like it?” you ask as you watch her face repeatedly turn from a surprised grimace into a devilish look of satisfaction. Thankfully, that second look, you’re more than familiar with.

“Yessss…” she hisses as another drop falls onto her skin. “I feel so…” her mouth lies open as you continue letting the oil drip and pool, the floral scent filling your nostrils.

“So what?” you ask.

Her eyes bore into yours as she bites her lips between her teeth, her hand still gripping hard into your leg muscle. “I like the pain. It’s like… I don’t know how to explain it…” she breathes. “Like a sensation I don’t want to ever end.”

You take your free hand and gently massage it in, taking time to work over her nipples and stomach. “God, that feels so good…” she whispers, her hand now digging into the muscle of your thigh. You place the candle back on the cake, turning to pay special attention to rubbing your hands over her muscles.

The heady scent of the oils mixed with the residual alcohol still flowing through your system brings a whole new dizziness to the atmosphere, and you feel as though the whole situation is only becoming heavier. You reach over to your phone sitting on the night stand, and flip your music to some psychedelic playlist. The distorted guitar and scratchy bass sounds bring you both to a new plane, and you take the moment to recognize the woman you have your hands on, and how she feels underneath them.

Her eyes flutter open and closed as your hands drift, massaging the soft oils across the mountains and valleys of her body. “You want me to do you?” she asks, eyes flicking back to the candle.

You shake your head. “No, shh. It’s your birthday, just relax.”

She smiles a little as she gets comfortable again, moving her body a little closer to yours on the bed. Your hands travel up her shoulders and neck, slowly kneading the tense muscles. Then you move on to her hips and waist, squeezing at the thickness of her. You feel yourself getting turned on all over again just by touching her this way. You watch as her hands drift across the tops of her legs, gripping at her own thighs. The visual is almost too much, watching as her fingertips pull at her skin. You reach to grab the still-lit candle, adjusting your body to sit beside her legs.

“‘M gonna try your legs, that okay?” you ask.

“Yeah, go ahead…” she mumbles, her eyes still rolling around behind her eyelids. You move between her legs and let the wax drip onto her inner thighs, not really caring if any lands on your comforter. “Ffff…” she hisses, biting onto her bottom lip. Her face contorts from pain to pleasure as the oil cools, and you replace the candle, making your way back to massaging her.

Your hands nearly cover the entirety of her upper thighs, your fingertips digging into the skin just as hers had done a second ago. You push the oil all around, paying special attention to start at her knees, and slowly work your way up. You have half a mind to lick into her again, seeing it now from this view, but you stop yourself. Your thumbs rub into the creases where her legs meet her heat, and she practically moans out at your touch.

“You’re being such a fuckin’ tease, Daniel,” she says, her hands cupping her breasts.

“Mmm, I don’t think you understand how hard it is to stop myself right now…” you huff.

She bites her lips again and shakes her head side to side, obviously feeling the same emotions as you. This doesn’t feel like it normally does, and you feel more anxiety than ever to satisfy her. You watch as she reaches her hands for you, signaling for you to get things going.

“Don’t stop yourself then,” she stutters, her voice almost shuddering. Her hand grips into your hair again and pulls you up, your hands crawling up either side of her as her nails claw and pull at your back.

Suddenly your mind finds itself again as you remember to grab protection. You balance your forehead on her sternum, both of you already panting and sweaty as you pull yourself away to reach for your bedside drawer.

“No, just—it’s fine,” she says, grabbing onto your arm.

You meet her with a puzzled look, not quite understanding that she’s changing her mind on a whim. This is one part of your agreement that you both have always stuck to.

“What? I’m—“

“Just…it’s fine. Don’t get it,” she says, giving you a look that could kill. “It’s been six months…right…”

You think it over, rolling the thought over and over in your mind. “You sure?”

She nods, “Yeah, yeah I’m sure. I’m…we’re good. I promise.”

You feel your heart growing in your chest, feeling a new wave of anxiousness and…something else bubbling up. It’s almost blinding you to even think about what’s about to take place, this already feels so different than before.

The slick of the oil across your chests make your bodies slide against one another as you line yourself up, both hands on either side of her head. Her hands gently drift across your hips, a devilish smirk sneaking across her lips.

“Gonna feel you for real for the first time…” she says gently, looking more excited than you’d seen her in ages.

“Yeah, no pressure,” you answer, pressing yourself through her folds. The sensation alone is making you quake, feeling her against you without a barrier.

“What, you nervous or something?” She asks, digging her nails into your scalp.

You clench your jaw, feeling the tip enter her just a little bit. “Kinda.”

“Daniel…shut up. No you’re not.”

“I swear,” you reply, pressing in just a little more. “Different now, like this.” You feel your heart beating from your ribcage.

Her hands grip behind you, pulling you in towards her, but you hold back. “S’okay, just me… please…” Her legs lift and her ankles cross at your lower back.

You push forward, telling yourself it’s okay to fill her all the way to the hilt. It’s now or never, and you’ve waited so long for this, wanted her for real for so long. You make sure to watch her face as you bottom out, taking in every single detail that you can.

HER POV

It’s almost dreamlike…

The dim and comforting glow of the room, the sweet scented oil that’s relaxed your muscles, the dying feeling of excitement from the gift Danny had gotten you…

But mostly, the feeling of his body towering over you and buried as deeply as he can get, finally without the use of protection.

You’d been wanting Danny for real for longer than you’d like to admit, now, and now that it’s finally happening, it’s almost as if you couldn’t have dreamt it up any better. Of course he feels nervous…you do too. Something in the air has shifted, and it’s not just because you both had finally admitted to wanting more than your predisposed agreement.

“Fuck, Danny…” you can’t help but yelp in a pitiful high-pitched squeal. Feels just like you always thought, but somehow better.

Much, much better.

He begins to pick up a pace after you lock your ankles against him harder, forcing his hips to find a rhythm. “You good?” he asks, almost shyly.

“Yeah, better than good, shit…”

His left hand grips your jaw with a little force before he brings his lips to yours in a heated mess. His thrusts are working in perfect time, hitting you in just the right spot to tighten the knot deep inside you already.

“You feel so perfect baby…god, never thought I’d have you like this…” his lips are hot against your skin as he speaks, his teeth nipping at your sensitive spots every few seconds.

“Leave a mark, baby… gimmie a reminder…” you breathe into his ear, making the light nips on your chest switch into slightly painful lovebites that you’re positive you’ll be able to see turn into bright red marks tomorrow. He growls into your skin as his teeth sink in just enough to make you squirm beneath him.

Though the room is flickering with a tangerine glow, the multicolored vibrance of the light flashing behind your eyes brings a whole new depth to what you’re experiencing, an overwhelming feeling of unwarranted pleasure that is undoubtedly ripping you apart at the seams. He’s all you’ve ever wanted, better than anything you’ve ever felt, and he’s been living under the same roof as your best friend for way too long.

You can tell he’s getting closer by the tumbling of his thrusts, but you swear you never want it to end. The euphoria taking over your mind is making you dizzy.

Suddenly he slows down a little bit, rolling himself to the bed but keeping himself inside as he plucks you to straddle his lap. Your hands find his pecs as you begin swirling your hips, feeling him at a completely different angle, now. His curls are laid out behind him on the white blankets, and his chest is gleaming from the oils.

You begin bouncing on him, his hands gripping into the thick muscle of your thighs as you grind on him. His head leans back, his jaw moving between hanging open and clenching tightly. “Y/N, shit…I’m not gonna be…”

You can feel the twist in your stomach, the deep tightening letting you know that you are close, too. You lean down and press a slow and needing kiss to his lips, showing him all the emotion that’s currently coursing through your body in the act. “Me too baby, just do it. Want to feel you…” you stammer through the ravaging feeling of your impending orgasm. You squeeze him hard, sending you both over the edge, tumbling down together in a flustered mess of echoed praises for one another.

He stays buried inside you for just a few seconds as you both come down, neither of you wanting to be the first to speak when you finally catch your breath. After a minute of silence, you let yourself come out of the cloudy bliss, sliding yourself up and off of him.

As soon as your body hits the bed beside him, he’s craning over you again, gathering you up into his arms into the most loving embrace you’d felt from him yet.

“Every six months isn’t gonna work for me anymore, Y/N…” he admits, fully submitting himself with an honest look in his eye. “I just…”

“Me neither, Danny. It’s not enough. Won’t ever be enough,” you admit, taking his face in your hands. And it was true, after experiencing him tonight in the way that you did, there was no way you’d ever be able to wait for him again. There’s too much emotion involved that you’ve both been hiding for too long. Too much still yet to explore.

“Stay, please? And not just for tonight,” he whispers, his thumb gliding across your cheek.

You nod. You know there’s nothing on this earth you want more than to wake up every day next to him…the friend who has always been just a little bit more.

“Okay,” you concede, sliding your body into his.

“Okay? Yeah?” He asks with an excited lilt.

“Yes. I’m not going anywhere,” you respond. “Couldn’t leave you if I wanted to...”

The low chuckle that rumbles through his chest and onto your cheek pressed against it feels so longingly familiar that you wonder why you ever thought it wouldn’t work out to begin with. “What took you so long?” he asks, wrapping and squeezing you hard.

“Could ask you the same…” you laugh into his chest.

You fall asleep with him that night a different woman than the one you were when you walked into his room, and not just because you’re a year older, now. You’d finally gotten everything you’d ever wanted.

Danny nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, sleep already lacing his voice. A soft feeling of comfort washes over you as you realize how safe and protected you feel in his arms, and how you aren’t too shy to admit that this feels more right than you could have ever anticipated.

Now you won’t have to wait six months to share your love with him again. You’ll be able to share it with him tomorrow, over coffee in the kitchen.

He presses a sweet kiss to your temple as you let the heaviness of sleep overtake you, already falling into a dazed place of complete contentment.

“Happy birthday, baby.”

