#pls let me know i hope they are

[jolivira]

Pearl and her girlfriends

Here's the art process:

[ambivalens999]

A totally unprompted merthur reclist

Why? Because I'm a woman possessed and more people need to read these gems in the year of our lord 2024

canon recs

So Are They All, All Honourable Men by @seperis

Privileges of Rank by @seperis

Misrule by @thehoyden

In Want of a Wife by @singingkingoftheroad

Love Potion Number Nine (The Shy Remix) by @clea2011

Before the Sun Rises by @marguerite26

Sharing is Caring by @vegan-hermione

Stranded by fluffssnowflake (theyneeddrying)

A Collapsing Star With Tunnel Vision by @alienfuckeronmain

hold onto me as we go by @schweetheart

Dower the Stars by @thegertie

Nineteen by @kickflaw

If It Stands Still Long Enough by arthur_pendragon

alternate universe recs

A Modern Manservant by @mamalazzer

L’Intérieur by aprettyaway

Time Forward by @kianspo

Castle (the rules by which we live) by @kickflaw

Pieces of Us by dentedsky

[hotluncheddie]

high masking autistic steve harrington follow on from this post

ao3

wc: 2.6k | rated: T | cw: description of a meltdown with semi aggressive stimms | tags: autistic steve harrington (and eddie and robin but this is about stevie), hurt/comfort, stobin soulmates, steddie, steve Harrington has shitty parents

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

he failed. he graduated. but he failed. those unsaid words between him and his parents. some get said. the bad ones, about him, they get said. over again like he’s 5 and being told is behaviour isn’t acceptable. that how he is isn’t right. ‘shape up or ship out’, basically. steve knows he can’t go anywhere new, not right now. only freshly recovered, physically at least. mentally; he’s still unacceptable. 

when steve works at scoops. it’s so fucking bright in there. so fucking bright, all day and he can’t focus and talking to people gets so much harder. it’s not like school where he can zone out in class and turn it on during lunch, in between, keep up his face with the people around him and sink back into his head during chemistry. no. now it’s all the time, customer after customer. that he has to talk to, put on a smile for, read so he gives them what they want and they leave happy. it’s exhausting. girls don’t like him anymore, they don’t react to him the same way. he doesn’t think he likes them much either though because they’re so much more annoying when it’s so fucking bright. 

but robin (robin who cycles to work with sunglasses on and doesn’t take them off till she has too) she turns the lights down during open and close. so those couple hours, it’s not so bad. not so stressful. a little bit less loud. 

after the mall burns down steve starts letting her in. tries too. she makes it obvious enough to him that she wants him there. she asks him to stay and calls him at night and he just wants to be enough for her. eventually he’d swallowed his pride and bolstered his courage and called her after a string of nightmares. asking her to stay the night. but then she was there, and it was like everything was thrown off. she was grating on his already freyed nerves but he didn’t know what to say. how to fix it without upsetting her. 

but that night, a mirror of the mall bathroom played out in steves en-suite. steve had freaked. hidden. but she didn’t leave. and he tried to explain. 

he needs her but he doesn’t know how to have her as a true friend. ‘i dunno how to talk to a girl if i don’t wanna date them. i uh, maybe, don’t really know how to talk to someone as myself. as a friend. sorry.’ 

‘well i don’t know how to talk to jocks so. same boat.’ and she has this glint in her eye. like she knows. and it’s okay. 

because robin, she made it simple. she makes it easy. she says just ask and she’ll be honest and give him a yes or no. she’ll say if she can’t be touched right now, or if the movie he chose is pissing her the fuck off. and she wants the same from him. if the music is too loud, if she needs to let him not speak for a while. wants him honest and present and real. real friends. someone close. finally. 

it’s rocky at first. she’s honest and he’s not used to it. it feel like criticism more often than not. makes him see red and lash out, like he was never able to with his parents. but he apologises and she stays. and he’s learning; that’s it’s okay, he’s not perfect and that means she’s knowing the real him. and she’s still his best friend even if he has to tell her to stop picking her nail polish off around him because it makes him want to die. and she laughs at him the first time she sees him in real recovery mode; hair not styled and he has on the only sweatshirt that ever feels good when he’s like this. 

they lay on the floor in darkness and silence. it’s perfect. they share a tin of soup and a grilled cheese. it’s perfect. 

being around robin as much as he is, its so new, having someone see so many parts of you. sometimes she laughs at him asking steve ‘why’d your voice change?’ but steve didn’t even know it had. he was, he was just talking to someone else quick, being nice like you’re supposed to, attentive to make them feel good. he didn’t know his voice changed that much. 

‘girls would like you more if you talked normal to them. how you do to me.’ 

steve swallowed thickly. he just. he just doesn’t know that thats true. nancy left, he talked to her about lots of things, too many things. she like him better at the start. before some of his black tar innards spilled out. before he freaked. before he was able to paste himself back together and she saw him for what he really is. 

he thinks of his parents. how they don’t know him and still don’t like him. anxiety prickles at his fingertips at the thought of those times they do come home. 

because with them there the routine he’s carved for himself, those quiet moments of darkness that he so craves. they’re gone. now it’s tv static and plates clanging and having to show his face at dinner again. but he’s not ten anymore. now he’s an adult whose still drowning in the tension of the room, never able to say what’s really going on, never allowed to ask how they really feel, never taught how to figure his feeling out. no listening ear for steve as a child, and the ice only grew thicker with time. 

it’s his skin itching at his mother stirring her tea across the house, spoon agains porcelain. it’s the hair on the back of his neck standing up at the sound of ice clinking in his fathers scotch glass. it’s triggered memories playing over and over again. it’s being plagued, by ghosts who haunt him, who left but come back every so often, like poltergeists. polietgists with the deed to the house, and ownership over steve, through blood and fear alone. 

‘when they get back you come to mine steve yeah? you come home.’

because now theres not just robin. there’s eddie. 

he sees everything. and more. even when steve’s trying to hide. eddie sees. 

he noticed steve squinting at the hospital and asked the nurse to turn the lights down. he saw how he started zoning out at a diner with the kids, their arguing reaching a pitch, asked steve to keep him company for a smoke break. once they were outside eddie said he just needed a moment, ‘those kids can be animals’. said it and looked a him like he didn’t need an answer, let steve just breathe a focus on the sound of the wind. 

it’s like there’s a million tiny moments, a million tiny cracks in him forming the more he’s around eddie. like his soft underbelly is mewling any time he’s around, wanting attention, wanting to let eddie see. let eddie touch. 

eddie used to look at him sometimes, across the lunch hall. stare at him with an expression steve couldn’t really make sense of. he used to think it was judgment, annoyance. now he wonders if that face was confusion or interest. maybe eddie’s always been trying to figure steve out. 

once it starts. them. eddie’s everywhere. more somehow, maybe, than robin because, you know, they go there. but it’s different, from those time, with those girls. instead now he’s there and his brains off and on in a, like, magical way. a new way that makes him feel whole and, and beautiful. 

this thing they have. it’s fragile. it’s not perfect. he messes up, takes him a moment to grasp how eddie can be so so himself, always, no matter what. especially when it causes him problems. ‘why not just try and fit in?’ but the stone faced reply told steve that was the wrong thing to say, he didn’t get it but he needed to respect it. respect eddie and his choices. ‘i’m not like you steve, even if my brain shit was all gone i’d still be poor, i’d still be othered. still be a gay weirdo little freak.’ 

and steve is trying to get it. he’s learning to recognise that it’s sadness and confusion in eddie’s eyes when he visits him at work, knowing steve is having a bad day and watching him pretend. watching that mask form thick and fast, hiding the real him, protecting but also keeping everyone far far away. steve thinks maybe they’re living parallels. finding different ways to survive. neither better, neither worse. both far from perfect. 

then that pinched sadness in eddie’s eyes. watching steve pretend. cover up. that damn breaks eventually. eddie sees all of him and more. those bits he always kept locked inside. between he and himself. it all comes spilling out. 

they were supposed to be going out soon. but eddie wasn’t feeling it anymore ‘let’s just stay here, be cozy a little longer. what do you say, sweetheart?’ it does sound nice. steves so tired. but they decided. they had a plan. 

‘we said we would. and i have to buy that thing eddie. we had a plan. and i have to go to work later, so we have to do it before. like we said and then i have to work eddie.’ and before he knows it there’s tears prickling his eyes and the ceiling fan is so loud and the desk lamp is too bright and he smacks a fist to the top of his head and it hurts a little but he’s so frustrated and so overwhelmed and so confused and embarrassed, suddenly. and he can’t breath. why can’t he breath? they had a plan. 

they were supposed to go see hopper and pick something up and he has to talk to him and ask about the game because he needs hopper to like him because it’s better when el can come when all the kids hangout. it’s important that she’s happy so hopper needs to trust steve so steve was going to talk to him today and pick something up. it was the plan. hopper makes him nervous but that was the plan. and then he had to go to work. but now he can’t breathe and he feels like he needs something to hurt. 

‘but he already trusts you with el stevie. hop trusts you with anything.’ 

‘i can’t know that. not for sure. when i talk to him it needs to be perfect.’ steve paces. a pinch at his arm. a tug at his hair. pivot. pace. repeat. 

‘i heard what he said to you steve, on your birthday, he was calling you son all day. you don’t need to prove anything to him.’ 

‘i do eddie! you don’t understand. people, they lie. adults lie. they don’t say things the way they mean. i can’t fuck up talking to him. not like i always fuck up talking to my parents. i need to do it better. do it differently. because everyone always leaves. and i just don’t want to be alone again.’ and the tears really start to fall and steve can barely breath and he’s so embarrassed. shaking hands try and cover his face but the tears slip through. 

and all he can think about is the plan. going to work. his vest hanging by the door. the way the plastic tapes feel in his hands. the smell of the bleach they mop the back room with. the day stretches before him. so many things in the way. so much anxiety still to come. if he can’t start, it can’t end. he gnaws at his lip. thumps a hand to his chest, trying to breath right, trying to ground. 

‘i have to go to work’ he mutters. like a prayer. speak it in to happening. taking him away from the now. thump thump thump at his chest. ear ringing. 

eddie’s holding his arms out, giving steve the option. he speaks so calmly, so earnest. ‘you can’t go to work steve. not like this baby.’

steve rounds on him. angry. when did everything get so messed up? if he was just left alone. he should’ve stayed on his own. ‘i cant just call in sick eddie! i’m not sick and and i hate the way they’ll sound when i say it over the phone and knowing what they’ll be thinking about me. they’ll know i hate the job and think i’m lazy and realise how stupid and useless i am and fire me. i can’t afford to get fired eddie. i’d rather just go in.’ he know it comes out garbled, his cheeks on fire. 

‘i’m not letting you go in steve. i’ll sort it. i’ll go pick up robin before and she’ll cover for you, she’ll explain. and she would never. ever think that of you.’ eddie’s voice dropped octave. he speaks clearly and plainly and finally there’s a new plan to follow. a new rule for the day. 

and all steve can do is curl up in a ball and sob. curl up in a ball against eddie chest, in his arms, squeezing his t-shirt between his fingers. clenching his muscles tight, his teeth grinding together. grunting out some of the decade old scream, still stuck there but more visible to him now. 

until finally finally, he relaxes. spent and exhausted. too afraid to open his eyes and face the lamplight, face what could be in eddie’s expression. he drifts..

eventually he gets up, blows his nose and splashed water on his face, turns off all the lights and get back under the warm blanket. fills his lungs. sighs. whispers, ‘m’sorry’ 

‘don’t say that. there’s nothing to apologise for’ eddie’s so close, so warm. 

‘no one’s supposed to ever, see that.. it’s okay if you want to leave’ 

‘steve. why the fuck would i leave you right now?’ 

‘who’d wanna date someone who acts like that? it’s. it’s not good eddie. but, but it’s okay. i’m used to being alo-.’ 

