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mikkomacko · 10 months

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Jersey Leeds: Little Dev

Summary: Part of the Jersey Leeds storyline; reader takes baby Jersey to her dads first game of the new season

Warnings: none

“Neeks you don’t have to do that.”

He doesn’t even give you a second glance as he continues to twist the Allen wrench, shaking his head softly. His hair hangs over his forehead, concealing most of his gaze but under the tips of the dark strands you can see his dimples sink into his cheeks.

“Been sitting over here too long,” he calls back “need to get it out of the way. And tire myself out for my nap.”

Accepting his answer, you turn back to the counter to finish Nico’s pregame snack. The new house in Jersey was slowly coming together, slower than either of you expected but life’s sort of been like that lately. The playoff birth of Jersey and then the team’s quick exit in Carolina, followed by a flight to Switzerland with a newborn was hectic. You made it work though, at least while Nico was competing at worlds but both of you were almost thankful for the loss.

Being parents was hard. Being parents while moving, hockey-ing, and not sleeping was even harder. Luckily the summer calmed down and Nico had more time with you and Jersey, showing her around Bern and introducing her to her Swiss family. He had a lot of things to be proud of that month, but none of it sparkled in his eyes like sharing his life with his daughter did.

You think of that look on his face as Jersey begins to fuss from her play mat, the borderline cries already making your temple throb. Plating Nico’s two peanut butter and banana sandwiches, you dust your hands off on your pants before moving into the living room.

Nico is still sitting on the living room floor, legs splayed out in front of him as he attaches the final leg to the new coffee table, but his eyes are watching Jersey intently. Her little arms and legs wiggle, kicking and reaching upwards as she softly cries.

“I could’ve got her babe,” Nico says as you walk over, his fingers wrapping around the leg he just attached and wiggling it. “She’s just right there.”

Satisfied with his work, Nico flips the table over so it’s standing over his lap. Jersey is still fussing, angry little hiccups as she waves her fists in the air and you can’t help but laugh quietly as you bend down to scoop her up.

“It’s ok,” you reply, dabbing the sleeves of your sweater over her wet cheeks. Big brown eyes peer up at you, framed by the same impossibly thick, dark eyelashes Nico has. “I was done anyway.”

Testing his handiwork again, Nico presses his palms into the top of the table and lays all his weight on it as he gets up. You hold your breath, waiting for the screws and legs to give out and your husband to go tumbling to the living room floor.

But the table is solid and sturdy. Nico smirks proudly, rapping his knuckles on the wood before turning to you. “1 down,” he sighs “a lot more to go.” You shake your head as he eyes the rest of the boxed furniture scattered around the room.

“Do it later, you need to eat.”

Nico’s hands find your hips, holding you gently as he buts his head into yours to look down at his daughter. “Let me see my baby.” He requests instead, and the sound of his voice has Jersey kicking her legs in excitement. Her tiny mouth stretches into a toothless smile, pink tongue flopping out against her chin.

Laughing, Nico sticks his tongue out just the same, right hand coming up to tickle at her cheeks. You give them their moment, your heart warming at the weird but affectionate encounter. You’re unsure of how it came about, how Jersey picked up the habit but one day you had come home from a girls day with Nico’s family to find them sticking their tongues out at each other for entertainment. It’s since become their thing and Nico will take any chance he can get to see Jersey do it.

Nico pecks a kiss to her forehead before straightening out, pressing a similar kiss to your forehead as well.

“All right, snack time for my babies.” You instruct, pressing your palm into Nico’s stomach to nudge him towards the kitchen. He follows compliantly, moving into the kitchen and digging through the cabinets for something. You fetch a bottle out of the fridge, popping it into the warmer as Nico finds the container of honey he was looking for.

Smiling, he holds it out towards you.

“What?” You laugh, adjusting Jersey on your hip.

His voice drips with sweetness when he asks, “Will you put it on my sandwich for me?” It’s an odd request considering your currently holding a baby and attempting to get her meal ready but Nico’s already reaching out for his daughter with his free hand so you obediently switch him.

“You’re being weird,” you comment, popping open the container as you peer up at your husband through your lashes. He’s mumbling sweet nothings under his breath, nose pressed into Jersey’s temple because he likes the smell of her baby wash.

If your words bothered him, it doesn’t show. “I like the way you do it.” He explains simply, turning to grab Jersey’s now warm bottle. Going back to work on his snack, you drizzle honey across the banana slices before putting them back together and quickly slicing each sandwich into two. Nico fishes out Jersey's bottle, not sparing you a glance as he plops down at the dining room table. Plate in hand, you watch him settle Jersey into the crook of his arm, her little body so small against his bicep and forearm.

He coaxes the nipple of the bottle into her mouth, waiting a moment for her to latch before shooting you an expectant look, eyebrow raised and unimpressed.

"My bad," you laugh, "I didn't realize I had two babies to feed."

Settling into the chair next to him, you set his plate in front of him. Which was apparently not the right thing to do because Nico sighs, still eyeballing you incredulously. You roll your eyes, annoyed but so utterly in love with the man in front of you that you can't help but smile as you pick up a half of a sandwich, lifting it to his awaiting mouth.

It makes you laugh, him munching on the snack with honey smeared on his lips, bobbing his head to entertain Jersey while she eats. She watches him with curious eyes, blinking sluggishly. By the time you've finished feeding Nico, she's finished most of her bottle and is sinking further into Nico's arm as sleep pulls her under. He slip the bottle from her, and you take that and the empty plate to the sink while Nico props her up on his shoulder to be burped.

"All right," you sigh after cleaning everything up, "nap time for you two." Nico smiles lazily as you lead him and Jersey down the hall with a tender hand on his lower back. Jersey has already begun to drool into his chest, and he's careful to lay her in the middle of your king size mattress.

