note: this is a part two to car ride, per request. unedited really.
the concert was great and all, but your mind was somewhere else.
the music was blasting, amplified by large speakers. guitar riffs were complex and clean, making eddie go wild. jonathan and nancy were jumping up and down together, beers adorning their raised hands. you would bump hips with robin throughout the night, headbanging to only the most killer drum solos.
and steve was just there. lingering in the back of your mind, edging your peripheral.
he would stand behind you, not touching, just watching. everything around him would unfold in chaos and party and he wouldn't get the memo. he would groove and he would dance, but he didn't necessarily get the mix of heavy metal and rock that this band served.
when he'd left to go get beers, you noticed. the air behind you was empty and you'd missed the feeling of someone's eyes on you. it's like you were performing. and you liked it.
when steve came back, everyone chugged their beers in an instant. the crowd turns, completely enticed by what the next song would be. while the crowds of people push up, everyone gets clustered. then, steve takes his chance to get nice and close to you. he presses against your backside, chest glued to you.
within all the sweat, weed, and cigarettes lingering in the air, his musky, woody scent stood out. you knew he was right there.
"ever heard of personal space, harrington?" you head looks over your shoulder, a position you frequented earlier in the evening...
"do you think anyone here has?" he rallies, voice shouting for what seems to be the first time tonight. "god, it smells like shit."
you roll eyes. "what do you expect? it's an outdoor concert."
he doesn't reply, just turns his head away from you.
"what, have you never been to a concert before or something?"
when steve fails to respond, he gives you just the answer you needed.
"steve, how is that possible? how is it possible you're the lamest person i've ever met..."
the rest of your rant gets lost within the screams and shouts of the fans. steve somehow manages to shut you up in the only way he knows how.
touch.
he grabs your waist, hidden by the dozens of sweaty bodies surrounding you and holds on tight. his touch stands out from all the others. your breath catches in your throat at his bold movement. your head spins around, wondering if anyone could see how scandalous this all feels.
"do you ever stop talking?" he murmurs in your ear. his voice vibrates through you, like the music hums through the dirt and into your body. yeah, his voice was musical to you and he always seemed to hit the right notes when he went all low and sultry.
you despised him.
"do you ever have fun?" you don't let his hold refrain you from dancing. you move your hips back and forth, forcing his hand to follow you.
his jean-clad legs remain still and unmoving behind you. it was almost contradictory how stoic steve was in such a chaotic environment. he was usually dopey and goofy and charming the pants off of every woman he laid eyes on. but in this new ecosystem, he doesn't know how to act. you liked him offguard.
he pulls you stiff to his chest, catching you offguard.
"is this your idea of fun? rubbing your ass all over me?"
you still at his words. you swallow thickly. you feel that same bubble forming around the two of you like it had in the car.
he brushes and moves your hair from your shoulder, revealing your neck. shivers run down your spine as his warm breath lingers on your skin. he inches his way towards your ear.
you can't breathe.
"just wait. when this is all over, i'll show you real fun."
so, yes. the concert was great. were you distracted most of the time? yes. it was hard to concentrate on anything when steve's hand inhabited a home at your waist and his scent invaded your senses. he barely touched you and you were all wet and drippy just like you had been in the car. it was torture. true and unfair torture.
everyone was too tired the minute they got in the car. there were little post-concert discussions, so you assumed they would be saved for tomorrow. while you had moments of weariness, you were nowhere near exhausted. how could you be? you were forced to sit on the lap of king steve for a car ride that would take at least an hour now with traffic.
eddie was slumped and snoring. robin woke up in a panic at every bump before continuing to sleep talk. nancy tried her best to stay awake with jonathan before he shushed her to rest.
some low jazz song hummed on the radio to keep him awake and alert. everyone was tired. you couldn't even sleep if you wanted to… your body was buzzing.
but by half the car ride, you could admit you were exhausted, body crashing from the high of the night.
you were forcefully sitting upright on steve's lap to avoid contact as much as you can. you didn't want to indulge in anymore of him. your moment in the car prior to the concert was a moment full of weakness. and your moments at the concert were slightly intoxicated decisions. both which you give yourself the benefit of the doubt for.
but you were so tired...and he seemed so warm with his red jacket...
you swayed for a moment, eyes closing. you hadn't noticed you started tilting to the side until steve caught you. without thinking, he pulled you snug into his chest. he had an arm wrapped around your waist, while your head fell on his shoulder in surrender. you give into the fatigue that aches your bones.
"i really don't want you to wake robin up."
"mhm," you lazily mumble as your bones finally melt to butter. you drift to sleep with your head on steve's shoulder. you tell yourself that it’s the remnants of alcohol in your bloodstream allowing him to hold you without feeling your usual fight or flight mode.
yeah, a moment of weakness. again.
you weren't surprised that everyone had trudged their own dead bodies into your house to crash for the night. if anything, you expected it. before you got picked up, you did a little tidying to make sure the place wasn't too much of a mess.
nancy and jonathan got the sofa bed, while eddie was already out cold on the floor beside them. robin snuck into your room and stole a set of clothes to change into. by the time you had readied yourself for bed, she was already sound asleep under your sheets.
you head to the kitchen for a glass of water before bed. it’s only your luck that steve’s there, too. your place wasn’t that big to begin with.
“you’re still up? thought you’d be as dead as eddie by now,” steve’s head nudges towards the snoring rockstar.
“and you care because…?”
“i don’t,” he clarifies, “just an observation. you did a lot of head moving. assumed it would knock you out or somethin’.”
you stifle a laugh, filling your water glass.
“firstly, it’s called head-banging,” you turn off the sink, “secondly, stop noticing things about me. it’s weird.”
“well, it’s hard to ignore it when you were all over me the entire night.”
your ears burn, eyes flickering quickly to the living room. everyone—dead asleep.
“oh, please, steve. you wish,” you deny. what’s the harm in a little gaslighting?
he clicks his tongue, body facing you from across the kitchen. the space wasn’t big.
it felt like dangerous territory.
“so you expect me to believe that you weren’t purposefully rubbing up on me all night?” he steps closer, your heart skipping a beat. “that you weren’t affected by my hands on you?”
you grip the cup tightly with the fingertips so harsh, you’re afraid you’ll crush the glass. you place it on the counter.
“that you didn’t almost come in the car from just grindin’ on my dick like a dog in heat? with all our friends to see?”
it was embarrassing how hot you felt. your neck and face were practically steaming from how pathetic he made you feel. you hated how much his words affected you—you wanted nothing more than to prove him wrong.
he was close to you now. dangerously close. like he was inches away from touching you and seconds away from creating that familiar bubble around you two.
“i’ll forget it all. pretend nothing happened. if,” and then, in that low, sultry, dangerously seductive voice of his, he gets real close and whispers, “you tell me you weren’t wet the whole time.”
his words go straight to your core. heat blossoms in your belly, while your mind goes blank. suddenly, you forgot your little gaslighting game, because nothing with steve felt fake. it’s all real, even if it was temporary and just for the heat of the moment.
“i-i wasn’t,” you lied straight through your teeth. you’ve never been a great liar under pressure.
“liar,” steve says, reading your mind “you’ve always been a terrible liar.”
“stop noticing things about me,” you seethe like your heart didn’t just halt at the thought of all the other things he might’ve noticed about you.
“tell me you’re unaffected. that you’re not completely turned on right now, and it’s all gone. i’ll walk away mindless to your existence,” steve places a caging arm on the counter behind you, forming the infamous bubble you feared. you still had room to leave, yet you stay still.
your legs tightened, stiff from attempting to contain your arousal. you refuse to give in to another moment of weakness. but your lack of a response was telling…
“cat got your tongue?” steve taunts, head tilting in mockery. without a thought, your hands fly to his chest to push him back. but you don’t. they remain flat on his toned body, tensed and fisted into his shirt. a small smirk dabbles on his lips.
“i’m…” you start babbling, “we shouldn’t do this—we can’t.”
his facade drops for a moment. a crack.
“why not? we both clearly want it,” he admits like it was easy for him. like it costed him nothing.
“we?”
“yes, ‘we’,” he scoffs, “and clearly you need it.”