‘please stop stevie. your breaking my heart here. i want to stay, i want to be here with you. i really really like you steve.’ and steve’s cheeks feel wet again. he feels flayed open and young, like a little kid who fell off the swings and everything is different suddenly. 

later later when eddie picks robin up from work she stalks in to where steve’s wrapped up on the couch. curls up into his side and exhales. she bites into his bicep. huffing a sad, annoyed little ‘dingus’ before grabbing his hand and fiddling with his fingers. 

steve feels his eyes prickle again. looking up at the ceiling he croaks out a small ‘sorry.’ for the day. for everything. for anything he can be. and everything he can’t. 

robin kneels on the sofa right next to him. growling a little and placing one of her hands at his sternum and the other at the same height on his back. like she’s forcing herself inside him, holding him together. her hands start to rub up and down quickly, frenzied and grounding for both of them. steve let’s his head hang. eyes closing at the sensation. he grunts. robin grunts back. 

eddie joins. sitting at his other side. slipping a hand in steve’s hair, soothing his scalp with long scratching fingers. and steve humms, sighs, keens. eyes closed he drifts but not away from his body, instead into it. with gratitude, and warmth. at the centre of the two best things that ever happened to him. willing to try again. be just, better. never perfect. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

pt 3 snippet

a little happier for u @pearynice <3

ty @spectrum-spectre @vampyreddiemunson @fangirlycupcake @grandwretch for ur tags and additions, it was very inspiring

and tags for lovely @irethsune @willim-billiam-byerson @2jug2head

[lady-arryn]

MARIE ANTOINETTE costumes appreciation: ― Marie Antoinette’s pink dress (costume design by Milena Canonero)

[aeirithgainsborough]

TWIN PEAKS (1990) YELLOWJACKETS (2021) (insp @holdbeast) 

[cherrygummybears]

hope compilation

sources:

in a big country - big country // various storms and saints - florence + the machine // things can only get better - howard jones // free - florence + the machine // youtube comment from breaking down by florence + the machine // youtube comment from shake it out by florence + the machine // stop crying your heart out - oasis // instagram comment + replies from reel by __we_love_you_ // youtube comment + replies from hunger by florence + the machine // you get what you give - new radicals // youtube comment + replies from dog days are over by florence + the machine // instagram comment + replies from reels by morecorecore (2x) // instagram comments from reels by morecorecore (3x) // light of love - florence + the machine // discord message written by @corrode-in-repose // discord message written by @blue-dreamers-eyes // discord messages written by me // Night Walk from East Boston, 1996 - Franz Wright // instagram reel by __we_love_you_

[anervousmirrorball]

ON ANGER

[cosmic-mechanics]

The answer is yes.

I imagine the arms end up disintegrating into ash after a bit tho! The blaze rods hang around.

Anyways thank you @sophiadoesstuff for the idea I saw your tags and immediately had to draw it.

This was in reference to this post .

[schmweed]

[bloodandtime]

exit light, enter night

cw: fem!reader, there’s a lil slightly like squint and you’ll see it angst, fluff, probably eddie being way smoother than he actually is, plus size!reader, kind of insecure!reader but not like self deprecatingly so, uh weed smoking, happy ending :) suuuuuper self indulgent:) also eddie didn’t d*e cause this song came out in ‘91. oh and i have never worked at a vinyl shop so… i went off straight vibes lol

Enter Sandman is ringing through the store as you step in.

“Munson!”

A headful of curls spring up from behind the counter, brown doe eyes wide and anxious as they meet yours, he knows he’s playing the music too loud.

“Hey, sweet thing.” he says as lowers the volume.

Floorboards creak as you make your way to the back room. You can hear Eddie’s boots stomp behind you.

“Eddie, I’ve told you to stop calling me that,” you sigh, shrugging your coat off.

He’s leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, leather jacket under his battle vest, black jeans and combat books sit on his frame. Like they’re made for him.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he says with a wink.

Embarrassed at being caught, heat creeps up your neck. You groan and shoulder bump him out of the way, trying to ignore how solid he is under those layers.

His laughter follows you to the register.

“Is it just us today?”

He hops up on the back counter. chain jingling as he gets comfortable. He smiles, and it’s sticky sweet.

“Sure is, sweethea-OW.”

He glares as he rubs the spot on his forehead where the pen you threw at him hit.

“Stop flirting with me and work!”

He jumps down from the counter and exaggeratedly looks around the… empty store.

“Yeah, we sure are swamped. How will we ever make it till close?” comes his sarcastic drawl from your side.

You guess the snowstorm outside is keeping customers at home. It’d be a nice evening… if Eddie wasn’t here.

Honestly, he’s fine. It’s more of a you problem. You can’t keep focused when he’s around, and you think he might have caught on. Eddie takes any and all opportunities to flirt with you.

You figured he did that to everyone, not wanting to read too much into it but the only other person he flirts with consistently is Steve.

Sarcasm is how you deflect Eddie’s advances, even though he flirts with just you (and Steve) it’s hard to not think about how he might be fucking with you.

Mess with the fat girl, lead her on, it’s funny. Let her think she has a chance and tear it away from her and laugh at the thought of her thinking anyone would like her.

Ugh, I’m not a teenager anymore, you’d think I’d be past these insecurities by now.

You scrub a hand down your face and sigh, trying to shake yourself out of that toxic thought cycle that’s so easy to fall into.

“You okay?”

Eddie’s still beside you at the register, now leaning against the back counter. He’s staring, brows furrowed.

Despite yourself, you shoot him a soft smile. That catches him off guard, you’re always so quick to the defense.

“Yeah, Eddie. I’m all good, just tired.” you sound it, voice rough.

Before he can ask anything else, you tell him you’re going to work on the returns from this week and get started organizing the vinyl before close.

You’re off to the back before he can even open his mouth, which honestly is impressive. That boy can talk.

It takes about an hour to finish up returns and you shuffle back to the front, shocked to see Eddie has already started organizing.

“Oh shit, tha-,” you’re cut off to Eddie jumping half a foot in the air and yelping out in surprise.

You bite your lip to stop your laugh but it doesn’t stop the shit eating grin that spreads across your face.

He points at you, cheeks flushed, “Don’t.” he says with a finger pointed at you.

You can’t help the giggle that escapes and Eddie’s eyes soften, happy to see you’re smiling. Even if it is at his expense.

“I was going to say thank you for starting to organize, I’ll start from the other end of the store and we can meet in the middle.”

He nods, a sweet smile on his face. Before you get lost in his dimples you busy yourself with vinyl.

It’s been another hour and a half and everything is in its rightful place. Both you and Eddie are sitting on the back counter, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh.

No one has come in during your entire shift and there’s another two hours before close and the snow still hasn’t stopped.

Eddie leans his head back and lets out a loud groan, “I’m soooooo bored, why can’t we just close?”

He peaks down at you, slumped at his side. He follows the shape of your eyes down the slope of your nose to your lips.

“I know a way we could pass our time,” he blurts out, unable to stop himself. He’s still staring at your lips.

You look up and meet his amber eyes, his gaze more intense than you’re used to. You want to squirm, he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you whole.

“Oh yeah? What should we do?” you bump his shoulder, and he shakes his head and the moment is gone.

He pulls a joint out of his pocket, and your jaw drops.

“I’m not smoking weed at work, Edward!” your voice going up an octave.

He snickers as the horror stricken look on your face.

“Hey, come on. No one has come in and no one will. I’m surprised if we’ll even be able to leave.”

You’re still hesitant, he’s not wrong but you’d rather not get caught.

“Fuck it,” you slap your hands on your tight covered thighs, jumping down your skirt flounces back into place, Eddie tries and fails not to stare, “so where we doing this?”

He hops down beside and gives you another smile, pleasantly surprised you’re going along with this.

“Come on, I’ll show you my spot.”

He runs to the front door to lock it, he makes his way back to you to throw an arm around you to take you to the back.

You don’t fight him, to his surprise. You maybe even lean in a bit, he’s enjoying the contact too much to tease you though.

Turns out his spot is just a covered porch at the back of the record shop, you snag your coat on the way.

“Oh Fuck Me it’s cold,” you gripe as you step outside, the wind whips snow outside the porch, you can’t even see five feet in front of it.

“Shit, maybe you’re right, we wont be able to leave.” you worry, pulling your coat tighter around you, leanings closer to Eddie.

Eddie pulls you closer, relishing in the contact. He doesn’t know why you’re being so nice tonight but he’s not complaining.

“Worst case, you can come with me. The van drives just fine in the snow.” he exhales the first drag, you try not to stare and fail.

He hands the joint to you, your fingers already frozen. As you take a hit you register what he just offered. Now you’re coughing and not just because of the joint.

“Slow down it’s not going anywhere,” he says through a light laugh as he softly rubs your back.

“Did you just offer to take me home with you?”

It’s his turn to cough, and your turn to pat his back. You repeat his words back to him and he gives you a half hearted glare, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I was being gentlemanly and you’re the one making it dirty, I’ll have you know.” he reprimands, wagging his finger at you.

He takes another drag and passes it back, your fingers brush and it’s a shot of electricity up your arm.

The weed is definitely taking effect.

Eddie can’t take his eyes off the way your lips wrap around the joint, right where his lips had just been. An indirect kiss.

You’re quiet when you speak next, after handing him the shrinking joint.

“You’ve got to stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Being so kind to me. Makes me get my hopes up even though I know it doesn’t mean anything.”

The wind whistles around you while Eddie and you stare at one another.

You feel his arm pull away from you, and you’re convinced this is it as you look away so he won’t see you cry. He’s going to tell you sorry and he’s not interested. You can handle it, it’s not the first rejection you’ve faced.

You can’t look at him though, tears sting, threatening to fall.

“Hey,” he whispers, softer than you’ve ever heard him, “look at me, please.”

His hands find your cheeks, warm against your wind-chapped skin. Joint long forgotten as he tilts your head to look at him.

“It means something. It does, to me, it does. I’ve liked you since I started here. It’s not a joke and I’m sorry I’ve made you feel this way,” he pauses, his thumbs softly graze the tops of your cheeks.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.” you whisper.

You and Eddie Munson have your first kiss in a snowstorm, freezing cold and perfect.

[didhewinkback]

Something Old: Part Three

word count: 13k (jesus); story page

warnings: smut, google translate italian

-----

Fingertips dragged up and down your spine as you were slowly roused from sleep. You blinked your eyes open, momentarily disoriented by the darkness of the unfamiliar bedroom until a tattooed arm wound around your waist, squeezing tight.

So it wasn’t a dream. You really were here, in Italy, with your best mate who feels the same way you do. You think. He hadn’t exactly said the same three words you said, but you really couldn’t be nitpicky when he did in fact call off his wedding for you. And spent all day kissing you like his life depended on it. And was now holding you, in his bed, so tight against his chest, planting kisses along your neck.

“Sorry for waking you up,” he said, mouth dragging against the skin of your neck, “Got bored.”

He plants his hand on your hip and squeezes, guiding you to turn over and face him. And his shirtless body. He was definitely wearing a shirt when you fell asleep.

He smirks when he notices you ogling him, puffy eyes crinkling at the corners. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you say, burrowing your head a bit deeper into the pillows as you rest your fingertips against his chest.

His naked chest.

You can’t quite explain the breakdown of the boundaries between you. Why it’s happening so quickly, why it feels so natural. You’ve never touched him like this, never had the freedom to do so, and yet you don’t want to stop or question it as you splay your palm against his pecs, reveling in his sharp inhale. You’re at war with yourself, simultaneously desperate to apply logic to this, to stop and think it through, talk it out while also desperate to just lean in to what feels good and enjoy it, this magic between the two of you that you’ve dreamt of for most of your life.

“You always think this hard when you just wake up?”

You huff a laugh, shaking your head as you rub your thumb back and forth on his chest, his head dipping down to track the movement, “What happened to your shirt?”

“Got hot.” he shrugs, hand tightening on your hip.

“Mmmm. I’ll say.”

He snorts, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him, leaning his head in to rest against your neck, breathing in.

“What time is it?”, you ask.

“Bout half past 8.”

“We are fucked if we try to get any sleep tonight,” you groan.

“I dunno, love,” he says, planting a line of kisses up to your cheek, lips dragging against the skin as he says, “Can think of a couple of things that would tire us out.”

“Oh, great,” you say, breath hitching as he continues to kiss a line across your jaw, your nails scratching on his chest, “I always dreamt that our first time would put me right to sleep.”

He hums against your skin. “So you’ve dreamt about our first time?”

“No comment.” you say, a bit breathlessly as he huffs a laugh, littering soft kisses along your throat before pulling away.

He smiles at you, his eyes puffy from sleep as his hand falls to your cheek, brushing your hair away from your face.

“Realized I never fed you,” he says softly.

“Shit host.”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling as his fingers find their place along the back of your neck, squeezing gently. “One of my favorite places in town is still open this time of year. It’s about a fifteen minute walk if you want to go grab some dinner.”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” you say teasingly, breath catching in your throat when he doesn’t take the bait. Instead he just stares at you, lips slightly quirking up as he brushes his thumb along your cheek.

“Yeah,” he says, hand falling to where your hand rests on his chest, turning it over so you're are palm to palm. He squeezes once before bringing your hand to his lips, murmuring against it, “Will you go on a date with me?”

You squeeze his hand, his smile growing when your own grin matches his.

“Never thought I’d ever hear you ask me that,” you say softly, not trusting your voice at a louder volume, feeling overwhelmed by his words and warm gaze.

He squeezes your hand, taking a deep breath,“I never thought I'd ever get the courage to ask.”

“Harry,” your voice comes out as a whisper.

“I know, I know.” he says, leaning in. “C’mere.”

He presses his lips to yours, sucking lightly at your lower lip before pulling back, resting his forehead against yours.

“‘S that a yes?” he asks.

“Yes. Please.” He cuts you off with a kiss before you can even get the words out, pressing his lips to yours over and over, bringing his hand back up to rest at the back of your neck.

“Thank you,” he says, pulling back to whisper against your lips, “for saying yes.”

He’s looking at you so intently, with such reverence in his eyes that you have a feeling he’s not just thanking you for agreeing to dinner but for this trip, for all of it. You squeeze his hand.

“Thank you,” you whisper back, “for asking.”

His eyes study your features for a moment, hand squeezing your hand once more. He’s about to say something, his eyes clouding over before seemingly deciding against it, inhaling sharply as he shakes his head slightly and presses his lips to yours once more. He swipes his tongue along the seam of your lips, fingers tightening on your neck when you open your mouth, moaning when his tongue brushes across yours.