You stay long enough to watch him crawl into bed and take the time to tuck him in under a throw blanket, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He attempts to lift Jersey onto his chest, wincing when she wakes up with an annoyed screech, but she's soon settling into the softness of his abdomen. Nico coaxes another kiss out of you, sleepy eyes all soft and warm as you leave him and Jersey to nap while you get everything together for dinner later tonight.

~~~~~

The Rock makes you emotional, not only because the last time you stepped foot in the arena you welcomed your baby girl into the world, but because of how much this night means to Nico.

Impatiently waiting for warm-ups to start, you adjust the crocheted ice skate slippers on Jersey’s feet, making sure her ankles are covered. Then you tug down the sleeves of her little jersey, smoothing a finger over the tiny C patch Nico had custom made for it. The sweater had been a gift from the organization, handed to Nico in a little bag before there first game of round two last season. He almost blubbered over the thing when he presented it to you at home, choking back tears as he babbled about the name daddy on it and his number and how it was just like that baby shirt he loves but better.

Knowing how much he loved the jersey, you’d elected to save it for her first game in person. One where he could actually see her in it. You can’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees you at the glass.

Jersey wiggles away when you adjust the headphones over her ears, making sure they’re not on too tightly but aren’t slipping off. You’d spent all summer working on them for her, acquiring cute little stickers to put her name on one side and a 13 on the other. But the real kicker had been getting the two little devil horns on top. It took a lot of different emails and calls, even some instagram messaging to find someone who could make them. And even though Nico laughed and teased you about it, you were glad with the outcome.

Jersey looked adorable and passionate, all things the captain’s daughter should be.

She’s kicking her feet at you in annoyance when the first horn goes off and the players start trickling onto the ice. Almost leaping out of your skin, you press up close to the glass, turning Jersey so her back is to your chest and she can look onto the ice.

Almost immediately her little legs start wiggling, big brown eyes watching red jerseys fly by and you laugh, believing that she’s trying to skate with them in her mind.

You know Nico has his warm up routine so you’re not expecting him to bang on the glass as soon as he does. Not that you need the little taps of his stick to know he’s there. Jersey recognizes him immediately, her hands reaching out as she coos excitedly.

Looking up from Jersey’s smiling face, you’re stunned by the look of utter joy on Nico’s face. His eyes crinkled, smile so wide you think it might fall off the sides of his face if it weren’t for dimples keeping it in place. He’s waving at Jersey, hitting his gloved knuckles to the glass.

You nudge Jersey closer, allowing her to press her own hands into Nico’s as she screeches excitedly. Out of the corner of your eye a phone slips into view, capturing the precious moment for you two. You make a mental note to ask the social media admin for the video later, turning a bit so the camera has a better view.

Nico looks up at you, that beautiful smile of his shining. “That’s my baby,” he shouts excitedly, voice muffled by the glass but loud enough to make you laugh. You nod in agreement, picking up Jersey’s arm so you can help her wave to him.

His gaze returns to her, waving once more before he sticks his tongue out. Like routine, Jersey does it back, giggling and bouncing in your arms at her daddy. You can hear him laugh, the sound so full of delight it makes your whole body flush with love.

They’re interaction draws in Jack and Bratter, both boys squishing Nico between them as they stop to say hi. You can’t make out what they’re saying to each other as they wave and tap at Jersey but Bratt motions to Jersey’s headphones before shooting you a thumbs up. You laugh, shrugging in thanks before he’s off to finish warm-ups. Dougie takes his place, shoving Jack back so he can lightly jump into the glass.

Jersey jumps in shock, staring at the large man in stunned silence for just a moment. You since, waiting for her to burst into tears and you can already see Nico about to scold his teammate. But then Jersey is laughing gleefully, those bubbly baby giggles making everyone breathe out a sigh of relief.

You linger a little longer, letting all the boys stop by the stay hi and admire they’re little captain. They’re all enamored with her, eyes going soft just as they did the moment they all met her in the hospital. She has always had this team in the palm of her hand, most of all her daddy who has spent all of warm-ups watching her. He chats with whoever filters in to see her, blushing and smiling when they tap him on the helmet with their sticks.

The time comes to head to your seats, even if Nico is trying to get you to stay by making faces and wiggling his fingers through the glass. You know he’ll never actually warm-up if you don’t leave first so you give him your best demanding wife look.

“Say bye to daddy,” you tell Jersey, making her wave one more time. Then you’re tucking her into your chest and holding your knuckles to the glass. Nico does the same, winking at you just once before he slowly skates backwards.

You blow him a kiss, laughing when he pretends to catch it and place it over his heart. Finally he joins the team to get some practice shots in, you moving away from the glass where you can still see him but not be a distraction.

For just a moment you admire him, let yourself adore him for all he is. A good person, a talented player, a strong leader, a brave role model, a loving husband, and the best father a child could ever have.

Jersey’s cry of annoyance drags you back into the moment, peering down to see her mouthing at your shoulder as tears well in her eyes. Her father's eyes.

"I know baby," you murmur, "let's go feed you. We'll see daddy again in a bit." You head back through the tunnel towards the family room so you can pick up the baby bag.

"He's gonna win you a game tonight." You promise Jersey, "and if he doesn't, he'll definitely play his heart out for you."

If there's one thing you could be certain about, it's that Nico will always give his all for his babygirl.

#nico hischier #nico hischer x reader #nhl #new jersey devils #nico hischier blurb #new Jersey devils fic #jack hughes #jesper bratt #dougie hamilton #timo meier

419 notes · View notes

snorky · 4 months

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hi, so idk if u still write for canucks nils hoglander, so if you don't im so sorry for bothering you. if you do, would you be able to write an imagine where nils is interested in one of the canucks employees, like social media or reporter and is trying to ask her out but fails multiple times before eventually with some help asking her out?

You're A Forbidden Delicacy, And I Won't Leave A Crumb

Hey y’all! And hello to the lovely requester! I still do write for Nils, so thank you for the request (which I really love and got carried away with). I really apologize to everyone for how long this has taken me, my life has been all over the place and I am still trying to get things sorted out, but I truly, from the bottom of my heart appreciate the patience you all have. This is a Nils Höglander fic, with a F!Reporter!Reader, which is a little longer than what my stories are normally. I hope you all enjoy this fic, and please remember to take care of yourself!

Word Count: 6.1k

Pairing: Nils Höglander x F!Reader

Warnings: Romantic tension, kissing? (Let me know if I need to add anything)

—

A knock was heard on the door to her office, where she was deep in her work preparing for tonight’s game, followed by the familiar voice of her colleague and friend.

“Hey lovely! Here are the spreadsheets and rundown of the stats from the last three games,” her friend said, setting a few papers on her desk.

She smiled back and felt a wave of relief. “Thank you,” she sighed. “I was wondering when the stats would come in from my favorite data analyst.”

“Oh, stop,” she chuckled. “You know how playoffs are.”

She nodded in agreement, noticing that the energy within the air, and more specifically, the arena, was more electrifying than ever.

Looking up from the documents, she saw one of the players walk by the door, giving her a smile and a friendly wave before walking off. She knew him, Nils Höglander, but she had only had small-talk and nothing more.

Her friend looked over her shoulder, a knowing smile appearing on her face. “Someone caught your eye?”

The blush on her face seemed to intensify, almost shamefully like a kid caught with candy. “No—” Taking a quick sip of her water, she hoped that the warmth on her face eased up.

“Alright, take it easy, go Canucks!” she cheered as she walked out of the office.

A smile made its way to her face as she turned back to her work. “Go Canucks!”

An hour or two passed by as she worked on reading the documents, preparing how she was going to announce the pregame reports, and making sure everything was finalized and set.

It was a fun, fast-paced job that kept her on her toes constantly, and she thrived in it, living in the rush and wanting more of the adrenaline. More rowdiness from the fans, more chants and cheers, and more passion from the city that was hungry for a cup.

“Hello?”

She drew her attention away from her laptop and towards her door, where she saw Quinn standing there, gear still on from the morning skate and practice.

“Hi Quinn, how can I help you?”

He scanned her desk, seemingly searching for something before his eyes landed on her coffee.

“What’s your go-to Tim’s order?” he asked.

She looked at him quizzically, wondering why he asked such a question out of the blue, but didn’t think too much about it. “Vanilla latte, why?”

“Nothin’” he shrugged, clearly more than nothing. “Have a nice day.” He walked away with a sly smile, making her more confused than nothing.

“You…too, Quinn,” she said, looking at her coffee with suspicion.

As she took a sip, it tasted the same still, maybe a little more room temperature, but nothing odd or wrong.

A few more hours passed, and before she knew it, the clock was counting down till puck drop. The arena already felt alive, the familiar blue and green decor that hung around her office reminding her.

She got up from her desk, making her way out of her office as her shoes tapped on the floor, echoing down the hall. Having all the important information and stats in her mind, she felt confident about how tonight’s game will go.

When she made it near the rink, she was greeted by a few other of her co-workers, as well as the media crew for the team, gear and equipment and smiles all set. The ice in the rink looked fresh and crisp, ready for a tough game.

“Ready for Game Six?” One of her co-workers asked.

She smiled and straightened up her posture, pride swelling within her. “Born ready. Go ‘Nucks.”

As the camera went live, everything else came naturally to her. The confidence, the excitement, and the adrenaline.

“Welcome back to Bridgestone Arena everyone, where tonight, the Canucks will face off again against the Nashville Predators in Game Six of the Stanley Cup Playoffs, hoping to eliminate the Predators, and advance to the second round.”

The arena started to fill up with fans, mainly fans of the Predators, but there were a few Canucks jerseys spread throughout.

Skaters headed out onto the ice, preparing to warm up as the arena cheered for each side, hoping that their team would win tonight’s game.

Adrenaline. Euphoria. Pride. So many emotions swelling inside of her, and she felt so alive and yet lost in a dream.

“As the Canucks hope to grab a win, the spotlight stands on the top players, with Boeser having four goals in this post-season, all within the past three games, and J.T. Miller with six points, pushing the Canucks forward in the playoffs,”

The statistics sounded impressive, and even on paper they looked unbelievable, but it was the Canucks, and she saw the potential long ago as they were developing.

One player especially caught her eye, but she would never admit to who, because it was mainly extremely unprofessional of her, and also because of the complications it could bring up.

And as if the devil cursed her thoughts, she met his eyes as the media crew was moved behind the bench, sharing a smile as he went and got a quick sip of his water before skating back out onto the ice.

“Hoping Höglander scores huh?”

She turned her head quickly to the voice her friend before turning away, hoping she didn’t see the blush that was dusted on her cheeks.

“Best hope is that every Canuck scores one,” she laughed, trying to push the topic somewhere else.

Her friend let out an exasperated sigh, “Oh gosh, and I’d be the one needing to calculate all the stats,”

As the warmups came to an end, a few of the players returned to the bench, Nils being one of them, and he gave her a quick smile and wave before refocusing on the game that his teammates were playing.

With quick plays and quick movements, the puck moved up and down the ice, from offense to defense, keeping everyone in the arena on their toes.

Fans roared with each close call, the atmosphere buzzing, static in the air, and before she knew it, the first intermission was starting.

The players poured into the tunnel, making their way back to the locker room after no goals from either team in the first period. Tensions still felt high, like a cord that could snap at any moment.

She waited out on the bench, fiddling with a pen and her notepad as her manager was trying to find one of the players to interview for a brief moment, hoping to get a word or two about the current game.

After a few minutes, she saw Brock walking out with her manager, a gentle expression on his face as usual.

The interview went smoothly as the rest of the night did, with one goal from the Canucks that led to a win as they advanced to the next round of the playoffs.

In the locker room afterwards, the place was rowdy, players and coaches celebrating their win with as much energy as they could. It set the stage for greatness, hope lingering in the air for a long playoff run.

Across the locker room from the doorway she stood under, her eyes met Nils, looking slightly disheveled, a mess even, but he still looked so, fulfilling. He smiled when he noticed her gaze, his eyes crinkling up.

And as the night eased in, the sky outside a crisp darkness, she walked to her car in the parking lot, her work bag slung over her shoulder as she was ready to go home, exhausted, but at ease.

A gentle smile was plastered on her face, gratitude for every little thing she worked so hard for to end up in the career field she was in, all the work paying off.

As she reached for the car door, she saw a figure walking towards her, at a rather quick pace, and she rushed to try and unlock the car.

The footsteps came closer, near stomping against the ground, and she felt panic.

“Hey! Wait, I need to talk to you!”

Turning her head quickly, her unease didn’t seem to dissipate despite the slightly familiar voice.

She unlocked her door frantically, got inside and locked it immediately, trying to recompose herself, still clutching her bag against her.

The man tapped on the window, causing her to lose the color in her face for a quick moment before realizing that it was Nils.

Letting out a breath, relief filled her, but she quickly started to scold him. “Nils, what the hell!”

“Sorry, sorry, I wanted to ask you a question,” he said sheepishly, voice muffled by the fact that he was outside.

She rolled down the window, a tight lipped smile on her face. “Yes?” Noticing how he seemed to fidget awkwardly, her expression slowly changed to concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he responded. “I was just wondering if you wanted to grab dinner with me sometime, I’d like to get to know you more,”

His face was a pinkish tint, illuminated by the interior light of her car. A warm blush started to envelope her face at his question, but she knew it felt wrong.

“Nils, I’m sorry but as much as I would like that, it would be unprofessional for the both of us, and we could lose our job.” Her tone remained professional, but there was a twinge of somberness within it.

A disappointed, but understanding smile appeared on his face. “I get it.” He was still sweet as ever, and she even felt a little guilty at her answer. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Alright, have a good night Nils, you did great tonight,” she smiled.

Smiling back, he gave her a nod of appreciation. “You did as well. Have a good night,”

He walked away from her car, looking back only once to notice that she kept her eyes on him, but pulled away when he saw.

She drove away, off into the night where the traffic died down, and where the Vancouver glow was as dreamy as it always was to her, an ageless magic.

Morning came, sunrise bright and early as she arrived back at the arena. There was no game planned for the day, only practice and training to prepare for the next game.

As she walked down the hall to her office, she noticed that her door was open, despite having locked it the night before. The only people who were also in the arena as early as her were the players, coaches, and athletic trainers.

Stepping into her office, she saw a cup of coffee placed on her desk, along with a sticky note beside it. It smelt familiar, and as she took a sip, she noticed that it was her order.

She read the sticky note, and it was a sweet message from Nils hoping that her day would go well, and a smile drawn at the end.

It was a sweet gesture, and she couldn’t stop herself from smiling at the note as she read it over again, somehow trying to dissect a deeper meaning.

“Oh, so you found it,” Quinn chuckled.

Startled by his sudden presence, she jumped, spilling a little bit of coffee on her sweater.

“Ow!” Yelping in slight pain, her face was hot in embarrassment. “Sorry, I’m okay,” she laughed nervously, attempting to somehow magically wipe the stain away.

“I should apologize,” he said, grabbing some tissues from her desk. “Nils is not going to be too happy with me for making you spill coffee on your clothes,”

Like clockwork, he walked by her office and saw the commotion, brow perked up in curiosity. “What about me?”

Turning her head over to look at him, she had a sheepish smile, still holding the note and coffee in her hands. “Hi, Nils.”

He noticed the stain on her clothes, and motioned to her to give him a minute as he ran off, leaving both Quinn and her confused.

Setting the tissues on the table, he muttered out an apology before running off after Nils down the hall.

Now, she was even more confused, unsure of everything that had happened. Putting everything down, she settled on just starting on her work, checking emails and the schedule for the day.

Minutes passed by, and her friend knocked on the door to her office, handing her the spreadsheets of the statistics.

“Good morning lovely, I got you your stats in case anyone was up for interviews today,” she said, still sweet as ever.

Giving her a light laugh, she shook her head. “Thanks, but no thanks. Spilled coffee on myself and I don’t think I’d like to be on camera today.” She pointed to her clothes.

“Awh, really? That’s terrible,” she sighed, sitting down in the chair in front of her desk. “If I had a spare shirt, I’d give it to you in a heartbeat.”

She put her hand over her heart, “Really? You’re always so sweet,”

Another knock came on her door, and they both looked up from her laptop and documents. Nils was standing here under the doorframe, holding a Canucks sweatshirt in his hands.

“Did I interrupt something?” His voice was barely above a whisper, careful and cautious.

She shook her head with a smile, motioning for him to come in. “Not at all,”

Her friend gave her a smirk and a knowing look. “I need to go get something from my office, see you near the rink,” she said, standing up and walking out of her office.

It was just him standing and her sitting in the office now, the hum of her speakers playing music softly, and time flowed like a river of honey.

The way he looked at her was gentle, warm, and she wanted him to keep looking at her like this forever. His slightly disheveled hair made him look even more raw, something in its purest form.

“I got you one of my sweatshirts,” he spoke softly, afraid to break the air that seemed so intoxicating. “So you don’t have to wear the one with the coffee stain.”

His eyes seemed to observe her every movement, trailing up her arm and to her face as she looked up at him.

She placed her hand on his forearm cautiously, afraid of him pulling away. “You didn’t have to Nils, I’m alright.”

Shaking his head, he wouldn’t take her words. “I insist,”

Her hand moved towards the sweatshirt hesitantly, eyes still looking at him, and stopping before actually reaching it.

“It’ll look better on you, and probably more comfortable.” His voice was quiet, his words easing from his lips.

Silently nodding, she accepted the sweatshirt from his hands as he kept his gaze on her. The air was hot and thick, like a jelly-dessert with extra sweet whipped cream dolloped on the top, a tart maraschino cherry reminding her of the consequences if she made a mistake.

She got up from her desk, walking over to the door of her office. “I’ll go change into this, you can stay a little longer.” Twisting the doorknob, she walked out, leaving Nils still standing there in her office, leaning against the desk.

When she came back from the bathroom, his Canucks sweatshirt on her loosely, holding her stained sweater, he was still there, just as she hoped, but yet, she felt the fear of being caught creeping up on her.

“Don’t you have practice?” she asked, voice careful.

He tilted his head quizzically, almost pondering her words delicately. “You know I have more than a few minutes to spare,” he said, walking over to her. “Most of the guys don’t come into the locker room until ten anyways.”

His hand trailed to the bottom hem of her sweatshirt, fiddling with the fabric between his fingers. Looking up at her, he searched for any sign of discomfort, and she stood there, looking back at him, blushed and flustered, wanting more of him.

“Don’t be so nervous, it’s just us in here,” he whispered. “This looks a lot better on you than it does on me, keep it.”

As he let go of the sweatshirt, she found herself wanting to feel his touch on it again, but when she looked up, he was already waving good-bye as he walked out of her office.

A sigh escaped her lips, unaware of the breath that she held. She walked back to her desk, flipping through the documents as she waited for time to pass.

None of it felt real. The past few moments, or even days, were slightly different and odd. Maybe it was the rush of the playoffs, skewing everything into a different perspective, or maybe, it was something else that she was too afraid to admit.

Her phone buzzed on her desk, causing her to be pulled away from her work.

We need you near the ice right now - Fav Data Analyst

No you don’t?

Yeah you’re right, but I miss you :( - Fav Data Analyst

Okay, be down in a bit

Smiling at the messages, she felt grateful for how tight-knit the crew seemed to be, feeling like a second family.

Shortly later, she was met with the smile and wave of her friend, calling her over to the bench. A few other members of the media and training crew were also at the bench, watching the practice unfold in front of them.

“So glad you’re here, it gets a little lonely,”

She looked at her in slight confusion, “With all these people around you?” She gestured.

“They’re not you,” her friend shrugged.

Laughing at her words, she noticed that it caught the attention of Nils on the ice, his eyes almost burning into her for a brief moment.

“You’re such a flirt, unnecessary.”

Her friend raised a brow at her, observing the sweatshirt that she was wearing. “I think that the only thing unnecessary is the fact that I’m one-hundred percent sure I’ve seen that sweatshirt somewhere,”

Rose tinted her cheeks as she felt slightly embarrassed, knowing that her friend knew exactly where she got the sweatshirt from.

A few minutes passed by, and she saw that Nils was skating back to the bench to grab a drink of his water. The way he looked at her while taking a sip could only be described as desire, eyeing her up like a kid looking at pastries from outside the glass.

His scruff seemed to fit him perfectly, rough and raw, and at the same time, gentle like himself. The playoffs definitely ignited something in him, and she found herself wanting to watch it all.

Before she could realize, practice was over, and the players were skating off of the ice one by one. Grabbing her bag, she walked back up to where her office was.

It was nearing lunch time, but she wanted to tidy up her office space a bit before heading out. She put the documents that her friend gave to her in a folder, placing it inside of her bag along with her laptop.

The cup of coffee from Nils was still on her desk, finished and empty, and so she threw it in the trash, but kept the handwritten note.

As she locked the door to her office, she turned around and bumped directly into Nils, crashing into him.

“Shoot! I’m so sorry—”

“You’re okay.”

His strong hands were placed on the sides of her arms, stabilizing her. Looking at him, he was slightly flushed, a bead of sweat or two lining his brow from the practice.

“Sorry, where are you headed?” he asked, hands quickly moving off of her when he noticed what he was doing. “Just wondering, I don’t mean to be weird or anything—”

“Don’t worry about it, Nils. I’m just headed to the Chipotle nearby for a quick lunch,” she said lightly, almost caught off guard by how less bold he seemed compared to earlier.

A bright smile appeared on his face, “Oh, really? Because I was just about to head over too,” he laughed, a sweet blush dusting his face.

“Awh, that’s neat.” Her response was less than what she wanted to say, but she wanted to keep it professional.

They both walked towards the exit of the arena together, silence shared between the both of them as they were greeted by the warm weather, unfamiliar for Vancouver.

The streets were busy as usual, the rush of traffic coming and going, but it didn’t bother her since she was walking, not driving. As much as she hated traffic, she couldn’t deny the fact that it looked mesmerizing from afar at night, the glow of the headlights mimicking the city.

When she arrived at the restaurant, it was jam packed with people, not surprising for the time of day, but it was something that she wasn’t expecting.

She felt an arm nudge her side, drawing her attention towards Nils.

“I’ll pay for our food, it’s on me,”

“You don’t have to—”

He shook his head in disagreement, motioning for her to get in the queue with him, to which she followed behind him as they waited in line.

Her eyes scanned the room nervously, hoping to not see her boss or any of her co-workers at the restaurant since she was out with Nils.

If she was caught, she could potentially lose her job, which meant everything to her, but more importantly, she would have to be away from those she grew closest to. Away from Vancouver, and away from Nils.

And as if on cue, he started speaking, only loud enough for the both of them to hear. “Management won’t fire us for having a friendly lunch together, we’re okay,”

She simply nodded in response, a tight-lipped smile that still had a hint of unease to it.

After they got their orders, they decided to go back into the arena to eat rather than at the restaurant, food in hand as they walked there. It was a quiet and peaceful walk, but the weather started to turn into a cloudy gray, rain threatening to fall.

Looking up at the sky, she could tell it was only going to get worse. “Weather doesn’t look too good,” she mumbled, hoping that her papers wouldn’t get ruined.

He hummed in response, also looking up at the sky. “We should hurry,”

“Oh, really?” Her tone was sarcastic as she laughed, which in turn caused him to laugh as well.

He had a mischievous look in his eyes, and she knew that he had something in mind. “I’ll race you to the lounge in the arena,”

Before she could speak, he was already sprinting in the direction of the arena, and she followed suit, wondering how she would even catch up.

While she was running after him, she saw Elias near the front, most likely waiting for his food to be delivered.

“Petey! I need you to do a quick favor for me please,” she blurted, slightly out of breath.

He looked at her in confusion, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “Yeah?”

“I need you to unlock the lounge door.”

Shrugging, he led the way to the elevator as they headed up to the floor that the lounge was on. He then unlocked the door, to which she thanked him plenty of times for as he walked back to get his own food.

Throwing herself onto one of the chairs that was in the lounge, she let out a sigh of relief, food still in the bag and unopened.

“How on earth did you get here before me—”

She turned her head to the door, seeing Nils there, panting, out of breath, hand holding onto the door frame. His hair was soaked, dripping onto his shirt, most likely from the rain that started to fall harder since she got inside.

“I went through the front entrance,” she said nonchalantly. “Why?”

A surprised look was scrawled on his face. “The front entrance wasn’t under construction?”

She shook her head to his question.

“Why did Petey tell me that it was?”

A laugh bubbled out from her throat, causing her to hunch over as he sat down across from her. “Petey—he—let me in and use the elevator and pass to get in the lounge with no hesitation,”

While she found the situation hilarious, he on the other hand, was embarrassed, face flushed red.

“You owe me lunch next, that was foul play.” He opened his bag and started eating his burrito bowl, sitting comfortably on the couch.

Her lunch was already in her hands, the warmth radiating from it nicely as she got cozy. “Nope.”

They both ate quietly in the lounge, the sound of the rain tapping on the windows gently as Vancouver became a grayish gloom, completely different from the warm, comforting glow of the lounge lights.

It felt eerily domestic, the quiet peace, the shared, comforting silence, too strange to even consider it something just in the workplace between Nils and her. It felt like something that she could get lost into so easily, something along the lines of a classic fairytale romance.

“What’cha staring at?”

His voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and a rose-tinted blush was dusted over her face as she averted her glance.

“Nothing, just lost in thought,” she shrugged, hoping to play it off.

Her food was nearly finished, only small bits and scraps left which she prodded with her fork as she was deciding on whether or not she should throw it away or take it home.

The phone in her pocket buzzed, causing her to get up and throw the food away before excusing herself, walking into the hall to pick up the call.

“Hello?”

The familiar voice of her friend could be heard through the phone. “Hey, where are you? I thought you would be in the office by now.”

“Oh, sorry. I got caught up with something. Do you need me there now?”

“More like caught up with someone,”

Even through the phone, she could tell that her friend was giving her a knowing look accompanied with a wink.

“But anyways, I don’t need you ASAP but just enjoy your lunch with that special someone. Get back to me when you can.”

She let out a sigh, having already been outside the lounge. “Will do, love you lots.”

Her friend reciprocated the departure as she hung up, sliding the phone back into her pocket as she made her way to her office.

Nils left the lounge shortly after she hung up the phone, but he heard the last part of her call, which set him on edge. He didn’t know much about her personal life, and he wasn’t even sure if he was overstepping some personal boundaries of hers.

As the days passed, tensions rose in the arena as the Canucks went against the Oilers. Everyone felt restless, unease, not being able to properly get comfortable. Even after each win, it still felt like it wasn’t enough.

She stared at her laptop screen, sifting through the goals scored and other notable statistics of each game, somehow searching for a way to win with full certainty. Her fingers tapped against the desk nervously, and it felt like every poster and memorabilia on the wall was a relic to pray to.

The sound of childish bickering could be heard outside of her office, and she leaned back to try and get a glance at who it was. “Come in? The door is open I think—”

Her door swung open, and there stood a flustered Nils and a giggly Quinn attempting to push him into the room, whispering some sort of encouragement.

“Is everything alright?” She turned her chair to face the door, slowly getting up.

His playoff beard was starting to grow more, giving him a more masculine look that made her slightly weak, but he still kept a soft gentleness that she always liked from him.

“If I score tonight, will you get dinner with me?” Nils’s voice was quiet and nervous, but Quinn still stood in the doorway, waiting for a response from her.

She gave him a smirk, and she felt a wave of boldness overcome her. “I know you’ll score anyways, but we have a deal,”

He smiled with a blush and waved her goodbye as he ushered Quinn and him out of her office.

Time didn’t seem to pass quick enough, and she found herself pacing back and forth from her office to the rink. She had already prepared her report, all the information and stats needed for the pre-game announcements.

Taking in a deep breath, she tried to remind herself that the game would go well, but the pre-game jitters still ran rampant inside of her.