“i don’t need—”
“anything from me—yeah i know. but this,” steve leans in, nose brushing your cheek, “this you need. just once.”
and your body molds into his, consumed by his touch. it’s slow and torturous, like the car ride. but eventually, his lips land on yours. he nips on your lip until you invite him in—which you did not allow easily—and then his body is pressing you into the counter.
his bulge in his jeans is more prominent from the fabric of your sleep shorts compared to your skirt. you sighed into his mouth, legs automatically spreading to accommodate.
you hated how easily you gave into him…but god, your body does need this.
his hand finds its familiar home on your hip before hoisting you up onto the counter. steve slots himself perfectly in between your legs, caressing your waist and moving down to your thighs. his lips cascade down your neck, bruising kisses and harsh sucks.
you can’t help but moan, hating how good it feels.
“w-who knew you had a good mouth when you’re not talking?” you try to whisper, but something of a whimper escapes you.
“shh,” he hushes you with that pinching warning on your waist. it shoots straight to your core, clenching in anticipation. “wouldn’t wanna get caught fucking your least favorite person, huh?”
you groaned as quietly as you could. his hand makes its way to your inner thighs, teasing you torturously.
“cut the stalling. it’s like you want to get caught!” you grip his collar.
“impatient, needy…what’s next?” he teases, hand finally petting your pussy through your sleep shorts. he tsks, “fucking liar.”
you were pathetically soaked for him.
“all excited and wet… just waiting to be fucked,” his finger dips below the hem, “bet you’ve been like this all night, huh?“
you mewl at the bare contact of his fingers touching your sopping cunt for the first time. all the build-up and waiting felt worth it as his rough tips circled your clit just right. you outright whimpered, a delicate and weak sound escaping you that made me you vulnerable. your body curls into him, heat flushing your skin.
“well, look at that. completely fucked and we’ve barely started,” steve’s all smug and rosy-cheeked as he slips a finger into your soaking heat. “jus’ stretching you out. you know what they say…”
you groan at his words. he was such a fucking narcissistic asshole most of the time, but you know the rumors had to be somewhat true when it came to his sex life.
“such…an…asshole,” you manage to mutter at a reasonable volume level without alerting the entire house that you’re messing around with steve harrington in your kitchen. what a nightmare sentence turned into such a pleasurable moment.
“god, you’re so fucking tight,” he inserts another digit, pussy clamping onto him, “i’m gonna wreck you…yeah, we’re gonna have a lot of fun.”
lowkey a cliffhanger lolol but this was only meant to be a blurb soo anyway hope you angels enjoyed!!
update: why were there soo many grammar errors like this is why i don’t write at 2 am and post without proofreading - mind you it’s currently 3:45 am :)
summary: flash forces peter to sneak into the girls sorority and steal a pair of panties as a dare. stumbling into the nearest room to save himself from being caught, he doesn’t expect you to be there, and to let him steal the panties you’re wearing.
request: yes!
words: 5.1k
warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering, oral], praise kink, slight dacryphilia kink, dirty talk, and protected sex), language, alcohol, mentions of weed, and a bit of fluff.
note: frat!peter x sorority!reader / peter masterlist / PART 2
—
“are you serious right now, flash?” peter groans with a pinch to his nose. his eyes screw shut in annoyance at flash’s obnoxious behavior.
“of course i am, penis parker!” flash shouts, shoving peter towards the large, white sorority house. “you have to do the dare or else.”
peter groans again, hating himself for ever agreeing to do this stupid game with flash.
the night had started calm and for once, peter was grateful. friday nights were the craziest day at the frat house, but this week, everyone was a bit too busy with schoolwork. except flash apparently.
like all of his other roomies, peter loves a good party. he doesn’t mind thrashing his house every week if that means he can have fantastic parties at his place (okay, maybe he minds a little bit. it gets tedious cleaning up garbage after a while). he knows he won’t be young forever, so what the heck, right?
people never would have guessed that peter was the leader of the frat. shocking, right? everyone would assume it’s flash for his obnoxious and party boy persona or brad for his attractiveness and charm. but what do those qualities have to do with being a leader? everyone else (besides those two) agreed that peter should be the head of the house because he is responsible and smart, unlike those boneheads.
peter often asked himself if he was attractive and if he had charm.
he did, right?
brad was good with the ladies. one glance and a wink made the girls melt into puddles at his feet. every morning when peter woke up early to go to class, a different woman would waltz down the stairs with a glowing, uncontrollable smile in nothing but a t-shirt. peter knew without a doubt that every one-night stand that stumbled down was brad’s; it was rarely flash or the others and ned had a girlfriend who was in the sorority across from us.
peter hooked-up once in a while. he found it more difficult to be like brad when he had college to concentrate on and lives to save inbetween it all. being spider-man in high school was overwhelming at first because it was impossibly hard to hide it. but now, having more freedom in college made everything a bit simpler. just a bit.
flash being spider-man’s “#1 fan!” still made him chuckle every time it came up.
speaking of flash, when peter stumbled through the door in the evening expecting a chill friday night, flash just had to crank up the energy. as per usual.
“what is this?” multiple bottles of liquor were splurged across the dining table when peter walked into the kitchen. flash crossed his arms with a huge smirk plastered onto his face, while ned looked concerned and stressed.
“i tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen to me,” ned shook his head in disappointment before walking away to his room.
“we’re having a party. it’s friday, penis,” flash said with an obvious tone. peter could easily have him removed from the frat, being the leader and all. yet he still keeps him here. why must he do this to himself?
“flash, i said no parties today. everyone is tired and stressed, and has a lot of work to do—”
“stressed? i think that’s the best reason for a party. you need to get laid, my brotha,” brad interrupted with an arm around peter’s shoulders and a firm pat to his buff chest. brad is way taller than peter, which some might think intimidates him. but peter is mainly intimidated by intelligence, and brad had the iq of a stick.
peter rolled his eyes at the predictable statement. flash rambles on about how parties are a tradition on friday nights and peter sharply cuts him off with a strict tone.
“ugh, fine! no party, party-pooper parker. but we will be drinking tonight. or else i’m sending an invite to 50 people.”
—
peter had no choice but to comply. flash, ned, brad, himself, and the other boys are seated on the furniture with the drinks displaced in the center. flash gave peter an ultimatum; play truth or dare or he rings the entire sports program of a party. peter growled and folded.
soon later, there is a sharpie drawing on flash’s ass, a ruler that measured brad’s dick, a flushed ned from downing too many denied truth shots, and laughter bubbling throughout the whole room. peter is the only one who hasn’t gotten asked anything yet and he honestly feels a bit left out. but he also just wants to do his homework and then go to sleep.
“what’ll be, penis parker?” flash inquires with a mischievous look on his face. “truth or dare? or should i say drink or dare?”
peter, not caring at the time, chose dare. “dare.”
“oh, you’re so in for it.”
—
so in all, peter was basically held against his own will to sneak into the girl’s sorority house. even though he denied the dare profusely and took three shots to make up for it, flash still dangled the party invites over his head like an iron weight waiting to drop.
peter snarled as flash nudged him again impatiently. he thought of an idea that might work. peter would have to do this dare, but would he have to do it alone?
“if you come with me, i’ll give you $50 bucks—” peter sells with raised eyebrows. he licks his lips as the cold breeze rustles the trees and sends slight shivers up his arms. the sky is pitch-black as the heavy clouds cover all the stars. peter felt a storm brewing and he really didn’t want to sneak into the sorority soaking wet.
“pfft, parker, please. i have enough money—”
“—in weed.” peter finishes, causing flash to halt his words. peter knows that flash can never find a good supply because he complains about it all the time. marijuana wasn’t legal on campus, let alone in the state. the trade had the cogs turning in flash’s head.
“alright, deal,” flash gives in and elbows peter as a form of agreement. then flash motivates brad and ned to join, heading straight for the zone as a group.
their goal was to grab a pair of underwear and leave without being caught. as spider-man, that should be easy, right?