Heat flares through your body, you can’t stop to think about what he was about to say, too busy being distracted by how hard he is kissing you, every swipe of tongue full of intent, his hands pulling you impossibly closer.

Your hand falls back to his chest, sliding down towards his abs. You splay your palm on the butterfly tattoo, nails digging in when he groans. You can barely catch your breath as he overwhelms all of your senses at once. His taste, his touch, his smell. He’s everywhere. You’ve never needed anyone this badly in your life.

His hand slides down your body, pausing at your hip as he squeezes once and guides you towards him, shifting on the bed to lay back down and pull you on top of him. Yes, yes -

The sound of your stomach growling stops you both in your tracks. It’s honestly the loudest and longest growl your stomach has ever made in its life. It’s astonishing. It’s humiliating.

Oh god.

Harry laughs into your mouth before you pull away and instantly hide your head in your hands. You move to roll off of him but his arms come to wrap around you, holding you in place.

“Oh my god,” you groan, feeling him shake with laughter, “I’m sorry.”

“That was loud.”

“Shut up,” you say, giggling as you swat at him. “Haven’t eaten since like lunch yesterday. Was a bit busy.”

You tensed the seconds the words left your mouth, your attempt at a joke falling flat as the reminder of the real world sunk in. Yes, you were here, wrapped up in his arms in Italy. But somewhere else, was Erin. Dealing with the repercussions of a canceled wedding, having to explain to her family what happened, her dream weekend in shambles. All because of you.

“Hey. “ he said softly, snapping you back to reality. You looked down at him, his brow creased in concern.

“Sorry. I -” you exhaled through your lips, “Sorry.”

“Got nothing to be sorry for.”

“I didn’t mean to bring up or like … we haven’t really talked about -”

“I know.” He said, his hand coming up to brush your hair from your face. “I know I said I’d rather wait a bit before talking about it all but if you’d like to talk now, we can.”

You took a second to look at him underneath you. The way he was staring at you so openly, his hand still holding your face, thumb brushing across your cheekbone. This is what you want. It’s what you’ve always wanted. Does it make you an asshole to ignore the reality of the situation for a bit longer? Maybe. But you were hungry and groggy and wouldn’t be able to have a productive conversation right now anyway.

You shook your head slightly, leaning down over him until you were chest to chest, your arms bracketing his head as you take him in for a moment. His swollen lips, darkened eyes, the light flush of his cheeks.

“Not yet. I do want to talk but I’m really hungry,” you say, your hand coming up to play with the strands of hair at the top of his head, “And this really cute boy I’ve liked for ages just asked me on a date. So I’d like to do that first.”

He blinks up at you a few times before a grin splits his face open, your heart fluttering as you take in his expression.

“Let’s go eat, then.”

“Okay.”

You move to roll off of him but his arms tighten around you, still smiling at you when you look up at him in confusion.

“Give me a kiss first.”

You roll your eyes, grinning back at him before pressing your lips to his. It’s a bit awkward, teeth clacking at first as you can’t stop smiling to kiss each other, giggling as he presses his lips to your cheek, jawline, temple.

“If we don’t leave now,” you say as he drags his lips across your skin, “we will never leave this bed.”

“Won’t see me complaining.” he says as as he kisses your cheek, your nose, your temple. “Quite like you like this. On top of me.”

Heat sears through you, unable to formulate a witty response or any response for that matter, suddenly hyper focused on all the areas where your body is in contact with his bare skin. You can’t hold back the sound that escapes you as he kisses the spot right below your ear, sucking lightly on the skin.

“But you’re right.” he says, pulling back. “We should go. Can’t have your stomach screaming at me again.”

“You’re such a little shit!” you squawk. He barely dodges your arm swatting at him, bringing him arms up to protect his face.

“Not my fault your stomach could break a decibel barrier or summat.” he says, giggling.

“Decibel barrier,” you repeat, in a poor imitation of his deep voice, “Big vocabulary. Where’d you learn that one? Scrabble?”

“Alright, that’s enough out of you,” he says as you laugh. He wraps his arms around you, deftly flipping your positions, hovering over you on all fours as you lay flat with your back against the mattress. Your giggles slowly subsiding as you both become aware of the new position you’ve found yourselves in.

Your heart skips a beat, thinking about how often you’ve imagined him like this, hovering over you, his abs flexing, his thighs tense. It’s real, this time. You look up to find him already looking at you, pupils blown as he watches you ogle him. You take a deep breath, trying to slow down your racing heart but finding it impossible when he’s looking at you like that.

His nostrils flare as his searing gaze travels down your body before landing back on your face. Your mouth feels impossibly dry suddenly, licking your lips, stomach twisting when his eyes track the movement. You take a deep breath, reaching your hand up to thread through his hair, landing at the nape of his neck.

“Harry,” you whisper.

He hums in response, his eyes never once leaving your mouth.

“We should probably go.”

“Mhmm.”

“Decibel barriers and all that.”

“Mhmm.”

“Harry!”, you say with a laugh, lightly swatting him on the top of his head. He breaks his focus on your lips to look up at you, a light flush spreading across his cheeks as he smiles sheepishly.

“Sorry, sorry,” he sputters out a laugh, “you’re right. Let’s be responsible. You’re just…”

He cuts himself off with a deep breath, a murmured “bloody distracting” leaving his lips before he smacks a kiss to your cheek and hops off the bed.

“M’lady,” he says, extending a hand to you to help you off the bed as you take it with a snort. He does a little bow, dipping his head to press a kiss to your knuckles before popping up with a smirk at your expression.

“Right,” he says, starting to head around the bed towards the ensuite, “I’ve got a hot date to get ready for. Leave here in like 20ish minutes?”

“Ish.” you emphasize, staring at your mess of a suitcase. This should be interesting.

—

30(ish) minutes later, you were out in the warm spring night, heading up the road to the restaurant. You felt his eyes on you, turning your head to find him smirking.

“Looks good on you,” he said, pointing to your - well, his - sweater. Right.

In your defense, your suitcase was lacking only because you were in emotional distress while packing it. Trying to figure out what to wear while you watch the love of your life marry someone else is no easy task. You were never planning on staying long, so only packed the essentials. It wasn’t your fault that you apparently only packed pajamas and jeans.

“I can’t believe you still have this.” It had to be at least 5 years old, back in his days of chelsea boots and skinny jeans.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, “you told me you liked how it looked on me. Wasn’t getting rid of it after that.”

You gape at him for a moment, still not used to how he can just casually say these sentences that knock the wind out of you. He smiles softly at you, reaching out for your hand and pulling you closer. He holds on to your hand, lacing your fingers together as you continue walking. The novelty of it, just simply holding his hand, makes your breath catch in your throat as he rubs his thumb against the back of your hand, content to just hold yours.

He points out some shops along the way, streets he got lost down when he went on his first morning run here. As you get further into town, you expect him to pull his hand away. There’s not a ton of people but it’s not deserted. And he is still one of the most famous men in the world, a fact he cannot run away from. Maybe he’s trying to not hurt your feelings, to not mess with this new thing between you. You go to pull your hand away but when he only tightens his hold on your hand, you look up at him in confusion.

“‘S not like that here,” he says, pulling you towards a cluster of trattorias to your right, “They don’t really care about any of it. ‘S why I wanted to stay here. Bring you here. So we could just be two people on a date. Just you and me - ”

“Il mio raggio di sole!!” A voice booms out from inside the restaurant.

“ - And Leonardo.” he says, affectionately rolling his eyes, squeezing your hand once before letting go as he extends his arms out wide towards the older Italian gentleman bustling out of the open doors of the trattoria.

“Amore mio!” Harry yells when he sees him. Leonardo laughs a big belly laugh before grabbing Harry’s face and kissing him on both cheeks. They laugh and hug each other, with a few slaps on the back for good measure.

“Perché non mi hai detto che stavi arrivando?” Leonardo asks Harry when he pulls away, a hand still affectionately resting on his shoulder.

“Volevo sorprenderti!” Harry says with a smile that widens when Leonardo grabs his face and pinches his cheek.

You’ve got no idea what they’re saying but you can’t deny that watching the way Italian words leave Harry’s mouth makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You stand there, watching the two old friends catch up, in awe once again of the effect he has on people wherever he goes.

It’s almost impossible to articulate, the way his warmth and kindness radiates off of him, how he makes the person he’s talking to feel like the only person that matters and they can’t help but fall in love with him. It’s why you felt so foolish about your feelings at times, feeling like just one in a million girls who fell under Harry Styles’ spell. You knew your relationship was different than the one he had with the world but it was hard to feel that way, especially when you saw him in action. But here, and now, the way he keeps sneaking glances over to you as he laughs with Leonardo, maybe you weren’t just one in a million. Maybe you were just the one.

After Harry’s eighth glance over to you, Leonardo looks over at you with a smile.

“Where are my manners? How could you let me be so rude?” he says to Harry before smacking him on the chest.

Harry laughs and introduces you, saying your name with a small smile.

“Buonasera, senora” Leonardo says, extending a hand out to you as he leans in to kiss your cheeks in greeting.

“Buonasera” you say back, in probably the worst Italian anyone has ever heard but in their kindness, neither of them make fun of you for it. “So nice to meet you.”

“How do you know our boy?” he asks affectionately.

“Oh, we go way back. We’ve been friends since we were kids.” you say with a smile.

“Ah, bellissimo.” Leonardo says, “I met this young man a few years back now. With that long hair of his and those tight, tight pants.”

Harry barks out a laugh at that, a light blush dusting his cheeks. “Hey, those pants were cool, then.”

“He stumbled upon our trattoria and charmed the hell out of everyone in the place. He’s made sure to stop by every time he’s in town. We love him here.”

“Yeah, he tends to have that effect on people,” you say.

“One of a kind, this boy.” Leonardo smiles and turns to Harry, “La tua amica è molto carina.”

“Mia ragazza,” he says back softly, “Lei è la mia ragazza”.

He looks over at you, fondness in his eyes, just as Leonardo smacks him upside the back of his head.

“Tua ragazza?!” He says, “Tua ragazza?! What are you talking to me for? Mio dio. Come, come.”

He leads you both through the trattoria, bustling with cozy energy, small tables and intimate lighting. He takes you through the kitchen, grabbing a carafe of wine before leading you to the back patio. Fairy lights string the awning, tables scattered throughout the space. There’s only one other older couple sitting in the far corner, paying you no mind as their heads stay ducked in conversation. Leonardo leads you to a table on the opposite end. You can see the water from here, how the moonlight shines against it. It’s lovely.

“Sit, sit.” Leonardo insists, not even bothering to put out menus as he pours the wine in your glasses. “We’ll take good care of you. Enjoy.”

He winks at you before heading back inside.

“Cheers,” Harry says, lifting his glass to yours as you reciprocate the message, each taking a sip of your wine.

“I didn’t know you spoke Italian that well,” you say.

“‘M not that good,” he says, “Still learning. Wanted to be able to spend more time here and actually speak the language.”

“Well, it sounds good to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s hot,” you say bluntly as he snorts out a laugh. “What did you say to him earlier? That made him smack you?”

“Ah.” he says, looking down at the table for a moment, a light blush dusting his cheeks. “He told me my friend was very pretty. And I corrected him, and said you were my date.”

“Oh. That’s sweet.” you say with a smile, warmth flooding you. Doesn’t seem worth blushing over, but you’re endeared nonetheless.

“I actually - I used a different word,” he says, sheepishly scratching at the side of his face before looking up at you.

“What do you mean?”

“In Italian, there’s a few words for date. There’s appuntomenta which is like a casual date with someone. If you were going on a first date, that’s what you would say. But I said ragazza, mio ragazza, which is what you say when you’re on a date with your girlfriend.”

“Oh.”

He stares at you for a moment, trying to gauge your reaction, his next words coming out in a rush.

“I know that’s a lot. And we haven’t talked about anything and that tonight was technically my wedding night but I -” he takes a deep breath, reaching for your hand before stopping himself, letting it rest right near yours on the table, looking at you with utter sincerity. “This isn’t casual, to me. You mean…this is…”

“Different,” you say.

“Yeah, but it's more than that,” he says, “This is…’s not something I’m trying out to see if it works. I’m in this, for real. I’ve never - ‘s not felt like this with anyone. ‘S like…

He pauses to collect his thoughts and when he looks back up at you, his eyes are glassy, emotion clear in his voice.

“‘S like I didn’t realize something was missing and then you told me you loved me and my whole world shifted. Like a missing piece of a puzzle finally clicked into place that I hadn’t realized was lost.”

“Harry,” you breathe out.

“I’m just…” he takes a deep breath, shakes his head. “This feels like a date with my girlfriend. Like someone I want to spend a lot of time with. For as long as I possibly can. And that’s why I said it. Is that okay?”

You’re silent for a moment, just staring at him in awe, blinking back the tears that rushed to your eyes.

“Yeah,” you say, with a laugh of disbelief, “that’s okay.”

“Good,” he says, gently taking your hand and lacing your fingers together.