At the end of the hall, she could see her friend waving her over, holding something in her hands. As she walked closer, she could see that it was two Canucks jerseys, unnumbered and unnamed.

“I didn’t know which one you’d want—well I did know, but I didn’t want any rumors to spread for professionalism’s sake—so I got you a jersey for the game tonight.” She smiled.

It made sense, but she didn’t know why she was allowed to wear a jersey tonight. “Management let you?” she said, confused.

“Yeah, odd, but I don’t mind it.” She placed the jersey in her hands, the athletic material brushing against her palms. “Hoping we snag a win tonight,”

She let out a sigh, anxious but hopeful. “Me too,”

A few minutes before puck drop, she stood near the glass beside the rink, the blue and green lights of the arena giving the place an eerie glow.

Her jersey was on, Canucks emblem proudly displayed on the front as she got ready to give the pre-game report.

“Welcome everyone to Rogers Arena where the Canucks are facing off tonight against the Edmonton Oilers, hoping to get a win in this series. Tonight, the focus and spotlight is shifted onto our players to watch, having performed greatly these past few games,”

The camera was then panned to the players practicing on the ice as she moved to the bench, standing behind the players beside the coaches and athletic crew.

And as the game started, the arena was tense. The sounds of the stick smacking on the ice could be heard, cheering, chanting, and puck calling all too familiar. The building was loud and the fans were riled up, hoping to not be let down.

Minutes passed by, and the puck was being moved up and down the ice, and just as it made it into the offensive zone for the Canucks, leading to a goal for Elias Petterson.

Fans cheered and shouted as the goal horn went off, banners flying and waving through the air as the players celebrated the first goal of the game.

She cheered from the bench as well, celebrating with her colleagues and friends, full of adrenaline and joy. Even though Nils hadn’t scored yet, she was still hopeful that he would, having seen a couple of close calls that bounced off of the post or barely stopped by the goalie.

As the first period came to an end, the players filed off into the locker room as the media crew and her gave a quick first intermission report.

She could feel her heart beating in her chest, the oh so familiar feeling of being high with the rush of energy, the way it felt so unreal despite experiencing it over and over again.

Before she knew it, the second period was starting, players in their position in the neutral zone waiting for the puck to hit the ice. Her eyes watched every player carefully, observing each number and and keeping note of who is where and when at every second.

When she saw Nils get onto the ice, time felt like it was solid as she held her breath.

He weaved through the other players, gaining possession of the puck before passing it back to Quinn.

As the goalie thought Quinn was going to shoot, he passed it back to Nils, who scored a wrist shot that went over the goalie and into the goal.

The horn went off as the fans started to cheer wildly, the players celebrating on the ice again with picturesque smiles and hugs while she was on the bench, face dusted with a blush as she tried her hardest to play it off as over-exerted cheering.

She could see the smirk on his face, knowing that the deal was already set, and she could also see how Quinn was pointing at Nils, most likely teasing him about the bet.

The game went on, slower than what she wanted, but by the end of it all, it was a two-nothing victory for the Canucks, leading to a happy team, and more specifically, a happy Nils. The locker room was amped, music blaring as she walked by, the sound of grown men trying their best to sing along, and a smile scrawled on her face.

She had already done the post-game report, albeit, a very rushed one with a flustered look on her face, but she tried her hardest to remain as professional as possible. Her bag was packed and all ready to head home, files and papers in folders, laptop in its case, and every muscle in her body felt ready to collapse.

The rain was rampant outside, splashing in puddles outside on the concrete, and she knew she had to either be quick, or deal with a soaked jersey, and the last option did not sound too pleasant.

Staring into the now empty parking lot, she allowed herself to take a few deep breaths in, feeling the cool air fill her lungs, and breathing out, with her muscles relaxing.

She could hear footsteps behind her, but like a second instinct, she knew exactly who it was.

“Nils,” she said quietly.

He paused before taking another step towards her, the air now seemingly filled with a static. “You’re going to catch a cold,”

“You as well.”

A small chuckle escaped his lips, followed by a sigh. “Let’s get to your car first, then we’ll talk,”

She led the way to her car, hair becoming more messy and soaked from the rain. When she looked back, she saw Nils following behind her, but he looked even more tempting with his unkempt hair.

Placing her bag in the car, she turned back to Nils, seeing him stand there waiting for her.

He looked at her, observing every detail of her with no shame. “That jersey looks beautiful on you, ya’know?”

“Oh, stop it, Nils,” she blushed. “When and where is the dinner I was promised?”

Pulling out his phone, he asked for her number, to which she gave him it. She had trust that he would actually follow through with his promise, and so she didn’t ask for him to check it again.

“I mean it, you look gorgeous and always have. Even right now.”

She looked up at him, admiring his features silently for a few while her fingers ghosted over the lapel of his suit.

“May I?” He asked, hand hovering over the small of her back.

As soon as she nodded, he pulled her into a tender kiss, lips pressed against hers. It felt like everything from the past few weeks all started to become worth it, the waiting, the stares and glances. All of it.

The rain continued to fall between them, cold against the warmth of their bodies, and she didn’t want to pull away any time soon.

Her eyes remained shut, but she knew he looked so handsome with his lips pressed to hers. His scruff was scratching against her face, but she knew that she wouldn’t ever mind it at all.

Butterflies were loose inside of her, fluttering wildly as if she waited for this moment for far too long.

His touch, his fingers against her chin was full of sparks, and his other hand on her back seemed to be the only thing grounding her to reality, reminding her that this moment was real, and forever in her memories.

When they both finally pulled away, breathing heavily, their lips were swollen and tender, smiles painted on their faces.

He had a sort of angelic glow to him, ethereally irresistible, and she pulled him in for a quick peck once more.

“Can’t get enough of me already?” He chuckled.

She shook her head as she opened her car door, sitting inside as she gave him a gentle smile. “Could never get enough of you.”

He took her hand in his palm, giving it a gentle kiss before he waved goodbye to her again. “Please, get home safe,”

“Will do, Nils. I’ll see you tomorrow,”

As she drove off with a dopey smile, she could still feel the warmth of him and each touch of his vividly, and she knew the glow of the lights in Vancouver would never be the same again.

#nhl #hockey #nhl hockey #nhl writing #nhl fic #hockey fic #hockey imagine #vancouver canucks fluff #vancouver canucks #nils hoglander fluff #nils hoglander #nils hoglander x reader #nils hoglander imagine #nils hoglander fic #nils höglander #nils höglander x reader

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novaknightwritings · 2 months

Text

Work work work training

So this week has been fun, we are hitting the start of August and the question of what my work hours are going to be this season have started back up again!

Yep, the last three days have been training for work and so is tomorrow so free time is starting to die down a little bit. And so we return to the question of "what will be my hours" once again. At this moment it is looking like work is going to try and give me Saturday and Sunday off, an idea thing so that I can go and LARP and you know, have a soical life, something that I had to destory many years ago due to the job. Thought like always it is hard to tell if this will in fact be a thing because they are still looking to hire another person to work pots and pans and if they can't find one they may move things around once again. However, I have been able to put in a time off request for at least the next big event that I would really like to go to, even if it is just to NPC and work the event. Thought there is going to have to be a bit of planning in how I would want to do this. As if the hours hold I would be getting out of work at 10pm at night and events tend to get up and running at around 9am to 10am if people are sleeping over. After talking to people and remembering the site location it seems like the best idea I could have is get out of work, crash hard and then wake up at a stupid o'clock in the morning to hopefully get there in a sane time to set up camp and help out. Thought like most things this is still very much an up in the air and lets see if real life tries to fuck me in anyway. Otherwise honestly there really hasn't been a lot happening over here, I went to Bingo with mom last week and that was nice to do thought like normal I was getting pretty bored because I forgot to bring my headset for the pregame time killer. Didn't win any cash but I don't really expect to when I go to those games. Work training and I guess the next big thing is if we get an water update because of drilling the new well and the fair coming into town some time next week. I know my boyfriend said that he wanted to go this year but going to have to see if work has me working? Boss was working in the schudule for next week but didn't have it up before we had to leave today. Hopefully it will be done tomorrow when the meeting is finished but there where also a lot of upper managment meeting that seemed to be happeing while we where in work meetings. I am guessing it mostly happened because the head of the department had just gotten back for her summer a day or two ago so things where just starting to get rolling again. You would think with having this happen year after year they have an idea of what they want to do but nope. But that is all that I have to ramble about right now, so have a good night random people.

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tk-writer · 5 years

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Hello yes if you have time, i would like to request 15. “Hi, I’ve been subtly at hinting that I want your attention all day and you haven’t noticed once; now I’m pissed.” Pregame MomoMatsu. ;w;

Momota sat on his front porch steps, fuming silently as Akamatsu bounced a basketball around the makeshift court in his parent’s driveway.

Two years. Two years in a row he’d made it to the semi-finals, only to be beaten out by some trailblazing newbie. A scrawny thing named Amami had charmed the judges with his sultry baritone voice and long eyelashes. Stupid. Momota was willing to bet money that he’d be the first to die in this season’s Danganronpa. At least Momota had a fighting chance, being 6’0” and the top point guard in the entire varsity basketball league.

Losing had put him a sour mood all day, and Akamatsu was only making it worse. She was really pissing him off, the way she kept following him around school and poking at his sides to make him jump. Didn’t she have anything better to do?

Even now, she demanded his attention. After school let out, she followed him home despite his protests. Normally he’d welcome her company, but today he wished she’d leave him alone. Even now she was getting on his nerves. She bounced the ball around aimlessly, making an attempt every once and a while to throw it in the basket and failing each time. She kept glancing over at him - (why was she looking at him like that?) - but he turned away before they could make eye contact.

He sighed, leaning his face into the palm of his hand.

Today was such a shit day.

“Hey.”

She called to him after hours of silence. He pretended that he didn’t hear.

“Hey, dickwad!”

He heard a whoosh of air and instinctively held up both hands, catching the ball that Akatmatsu had thrown directly at his head. He furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance.

“What the hell was that for?”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention all day. Why are you ignoring me?.”

Momota scoffed, his frown deepening.

“Shove off, princess. I’m not in the mood.”

There was a quick moment of silence, then the sound of angry footsteps headed in his direction. He lifted his head, finally giving her the time of day, and saw a very angry Akamatsu glaring down at him.

“No. Now I’m pissed.”

She moved in closer, placing one foot beside him. Admittedly, he was a little nervous. Akamatsu was a sprout compared to him, but when she set her sights on something… she was almost impossible to stop.

“... Get away from me...”

A dubious grin spread across her face. She stretched out her hands, which alerted Momota to what was coming next.

“Wait, no…! Don’t fucking touch me- EEHEEHEEHAHAHA! Noooooo!”

It was too late. Curling into himself did little as Akamatsu dug her long nails into his ribs. His worst spot and she knew it. All coherent thought went out the window; the only thing he could focus on were the maddening tickles. His skin twitched under her touch and his body seemed to moved of its own accord, twisting from side to side in attempt to shake her off. God, why did something as silly as tickling make him lose his mind so easily?

Although it weakened him, he still had the advantage of size. Once the initial shock factor wore off, he began to push back. A struggle ensued that ended with Akamatsu sprawled beneath him, giggling before he even had the chance to touch her.

“Ehehehe… hey…!”

He felt a rush of power and grinned like a madman, mentally preparing an attack of his own.

“You wanted my attention? Here it is.”

His tickles were much more sadistic in nature. He used one hand to pin both of her wrists above her head and the other to poke all over her waist. He started with random prods at her waistline, which elicited loud shrieks on their own. Then he skittered his nails in both underarms, which made her cries for mercy more urgent. To keep the element of surprise, he suddenly switched his focus and scrambled his fingers up and down one side from elbow to hip like he was climbing a ladder. His hand leapt from side to side, taking her aback every time he moved. Throughout all this, she cackled, scream, and kicked her legs furiously. Outmatched in strength, there wasn’t much else she could do.

He didn’t stop until she was red-faced and could barely form words. Her cheeks were flushed with pink warmth, and her smile… god, that smile. It was different from the evil grin she had when she was bullying Saihara in the hallways, or fighting Harukawa during passing time, or shoving Ouma into his locker...

It was genuine. And it was so, so lovely.

(Why was he so enchanted by it?)

“Bam… you’re dead.”

She held up her right hand in the shape of a gun and pressed it into his chest.

Ah, fuck. If he’d been competing… that would’ve been the end.

Momota scrambled to get to his feet. He brushed himself off, turning his back to her so she wouldn’t notice the blush forming on his own cheeks.

As he tried to shake the image of Akamatsu’s beaming face out of his mind, he thought to himself... maybe it was a good thing he hadn’t gotten in.

#ndrv3 #tickling #dribble drabble #except not really cuz its long af #lee!kaito #lee!kaede #ler!kaito #ler!kaede #pregame!momomatsu #momomatsu #pregame!kaimatsu #kaimatsu #kaemota #momoaka #i am SO SORRY this is SO long #i got carried away jhfkjsaf #these pregame requests are giving me life

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yanderepalace · 2 years

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I only saw one Shuichi post (from what I found, don’t know if it’s the tags messing up or just me being stupid) and knew I had to step in! The Ultimate Shuichi simp has joined the party!

Sorry for the dramatic opening, but could I request like crazy Shuichi and PG Shuichi with an oblivious s/o?

Basically the two of them are quite out of their mind, being basically the worst yandere to ever counter, with them being over the top with everything.

Yandere Shuichi and Pregame Shuuichi with an oblivious darling

warnings: stalking, manipulation, kinda s/a implication, drugging

notes: I forgot how much i love writing pg shuichi, hope you enjoy!

Pregame Shuichi

Oh he’s having a lot of fun with this one.

There is nothing more entertaining to Kagehara than doing things around you others would chastise him for.

and you are none the wiser.

Poor y/n

He would make it his goal to see how far he can push you until you realize what the situation really is.

Once he sees how oblivious you really are, he sees no point in just watching from the shadows anymore.

Something about how empty minded you can be about the world drives him mad. He just had to have you, and keep his unsuspecting darling all to himself.

Overtime, he’d slowly try to associate with you, wiggling his way into your friend group.

Much to the dismay of your other friends but you.. didn’t seem to mind as much, always happy to have a new friend!

Your friends obviously get concerned for you.

The way he stares at you, the unhinged things he says that you don’t seem to pick up on.

Don’t get me wrong, he treats you good! Maybe a little too good.

Your friends on the other hand.. not so much.

He doesn’t like to compete for your attention.

And they don’t like him either! He’s not just creepy, he’s just generally annoying and insufferable to be around.

Even when your not around all he talks about is you

or danganronpa..

Nobody ever sees one without the other, he’s like your shadow, even if you’re unaware he’s always looking over your shoulder.

He loves the fact that he can pull almost anything around you.

Stealing your things, more than friendly touching, snooping all around your life.

“Don’t worry y/n, I can throw that away for you.” He says as he stuffs your trash into his pocket.

Another one for the shrine!

He often tries to get you two alone but everytime he tries, you immediately decide to invite someone to come.

Which might be for the best..

Who knows what would go down if you two were alone.

Shuichi Saihara

He can get frustrated.

He keeps trying to hint at his feelings but you never seem to pick up on it.

He can be pretty shy, ESPECIALLY around you but that doesn’t mean he’s content with just being your friend forever.

Shuichi knows eventually he wants NEEDS to be closer to you.

But unfortunately for him, all his flirting and chivalry goes to waste.

Don’t get me wrong, part of him thinks it’s adorable but..

How else is he supposed to express his feelings.

He is very much the “Nice guy” stereotype around you.

Much like pregame, he feels the need to be around you all the time.

He’s be more of a stalker due to getting easily flustered and nervous around his darling.

He can be shy, but he desperately wants you to notice him, to acknowledge his feelings and efforts.

When he does munster up the courage to talk to you, he’s overly polite.

He’s the type to give you a lot of cheesy gifts like teddy bears or whatever you like.

Also lots of handwritten letters.

Every time he confesses, you just thank him and move on thinking it was just a compliment.

Running out of options, Shuichi sees only one way to get through to you, to show you how you two were meant to be.

That being drugging you and bringing you to his home.

Once you wake up, he slowly explains the situation.

There’s no way you can misinterpret this, right?

All you need is a little help and Shuichi is more than happy to give that to you <3

#yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere headcannons #anime x reader #yandere danganronpa #danganronpa #yandere danganronpa x reader #yandere boy #yandere pregame shuichi x reader #pregame shuichi #pregame shuichi x reader #yandere pregame shuichi #yandere shuichi x reader #yandere shuichi saihara #yandere shuichi saihara x reader #shuichi saihara x reader

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applesontheground · 2 years

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💕 I was wondering if I could please get A, C, D, N and Z for Vincent Sinclair? Thank-you!

of course! now we got all three wax brothers to the party! 🎉

(i just tied up another vincent request going up in a little bit, so take this as a pregame for that, hahaha!)

⚠️ NSFW BELOW THE CUT ⚠️

DIRTY HEADCANONS A-Z

Alone Time Vincent doesn’t really use other material when he’s jerking off. If anything, his fantasies and his own vivid imagination suit him just fine. Although, I’d say when he does this, it takes him a little longer than one may think/the average session. He really likes to embed in the thoughts and take his time with it. Also, if I had to pick a toy I could see him using...cock rings. Don’t ask why, because I don’t even think I know. Like some of my Vincent thoughts, it just feels right lol

Crying While I’d hc that he isn’t super into it, I think Vincent would admire a crier in the bedroom and that it doesn’t hurt anything when it comes to the mood. As for him, he’ll cry pretty easily if he’s being overstimulated. Like, only after a good three rounds of edging, though, and he’d be shaking all over and losing the usual iron grip on his volume control.

Dominance Vincent is a good 60-40 dom/sub in my head. He sticks to it just because he needs to have control in a lot else going on with his life, so it just feels natural to take the reigns (especially with a more submissive by nature partner). On the contrary, he doesn’t sub for anyone he isn’t established with, but when those walls come down he’s very locked into the other person and will do almost anything they want. This is just me being self indulgent, but I have another hc that he’s really into dry humping and that it’s his favorite shit to do both when he’s dominating and subbing. Either way just (literally) rubs him the right way. 🥁

Not Yet Orgasm denial, like crying, kind of fascinates Vincent. He doesn’t do much besides just deny pleasure, though, and doesn’t think to take it as far as do the same with any bodily needs. He’d start with it being up to his partner and their own self control, but if they can’t handle it he’d take it into his own hands. You start squirming too much, he’s straddling or pinning you. You try to touch yourself, he’s tying those hands down or holding them where he can see them. The struggling/verbal begging also stirs his gut in a funny way that riles him up faster than even he’s prepared to, clenching his muscles and needing to give it to them and to give it to them hard by the time he’s had his fill. ...That all being said, Vincent becomes a fucking mess when he’s on the other end of the edging. Unless you’re stronger than him, you’re gonna need some rope/cuffs/etc.

Zones Vincent is huge on touching/finding areas that rile his partner up for foreplay. He could feel a S/O up it all day when he’s infatuated with them. As for him, I’d say his big areas would be his inner thighs or his sides, places that’ll have him pent up after just moments of feeling another’s touch around them. Also: While his face is pretty sensitive, I’d say the same as I did with his brother’s wrists: Unless there’s a lot of foundation between him and the other person, and he feels absolutely secure with them, he’d rather you not.

#headcanons #slasher headcanons #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #notsfw #✏️#🕯️#you guys are really making me come around to him.....#these are fun because i get to show that i'm actually sorta particular about kink headcanons

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salami2 · 3 years

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hi! could i request some pregame kokichi x fem reader sex where he creampies her? thank you!! also i love all of your kokichi writing so much!! (⑉• •⑉)‥♡

A/N: Thank you so much! I’m not too good at Kokichi, but I tried my best. Enjoy lovely anon!

Warning(s): Smut, dom!Kokichi, sub!reader, rough sex, kissing, cream pie (obviously), a very sweet pregame Kokichi <3

- 18+! -

— pregame!Kokichi x fem!reader - Smut —

“Hah… ah- are you feeling good, honey?..”

You could feel his hot breath against your neck. Giving you goosebumps along your skin. The young man thrusted into you, making you gasp.

Don’t worry. Even though you can’t say anything, the look of pure pleasure on your face was enough to say.

It was late after class when you noticed the look Kokichi was giving you. He was finishing up some homework and asked you for help.

Ever since he could remember, he’s had the biggest crush on you. Sadly, everyone knew except you yourself. So when the teacher asked you to help him after class, you did so with no questions. While he tried to contain his cherry red blush.

And then, you noticed the growing tent in his tight, black pants.

It didn’t take long for things to escalate. And somehow find its way to a nearby love hotel…

Despite being so young and seemingly inexperienced, Kokichi Ouma was a fast and sensual lover.

At first slow, and then a beast in the sheets.

There was no way to explain how satisfying this shy boys cock was inside of your air- tight walls. The way he would pull out and ram back in.

He was small. But it was something about his movements that could pull any woman in closer…

His hands went to your chin, tilting it into a deep kiss.

“Why is he like this… He’s so different then the sweet boy I was helping with homework a while ago…”

Kokichi started going at a slow and gentle pace like he did at the beginning. It was clear he wanted to say something.

“S/O… I-I was thinking, is it alright if I.. came inside you? It’s a selfish request! But I’d like it a- a lot …”

You thought it was endearing how he asked such a question. Both of you were young, so it made sense that he would ask for your permission.

“Yes, of course, Kichi’. Do whatever you like with me…” the sound of your tired, content voice made him harder. You could feel it inside of you.

It was like magic; the speed that boy had after.. how many rounds? He made you feel like a dumb little slut.

The increased speed made you drool a little. Holding onto his shoulders like your life depended on it. You’d have to apologize for leaving nail marks in his skin.

“S’ready now.. I’m g-gonna-“

Just like that a heat filled up your sore cunt like a waterfall. Deep inside your sweet body like a tsunami of pleasure. You could see the white goodness leaking out, huffing and puffing.

“That’s… all. I finally… finished.” He exasperated, flopping down on the soft, red bed.

“I really loved that, Kichi,” you admitted. “You're so good.. let’s do this again sometime…”

@salami2

#danganronpa x reader #danganronpa #danganronpa smut #kokichi oma #kokichi smut #kokichi ouma #god damn im gonna be known as the writer that does kokichi smut #eh who cares

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wattpadscapcons · 3 years

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Oh, oh! Can I also request a headcanons of how Pregame!Shuichi is like with a crush?

Sis, idk how you keep thinking of all of this cute sh- but I honestly love it. Give me all of the cuteness, I'll try my best!

Pregame! Shuichi Crushing Headcanons

- The person he has a crush on was most likely being nice to him despite the reputation he has, ignoring rumors earns brownie points

- He stutters a lot more than usual when talking to his crush

- Tries to hide his face behind his hat like.....more than 80% of the time he's around his crush due to blush

- Tried asking them to take a picture with him several times but he keeps backing out of it

- Downloaded pictures they took with friends, which were posted on their social media accounts, he figured that wouldn't be weird since they were already public

- He's heartbroken if his crush starts dating someone else before he gets the courage to ask them out himself

- Not like he can really do anything about it besides for follow the guy around to make sure he isn't doing anything behind your back, and well, making sure that the proof that they are (if they are), gets to his crush without letting them know it was him that was following and taking pictures of their S/O cheating

- Compliments galore, usually his compliments are over small things but it's still sweet regardless

- Takes him a long time to even convey that he likes you, as he mentally has to prepare himself for the despair of rejection

"Y-Y/N I w-wanted to say t-that I really l-like you."

- May have taken pictures of them without your knowledge, calls it a hobby if you happen to find one of the pictures he took. That they just happened to be in the shot

- Wouldn't do anything weird with the pictures he took, well, what he would define as weird is different than everyone else though

- Never pushes his luck, if his crush tells him to leave them alone, he will, he just won't be happy about it

- Worries about his crush a lot

- Probably has several scenarios written up in his head about what kind of life he could live with his crush, would only tell them after they got together (if they were to)

- Kinda clingy if he knows he can get away with it

#shuichi kagehara #kagehara x reader #kagehara #shuichi x reader #shuichi headcanons #pregame #pregame drv3 #pregame shuichi #pregame shuichi imagine #pregame shuichi x reader #pregame shuuichi #danganronpav3 #danganronpa

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write-orflight · 3 years

Text

Light the Lamp: Chapter 1

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev - Next

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader (Friends to Lovers, College/Hockey AU

Rating: M

Words: 2.2K

Warnings: College kids being college kids, drinking, swearing, talk of sex(No smut yet but will be)

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Love and Hockey were kind of the same, everyone’s just rushing to score. So why couldn’t you?

A.N Summary bad but I literally couldn’t focus on writing anything else until I finished at least the first chapter of this. let me know what you think, Message/reply/inbox to be tagged.

Chapter 1: 1st Quarter

Hockey wasn’t the sport Bucky wanted to play originally. He wanted to play baseball like his old man but when Steve decided he wanted to take ice skating lessons, he made Bucky tag along so he wouldn’t be the only boy in the class. Soon, they found themselves recruited in the junior rec hockey team and had been playing together ever since. It wasn’t a surprise that when recruitment came around that school’s were trying to pick up both of them. People knew better than to separate Cap from the Winter Soldier. Steve’s nickname was easy to figure out. He had a natural authoritative nature that made him the Captain of almost every team he played on. You never knew why they called Bucky the Winter Soldier until you played against him. Bucky was like an assassin on the ice. While everyone was focused on Steve in Center, Bucky was on left wing scoring the goal before you knew what hit you. So both of them getting recruited to play for the Avengers at Wilmington University wasn’t surprising.

Meeting you was.

At first, it was a sort of form of hazing. When they were starting their Freshman year so was the Coach’s daughter. He had asked senior members of the team to ‘keep an eye on her’ and make sure she didn’t get herself into any trouble. The seniors’ thinking that was lame, were more than happy to pass the task off to the two eager freshmen trying to make a name for themselves. So that’s how it started, The two boys walking you to classes and home from the library late at night, much to your demise.

“I should’ve known my dad was going to do something like this.” You complained when you saw the two boys waiting outside your dorm the first week of classes. “Thanks for coming. But you can tell my dad that I’m not going to be the freak being escorted by hockey jocks everyday.”

“No can do, Doll.” Bucky says. “We leave you, we’re doing drills the rest of practice.”

“Doll? What’re you? A 40s newscaster?” You say, with an annoyed expression walking passed the boys who just followed suit behind you. “Ugh, this is such bullshit. He literally begged me to go to Wilmington and promised I’d be able to have a ‘normal college experience’. What about this is fucking normal?”

“I know it’s less than ideal but hey, we can make the best out of this.” Steve smiles. “I’m Steve, by the way.” He says extending a hand.

You shake it. You couldn’t blame them for your dad not trusting you. “Y/N. You?” You asked the other boy next to you.

“Bucky.” He provides.

“Bucky?” You question.

“Well, it’s James but my friends call me Bucky.”

“And that’s what we are? Friends?” You ask.

“Might as well be, since we’ll be seeing each other a lot this semester.”

And that’s how your semi-unconventional friendship started. Pretty soon, even though your dad had eased up on the 24-hour watch, per your mom's request, you still found yourself walking and getting coffee with the two in the mornings. Even, found yourself waiting in the rinks watching practices so you could hang out afterwards and that became your life for the next two years. Now the three of you we’re entering your Junior year of college. Steve was right back in his title role of Captain, Bucky was now first string Left Wing and you were… still watching from the bleachers. You didn’t mind though, you grew to love the sport due to it being your dad’s profession. Hell, you were on skates before you could even walk. But you never found yourself on the women’s team, Hockey wasn’t something you really wanted to do. You still supported the girls team though, which is why you found yourself watching their practices too.