—
for some odd reason, the back door was unlocked. you’d think girls would be more secure and observant than guys, but maybe they forgot. after hopping over the trimmed gardening hedges, the four boys crept through the door and into the kitchen.
unlike peter’s frat, the sorority girls had two big rules that they made known to everyone; no hook-ups allowed and no frat guys. ever. the girls didn’t throw parties like peter, they only went to them, so their place was like a holy sanctuary.
when the guys tiptoed into the kitchen, peter wasn’t surprised the place was damn-near spotless. most of the interior was pearly white; couches, love-seats, tables, counter, cabinets— it was like walking into an insane asylum with minor color accents.
it was at least midnight by now, so the girls had to be asleep. tiptoeing as silent as possible up the stairs, peter leads until they’re all standing in the middle of the large hallway with rapid, contained breaths. flash, being the scaredy-cat he is, follows last and nervously trips over the final step. he slips, tumbling down multiple levels with nosy thuds and bangs of his elbows and knees. all of the guys sprout wide eyes and strained, silent gestures to warn him to stop falling and making an absurd amount of noise.
peter gets goosebumps, hair rising on his skin as he gets a shiver down his spine. his hearing intensifies, picking up mumbled whispers and light footsteps with his spider sense. his eyes wander frantically as he scatters his brain for an idea. nothing comes to mind fast enough, as a door down the hall creaks open. brad and ned drag flash up the stairs, but freeze when they hear the door. out of instinct, peter sprints to the nearest door, slyly slipping inside. he closes the door gently, contradicting the pounding of his heart, without a noise being made. he releases a sigh as his forehead rests on the doorframe.
“what are you doing?” peter nearly shrieks when you casually question him. he stares at you, eyes impossibly wider than before. your arms are crossed as you sit on the side of your bed. peter swallows harshly, gazing at your appearance.
your legs look smooth and supple, and very much bare. he assumes you have underwear on under the t-shirt you’re sporting, and is proved correct when you shift to dangle your legs off the bed. his eyes are drawn to the small sight of your panties that tease underneath your shirt. you smirk, arms still crossed as you let him check you out.
“i-um-uh,” cheeks wildly red, he swallows and averts his eyes to the ground. how does he explain such a stupid thing without sounding like a jackass? i was dared to invade the sorority house. sorry. oh, also, can i have your panties? “it was a dare.”
“to sneak into my room?” your head tilts as you lift yourself off the bed and stalk towards him. peter’s cheeks grow redder while his heart pounds brutally in his chest.
besides the embarrassment flowing like blood through his veins, you were the simple kind of gorgeous that made his knees weak. the kind that is stunning in their own skin and that radiates beautiful energy like magical fairy dust. and peter nearly fainted when he saw your lack of clothes.
he’s seen you many times before; you share a class with him and came to some of his parties. he never talked to you in fear of rejection, but now he doesn’t really have a choice.
usually, he has more confidence with girls, but this is a very unfortunate situation where he lost every skill he’s ever known. even talking.
“no—” ear-piercing screams interrupt peter’s stuttering from the other side of the door. footsteps run all over the wooden floor as low profanities leave the guys’ mouths. “i think she found them.”
“you think?” you clip with raised eyebrows. peter inhales, losing some of his anxiousness at his thoughts of the boys being caught.
poor ned. betty’s going to kill him.
flash deserved it, though.
brad is probably getting one of their numbers.
peter shakes his head and sets his thoughts straight.
“okay, look. flash dared me to do this… stupid thing and i convinced them all to do it with me. i wanted to do nothing but relax tonight,” peter admits with a stressed exhale. you glare at him with squinted eyes, trying to decipher what has him so worked up. it’s not like he got screamed at and kicked out like the other guys. knowing some of your roomies, they might be a lot worse than just kicking them out. you get closer to him and ponder what he said.
“what was the dare, parker?” you shoot a harsh glare at him, daggers that force him to answer. your head tilts with curiosity as your heartbeats sporadically. you’ve never had a guy in your room before, and for that first guy to be peter parker has your heart bouncing around your chest like a boomerang. you’ve had your eye on peter for a few months now; not crazy obsessive, but you won’t deny the blood-rushing crush you’ve grown for the frat boy.
how did you stumble that low? a frat boy? jeez.
peter can’t be too shocked that you know his name, let alone his last name, but you saying it still causes him to forget some of the words on his tongue. many shouts are heard from outside the door, but your chests are nearly touching as you gaze up at him and then the outside world is practically silenced.
“i had to steal some… panties,” he mumbles, voice low and quiet. why does it sound so dirty?
“panties?” you repeat in a hushed voice as your surprised eyes blink a few times. you swallow, clit beginning to throb at the word out of his mouth.
“yeah,” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “do you have any that i can…borrow?”
your mind hazes at his question. you tried to remember where your underwear was and if it was clean. but as a clear opportunity lies in front of you, you decide to run with it. you look down with a racing heart, fingers gripping the hem of your shirt.
“i…i have these ones,” you lightly ball up your t-shirt, revealing your laced panties to peter. he quietly coughs, cock starting to harden behind the zipper of his jeans. you glance up at his reddening expression through your eyelashes, devilish eyes hiding behind an innocent facade. confidence and lust ease your anxiety. “will these work?”
“um, yeah,” peter coughs again as rosy embarrassment crawls up his neck and blood rushes to his cock. you strut over to the mattress, rocking your hips teasingly, and peter instinctively follows with his heart in his throat. you lie on your back and spread your legs, arousal dripping from you at every movement. peter watches from a side angle, holding his breath as the tension rises.
“well, you’re not much of a panty-stealer if i just give them to you. come and steal them, parker,” you say with as much confidence as you could muster up. your heart was so loud in your ears you almost couldn’t hear yourself. speechless, peter walks to the front of the bed and kneels down, eye-level with your pussy.
he crumples the shirt over your hips, your legs automatically spreading wider. his senses heighten and pick up on the scent of your arousal. a small patch of it can be seen in the middle of your underwear, sending painful pulses down to his forever hardening cock. his thumbs dance around the laced hem, teasing you to see how much he can go.
he would say some of his confidence is back now.
he hooks his fingers under the band, sliding the flimsy fabric down while sticky arousal slings to you. he stuffs the damp material in his back pocket. both of your hearts rack and hands tremble at the extreme intensity, waiting for someone to do something. anything.
peter decides to be that person and resumes his fingers to your hips where the hem used to be. your folds glisten with pent-up arousal, just begging for him to touch you. your puffy clit throbs, neglected, and your thighs subtly spasm trying to remain open. peter grinds on his molars, nearly moaning at the glorious sight. his rough pads trace your smooth skin as he drags lower, dangerously close to where you’re yearning for him.
“peter,” you whisper, holding your breath, so you don’t move a muscle, even though they’re involuntarily shaking with need. he hums, the dirtiest thoughts flowing through his mind. “d-don’t you have to go? what if you get caught?”
“i can spare a few minutes…” his gaze is hazy and distracted, voice gravelly with lust. you clench desperately around nothing as you quietly plead for him to do something. his thumb tests the waters and finally begins circling on your clit, sending electricity up your body. you yelp at the sudden pressure, naturally grinding your hips for more friction. “hmm? don’t you want me to spend a few minutes with you?
his words are taunting and condescending, making your mind go blurry while the words disintegrate from your tongue. the rough pad of his thumb rubs faster while you clench around nothing again, chest heaving.
“i want more than a few minutes,” you moan as his middle finger pets along your soaking slit, teasing you painfully until your eyes roll back. you can sense the smirk growing on his face based on the satisfied hum he responds with.
“more? greedy girl,” peter slides his middle finger into you without warning causing you to release a long string of moans. “shh, you don’t want them to hear you, do you? then we’ll both get caught.”
you shake your head.
“then be a good girl and be quiet for me,” peter demands softly. you nod shakily, as another finger pumps into you rapidly. he thrusts brutally into you, fingertips brushing over your g-spot. you melt as bliss laces throughout your body.
“it’s always the quiet ones who are the loudest,” a devilish and dirty smirk dances on his lips while your teeth sink painfully into your bottom lip. you slap your palm over your mouth to remain quiet as thrilled moans threaten to pour out of you. your revolving hips are halted by his strong forearm, allowing him to curl his digits deliciously into you. you mewl with screwed eyes, back arching at the immense pleasure.
“i’m so close, peter,” you whisper, scared that if you speak any louder your moans will betray you and alert the whole neighborhood. peter subtly grinds his hips into the front of the mattress, cock dangerously hard from your whimpering and whining.