“Good,” you repeat. “And uh, for me too. I mean, this feels that way for me, too. I would say you’re, uh… mio ragazzo?”

“You’re shit at Italian,” he says with a wide grin, sparking a laugh out of you as he chuckles.

“But yeah,” he says, fingers tightening around yours, “That’s what you would say. If you wanted to.”

“I wanted to,” you say, hooking your ankle around his under the table, heart skipping a beat as his smile goes to something softer, more private. Just for you.

“Good.”

“Good.”

You just sit there, grinning at each other like two kids with a school crush, before Leonardo bursts through the doors, gorgeous plates of food in his hand.

“Buckle up,” Harry mutters, “this is just the first course.”

The night flies from there. Leonardo brings out course after course of delicious food, always making sure your wine supply never runs low. Your conversation flows from childhood memories to the books you’re currently reading that you can’t put down. It feels like it always does when the two of you finally get to sit down and catch up for the first time in a while except this time, he squeezes your hand every so often and you brush your leg against his in a way that makes pupils go a bit wider.

At one point, Leonardo and his wife Isabella, a shorter woman with a fierce bob and whip smart wit, join you for a glass or two, reminiscing about Harry’s adventures in Italy when he was a few years younger. Tears fill your eyes as Leonardo recalls the story of how he first met and fell in love with Isabella twenty-three years ago, as she constantly interjects with corrections much to your amusement. The night draws to a close when you start to feel Harry’s eyes on you no matter who is talking in the conversation, something Isabella picks up on immediately, gently swatting Leonardo as he begins another story.

“Amore mio, we should let these two go. It’s their first night here and we’ve been talking their ears off.” she says.

“No!” you and Harry say at the same time, his attention snapping back to them as Isabella smirks at him.

“Really, it’s been so lovely,” you say, as Isabella takes your hand and squeezes it affectionately.

“We’ll see you soon, mio caro. I know it.”

After a bit of a battle over the bill, or lack thereof, that ends with Harry shoving a large wad of euros into Leonardo’s pocket and refusing to take them back and Isabella placing another bottle of wine into your hands for you to take home with vows to teach you some recipes the next time you come, you say your goodbyes with hugs and kisses, feeling like you’ve known this couple for far longer than just the past few hours.

As you’re leaving, Isabella takes Harry’s face in her hands, saying “Lei è speciale. Prenditi cura di lei” to which he nods and replies, “Sempre. Sempre.”

She gives him one final kiss on the cheek and you head back out into the night, the activity of the restaurant having simmered during the late hour. Harry wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Did you like it?”

“Think that was the best meal I’ve ever had. And they’re amazing. To have taken over the family business at such a young age and to have kept it going the way they have…and to still love each other the way they do. It’s incredible.”

“I know. It’s always great getting to see them. They’re really something else.”

“I also always love getting to see the effect you have on people.” you say softly after a few moments of silence. “The way they’re drawn to you like a moth to a flame. You just make everyone feel so singular and special.”

“What - you mean, tonight? No, that was all you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re very charming, you know. And smart. And funny. And a really great person to tell a story to.” he says, slowing your walk to a stop as he turns to face you. Taking a few moments to just look at you, his eyes grazing over your features, a small smile on lips.

“‘S what Isabella said to me as we were leaving. She said you were special and that I should take good care of you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, heartbeat thrumming at having him this close for the first time in hours. “And what did you say back?”

He cups your face in his hands, his thumb caressing your cheek. “Always. Sempre.” he says, leaning in. “Sempre. Amore mio.”

He says the last phrase against your mouth before capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. You can’t help the small noise that escapes you as you kiss him back. One hand falls to your hip to pull you closer, the bottle of wine getting smushed between you as he kisses you again.

He pulls away with a groan. “This bottle of wine is killing my vibe.”

He leans his forehead against yours as you huff a laugh, his thumb drawing circles on your hip. It feels quite familiar to about 30 hours ago, when he held you like this in the courtyard and yet it couldn’t be more different. He kisses you once more before pulling away.

“Had a lot of wine. Should probably keep walking around for a bit, if that’s cool with you. ‘S a nice night.”

“Yeah, I’m good with that.” you say as he takes your hand, lacing your fingers together as you resume your walk.

You walk along the cobblestone streets, well-lit despite the dark night sky. You don’t talk much, but you don’t have to, content to be in the silence and have each other close. As you get closer to the water, Harry slows down by the benches overlooking a pier.

“D’you wanna sit for a bit?”, he asks, looking at you while you nod. You sit down next to each other, placing the wine on the ground by your feet, looking out at the night sky that stretches above you, unable to see much else but the moon and stars. You can see the light from some boats and hear some music from the restaurants a bit up the way but other than that, it's quiet.

“Bit of a shit view at night,” you say, as he barks out a loud laugh.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you sit there, looking out at the stars. You breathe in the warm spring air, feeling buzzed from the wine, and from him. Just happy. It’s hard to believe that this is real, that you’re sitting where you are.

You can feel him on the verge of saying something. Even out of the corner of your eye, you can spot his long held mannerisms and know better than to push it. He’s incredibly careful with his words, especially when it comes to public speaking, always opting to take the time to think the words through before saying them out loud. With you, he usually opts to just let them imperfectly flow, sure he’ll find his point along the way, no self-consciousness or public perception to hold him back. When you turn to face him, his brow furrowed as he pinches his bottom lip, you can tell that he wants to take his time with this. Wants to get the words exactly right, whatever the words may be.

“Y’ scare the shit out of me. Y’ always have.”

Or not.

“I - what?” you say, sputtering out a laugh. “That’s not true.”

“My palms are sweating,” he says, holding out his palms for you to see before laying them back in his lap. “Feel like I’m 12 years old, asking you to dance all over again.”

“Oh come on, H. You were not nervous for that.”

“Was bricking myself, love.” he says, turning to face you as your brows crease in confusion. You making him nervous? That can’t be true. “Had the biggest crush on you back then.”

“You WHAT?”

“Come on, you had to have known that.” he says, as you start to vehemently shake your head. “I wasn’t subtle at all.”

“I had no idea.”

“Asked you to dance, didn’t I?”

Your heart lurches as he repeats the words he said to you all those years ago, verbatim. The memory already taking on a different life with this new piece of information. The way he had clutched your wrist, how he wouldn’t look you in the eye, how sweaty his palms had been. Oh. These little moments in your life turning out to mean as much to him as they do to you makes your head spin.

“I made us all play spin the bottle at Katie’s 13th birthday trying to get you to kiss me.” he says, unable to stop the confessions once he’s started.

“What?” you say with a disbelieving laugh, “So you’re the reason my first kiss was with Conor Williams?”

“Trust me, I’m just as upset about it as you are.” he says as you laugh. “I couldn’t figure out the mechanics of how to make sure the bottle landed on you in time and then that bastard took the first turn.”

“It really wasn’t anything special,” you say with a laugh.

“Yeah, well, it was supposed to be.” he grumbles, shaking his head. “Can’t believe you didn’t know. Gem used to tease me mercilessly about it - the way I would always spend like 20 minutes making sure my curls fell the right way before going over to yours for Sunday roast.”

You giggle, helplessly endeared at the thought of little 13 year old Harry, in his big chinos and polo shirts, frantically fixing his curls in the mirror, just for them to fall the way they always did.

“Clearly it didn’t work,” he says, smiling over at you.

“Maybe not at the time,” you say, “But I promise those curls have really done a number on me over the years.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” you say emphatically as he raises his eyebrows, huffing out a laugh. “You don’t even know.”

“I’d like to,” he says, his voice rumbling out like gravel. The expression on his face makes your breath catch in your throat, still not used to the way he can so easily go from a regular conversation to making you feel like you’re on fire.

“Bloody narcissist,” you say, the waver in your voice being a dead giveaway as to how affected you are and it makes him smirk, his eyes twinkling.

“Oh, but you love it,” he teases.

“Yeah,” you say with a deep breath, “turns out I do.”

His face floods with emotion then, his eyes darting all over your face before he takes a deep breath, breaking eye contact to look down at his hands with a furrow in his brow.

“Maybe if I had just told you back then…”

“H.” you say gently, “We were kids. I’m not sure a relationship between two 13 year olds would have stood the test of time.”

“Yeah, I just -” he drags a hand down his face. “That 13 year old kid knew exactly what he wanted when it came to you. And for me - I…My entire world flipped upside down when I was 16. Everything changed, all at once, forever. The only things that were constant in my life were Mum, Gemma… and you.”

You inhale sharply at that, a sound louder than you meant it to be, as it makes his head snap up and reach for your hand, holding it between both of his own as he turns to face you.

“And I couldn’t mess with that. To be honest, I don’t know that I even wanted to, just assumed that how I felt about you was how someone feels about their closest friend. You were my best mate and I needed that, as much as a selfish prick as that makes me.”

“That makes sense to me,” you say, “H, I was never expecting you to -”

“But I -” he says, cutting you off, “I wish I had stopped to think about why it was different with you. Like why I wanted to deck that bloke you were seeing a few years back because he kept ordering you bloody pimms cups which you hate. Or why I couldn’t stop staring at you at mum’s birthday this past year because I…I thought you looked so beautiful.”

“You…what?” You must’ve heard him incorrectly, the sound of your heartbeat thrumming in your ears.

“Couldn’t get you off my mind for weeks, love.” he says. “But I was already engaged and –”

He makes a miserable noise at that, leaning his elbows on his thighs, his hands coming up to cover his face.

“I…I thought it was just me freaking out about getting married. Wasn’t lying when I said I was shit at relationships, I tend to flake out the moment ‘m supposed to commit. But… something felt off the second I proposed, if I’m honest. And I could never figure out why that was, we had a good relationship and it felt like the right thing to do…so I just ignored it. Thought it was just fear of being tied down.”

“When I called you on my birthday, I almost told you about it. About how I didn’t think I should go through with it. But I…”, he shakes his head, taking a deep breath, his voice thick with emotion, “I couldn’t figure out how to articulate it. And I got scared. Of what you might say. ‘Nd what it might mean. ‘Ve always done what people want me to do so going against that…I couldn’t – I was all over the place. Couldn’t figure out what I wanted or what I should do –”

He shakes his head, taking a moment to collect himself before looking over at you, tears in his eyes. He reaches out his hand to take yours, lacing your fingers together, looking you right in the eyes.

“But then… there you were. Standing in that courtyard, looking unbelievable. And telling me you loved me. And suddenly everything made sense. All the confusion I felt over the past year. All the questions I’ve had about us over the years. I …it all felt wrong because it wasn’t with you. And it’s always been you.”

You don’t think you’ve breathed in the last minute, unable to do anything but hold his hand tight, tears already falling down your cheeks as he reaches up to brush one away.

“Think I started loving you when I was 13 and a part of me never stopped. ‘Nd I’m so sorry it took me this long to realize it. But nothing in my life has ever made more sense to me than being here with you, right now. I – come closer to me,” he says, pulling at your hand and wrapping his arm around your waist, not letting go until you’re situated in his lap.

He looks up at you, a few tears in his eyes that you bring your hand up to wipe away as he smiles at you. Looking at you with adoration in his eyes. Bringing his hands up to cup your cheeks, he takes a deep breath before saying:

“I love you.”

You take a moment to take in his features, the love in his eyes, the smile so wide the dimple is showing, knowing your matching grin looks the same. He’s here. He’s yours.

You can’t explain the sound you make as you crash your lips to his, his hand coming up to the back of your neck, the other holding you at the hip to keep you in place. It’s a bit of a mess, with the tears from both of your cheeks, the way you can’t stop smiling to get a proper kiss in, the way he keeps mumbling “’m sorry, i love you” between kisses but… it’s perfect.

You pull back slightly, wary of moving too far away, wanting to keep as much of yourself touching him as possible, but wanting to get a good look at his face.

“Thank you for telling me all of that.”

“Was a lot, wasn’t it?” he says with a sheepish laugh.

“The most you’ve ever talked I think.” you say with a giggle as he pinches your hip.

“I really am sorry, you know” he says sincerely. “I wish I had been less of a coward —”

“Think you’re being too hard on yourself. There was a lot going on. I never said anything to you either. I was also trying to do the right thing, what was expected. And I was purposefully trying to detach myself to make things easier —”

“Yeah, don’t do that again.”, he says, arms tightening around you, pulling you in impossibly closer.

“I won’t,” you say with a giggle.

“Good.”

You take a moment to stare at him. At your boy. The only boy you’ve ever loved. “Harry?”

He hums in response, a soft smile on his lips.

“I love you, too.”

His eyes flutter shut at that, taking a deep breath as his smile grows wider, opening his eyes back up to look right at you.

“Can you say it again, please?”

“I love you, I love you, I love you I l–”

He cuts you off with a sweet kiss, holding you like you’re the most precious thing, thumb drawing circles on your hip. A sigh falls from your mouth as he leans in to kiss you once more, his lips pressing to yours over and over.

He slowly pulls away, burying his head into your neck, inhaling deeply as he tightens his arms around you. The two of you sit there, holding each other close, breathing each other in. Both reveling in the ability to finally have the person you love, the person you’ve always loved, in your arms.