Taglist:

@wetkleenex-gvf @britney-gvf @gretas-sweat @josh-iamyour-mama @highway-tuna @bestfriendsallstrungout @jjwasneverhere @gretavanbrie @writingcold @thewritingbeforesunrise @myleftsock @edgingthedarkness @its-interesting-van-kleep @jjsooobsessed @ageofcj @starcatcher-jake @capnjaket @cozyjakey @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @stardustjake @dancingcarbon @builtbybrokenbells @gretavangroupie

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bendydudeinc · 2 years

Text

YOU GUYS ARE INSANE. I just started writing on here like a week ago, to be honest I didn’t think I was doing that well, and I already have nearly 500 likes in total. Thank you incredibly so much for supporting me, I’m having so much fun!

Now, for a little late Valentine’s Day treat because what kind of father would I be if I didn’t feed you sluts?? February 14th is overrated anyway (all characters are aged up 18+/when they become pro hero’s)

MHA CHARACTERS AND HOW THEY’D SPEND VALENTINES DAY WITH YOU💘

Izuku

Absolutely loves spoiling his baby for Valentine’s Day ugh

Makes your favorite breakfast

Gives you head and makes you cum on his face at least twice before you get up to eat

Runs a rose and salt bath for you and gives you a massage after

Sends chocolate and flowers straight to the house for you

Sweet texts throughout the day even when you’re next to him hehe

“Hey baby you look so beautiful next to me on your phone rn”

Loves making cute home-made anniversary gifts together awh

Sends you a video of him jerking off in the bathroom as you watch TV

You send one back of you cumming on the vibrator he got you as one of your presents

Ravages you on the couch when he comes back

The cutest notes ever on all your gifts omg

LOVES home-made meals and staying in with his baby for holidays

Let’s you help will Valentine’s Day dinner and teases you the whole time

Grazes your ass or kisses your neck every time he passes you in the kitchen

Get ready for the most sensual, skin on skin, sweaty, lewd sex you’ve ever had in your life

Shower with round two after of course. Uses the shower head on you until you’re shaking uncontrollably <3

Makes hearts on your body with hickeys and takes pictures to “admire later”

Katsuki

Imma be straight up, he thinks Valentine’s Day is fucking stupid

BUT. We all know he’s sensitive. If he knows you like it, it’s all for you

Sends stuff to your work so everyone knows you’re taken

Gets you a ton of presents, boys rich

Takes you out after work to all of your favorite stores and lets you pick out anything you want

Nearly gets hard in public when you innocently pick out a cute lingerie set

Scoffs at all the cringy Valentine’s Day gifts, makes you giggle

Angrily makes out with you in public whenever anyone dares glance at you

Gets you matching boxers hehe

Gets “annoyed” and acts patronized when you get him gifts but secretly keeps them forever

Orders food to the house, prefers spending the evening alone with you

LOTS of physical affirmation. Precious boy gets nervous with words

Mmmmm body praise. Not one inch of you is left untouched or without kisses

Is touching you all evening and night long, gets you worked up over hours of tantalizing foreplay

The sex is rough, needy, and filthy. You see god multiple times throughout it

He has stamina like the devil. Can’t handle it? Yes you can he makes you handle it

Wax play

Makes you scream and cry so everyone knows you have the best fuck for Valentine’s Day

Amajiki

SWEET BABY AH he definitely likes Valentine’s Day

He’s embarrassed by it, but loves the cringy couple stuff

Makes you breakfast in bed and runs you a bath with all your fav self care products

Couples face masks and matching pjs omg cute

You both get each other a ton of gifts

So many stuffies for you

Lots of validation and kisses for both of you all day <3

Doesn’t care if you go out or stay in, just wants to be with you

Looks soooo good in a suit if you decide to go out though, teases you for it over dinner oh lawd

Long, sweet, sensual sex. Lots of switching and very vocal

Tentacles, overstimulation mmmhmmm

Loves seeing you brain dead and melting from pleasure on top of him

Loves cumming inside of you and claiming you

He’s soooo soo sensitive, could cum from your voice

So fun to overstimulate him and see his face contort in embarrassment and pleasure <3

You fall asleep in his arms, him whispering how thankful he is to have you

Mina

THE goddess of Valentine’s Day

Expects you to ask her to be your Valentine. SO excited when you do

You make Valentines breakfast for each other and watch cute movies

Shower together afterwards and suck each other to tears

Matching Valentines Day outfits or she refuses to go out in public

Valentines shopping spree, you spoil each other hella

Matching lingerie sets, you take a bunch of sexy Polaroid photos

At home couples nail and spa day

Her Valentines makeup would be amazing too omg, she’d giggle at how flustered her beauty makes you

Lots of cute pictures of her and you together are getting posted

You both leave the other persons name spelled in hickeys on your thigh

take her to all her favorite sight seeing places and bring some 🍃

Mmmhmmmm high car sex with Mina

You get mcdonalds and get stoned for Valentines dinner

You watch the sunset and 69 on your back patio hehe

Denki

I think he’d hate Valentine’s Day until he gets with you. Then he’s all over it

You wake up to him kissing down your body, marking every memorized sensitive spot

“Goodmorning sweetheart. Happy national fucking day” that had made you giggle

He insisted on making you breakfast despite your protests

He sucks at cooking. You ended up convincing him to make it together

You feed each other messy ass pancakes while trying to keep a straight face

It turns into both of you giggling uncontrollably and covered in syrup

Which turns into you spread across the table as he cleans maple syrup off of your body with his tongue

Takes you out wherever you want, but I think he’d like going to a bar

Sexy matching valentines outfits gahhh

Y’all are practically humping each other at the bar

Fucks you like a wild man in the bar bathroom when one of your dances gets him too riled up

Fucks you again when you’re home, the slow kind that drives you insane

You have a gift exchange for each other, he def spoils his baby

Gets you a ton of cringy Valentines Day stuff for you both to laugh at

Can’t keep his hands off you, touching you in some way all day

Mmm electricity play and overstimulation after you smoke weed

Shotou

Doesn’t really get the whole Valentine’s Day thing, but is happy to just be with you

Goes wherever you want no hesitation, keeps asking what else you want to do after each activity

Has his hands touching you in some way almost all day

Gets everything you look at despite you saying not to, boy has hella money y’all

Gets you two the most beautiful promise rings ever

Little simp is grinning at you all day, just can’t stop admiring you

Gets you every different flower bouquet at the store because he forgot your favorite and didn’t wanna miss anything

It made him really happy when you hung all of them up in the kitchen to dry and keep after a few weeks

He has hearts in his eyes when you show off all your new clothes for him

He ends up getting you off on his thigh and cumming in his pants

“Sorry honey. You looked so wonderful putting on a show for me.”

Oh fuck this man looks good in a suit, and he knows it gets you

Takes you out somewhere fancy for dinner and squeezes your thigh every time the waiter talks to you

Makes you cum under the table with just his finger grazing your heat through your clothes

He knows you get yourself worked up seeing him so handsome

No I don’t think you understand. He looks so absolutely sexy in a godamn suit

Finally gets you home after dinner and fucks you sensually in missionary for hours

Fills you up with load upon load

Your pleasure is his

Goes absolutely feral hearing you moan his name

“Just like that sweetheart, messy little thing. Making me feel so good.”

Aizawa

Oh lawd almighty. You’re his all day no matter what

Prefers staying home with you, needs to be all over you all the time

Deep, passionate kisses all over your body as if it’s the last time he’ll ever touch you

Marks you up real good and takes pics to admire later

Makes you all three meals and literally doesn’t let you do any work all day

Takes you out somewhere nice for dinner after you beg him, you want to dress up

He’s not complaining, he doesn’t stop checking you out once over dinner

Makes you wear something that reveals the love bites on your neck

Gives you a full body massage and fucks you in the bath when you get home

Loves the way your moans echo off the bathroom walls. Makes sure you’re loud for him

Gets you your favorite flowers and a basket full of all your favorite snacks and goodies

Leaves it on the table for you to find because he doesn’t like being sappy

Gets you a new vibrator and lingerie set to try out in front of him

Ties you up suspended in the air when you get too shy and try to cover your crotch

Makes you look at him as you cry for mercy and beg him to remove the vibrator from you

He doesn’t, loves the way you soak through your lingerie as you gush into your underwear over and over

Licks the mess off of you and proceeds to give you head for another hour of overwhelming sensitivity

#mha smut #deku smut #bakugou smut #todoroki smut #denki smut #aizawa smut #izuku smut #katsuki smut #shoto smut #kaminari smut #mina ashido #mina smut #shotou todoroki

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pondslime · 1 year

Text

subterranean

FANDOM : house of wax (2005) PAIRING : bo sinclair x afab!fem!reader RATING : explicit 🔞 WORDCOUNT : 3.9k

Reader POV. Basement fuckery. He tells you it's to keep you humble. It’s really just to keep you scared. The distinction doesn’t matter. You end up here again and again, knees biting into the concrete.

Crossposted on A03 here.

⚠️ Stockholm Syndrome. VERY dubious consent under duress. This was supposed to just be porn without plot. But then I lost my goddamn mind. Oops. Decent amount of weird prose. Depersonalization and derealization. Pet play (but make it weird and kinda metaphorical). Collaring. Forced boot riding. Vibrator and anal plug use. Bondage/gagging/edging. Bo at his absolute WORST (his natural state), being smug and mean and awful. Dirty talk dialed ALL the way up. Extremely dehumanizing and degrading language. Mind break elements. LOTS of backhanded praise. ⚠️

You always got too comfortable.

A lifetime before—when you were first here—you sat on this mattress with him, swallowing down mouthfuls of cold beef and carrots. You can remember the soup swirling in the can, murky and brown like a puddle of stagnant rainwater. He hadn't bothered to warm it up for you, but it hadn’t mattered. The food was something. Sometimes it felt like everything.

You licked the broth off the spoon as he plugged another tape into the VCR.

“One of my favorites.” He told you. Of course it was. Every movie he showed you down here was one of his favorites. Every can of soup might be the last. It was always the same things, over and over.

That’s when you started to lose track of time, you think—when you’d started to cling onto all that nothing.

Time wasn’t all that bad of a thing to lose, was it? Who needed it when his thumb was rubbing against your knee, stroking up your skin? The soup was cold, and his hand was warm. You traded one for the other and you liked it.

Funny. Thoughts like that always felt like they came with an or else tacked at the end.

A chunk of potato sat unpleasantly on your tongue—almost bitter, gravel in your mouth. Just like everything else, you swallowed it down.