“can i taste you? been dying to since you opened your legs for me,” peter asks while your thighs tremble and your pussy contracts tightly around his digits. you mumble out a shuddery please before his mouth is devouring you.
he never removes his fingers, pumping ruthlessly while his mouth explores your slippery folds. he sucks harshly on your throbbing clit, a muffled wail escaping through your hand. warm and soothing, his tongue glides curiously and sneaks into your undeniably soft cunt. the moan you release is unholy and way too loud. at least right now.
peter wants nothing more than to hear your sweet, sweet moans crying his name while he makes you come in several different ways. but tonight was not the night. he wasn’t trying to get reported and have intruder as a new notch on his belt.
he had a good feeling you wouldn’t run off and report him though.
the idea of it all got him off much more than he would have ever thought. and looking at you, he could say that same.
his mouth plops off of you, lips swollen and puffy from sucking.
“come all over my tongue. let me taste you, sweet girl,” his tone is euphonious and seductive, yet demanding. his fingers savagely thrust into your seeping hole that clenches tightly around him. your back arches off the mattress as your thighs shake from the upcoming euphoria.
peter’s words send your body into overdrive. your muscles contract and your stomach tightens as your orgasm ripples through your body like a heavenly wave. cum oozes out of you and onto his tongue, slurping up every ounce of your juices until there is nothing left.
“such a good girl,” peter praises while he licks away your arousal from his rosy lips. heat crawls up your neck at your sudden vulnerability. you attempt to close your legs to hide, but he keeps them spread with his rough hands. “you’re going to hide yourself after i just ate you out? we’re just getting started, baby.”
peter pulls his shirt off deliberately, showcasing his bulky abs and muscles that made your clit pulse with desire again. he looks like he was man-made, a real-life sculpture with chiseled muscles and perfectly ridged abs. you were insatiable to this man, who snuck into your room to steal something— you should be mad at him. furious. but when his boxers fall down his legs, only dirty and needy emotions and thoughts are left.
your eyes widen at his impressive length; you’ve only been with a few guys in the past, but none of them were this big. you were scared, yet excited to feel his cock stretch you out sinfully. you imagined how long you would feel him inside of you afterwards, soreness like a good workout at the gym.
“you’re so big,” you mumble, not hiding the fact that you were blatantly eyeing his raging cock with hunger, fear, and lust.
“it’ll fit. don’t worry, doll,” he hovers over you, smoothing your hair away from your worried eyes. “do you have a condom?”
you stretch out your arm into your night stand, blindly grabbing a tin-foiled package. you seductively rip it with your teeth, causing peter to groan in impatience. he snatches it away from you and swiftly slides it onto his sturdy cock.
“such a fucking tease,” he hisses, running the tip of his cock along your folds, which were already soaked in arousal again. “are you ready?”
you nod your head surely, more than ready for him to fill you up.
“you’re one to talk,” you sass, rolling your eyes, which were no longer as worried, but full of needy anticipation. he huffs out a single chuckle, eyes strained on his dick rubbing around your wetness tediously.
“speaking of talking, don’t,” peter thrusts into you savagely, making you gasp and shriek. your hand immediately goes to his shoulder for leverage, nails digging desperately into the meat of his skin. the other tightens securely onto your mouth to keep quiet, even though it’s probably useless now.
hoarse profanities fall from his lips as he shifts around your snug hole. your velvety walls choke his cock so fucking good, he doesn’t think he’ll last any longer. and then you clench even tighter around him, sending peter’s eyes rolling back into brain.
“you’re so fucking tight,” peter groans in your ear, flicking his hips upwards into you. your body trembles in overwhelming pleasure, muffled whines begging to be released.
slapping skin and hushed moans fill the air. peter fits a hand between the two of you and rubs your throbbing clit perfectly. his lips travel down from your ear to your neck, kissing along your skin. his tongue discovers your soft spot, sucking harshly until you’re clutching onto him for dear life.
“you’re so good, peter. so deep, too, oh god,” you can’t help the lusty wail that tumbles from your raspy throat when he rapidly rolls his hips, repeatedly touching your sensitive g-spot. he growls at the praise, every action being intensified by the comment. you notice this and smile with a hint of devilishness behind it.
“you may be smiling now,” peter pants, muscles popping and flexing from the position. “but you’ll be crying soon.”
if possible, his thrusts got harder. and deeper. and faster. he was pounding into your cunt like there was no tomorrow, buckets of arousal leaking from you and all around him. peter would pull his cock fully out just to slam it back in, and it made you wither away into another dimension. his balls beat against you harshly with every brisk thrust of his body. his skilled thumb pets your clit, electrifying all your nerves into blissful flames.
there was so much to feel; the biting of his kisses on your neck, the rough texture of his thumb pad on your clit, the long, thick length plunging barbarically into you, and the heaviness of his weight above you. you were so overwhelmed by the pleasure, water brimmed at your tear ducts. soon, full-blown tears are streaming down your face from the euphoria running through your veins.
that familiar wicked smile curls on peter’s face with your appearance; wild hair, tear-stained cheeks, and swollen lips. he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked so beautiful in front of him.
his cock twitches when you whimper loudly underneath the palm of your hand, begging to let you come. contracting on his shaft, your nails stab his shoulder blade until crescent moon marks appear. a strangled moan leaves him when your body rolls up towards him, back arching harshly.
“need to come. so bad, peter,” you whine. his name from your lips drives him mental.
“fuck, y/n,” he sighs heavily. “come around my cock like the good girl you are.”
with those words, your second orgasm tumbles through your body like a thunderstorm. peter slams his lips against yours to keep you quiet, all your pent-up moans turning into needy hums in your throat. stars spot in your vision and you thought you might pass out from being fucked into oblivion. you wouldn’t even be mad— it was worth it.
summoning all your energy, your muscles tense as the liquid floods out of you. your back arches, making your bare breasts push up against peter’s chest. at the same time, peter comes with a string of curse words against your plush lips. he shoots his load into the condom, balls tightening while his eyes screw shut. he steadies his pumps and slowly pulls out of you, never wanting to leave.
you whimper at the emptiness, already missing his cock. he ties the knot and tosses it into the garbage under your desk. peter slips into his boxers and immediately finds the small box of tissues on your night stand. grabbing a few, he cleans you delicately like an antique doll as if he didn’t just ravish your body and soul.
you were beyond dumbstruck as he wiped you up. the few people you have been with never stayed long enough for aftercare, and even though it should be a necessity, the action still made your heart lurch for peter. speaking of your heart, it was beating a mile a minute. sex was a physical activity, yet having a huge crush on someone felt a lot more physically demanding. but you really liked the feeling.
a million thoughts brisked through your head; how does he feel? does he feel the same? did he hate it? did he love it? you shake your head. if you didn’t stop yourself, you would ruin any chance you might have by overthinking too much.
when you refocus your eyes to the moment, peter has his jeans fully on and his shirt in his hand. he slides it on and then looks at you worryingly, seeming as though you’re still naked and haven’t moved.
“are you okay? did i go too hard? fuck—”
“yes—i mean no! shit,” you stutter after interrupting him and close your eyes in embarrassment. “yes, i’m fine. i’m more than fine. that was… really good, peter. like really good.”
peter’s tensed shoulders relax as his face melts from a concerned expression to a soft one. you slip your large t-shirt on and stand up from your bed. your legs are a bit unbalanced and wobbly, and peter can’t help but chuckle as he holds you steady by your hips.
“stop laughing! you did this!” you whisper-yell with a faked angry face.
“oh, i know. next time, i’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk, let alone stand,” he winks with an arrogant smile cascading his lips. familiar heat creeps up your neck and ears, making you all tingly inside at the idea of a next time with peter.
“next time?” large rings of hope surround your irises as you stare into peter’s. his arrogance slightly fades as he itches with nervousness.
“yeah, if that’s what you want, of course,” why is he holding his breath? why is his heart beating so unhealthy fast?
“if i say yes, does that mean you’re going to try to steal my panties again?” you try to hold back your grin as you joke, peering up at him with squinted eyes.
“are you going to let me steal your panties again?” he clicks his tongue with his all too familiar smirk. he loves your playful demeanor and your attempts to withhold a smile.
you pretend to think, really debating. peter can’t help but stare at you in awe. you were beautiful, and he regrets not approaching you earlier because you were… well, he didn’t really know you yet, but he wouldn’t mind getting to know you better. even if you told him to fuck off and never to see him again, he knew that he would never forget you or this night.
you push yourself closer to peter, chest to chest. you can both feel the rapid beating of your hearts through your shirts. however, you stand, gazing confidently at peter. he watches you as you lean right in like you were going to kiss him.