Slowly, you start to feel his mouth on your neck, lips dragging against the skin, tongue slipping out between kisses to taste the skin in a way that has your toes curling. He kisses a slow line up your neck, pausing at that one spot behind your ear. He sucks a mark into the skin, making himself known, the sensation has you letting out a small moan.

His hands tighten on your hips at the sound, a soft groan leaving his mouth as he gently nips at your skin before he pulls back. His eyes graze all of your face before landing on your lips. The shift in energy is palpable, simmering between you two. His hand comes up to the back of your neck, tightening slightly when you lick your lips.

“Fuck.”

He dives back in, the kiss quickly descending into pure heat as his tongue swipes against your lips, groaning deeply in his chest when you lick into his mouth, your hand sliding up into his hair. His tongue passes over yours, not giving you a second to breathe as he bites down at your bottom lip before kissing you deeply once more.

When you pull away to catch your breath, he starts to kiss his way along your jaw, sucking at the skin when he gets to your neck.

“H?” You’re panting, desperately trying to hold it together but every second with his lips on your skin is one second closer to you just taking him right here on this bench.

He lets out a guttural groan, hand tightening on your hip, his hips rolling up into yours in a way that makes you feel all of him. Shit, had you said that last bit out loud?

“Harry,” you breathe out.

“Yeah, baby?” he says, lips moving against your skin. And well, fuck. He’s never called you that before, the pet name sending a jolt straight to your core as you tighten your fingers in his hair. You can feel him smiling against your neck, clearly loving the effect he’s having on you.

“Take me home.”

He groans quietly against your throat, pulling his head back to look at you as his arms tighten around your waist, his eyes dark, pupils blown.

“Yeah,” he says, leaning in to kiss you firmly. “Yes, please. Yeah. Let’s - let’s go.”

He kisses you once more before leaning back, offering a hand up to help you off of his lap and standing once you’re all set. Smirking as he not so subtly adjusts himself. He bends down to pick up the bottle of wine and then takes your hand, pulling you close and wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Come on, baby.” he says. “Let’s go home.”

– - - -

The tension from earlier seems to have faded slightly on the walk back, as the two of you toe off your sneakers, swollen lips offering shy smiles, your heart thundering with nerves. You wanted him, you’ve always wanted him, there was no doubt about that. You’ve fantasized about it, dreamt about it and now that it was actually about to happen, you weren’t sure what to do. It would be one thing if he had grown up just looking like all the other guys your age, but no, he had to go and turn himself into walking sex on legs. You were losing it.

You look up to find him smiling softly at you, holding up the bottle of wine in his hand.

“Could pour us a glass, if you’d like.”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” you say with a nod, watching as he walks over to the kitchen. You follow slowly behind, trying to make yourself snap out of it. You loved him and he just told you he loved you. He loved you. You wanted him and it seems like he wanted you just as badly, if his groans were any indication. You’ve spent so much of your life being afraid of what could happen between you two, what could go wrong and now, there was nothing to be afraid of. Not here. Not right now.

As you watched him reach up for two glasses, his shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of skin, his abs and laurel tattoos peeking out, you decided you didn’t want wine after all. You were thirsty for something else entirely. You cringe at yourself for that last one. No more thinking.

“Harry? I actually - I changed my mind.” you say, taking a few steps over to get closer to him. “I don’t want wine anymore.”

“Yeah?”, he says, turning around to lean against the counter and crossing his arms, his biceps suddenly bulging in a way you can’t take your eyes off of. He watches as your eyes drag down his body before locking eyes with him as he licks his lips. “What do you want?”

“You. I want you. It’s all I –” The words are barely out of your mouth when he hooks his fingers through the belt loop of your jeans, pulling you right into him as he captures your lips with his. The sweetness from earlier long forgotten as he hotly licks into your mouth, his tongue sweeping over yours in a way that makes your head spin. His hands drift down to your ass, squeezing once as he moans into your mouth, pulling you even closer to him.

He spins you suddenly, pinning you against the countertop and grinding his hips against yours as he drags his lips down your neck. You’re panting, dragging your hands down his biceps, the muscles flexing as he plants his hands on the countertop, caging you in. His lips drag along your cheekbone before they find their way to yours once again. He kisses you hard as you trail your hands up his arms and down his back, his unbelievable back muscles that you can’t help but knead your hands into as you roll your hips up into his. He groans in appreciation, pulling away to press kisses along your jaw, one of his hands sliding up your sweater, just resting possessively against your ribs, his thumb grazing the edge of your bra. The feeling of his hands on your skin making your core throb as he sucks at the skin of your neck, determined to leave a mark.

“Harry,” you moan out his name in a way that has him sucking harder, his hand gripping you tighter. “We should - bedroom.”

He pulls back to look at you, panting to catch his breath. His lips are swollen, eyes the darkest you’ve ever seen them as he drags his thumb across your bottom lip, almost growling when your tongue swipes out to taste it.

“C’mere.” He takes a step back and pulls you into him, pressing his lips to yours once again, looping his arms around your hips. “Jump.”

You don’t think about it, just do, as you jump up into his arms, looping your legs around his waist.

“This okay?”

“Yeah,” you say breathlessly, bending your head down to mouth at the skin of his neck. “Drop me and I’ll kill you.”

“Not gonna do that,” he says, making his way out of the kitchen before letting go for a millisecond, you drop down a centimeter as you squeal before his arms catch you once more, holding you tight.

“Oh, you absolute arsehole!”

You can feel his giggles as much as you can hear them which sets you off to the point where he has to stop walking, arms holding you tight as you both dissolve into laughter. You pull your head back to look at him, finding him smiling up at you.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Is your back okay?”

He rolls his eyes, tightening his arms around you.

“M’back’s fine.” he says, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours before claiming your lips in a sweet kiss. He leans back to smile up at you, his dimple making an appearance.

You wind your hand up into the hairs at the nape of his neck, taking a moment to survey him, your eyes immediately drawn to his arms, flexed with effort but showing no signs of strain or struggle. Fuck, he’s so strong.

“Your arms are driving me insane,” you whisper, mostly to yourself but he hears you, huffing out a laugh as he leans in to plant a line of kisses down your neck.

“Yeah? You like them?” he asks, flexing them intentionally, grinning when you squeeze them.

“Harry.” you all but whine. “Take me to bed.”

He moans at that, pressing his lips to yours and kissing you deeply before continuing to walk down the hallway, holding you tight against him. You drag your lips along the skin of his neck, sucking lightly as he kicks the bedroom door open, sliding his hands to your thighs to help you ease to the ground, every inch of your body sliding against his as you do.

You stand there, looking at each other, before he swallows heavily, bringing his slightly shaking hands up to cup your face, leaning in to kiss you once more. He presses his lips to yours once, twice before pulling away and resting his forehead against yours.

“You nervous?” he whispers against your lips.

You nod. “A bit. Are you?”

“A bit. ‘S a big deal. You’re a big deal.” His thumb rubs against your cheekbone as he pulls back to look you right in the eyes. “But I love you and you love me. And I want you. And you want me.”

“I do,” you say, your hands coming to rest at his hips. “I really do. Wanna show you how much.”

“I’m yours, darling.”

You lean up to capture his lips with yours, swiping your tongue over his as you slide your hands under his shirt, pushing the fabric up before he breaks away from your mouth to pull the shirt over his head.

And there he is. Shirtless in a bedroom with you. You’ve been in this position before, but never like this. Never with his hooded eyes burning into your face as you take him all in. He’s yours to love. To touch. To fuck.

You slide your hand down his chest, his head ducked to follow the movement, before you’re undoing the button on his trousers, sliding your hand inside to cup at his length, already half hard, through his briefs. His head tilts back on his neck, his breath coming in short bursts as he drags his hand down your back to grab a firm handful of your arse.

You spin yourselves around, walking him backward before pushing him down lightly on the foot of the bed. His hands propped up to hold himself up, his legs spread wide as he watches you walk over to him, reaching out to grab your wrist and pulling you onto his lap.

“Y’ wearing too many clothes.” he says, his hands already traveling up your sweater.

“I wasn’t done.” you huff out, which turns more into a pant as he leans in to kiss you on the neck.

“Just need you more naked, love. Won’t interrupt again, I just - ” he cuts himself off, grabbing the hem of your sweater and pulling it over your head, his eyes immediately roaming over your skin.

And this is…being naked, even half naked, in front of someone for the first time is always nerve-wracking, regardless of how you feel about your appearance (and you were hot and you knew it, okay?!) but this is a whole other level. You’re a bit frozen in place, desperate to know if he likes what he sees.

He must feel you stiffen, because his hands immediately come to rest at your hips.

“You okay?” he asks, his eyes never once straying from yours.

“Yeah,” you say, huffing out a nervous laugh. “Just got nervous about you seeing me naked. Wondering if you liked it”

“Y- what?! Y’can’t be serious.” he all but squawks.

“I didn’t say it was rational!” you say with a giggle. “Just - it’s a big deal.”

“For me, too. ‘S an honor. A privilege. Thanking m’lucky stars –

“Oh my god.” you say, rolling your eyes.

“‘M serious. Y’ dead sexy.” he says, leaning in to plant a scintillating kiss to your neck before pulling back, suddenly serious. “Did you want to stop?”

“No, no, no. Not at all,” you say, threading your hand through his hair. “I want this. Want you. Thought about it so many times.”

He moans at that, sucking a kiss behind your ear before pulling back to whisper, “Gonna tell me what you thought about?”

“Wanna show you.” you say as he groans, kissing your neck once more before pulling away.

“‘M not done yet” he says, eyes locking with yours before sweeping down your body again. “Fuck. So beautiful.”

He plants a line of kisses down your neck, stopping to suck a mark on your collarbone as reaches around to unclasp your bra, helping it slide off your shoulders. He stares for a moment before diving in, kisses roaming from your sternum down to your breasts, wrapping his lips around one nipple while his hand massages the other. You’re overwhelmed, moaning at the sensation. You could stay here forever, slowly becoming putty in his hands as he moves his mouth to your other breast. But that’s not what you want.

You lean back, stopping his head with a gentle hand in his hair when he tries to follow you. His blown pupils staring right back at you.

You slip off his thigh and kneel in between his legs, grabbing his trousers and briefs by the waistband and pulling them down as he lifts his hips off the bed to help, his chest already heaving at the sight of you on your knees in front of him. Once you get them off his legs, you can’t help but gape at him. Sitting in front of you, in all his naked glory. He’s fully hard now, his glorious cock standing proud, already rosy red at the tip. He’s big. You want him inside you. But you’ve got something else to do first.

You lean in, planting kisses along his inner thigh, occasionally sucking the skin into your mouth to leave a mark while your hand sweeps up his other leg, kneading the muscle every so often. He groans, threading his hand through your hair, a mumbled “fuck me” leaving his lips as you make your way up his legs. You kiss a line along his hip, leaning in to lick at the laurel tattoos before looking up at him as he stares right back with dark eyes and a light sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“Y’ don’t have to -”

“I want to,” you say, wrapping a loose fist around his cock as you kiss along the prominent vein, reveling in the way his eyes roll back, eyes fluttering closed, a full body shudder going through him. “This okay?”

“Yes - fuck. Please.” he tightens his hand in your hair as you pump his cock once before darting your tongue out and sucking at the tip.

He immediately moans, deep and guttural, trying in vain to keep his hips still as work him into your throat. You close your eyes, reveling in the feel of him as you drag your tongue along the vein, tightening your mouth at the tip as his breathing becomes heavier. You bob your head, working your mouth open to meet your fist at the base.

“Jesus, ‘s good. ‘S so good - baby,” he groans, chest heaving as your dewy eyes open to meet his, moaning the second you make eye contact. You can feel arousal pooling at the center of your thighs, shifting on your heels to find some relief. You leave one hand on his cock, the other sliding up to rest on his butterfly tattoo, feeling it jump under your hand as you give a particularly hard suck.

You pull off with an undignified slurp, keeping your hand pumping on him as you kiss down his length. Between his sounds, his taste, the feel of his fingers against your scalp, you’re wetter than you’ve ever been. You need him.

“Doing so good for me, you look unbelievable - ” he says, groaning as you take him down once more. “Oh fuck -”

You only manage a few more bobs of your head before he’s pulling you off of him, closing his eyes to collect himself.

“Gotta - gotta stop.” he says as you unwrap your fist, dragging your hands along his thighs. “Gonna make me come - and I -”

He shakes his head, chest still heaving as he reaches for your hands, pulling you up to stand in between his thighs. He immediately presses his mouth to your belly, dragging slow, wet kisses down until he reaches the waistband of your trousers, bringing his hands up to meet his mouth.

“Can I?” You’re nodding before he can even get the words out, desperate to have his hands on you.

He unbuttons your jeans and pulls them down slowly. Once they’re at your ankles, you hastily and ungracefully kick them off. He huffs out a laugh before taking you all in, swallowing heavily before dragging his eyes to your face, resting his chin against your stomach as he looks up at you, utterly rapt. His hands knead your thighs, edging closer to where you need him most before he pulls them away again.

“Want you on my bed,” he says and you all but crawl over him to get there, snorting out a laugh when he smacks you on the bum before you settle down against the pillows.