“Hey, Y/N!” Carol said, skating to the end of the rink where you were sitting next to her girlfriend, Maria. A position you often found yourself in, entertaining player’s girlfriends while they practiced. Maria was cool though, at least you knew about the sport.

“Hey, Marvel.” You called her by her nickname. Thing about Hockey is everyone was called by their nicknames.

“You going to the Sigma Pi party later?” She asks.

“Uh, no one told me about it.” You say, awkwardly.

“I’m telling you now.” Carol says like it's obvious. “You never go out anymore and I refuse to let you become a cat lady before you turn 25. Come over ours at 7, we’ll pregame and head over at 9. What do you say?”

“Fine, I’ll come.” You say.

“Great!” Carol says, pumping a fist before signalling her girlfriend to come closer to the rink. You look away as they kiss. Couples made you uneasy, especially hockey couples. You wanted that more than anything, for your guy to skate up to the gate just to sneak a kiss from you. Not that dating anyone from the team was even an option with you dad coaching. The team saw you as a little sister and if anyone was caught even looking at you in any way, their ass was grass by either your dad or Bucky, who’d become protective of you over the years.

“Marvel, stop flirting with your girlfriend and GET BACK ON THE ICE!” You heard your dad scream.

“Sorry, Couch!” She called. “Sorry, baby i’ve gotta jet. Y/N, don’t forget. 7 o’clock!” She says before skating off.

“I won’t!” You call after her.

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

You can’t help but look at yourself in the mirror awkwardly at the tight Satin dress your roommate, Wanda practically forced you in. You were just going to wear a sweater and jeans, your regular wardrobe but Wanda insisted everyone had seen you in that and what they haven’t seen is you in a dress. Especially, with your new body, you had gotten over the summer working at a sports camp. Who knew running after kids would be such a great form of exercise?

Wanda also did your makeup, something you didn’t typically wear, giving you a natural glow eye, a layer of mascara, and sticky gloss that made your look ‘dewy’ as Wanda described it. You tried to keep your hair in the bun but Wanda insisted you keep your hair down. Saying it made you look hotter, you shrugged knowing you’d have to take her word for it.

The two of you made your way to Carol and Maria’s apartment. Carol swung the door open and looked at you in surprise. “Woah, Ice Baby, you clean up nice.”

“Don’t start, Marvel. And you know how I feel about being called that.” You hated the nickname but since you were the coach’s daughter and you stuck around the rink any chance you got, The seniors had started calling you Ice Baby your freshman year and the nickname unfortunately stuck long after they had gone.

“Right, sorry, I always forget.” Carol said moving out the way for the two of you to come in.

The four of you drink and play games until it’s time to head to the party. You’ve got a pretty strong buzz going as you enter the party and you regret the strappy heels Maria made you borrow before leaving. You’re sitting in the corner when someone comes to sit way too close to you. You look up to see Brock Rumlow, or Rum as the team liked to call him.

“I almost didn’t recognize you, Ice Baby. You look good.”

“My name is Y/N but thank you.” You say, annoyed.

He holds his hands up in mock surrender “I forgot you hate that nickname. Let me bring you a drink to make up for it. What you want.”

“Rum and coke, please.”

“Oh, so you like Rum?” He says, obvious double entendre hanging off his tongue.

“The drink? Yes.”

“You’ll like the man soon enough.” He winks, smirking at the flush that spreads across your cheeks.

The two of you spend the night like that. He brings you drinks and shamelessly flirts with you as you get drunker and drunker. The two of you even dance for a bit in the sea of grinding bodies. Soon you’re telling him a story and a hand drifts to your leg. You turn and he’s much closer to your face than you thought he was.

“Wanna get out of here?” He asks. You nod but before you can even stand, Bucky is there towering over Brock.

“You can leave, Brock. But I’m taking Y/N home.” He says.

Brock rolls his eyes. “Forgot you had a Winter Soldier guard dog. No worries, dude. I’m leaving anyway.” He says, before turning to you. “You’ve got my number, call me if you wanna hang this week.” He says, nodding to Bucky before walking away.

“Ugh, Bucky. What was that for?” You whine, drunkenly.

“You’re drunk. I’m taking you home.” Bucky says. “Come on, stand up.”

You shakingly get up and Buck is there immediately under your arm, his arm around your waist helping you walk out.

The cold breeze hits you as soon as you step foot out the party and take the long trek home.

“I think I drank too much.” You point out.

“You think, kid?” Bucky says. “You’re lucky, I was here meeting Sharon otherwise you would’ve been shit out of luck.”

“Brock would’ve taken me home.”

“Brock’s a lowlife. Don’t worry about him, I’ve got you.”

You sigh. “Sorry for ruining your night with your girlfriend.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call her when I make sure you get home so if you could pick up the pace.”

“My feet hurt.” You complain.

“Yea, I bet. God, when did you start wearing heels, Doll?”

“I wanted to look good tonight.” You sigh.

“You always look good.”

“Fine, I wanted to look hot.” You provide. “For once, I wanted to be the one guys paid attention to at parties.”

“You can be yourself for that, Y/N.” Bucky says. “You’re a catch.”

“If I was, someone would’ve fucked me by now.” You drunkenly admit. That makes Bucky double-take. “I mean, think about it? 3 years into my college career, I turn 21 in a couple months and still it's where no man’s gone before down there.”

“Y/N, are you saying you’re--”

“A virgin? Yea, Bucky catch up.” You groan at the pain in your feet. Bucky looks and takes sympathy on you.

“Here take off your shoes.” He says, toeing his off as well and sliding them over to you.

“You’re just going to walk barefoot?” You ask, putting on the shoes, holding your heels in your hand.

“Better than you walking barefoot.” He shrugs.

“Anyway, I decided over the summer that maybe I was putting too much thought into it. I mean almost everyone loses their virginity in high school and it's never good, no one ever says their first time was good. I just thought maybe I should just, you know, get it over with.” You slur. “Which is what I was trying to do until you chased my date away. God, you always do that, Bucky.”

“I’m not fighting with you while you’re drunk.” Bucky says, trying to get you to drop the subject but you persist.

“Every time I try to talk to a guy, you butt in--”

“Maybe I wouldn’t butt in if you picked the right guys for you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the guys I pick! You’re just a cockblock.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yea what about Charles? He asked me on a date freshman year and took it back not even an hour later. I had to beg Steve to tell me why and it turned out that you threatened him if he even thought about going out with me.”

“Y/N, you had just turned 18 and X was a 24 year old senior! I didn’t trust how he was just waiting. So yea, I told him to fuck off. And Rum is an asshole who can’t get a girl to sleep with him unless they’re shitfaced. So yea, I told him to fuck off.” Bucky exclaims as the two of you make it up the stairs to your apartment. “Y/N, you’ll find someone right for you and that right person will make your first time special. I just want you to find someone who’ll make you happy.”

“And I just want you to remember for next time that if you want to tell a girl who she can and can’t fuck, you have Sharon for that. Not me.” You said, taking off the shoes as you arrived at your front door.

“Y/N, wait--” You hear him say but you don’t care, you slam the door in his face regardless.

Who did Bucky think he was? Sure, he was your best friend but so was Steve and he’s not nearly as protective as Bucky was. You honestly couldn’t tell who was worse at this point, your dad or Bucky. You loved both of them but they had the fatal flaw of forgetting you weren’t a kid. You were a woman, a woman with needs. And one particular need you needed to get rid of.

So you picked up your phone and called Brock. Bucky couldn’t be right about everything.

Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink @riverofcrestmont @babymango-writes @astralsaf @gabi-socio @hereforalongtime512

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #captain america #tfatws

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justasparkwritings · 3 years

Text

Wet Dream

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Friends to Lovers, SMUT

Rating: NC17

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: Swearing, Legal Alcohol Consumption, Consensual Protected Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Handjob, Is there cum licking? Yes.

Summary: Your friendship with Taehyung is nearly ruined when you start having dreams about him ... filthy dreams.

Beta: the incomparable @sugasbabiie who truly inspires all my smut and encourages my newly unleashed filthy side.

Note: This piece is for the #thebtswritersclub fic exchange! This fic is dedicated to, written for the badass @illneverrecover. And if she hates it .... it’s trash okay? jk... kind of.

Banner by me (photos my own screenshots)

Taehyung’s lips had long ago disappeared into your own, tongue swirling your bud, drawing out deep seated moans and explicit sounds only to be hushed by his hand, reaching up from where it had situated itself, deep within your walls, to silence you. You licked his fingers clean before he used the palm to hold your mouth shut, your sinful sounds too much for anyone passing by. He was quick, once your noises had been stifled, quick to circle your bud, suckling and spelling his name with his tongue, too quick, before you couldn’t hold back, coming on his tongue, the hums of his ministrations echoing in your over sensitive and longing walls. He stood up, eyeing your blissed out state before speaking.

“If you don’t get up, you’re going to be late,”

“What?” You stared at him, late for what?

“If you don’t get up, you’re going to be late. Get up, Y/N, get up!”

You sit bolt upright, glancing around your bedroom for the voice you swore you’d just heard. Listening intently, you hear nothing but the sound of your alarm clock, blaring a little too loudly and still too close to your ear. You flip your phone over and glare; if you don’t get your ass out of bed and dressed, you’re going to miss the congratulatory drinks you’re being forced to attend.

A party, thrown in your favor, to celebrate your new job. You had told Jimin you didn’t want a party or any real reason to use your newly obtained health insurance. No alcohol poisoning, no stomach pumping, nothing. Jimin, having never once listened to a request about a party, clearly ignored you. instead, planning a ‘kick back’ at your favorite bar: Wet Dream, a horrible dive that prided itself on the reputation of having so many nooks and crannies perfect for hooking up, or at least giving you something to fantasize about in your R.E.M. state.

Tossing a leather jacket over your ensemble, you make quick time leaving your apartment and entering the bar. Thursday nights, the first unofficial night of the weekend at Wet Dream, is always Vodka Thursday. It’s the one day of the week that doesn’t rhyme and isn’t cutesy, but it’s the only day they could justify only serving the clear liquid and cocktails based on the libation.

The bar itself isn’t dark, a black soapstone countertop, with white wooden shelves, stools, a stunning combination of golden maple and black, curved metal work around the rounded seat, all come to life against neon signs and stripes of color. Jimin is great with lines and pigment; his bar just proves that perhaps, if he didn’t want to just tend and keep, he could find his footing in interiors.

It’s a hot night, everyone coming out to pregame the weekend, shoulders bumping, and drinks spilling. It’s your least favorite environment, but there’s only so much you can do when it’s the one and only night Taehyung isn’t free.

“You’re such a bitch,” Quinn laughs, handing you your first shot.

“I am not, nor have I ever been, a bitch. A fucking bitch, sure, but a plain bitch? Never,” You cheer and toss it back, the burn so good you don’t mind the instant need to cough and grimace.

“You’re so afraid of seeing him that you picked the one night he isn’t free,”

“I picked the bar he likes, though. If I was a real bitch, I’d pick a date he could come and a bar he doesn’t like, or vice versa.”

“Fair, but you still are avoiding him.”

You roll your eyes. How many fucking times can you have this conversation? “He isn’t interested!”

“That’s bullshit!”

“How would you know? What’s one situation where Taehyung has said that he wants anything with me besides friendship?” You question.

“Loose lips sink ships,” Is her response.

You scoff, rolling your eyes in indignation. “I had the dream, again.”

“Again?”

Your glass clatters on the bar. “Again,”

“What is that, the third time this month?” Quinn questions.

“Something like that,”

“Did it go further?” She’s smirking, how deeply does she want your dream to push you over the edge? How far does she want REM Taehyung to push you? Further than you can imagine.

“No, it didn’t. But this time, I was taking a nap. Not even in full sleep mode!”

“Damn,” She pauses to sip her drink. “Dream Taehyung can get it.”

“Shut up. It’s fucked up, and I need to get over him.”

“He’s your best friend,” Namjoon argues. He’s sidled up next to you, shoulder nudging you, tipping his glass before sipping the liquid.

“You two are my best friends,”

Namjoon chuckles. “Tae’s your best friend, you pierced your ears the same. You can’t get rid of him or ignore him.”

“I’m just glad he isn’t coming tonight, that I fully do not have the energy for.” You are glad, relieved even, that you don’t have to worry about the butterflies in your stomach morphing into giant moths taking flight or the lump in your throat threatening to toss up your entire dinner (leftover Thai food bitch). If Taehyung were here, this night wouldn’t be about you and your success, but about your unending crush on your best friend. The same guy you, yes, have matching piercings with, and the same guy who, yes, held your hand when you got not one or two tattoos, but most of the ones that adorn your skin. The swallow beneath your clavicle proving the most painful, next to your homage to Sailor Moon on your thigh. Taehyung, for what it’s worth, helped design a few of your pieces, him being the true artist that he is.

“Shots!” Jimin yells, moving through the growing crowd of patrons, a tray of booze awaiting you.

“I’m not paying for these,” you tell him.

“First, it’s your party; of course you’re not. Second, it’s my bar,”

“Great, so all drinks are on you tonight?” Quinn winks, a blush erupting on Jimin’s cheeks.

“Within reason,” Jimin winks back, their recent triste into friends with benefits proving to be the stuff of real relationships.

Namjoon raises his shot glass. “To Y/N, a new job, better insurance, and more money. What an accomplishment.”

“To Y/N!” Jimin, Quinn, and a few other random people in the bar cheer. You cheer too, happy for your own success, before tossing back another shot of vodka.

“I hate you,” You yell. Jimin disappearing behind the bar pays your mini tantrum no mind.

“I know you don’t. When do you start again?”

“Woof, Monday,”

“Got your outfit picked out?” Namjoon questions.

“Fuck you, and no. haven’t started thinking about it,”

“You should; preparation leads to success,” Namjoon tells you. He’s nursing his own drink, some beer-vodka concoction Jimin had spent months perfecting just so that Namjoon would have to order it and drink it. He even named it after some deep-seeded secret between them that neither would spill.

“I will, Namjoon, don’t you worry. Somewhere between enjoying my last day off and recovering from my massive hangover, I’ll lay out my pantsuit,”

“Don’t forget your pussy bow,” It’s a comment that wouldn’t catch you so off guard if the person who said it hadn’t appeared like an apparition, voice low and gruff from somewhere to your left. You turn, eyes trying to find the voice, hoping it isn’t the man, the dream legend, the ultimate spank bank, who in dream world can make you cum almost instantaneously.

“Congratulations,” Taehyung smirks, quirking an eyebrow before taking a shot.

“Thanks, Tae,” Is all that comes out, a gentle squeak barely audible in the chaos in the bar.

“I like your earrings,” He says. this time, his smirk is gone, replaced instead with a wide grin. He turns his head towards you, where he’s got the same three piercings, adorned in the same three gems you’d bought each other last year for Christmas.

“Ha, samesies,” You giggle, desperately reaching for whatever is in the glass Jimin is handing you.

“I’m gonna make the rounds, but we’ll catch up?” Taehyung asks.

“Yeah, yeah, sounds good,” You nod. Taehyung places a kiss on your cheek before he disappears into the throngs of people.

“Fuck!” You yell.

“Aye,” Namjoon scolds.

“You’re so sexually frustrated, just go fuck him,” Quinn suggests.

“Yah, we can’t listen to any more of you guys’ whining. We get it, you’re horny for each other. Just fuck already,” Jimin says, turning his back to tend another customer. You turn to Quinn, then Namjoon, both avoiding your gaze.

“Tell me,” You request.

“No,” Namjoon says.

“You have to tell me,”

Quinn laughs. “No, we don’t,”

“You know?”

“Didn’t I already tell you that he wants you?” Quinn asks.

You stare at them, mouth agape, mind trying to process what it is they’ve just told you. “This is the special broach when Ross gets on the plane to China,”

“What?” Jimin asks.

“Friends,” Namjoon answers. “Ross bought Rachel this pin that looked like one her grandmother had, and when Rachel opened it, Chandler made a comment about how Ross always buys the woman he loves an extravagant gift. Carol got a ridiculous duck, Rachel a pin.”

“The point?” Quinn asks.

“That we just spilled the beans on Taehyung’s feelings,” Namjoon finishes his drink, glares at Jimin, and moves behind the bar to pour himself a glass of water.

“Oh, so we’re Chandler?”

“Yes, babe,” Jimin smiles and sets a glass of water in front of Quinn.

“I just didn’t think you were fucking serious. I mean, you three say a lot of shit, all the time,” You’re still not certain it isn’t the rush of booze in their bloodstreams, that this isn’t some sick twisted lie to get you to stop dreaming about Taehyung’s head buried between your thighs.

Quinn shakes her head. “Of course, we’re serious,”

“Well, snap my neck,” You mutter, sitting back and staring at the empty space in front of you. “You know, maybe my dream was trying to tell me something.”

“Like what?” Namjoon inquires.

“Like my friends are liars, and I should never divulge any secrets to them,”

“Stop whining; you want to fuck him, you’re already best friends. Stop messing around and just fucking do it already,” Jimin leans across the bar and to kiss Quinn quickly before he’s called to help another customer.

“That’s not how it works, I don’t just decide I want to fuck him and disappear into one of the cubbies in the hallway and do him here and now.” You argue.

“Why not?” Namjoon asks.

“Because that’s insane. You guys are fucking insane,”

“Maybe we’re just saying what you’re thinking,”

“Or maybe, you and Jimin are too far in love that you want to shove it down the rest of our throats,”

“Namjoon, are we shoving it down your throat?”

“That’s not what Namjoon wants shoved in his throat,” It’s a comment that flies out of your lips before you can stop it, and lucky for you, Namjoon just stares at you, then winks.

“Oh, believe me, she knows,” Is his response.

“Woof. I need air,” You stand up, pushing in your stool and heading for the back.

Your feet take you towards Jimin’s office, where you can slip past the door and into the night, fresh air mussed with cigarette smoke and somewhere, a faint brush of weed, and just breathe.

Had all your friends been right this entire time? It’s a thought you can’t shake, gnawing on it like you gnaw on your nails, biting them to the beds. Your feet, thankfully, don’t stick to the floor as you trudge back, back past the couples making out, the ones sharing whispers and hopes, the ones unsure where this will go, but hoping it lasts longer than tonight. You recognize the desperation and hope tied in their movements, the fleeting feeling of love, unrequited and passionate.

Stepping towards the door, your arm is grabbed by a strong hand, and you’re pulled swiftly into Jimin’s office.

“What the fuck?” You yell, lips quickly covered by a rough hand. Your eyes are wild, searching for the person who has yanked you in, adjusting to the abject darkness of the room.

“Calm down, Y/N, it’s me,” Taehyung’s chuckling, laughing at your fear.

“Damn it, Tae, why?”

He’s smiling, beaming that he pulled off his ‘surprise’. “I wanted to get you alone,”

“No one has used that phrase since Robin Thicke wrote it into a song, and Glee performed it, objectively better than he ever could. God bless and keep Emmy award winner, Darren Criss,” You ramble.

“Why are you being so-

“Bitchy?” You interject.

“I, yeah. Tonight’s about you, about your promotion,” Taehyung is still standing close, too close. His cologne wafts through your nose, pulling you in. He takes your hands in his, genially playing with your fingers, intertwining them, swinging your hands, thumb drawing circles against the back of your hand.

“Why are you here tonight?” You whisper. The lump in your throat that you had so hoped to avoid is back, larger than before.

“What do you mean?”

“You usually have a meeting, every Thursday,”

Taehyung flushes, “Why did you pick a Thursday for your party?”

“It was the only –

“No, it wasn’t,” He interrupts.

“Fine, I didn’t want you to come, okay? That’s why,”

“Why not?” Taehyung’s hurt and confused, but he doesn’t take his hands out of yours.

“Why are you here?”

“One question at a time”

“It’s my party,” You argue, “I get to know first. Why are you here?”

Taehyung moves his gaze, first to your intertwined fingers, then slowly up your arms, ghosting over your collarbones until they reach your eyes, flickering down to your lips, where they stay. He moves so slowly, calculatingly, tilting his head, his hands following the pattern set by his eyes. He rests his palms at the base of your neck, fingers reposing against your cheeks. He leans in, eyes fluttering shut, nose brushing against yours, lips meeting so softly it feels like a dream.

But it isn’t a dream because, in your dreams of Taehyung, you’ve never kissed him. You’ve never felt his hands cupping your face, cradling your head as his lips move with yours. In your dreams, he’s never delicately parted your lips with his tongue, or bit down on the plumpy flesh of your bottom lip. In your dreams, Taehyung has never pulled away and spoken to you.

“I’m here because I can’t be your friend anymore. I want more,need more,” Taehyung’s voice is low, a dull growl. His features are striking in the dimly lit office, the streetlights and neon signs the only light, casting fantastical shadows against his chiseled jaw and dazzling his midnight eyes.

“I didn’t want you here because it hurts.I can’t continue to be your best friend when I want so much more.”

“How much more?” Taehyung whispers.

“All of it, as much as you want to give me,”

“I need you to tell me,”

“How much do you want?” You ask.

“I want to be your boyfriend.”

“I want you to be my boyfriend,”

It’s all Taehyung needs to hear, all he needs to bring his lips to yours again, hands moving down your sides, resting firmly on your ass, using his leverage to pull you closer. Your hands start pushing his jacket off his shoulders, oscillating between tugging him closer and unbuttoning his jeans.

“Ugh, baby,” Taehyung moans, your hand grazing his already hard cock through his pants. You take another pass, slowly moving your hand up and down the outline of his dick. Contained in his pants, it’s impressive, and you’re dripping already. You hadn’t intended to soak your jeans, at least not this early, but going commando and having Taehyung growling under your touch is certainly doing the trick.

“Yeah?” You ask, hand daring to reach underneath the thin layer of his boxers, cupping him. He’s impossibly bigger in your hand than you imagined, all those filthy dreams, and not once in the dreams had you made it this far. In your dream you never got to hold his dick, swiping precum from the tip, bringing it to your lips.

“Baby,” Taehyung growls, eyes watching as you paint the liquid across your lips before swiping your tongue languidly against your bottom lip. “Fuck,” Taehyung’s hips rut into nothing, another hearty moan leaving his lips.

“Mm,” You moan, a wink dropping as you bring your top lip into your mouth, teeth dragging slowly against the flesh. Who are you? Is the only question your mind is asking. Well, who are you, and who do you think you are? This is the you, you used to be around Taehyung. Sexy, confident, self-assured, taking no shit, and going for what you want. It’s the ease you used to have, before you started falling for him, before the crush, before the dreams. This is you, and fuck, you’ve missed her.

Taehyung intertwines his hand with your hair, tilting your head to look up at him. He kisses you again, savoring his taste on you, and uses his free hand to unbutton your jeans.

“Are you going commando?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he taps your hips to lift and guide your pants down your legs. Your shoes, still on, hold them up, and Taehyung gapes at you. Fully exposed, Taehyung can take you in, first with his eyes, then with his fingers, and finally, with his lips and tongue.

You watch, eyelids slowly closing as your wildest fantasy consumes you.

He’s more skillful than Dream Taehyung. He takes his time, tracing each lip, suckling your bud, teasing you with his tongue slowly slipping into your entrance, slowly pulling out your liquids before he settles, lips and tongue applying pressure to your throbbing bud.

“Fuck,” Your voice is more of a shout than a moan, getting drowned out underneath the loud beat of whatever house music Jimin has playing.

“Now, now,” Taehyung stops, fingers tracing your lips, toying with your entrance. He dips one finger in, his own moan eclipsing your own, before pulling out and slipping two fingers in. With both coated in your wetness, Taehyung brings them to your lips, and you freeze.

“Are you okay? We can sto-

Taehyung can’t finish his thought, your hot mouth sucking on his fingers proving to be a full distraction. He groans as your tongue wraps around his digits, tongue splitting them before moving up and down again.

“Baby, I know I didn’t finish but I -

“Condom, now,” You order.

Taehyung looks around before rifling through Jimin’s jacket. In the pocket, he finds not one, but two condoms.

“For later?” He winks.

“I have condoms at my place,”

“Me too,” Taehyung doesn’t waste time opening the foil and rolling it on himself. “Scoot,”

You move your hips to the edge of the desk, ass cheeks hanging off, hands resting on a stack of papers behind you. “We have to be quick, Jimin’s going to come looking for us,”

“That’s fine, I can take my time with you when we get home,” Taehyung steps closer to you, and your hands reach in front of you to stroke him. “Fuck, you ready?”

“Yeah, fuck, yes,”

Taehyung nods, guiding the head of his cock past your entrance. Your eyes start closing, and Taehyung stills. “Watch baby, watch.”

“Tae,”

“You have to, watch us, together,” He requests. You nod, the whimper leaving your lips as he continues to push into you becoming overpowering.

“Taehyung,” You moan, hands reaching up, tangling in his hair, pulling him to you. your open kisses muffle the sounds leaving both your lips, but don’t hold a candle to the sickening sounds of Taehyung pumping in and out of you, speed quickening as the fear of getting caught increases.

“Fuck, so tight,” He growls, nibbling your earlobe, tongue tracing each of the studs in your twin piercings.

“So big, fuck, harder,” Your hands need to be on his flesh, your lips craving the saltiness of his sweat. Leaning forward, you take his darkened nipple between your teeth, sucking and teasing as he continues to plow into you.

“Wanna make you cum,” He mumbles, his intention clear, made even more difficult by your continued attack on his chest. You’re kissing to bruise, to leave marks, to finally claim him as not only your best friend, but your lover. “Baby, can I?”

“Don’t have time, Tae, don’t have time,” You say. “Need you to cum on me,”

“On you?” His hips stutter, coming to a near halt.

“On me, on my stomach, wanna watch you come undone,” You explain, panting as you try not to lose the heat of the moment.

“Fuck,” He whispers, pulling you of you and tossing the condom in the trash. You sit back on your elbows, a makeshift kickstand supporting your head and neck, feet not quite reaching the floor. You pull the fabric of your top up, going braless, much like going commando, is proving to be the best decision you made tonight.

Taehyung pants above you, and you reach a hand between your folds, teasing your swollen clit, seeking the release Taehyung so desperately wants to give you. He watches, eyes focused on your body, hips jerking forward, trying without success to find more contact, to be wrapped in your succulent walls again.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m gonna cum,” Taehyung gives one warning call before he unleashes his load on you, hot ropes of cum coating your stomach, pooling in your belly button, sliding down your sides to the desk below.

“RIP me,” You whisper, finger wiping a strip of cum off your skin. You bring it to your lips, making a full show of licking it off your fingers. Taehyung, still recovering from his high, doesn’t think twice before his tongue is on your skin, licking his own cum from your body, actively slurping his juices from your belly button. You gasp, staring at the top of his head, waiting expectantly for his eyes to meet yours. When they do, you’re met with a Cheshire grin, before his lips are once again, demanding yours. Tasting him on him is quite possibly the sexiest thing you’ve encountered, and fuck if you don’t want to explore this filth with him in the confines of your bedroom.

A knock on the door, and another, soon gathering speed and volume, pulls him away from you.

“Are you fucking on my desk?” Jimin yells.

“This isn’t what we had in mind when we said go for it!” Quinn echoes.

“You’re just jealous because we got here first,” Taehyung calls. His damp forehead rests against yours, labored breathing bringing forth giggles.

“Like we didn’t fuck in there first!” Jimin cackles, the audacity of the statement making both laugh a little too hard.

“Good, then you can clean up!” Taehyung shouts, his statement deafening their laughter.

“This isn’t a dream, right?” You question, hands reaching for Taehyung, pulling him back to the space between your legs.

He shakes his head. “No, baby, it isn’t,”

“Thank god, I cannot have another fucking wet dream about you.”

“What?” Taehyung pulls away, his hair is curling at the ends where sweat meets the black locks.

“Yeah, I have this reoccurring wet dream about you, it’s dumb, but it’s haunted me for months,” You explain, pulling your pants back up.

“Can I be honest?”

“I mean you just came on my stomach and then licked it up, so yeah, be honest,”

“I’ve been having wet dreams about you for far longer than I want to admit,” Taehyung smirks. “Filthy, nasty, dreams,”

“Is that why you check me out?”

He flushes. “I don’t always.”

“No, but you have. Is it all for your spank bank?” You’re laughing, you too have saved pictures of him for your own usage later.

“Maybe,”

“Huh,”

“Tell me this,” Taehyung starts, kissing your forehead, then your cheeks. “Is real life better than your dreams?”

“Snap my neck already, would you?” You groan.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, Taehyung, you in real life is far more satisfying than any wet dream I could ever have about you,” You answer. “Now, will you take me home so I can experience more of you?”

Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice, pulling you off Jimin’s desk, reaching for a paper towel to wipe off your lingering juices before shrugging. He knows full well Jimin will deep clean the entire space. Taehyung takes your hand, kissing the back of it, and together, fingers intertwined, dreams momentarily satisfied, you leave Wet Dream. Hopefully, if you play your cards right, tonight you’ll experience the real thing over again.

#thebtswritersclub #ficexchange #kim taehyung #bangtanuniversity #bangtanarmynet #kth #kim taehyung x you #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x oc #wet dream #friends to lovers #Kim Taehyung x you #Taehyung x you #Taehyung x reader #ksmutclub

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hockeylvr59 · 3 years

Text

Collide Part 2 || Sidney Crosby

Summary: Life as a single foster mom and a pediatrician didn’t leave much time for dating. But when Dr. Erin Lancaster becomes the pediatrician for Pittsburgh Penguins Defenseman Brian Dumoulin's baby boy, her association and quick friendship with his wife Kayla turns her crazy but quiet life upside down.

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: Apparently my brain is just on a Sid kick lately. First a blurb update, now this one. Let me know what you think.

Warnings: alcohol consumption Word Count: 2,001