He pressed play, his fingers drifting up your thigh. The TV quality was fuzzy, interrupted by the occasional flicker of static. Sometimes the films he chose would start in the middle of scenes. You’d get brief glimpses of things he’d recorded over—the triumphant blare of a talk show theme cutting off mid-note, dropping you in media res. He always assured you that you weren’t missing anything. At least that was one thing he didn’t bother lying about.

The movie wasn’t why you remembered that day, though. It was because of something he’d asked you.

“Where’d ya’ grow up?”

You hadn’t known what to say. He never asked you things like that. Your confusion only deepened when you turned towards him. There was no tension in his jaw, no furrowing of his brow. He looked, for the first time, wholly and startlingly calm.

When you failed to answer, he leaned forward and switched the TV off. He never did that either.

“Tell me ‘bout it. Whatchu do out there, anyway?”

You always regret not lying to him.

The world had shrunk down so much in the time you’d been in the town that it almost felt like you could gather it up and stuff it in your pocket.

You think about home. It looks different now.

Spidery tendrils of dust cling to the gaps between the balusters. It’s so difficult to get light in the house. No matter how many windows you open, there are always corners lost to shadow.

It’s strange how you could be up there one day, replacing the bulb under a fringed lampshade—and the next, you’d be tumbled back underground.

Just last week, you were lying on the couch in the living room.

The dog had padded into the room. She’d been gone for the better part of the day. With the doors unlocked, she went wherever she pleased. It had worried you at first, but it didn't anymore. She'd never leave town. She knew better.

At least, that’s what he’d said.

“Come here, beautiful.”

Jumping up, she curled into the space beside you. You wrapped your arm around her, wrinkling your nose. She reeked terribly of dog, stale corn chips and dirt and musk. You wondered if she might let you give her a bath now that you were in her good graces. It took a while to get there, but she came around. In a manner of speaking, the same thing had happened with you.

Pretty funny, huh?

Earlier, you'd been thinking about the puppies in the pet store window. Did she know about them? Slumbering away behind glass and dust, forever only a couple breaths old. Click. A switch was flipped, and they were as alive as they would ever be, nestled on newspaper shavings. On days like this, did she ever make her way down the hill to see them?

“Girls don’t last in this town.” You murmured, scratching behind her ear. “Just me and you, yeah?”

With a huff, she buried her head in the crook of your neck. It seemed like she was done listening to you.

That was fair, really. Half the time you weren’t even saying what you were really thinking anymore—and when you did, you weren't entirely sure that you made much sense. So much of yourself was locked up in your head and you kept forgetting where you left the keys. It all got clogged up inside your skull and oozed out of your mouth in a trail of sickly platitudes. You were just so thankful, so grateful.

“Sorry.” You whispered. You were always sorry for something, and sometimes you even meant it.

The rays of light were receding off of the arm of the couch, crawling up the wall. Your thoughts filled the living room. You could almost see them floating through the air, bouncing off each other like bubbles. Fleeting, effervescent things, popping as soon as you tried to track their paths. When you turned your head, you could smell his cologne. It was his jacket, hanging discarded over the couch cushions.

For a sudden, terrifying moment, you missed him.

That’s when you said the prayer. You didn't know where you meant for it to go. You guessed it was for whoever was around to hear it. Most days it was him and some of the time it was his mother. Both choices rang false. If God was still in this town, it was here, caught in these beams of light. Or maybe God was the dog heavy on top of you, her breath a rhythmic rumble against your throat.

Maybe you wouldn’t last long. Maybe it was all just wishful thinking.

Today, Bo fastens the collar around your neck. The leather feels heavy against your skin.

He tells you it’s to keep you humble. It’s really just to keep you scared. The distinction doesn’t matter. All the light bulbs you screw in will eventually need to be replaced. Wiping away the dust only gives way to more dust. You'll end up here again and again, knees biting into the concrete.

This almost feels more like his room than the one he sleeps in up at the house. Here, you can feel him more than anywhere else. There's more of you down here too. Real, tangible parts of yourself. Look around. There you are in the stain on the mattress, the blood crusted on the vinyl.

Welcome back, baby.

You keep your gaze on the ground, searching for something to bore your eyes into. Your eyes land on his shoes. Flecked with dirt, they bear obvious signs of wear. There’s a sizable hole in the toe of one of them. You focus in on that as he readjusts the collar, tightening the strap around your neck.

Embarrassment heats your cheeks as you hear him click the leash into place. Even without looking up at him, you can picture the expression on his face. It isn’t a good one. You still can’t decide if he looks more or less like himself when he screws his face up like that.

Tugging roughly at the leash, he forces you to look up at him. Wrists bound; your hands flex uselessly against your back.

“Please—”

Without warning, he sticks his fingers into your mouth, forcing them to the back of your throat. You choke, your hands flexing in panic behind your back. When he pulls them out, you cough, eyes watering.

“Now, normally I like hearin’ you, baby.” He says, smiling down at you. His face is a discordant thing. All American, boy next door. A slice of apple pie that someone put a cigarette out in. “But you know somethin’—”

He crouches down in front of you, still smiling. You watch him silently, shifting anxiously on your knees.

“I never did meet a dog who could talk.” Reaching over, he flicks at the metal ring on the collar. “Feels wrong.”

Dropping the leash, he gets to his feet, striding away. You crane your neck to the side as he rustles around behind you. After a moment, he lets out an affirmative grunt.

Quickly, you pivot your head back to the front. Making his way back to stand in front of you, your eyes flash to the item in his hands. Seemingly amused by your concern, he dangles it in front of you.

It’s a ball gag, shiny and black—noticeably a hair newer than the rest of the junk down here. Maybe he bought it just for you. It’d make a pretty lousy gift, but then again, he was always shit at stuff like that.

He had an incredible knack for getting you shit that you never asked for. Everything came with conditions, a laundry list of provisos and conditions that you didn't remember signing up for. Everything he gave you was actually for him.

“Open up, baby.”

Before you can think to do as he asks, his thumb forces your mouth open, pressing down on your teeth. You sputter as he forces the gag into your mouth, securing it around the back of your neck.

“That’s better, yeah?” He asks, grabbing hold of the leash again.

You stare up at him, exhaling tight bursts of air through your nose. You tilt your head a bit, working your jaw around the ball. Your teeth rest uncomfortably on the rubber.

“You been so good today, think we outta give that pussy some attention, huh?” He smirks. “Whatchu think?”

You whine, the noise coming out in an embarrassingly wet gurgle. Spit runs out of your mouth, dripping down your chin and trickling onto your neck.

“So cute.” His voice is syrupy sweet. He can play at authenticity, but never with you.

He kicks your thighs apart with his foot, nudging the tip of his boot between your legs. His eyebrows shoot up expectantly as he nods down at you.

“Go on, then.”

Disgust is an old friend. She disappears for months at a time, only to show up unexpectedly as if no time has passed. She’s back again, turning your stomach around in her hands. You tilt your hips down. Rubbing yourself against the tip of his shoe, you wonder if he’s doing this for old times' sake.

Rocking forward, you imagine a glossy magazine cover. You could see him on the cover of one. He does have the face for it, when he bothers to put it on.

Bored? 50 Ways to Keep the Spark Alive!

Your jaw is beginning to ache. Bo's hand strokes softly at the top of your head. You hate that the pressure against your clit almost feels good. Your mind unhelpfully supplies more article titles, bubbling up in your mind in obnoxiously curly lettering.

10 Mouth Exercises For The Modern Woman. Have You Tried Screaming? It’s All The Rage in This Town. Once You Start, You Won’t Want to STOP!

“That’s it.” He grins. “What a little slut.”

You look up at him pleadingly, another dribble of spit running down your chin.

“Always got told ya’ shouldn’t let dogs up on the bed.” He muses, the amusement plain in his voice. “But you been on your best behavior, huh?”

Last week, you fell asleep on the couch. You woke up somewhere else.

It was dark and you were pressed against something warm. Not the dog, not the light. Those were both gone. His jacket hanging off the side of the couch, maybe. But it was moving now, and so were you.

“Gotta getcha to bed.” He’d muttered, carrying you up the stairs.

You lay across Bo's lap, the side of your cheek against the dirty mattress. You shudder, your legs shaking.

“Pretty girl.” Reaching over, he tugs you up by the leash, forcing your head back.

Every breath you take seems to make your muscles clench around the plug in your ass. He works it in and out of you slowly and you gulp, shallow breaths whistling out of your nostrils. Every time you jolt forward you can feel him press against you, hard against your belly.

“Hey. What’s wrong, baby? That hurt?”

You nod frantically.

“Huh. Funny…'cuz I don't think it does. You wanna know how I know?” You feel him spread you open, fingers dipping into your pussy. “You’re wet for it, baby.”

He pushes the plug deeper, and your head spins at the sensation. A warbling moan pitches out of your mouth as you feel it sink fully into you. You shiver uncontrollably, whimpering around the gag. Saliva gathers on your tongue, and you feel it spill out of the side of your mouth, pooling under your cheek.

“Good.” He rumbles out, stroking his knuckles along your back. “That’s my good girl.”

You squeeze your eyes shut when you feel him nudge something between your legs. With a click, the vibrator buzzes to life. You let out a startled cry as he strokes it along your pussy.

“It’s nice, huh?” He chuckles. “Don’tchu act like I never gave you anything.”

The vibrator teases against your clit in short bursts, pressing down just long enough to leave you panting before he pulls it away. Almost enough, not quite. You arch back uselessly, chasing after that glittery warm sensation. He laughs a bit, holding the vibrator just above your clit.

You can feel the edge of pleasure, but it’s nothing more than a distant dull thrum. He keeps you hovering over it for what feels like forever, squirming over a feeling that’s hardly there. You bite down on the gag, your sob watery and muffled around the rubber.

“This body’s all mine, girl.” He murmurs, running his thumb down your spine. “I ain’t gotta make it feel good.”

With a hum, he rests the vibrator fully onto your clit. The sensation you’ve been chasing envelopes you, shimmering through your core. Nasally, high-pitched whines escape you in quick, desperate succession.

“But I do, don’t I? ‘Cuz I’m just so sweet.”

You open your eyes, staring up at him in bleary gratitude. He presses down on the plug. The discomfort has crested over and all you feel now is loose and pliant. You moan around the gag, your eyes fluttering.