“Was right there,” he says, giggling as he turns around to face you. “Had to do someth…”

The words die in his throat when he sees you, sitting back against his heels for a moment as his eyes roam all over you, his searing gaze making you throb. He crawls up to lay beside you, bringing two fingers under your chin to tilt your head towards him and capturing your lips with his, groaning when he can taste himself on your tongue.

“Need to touch you,” he whispers against your lips. “Can I?”

“Please.” you whisper back. He props himself up on his elbow, bringing his other hand to rest on your sternum. Your breath catches when he leans in to kiss your neck, dragging his fingertips from your collarbone down to the waistband of your underwear, pausing a moment before pushing his hand inside, his fingers teasing at your folds, at where you’re practically dripping for him.

He bites down on your neck, groaning when he feels your wetness. “‘S this all for me? Y’ got this wet from sucking my cock?”

“Shit,” you moan out, eyes rolling back as his fingers start to rub circles on your clit. Each touch sends sparks shooting down your spine.

“Y’ so wet,” he moans into your ear, kissing a line across your jaw before licking into your mouth. You thread your hand into his hair as you kiss back, or attempt to, moaning deeply when you feel his hard cock against your hip. “‘S this really all for me?”

You pull back, looking into his hooded eyes as you whisper “Sempre.”

A moan punches out of him as he closes his eyes, stilling his hand for a moment. “Don’t - don’t do that,” he says, shakily. “Gonna make me bust a nut.”

“Thought my Italian was shit.” you say, laughing, still determined to tease him despite feeling like you’re about to explode, wiggling your hips to get his fingers where you want them.

“Turns out it hits very differently when you’re naked in m’ bed….” he says, kissing you deeply once more, before slipping a finger inside you, groaning as he pulls away. “And you’re this tight -”

“H -” you gasp out, feeling like every inch of you is on fire, the coil in your stomach already tightening with each delicious curl of his finger. Fuck. You never imagined he’d feel this good.

“Y’ feel so good, baby.” he says, lips dragging against your skin. “Want you to come like this. Can y’ do that for me?”

“Yeah. Want another - .” He slides another finger inside of you, effectively cutting you off. “Yes.”

“That’s better, yeah? That’s what my girl needed.” he says, resting his forehead against your temple. You tighten your hand in his hair, unable to focus on anything but the feel of his breath against your skin, the feeling of his fingers fucking you. The coil tightening as you start to pant. Fuck.

“Harry -” you moan, opening your eyes to look at him, his pupils blown out wide, nostrils flared as his eyes roam across your face before locking with yours. He kisses you, tongue gliding over yours as he brings his thumb to rub against your clit. Heat sears through you, thighs tightening as you feel yourself hurtling closer to the edge. “‘I’m close - oh!”

“Y’ look so good. Want you to come.” he mumbles against your skin. All it takes is a few more pumps of his fingers, his thumb swiping in one more delicious circle, his lips brushing against yours and then you’re coming. Hard.

Wave after wave of pleasure rolls through you, as a symphony of indecipherable moans leave your mouth, your stomach pulled tight, your core throbbing. It’s never felt like this before. His fingers fucking you through the last wave before the overstimulation has you groaning. He gently pulls his fingers out and sucks them into his mouth while locking eyes with you. His eyes rolling back at your taste.

“Taste so good,” his voice grumbles out, deeper than ever before. “Could just lay here and eat y’ for hours, if y’ wanted. Make you come over and over -”

You pull his head to your mouth, kissing him while still trying to catch your breath. You bite his bottom lip as he pulls away to smatter kisses across your face, mumbling “fuck, baby. Looked so good. Did so good for me” between kisses. He pulls back to stare at your face, small smile on his lips as he brushes a strand of hair away from your sweaty brow.

“Jesus Christ.” you say as he smacks a kiss to your cheek.

“Y’ can just call me Harry, love.” he says, giggling when you smack him on the head.

“And here I was about to compliment you -” you say with a groan, making like you’re going to get up before his arm lays across your waist, holding you in place.

“No no no, none of that. Let me hear it.” he says as you shake your head. “Was it good for you?”

“No comment - ”

“No come on – tell me.”

“It was alright.”

“Alright?! Had you moaning like a banshee and you –”

“A banshee?! Oh my god –”

“A hot banshee.”

“Shut up.” you say with a laugh as he buries his head against your neck, laughing with you. Once you settle down, you feel him start to plant kisses along your neck, his hard cock more prominent than ever against your hip.

“I’ve never come that hard.” “Yeah?” “You made me feel so good.”

You use your grip in his hair to pull his head towards yours, licking at the seam of his lips until he opens his mouth, moaning into yours as you kiss him deeply. You swipe your tongue over his over and over, desperate to get lost in the sensation, to make him feel as good as you did. You needed him.

“Harry,” you mumble against your lips before he dives in once again, kissing you so deeply you have to pull away to catch your breath, looking him in the eyes as you rub your thumb against his bottom lip. “Fuck me.”

His eyes flutter shut as he groans, nipping at your thumb before kissing you firmly once more, your lips dragging down his neck when he pulls away.

“Have to - Baby. Fuck. Have to get stuff. Washroom.” he mumbles incoherently as you suck a mark into his skin, biting down to leave a bruise. Marking your territory. He dives in to kiss you deeply once more before you pull away again.

“Your cock is about to burn a hole through my leg,” you say as he sputters out a laugh.

“‘S your fault. You’ve got no idea how good you look when you come” he mumbles against your lips, licking into your mouth.

“Harry.” you whine.

“‘M going, ‘m going.” He kisses your cheek as he drags his hand down your body, snapping the waistband of your underwear. “Get these off.”

“You’re the one who left them on!” you complain to no avail, as he hops off the bed, doing an awkward shuffle run into the washroom. You pull your soaked underwear off and throw it to the floor, hearing him fumble around drawers. He’s about to fuck you. A shudder runs through you, and you bring your hand down to your clit, still swollen as you brush your fingers against the bud, letting out a loud moan of his name.

“Jesus - fuck.”

Ah, so he heard you.

You hear a large clattering noise, a few more mumbled curses before you look over to find him standing in the doorway, condoms in hand, dark eyes locked on you.

“What’re y’ doing?”

“Got impatient.”

“Fuck, baby.” He brings his hand down to his hard cock, pumping it a few times as his eyes travel up and down your body. “Y’ look so good.”

“Need you,” you moan and he all but scrambles up the foot of the bed, dropping the condoms unceremoniously as he crawls to rest in between your bent legs. You lift your fingers off your clit, moaning when he ducks down to suck them into his mouth. He kisses your fingertips before bending down to kiss along your inner thigh.

He kisses a line across your hip before licking a stripe up your core. A guttural moan bursts from your chest as you tangle your fingers in his hair. He kisses a line up your stomach, crawling up until he’s hovering over you on all fours. His cock right where you need him the most, grazing your core when he bends down to kiss you, the two of you moaning into each other’s mouths.

He pulls away to look at you, dark eyes brimming with lust and determination.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Really want to fuck you.”

“Really want you to.”

He groans, kissing you deeply once more before leaning back on his heels and ripping the condom package open with his teeth. You’re unable to do anything but watch as he rolls the condom over his cock, his biceps flexing as he pumps himself once.

“Want y’ like this, if that’s okay.” he says, coming to hover over you once more. “Want to see you.”

“Yes, please.”

He lines himself up with your center, “deep breath for me,” and pushes in, smattering kisses across your face.

“Oh fuck.”

“Is it - fuck - okay? Y’good?”

“You’re big.” you moan out, clenching around him as you try to adjust to his size. “Just - give me a minute.”

“Take your time,” he says as he kisses at the hinge of your jaw bone. He drags his mouth across your forehead, temple, cheekbone as you take another deep breath, feeling yourself relax around him and oh shit - yes.

“You can move.” “Y’sure?”

“Yes, please - fuck.” The expletive is dragged out of you as he pulls his hips back before thrusting forward slowly. It feels like every nerve ending is on fire, like you’re ignited from within. He’s barely begun and you already can’t catch your breath.

“Fuck. Y’ feel so good.” he mumbles against your skin, lowering his arms so every inch of his skin is touching yours, you both groan at the sensation as he drags his hips back once again.

“You can - faster.” you gasp out, dragging your hands down his back grabbing a handful of his ass. “Please. Wanna feel it.”

He growls at that, kissing you deeply as he starts to fuck you. Really fuck you. Smooth, deep thrusts filling you every time. And then - oh fuck. You let out a loud moan, your hands scrambling for hold on his sweaty back.

“That’s it, yeah? Right there?” he asks as you feverishly nod your head. “Fuck, baby - y’feel -”

He lets out a guttural groan, reaching down to pull your thighs further up against his hips, moaning at the new angle. You bury your hand into his hair again, pulling on a particularly deep thrust as he moans against your neck in appreciation. You start to move your hips up against his and it takes a minute but eventually you hit a rhythm that is indescribable. It’s hard to tell where he ends and you begin. The two of you moving in tandem, working hard to make the other feel as good as possible.

He’s vocal, more so than you ever expected him to be. When he’s not mumbling praises into your hair, he’s moaning or grunting, never wavering in his determination to give it all to you. His lips drag all over your skin as he plants a kiss right over your beating heart, then licking a stripe up your neck before sucking a mark behind your ear.

“Wanted you so bad. Never imagined - fuck,” he grunts out, his abs sliding against your stomach, tattoos glistening in exertion. “Y’ feel incredible.”

He was all consuming. Determined to stay as close to you as possible, occasionally propping himself on one elbow to drag his hand down your body, squeezing at your breasts, biting your lips. You couldn’t catch your breath, feeling like every inch of you was on fire. Every drag of his hips makes your toes curl, core clenching as you melt into the mattress.

You look up at the furrow in his brow, his hooded eyes staring back at you, pure concentration in hitting you just right. Fuck. You felt yourself careening towards your high once more, clenching around him as he groaned. You threaded your hand into his hair, pulling his mouth towards you. You kissed him deeply, clenching when he thrust just right, pulling away with a gasp.

“Fuck, H. I -”

“Y’close?” he asked, moaning when you nod. “Gonna come on my cock?”

“Yeah. Fuck -” you moan, sliding your hand between your bodies to rub at your clit. Sparks fly the second your fingers make contact, he mouths along your jaw as you circle your clit. He locks eyes with you as he drags his hips out before thrusting hard. It immediately sends you over the edge, your mouth open in a silent scream as your body shakes through it. You can feel it all the way down to your toes, the waves of pleasure consuming you once again. You can’t stop clenching around him as he bites into your skin.

“Fuck, baby. Just like that. Oh - shit. Gonna make me -” he moans, thrusting in short bursts, his face screwed up in determination, his muscles tense. A guttural moan punches out of him as he comes, hard. You can feel him empty into the condom as he ducks down to kiss you, rough and deep, moaning as his whole body shudders. It’s all you can do to hold tight to his hair, kissing him back as best you can. His kisses slow, turning softer before he buries his head into your neck as you both shake with aftershocks.

It’s silent for a few moments. Just the sounds of you both trying to catch your breath. You drag your hand up and down his back as he breathes you in, not daring to move quite yet. You let your legs slide down to the mattress as he pulls his head back to look at you, a relaxed, blissful expression on his face. And to your surprise, tears in his eyes.

He brings his hand up to cup your face, rubbing his thumb on your cheekbone before leaning in to kiss you sweetly, sniffling once as he pulls away.

“Sorry I -” he shakes his head, shutting his eyes for a moment before opening them to stare right at you, his eyes soft with emotion. “That was incredible. I -”

He dives in to kiss you once more, moaning softly when you open your mouth to him, dragging your tongue against his before closing the kiss. He leans his forehead against yours.

“I never imagined it’d be that good. That it could feel like this. That we would…It’s never - I’ve never felt like this before. With anyone. ”

Tears spring to your eyes as you take in his earnest expression, the feeling on his body of yours, his hands on your skin.

“I know. Me too. That was…” You look up at him, the two of you staring in each other’s eyes, emotions you’re unable to articulate flowing through you. In awe that you’re both equally affected. You reach up, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear, keeping your fingertips resting lightly on his face.

“You took such good care of me,” you whisper.

He blinks rapidly in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, a whispered “Baby.” leaving his lips as he leans down to kiss you softly. You both just lay there, sweet kisses expressing the love words cannot.

You pull away with a soft sigh, looking up at him in a daze, taking a deep breath as you run your hand through his sweaty hair.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Chills erupt across your body as you lean up to capture his lips once more.

“Should probably pull out now.” he whispers against your lips as you snort.

“Romantic.”

He smacks a kiss against your temple as he leans back, pulling out as you both grimace. He leans back against his heels as he pulls the condom off, tying it off and throwing it into the trash next to the bed before collapsing on top of your body.

“Oof.” you groan as he laughs, planting slow kisses along your neck, before wrapping his arms around you and rolling onto his back, holding you close as you lay on top of him.

You look down at him, the post sex glow working wonders on him as he smiles sleepily at you.

“Tired you out, did I?” You ask with a smile that widens when he huffs out a laugh.