“mm maybe. you might just have to find out yourself,” your breathy words linger on his lips as you back away and casually get into the bed. you unfold the comforter and tuck yourself in, like you didn’t just give peter a semi-hard on in his pants.
suddenly a loud crash is heard from outside, alerting both of your heads to peer out through the window.
“my car!” flash cries so high-pitched and whiny, he probably woke up the entire neighborhood. peter isn’t surprised that one of the sorority girls destroyed his car because he deserved it. someone needed to humble him anyway. you both laugh behind the palm of your hands at flash’s girly scream.
with that, peter realizes that he has to go and that he no longer has any minutes to spare. flash, brad, and ned probably weren’t worried about peter while they were out-running the girls. but now that the girls had done the damage, the boys would soon realize peter’s absence.
“better hide your panties. this isn’t over,” peter walks over to the side of your bed and kisses your forehead delicately. he cracks open the window, turning to you with half his body out. with a wink from him and a gasp from you, he jumps down the two-story window without hesitation. your heart flutters at his gentle kiss that lingers on your skin, fingers pressed against the spot his lips last touched.
rain begins to splash on the glass as sprinkles of water drip into your room through the open window. you purposefully don’t close it, even when you know the carpet will get soaked throughout the night. you welcomed the idea that if peter wanted to come back, he could, simply by sneaking through the window the same way he left.
so many other thoughts cloud your mind, making you lie wide awake. you wondered if his heart was still thumping hastily like the rain pattering on your window and onto your floor. you wondered what he looked like when he was drenched in natural rain water. probably breathtakingly beautiful; soaking wet hair and a childish smile adorning his rosy face while he laughs wholeheartedly.
as you roll over to turn off your lamp with a wistful sigh, you remember that you never even got his number. while trying to guess which set of numbers fit peter parker the best, you fall asleep with a yearning heart, flapping its wings adoringly in your chest.
oh, god, you were down. and it was bad.
what you didn’t know was that peter was down too, but even worse than you.
summary: after the forbidden and surprising night of the ‘break-in’, you couldn’t get your mind off of peter. luckily, he couldn’t either, and finds his way back into your bedroom to invite you to a party.
requested: so many times yes!
words: 11.2k!! woah
warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering, slight oral, masturbation, vibrator], praise kink, degrading kink, slight exhibitionism, dirty talk, and protected sex), language, mentions of marjuana/alcohol, and fluff
note: this was the most anticipated and loved of all my writings! i’m so thankful for everyone who liked part 1, i just had to write a part 2. enjoy!!! sorry if the gif is all weird again
—
so many thoughts flew through peter’s mind as he swung through the streets of massachusetts: what homework or projects he might have, you, class, praying flash doesn’t do anything stupid while he’s gone, you, hoping ned doesn’t have a panic attack from flash’s idiocy, and you you you.
he thought of your body and the way it felt underneath him while he pushed himself deep inside of you. and the whimpers you let out as you came. and the sound of your laughter through the palm of your hand. and the smile on your face as he kissed your forehead. he wished he had kissed you longer. he wished he had stayed longer. forever.
was that dramatic? maybe.
you were a recurring thought that never seemed to cease from his brain.
peter sees you around school sometimes—only on the days you two have class together. neither of you made an effort to approach the other, almost as if you expected the other person to do it first. you both sat far apart from each other, too afraid to move seats around and make it obvious. but peter’s gaze fell heavily over your shoulder too many times for you to not feel it.
every time you shifted around to face the back of the room, you watched him avert his wandering eyes to anywhere but you. it made you smile and giggle quietly behind your hand, and of course peter’s hearing picked up on the angelic sounds, causing his heart to skip against his ribs.
and then class would begin and you’d have to wait until next class to see him again.
peter wanted to go see you—talk to you. he really did. but he was so busy with school work and being spider-man that he didn’t have a night off. mid-terms were coming up, but that also meant thanksgiving break was in the rear view mirror. after halloween of course.
in college, halloween was like any other day. you didn’t get a day off to trick-or-treat and hang out with your friends. instead, you were given a pile of tests the week before.
not much of a treat, huh?
outside of college, however, people threw the best parties that night. one of those people obviously being peter. luckily, halloween was on a saturday, so everyone would be done with mid-terms and ready to party their asses off.
flash needed everyone and their mom to come for him to be satisfied (well, maybe not their moms). he’s going to blow up everyone’s phone telling them to invite every person they know. peter didn’t care who showed up. he knows that halloween is one of the biggest parties of the year (besides fourth of july). peter only wanted—no needed—one person to be there.
—
knowing it’s been weeks since he’s seen you and the party was only in a few days, peter had to come and see you. he had to make sure you got the invite. it was difficult to fit visiting you into his schedule, but like always, he made it work.
you were becoming important to him, a priority.
he would only be in and out because who knows what would happen if peter was caught in there? last time, flash got his car hit with a baseball bat. flash was so mad that he completely forgot about peter’s dare, even though it was the whole point of sneaking into the house. it was deserved, but peter didn’t want any of that happening to him. so, peter promised himself no funny business unless you were in his room.
ugh, but peter really didn’t want you around the frat boys. they were way too much.
the sky was pitch black besides the hint of stars that were sprinkled in the sky. it was a chilly, fall night that made peter want to cozy up and pass out in his bed. but he had more important things to do first.
after a boring night of patrol, peter sneaks into his room through his opened window. without making too much noise (unlike flash), he quietly changes out of his suit and packs it into his closet in a box labeled books. peter is certain that no one, especially flash, would ever open that box. so he fixes his appearance by adjusting his shirt in the mirror, checking his teeth, and messing with his wild hair. on impulse, he throws on a cap to better hide himself. with that, he jumps out his window once again, shutting it closed on his way down with his sticky fingers.
like he’s done once before, peter sneaks across the street to the forbidden sorority house. he stares at the windows; all darkened bedrooms, except for one. peter wasn’t one hundred percent sure that that single lit bedroom was yours, but he was willing to test his luck.
for you.
peering at his surroundings, peter flips his hat backwards and slowly crawls up the side of the house. his fingers latch onto the windowsill as he very slowly lifts his head over it. he notices that it’s slightly cracked open before his gaze is seering through the glass.
you have got to be fucking joking.
your body lays sprawled across your bed as a delicate hand wanders between your parted legs and slides your infamous panties to the side. your torso is covered in the same mit t-shirt from that night, draped over your lavish figure tantalizingly. a laptop plays a pornographic scene of some sort, headphones plugged in one ear.
god, he wanted to touch you so bad.
he wondered if you were thinking of him. recalling how his fingers caressed down your body and how they touched every inch of your skin. but you couldn’t be, right? it’s been weeks and peter hasn’t made a move. you’ve probably moved on from that night like nothing happened. peter should probably go, leave you alone during such an intimate time—
“mm, peter,” your angelic voice hums a quiet moan that was only loud enough for peter’s hearing. peter feels his cock twitch needily at your noises, hissing to himself as you whimper his name. “feels so good.”
well, that’s just like a goddamn invite.
using every skill he has learned from being spider-man, peter yanks open the window and creeps inside. you were too emerged in your fantasies; eyes screwed closed as you listened attentively to the ongoing video. you failed to notice peter’s looming presence over your bed, even with only one headphone in. your noises continued, spurring peter’s next actions on.
without saying a word, peter lays his hand over yours, which is rubbing cute circles over your clit. your movements freeze and your eyes fly open. your mind doesn’t register the sight before you, so your breathing stops and your lungs get ready to scream out every millimeter of oxygen in you. but peter slips his other hand over your mouth before you could alert the entire neighborhood of his presence.
peter could sense the erratic beating of your heart as your tense muscles very gradually soften once you realize it’s him. once you’ve calmed down enough to not scream, you take your free hand and lower peter’s from your mouth.
he came back.