~~~~~

The weeks leading up to the holiday season were usually some of the best as a foster mom. The kids that I called my own, even temporarily, generally didn’t have a great experience with family holidays in the past and it was always exciting to teach them the magic of the season. The joy of watching the Macy’s parade and then football before having a big meal, going looking at Christmas lights, and everything else that filled the days between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

This year though, this year was tough. A few weeks ago, just days after my trip to the hospital, the seven year old I was fostering was moved to another placement. More biological siblings had popped up in the system and taking them would have placed me over my permitted limit. So instead, the rambunctious boy I was finally starting to make strides with was moved so that he could be with siblings he had never met, all because of the preference of keeping siblings together. A week later, my five year old was transferred back into the care of his mother who had successfully completed a rehabilitation program. I wasn’t sure the woman could be trusted but the court had decided she was fit enough to regain custody and there was nothing I could do about it.

Finally, yesterday, my newborn had been deemed stable enough to be placed with a paternal grandmother now that he was completely off the drugs. I had done my limited job of making sure that he got elevated care and now he was in the placement I knew he’d end up in all along.

It was the weekend before Thanksgiving and for the first time in a long time I didn’t have any kids under my roof. Honestly, I couldn’t remember the last time I didn’t have any kids placed with me, it had been that long. Yesterday, it had been easy enough to ignore, I went into the office to catch up on paperwork, I picked up dry cleaning and went grocery shopping before drinking half a bottle of wine and falling into bed exhausted.

Today though, things were quiet and now that the world had stilled around me, my normally thick exterior cracked and I found myself sobbing steadily. I loved being a foster mom, I really did, but it was heartbreaking to know that these kids would never be mine for one reason or another. That while most days my house was full of laughter and as much love as these kids could manage, days like today would always be waiting at the end of it all.

While drowning my sorrows with a pint of ice cream I definitely didn’t need to be eating at 11am, my phone buzzed beside me with a message from Kayla Dumoulin. She had texted more than once over the past few weeks with worries such as whether Brayden’s cord was healing normally and whether she could cut his nails because he didn’t like the mittens but she didn’t want him to cut himself. Through our text conversations she had learned of my rapidly emptying house and her message this morning was just to check in and see how I was doing.

She was such a sweetheart and I replied with a shrug emoji declaring that if sobbing over a pint of ice cream at 11am was normal then I was doing just fine. The phone rang a moment later and I sighed seeing her name pop up because the message wasn’t intended to make her feel guilty or anything, it was just genuine honesty. Still, I answered the phone, setting the pint of ice cream aside for a moment.

“It sounds like you need some baby cuddles.” Kayla stated, the sound of soft chatter coming through the line. “Why don’t you come over. Brayden wouldn’t mind seeing his favorite doctor.” She suggested.

“That’s sweet but I’ll be okay.” I assured her. “I don’t want to impose. I’m sure I can find something to do.”

“You’re not imposing.” Kayla insisted. “Me texting you at 2am with a breastfeeding question was imposing.” Her voice was teasing and I sighed softly remembering being up with my own newborn when she had a question about hers since Brian was on the road.

“Seriously.” She continued. “Come over, snuggle Brayden, and give my husband a second opinion on this bottle of wine he just got since I can’t drink.” She suggested. Sensing that she truly meant it, I sighed and agreed reluctantly telling her to send me the address.

____

45 minutes later, I had cleaned myself up so it didn’t look like I had spent the last few hours sobbing. After putting on some light makeup, I had thrown on some black jeans, a striped long sleeve tee, and a tan pullover before deeming myself decent enough to head out.