“You got me good, darling.” he whispers, pulling you closer and holding you against him as he brushes kisses along your forehead.

“Should probably pee,” you mumble.

“Sexy.”

You snort as you pull away from him, proving more to be more difficult than it should as he refuses to let you get too far. He eventually drops his hands as you roll off the bed and shuffle to the washroom.

You hurry over to the toilet to pee, flushing and standing up to wash your hands, almost gasping at your reflection in the mirror. You look well and truly fucked. Your hair is a bit of a rat’s nest, you’ve got bruises blooming all over your neck and chest but you’ve also got a glow that you’ve never seen before. You like this look on you.

You dry your hands, shuffling back into the bedroom as you hear soft snores. You look up to find him spread on the bed, still completely naked, and asleep.

You gently shake him awake as he looks over at you with bleary eyes.

“Might help to get under the covers.”

“Shit. Sorry didn’t mean to fall asleep -” he cuts himself off with a yawn. “Just did a lot of hard work, you know.”

“Trust me, I know. Gonna be feeling you for days.” He inhales sharply at that, eyes darkening as you look over at him.

“Yeah?” he says smugly, already sliding his way closer to you, his hand reaching out to grab you as you skeptically lift an eyebrow.

“You were snoring a minute ago, H.” you say, tugging at the covers to get him off of the bed.

He rolls his eyes at you, standing up and stretching and you get so distracted by the expanse of skin that you freeze for a moment.

“The covers, love?”

You snap back to attention to find him looking at you with a smug gleam in his eye. You pull the covers back and slide into bed, he immediately follows suit.

“Don’t want to fall asleep on you after I rocked your world.” He says with a yawn. “Could stay up and talk, if you wanted.”

“You just yawned like 8 times in the last 30 seconds.”

“That is an exaggeration,” he says a yawn breaking through his speech as he quickly clamps his mouth shut in an attempt to quell it. You look at him with a raised eyebrow as he smiles back meekly.

You lean in to give him a kiss, murmuring “Let’s go to sleep.”

“If you insist,” he says, as if he’s not the one already drifting off. You lean over to flip the lamp off and he wraps his arm around you, pulling you down so your head lays across his chest, as you wrap your arm around his waist, tangling your legs with his.

“Love you.” he mumbles sleepily, his breaths already coming in deeper, slower.

“Love you too,” you say, squeezing at his waist as you close your eyes, finding yourself drifting off to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. Feeling more loved than you ever have in your life. Just you and your boy, in your own little bubble. You fall into a deep sleep, blissfully ignorant of just how soon this little love bubble you’ve found yourselves in would pop. Big time.

-----

a/n: wowweee. can we believe it?! thanks for sticking with me and my long ass updates if you have. would love to know your thoughts! pls pls pls.fingers crossed its not the worst smut you've ever read xo

taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles

[jxmey]

actual conversation between me and my bf

convo between me and my bf after i showed him this shitpost

[saryasy]

Alison as Eleanor in BBC Ghosts S03E05 - Something to Share?

anon asked for Alison in the pink dress which... I don't think it is? so I made it pink lol

Bonus: the actual dress

[adrinktostopyourthirst]

Bucky Barnes | One Shot | Fling

Part two to Sting

Pairing: TattooArtist!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Plot: Your tattoo artist left you hanging and you’re fed up enough to come and collect his excuse.

Warnings: 18+. Smut and mean Bucky.

Words: 5,OOO

A/N: I made a promise and I'm not one to break a promise. So here is part two to a fic you all really enjoyed. I said I wasn't leaving and I meant it!

Chewing your lip, you blankly gaze ahead of you as your friends smoke and talk some more. The entire street is filled with people from the strip, everyone trying to catch a breath and cool off as the summer night air simmers through the city. Crossing your arms over your chest and bouncing your leg, your mind trails off to the previous week.

You swallow hard and gently brush your thumb over the spot where Bucky had left the tattoo over your ribs. Every time your mind travels back to that day, you want to scream. It’s like you can hear the disturbing ‘ding’ of the tattoo shop door opening when it penetrated your lust-filled mind – like you can still feel the cold air brush over your nipples when Bucky’s mouth abandoned you.

And the rest is a blur.

A blur where one of his old time clients showed up unannounced to get Bucky to work on one of the larger pieces he had been asked to do and where Bucky somewhat uncomfortably, even with his oozing arrogance and indifference, sent you on your way. You didn’t have to pay for the tattoo and your cheeks were burning with heat once you passed the old time client who was giving you a strange look while Bucky led him to the room he defiled you in.

Safe to say you are pissed. Still to this day. It had been hard enough to get an appointment and to avoid Bucky’s presence along with it. And you completely failed, had to bear the uncomfortable half hour of him giving you your tattoo, then he had the fucking nerve to rile you up and turn you into a weak puddle of a person, only to send you on your merry way like you were any other client before he could fulfil all of his empty promises. As pissed as you are for the way he treated you and how you wanted the ground to swallow you whole from the embarrassment you felt, you are mainly just furious because you have not been able to shake him since.

It's like there is a permanent burning between your legs, as if Bucky put a dark magic in the ink of your tattoo that keeps chanting his name through your body, like you’re tethered to him at all times. Your orgasms were mere bumps instead of the usual mind-blowing peaks, your skin has never been this sensitive and every brush of air is making your body stand on alert. Your hands have never been this restless and at one point, you were so frustrated, you could barely do something as simple as pour a glass of water.

All because your grumpy, piece of shit tattoo artist Bucky Barnes, had left you hanging after probably the best foreplay of your goddamn life.

So when your slightly fuzzy brain spots his figure towering between the drunken crowd and slipping into the alley you know had the back entrance of his shop, you can’t stop your feet from moving. It’s primal, the instinct that forces you his way. Like it’s addicted to him and could find him in any crowd, anywhere. Without taking your eyes off your target destination, you mumble a reason for your departure to your friends, shouldering yourself through the crowd until you approach the dark alley.

What the hell is he doing here in the middle of the night?

You pass a couple pressed against the brick wall in their own passions and give them a brief glance as they fail to notice you before returning your gaze to where you know a metal door is hidden in the wall. And sure enough, fumbling with the lock of the door, is the metal-armed artist.

“What the hell are you doing here at this time?” You ask him, crossing your arms over your chest as you pop your hip out and look him up and down.

His shoulders sag and Bucky lets out a frustrated sigh before slowly turning his frame to face you. It’s almost as if he was waiting for you to show up, like you are the one thing he was trying to avoid.

“Excuse me?” He raises an unimpressed brow at you, shooting a brief glance at the dry-humping couple at the end of the alley way before his eyes land back on you.

You have no reason to talk to him that way – like you know him and are allowed to scold him – but you don’t care. The alcohol has slightly affected your inhibitions and you are still pissed off.

“You heard me.” You bluff.

“How can I help you, sweetheart?” He grumbles, clearly annoyed by the intrusion as he still rests his metal hand on the door handle, ready to leave.

You try not to look too offended when you hear his tone. Like you’re just any lost woman trying to catch his attention and he’ll not-so-gladly return you to your designated friend group to get you off his ass. Just when you think your fury couldn’t get any worse…

Giving him the deadliest glare you have in your arsenal, you fumble with your purse and grab your wallet, hands shaking with fury and again, embarrassment. Of course he wouldn’t remember you. Frantically searching for the notes of money buried in there, you fish out a sum large enough to cover for the tattoo, walk over to him and shove the money into his pocket.

“Realised I still owe you for that tattoo.” You spit out, biting back the litany of names you want to scream at him for treating you like some cheap slut.

Turning around and barging off, you don’t get too far as a firm hand wraps around your upper arm and pulls you back. Stumbling on your feet, you collapse with your back into what you assume is his hard chest and with an angry huff, that same hand grabs your head twists it to the side to face the open door and pushes you into the dark and abandoned building.

The metal door slams closed and for a second, there is so little you can see, you have to squint to see the exit sign at the end of the hall. That’s when red lights flicker on and a buzzing sound permeates the air, the lights slowly illuminating more and more of the hallway.

“Always with the goddamn act. Ready to make a fucking scene.” He spits and you feel a push in your back, making you stumble forward. Following the silent order, you drag your light feet forward until you hear another door open and turn around to watch Bucky hold a random door open for you.

“Don’t get shy now. Walk.” He grunts and you give him a long look, unable to spot anything, before shuffling inside where you immediately recognise the interior of his shop, soft neon brightening the walls that are littered with his designs.

“Why are you here at this time?” You asks, your voice softened in comparison to earlier.

“I have shit to do.” He answers and starts rummaging around the shop.

“In the middle of the night?” You frown and turn back to him.

“How is your tattoo?” He asks, blatantly ignoring your prying question.

“Healed. Not thanks to you.” You retort.

Walking over to the check out desk, you take a seat at the bar stool under it, waiting for to ascend from behind the desk. You hear him grumble and huff, small curse words slipping through his complaints before he pushes back to a stand.

“Good. I’m glad.” He murmurs absentmindedly and walks off to the sink, filling a glass of water as he turns his back to you.

You frown at him and bite the inside of your cheek, “Are you? Because I’m pretty sure you couldn’t care less when you sent me away after your slutty tricks.”

He turns around after putting the glass down, resting against the sink and crossing his arms over his chest, his dark eyes piercing yours as he glowers at you.

“I couldn’t.” He shrugs after a moment of silence and you refrain from letting your jaw drop to the floor at the sheer audacity of the man opposite to you.

“God, you’re a fucking piece of shit, you know that?” You groan and slide off the stool, grabbing your purse and stalking off towards the back door again. But once more, Bucky’s hand stops you dead in your tracks as he holds out the sum of money you shoved in his pocket earlier.

“Take this.”

“No.” You seethe up at his dead-panned face, “You keep it and let it weigh on your guilty conscience that you earned that by feeling me up.”

One of his brows rises and a faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, his grip tightening on your arm as he leans down until his breath fans over your warm face, “In that case, sweetheart, I’m a little more expensive.”

Your eyes widen with white hot anger and you rip your arm from his grip before shoving his chest with all the power you can muster, making him smirk even more blatantly as he barely loses his balance. You thump your fists over his chest over and over, growling with anger at his outrageous statement.

“You fuckin-” You scream at him and he merely laughs as his hands wrap tightly around your fist and hold up your hands to stop your vicious attack.

“That’s enough.” His voice is unbearably deep.

“Not nearly.” You push through gritted teeth and he gives you a bored glare.

“Yes, it is. Would you let me explain?”

“And give you the chance to pretend you don’t know me? No, thank you.” You roll your eyes and struggle to pry your wrists free from his grip.

He drags you over to the stool and manhandles you with ease until you’re sat on the puffy cushion before grabbing the glass of water, slamming it down onto the desk and looking down at you with a serious expression on his face – not too different from his usual expression.

“Drink some fucking water and hear me out.”

You narrow your eyes at him, pondering over your choices until your curiosity wins the inner battle and you nod faintly at him to start speaking.

“That client isn’t exactly one of the friendly kind.” He starts, “I got into business with him because he makes good money and I can’t exactly ignore him. But I didn’t want him to ask any weird questions, so I got you out of there as soon as possible. He’s a bit ruthless when it comes to things he wants to get his hands on.”

“I can handle myself just fine.” You mutter, a weak defence to the slight shock of his story.

“I don’t doubt that. But not on my watch.” He grumbles and you can see his jaw clench tightly, the tension rippling through the muscles of his arms and shoulders. Bucky is fighting for his life to keep his composure. You’re too feisty for your own good and it makes him want to scream in frustration and pull out his hair.

As stubbornly quiet as you were the last session, he should have known you’d get worse in a situation like this. And perhaps he should have let you stand outside in the alley and get back to your friends, but he’s never felt guilty for being a dick before. It’s always been easier to keep people at a distance, but he realised after giving you your tattoo and sending you off after turning him on beyond comprehension, that he didn’t want any distance between you. The chance of you coming back or running into him was slim and he couldn’t take it.

He is more than happy that you’re a feisty one, because that’s what brought you to confront him after last time. And when your eyes flash with fury and your fists ball, all he wants is to sink to his knees and make you stutter and stammer while you continue to try and be angry with him. He wants those grabby hands wrapped in his hair like when he had your perky nipple in his mouth and he wants to feel the throbbing of your cunt on his thigh, all warm and welcoming.

“You’re mean, you know that?” You mutter as you finish your water and put down the glass next to your purse.

“You’re not very nice either.” Bucky lies fluently. You could threaten him with a knife and he’d melt on the spot. You’d still be fucking nice to him. Not that you would ever find out. And Bucky has to bite back a smirk that you’d come back to him even after he’s been a complete ass to you.

You slide off the stool again and slowly pace the tattoo shop, nodding slowly as you contemplate his words. That’s when you decide to leap. Whether it’s the alcohol making you do it, or the fact that you feel your skin still burning from his touch (or lack thereof), or that the gravel in his voice makes your stomach tense up with anticipation, you don’t know. But you’re not used to guys like him and you want to explore some new territory. So you turn around, only to find him closer than you expected and with his muscular arms crossed over his broad chest.