“p-peter, i didn't know you were coming,” you weren't sure what to say. your mind was still spinning like a top toy and your heart was beating like a galloping horse. your skin was burning underneath him, full of embarrassment and immense desire. “a head’s up would have been nice…”
“i’m sorry for the interruption…” peter says, eyes dragging down your body. his hand moves above yours gradually. you inhale sharply as peter guides your hand.
“you don’t seem sorry,” you retaliate as the friction from your hand with the help of peter’s begins to rile your body up again. you feel the wetness seep from your cunt, aching and needy for more. for more of him.
“how come you’re so wet?” peter completely ignores you, and removes your hand from your pussy with a gentle toss. peter didn’t expect anything tonight, but he especially didn’t expect to find his little angel with her hands between her legs. you gasp when his fingers are directly touching you, instantly clenching around nothing. his fingers are a bit chilly, in contrast to your flamy skin. “is it from the video?”
“n-no,” you stutter between needy pants as his fingers threaten to sink into your pulsing hole. your legs spread wider for him, inviting him closer to you. you slam the laptop down with shaky fingers to show him that you no longer need it.
“then what’s got you so wet?” two fingers dip into your cunt to persuade you to talk, but it’s doing the opposite. you bite your lip to hide the traitorous moan that threatens to escape. heavy arousal coats your labia while he pumps in and out of you easily, waiting for an answer.
“i was thinking of you,” you admit, hips rolling into his touch greedily. “wondering if you’d ever come back.”
peter’s heart saddens at the thought of you waiting for him. this whole time peter assumed you forgot about him, when in reality, it was the exact opposite. and there was sticky evidence to prove it.
“i’m right here, angel. what were you thinking about?” his body leans down hovering over yours, causing your body to sink into the mattress.
“thought about you climbing through the window, just like you did. imagined you’d fuck me, like you promised,” you moan quietly between words, trying to sound cohesive. hearing you say such vulgar words has peter’s cock twitching in his pants. with peter, you weren’t afraid to be straight to the point and tell him what you want. peter admired that, and would probably do anything you asked him to.
“with time, i’m a man of my word, baby.”
close and personal, peter interlocks his lips with yours. your frolicking hands drift to his warm neck, caressing the nape as you melt into him. peter inserts a third finger into you, eliciting a muffled moan against his lips. the action opens up your mouth and allows peter to effortlessly glide his tongue inside.
his fingers ram into you at a deliriously fast pace, causing your mind to haze into a euphoric state. it was impressive how peter could be kissing you unforgettably, but also skillfully pleasuring you with his hands. peter seemed like a man full of secrets and skills that you were dying to know.
who is peter parker?
fogging up your mind, your muscles tense and your back continues to arch until your stomach is touching his. your legs threaten to close from the overwhelming pleasure from his fingers, but you battle to keep them wide. his mouth trails down your neck and attacks the sensitive skin below your ear. teeth digging into your lip, you withhold all of your noises that peter so desperately wants to hear.
“if we were alone, you wouldn’t be allowed to be quiet,” he husks in your ear before trailing further down your neck. his voice was every level of attractive, pushing you closer to the edge. peter continued to check off all of your invisible boxes of turn ons.
“i know,” your voice was delicate and strained, and peter could tell you were close.
your walls gripped his fingers eagerly, and your stomach tightened up. it was embarrassing that you were so close so fast, but you couldn’t hold it any longer. once his fingers curled one last time inside of you, you were a goner.
“come for me, baby,” he demanded quietly, so you did.
your orgasm washed over you like a tsunami, drenched in blissful euphoria. peter worked you through your high by softly rubbing your legs and coaxing every last drop out of you until you were sensitive to the touch.
without having to ask, peter lowers himself to your mound and yanks your panties down and off your legs. he then cleans up your mess with his skillful tongue, licking and slurping all of your juices. your sensitivity causes you to be squirmy, but he’s done before you know it and then you’re left reminiscing.
although he was right in front of you, you missed his touch already. you missed him inside of you because it made you feel connected, intertwined. you didn’t want him to leave you again for weeks and come back on a random week day. or even worse, never again at all. you hoped that it didn’t become a pattern because you were getting attached to him, whether you liked it or not (you did), and that wasn’t a healthy pattern to be attached to.
peter’s body hovers over yours once again, held up by his muscular arms. your eyes attach to every detail on his face, admiring and memorizing his features in fear that he’ll leave again. he gazes at you like a living daydream, ethereal underneath him. one of his hands caresses your supple cheek, lightly swiping away your frisky hair. you practically purr into his touch, melting at his gentleness.
“peter,” you start, voice as fragile as thin glass.
“y/n.”
“please, don’t leave,” you insist in a whisper, hoping he’d stay. but you know he can’t.
“you know i can’t,” he says as you begin to sit up. see?
“when will i see you again? you can’t just… show up at any time,” you huff, sitting up straight as peter takes a seat beside you.
“i know i know…” peter thinks for a moment before reaching into his pocket. “here. you can put your number in my phone.”
your heart skips a simple beat. you extend your arm to snatch your phone on your nightstand before hesitatingly grabbing peter’s. you switch devices and enter your numbers. you label your name as ‘y/n :)’ and then you trade back phones, but don’t look at them.
“c’mere,” peter says and you curl your body into his. his warmth was addicting and cozy, and could easily make a great pillow for the future. “i’m sorry for not coming back sooner. i’ve been pretty busy with… everything i guess. i should’ve told you.” with your head cradled in his chest, he kisses your rumpled hair genuinely.
a sweet apology. could he get any better? is he just a figment of my imagination?
you lift up your head so you could see him looking down on you. “apology accepted, parker. but i feel like i’m being manipulated with your kisses.”
“how was i supposed to know you’re a sucker for forehead kisses?”
“everyone is a sucker for forehead kisses!” you whisper yell causing him to laugh wholeheartedly as quiet as possible. he kisses your head a few more times, making your heart full of affection and care.
how did you get lucky enough for peter parker to fall into your life? or more specifically, break into your house on two accounts?
“you never fulfilled your promise,” you said, referring to him having sex with you. don’t misunderstand, you were very grateful for what he gave you, but to be direct… you were greedy, needy, and missed his dick.
no time for beating around the bush.
“like i said, with time, i’m a man of my word,” which, in other words, means he’s not having sex with you. tonight, at least. you can’t help the small frown that appears on your lips.
“how much time? a girl has needs, you know,” you rose your eyebrows and pointed towards the closed laptop. peter puffed under his breath, causing you to smirk.
“there is a party this saturday… at my place. you should come,” peter informs.
“should i come or do you want me to come?” it was a test.
“if this is some sexual innuendo, yes—”
“jeez, get your mind out of the gutter, peter!” you roll your eyes and softly shove his chest, but a smile never ceases from your face. that only causes him to wrap his arms around you and squeeze you harder against his firm body.
he must live at the gym.
“you started talking about sex first!”
he’s not wrong.
“of course, i want you to come to the party, y/n,” peter smiles as his eyes wandering over every inch of your face. in any other scenario, gorging eyes would’ve made you feel insecure, but peter’s made you feel all flushed and tingly. “you’re the only person i want to be there.”
your smile enlarges even more and a rush of heat crawls up your neck. instead of kissing his lips for being such a romantic goofball, you decide to pull off his backward cap and kiss his forehead. the rosy blush that cascades his pale cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed.
“see! everyone likes forehead kisses!”
just as you say those words, peter hears footsteps padding across the hallway. he really didn’t want to leave you again, but he also really didn’t want to get caught. he sighs and you notice his change of demeanor, causing another frown to arise on your lips.
“you have to go, don’t you?”
“i’m sorry—”
“it’s okay. i’m glad you came. i’ll see you on saturday,” you smile genuinely and kiss his forehead again. he smiles, but catches your luscious lips instead. peter almost forgot about the footsteps, always lost in the moment with you.
he is obsessed with kissing you.
however, the moment is too short for both of your liking. peter struggles to pull himself away from you, but does because each footstep in the hallway is like a warning. with a finally kiss to your forehead, peter smiles endearingly before approaching your window, ready to jump out.
“oh, and peter?” as his hands are on the window, he turns around to look at you. “don’t forget these.”
you fling your panties at him and his quick reflexes have no problem catching them. you take his hat that he left on your bed and lay it on top of your head. peter cannot describe the fond feeling that bubbles up in his chest at the sight of you in his apparel. he’s sure he would die seeing you in his clothes if he’s starstruck from you in his cap.
a familiar heated flush blossoms on his cheeks as he lightly shakes his head with a few chuckles.