“You like having somethin’ in your ass while I play with this pussy?”

And you nod, humming out your agreement.

“Mmm-hmm? Yeah?” He teases, mimicking your garbled reply. "That's good, baby. That's real good. Reckoned I’d fuck your ass today, but that pussy’s gettin’ nice and wet for me. Whatchu think? Which hole you want fucked?”

You mumble incoherently through the gag.

“All of ‘em?” He exclaims, the grin evident in his voice. “Well, ain’t that real sweet. Good answer, baby.”

He keeps talking, but it’s getting harder to focus on what he’s saying.

“Next crew that comes through here—maybe I’ll tell ‘em I got a slut who needs breakin’ in. You spread those legs so nice, sure you’d fuckin’ love it.”

The image flashes through your mind. Hands everywhere, laughter and heat and friction from a kaleidoscope of people destined for death. You’re in the middle of all of those faceless people—a tribute to be used up, one last meal for a parade of living corpses.

You’re all destined for the same end, but theirs is closer than they know. Yours is prolonged, tied around touches and salt.

Bo would be in the corner, lighting another cigarette—watching, because he’s always watching. Mouth twitching into a smile because he’s right again. You’re exactly what he thinks you are. You’ll keep your eyes on him because you can’t look at anyone else. After all, if it isn’t his hands, could you even feel it? Would it even count?

The panic is sudden and hot, twisting inside your chest. A desperate little whine builds at the back of your throat.

If I’m everybody else's, I can’t be yours.

“I’d have a hard time sharin’, though.”

Relief. The vibrator pulses against your clit and your eyes go unfocused.

“’S funny. Gotchu down here—and nobody knows.”

Between your legs, your pussy feels pathetically wet, sloppily sliding along the vibrator. You almost wish he’d keep you like this forever, jolts of pleasure lapping hungrily between your legs.

“If there’s even anybody out there lookin’ for ya’…” He muses. “Wish they could see ya’ now, huh? Don’t think they’d feel bad for you, baby.”

Pleasure rolls dizzily through you, electric licks of sensation as he rubs the vibrator against your clit. The rubber in your mouth is an anchor, it feels good on your teeth.

“Betchu thought you were really somethin’ out there.” He chuckles. “How’s it feel to find out you ain’t? Feels good, don’t it?”

You open your eyes and nod up at him, panting out your agreement. Through the haze, you see him smirk. It’s a cruel, cold thing. You’re all full and useless, but he doesn’t need you to say it, because he knows. Thoughtlessly, you shift in his lap, trying desperately to spread your legs wider for him.

“Nothin’ but a little fucktoy.” He coos. “That’s all you are, baby. Want you to remember that.”

He doesn’t need to worry. You remember everything, except what counts.

“Good girls cum, baby. They can’t help it.”

You’re hurtling higher and higher, the pleasure battering against your brain. That’s where the memories are, where the time used to be. It feels better to fill it with this. But then again, you’ve known that from the start.

“Go on, baby. Cum all pretty for me, yeah?”

And you do, a million times over.

He keeps the vibrator pressed firmly against your clit as you tense up, your hands clenching into tight fists behind your back. Your orgasm is a bone-deep shiver, wracking your legs with uncontrollable chills. The pleasure throttles through the last of your coherency, prizing a desperate noise from your throat. Maybe it’s a word. It might be his name. It might just be the time. Maybe this is how you find it again.

The buzz of the vibrator goes dim and far away as he holds it against you. You’re twitching somewhere above it. Each involuntary movement you make brings with it a new hiccup of sensation. Around you, the room seems to spin—whirling into a terrific blur of green and yellow.

It can be beautiful down here, if you squint.

When he lifts the vibrator off your clit, you pitch forward, warbling out a dizzy laugh behind the gag. You wait for the sound of the wand powering off. It doesn't come. Behind you, the buzzing is a low, incessant drone. You’ve barely managed to ground yourself when you hear it kick up a notch.

Click.

The sheets smell like all the thousand versions of you, each one answering questions she shouldn’t. Four walls surround you and they feel like they’re collapsing down on all sides. They could be made of plaster or stone, but they might just be something else. Your limbs, your heart, your mind, him. Separate appendages, but all linked. All part of the same crumbling structure.

A scream builds at the back of your throat as you feel him set it back on your clit.

“We ain’t done, baby.”

Your sleep is deep. Quiet. Only one dream.

Bo’s sitting on the edge of the bed, an inky blot in the gray morning light. He makes a move to stand up and you grab onto his arm.

“Go back to bed, angel.” He murmurs.

It almost sounds real enough.

When you wake up, you're alone. You try the door and find it unlocked.

Figures.

Upstairs, the shop is empty. There’s a can of unopened Coke on the counter. You crack it open and take a sip. Lukewarm bubbles of carbonation fizz over your tongue. God, he really was shit with gifts.

Walking up the hill, you catch your reflection in the window of a sedan. You look haggard, your hair a raggedy clump around your shoulders. You try the handle and it cracks open easily. Crawling into the dirty belly of the car, you wince as you lower yourself down into the seat. You sit with one leg dangling out, absentmindedly studying the dusty speedometer.

There are cars in other towns, parked on different streets. There are places without dust. There are always other futures. Sometimes you turn down the wrong road, and sometimes you die. Sometimes you don’t.

That’s just the way these things go.

You imagine the town collapsing in on itself like a pop-up book. There’s Bo, frowning down at it. He seemed like he’d been the type of kid that wasn’t allowed to check those kinds of things out from the library. He’d bring them back with pages ripped out, scrawled with pen marks. Pilled white card stock where faces used to be.

God, you’re miserably sore. It’s impossible to narrow down the ache to a certain part of you.

Lifting your leg into the car, you pull the door shut. The dust inside tickles your nose. Unthinkingly, you reach up, your fingers brushing against the metal buckle of the seatbelt. The sting is sharp and immediate. You pull your hand away with a hiss, your hand smarting. When you reach for the seatbelt again, you’re careful to avoid the clip.

You buckle yourself in. Click. Alive again, now more than ever. Wrapping your hands around the steering wheel, you close your eyes. The leather is hot against your palms, and it hurts a bit. Just a little. That’s just the pain again, but you don’t really mind. It’s something you can keep. It’s all yours.

Nothin’ you can’t handle, girl.

That’s what he said last night. Afterwards.

You were laying with your head in his lap, the itchy crust of dried spit against your cheek. It was then that you decided that you were so ugly that you had to be beautiful. You had to be worth looking at. You’d rolled over on your back, looking up at him through swollen eyes. That’s when he said it, so low and quiet that you almost didn’t register it. There’d been a an edge of pride to his voice.

Nothin’ at all.

A lick of pleasure thrums between your legs and your eyes flash open. You unbuckle the seatbelt and scramble out of the car, ignoring the pain that sings through your limbs.

Things like that? They always came with an or else tacked at the end. You remember that, don’t you? You couldn’t have forgotten.

Looming above you, the house is a dark blot of ink against the blue sky.

There were no collars for dogs in this town—they didn’t need them. They’d always find their way back home, pawing at the door for some scraps. The only leash is the one that exists in your mind. You can almost see it, trailing off your neck and up the hill, looped messily around the front doorknob.

You were going to die here with all that wetness between your legs, begging him to take out more of you with his teeth.

It's like he said.

You don’t need to tie up a dog if it loves you.

#I FINALLY finished this shit. it's horrific. tysm for coming there are drinks n snacks @ the door #we're goin back 2 ambrose I'm sorry 2 say #and our first stop? oh. just down these stairs #house of wax #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #slashers x reader #slasher community #x reader #my fics #in his basement like damn bitch u live like this #shit is dis cos tang #r/malelivingspace for fuckin real #I've stared @ these bingo bongo ass words for far too long. so I'm sure there's errors. but I will fix them when BRAINCELL lmao

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slasherhoe87 · 1 year

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Happy Monday honey𓆩♡𓆪

I was wondering if you could write a drabble of Michael Myers where you're dating him and he doesn't know you're into men with balaclava's, until one day he's on your laptop for something and he comes across your tumblr page that is full of guys with balaclava's on and something crawls into his mind.

Maybe smut and Michael being dominate <3

Thank you angel🥰

No problem Megan ❤. Ok!... I'm doing this one before work because I feel so guilty about not getting around to writing any of my other requests yet 🙈🤦🏼‍♀️ (I will get to them, I promise!)

OG/RZ/Peepaw Michael Myers x f!reader

18+ for graphic smut, con noncon, implied violence

Michael indulges in his s/o's balaclava kink:

You had been enjoying a cup of spiced tea on your worn-in recliner, scrolling through Tumblr on your laptop, simping over art and fanfics of dangerous men in masks and balaclavas.

You had always had a kink for masked men but until now it had only been "standard" horror movie masks, such as Jason's, Ghostface's, Vincent's wax mask, Leatherface's and especially your Michael's expressionless alabaster mask. Only recently had you come to appreciate the simplicity of the humble balaclava - Ghost from Call of Duty was the catalyst of this new attraction and you jumped head first into the rabbit hole of art and fiction of morally grey or downright psychotic men with toned bodies, balaclava'd faces and piercing eyes that burned through you with carnal need right down to your core.

As you took another sip of your tea you felt a presence to your left. Turning your head in that direction you see Michael standing motionless as a statue at the base of the stairs just staring at you. Top half of his overalls off of his torso and tied around his waist, mask slightly askew.

Instead of shrieking and jumping like you used to when you were not so accustomed to his sudden, silent appearances you smiled and got up from your seat.

"Did you have a good sleep, baby?" You ask as you place one hand on his chest and the other on his strong shoulder.

You receive nothing in return except for his blank gaze upon you, those darkened eyeholes of his mask as eerie as ever.

Not detoured by his normal silence and seeming disinterest, you give him a peck on the cheek of his mask and head into the kitchen to make him some lunch from yesterday's leftovers.