“I like it when you’re mean.” You mutter, your voice seemingly not your own, and Bucky cocks his head to the side, his eyes narrowing as they trail over all your features. The silence becomes unbearable. Not because it’s uncomfortable, but quite the opposite. It’s thick and suffocating, his gaze on you making blood rush to the surface of your skin. You almost look down at yourself to check if you’re still clothed.

You wish you weren’t. Wish his mouth was on you again. Wish to feel the scrape of his stubble against your chest and the vibration of his voice against your sensitive skin. You wish the warmth of his tongue over your breasts and the pressure of his thigh between yours.

“God, you’re pathetic…” He rolls his eyes and you swallow hard, conflicted by his words. You’re not sure if he still wants nothing to do with you, or if he’s buttering you up to devour you.

“Is that all you got?” You bluff, hoping to coax the latter from him.

His smirk is dark, the blue neon making him look even more threatening. He steps over, three long, slow strides and shoves his hands into his pockets, peering down at your glassy eyes.

“You know it’s not.” He drawls lowly and you straighten your back.

Show me. Show me. Please, show me.

You feel like if you scream it in your head loudly enough, it might reach him, even when as keep your face straight. But you don’t know about Bucky’s advantage. Except for the arm and the obvious strength that ripples from his stature, you don’t know about his heightened senses. His hearing that picks up your thudding heartbeat, his eyes spotting every little tick in your face that gives away your racing thoughts. Or the smell of you that permeates the air and makes Bucky fight for his life not to let his eyes roll to the back of his head. But he’s not one to beat around the bush and he likes seeing you squirm.

“Fucking hell, I can smell you from here.” He almost growls as his eyes lustfully drop down, instantly activating a fluttery pounding between your legs as you drench your underwear. While you rub your legs together at the sensation, his eyelids flutter as if he smells the heady scent of fresh arousal before lifting his eyes back up to yours where he notices your frozen state.

“S-Smell me?” You stammer and his face turns serious, his arm raising to take your chin between his fingers.

“Does that make you nervous?” He mocks, cocking his head to the side and you straighten again, your eyes falling to his lips. Those sinful lips.

“No.” It’s more of a breath than anything else.

“Then let me have a taste.” He breathes back, his words almost a whisper as he leans in so close, that his lips almost brush over yours, making your eyes fall closed at the mere teasing from his proximity.

“Taste…” You repeat, your bottom lip briefly brushing his top lip as you breathe the word. It is taking all of your brain capacity to figure it out. His request. How many ways there are for him to have a taste. How many ways you’d like him to have a taste. And you nod, almost melting into his grip on your chin.

“Say it.” He breathes again and your lips part as you feel his breath brush over the freshly bitten skin. One breath. Two breaths. Three breaths. Your heart pounding thrice as fast.

“Taste me.” You choke out and he’s on you.

Your moan that spills into his mouth the second it connects with yours gets swept away by his tongue against your top lip to lick into you, both his hands at your jaw as he tilts your head further back and hauls you up against his mouth. He’d devour you if he could.

Fingers clasping onto the worn fabric of his shirt to make sure you have some grip as Bucky ravages your mouth, uses your mouth, simply because you don’t think he has any other purpose than to do so, your eyes nearly roll back at the intensity of his kiss and the throbbing between your legs intensifies.

While your hands slide up his neck and into his hair, his own slide down to your waist to claw at you and pull you nearer. When the pressure of your body against him is semi-satisfactory, Bucky’s hands grab your ass and pull you over his thigh, your drenching core instantly warming into his jeans. You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet before.

You’d expect more self control from the cynical tattoo artist, but he still has more of a grip than you do. He could shove you to your knees and you would instantly open your mouth and stick out your tongue for him. Though Bucky seems more focused on the feeling of your heartbeat against his thigh and the warmth that permeates through the fabric of his jeans, so you roll your hips against him, tugging at his hair as your breath hitches and your kiss comes to a halt.

His brow presses to yours, squeezing the flesh of your ass and making your hips roll into the same movement again, causing the same stutter in your breath as heat bursts through your skin and reaches him.

“Good girl.” He breathes and your eyes flutter at the praise. The long-awaited praise.

“Bucky…” You gasp and you want him – no, need him to take over, because you don’t know what to do with all that frantic desire coursing through your bloodstream. And then you feel your dress being shoved over your ass, the harsh lash to your flesh from his hand snapping you back to your sanity slightly.

“Don’t go dumb on me now.” He hisses, “I haven’t done anything yet.”

He’s waiting. Waiting for you to snap. For you to up your game and become his match. Your eyes snap open, the dark lust in them almost stealing his breath until you pull at his hair, roughly enough to grant you some give, which you then abuse by shoving him to his knees in front of you.

The flash of delight across his face makes you swallow hard as you peer down your nose at the man who is struggling to keep his eyes on your face. You can almost read his mind. How he argues with himself to watch your eyes, your lips – until dismissal echoes in his head and his eyes drop to your panties, his hands firmly on your thighs. And his lids lower, the breath he inhales sharp and strained when he focuses all his attention on his next meal.

His fingers play with the thin fabric of your panties, curling and twisting and snapping. Tugging and scrunching. Like he’s waiting for permission. And when he looks up, a cocky look of suggestion in his eyes, you grit your teeth to steady yourself.

You’re not sure you are ready for his mouth. For the things Bucky is capable of. You’re not sure you can handle his relentless and inevitable teasing after all the time that has already passed thinking about him. But you can’t help the appreciative stroke of your fingers through his hair and you may have imagined the slight flutter in his eyes at the touch.

“Taste me.”

His pupils explode below his dooming brows and his voice is hoarse when he simply rips your underwear off you, the sting of the fabric like a zap of lightning up your spine, “Yes, ma’am.”

Instead of gently leaning forward and daring a taste, the next thing you know, you get dragged to the floor, waiting for an impact that never comes. Before you can register your position lying on his floor, you get hauled towards Bucky and he engulfs you whole.

The warmth and wetness of his eager mouth lapping up every drop you spilled for him between your folds, has your back arching to the ceiling and your hands clawing at the floor for leverage. He makes it his job to drink up all of your arousal before plunging his tongue into you as far as it goes, the pulsations around it making him growl against you.

His metal arm clamps over your writhing hips to keep them still, his hand pressing into your abdomen perfectly, while his other hand grabs onto one of yours and guides it to his hair. Instantly following his guidance, both your hands curl into his brown locks and pull, subsequently making Bucky go rogue on his feasting.

And after all the foreplay, after all that tension, it doesn’t take long for your spine to tighten, your legs to tremble and your fingers to start feeling numb. The sound alone of the man panting and licking and sucking and groaning between your thighs is enough to hurl you so close to the edge, you are sure your sanity will tumble along with your climax.

All it takes is one thick finger pressing into you and curling into your spot and you tighten around him while pleasure explodes through every limb, your head airing out. The hoarse cry that falls from your lips and the attempt of capturing his head between your legs permanently have Bucky going into overdrive to haul you through your orgasm, every twitch of your body to his touches being echoed by a twitch in his jeans.

Bucky is painfully hard by the time you’re nothing but soft breaths of satisfaction. Devouring every piece of evidence of your orgasm, he strokes your body soothingly as you come down.

“Turn over, sweetheart.” He orders and tugs at your hips until you roll over onto your stomach. His greedy tug at your hips and kneading at your ass have you press into him wantonly. The warmth of his body crawls over you and his breath fans over the back of your neck where he leaves a gentle kiss, “You taste fucking delightful.”

You swallow hard at the praise and flinch when his warm hand cups your entire pussy, running fingers through you to rile you up again. Lazy drags of his lips over your shoulders and back of your neck have you shudder with need.

“Bucky…”

“Your warm little cunt has been crying for me…” Bucky grumbles against your skin, his fingers teasing and teasing and teasing, “For me to give you a good pounding. Set you straight. Fuck you stupid.”

You let out an agreeing whine, your pride long forgotten after your first orgasm, and you’d melt at the quiet sound of his dark chuckle if your body didn’t spring to full attention at the sound of his pants coming undone. It’s purely instinct that drives your ass up into his crotch and it instantly earns you a harsh snap of his palm against your ass cheek, making you hiss and press your brow to the cold floor in obedience.

His cold metal hand presses between your bare shoulder blades and presses you into the ground, grinding his hips against you roughly to show you exactly who is in charge. The pressure makes you huff and you reach back with one of your hands for him, only for him to straighten up slightly and pin your wrist to your back.

You want to protest, whimper at least to let him know how badly you need him, but every thought leaves your brain when you feel the silk length of him glide through your folds, pressing into your clit, before gliding back again.

“Oh God…” It’s barely a whisper, but Bucky hears it alright. He is narrowed in on every tiny, little response your body has to him.

So when you go still in an attempt not to test him again, he smirks and breaches your entrance slowly, the slow stretch of you around the throbbing head of him almost making him buckle over and crush you under him. And to make it even worse, you let out the filthiest moan he thinks he’s ever heard.

Retreating slowly and pushing back in another extra inch has you panting from underneath him. Out. And in a bit further. Out. And in. Out….

And Bucky glides home in one large stroke – so far, so deep that he curls into you to groan into your ear. Chest attached to your back as he barely holds himself up, he ruts his hips into you, nudging into your spot over and over and over until your vision starts to spin.

His wet pants in your ear, together with the sound of your own whimpers and the sound of him striking into you so hard, you can’t describe the feeling. You can’t possibly describe the combination of frustration and relief of finally having him inside of you. Like smouldering fire – so hot, so intense, so slow yet so rough.

It’s dirty, the way he has you.

Bucky’s metal hand plants back into the floor beside your head as his other hand snakes under you to your clit, two of his finger strumming over the throbbing bud as the pace of his thrusts increases. Harsh, shallow and fast, each of his strokes hit their target and make your body tingle and tremble underneath him.

You’re close. So close. His fingers grinding over your clit make you gasp for air, a pressure between your hips growing that you fear might kill you. Or worse, make you addicted to Bucky. Make you his.

Neither of you can utter a word. Both of you swimming in pleasure and never wanting this to end. Bucky might go insane with the grip you have on his cock, the breathy sounds that leave your tempting lips, the satisfaction that he made you obey in the end.

“I’m… I’m-” You can’t get the words out, but Bucky already knows and gently bites your ear lobe.

“I know, I know…” He murmurs, his voice nothing but deep gravel, “Just a second longer. Need to feel you a second longer.”

He’s breathless and you can’t help but feel pride swell in your chest at the sheer desperation lining his lovely, warm voice. And you agree, you want to feel him more, feel him longer, feel him deeper. So you clench around him and curl your fingers against the floor.

His thrusts become sloppy and wild, wilder than before. His breathing more uncontrolled and heavier, shallow too. You’re trying everything in your power not to come, but something shifts in the both of you and you feel his permission. Feel it in the way his teeth sink into your shoulder and his fingers press deep circles into your clit.

And with one particularly hard thrust, you get flung off the edge. Your orgasm crashes into you like a tsunami and Bucky seems to fuck you into the floor even harder, the grunts at the feeling of your pussy clenching like a tight fist becoming a dull roar in your bliss.

A few lengthy thrusts have Bucky spilling himself inside of you and you sigh softly at the feeling of warmth, shockwaves whacking your body beneath him as your orgasm continues its relentless attack on your body.

When Bucky slowly pulls out after coming down form his own high, you’re nothing but jelly on his floor, the coolness of the surface sizzling against your flushed skin. The aftermath of the dirty and rough fuck you just had with Bucky makes your body tingle, your core aching from it’s emptiness.

You don’t know what Bucky is doing as he gets up, you’re far too occupied scrambling your brain back in order. But then, you feel two warm palms massage into your ass, kneading and spreading your cheeks apart, pulling your hips up slightly.

“Talk to me.” He coos, his voice teasing and mocking as you feel his stare on your abused pussy, the feeling of his warm spent seeping down your thighs. He needs to hear your voice.

“Hmm…” You can only hum, pleasure still weakening your muscles.

“You look like a fuckin’ meal right now, you know that?” He grumbles, mostly to himself it seems, and you barely manage to move you head and take a peek behind you where Bucky is on his knees with indeed his eyes back on your tingling heat. You smirk lazily and close your eyes again, a long sigh leaving your lips.

“Have at it, Buck.” You tease back with a hum, expecting a laugh from the usually stoic man. What you don’t expect, is what he does next. But while your body tenses up at first, the deep swirl of his warm tongue cleaning you up has you back to melting into his floor.

At this rate, you’ll let him tattoo his name on you.

Joke’s on Bucky though, he already has a design of your name all thought out.

[theworldisquietheretooquiet]

Children of Hurin version!

Inspired by @symphonyofsilence

Art credits

Túrin - @morkeerie

Nienor - @novemberthecatadmirer

Beleg - @mandhos

Finduilas - @elfinfen

Orodreth - @elyksina

Gwindor - @noldorinpainter

Húrin - @silmaspens

Morwen - @arlenianchronicles

Aerin - @thelien-art

Glaurung - https://www.deviantart.com/rirth/gallery

[napping-sapphic]

Love is so freaky and messed up to the point that sometimes i do wish and hope SO badly that no one ever has to suffer being in love with me specifically because it honestly sounds absolutely unbearable