Plugging the address in my phone’s gps, I drove over to Kayla and Brian’s neighborhood, parking down on the street in front of their house. It didn’t even register that there were approximately a half dozen cars spread between the driveway and the street already as I made my way up to the front door.

Kayla greeted me after just a minute and I gently teased that if I didn’t know better I wouldn’t believe she just had a baby as she let me inside. That made her smile, and as she guided me to the kitchen for a glass of wine I realized that there was a significant amount of noise coming from the living room. It wasn’t until she was murmuring for me to make myself comfortable that I realized the living room was occupied by almost a dozen Penguins players, football pregame on tv.

“Alright Muzz, you can give my baby back now.” Kayla declared half-joking, half-serious. As soon as the goalie handed the baby over, Kayla was crossing the room back to me and handing off the little boy who just snuggled into my chest as soon as he was placed there. “There...baby snuggles.” She murmured.

“Thanks.” I whispered, resting a hand over the infant’s back before taking a sip of wine feeling slightly uncomfortable as eyes slowly landed on me.

“Hey doc.” Brian greeted appearing from somewhere else in the house. “Let me know what you think of that wine, not sure if this brand is a keeper or not.” He stated simply portraying the feeling that I wasn’t at all anywhere I didn’t belong and that this was a normal occurrence. Nodding I promised to do so before just focusing back on the baby in my arms. The physician portion of my brain noted that he was doing well and had certainly been growing while the rest of me just found myself relaxing at the feeling of a baby’s steady breaths.

Most of the guys paid me no mind as the game started. Yet I felt one pair of eyes linger. As I stepped outside after handing Brayden off to feed just before halftime, a four legged companion joined me and I chuckled petting the Dumoulin’s dog Roo while sitting on the steps of their patio nursing my second glass of wine.

The patio door slid open and then shut before a body slid down next to me on the steps.

“So where are your foster kids?” A familiar voice asked and glancing over my eyes met those of the Penguins Captain.

“With another foster family, with their mother, and with their paternal grandmother.” I whispered, quickly taking another sip of the wine to try and push back another round of tears. “The sucky thing about being a foster mom is they always go away in the end.”

“I...I didn’t know.” Sid mumbled after a moment and I waved him off petting Roo and wiping at my eye with the back of my hand.

“I didn’t expect you to.” I stated simply.

“So that’s why…” Sid trailed off, stopping when I nodded.

“Baby cuddles to try and make everything better.” I shrugged. “To fill the three new cracks in my heart. It’s been a long time since I was childless.” I whispered. “I’ve been trying to recall when it was and I honestly can’t remember. I feel like it had to have happened at least a few times but I really can’t recall not having anyone since I became a foster mom in the first place.”

“How long is that?” Sid asked, tone softer now than it had been that day at the hospital.

“Two...almost three years. I applied to become a foster parent toward the end of my residency.”

“Can I ask how many?” Sid questioned.

“36.”

“In three years? That’s...wow.” Glancing over I could see the genuine shock on his face.

“I don’t know what the turnover rate is generally but I’m fairly certain my rate is higher than average. I get a lot of the drug addicted babies because of my skills and they’re generally only with me 2-3 weeks until it’s safe to move them into a more permanent placement, often with other family members.”

“How do you handle that?” He murmured, reaching down to pet Roo as well who had rolled over onto her back for belly rubs.

“Usually I just focus on my patients, on the kids that I do still have with me because they deserve all of my love and attention. This time? Crying over Ben and Jerry’s at 11am until Kayla insisted I come over.” A smile cracked Sid’s face and he apologized quickly declaring that this isn’t something to smile about.

“No it’s okay. You can find it amusing, I know it wasn’t the most healthy coping method.”

“Are you going to be okay?” He inquires softly.

“Yeah. Well, I should probably lay off the wine. Dumo has really good taste.” Sid’s eyes crinkled a little bit and he looked at me like be serious. “I will be. I mean it’s only a matter of time before I get the call that another child needs me.” I assured him. “I just...sometimes...days like this...they make me wonder whether I still want to do this, you know…”

“Go on…” Sid urged.

“I just...it’s so hard. Never knowing whether I’m going to wake up and have to say goodbye again. Constantly giving away pieces of my heart that I’ll never get back. Days like today make me just want to be a mom. Not a foster mom but a mom. To have my own kids who won’t be there one day and gone the next.”

“I get that feeling.” Sid murmured after a moment. “Not the ‘here one day gone the next’ part, but uh, wanting your own kids part, that I get.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke before dropping his hand back down to pet Roo, his fingers brushing against mine. Immediately my mind flashed back to the feeling of his hand wrapped around mine and I quickly pushed that aside.

“There you are!” Kayla exclaimed, popping her head out the door, her eyes shifting back and forth between you and Sid and noting how close you were sitting. “We just put out some food if you’re hungry and want something other than ice cream.” She grinned, dipping back inside looking like she was about to burst with what she just saw even if it was absolutely nothing.

When Sid stood he offered a hand out to help you up, murmuring for Roo to come inside and he’d see if he could find her a treat. The bulldog was eager for that and followed after him as you brushed yourself off and picked your wine glass up moving to rejoin the group.

Ridding of your buzz with some food and water and more baby snuggles you finally headed home with the feeling that there was something more to your conversation with Sid that you hadn’t put your finger on.

Outfit:

#sidney crosby #sidney crosby imagine #pittsburgh penguins #pittsburgh penguins imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #ppenguins #019

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bopbopstyles · 4 years

Photo

ELEVATED SURFACES

RATING: R/smut (sex, heavy alcohol use, smoking, lots of cursing)

WORD COUNT: 11.6k

CATEGORIES: fratboy!harry

MASTERLIST (check it out for extras) | INSPO TAG | PLAYLIST

a/n: as a recently graduated srat girl and lover of a good frat party, this one shot was intended to fill the whole in my heart which is LEGIT frat Harry. he is fratty and hot and long haired and a mess. if u like this try out TEMPTATION which is my other frat!h series and the first thing i ever wrote on this gd website (he’s not as fratty but we love him a LOT)

a/n pt.2: as a note, i want to make very clear that frats and greek organizations frequently harbor predators and abusers. i do not in any way condone that behavior or that reality, and i would like to bring attention to a petition to remove a fraterity that had done truly many horrible things--your signature would be a huge help. for survivors of assault, you are not alone, and it is not your fault.

As you rose up, your eyes locked on a figure in the doorway of the basement. His long hair was loose, curls that had been pulled out from the hair tie he always had on his wrist, a tight white shirt that you knew meant all of his tattoos were on display. Harry was watching you, you realized as you twisted your hips and bounced your arms up and down with the beat, singing the words. So you kept his gaze, and just to taunt him, when the chorus hit again, you dropped down, ass hitting your heels, eyes on his the whole time.

Harry is a very fratty frat boy and Y/N is a really good dancer

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

“We really should not be still going to our own mixers,” Emily said to you, fluffing her hair and rotating to check her ass in her jeans. You looked up from where you were sitting on your bed, a gin and tonic in one hand to get your blood flowing before the party started. Emily sighed, and then turned from the mirror to you, grabbing the coffee cup that had never seen coffee, just alcohol. “Are people even going?”

You nodded, tossing your phone next to you and leaning against the bed frame. “Alexis is on her way over—she got held up finishing an essay. Maya said she might come, I tried to convince her by promising I’d bring my flask and you’d have your Juul.”

“I swear, she has to just give in and get one of her own.” Emily took a long sip and crossed her arms.

“She claims that will make her addicted.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “She’s already addicted—she uses half my pods and ends up hanging out with whatever guy will let her take a hit. Is it just going to be us and all the new members?”

“No, I think some juniors are going. And definitely the sophomores—they’re all on the little hunt.” You got up, going to your computer to change the song, scrolling through your comprehensive and well-curated pregame playlist. “Plus, who gives a fuck, we’ll only be there for an hour or two for the free alcohol and then we’re hitting the bars.”

“True.” A knock came from the door, and Emily hollered to come in, and Alexis appeared in the doorway, her makeup looking utterly flawless as always. You had always wanted Alexis’s wardrobe and told her constantly, to which Alexis always replied that she wished you were the same size. Unfortunately, Alexis was a solid five inches shorter than you and had a completely different bra size, making sharing quite difficult.

“Bitches, I brought tequila!” Alexis swung into the room in a cloud of perfume, and threw her arms around you and Emily’s shoulders. “Come on, we need to get tipsy before we get to this mixer. Nick already texted me making sure I was coming.”

“Grab the shot glasses,” You replied, nodding to the makeshift bar cart in the corner, which as laden with glasses of all kinds and all your alcohol. “Are you hooking up with him tonight?”

Alexis shrugged, pulling her tequila from her bag and setting it on your desk before turning and going for the shot glasses. “Probably. I don’t know, he’s been weird lately—we hooked up on Monday night, but then he got all weird and left like immediately after and hasn’t texted me since. Barely acknowledged me when we saw each other in the library.”

“Was the sex weird?” Emily asked, unscrewing the top on the tequila so she could pour.

“Yeah,” Alexis replied, holding the glasses steady while Emily poured. “Like weirdly…intense? I let him come inside me which was probably a stupid idea, but I’m on the IUD so we should be all good. And then I offered to let him stay and he just got all flustered and said he had to go.”

You took your full shot glass, and you all clinked before tossing them back, the alcohol burning on your throat. You hated tequila shots but Alexis loved them, and you did admit they did their job. “Do you think he’s caught feelings?”

Alexis’s eyes widened. She had been pining after Nick for ages, his tall basketball stature and surprisingly good fashion sense a dime a dozen. Much less, apparently the sex was insane, so what wasn’t to like? “You think? I thought it might’ve not been his vibe.”

Emily grabbed the bottle. “Another?” You all nodded, and she poured again, The Weeknd crooning in the background. “Just see what happens tonight, feel out what his vibe his.”

“Good idea.” You slammed back another shot, hissing before setting down the glass. “Okay, that’s enough tequila or you two are going to be carrying me home tonight.”

Emily and Alexis laughed, before taking seats on your bed, continuing to chatter about the night ahead. It was a Friday, your favorite night because it was usually just mixers, no general parties, which as a senior you had grown to despise. The fighting for watered down alcohol, packed bodies and horrific gender ratio was simply no longer something you had the energy to deal with. Mixers were your preferred zone, filled with your sorority sisters who you adored, the opportunity to actually hang out with the frat brothers whose presence you enjoyed, and usually pong. Sometimes they even let you DJ because you had the best party playlists. The president of Sig Ep had actually asked for the link one time and you’d heard they used it sometimes when the brothers didn’t want to man the computer anymore.

You surveyed your outfit in your narrow mirror, the black denim jeans and simple white tank that showed a bit of stomach and your tan you’d worked hard on during your winter escape to the Caribbean with your lineage. It was simple, yet it suited your needs—after three and a half years of college parties, you had discovered getting dressed up for frat parties was a useless activity, since your clothes would get drenched in jungle juice and sweat anyways. You left your best outfits for Saturday nights spent clubbing downtown.

If you were being honest, the whole reason you were going tonight was because at the last mixer you’d had with Beta, you’d turned around on the dance floor to find Harry’s eyes on you. You were already dancing with another one of the brothers and ended up making out with him in a corner until you got bored, but you hadn’t been able to get the sight of his eyes on you out of your head.

You’d known Harry since freshman year, your interactions limited mostly to mixers and the occasional run-in in the dining halls when you exchanged pleasantries, or the one time he’d volunteered for a karaoke team for your sorority philanthropy event and you’d been in charge of his team. But the two of you had rarely ever spent time together. That didn’t mean you hadn’t had a lingering crush on him since you’d first laid eyes on him, though, and over the years he’d only gotten more attracted. A body that filled out his white t-shirts and black jeans, hair long and sweeping his shoulders to where he wore it in a bun most times, a jaw that could cut glass. He was hot and he knew it, as did everyone else on campus.

As juniors you had both been on the executive boards of your respective Greek organizations and had ended up in meetings together about housing violations and social calendars, but it hadn’t ever led to much more than you both complaining about how fucking annoying FIJI and their insistent requests for a house was, considering they’d trashed their last one. But this year, you’d found his eyes on you multiple times, and you wondered if perhaps your time had arrived. You’d both always danced around each other and you were curious after all these years if he was finally interested in hooking up. Not that you really expected much more, or were looking for much else—you were a senior, after all, and you were enjoying it.

“Y/N.” Alexis’s voice ripped you from your musings over Harry, her fingers snapping from her spot on your bed. “What’s got you thinking hard over there?”

“Harry?” Emily guessed, one eyebrow raising. “Emmett said he’ll be there tonight.”

“He’s always there,” you replied, because he was. Like you, he seemed to enjoy the mixers, but usually avoided the open parties unless he was on door duty.

“You’d hook up with him, right?”

You looked at Alexis. “Obviously. He’s so fucking hot.”

She laughed, as did Emily. “Then go for it, girl. It’s not like he’ll say no.”

You shrugged. “He might. Never know.”

“I seriously doubt that. You look hot as fuck, as usual, and are the life of the party. Beta adores you. They literally asked you to move in this year when they had an open spot.”

“It was a joke,” you reminded them, because it was—you wouldn’t ever be allowed to live in the house and they knew that. It was true though, you had become a bit of a groupie over the past few years, preferring the more laid back vibe in their house. You’d become friends with all the senior guys, except the weird or obnoxious ones, and had become a regular invite to Bachelor Monday watch parties in their second floor living room. You brought snacks and your friends, they provided the booze and the cable.

“Still,” Emily said, nudging you the toe of her black booties. “Don’t sell yourself short, babes. He is missing a brain if he’s not interested in you.”

“And seriously missing out,” Alexis added. You shot her a look, but she just chuckled. “Bitch, I lived next door to you last year. You are loud.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you said, laughing, but she was right. You were. Guys had told you on countless occasions, but you really couldn’t find it in yourself to care all that much. “Come on, we should go. Maya is texting me asking when we’re leaving.”

“Do you have your cigs?” Alexis asks you, downing the rest of the drink she’d made while you had been staring into space.

It was your vice, one you had picked up during a semester abroad and only did when you were drunk. You knew you should stop, but something about it made you feel powerful, a bit badass, so you kept doing it. “Obviously. Emmett will have a fit if I don’t.” You swiped your pack from your desk drawer and your trusty pale blue lighter, and shoved them into the pocket of your jacket. With one last swig of your drink, your veins buzzing with alcohol just the right amount, the three of you were off, singing an old Hannah Montana song in the elevator down to the lobby of your dorm.

One of the pledges was working the door, but happily let you three into the frat house. The lights on the main floor were off, except for the ones in the front study that doubled as a coat room, where you tied the arms of your jackets together and set them in the corner so you didn’t lose them. Your cigs were transferred to your back pocket, and you just prayed you didn’t forget they were there and crush them again.

Josephine and another junior were the sober sisters, and offered you three hugs before checking your names off the list. You got positive points for being there, as if that was the main reason you had shown up.

“Emmett!” Emily called, and the blond-headed boy’s head flipped up from where he was standing behind the bar. A Gatorade water cooler was sitting on the high bar, stacks of red solo cups and boxes of white claws and beers sitting on top of one another.

Aka, your happy place. “He’s bartending, thank god,” you said, and grabbed Emily and Alexis, weaving through the crowd. Girls stopped you all as you moved, hugs and squeals at your appearance. You had to admit, you were popular in your sorority, but mainly because you had made it your mission to get your money worth. As a result of your exec position, you’d gotten to know the sophomore member class and you adored them all, chaotic messes who always turned up with you and made you laugh hysterically. Honestly, you were sad to graduate because it meant leaving behind so many fun friends and memories.

“We’ve been waiting for you three,” Emmett said when you arrived in front of him. He was wearing the frat’s homecoming shirt from the previous year and his eyes were dilated, obvious that he had smoked before. “What are we drinking?”

“What’s the mix?” You asked, pointing to the cooler.

He grabbed three cups, knowing you would be taking it. “Shit ton of vodka, Kool Aid, water, the usual.”

“My favorite,” you replied, blowing him a kiss. “How is it downstairs?”

He filled the cups and handed them to you all. “They just wrapped up pong so it’s still getting moving.”

Alexis took a long sip before grabbing your hand. “Sounds like we need to get people dancing.” With that she turned around, her long slick black hair moving in a circle. “Let’s dance!” She called, and the girls around you cheered, following the three of you down the slippery steps to the basement.

Downstairs, The Motto was playing and you bobbed your head along with the beat, moving your hips as you entered the large basement space. It was dark except for a glowing sign with the Beta letters in narrow neon lights, casting the room with a tint of green. Your battered frat shoes, an old pair of white Vans, stuck against the beer and jungle juice-covered floor as you made your way to the middle. A couple of other girls and brothers were scattered around the floor, and you broke from Emily and Alexis’s hands as you twirled on the floor.

You raised your cup above your head and started dancing, rapping the lyrics by heart, moving your hands and hips along with the song. Emily and Alexis sang along with you and some of the younger girls showed up, then some other seniors who shared your love for frat parties. All of a sudden your little was screaming and running towards you, Mallory’s arms wrapping around your waist.

“Oh my fuck god, MOM,” she screamed, using the nickname she’d had for you since you’d taken her as your little two years ago. You laughed and threw your arm around her shoulders, screaming the lyrics. There was a specific reason you had taken Mallory as your little, and it was because she lost her shit at parties just as much as you did. You two were a dynamic duo like no other, and if your grand little didn’t have a huge exam on Monday, she’d be here too and you would all be dancing together as usual.

You downed your jungle juice, the sugary drink combined with the loud music blasting and your friends making your adrenaline kick into high gear. And then Maya appeared, arms waving like crazy, and then she dropped it low and you remembered why you adored her, even if she always stole Emily’s Juul. She had a beer in one hand and a white claw in the other, ready for the night ahead.

Then Emmett appeared, trailed by some of the other brothers in tank tops and t-shirts, one carrying a six pack on his shoulder and handing out warm beers to the brothers he passed. Emmett beelined for Emily, his arm thrown around her shoulder, their completely platonic friendship on show for everyone. The song ended and you took a breath, crushing your cup and tossing it into the corner so you could have your hands free. Emily pulled her Juul free and took a hit, passing it to Maya next without a question between them.

The opening notes of Come Get Her started and you immediately grabbed Alexis and Emily, beelining for the bar that the speakers rested on, something you weren’t even sure how it got there, but it was your favorite elevated surface of all time. Wide enough to dance, tall enough to be high but not too high where you couldn’t mostly stand. You clamored up, coming to nearly full height and turning to your friends.

“Somebody come get her, she’s dancing like a stripper!” You screamed, your friends coming in a circle in front of the three of you, some other girls getting up on the bar. When the line came through again, you decided fuck it, and you dropped your ass low, bending your knees and tipping your head back.