You hear the tv switch on as you pull out the ingredients to make a sandwich with the leftover chicken. As you begin slicing the cucumber you pause for a second to see Michael watching true crime again. You always wonder what goes through his mind when he sees the crimes of other killers. Is he impressed, unimpressed, indifferent, intrigued? Does he learn anything? You guess you'll never know unless Michael just one day decides to break his self-imposed silence.

xxxxxxx

Later that night you're turning your little house upside down looking for your laptop. You were so sure you had left it on the coffee table in the living room but... you guess not? You didn't blame Michael as he had never shown interest in the laptop before, and its not like you could ask him now anyhow as he was out butchering people to death. Yes, you are aware at how desensitised you have become to murder and death. Loving Michael forced you to accept his lifestyle - fast.

Huffing in annoyance you stomp over to the door leading to the garage, knowing for a fact it won't be there but its the only place you haven't looked yet. You push open the door and flick on the light, ready to immediately switch it off again because you hadn't been in the garage all day.

However, when your eyes fell onto the workbench, there your laptop sat surrounded by empty candy wrappers.

"Michael... what the hell" you mumble to yourself in confusion. You can't say you were really mad at him for using the laptop because he was more than welcome to. But you were just confused as he had never shown interest in it nor did you think he knew how to use it.

Scooping up all the candy wrappers you chuck them into the trashcan beneath the workbench and try to start up the laptop. You were met with nothing but a black screen. "Damn. Battery's dead"

You looked at the wall clock and decided to just call it a night. No Netflix for y/n tonight - insert sad face.

Closing your laptop you make for the door when you hear glass smashing from what sounded like the kitchen area.

Heart jumping to your throat you quickly flick the light off and hide under the workbench while looking at the door which lead into the living room. Surely Michael wouldn't smash in the back door?! He had a key and had stopped breaking into the house since the two of you started a relationship. That was a whole year ago!

Before you could think anymore, a pair of legs slowly walked past the garage door and into the living room. You couldn't get the clearest view of the intruder as only a small lamp was on in the living room - the rest of the house was dark.

Your panicked mind only presented 3 options for you to take:

1. Get out of the house and run to the neighbors

2. Either stay where you were or get upstairs and hide while waiting for Michael to return.

3. Get to your cellphone upstairs and call the cops.

Well.. the house keys for the front door were upstairs too and you didn't want to run out of the back door as you were barefoot and there was no doubt glass everywhere. You wouldn't get very far at all with cut up feet before the intruder catches you.

And you didn't exactly want the cops anywhere near you and your home for Michael's sake. So that left option 2. You just had to get upstairs... lots of places to hide and wait for Michael. You also come to realise that you absolutely needed to get Michael a cellphone for emergencies like this. A simple text in this situation could save your life. Why didn't you think of that before, stupid!?

Mentally shaking yourself from your delaying thoughts, you take a deep breath as silently as you can and creep towards the door. You sit on your haunches for a moment, straining your ears to listen for any sign of the intruder when you hear some soft movements from the dining room. Perfect. If you move now you'll have a chance to get upstairs without being seen.

As silently and quickly as you can you scuttle to the - thankfully - carpeted stairs. Just as you're about to take the first step you hear a crashing sound coming from the garage which sounded very much like hard plastic hitting a concrete floor. Your laptop. You must not have put it far enough back onto the workbench when you rushed to switch off the light.

You know for your own sanity you shouldn't have, but you did - you looked back to the dining room entrance.

And there staring at you from in the dark, illuminated only by a bit of moonlight stood a tall figure in faded black overalls and a... balaclava??

Shrieking you turn back around and make for your bedroom - intending to lock the door and climb out of your window onto the veranda's roof and to make your escape.

Your hear his heavy footfalls behind you, closer than what you would like as you scramble to the top of the stairs. Fear and adrenaline coursing through your veins like a raging river.

Michael where are you? I need you! You internally shout as tears begin falling from your wide, frightened eyes.

As you reach the top of the stairs a large, warm, calloused hand grabs your ankle painfully and roughly causing you to yelp. You try to kick at the man with your other foot but he throws his entire weight onto your body causing the air to be knocked out of you.

You cough while hitting at his shoulders and head with all your might but it doesn't seem to affect him at all.

He grabs you by both your arms and hauls you up onto your feet before swiftly turning you around to be pulled flush against his solid frame. You kick and scream as he takes you towards the bedroom where your panic rises even more at the prospect of what he might actually have in store for you there.

"No please don't! Just take anything you want, please! But just don't hurt me"

You are met with silence as the two of you enter the bedroom. He pauses in front of the bed and the tears stream out of you even harder. Your sobs finally overtake your screaming.

Suddenly and without warning you're flung towards your floor length mirror with your potential assaulter and murderer firmly placing his body flush behind yours. His eyes boring into your own through the mirror.

And that's when you see it. The man had positioned himself in such a way that the moonlight pouring through your window would reflect onto his masked face.

Your sobs instantly quietened as you saw one stormy grey eye heatedly gazing at you through the balaclava opening and one... scarred milky one.

Michael?

"Michael?" You tentatively ask as you sniffle - your struggling subsiding.

He nuzzles your neck and cups your breast, giving it a firm squeeze. You know that hand. You know it well.

Before you can think further, you're picked up and flung onto your bed, the old mattress squeaking in protest at the sudden weight.

Your mind gets whiplash at how suddenly your body responds to this new information and turn of events.

Michael climbs on top of you, not sparing you from his full weight. He straddles your hips, his bloodied hands gripping your wrists tightly above your head. His head is tilted to the side, eyes dilated and dark.

Your breathing has quickened, your nipples pebble and the juncture of your thighs moisten.

A sudden slap to your face causes you to gasp in surprise and before you can think on what just happened your thin spaghetti-strap tank is being torn off of you and you're being flipped onto your stomach as if you weigh little more than a feather.

"Mich--" you start but are stopped from finishing your question when a piece of your torn tanktop is stuffed into your mouth.

Your teary eyes widen when you feel your poor pajama bottoms being ripped off of your goosebump laden body too but immediately close when you feel thick calloused fingers run up along your wet slit from clit to ass.

You moan into the fabric in your mouth as two of his fingers push past your folds and into your eager hole.

You can hear Michael's heavy breathing as he roughly pumps his digits in and out of your slick cavern before adding a third and eventually a fourth.

Your muffled moans get louder and louder as your body squirms beneath his invasive ministrations. You feel so deliciously stretched out by his four long, thick fingers that your eyes begin to tear up again.

Your loosened hole clenches at nothing as Michael pulls out. You turn your head as best you can to see him behind you and moan once more as you view his balaclava in the moonlight. He takes both his thumbs and stretches your abused hole open as much as he can, admiring your slick, velvety tunnel.

You grip the sheets in anticipation as he releases your flesh and reaches for the zipper of his coveralls pulling them down far enough to reveal his glistening, red, swollen, massive member.

You mewl at the sight and wiggle you bottom in eagerness and want.

Michael obliges by roughly pushing your head back down into the mattress and without any indication rams his heavy, weeping cock into your needy pussy.

You scream and grip your sheets harder as he sets a brutal and unforgiving pace - no slow buildup or sensuality for this one. You can scarcely take it. Tears stream down your cheeks, saliva pools into the fabric stuffed in your mouth and your ass and hips jiggle and ripple with every brutal thrust.

Michael's hand leaves your smushed head and grips your hips in bruising force.

Your room is dark and quiet save for the sound of slick skin slapping against slick skin, grunts of exertion and muffled mewls and moans.

Just when you think you can't take anymore, Michael goes deeper and harder, stretching you wider with his monstrous girth, the tip of his cockhead punching against your cervix in exquisite pleasure-pain.

Your cheeks are hot and red, tear stained. Drool has finally broken past the fabric in your mouth and is dripping onto your sheets. Slick is running down your thighs as your loosened hole just cannot contain your shared juices any longer.

Michael leans forward to squeeze your breasts before pinching your nipples so hard you feel your pussy release a new spurt of moisture.

You want to tell him you cannot take anymore. Your body is turning to jelly, the pleasure plain is becoming overwhelming - every nerve of yours is on electric fire and if you produce any more drool you'll surely choke on it.

Michael leaves your breasts and instead begins his cruel ministrations onto your swollen, throbbing clit.

You begin to feel the tightening in your core, your lower abdomen tenses and you can hear Michael fast approaching his own orgasm too if those quiet gasps and slight jerks in his thrusts are anything to go by.

And finally with one hard slap to your clit and one final deep, bruising thrust inside your wrecked cunt you scream out your orgasm into your tanktop. Your abused pussy quivers and clenches around Michael's pulsating cock as it spurts out its thick ropes of cum within you.

Michael's breaths are heavy and laboured behind you as he pulls out. You hear the sopping squelch and feel the gush of liquids flow out of your red, raw, gaping cunt which is trying in vain to clench and hold onto all the juices that now pouring onto your bedding.

Your jellified arm slowly pulls the now sopping fabric from your mouth before you look behind to Michael. His toned and scarred chest is heaving and glistening with sweat. His eyelids sit low from satisfaction and his fingers idly circle your hips where they lie.

"You saw my.... interests on Tumblr didn't you? That's why you did all this tonight, right?" You ask lazily as you roll onto your back and look up at your still masked lover.

Michael tilts his head and continues to stare at you in silence. He reaches for the base of the black mask and pulls it off of his head and shakes out his dark blond curls. He tosses the mask onto your chest and disappears out of the bedroom.

You shake your head and smile to yourself as you clutch the balaclava.

You will always love Michael best in his signature white mask, but a bit of fun in a balaclava from time to time will certainly be a treat.

Perhaps you can show him all of your other kinks now too, seeing as he seems happy to indulge you. And maybe he has some of his own?

You get up to go enjoy a nice hot shower. Sore and stiff, but very very happy.

@megangovier20 hope you enjoy it girl. 😈

Not proof read as I did this before work.

#michael myers #og michael myers #rz michael myers #peepaw michael myers #michael myers x reader #michael myers x you #michael myers x y/n #slasher smut #slasher #balaclava #halloween #halloween 1978 #halloween 2018 #rz halloween #slasher fucker

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my-illness-and-me · 10 months

Text

People who are fully healthy, fit, and neurotypical seem to think that they are that way because they’re doing something right that the rest of us haven’t thought of, and not just because they got lucky.

“You are one stroke of bad luck, common viral illness, or traumatic event away from being just like me.” is honestly the most terrifying thing you can tell an abled person- and you should.