“you’re ridiculously cute,” is the last thing he says before he slides out the window and jumps down onto the ground.
ridiculously cute. you’ve never been called that before. are you surprised that you like it a lot? nope.
you still don’t understand how he doesn’t break a few limbs from jumping out of a two-story house, but again, that’s just one of the many things he’s skillful at. you wondered what else he was capable of. like you said, he seemed like a man full of secrets. some people thought of curiosity as a curse, but you saw it as a pathway to unknown opportunities.
not even a minute after peter left, there’s a knock at your bedroom door. you answer, skeptical, and one of your friends walks in.
“i know we’re not allowed to have any guys here, so you get kind of lonely, but when you’re watching porn at midnight can you please turn it down? i could hear it at the end of the hall,” she rubs her eyes and elicits a yawn. your eyes widen and you swallow thickly at the idea of the entire house hearing you.
you really thought you did a good job at being quiet…
“uh, yeah, sure thing,” you half smile as you apologize and wish her a better goodnight. you flick your lamp off and shift comfortably on your bed.
you gaze at the ceiling and imagine peter’s face above yours. you envisioned his lips, his cute nose, and each precious beauty mark on his face. it was easier to fall asleep knowing what his phone number was, and that saturday was only three days away.
—
those three days could not have been longer. the party was your motivation to wake up every day and go to class, eager as ever. you only saw peter once at school and that was not enough to satisfy the yearning you had inside of you. that yearning was also like an alarm clock that sprung you out of bed at eight a.m. on saturday.
you knew you had hours to waste, so you did all the things you had been procrastinating on: laundry, tidying up, few assignments due next week, and you even dusted parts of the house. yeah, you were that bored.
you weren’t sure what time the party started, but you would probably be able to tell from your window. you had no idea what you were going to wear even though you were thinking about it since wednesday. you believed you had a good sense of style, at least to your liking, but you don’t have all the clothes that you wish you had. living on a college budget wasn’t easy, but you made do.
at this point, it was only two in the afternoon, and you were about to run into the wall until your head was bleeding just to waste more time. this was the downside to having a ridiculously big crush on someone; the inescapable waiting. when crushing, time seems prolonged when you’re without them. but when you’re with them, the world seems to stop completely. it’s like nothing matters but just you two.
you remembered back to wednesday when peter was sitting on your bed and holding you snug against his body while you talked about such a mundane thing like a party invite. you could never erase the feeling of his kiss, his lips forever etched onto yours. the kiss felt like hours, but it was merely a minute before he had to pull away. you imagined what it would be like to just be with him without worrying about anything else. these daydreams cause the yearning in your chest to expand like a balloon, which is never going to satisfyingly explode until you’re in his arms again.
without making a big deal out of it, you needed a good outfit. so, you knocked on one of your “sister’s” doors. you weren’t a fan of the term “sorority sisters,” especially because none of these girls felt like sisters to you. yes, you were all decent friends who went to parties and went out to eat once a month together. but you weren’t as close to them as you were with your friends back at home. you missed them, but you’ve all moved on with your lives.
violet answers with a cheery come in and you walk into her room. you hint that you’re looking for a nice dress for the party tonight.
“i’m glad you came to me first,” she smiles as she stands up from her bed. she heads toward her closet, which is practically pouring out clothes that would laugh at yours. she had so many colors and choices, it was almost overwhelming and you weren’t even the one really choosing. “so. who’s the guy?”
“what? who said anything about a guy?”
“the fact that you want a nice dress for a frat party. you’ve never cared before, so it has to be a guy. so who is it?”
“it’s no one in particular,” you lie easily as you sit on her bed. she sifts through each dress in deep thought.
“so, you want a nice dress to catch any guy’s attention? i don’t buy it,” violet shakes her head, causing her long, black hair to wave.
not that you really care if she believes you, but what’s a believable lie? you know she’ll probably nag you about it the entire night if you don’t give her a valid excuse.
“if i’m being honest, i’m trying to, you know,” you raise your eyebrows high, motioning your hands as she whips around to face you. she nods as a knowing smirk grows on her lips. you weren’t technically lying–you did want to get laid, but you only had one person in mind that could do the job.
“i see. that’s all you needed to say,” she flips through more dresses before pulling out a short red one that makes your eyes widen. it looked nice, too nice, and you didn’t want to ruin anything she had because you’d probably spend the next few months paying to replace it. “let’s get you ready.”
“but the party is in–”
“nuh uh, we’re getting ready now. also, we’re making it into a costume.”
–
for once, you’re glad you listened to violet about getting ready early because it was already six o’clock by the time you guys were both finished. you somehow gave in to the idea of her dolling you up into some kind of sexy spider woman? you didn’t really know. she thought the red and blue accented your skin nicely. violet did what she wanted. you didn’t even plan on wearing a costume in the first place, so you didn’t really mind.
your hair was down and wavy. you had her short red dress on and white fishnet tights. she also gave you royal blue heels. she painted black webs on your eyes with eyeliner while you wore a matching red lipstick. it was a lot more than you expected to see on yourself when you looked in her vanity mirror. hopefully, the look is as attractive and alluring as violet says it is. meanwhile, violet dressed as “slutty catwoman” (her words, not yours).
and yes, violet was going. everyone at mit would be going. it was one of those annual parties that's been going on for years, even before your class was there.
you enjoyed that; traditions and routines. they created memories and showed the change through each generation. thinking back, you bet your ancestors would die of a heart attack if they saw the way you were dressed and the things people did at these parties. but none of those thoughts stopped you from leaving the sorority house and walking across the street to the frat party.
you hadn’t even walked in yet, and the music was booming throughout the neighborhood. through the blinds that failed to close, you could see the technicolor lights flashing in redirection. cars of every shade were parked for probably miles down the street, and you knew as the night went on the number of people would only increase.
violet walked in front of you, strutting through the door like she owned the place. you followed behind her almost cowardly, but you weren’t really looking for everyone’s attention anyway. just one.
however, you forgot that the whole reason violet believed you were wearing this dress in the first place was for that exact reason. so, when she realized your shyness, she turned around and shook all your nerves out of you. literally. she shook your shoulders until you were woozy and nearly stumbling over your heels (you are now wishing you wore sneakers). it was like you were already tipsy by the time she was done.
she dragged you towards the kitchen without any words, seeming as though you wouldn’t be able to hear them over the blaring music and loud chatter. bottles of liquor decorated the marble countertop along with blue and red solo cups, trashed like a 90’s high school movie. violet grabbed the first bottle she saw, pouring the dark liquid into a cup she somehow snagged.
“your turn,” she shoves the bottle and cup towards your body as a stranger bumps into you from the back. the place was getting packed, making it hard to find anywhere to breathe. “some liquid courage.”
“i’m okay. i will later, though,” you rejected, not liking the idea of being drunk when you had a goal in mind. by the end of the night, you really wanted to be in peter’s bed. but you hated the idea of being drunk while having sex, especially when you wanted to enjoy it. you only indulged in drunk sex when you really needed to get off and one; didn’t want to remember what happened, or second; didn’t want it to last longer than that night. mostly the latter.
you know what it feels like to be with peter, and you craved to feel like that again. just thinking about him made you feel a thousand different kinds of wonderful; heart racing, stomach swirling, core burning. you knew the second you found him it would be hard to keep your hands away.