When you danced, you didn’t give a single fuck about impressing guys or any of that. You just simply loved to dance with your friends, move your hips, and didn’t care what you looked like. Mallory screamed when you got low, your name falling from her lips in a squeal of joy.

That had him moving. He joined a circle where Emmett and some other senior guys were dancing with some other girls, beers in hand as they shifted back and forth. But you knew what would have them all actually dancing and screaming and jumping along with you. You needed to see Harry like that—loose and free. So you turned around and grabbed the attention of the sophomore on aux, his name something along the lines of Justin, and screamed your song choice to him. He gave you a thumbs up, and then you turned back around. Your hair was sticking to the back of your neck, and you rolled it into a loose, high bun, pulling the elastic on your wrist around it as you swayed to the song.

You could hear the song ending, and with your eyes on Harry, you decided you would get down. He was next to a pledge with a six pack, and you wanted a beer. You were mixing alcohols like nobody’s business tonight, but you’d done worse. You squatted down and kicked your feet out, Mallory’s hand coming out to help you down. “You good?” She asked, leaning in to you.

“Yeah, just hot,” you replied. “Going to get a beer.” She nodded and let you go. There wasn’t a need to watch your friends as much in a normal party, since you knew all the girls here. Maya pulled you in for a hug as you moved, and then the current president called out your name from where she stood with her boyfriend, a white claw in her hand.

Squeezing next to Emmett, you nudged the waist of the pledge next to you. “Can I get one?” You asked, pointing to the beers.

“Yeah,” he replied, pulling one from the case and handing it to you. It was a Natty Light, but you really could’ve given fewer fucks—they were a frat after all, they didn’t buy the good stuff.

You popped the tab and took a long swig, the liquid quelling your rough throat from singing. And then, the song changed, and you smiled, eyes meeting Harry’s. You decided you were going to draw him out. “I got hoes, callin’!” You screamed, the song starting the speakers, and the boys all joined in. Fuck it, you thought, and chugged the rest of your beer so that you could jump, your arms outstretched and pumping up and down. Your bun was bouncing on your head and you were grinning, the music flowing through you.

Harry was watching you, his head tapping, hair swishing back and forth. You needed more. So you moved into the center of the circle, knowing the guys would hype you up, and reached for him. “Why aren’t you dancing?” You asked him playfully, and his eyebrow shot up.

“Fuck! Shit! Bitch!” The best lines of the song ran through the speaker and you just grabbed his hand, which was warm, and pulled on him. Suddenly his body was in front of you, close, and you tried to process what your original plan was. But then, Harry started moving, back and forth, head bopping, rapping the lyrics in time, and you knew you had gotten him. “I be ballin’, like a motherfuckin’ pro,” you sang, starting up to jump, and to your surprise, Harry joined you, a carefree expression finally crossing his face. He was screaming the lyrics then, hair bouncing as he moved. He rotated, grabbing the shoulders of another one of the boys, who joined in with him, them screaming the lyrics at each other.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the change in his demeanor so sudden. When the song changed, T-Shirt by Migos coming on, he turned back to you. All of a sudden, his lips were next to your ear and you choked on air. “Fuckin’ love that song,” he said, accent smooth in your ear.

“You and every other frat boy,” you replied, stepping backwards. You had ended up at the side of the circle closer to the wall, and so you moved towards it, freeing yourself from the heavy circle of boys.

The song was slower, not a jumping and dancing song, but one that suggested the slow grinding of hips and closeness of bodies. Which fuck it, you wanted. Desperately. He was looking at you with an intense stare, smile sloppy from alcohol, Harry sweaty on his forehead, arms straining under the fabric of his shirt. He was following you, taking a step away from his friends and following your body as if magnetic. So you just went for it, putting your weight lower, and rolled your hips back and forth to the music.

Mama told me/not to sell work/Seventeen five/same color T-shirt

Your eyes met his, and the shared intensity of his gaze stirred something inside of you. Desire. A need to know what his skin felt like, a desire that had been lingering since you first saw him. Your hands moved on their own, draping over his shoulders, and his hands found the curve of your waist, and suddenly you knew what his skin felt like on yours. They found the bare skin between the hem of your shirt and the top of your jeans, burning your already warm skin.

Justin-something on aux changed the song, deciding that was enough, and then No Role Modelz was on, and you moved, swaying back and forth, your chests coming closer and closer. His face was inches from yours and you wondered what his lips would taste like. The slow rap and smooth feel of the beat had your eyes fluttering shut, mind twirling from the alcohol and the lowlights, the heat of the packed basement. If you didn’t have Harry under your hands, you might have left for a smoke break, an excuse for air. But you weren’t letting go of him anytime soon. So you turned around and when your ass touched his dick you couldn’t help but smile—he was already hard. You felt his arm move and watched him sip his beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drank. You rolled your hips against him and then reached up, grabbing the can and bringing it to your own lips, taking a sip and watching him watch you. The two of you were taunting each other, acting on a feeling that had always been an undercurrent in every one of your interactions, a slight sexual tension that if you pulled on would become taught.

Which as you pressed against him, you fucking yanked on. His free hand clasped around your hip, holding you close and swaying in time with you. You could feel the sweat that had soaked through his t-shirt a bit, but you didn’t care—you were sweaty yourself, so was everyone in the room. It was part of the appeal, the fact that everyone was a mess and no one cared. He was rock hard between the denim of both of your jeans, and you could feel the power racing through you, the fact that you had him like this going straight to your head.

When Mr. Brightside came on, you decided that was your smoke break time. You couldn’t stand the song after so many years, and the feeling of bodies pressing together as they jumped was too much for you. “I’m going to get some air,” you said, turning around so you could face Harry.

He was so close to you, just inches away, when his tongue licked over his lip. “Can I come with?”

“Sure.” You grabbed his hand as you moved through the crowd, pushing between frat brothers and your sorority sisters who were all dancing together to the song. When you made it through the exit you sighed, the stale air of the stairwell even feeling better than that room.

“Fuck it was hot in there,” Harry said, your hand dropping from his. He followed you up the stairs and you nodded. You pushed open the door and a Doja Cat song was playing, some people upstairs scattered around, drinking and talking, some sitting on couches together. You waved to Maya, who seemed to have also needed a break, and nodded to the door as if to tell her you were getting some air.

“I’m going to smoke if that’s okay,” you told him as you made your way to the door, pulling your cigs and lighter from your back pocket.

He nodded. “Can I bum one?”

You opened the heavy oak door and said hello to the handful of guys sitting on the steps, who were manning the door and making sure no one random got in. “Sure,” you responded to Harry finally, sitting down on the concrete half wall that lined the landing. You could hear the slight thump of the music, but for the most part it was quiet, the the frat house a couple yards away not throwing anything tonight.

Harry leaned against the wall close to you, taking your offered cigarette. You flicked the lighter and raised it to your cigarette, taking a drag when it lit. Then you handed it to Harry, who accepted it gladly, doing the same. The smoke filled your lungs and your drunken mind considered that you should quit, but at the same time, you liked having something to do when you got air, an excuse to be on the steps. One of the other guys asked for one, and you handed one over, making a new friend.

And then you looked back to Harry. “So,” you said, tapping the ash on your cig. “How have you been?”

You hadn’t seen him since your last mixer with Beta, but you two hadn’t talked in ages. “Good,” he replied. “Busy with classes and stuff.”

“What are you studying again?”

“Political science,” he answered, and your eyebrows shot up. You had expected business or economics, like most of the Beta brothers.

“Why poli sci?”

He shrugged, tapping the ash before taking another drag. “Dunno, really. Took a class freshman year and liked it enough.”

“You don’t want to work in politics or something?”

“I don’t really know what I want to do, honestly.”

“You make it sound like that’s unusual,” you tell him. “Most people don’t.”

He chuckles, a low sound from the back of his throat, and you like the sound of it. ��I’ll tell my dad that next time we talk.” You could tell there was a story there, but didn’t push. It wasn’t that kind of moment. “What about you?”

“Psych and pre-law,” you reply, the answer rolling off your tongue with ease.

“Oh? What kind of law?”

You took another drag before answering. “Criminal defense, but I want to work with people on death row.”

His eyes widen, just as you expected. It’s the usual response from people. “Fuck, that’s awesome. What made you interested in it?”

“I just got really into true crime when I was in middle school and ended up doing research on the criminal justice system and what a fucking disaster it is. Death sentences and death row especially. So I want to overturn false convictions.”

He puffed a cloud of smoke, and you watched his lips form a circle, a dark pink color that drew you in. “And you said most people don’t know what they want to do.”

A breeze made the hair on your arm hair stand up, and you rubbed the skin to warm up. It was cold tonight. “I’m unusual,” you told him. “Most of my friends have no idea what they’re doing after graduation.”

You had reached the end of your cigarette, so you dropped it to the ground and stamped it out, the combination of the nicotine and alcohol making your head deliciously hazy. “I’m going back in.”

Harry dropped his cigarette too, putting out the bud. “Lead the way.” He swiped his ID card on the door to let you both in, and you held the door for him, the sound of Post Malone sweeping through the house. “Want another drink?”

You mentally considered how drunk you were, came to the conclusion that you could take some more, and nodded. “White claw, please.” If you laid off the jungle juice you would last a bit longer, and you weren’t particularly wanting to get wasted tonight—you wanted to see where this went.

Harry nodded and walked towards the bar, while you turned to the group of girls closest to you, who were drinking juice and chattering amongst themselves. They immediately started asking you about Harry, about what was happening, and you shrugged because you truly didn’t know. “He’s hot,” one of them, a sophomore named Cat said. “You going to go for it?”

“If the opportunity presents itself,” you replied. You weren’t going to push with Harry, the last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in front of him. You’d follow his lead, see what he was interested in, matching his flirting and see where it went. Not to say you weren’t forward, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable either. “What about you guys?”

Cat launched into an in-depth analysis of the weird flirtation she’d been having with a junior guy in Beta, how they’d hooked up once but not again, but he kept looking at her. You encouraged her to go for it if she wanted, and she grinned, perhaps just needing an extra push. All of a sudden, you felt a hand on your back, and Harry was next to you, a Black Cherry white claw in one hand, a Heineken in the other.

“If I’d know there were Heinekens I would’ve had that,” you told him, accepting your white claw.

His hair fell behind his shoulders when he tipped the beer back. “Most girls don’t like beer.”

“Well you’ve met one now.” You liked messing with him, dropping flirtations into the conversation and pushing buttons. It made him smirk at you and you loved it, the twinkle in his eyes and the pinkness of his lips.

“H.” A guy appeared behind Harry. “We’re out of vodka.”

“How are we out?” He asked, taking another sip of his beer.

The guy, a pledge from the looks of him, grimaced. “Someone took one of the bottles.”

“Fuck,” Harry said with a sigh. “Have one of the other pledges go get more and keep the receipt. Get more claws while you’re out, we’re running low.” With that, he turned back to you, exhaling sharply. The boy disappeared, sensing that was his cue.

Right as you were about to speak, you heard the opening notes of I Love It from downstairs, and you turned to the girls around you. “Downstairs,” you told them, and they all tossed back the rest of their drinks before tossing them into the trash can a few paces away. You opened the door to the basement and then looked back to Harry. “Coming?”

That made him move, following you down into the dark stairwell that smelled of stale beer and sweat. He stayed close to you, and when your foot slipped on a stair he reached out to steady you, a hand to your side that made your body warm with more than just the temperature of the room. The girls in front of you streamed into the room, screaming the lyrics to the song.

“You’re such a fucking hoe/I love it!” You joined in, laughing at the lyrics in spite of yourself, but the truth is you fucking loved the song. It was absurd and was filthy, but you liked screaming the lyrics in a room with a bunch of your friends.

You twirled around and walked into the room backward, moving your body with the beat, taunting Harry to follow you. Which he did, as if connected to you by a magnet. You could see his lips moving, the lyrics falling from his lips to match you. You stopped moving in the middle of the room and Harry’s hands found your hips. Turning in his hands, a coy smile on your face, you knew what this song was going to involve. Hips moved on their own accord, grinding hard against him. You could feel his breath on your neck, the lyrics I’m a sick fuck/I like a quick fuck/I like my dick sucked/I’ll buy you a sick truck in your ear. Hearing the words on his lips for some reason had your blood pumping, and you wanted to hear them again on a loop.

His dick was hard against your ass and your hands stretched behind you, finding his hips to hold him close. His head fell to your neck, nosing at your skin, his fingers on the bare skin at your waist clenching. Your hips moved in time with each other, his body dropping to be at the height as yours, chasing the desire that was running between you. Your head tipped back against his chest and eyes fluttered shut, letting the alcohol in your veins and the music pounding in your ears take over. All you could feel was him, the cut of his body and the strength of his arms next to you, his hips insistently rubbing against yours and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to actually grind on him.

The song changed, Work Out by J. Cole sounding through the speakers and you pulled away from him and turned to face him. You were going to put on a bit of a show, you decided, because why the fuck not. It was clear at this point that he wanted you as much as you wanted him, so why pretend like anything else was happening?

So when the lyrics Let me see you get/High then go low/Now, girl won't you drop that thing down to the floor? fell through the speakers you dropped to the ground, Harry’s eyes following you came back up slowly, your body just inches from his. His hands fell on your body, grabbing at your waist to keep you close, pressing his hips forward to grind right over the front of your jeans and you panted from both the heat in the room and the pleasure ripping through your body. When the chorus came again, you dropped down, and this time you ran your hands down his legs lightly as you moved, fingers dancing down and then back up the seams of his jeans.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he said and you could barely hear him over the music.

His eyes met yours, searing into yours, a question passing between you. And then you were moving towards each other, an answer to the question in the way your lips met, slotted together and pulled at one another. Your hands were pulling at his shirt, grabbing at the material and the skin underneath, one of his hand holding your head close to his, the other at your waist. It was fast and messy, your lip pulling on his bottom one, before chasing him, his tongue brushing at the seam of your lips before dipping inside.

Kissing Harry was hot. It was like setting your whole body on fire with desire and you just wanted to know what the rest of him felt like because his lips were sending you to another planet. He tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth and a moan escaped you, desperation clear in your throat. You could feel bodies press around you, the notes of Fire by Louis the Child ringing through the room. When the beat dropped, you knew people were jumping, the guys doing that thing where they slammed into each other like some kind of mosh. But Harry just stayed there, pulling his lips into yours, drawing wet pants from your body. He was holding tight to you as if you were going to slip away, even though that was the last place you wanted to go.

But you decided you wanted to tease him a bit more. Not let him get away, but just…push him a bit. So you drew away, enough to where you could dance, your sorority sisters at your back—you had seen Alexis move behind you. You grinding on her, your asses touching, and you could hear her laughter, before moving against you. It was something you two always did, dancing partners since the moment you met.

“If I go down in flames/The smoke going to spell my name,” you sang.

Harry watched you, his eyes burning a line down your body, the ministrations of your hips against Alexis’s. And then he was moving towards you, his front pressed yours and his lips were at your ear. “Drink?”

You nodded, and let him pull you through the crowd and towards the stairs. People were moving down them and you pressed yourself to the wall to let them pass, before following Harry up the stairs to the main floor. “Is there anything better than that shit?” You asked him when you stood next to him, his arm loosely around your waist, holding you to him.

His gaze drifted to the bar and then back to you. “I’ve got some stuff in my room.”

You knew he lived in the house, the result of being on exec last year and having first dibs after the current exec board was placed, the hierarchy the same as in your own sorority house. “Do you have mixers?” As much as you drank, you still hated drinking most straight alcohol, especially if you were going to be sipping on it. When he nodded, you replied, “Let’s go.”

You caught the eye of Emily who was standing on the other side of the room, watching you, and you pointed upstairs to tell her where you were going. After she gave you a thumbs up, letting you know she’d check in before leaving, a silent conversation well rehearsed over the years, you followed Harry up the stairs. Other guys and girls streamed down them, coming from rooms where they were smoking or using the bathroom or drinking just like you.

“What floor are you on?” You asked when you passed the first floor, twisting to go up the second flight.

“Third,” he replied, not pausing no the stairs. “It’s quieter.”

That made sense, as you could imagine if he didn’t feel like partying one night it would be kind of hard to avoid. You followed him up, the sound of the music fading as you made your way higher into the frat house. You passed other girls on the way you exchanged hugs and promises to catch up after chapter on Monday night. Finally, you made it to the third floor, and Harry pushed open the door to a room with his name on it.

You followed him in and the first thing you noticed was how much of a boy’s room it was. Messy comforter, clothes on the floor, alcohol bottles lining the window sill, the frat’s flag above his bed. Some posters and photos littered the opposite wall, a single framed photo of what looked like his family on his dresser, along with some random items like cologne and a brush and hair ties. A pair of athletic shoes and boots were shoved into one corner, and a tub of protein powder sat on top of his mini-fridge, along with a stack of solo cups. On his desk was a bong and a couple of lighters, his computer sitting next to it on a charger. The dorm room was narrow, most of it taken up with a double bed that you were a bit confused by, since most rooms just had a single.

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” he said, shutting the door behind you. If you focused on it, you could hear nerves in his voice, a low laugh in the back of his throat as he surveyed his room. “Didn’t expect to have people up here.”

“It’s fine,” you told him, moving into the middle of the room to get out of the doorway, taking in the space.

“Uh, I’ve got Tito’s, Jack, some gin one of the guys got me.”

It drew you back to the whole reason you were in his room. He was standing next to his mini-fridge, a solo cup in his hand as he looked at you. “What mixers do you have?”

“Coke, juice, and tonic,” he replied. “Sorry, it’s not much.”

You shook your head. “Tito’s and tonic,” you told him. Usually you would’ve been all over the Jack and coke option, but considering how much you’d already drank the last thing you needed was to mix clear and dark liquors.

You watched him pour, leaning against his desk as you waited. He handed you the cup, asking you to try it and tell him if it was too strong. You took a sip and it was strong, but not too much. Then, he made a whiskey and coke you were jealous of, and the two of you stood in his room, not quite sure what to do. You didn’t want to go back down the party, the feeling of fresh air—even though it smelled vaguely like college boy, a mixture of sweat and cologne that you keenly recognized—feeling good on your skin.

“Want to listen to some music?” He asked, moving towards you. There was a bluetooth speaker on his desk, you realized, and shifted away so he could get at his computer.

You decided to sit on the bed, thighs resting on the soft comforter. “Sure.” You pulled your cigarettes and lighter from your back pocket, before looking back at him.

He fiddled with the speaker, the sound of it connecting ricocheting in the small room, before clicking keys to wake up his computer. “Any preferences?”

“I’m good with whatever,” you replied. “I like pretty much everything.” It was true, you had everything from country to Top 40s and rap on your Spotify, a variety of playlists to fit the mood.

He pulled on his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger as he perused his Spotify and you tried not to focus on the sight. Low music began to sound in the room and you immediately recognized the beginning notes of Let Her Go by 6LACK, a smile drifting onto your face. He must have noticed, because he turned around, his cup in his hand. “You like 6LACK?”