I was healthy and doing everything “right” too- right up until some inner switch flipped and my body crumbled right out from beneath me. Now I live my days like a ghost of my former self, just trying to make it through minute by minute. I am a shadow of my former self. I do not leave my house for things that do not directly enable me to keep my house. It hurts too much. I live in pain every day. It never goes away- the severity just waxes and wanes like the moon.

Everything I do has to be precisely calculated. I will never get better, and I will never be normal.

#invisible disability #spoonie #chronic illness #chronic fatigue #invisible illness #chronic pain #chronically ill #migraine

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honeyandhestia · 1 month

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- is it okay if i get things from amazon for my practice/worship?

because although i want to thrift i can’t atm because of distance

Hello! I think it’s okay to do whatever is affordable and accessible to you. I personally try to buy locally or from smaller businesses when I can but I understand that is a privilege. All that being said, I rarely buy anything for my worship to Hestia—it’s mostly items found around my house, in the natural world or handcrafted!

Altar:

Offering bowl filled with spices and herbs (I like cinnamon, cloves, ginger and sage)

Bowl can also include rocks/crystals (I recently included pebbles my preschoolers lovingly gave to me) or beads/trinkets/whatever.

A cup of water

A cup of tea or coffee

Small candles or scented wax

Dried or fresh flowers

Printed Hestia art (example)

Drawn Hestia sigils (x) (x) (x) (x)

Written prayers or poetry

Handmade items

Bedridden Hestia altar

Flameless hearths and devotions

Altar jar

Devotional acts:

Hestia small devotional acts

Bedridden devotions to Hestia

Simple ways to honor Hestia

Things I buy/have bought:

Wax melter

Scented wax (vanilla, cinnamon, herbs)

Beeswax candles

Scented soap

Prayer cards (x) (x)

I love supporting local artists, buying local honey, baked goods etc. as a devotional act!

I feel like Hestia is all about making your life and home comfortable so buying things that do that often double as something that could be used in worship or as an offering to her.

Ultimately do whatever feels best for you and your practice, I definitely bought more stuff when I was newer to worshipping and have now switched to mostly gathering and crafting what I need. I hope this helps! ❤️

#ask

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shuttershocky · 1 year

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Shoot do I have to actually get SR now? I thought I could skip it because Musou but that sounds so rad.

Fate/Samurai Remnant plays a lot like a musou that realized Fate/Extella was kind of ass to play through after every servant just buttonmashed random attack buttons to clear through the entire game, so while it's still a musou at it's core they actually make you think about things.

Many enemies will try to block your attacks, perfectly dodging a strike lets you do a Riposte that breaks through even a Servant's guard, once Iori fights in one style long enough (or pulls off certain moves) he enters a flow state that lets him switch styles while keeping a buff from the first style that encourages style swapping over the course of a fight, Saber actually fights in tandem with Iori (they take on enemies you don't, follow up on your attacks, sometimes even jump to your rescue when youre at low health), and non-trash enemies will actually try to kick your ass into next week by attacking often and reacting to you.

But more than that, it's just good. This was clearly a budget title for Koei Tecmo, but made with a lot of love and attention to detail.

A good example is how when Iori is asked what his goal for the Waxing Moon Ritual is, he responds that he's simply planning to end the ritual because it endangers people. It's a familiar answer—it's exactly what Shirou says in Fate/Stay Night—However, since Samurai Remnant isn't a visual novel, you can do things like wander around and examine the destruction left behind, and find stuff outside of the main story's view, like this.

While Saber and Lancer were having fun shooting fire and water all over the place and wrecking Asakusa, Iori's concern for his neighbors and city was absolutely right. One of them died that night in the crossfire.

You can go up to other townspeople and they'll be talking about how lightning struck the village, or mourning their destroyed shops or homes, and others will be expressing relief that Iori's okay after that disaster because his house was struck first.

These guys are the most generic of generic looking NPCs, and yet the detail in having NPCs actually deal with the aftermath of the sick anime fights while expressing relief that their neighbor Iori is okay actually breathes more life into the setting and makes it feel lived in than making an expansive open world sandbox.

#FSR spoilers

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carlsdarling · 1 year

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Girl i have n ideea. Imagine reader with those african braids and carl helping them get the braids out, and carl just finds the reader very hot, a lil bit later some smut and after care, like sjhsnsksjskaka, it will be very cute!💜💜

Getting br[laid]ed

Carl helps Y/N getting rid of her braids... Bit of a plot, then sex. Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, unprotected sex

The little braids in your hair were annoying you. You wished you hadn't let Jessie talk you into braiding your hair at the temples with lots of little colored beads into a cornrow-like hairstyle at Thanksgiving. You had only liked it for the first few days; then you thought it was childish, and now - a few weeks later - the beads had grown out quite a bit, too, and it looked odd.

You had stopped by Jessie's to have her undo the braids, but she hadn't been home, so you scowled and turned back around when Carl approached you. "Have you been to Ron's? I'm on my way to see him now, too," he said.

"There's no one home," you said tersely.

Carl regarded you inquiringly. "What's the matter?" he wondered. "You look upset."

"Oh, it's nothing," you replied. "I just wanted Jessie to help me get rid of these stupid beads and braids," you grumbled, "I can't do it alone."

"Well, I can help you," Carl offered. "It can't be that difficult," he said optimistically.

"Really?"

"Yes. Come with me," he urged you, and just walked ahead to his house. Once there, you went up to Carl's room. He gestured for you to sit on the floor in front of his bed, and took a seat on the bed himself. "Let's see," he said indecisively, fingering the strands of your hair.

It was plucking. "Ow," you complained.

"Sorry," Carl muttered. "The beads are pretty tight." He gently loosened them, one by one, and tugged at the braids. Bushy and wavy, your hair stood out from your head, and Carl had to laugh.

"What's so funny?" you asked, miffed.

"Look in the mirror," Carl snorted when he had removed all the braids. You stood up and walked over to his closet where a mirror hung.

"Oh my God," you looked at your reflection in horror. "I look like an exploded broom!" Hastily, you sought out the bathroom, where you smoothed your curly locks with water before returning to Carl. To your surprise, he had switched on the TV and lay down on the bed; he propped himself up on his elbow, turned on his side, and gazed at you. Not for the first time, you noticed how attractive he was. His shiny hair fell messily into his forehead. "What are you doing?" you asked in wonder. "Are you tired?"

"No, I just...I thought we could chill a little more. It started raining anyway." He tapped the spot next to him.

Hesitantly, you approached the bed and lay down next to him. "What's that?" you pointed to the TV, where someone had just been chased through a house full of wax figures and then was doused with hot wax.

"House of Wax," Carl answered, but he was looking blankly at you. His face was very close to yours, and before you could think about it, he kissed you softly on the lips, then pulled back and looked at you, waiting. You were completely perplexed. "I'm sorry, Y/N," Carl apologized, embarrassed. "I've wanted to do this for a long time, and I thought you'd like it too, so..." That's as far as he got, because you had closed his mouth with yours. Carl's lips were soft and rough at the same time, and you kissed tenderly at first, then more and more intensely. Carl's hands had found their way under your top, and you didn't object when he unhooked your bra and carefully began to stimulate your breasts. You inhaled sharply as he turned his attention to your nipples and they immediately became rock hard under his caresses. "Do you like that?" assured Carl hesitantly.

"Yes," you gasped, "Carl, go on." You clung to him as he continued to fondle your breasts, allowing him to undress you. You shivered in the cold air, and Carl flipped back the covers after also removing his shirt and tossing it next to the bed. You two crawled under the covers and continued, the atmosphere heating up more and more.

"Should we take off all our clothes?" whispered Carl, as you were already fiddling with his belt. You just nodded, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He smelled so delicious. You giggled as you finally lay together naked, groping insecurely for Carl's cock. It was bigger than you had suspected, and touching it caused you to moan involuntarily and get wet between your legs. You were amazed at how quickly your body was reacting to Carl's touch and his pure presence. Carl grabbed your hand and moved it up and down faster and harder, sighing lustfully. At the same time, he let his other hand move between your legs. You spread your thighs as he began to finger you, screaming out. "You're all wet," Carl whispered in fascination, finding your most sensitive spot, turning you into a whimpering, begging mess.

"Do you have condoms?" you stammered eagerly. You could no longer form a coherent thought, your whole being, thinking and feeling was focused on Carl and what you were doing with each other.

"No," Carl said contritely. "I can pull out, but if it's not safe enough for you, we can..."

"I want to, Carl," you said breathlessly. At that moment, you didn't care whether he pulled out or not, or whether you got pregnant or not. All you wanted was Carl. You were helpless against your desire, rolling onto your back and pulling Carl on top of you. You were so wet and Carl was so hard that his dick slid effortlessly inside you.

"Fuck, princess, I won't last long," Carl moaned, making short, quick thrusts. It took him no more than a minute to tense up completely. "I'm cumming," he announced and tried to pull out, but you held him tight.

"Do it inside," you pleaded, "Please, Carl. I don't care. Do it inside."

Carl closed his eyes, arched his back, and pumped with firm, deep thrusts. His cum was hot and plenty, and as you felt him squirting into you, your own orgasm came over you like a shockwave. Gasping for air, the two of you lay still.

Carl had his eye tightly closed, and soon his breathing rate revealed that he had fallen asleep. You were looking at his sweet face and stroking through his long brown hair when an idea came to you. You suppressed a giggle as you braided Carl's hair into many little braids.

Tags: @loveforcarl @knochentrocken0808

#the walking dead #twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes #carl fanfiction #carl grimes imagines #carl grimes smut

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shawnxstyles · 2 years

Text

addicted in the afterglow

DATE: OCTOBER 11, 2022

summary: you and harry despise one another, but have close mutual friends. at your friends’ party, the two of you get into an argument. when harry’s contradictions shock you, you consider if you’ve become addicted in the afterglow.

request: yes!

song: Afterglow- driver era!! (fucking love this song)

words: 4.6k

warnings: SMUT BITCHES (f- receiving [choking, rubbing, fingering, a little nipple play, mild edging] m- receiving [slight hair pulling, scratching] protected sex, dirty talk!!), language, loads of dialogue as always

note: part 2 is here!

frat/college!harry x college!reader

—

There were a lot of things in the world that you liked. Loved, even. Some of those things being your family (most of them), your dog back at home, your school, and your friends. You were grateful for so many things and tried your best to appreciate them. Your friends would say you’re one of the most kind-hearted and modest people they’ve ever met. Your friends meaning Sabrina (Rina), Raquel, and Rina’s twin brother Sean. You were probably most appreciative of them and for encountering them in your life. However, when they decided to bring other people into your little circle, you second-guessed their decision.

At first, you felt slightly offended like maybe you weren’t a good enough friend to each of them. But that changed the second Sean brought one of his friends to one of your “Hang Out and Hangover”s. Hang Out and Hangovers are kind of in its name; you all hang out after a long week of lectures and drink at someone’s place. The next day usually results in headaches and strong coffee, so that’s why it has to be somewhat planned out. You’re not really the impulsive type, as your friends would say.

But when it comes to Harry, the newest addition to your used-to-be perfect circle, you become everything your friends say you aren’t.

Harry is… appealing. He has this chestnut hair that spring curls naturally but he covers them with a hat. An annoyingly sharp jawline that he’d probably cut you with if he got the chance. He’s every girls’ dream height at a solid 6’0. He has the persona of a stereotypical frat boy, yet he still gets any girl he wants (but you would never, ever admit that to him).

You could stand him from a distance. Well, you could have. Past tense.

The day you actually talked to him shocked you, even though it shouldn’t have. Why wouldn’t the semi-popular frat boy be a dick? Why wouldn’t he be so arrogant? Why wouldn’t he flat-tire the back of your shoe? Or make sure the elevator was closed before you got on it? Or switch the song on the aux just because it was your favorite song? Anyone else could do the same things, but for some reason when he did it, it felt personal and on-purpose.

He joked around constantly with Rina and Raquel, and yes, they would agree-to-disagree occasionally, but he never had full-blown arguments with them like he did with you.

On one Friday night when you all decided to get together, you didn’t know Harry would be coming. Your friends knew you didn’t “fancy” him or whatever they said, but tried their best to make you two civil. But he didn’t know you would be there, either.

Which makes no sense because it was at your house.

“Oh great, he’s here. When were you guys going to break the news? Attention, attention, the biggest dickhead on the planet just walked through my living room,” You dramatically pretended to act shocked and put your hand on your heart. He closed the door behind him and rolled his eyes.

“It’s always a pleasure to be with you, truly. And for the record, I didn’t know you would be here, either.”

“It’s my apartment!!”

“Ohhh, I thought it was Raquel’s place. Now the horrible interior design makes more sense,” He says so sarcastically and mockingly, you wished you could wax his tongue off. You step closer to him, slowly closing in on him.

“Please! I bet my place looks ten times better than yours! Oh wait, you don’t even have your own place,” You sass back, crossing your arms. You’re pretty sure he just moved in with Sean and Rina.

“Having roommates means cheaper expenses. And I get to hang out with my friends. Work smarter, not harder, babe,” Harry taunts and it drives you cynical. Your friends just stand there awkwardly while you shout at him and he acts nonchalant. You’re nearly chest to chest with pointed fingers when the ding of the doorbell shuts you both up.

“Here,” Raquel said, annoyed while chucking the bag of food in between us. “I got some food. Maybe you two will finally shut up.”

You hadn’t even noticed Raquel left to get take-out, but how would you with Harry practically spitting his minty gum in your face?

The rest of the night was quiet to everyone else, but between you and Harry, it was loud. You would give him a snarky look every time he happened to look at you and he would stick his tongue out mockingly. It was like children fighting on a playground with you two; immature and useless. Similar scenarios went on for months. But after a while, your friends just decided to leave themselves out of it.

The only reason why Harry is even in your mind right now is because Rina is trying her very best to convince you that ”he’s not that bad”. You’ve heard the same story for months.

“Y/N, he’s really not that bad,” You almost laughed because she’s just so predictable when it comes to this situation. “I know he can be a little… into himself—”

“A little? That is the most conceited man I’ve ever met! Or should I say boy?” You shake your head as you look in the mirror. You comb through your hair softly, even though you’re frustrated about Harry. You can’t take out your fury for Harry on your luscious hair.

“You can’t expect him not to go. It’s Sean and I’s birthday for crying out loud. We’re not just going to have two different parties because you two are big babies who can’t stand a night together,” Rina falls onto her back, laying on her bed. “and he kind of lives there now.”

“Just kick him out for the night. Or forever!” You turn to Rina and act like you just invented something unheard of.

“You know what?” She lifts herself from the bed and heads toward the mirror. “we don’t need to focus on him tonight. You know that one guy from Literature class? He’s gonna be there.”

Your eyebrow perks up as you glance at Rina in the mirror. She nods up and down in confirmation until you’re both squealing like little girls. You haven’t been on a date in what? A year? Your recent hook-ups have been kind of lousy, too. And Rina is right, you need to not focus on Harry tonight, and just be free-spirited. And who knows, maybe something will happen with that guy from your lecture.

—

When you first got to college, you didn’t like the idea of partying. You had been to a few in high school and it just wasn’t your thing. But you realized that the problem was that you weren’t with the right people. Now every time a party opportunity approaches, it’s hard to say no.

Raquel said she was going to be late to the party, so when you and Rina had finished getting ready, you set up the party as best you could. There was a table with snacks on them and another with drinks. However, the good drinks were under the counter. You knew those would be pulled out later in the night.

Their house was relatively small for three people, but being in college with a house isn’t easy. But it made decorating fast. There was a large banner across a window and some balloons tied to the stairs. Although it’s their birthday, it wasn’t really a birthday type of party. But people should at least know what’s being celebrated. Speaking of people, you had no idea who was going to show up besides that guy from your Literature class. Since it’s Sabrina and Sean’s friends, it’s probably going to be a pretty packed house tonight.

The party was planned to start at around eight and was already packed by nine. You didn’t even really know that you knew this many people until they said what’s up or heyyy as you passed them. It wasn’t until around ten, though, when you saw the real life of the party waltzing into the room.

Of course he’s late to a party at his own house. He’s just too cool for that.

Harry would smirk and half wave at girls as he walked by them. He’d fist bump his “homies” and laugh ridiculous loud for no reason. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and attempt to avoid gazing at him at all costs. Even if you found him the most annoying man boy in the world, you couldn’t deny the fact that everything he did was unbelievably hot (when his mouth was closed).

He had this confidence that was cocky, but his charm would hide it. The way he would lick his lips in the middle of a conversation distracts you far more than it should. His hand around a red solo cup along with a solid silver ring on his middle finger looks so natural— why did you wish his hands were somewhere else, though?

On you, maybe?

Your wild thoughts are disrupted just by the man who’d caused them. Harry comes up behind you as you’re refilling a bowl with chips.

“You look like you’re having a great time, really,” Harry shouts with his iconic sarcasm that you just love oh, so much.

“The best!” Your own sarcasm pops out. You weren’t having the worst time, you’re just a bit bored.

“Why don’t you go and dance with me? I know you got some moves,” He gets closer to you and you can feel his breath on your ear. Your breathing hitches in your throat for a moment before responding.

“I’ll pass—” You barely got to finish your sentence when you felt a light tap on your opposite shoulder. Nate, the guy from that lecture class, was standing next to you. Your eyes grew wide in a panic.

“Hey, I just wanted to know if maybe you wanted to dance..?” He looks at you, before noticing Harry, and then has the same, wide eyes as you. “Um nevermind, sorry.”

“W-what…” Your shoulders drop in disappointment and confusion as he walks away. You didn’t want to chase him because maybe he found the actual person he was looking for. Plus, chasing isn’t attractive, right? You turn to your right, forgetting Harry’s presence. You look at him for a single second and see… something in his eyes. He plays it nonchalant like he didn’t do a single thing.

“What did you do? What did you say to him?!” You shouted over the loud voices and booming music.

“What? I did nothing. He looked at me and got scared,” He shrugs off defensively with raised eyebrows. Harry takes another sip of his drink, and your growing frustration got to you, so you slapped it out of his hand. There was maybe a drop in the cup, not much left. His eyebrows raised again, but he didn’t even flinch. He knows that he’s ticking you off. You stomp away up the stairs because you needed to cool off. You are acting immature right now, but goodness, he brings out the worst in you.

The party didn’t halt nor notice your little incident with Harry and you were grateful. Harry makes his way upstairs soon later, honestly concerned for you. He knows he upset you, but he doesn’t know that you also kind of upset him. He catches you right as you’re walking into the bathroom.

“Y/N—”

“What, Harry? What do you want?” You pull your arm away from him and eye him irritatingly. You were looking at him directly and could see him thinking. The cogs in his head were spinning and you were impatient.

“Were you really going to dance with that bloke?” Is the first thing that came out of his mouth.

God, he’s such an idiot.

“Oh my God, of course you came all the way up here just to tick me off more.” You pushed him by his chest, but he grabbed your wrists, stilling you. Your breath hitches again slightly, like it did earlier. You mentally refuse to let him affect you, so you brush it off. You look up at him as you both stand in the doorway of the bathroom. He quickly checks behind him before shoving you two into the tiny room.

“God, you make me so mad,” He says through clenched teeth. He pushes you against the counter and you forget how to breathe.

Lungs? What are those? Air? Oxygen? What…?

However, you get your senses back. A little bit, and shake your head.

“I make you mad? Are you joking? You’re the one that scares off the first guy that seemed genuine!”

“Pfft, that bloke just wants to get in your pants—”

“Oh what, and you don’t? God, you just think you’re so much better—” One of Harry’s hands releases your wrist and latches onto your neck. He doesn’t squeeze, but you halt your rant and then you actually forget how to breathe. Harry holds both of your wrists with one hand while the other puts little to no pressure on your throat. Harry drifts even closer to you now.

“You never know when to stop talking, huh?” He taunts you while slightly nudging your head up. You instinctively roll your eyes because that’s just what he makes you do. Everything he says is just worth an eye roll. But he doesn’t like that. Every time he sees you roll your eyes, he just wants to… fuck. He doesn’t know. But he did know it got under his skin every time and he just wanted to make you shut up. He adds more pressure to your neck as a note that he doesn’t like that.