“More like obsessed,” you replied and he chuckled.

He sat on the edge of the desk, his knees falling open, his back slumped a bit. “I don’t know a single girl who even knows who he is.”

You took a sip of your drink before replying, resting your body back on one hand. “They must not have good music taste, then.”

Harry gave you a small smile, an edge of playfulness to it. “Where’s home for you?”

“Denver,” you responded. “You?”

“Holmes Chapel.”

“Where’s that?”

He brushed a hand through his hair, the long locks slipping between his fingers and you couldn’t help but wish you were the one doing it. “South of Manchester. It’s a small town, lots of fields and shit like that.”

You’d never been to England so you had no idea of where Manchester was, but you didn’t ask. “Do you like it?”

He shrugged. “It’s fine. I don’t want to like, move back or anything. But it’s a good place to go home to.”

Denver felt the same way to you—it was home, but it wasn’t a place you saw a future in. You’d go where law school took you, and then the work, wherever you could make the biggest impact. “Where do you want to go?”

The solo cup hung in his hands, and he twirled it a bit, the rim of the cup pressed between his fingers. “LA, maybe. New York. Not sure, really. London, most likely, unless I can get a job and someone to sponsor my Visa so I can stay.”

“Do you like the states?” You knew you were asking a lot of questions, but you’d never had a conversation like this with him and you were curious. Curious about him, about who he was, underneath all the frat shit that he loved so much.

“It’s different than home,” he replied, and you understood what he meant. “I don’t think I’ll want to be here forever, but it’s good for right now. Got friends here now.”

You took another sip of your drink, and then pushed yourself up, the need to pee suddenly overtaking your body. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Down the hall. Make sure you slam on the door before locking it—it got fucked up during homecoming and hasn’t been the same ever since.”

You nodded and took your cup with you, four years of college ingraining some lessons into your bones. Down the hall, you found a blond wood door and a doorknob that was barely attached to the door. You pushed it open and shut it quickly, shoving against it with your shoulder so that you could flip the lock. Inside, you wondered for the millionth time why boys were in capable from having a properly stocked bathroom. Head & Shoulders shampoo littered the floor of the shower, a flimsy shower curtain that had come free from a couple of the rings. You squatted to pee, grabbing the toilet paper roll that sat on top of the toilet, no one even bothering to properly put it away.

As you peed, you scrolled through your phone. Mallory had texted saying she was going bar hopping with some of her friends and you told her to text you if she needed anything and a heart, before checking her on Find My Friends to see she was, in fact at a bar. Then you texted your group chat with Emily and Alexis and Maya, who had asked how you were doing. You told them you were with Harry and most likely going to be here for a while, which got excited responses and Alexis sent the eggplant emoji, which made you snort. They told you to text you if you ended up staying the night so they could keep track of where you were, which you agree to do.

When you went to wash your hands, you rolled your eyes because of course they couldn’t even buy hand soap. You went to the shower and found a bottle of body wash, and squirted some into your hands before going back to the sink, rinsing them off. Then you looked at your face in the mirror, eyeliner and mascara still in tact, but your hair was a disaster. You pulled the bun free and let your hair tumble down your back, running through it with your fingers to calm the strands that were askew.

Standing the mirror, you had the opportunity to consider your choices. Did you want to hook up with Harry? Yes. That was a clear answer, despite your alcohol-hazed mind. Did he want to? Most likely—every indication had pointed towards yes. So your mind was made up as you pulled the door open and made your way back to his room, your phone tucked into your jeans and solo cup in your hand.

“You guys really need soap.”

He was still sitting on the edge of his desk, scrolling through his phone and sipping on his drink when you came into the room. At the sight of you, he put his phone down. “I know—it’s fucking disgusting. I have my own, though. Sorry for not sharing.”

You set your cup on his dresser, deciding you were done, and moved towards him. “It’s fine. I made do.” His eyes trailed down your front, the sexual tension thick in the room. When he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it, you decided fuck it you were done waiting.

You crossed the space between the two of you in second, slotting yourself between his knees. His hands found your waist immediately, his solo cup moving to rest on the table once your body was pressed to his. Without pausing, you pressed your lips to his, reconnecting them in a fire—you needed him, you wanted him, you craved his hands on your skin. Now that you were alone, it was like you couldn’t hold yourself together and neither could he. His hands moved up and down your back, tugging you into his chest as your hands curled in his long hair. Lips fought for dominance, teeth tugging and tongues pressing for more. When he licked into your mouth a wet moan left your lips and you pressed into the crotch of his pants without even meaning to.

6LACK was still flowing through the speaker, and the smooth RnB just adding to the desire rolling through your body. When his lips dropped to your neck, sucking and biting on your skin, a desperate, filthy noise fell from your mouth and you couldn’t help but smile when Harry grunted into you. “I—fuck,” he mumbled, squeezing at your hips.

Suddenly your clothes were too warm, burning against your skin. You leaned back and pulled at the hem of your tank top, pulling it up over your head and letting it fall to the floor. Harry’s eyes went wide, blown out irises from alcohol and desire criss-crossing over your body. “You can touch me,” you said, confidence coursing through your veins and just desperate for him to do something.

He didn’t hesitate, pulling you back into him and attaching his mouth to the swell of your breast, right above the lace of your bra. Hot breath on your skin had you keening into him, back arching up into his mouth, your fingers tugging into his hair. You loved his hair, having something to hold onto and anchor yourself, and from the pleased hums he liked it too. His hands fumbled with your bra clasp, and when he got it free and pulled the material away, he pulled your nipple into his mouth and you audibly sighed. When he sucked on it, then laved over it with his tongue you couldn’t help but buck into him. You were putty in his arms and he had barely done anything.

Your hands pulled at his shirt, the desire to see his skin overwhelming you. He didn’t make you wait, helping you tug it over his head, and let it drop to the floor. Black ink scattered across his skin, words and images that made a million questions swirl in your mind. The G on his shoulder, the ship on his bicep, the name Jackson scrawled above a rose, the swallows across his collarbones and a butterfly on his stomach. He sat there, chest heaving as he caught his breath and your fingers brushed his skin, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Y/N,” he rasped, “bed?”

“Yes.” The word fell from your lips with ease, and he was backing you into it immediately, hands in your hair and lips on yours. Your bare chests touching sent you into overdrive, the brush of your nipples on his warm skin, a sheen of sweat covering both of you from dancing all night.

The comforter was plush underneath your back as you scrambled up the length of his bed, his body following yours immediately. Your legs fell apart so he could fit between you, and when he did, his dick rested right against your clothed clit and it made you gasp. “Feel good?” He mumbled, the words a haze in your ears as he plucked your lips between his.

All you could do was buck up, your knees finding either side of him. You wanted to be on top, to be in control. You wanted to grind on him properly, after waiting for so long. With a hand at his chest, you pushed slightly, enough for him to move back. He must have understood what you wanted because he flopped onto the bed next to you, one hand on either of your thighs and you mounted him, your ass sitting on the top of his thighs.

When you moved your center over his dick, both of you groaned, deep and drawn out, your head thrown back in pleasure. It was bliss, after so much waiting, to finally be able to do this, his hands crawling from your thighs to your hips to hold you in place, exactly where he wanted you. You put your hands on his chest to hold yourself up, and let your hips find a sinful rhythm, one that was making pleasure curl in your stomach. Pants left your mouth, matched by Harry, who was watching you as if you were a fucking art exhibit, eyes trying to take in every inch of you. Fingernails curled into his skin, red marks that you expected to be there tomorrow, when he nudged at your clit, and you rubbed that spot a few more times, his name falling from your lips in a beg. “Harry.”

That had him moving, pulling your lips down to his so he could kiss you again, his fingers cradling the back of your head. It was just rough enough where you were scrambling to catch up and it felt good, that this was consuming every part of your brain. You rolled your hips again, your hands pressing into the pillow under his head. Then, you felt his thighs agains your ass, and he was pushing up into you, making him snugly flush against you, the only thing between you two being your clothes.

Which you wanted off, and wanted off now. You moved back, crawling between his legs, and his eyes followed you, panting as he watched you pop the button on his pants. He lifted his hips to help you and you tugged the tight skinny jeans that showed every inch of his thickness underneath them down his legs. Then, you pulled on his briefs, and he was bare in front of you, exactly as you wanted him. Your jeans were constricting your movement so you turned tot he side, pulling the denim off of your body so you were left in your underwear.

Then you were on him again, but this time, it was your hand on his dick, fingers running up the length of him.

“Fuck,” he said, voice husky in your ears. He was gorgeous underneath you, desperation making his eyebrows crease, his long hair a mess on the pillow. Why had you waited so long to act on this desire? You suddenly couldn’t remember.

He watched you spit onto his most sensitive part, and then slide your hand over him, spreading the moisture. He hissed at the feeling and you knew you wouldn’t be able to last long here—he was already hard, his tip red and throbbing. The fact that you had him this turned on and you’d barely done anything made your ego soar, to be honest. You pumped him three times before licking up the underside of him, his hands curling in the comforter, a stream of curses falling from his lips.

When you took him into your mouth, a low, rough grunt filled the room and you smiled. You hollowed your cheeks and immediately took him all the way into your mouth, resisting the urge to gag when he hit the back of your throat. “Shit,” he rasped. “You—shit.”

You’d done what you were about to give him just a handful of times before, only with people who you knew you would feel pleasure from too when they did it, and trusted. And Harry fit both of those categories, because he could fucking smile and you’d want to fuck him. So you grabbed his hand and placed it on the back of your head, before taking him all the way to the back of your throat. Your mouth was full of him and it felt so good.

“Want me to fuck your mouth?” His eyes were glimmering in the light, completely focused on you. You were happy you had left the lights on, because it meant you could every inch of him, every reaction you drew from him.

In response, you licked at his tip, hoping he knew that meant yes.

He seemed to, because he curled his fingers into your hair and pushed his hips up, his tip hitting your throat immediately. You groaned around his dick and he cursed at the vibrations. Then, he kept his hips on the bed and instead pulled you up and down him, fucking your mouth just as you had wanted. You couldn’t do much from this position, so you focused on inhaling through your nose and running your hands over his skin, scratching at the butterfly on his torso. Leaving reminders of this night, of you, on his body.

“Shit,” he mumbled, pulling you off. “I—I have to stop. But, shit, you feel so good, babe.”

The pet name made you smile, sitting back on your heels to wipe at your mouth, the taste of his salty precum still on your tongue. “Do you have a condom?” You asked, because all that you had done had left you more than ready—you needed him inside of you.

Harry’s eyes went wide and he scrambled up. “Fuck,” he exhaled, grabbing at his desk drawer and pulling it open. Watching him look through his drawers completely naked was, you had to admit, a bit amusing, but you kept your thoughts to yourself. He wrenched another drawer open, tossing the contents about as he looked. Then he sighed, and looked back at you. “I’m out.”

“Go find one,” you told him, leaning back against the wall, letting your knees drop open to show your underwear. You could feel the wet spot on them and you knew he saw it too. “I’ll wait here.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll—yeah I’ll find one.” He pulled on his jeans, not even bothering with his briefs, eyes flickering to you every once and a while. “Shit, I’ll—I’ll be back.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at how flustered he was, pushing open his door and letting it slam shut behind him. Through the door you could hear him knocking on the door next to his, some muffled words, and then him knocking again. He was going fucking door to door looking for a condom, you realized with amusement. Then, the patter of feet on the stairs, and you knew he was going downstairs, that no one else was in their rooms.

While you waited, you grabbed your phone and scrolled through it. Caught up on texts, liked shit on Instagram, checked Snapchat even though you barely used the app. Most people were at bars, as far as you could tell, but it looked like they’d set back up pong downstairs according to Emily’s story.

All of a sudden, feet pounded on the stairs and you knew it was Harry. You pushed your phone back onto the desk, and when the door opened, he was standing there holding probably ten condoms. “How many did you get?”

He looked down at the wad in his hand and visibly blushed. “I—I thought I’d re-stock.”

You let it slide, even though you knew exactly why he got so many. He was hoping you’d have a couple rounds, and you were not opposed to the idea. “Come here,” you said, and let your legs fall back open.

He was on you in second, his pants kicked down his legs as he moved and you were surprised he didn’t trip. Hands found your skin and he pushed you up the bed, this time he was the one hovering over you, lips drawing eager mewls from you. You pressed your hips into his unclothed erection and he cursed, a grimace crossing his face that you knew was from him restraining himself. “Can I take these off?” He asked, fingers pulling at your underwear.

“Please,” you replied and that made him smile at you. He peeled them down your legs, tossing them to the ground, a forgotten memory. Then he brushed a finger over your slit and you gasped, cool touch sending waves of pleasure through you. “Need you.” The two words made his head snap up from where he was looking at your pussy, eyes connecting with yours.

“I was going to go down on you,” he said, and although the thought was tantalizing, you needed him inside of you.

You shook your head. “Later.”

Harry wasn’t complaining. He grabbed one of the condoms from his desk and ripped it open, rolling it down his dick with a concentrated gaze. Then, he crawled up your body, reconnecting your lips, and you both sighed at the feeling of his dick rolling against your center. “Okay?” He asked, pulling away just a hair to check in.

“Please,” you begged, and that had him moving immediately.

He tugged one of your legs around his waist, and then he gripped his dick, brushing his tip to your slit once, twice, three times. On the third time, though, he pressed in, and your wetness accepted him immediately, allowing him to push in about halfway before he stopped.

It burned a bit—mainly just from his size, which was bigger than most other guys you’d been with. You hands scrambled across his chest, grabbing at his skin, struggling to get your breathing under control. “You’re big,” you said, unable to stop the words that fell from your lips.

A cocky smile drifted over his face and you mentally kicked yourself for adding to his ego. “Can I move?” He asked though and you nodded. His head bobbed down, and you realized he was watching where you two were connected as he pulled back and then pushed in all the way. A choked moan left your mouth and a similar one sounded from Harry’s, although his had a string of curses attached. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he rasped, hands adjusting so they were next to your head, his face above yours. “Fuck.”

You were about to tell him to move when he did it on his own accord, pulling out and back into you, the impact making your body shift on the comforter. There was a very real possibility of you having sore legs tomorrow, but you really didn’t give a fuck because he felt so good. “Holy shit,” you babbled, those words the only ones you could find as he thrusted in and out of you, finding a rhythm that made you both pant with pleasure.

Sounds drifted out of you without you even realizing, something that always happened when you had drunk sex. You couldn’t control yourself as much, unable to process how loud you were being, what you were saying. Looking back you couldn’t even remember exactly what you had said, but you knew it was a mess of curses and his name and God and just pants and mewls that were feeding Harry like a fucking three course meal.

He loved your sounds, used them to figure out what you liked, where to move and shift. You could tell because when you’d let out a sharp gasp he’d say, “Yeah, there? That’s the spot?” and drive in and out of you, hitting your g-spot perfectly with every move of his hips. Your hands were clutching at his hair as he thrusted into you, your ankles hooked around his lower back, and your body was desperate for release.

But you could also tell he was not going to last. His eyes were heavy, eyelids drawing shut with pleasure, fingers curling in the pillow next to you. Shoulders tensing and abdomen tight as he swiveled his hips, a broken moan falling between you. “Close,” he finally said, and dropped down to his elbows, so his face hovered above yours, only a hair away. “You feel so good, shit, oh my god—how do you feel so good?” His words were broken and that made them even better, that he had no control over what he was saying.

“Want you to come,” you babbled, “want to feel it, come on Harry, come for me, please, I need it.”

“Holy fuck—“ that had him snapping into you, hips slapping against yours, the sound of skin on skin overpowering the music that still played in the background. You gripped his shoulders when his head hung in the crook of your shoulder, and you knew he was about to come.

So you said one more thing. “I need you to come, Harry, please.” The words came out as a beg, exactly as you intended. His hips were stuttering immediately, curses falling between you like a broken record, repeating over and over again as he shot into the condom. He smattered kisses on your shoulder as he collapsed into you, sweat sticking to your skin.

He laid there for a second, panting, and you didn’t mind, even though you desperately needed to come. Perhaps it was how you clamped down on him, or you shifted your hips to feel slightly more of him, but Harry seemed to figure out what you needed. He lifted his head, took one look at you, and then pulled out, ripping off the condom and tossing it into his trash before crawling down your legs.

When his tongue licked your slit, you mewled his name, your hands moving into his hair immediately. You tugged and pulled on it as he licked over you, drawing circles that pulled desire from your flesh. And then he went inside, darting his deftly skilled tongue into you and practically thrusting it into you. His thumb brushed across your nub and you let our a shuddering moan, bucking up into his face. You were close—insanely close—the combination of his tongue inside of you and the thumb on your nub drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Harry,” you rasped, voice broken from panting. “I’m close.”

He seemed double his effort, tongue moving in and out of you at double time, his thumb brushing a brutal pace over you. You were twisting in his arms, hips bucking, curses leaving your lips. And when he pulled his thumb away and sucked on your clit, that’s when you came, in a mess of his name and broken gasps, choking on air. Your fingers curled tightly in his hair, anchoring his face to your center as you came, bucking up into him. He didn’t mind though, he just held your hips and took it, licking at you to draw out all of your aftershocks. Your eyes squeezed shut and your mind was a mess, swirling without the ability to grasp onto a single thread of thought, just a mess under his lips.

When you finally regained the ability to breathe, you pulled your hands from his hair and he sat up. You watched in awe as he licked his lips, gathering your juice, and swallowed them, a smile on his face. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really good at that?”

He gave you a cocky expression and then flopped down next to you. “They have, in fact.”

“Good. I’d be concerned about the other girls if they hadn’t.”

He laughed, and then pulled you into his body. You were surprised at his desire to cuddle, but you weren’t mad. “You can stay if you want. There’s people downstairs still and it’s cold out.”

You propped your head up on his shoulder. “There’s also all those condoms.”

“That’s true. Wouldn’t want them to go to waste.”

You trailed your fingers up his torso. “Might have to just stay the whole weekend if we’re trying to use them all.”

His eyebrows quirked, but he wasn’t mad at the prospect. “Wanna be my study break for the weekend?”

You smirked, leaning up to quickly peck his lips. “As long as you’re mine.”

He hauled your body on top of his and curled his fingers into your hair. “We’ll get your shit in the morning, then.”

“It’s a deal.” You kissed him, lips slotting against one another, slower and less hurried than before, but that same undercurrent of desire stringing between you two. You were already grinding into him, hips brushing over his as you moved.

Suddenly, a pounding sound came from the door, and you froze. “Fuck off!” Harry called, pulling the comforter that had ended up at the bottom of the bed over the two of you.

“Fuck—sorry—I need a condom, man.” The words were muffled, but you heard them all the same.

Harry snorted, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Go ask Nick,” he replied, “and leave me the fuck alone.” His hands grabbed at you, kneading into your ass, and you licked at his nipple.

It was going to be a long weekend.

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