“You always roll your eyes at me. Am I really that annoying?” He teased, while rubbing your chin with his other hand. He runs over your bottom lip slowly enough so that he can see all of your bottom teeth. When he releases it, it bounces back and you bite it nervously.

“Yes,” You choke out, still being choked by him. You can feel your wit and smart-ass remarks getting to him by the amount of pressure under his fingertips. His head tilts closer toward your ear and you’re sure he can hear your racing heart.

“You just never learn do you?”

“What’s there to learn? You’re the world’s greatest dick—” He pushes your legs apart and lets go of your neck, with that, you naturally sit up straighter. Your heart beats intensely as you wait for him to do something since he likes to interrupt you so much.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to teach you then,” He kisses down your neck softly, teasingly so. The tender kisses contradicts the kinky act of choking, which still wasn’t enough for you. You wish you could just push him off of you and be fine, but you were pulled to him. Your body yearned him the second that he touched you. You wanted more, but you hated begging. But you had a feeling he loved it. Right above your collarbone, he bites and sucks, making you gasp as you bite your lip. His tongue glides across your skin so effortlessly and his teeth sink on one of your pressure points and you nearly moan out. You can feel the beat of the music from downstairs throughout the whole bathroom. Suddenly, he releases himself completely from you and rests his hands beside you on the counter. You thought he was going to leave you high and dry, so you shouted.

“You’re such a fucking tease! God, I was right, you are a dick,” A fire was burning inside of you both that was fueled by frustration and lust. You were ready to get up and leave, but you didn’t want to. He doesn’t even think twice before smashing his lips onto yours and locking the door to the bathroom while doing so.

The kiss was not pretty; your teeth were clashing and your lips were squished. Your lip gloss was all over him now and his tongue gladly roamed your mouth. He hummed against you, loving your taste. You smelt of orange juice and vodka, while Harry smelled like minty beer. A shock struck between your lips, which ignited something in you. Your hands rested on the baby hairs on the back of his neck, which you used to pull him closer to you. He lifted you onto the counter, temporarily breaking you two apart.

You both discard your shirts, throwing them behind him. His chiseled torso shocked you every time you saw it. You always tried to act like it didn’t affect you, but he was a walking turn-on. His tan skin was littered in creative tattoos, and you instantly rubbed on his angel wings. He steps closer to you, moving his hips toward you.

“I like these, but they don’t fit you. You’re more of a devil type,” You sass, looking at him with a sarcastic smile and a lip bite. Harry reaches behind you while giving you a quick are you sure? look before proceeding to unclip your bra first try.

“Don’t get so cocky, we all know who’s in control here,” He smiles sadistically at you, and your little smile fades. You clench your thighs together, but he pulls them apart again. His hands are warm and rough on your legs. He runs them up and down, until he’s just rubbing the insides.

“Harry, we don’t have all night! If you’re going to fuck me, just do it!” You whisper-yelled. You didn’t want to beg, but God, were you getting desperate. This is the nearest you’ll get to begging. Especially for him.

“Aw, is the princess getting impatient?” He mocks, thumbs edging towards your aching cunt. You despised these thick jean shorts you were wearing right now because every time you moved at all, you would feel a light friction on your clit. It wasn’t nearly enough to get you off, so you needed Harry to just rip them from you already. Maybe it was your turn to tick him off…

“I bet Nate would give it to me. He’s probably good, too. Oh, can you imagine how big he probably is?” That caused Harry to make an animalistic sound that nearly shredded the rest of your clothes right there. Before you knew it, your shorts were gone and your underwear was being stuffed into your mouth.

“Not much of a talker now, yeah?” Harry smirks. You could taste your own arousal, which turned you on even more. He grabs your wrists in one hand, stopping you from touching anything.

“You’re so infuriating. Talking about other men while I have you spread open for me. I can see you dripping all over the counter,” He rubs you achingly slow, right on your throbbing clit. He increases his rhythm, giving you more pleasure. But you needed more. “tell me it’s for me.”

You roll your eyes. Of course, he has a praise kink. That makes his mountain size ego make sense. He stops rubbing you and you nearly whine as he removes the underwear from your mouth, dropping it beside you. You’re so desperate and so frustratingly needy, you nearly want to beg.

“And if I don't?” You breathe out, staring at him right in the eyes. His eyes are strong and you almost back down. He puts his free hand on your breast, pinching and twisting the bud. You arch slightly into his touch.

“Then it’s going to be a long night, isn’t it, princess?” You swallow, biting the inside of your cheek. His hands still hold your wrists as he drifts back down to your clit. Harry rubs you quickly, waiting for your response.

“Tell me Y/N. Who made you this wet?” Harry can hear your juices spreading around as he rubs you. When you don’t immediately answer, he flicks you and you jump. You bite your lip, adding a few seconds before you give in. The need to come continues to increase as you withhold your pleas “speak, or I’ll stop.”

“You!” You couldn’t help it— you gave into him. The rough pads of his fingers and his irritatingly attractive words were making you crazy. If he stopped, your body would never forgive you. Before your eyes tightly close, you see Harry arrogantly smirk.

“That’s it, baby. Say my name. Go on,” Harry inserts rapid fingers in you, curling them oh, so good. Your arousal was slushing in and out quickly, along with his fingers. He edged you enough and you were about to come fast.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, Harry!” You whine out his name as you reach your peak. Seconds before you release, his fingers are removed from inside of you. Your climax dangles in your stomach, forgotten.

Your irritation from earlier becomes even more vehement now. You were about to slam Harry’s head into the door, before his loud mouth speaks.

“You can come around my cock,” He basically growls as he vastly unbuckles his belt and unzips his strangled jeans. He slides down his boxers and you can’t deny that he’s pretty big. You feel more arousal leak out of you just looking at it. You nearly roll your eyes again when you see him pull out a condom from his jeans.

Of course, he brought condoms to a party. Why are you letting him fuck you again?

Because he’s just so… ugh. You don’t know the word.

Feeling dazed, you feel Harry rubs himself on you for a few seconds before slamming into you without warning. You try your best not to scream out, for the sake of the party, but also for Harry’s ego. You gasp loudly, as he goes in and out roughly.

He cannot know how much you actually enjoy this.

Your hands wrap around his neck naturally, scratching crescent moons on the sides. His moves are fast, yet deep, making you clench around him hard. When Harry finally moans in your ear, you don’t stop the strong reciprocating one that leaves yours.

That must mean he likes it too.

Harry growls, attaching his lips to your neck, probably to quiet his sounds. When you begin to reach your climax again, your legs get tense. You bite your lip to near bleeding so you don’t alert the whole party.

“God, Harry,” You groan out, clutching his hair with your right hand. You can tell you’re both close because everything is messier; you’re about to fall off of the counter, Harry’s strokes are sloppier, and your grip is everywhere.

You’ve both been dying for release.

“Come, Y/N,” He wasn’t asking; it was a command. Somehow, his assertiveness brought you over the edge and you finally came. Hard. The sensation was such a relief, you loudly moaned without caring who could hear. Harry groans by your ear as he releases into the condom, moving slowly in and out. You rub your clit to calm your body and breathing. You hadn’t realized how deprived you were until the weight of your sexual rut was gone.

Once you come to realize what actually happened, you blink and instantly grab your underwear. Harry had already been pulling up his jeans by then.

“You,” You grit out. Your breathing wasn’t completely calm and was definitely wavering as you zipped up your jean shorts. “are not allowed to tell anyone about this, okay?”

“Me? Why would I ever do such a thing?” He says innocently, followed by a devilish smirk. His shirt falls over his head and covers his sculpted abs.

You hate to think about it, but those abs will be missed.

“I’m serious. If anyone, especially one of our friends finds out, I will personally kill you. I will torture you until you can’t take it anymore,” You successfully clip your bra and arrange your shirt correctly. You look in the semi-foggy mirror as you attempt to tame your hair.

“Sounds kinky. But don’t worry, princess, no one’s gonna find out how I made you beg for me,” Harry stands behind you, looking at you through the mirror. Your eyes widen at his words and you turn around.

“Harry!”

“Yeah, it sounded just like that—”

“I fucking swear to—” A knock interrupted both of you. Sudden panic rushed through your body as your mouth became dry. Harry eyed you with a finger over his lips. You stay silent, listening to him, as the stranger soon walks away. You release a breath you didn’t know you were restricting.

“See? That is why we can’t do this. That was too close. I’m leaving and we’re never speaking of this again,” You slowly open the door and peek near the area. When you fully exit, you try to act as relaxed as possible.

You feel flushed and flustered, but that can easily be mistaken for alcohol or dancing. You walk down the stairs and into the kitchen because you need another drink. Maybe seven because you’re feeling a bit too sober after what just happened.

Rina suddenly comes behind you, startlingly you.

“Where have you been, girl?! I haven’t seen you all night!” She shouts over the booming speakers and loud people. Your gut wrenches suddenly in guilt, feeling the weight of being a liar.

“I was dancing with Nate,” The lie flew through your mouth and you bit your cheek. Your clench your solo cup in your hand. He probably left a while ago because of what happened earlier. You wouldn’t blame him.

You’ve never been a good liar. Clearly. But maybe it was easier to lie to a drunk person…

“Ooo, I’m so drunk right now! Did you know that Raquel heard two people fucking in the bathroom? She thinks it was Harry, and I wouldn’t be surprised. Oh, this is my song!” The song changes to Rina’s favorite dance track, which causes her to slip away back into the crowd of dancing drunks. As she drifts away, that gut wrenching feeling becomes more intense when you take in what she just said.

Raquel heard you in the bathroom. Oh fuck. She doesn’t know it was you and Harry though. Hopefully, she is extremely drunk too and doesn’t remember a lick of tonight.

You hate to admit it to yourself, but that sex with Harry was really good. It wasn’t like the typical sex you have. It wasn’t intimate and loving, or soft and sweet. It was rough and fast, and you really liked it. You’re kind of left in a state of shock because you know it won’t ever happen again.

He had control over you. And even though it was Harry out of all people, there was some type of passion beneath it all that just aroused you so much. Stuff like that is what gets people addicted. And you couldn’t be… addicted to Harry.

You knew everything was now messed up, yet a part of you was satisfied and relieved.

It was one time. You can’t be addicted.

—

YAY! thanks for reading 🤭

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