–
peter finally decides to shuffle down his stairs for the first time tonight. when the roaring music began an hour ago, he knew the party had, too, but he didn’t feel like going down yet. he couldn’t help but peek out his blinds in his bedroom, waiting to see you crossing the street.
he swears he was in his bedroom for at least an hour, occasionally peeking out the window, impatiently waiting for your arrival. with a slight frown on his face, he realizes that you might not be coming.
why would you?
peter assumed that you just now noticed how creepy it was for him to sneak into your bedroom. twice. maybe all your smiles and kisses were just silent pleads to make him leave the room faster. but your laugh seemed so genuine, and the sweet, little noises that you muffled under your palms were from real pleasure. right?
you were moaning his name.
he imagined you strutting across the street in a jaw-dropping dress, one that would send him into a frenzy. but you would be too humble and would shrug it off like you were the most average person on earth. peter would scoff and take you into his arms and drag you up into his room. then he would admire you until you believed you were the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen.
open mouth kisses etched on your naked body. bites and pinches of tease. your sweet hums and delicately broken moans. nails clawing into his tough skin greedily. his voice guiding and praising you while yours is disheveled in pleasure.
god, he’s so in his head. he’s so far gone. and he barely knows you.
like a daydreaming idiot, he slaps the side of his head a few times to get his brain back into reality. he stares at his appearance in the mirror, silently motivating himself to have a good night whether or not you show up.
taking a deep breath, he finally exits his bedroom. of course, the music is booming and the place is already as crowded as a concert. peter trails down the stairs, but stops midway when he sees the top of your head.
is that you? how did he miss you?
moving swiftly down the steps, he weaves his way through the crowd, his fake glasses nearly slipping down his face. multiple people try to stop and chat with him, but he doesn’t indulge for long, having a clear destination in mind.
but, just when he reaches the kitchen, you’re gone.
he swears he just saw you. maybe he’s going crazy.
releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding, peter pushes through a few more bodies before reaching the sliding glass door. he squeezed himself outside and inhales. when you’re in a house full of sweaty, drunk people smoking weed, you become more grateful for the fresh air.
he removes his glasses and tucks them into his neckline. his eyes gaze at the backyard’s minuscule decorations, and then to the sky. he stares at the stars as they wink at him, reassuring that everything will be alright. he wishes that the town won’t need saving tonight and that everyone will be on their best behavior. he hopes that you’ll come to the party, even if it doesn’t end with you in his arms.
even though that’s all he really wants.
“peter?” a voice speaks, and the sound was so elegant and soft that he thought the stars themselves were talking to him. he forces himself to blink a few times before spinning around to face you.
he nearly faints when he sees your costume.
short red dress, white tights, blue heels, black webs. you were dressed as spider-man, or spider girl, and you looked absolutely fucking stunning. you would be the death of peter. seriously, he thinks he might pass out from lust and admiration looking at you. you were just so drop-dead gorgeous, he couldn’t believe it.
maybe the stars were on his side tonight. unless they wanted to kill him…
“are you okay?” your soft voice of concern walks straight up to him, delicate hand resting on his shoulder.
“y-yeah,” peter stutters before coughing. is it surprising that he’s already half hard? a small blush cascades his pale cheeks. “you look… really fucking good.”
there’s no dancing around it.
now, familiar heat warms your neck, cheeks, and ears at his compliment. his voice was low, so only you could hear it over the screaming music, and it was laced with a small growl that had your stomach flipping. your hand fell from his shoulder.
“thanks,” you couldn’t think of what else to say, but then you looked at his outfit, which was little to none. actually, he was wearing normal clothes. peter was probably the only person at the party without a costume. “i guess i had to go all out since you decided not to wear anything. it’s your party and you didn’t think to dress up?”
peter laughs, breaking any invisible tension that might have been there. god, you loved his laugh. it was so childlike and full of joy, that you couldn’t help but smile.
“i have a costume. hold on,” peter puts on his glasses.
“if you say you’re a hot nerd—”
“nuh uh, i’m a super hot nerd,” he then rips the buttons off half of his flannel, presenting the superman symbol on his chest. rolling your eyes, it was your turn to laugh. your hand covers your face at his silliness as you lean against the nearby wall for support.
“you’re such an idiot.”
“i can’t be a nerd and an idiot, angel.”
“somehow, you make it work,” you both chuckle with huge smiles on your faces, unable to look away from each other.
“hey, dickwad,” flash abruptly appears from the sliding glass door that you two were standing by. he was dressed as spider-man, which nearly made peter cry laughing out of irony when he first found out this morning, but he kept that to himself. “—oh, hey, y/n. nice costume! at least someone has taste.”
“superman is a great superhero—”
“whatever, dude. at least spiderman is real!” flash shouts before parading away, repeating the statement to his next victims that will hear him.
“what do you have against spider-man?” you ask, leaning against the rough wall by just your arm. you were too afraid to have the dress touch it, in fear of ripping or ruining it.
“nothing,” peter shrugs.
“oh, c’mon,” you shove at his shoulder playfully. “just say you don’t believe in him. it’s okay.”
“what! of course, i believe in him, he’s not santa claus.”
“oh my god, santa isn’t real?!” you pretend to be shocked, hands slapping your cheeks. peter lightly chuckles and rolls his eyes before nonchalantly grabbing your hand. your heart speeds up in your chest at his simple movement while your breathing halters.
and just like that he’s in control.
“do you want to get a drink?” peter’s thumb plays with the skin of your knuckles while he waits for your answer. but you can’t think of anything right now besides the soft caress being tattooed onto you.
“no, i’m not in the mood to drink tonight,” you replied, hoping that gave peter a hint at how you wanted the night to go. peter wasn’t as stupid as most guys, so you have high hopes that he understood the foreshadow.
“well, what are you in the mood for?” his voice was low again, speckles of lust wavering in it. he takes a step closer to you, and you can’t help but lay flat against the wall. you weren’t even thinking about the condition of the dress anymore. you swallowed as your stomach burned in anticipation.
“somewhere quiet,” your eyes flickered between his darkening eyes and his pink lips.
“it won’t stay quiet as long as you’re there,” a cheeky smile rises up on his lips as heat floods through your body. you hit his shoulder lightly, embarrassment flushing your cheeks.
following him and his contagious smile, peter drags you through the crowds of people. there were more people in the house than when you arrived, but you’re not surprised. the upstairs section of the frat was basically off-limits to most people, unless you really had to go to the bathroom and the downstairs one was taken. you’ve been to the house a few times, but you’ve never stayed long enough to go upstairs.
but tonight everything is different.
unlike your wooden floors, peter’s are carpeted, so you’re walking very carefully on your heels. when you reach the top step, your calves are slightly burning from the exercise.
looking both ways, peter leads you towards his bedroom at the end of the hallway, hands intertwined. it felt secretive, and a part of you liked it. he closes the door right when you got inside, locking it quickly. but while he’s doing so, your hands release from his to explore his room. he rushes to clean his messes books.
peter had a gray and black color scheme that was alluring. his dark gray sheets looked soft and plush, and you could imagine yourself sleeping in them every night. were you getting ahead of yourself? maybe. you barely knew him, but you felt like you’ve known him forever. you glance around his room some more, trying to get to know him.
he had two band posters; led zeppelin and guns n’ roses. you didn’t expect the second one, but it impressed you. his desk was scattered with textbooks and papers like he had just been studying. turning around you see his two-mirror closet. it was slightly ajar, letting you see a few boxes.
“what’s in the boxes?” you ask, slowly creeping your way towards them. you don’t miss peter’s eyes widening slightly and his cheeks heating up. now you have to know.
“n-nothing important,” peter scratches the back of his neck, and if he’s trying to hide something, he’s doing a horrible job at it. on the sides of each box were black handwriting.
“trophies and medals,” you read aloud, inching your way towards the door, “books—”
“y/n, don’t!” peter exclaimed nervously with a hand reaching out to stop you, causing you to turn around and eye his expression. he swallowed thickly, praying you didn’t open the box. his anxiety was at an all time high. “there’s… personal stuff in there.”
“okay, okay. you don’t want anyone to know you have sexy magazines,” you rolled your eyes and huffed out a chuckle. “i get it. i’m not jealous.”
“yeah…” peter’s cheeks don’t cool down, still red and warm. for some reason, he senses the awkward tension arising in the atmosphere around you both, and he doesn’t know how to tame it. you both know what you want now, but it’s hard to bring it up without being so forward.
“did i tell you that you look good in glasses?” you speak after the few seconds of silence. you get yourself comfortable on the edge of his bed, unstrapping your heels from your already sore feet. you groan. “feels so much better.”
“thanks,” peter joins with a never-ending blush, sitting next to you. he’s itching to touch you.
why was it so much easier when he broke in?
he turns to face you and stares at your eye makeup. you had little black webs on the corner of your eyes. for some strange reason, the idea of you dressing up as him really turned him on. even if you didn’t know it was him.
“peter,” you said a bit breathlessly. your heart was racing with anticipation and lust. he hadn’t even noticed you were staring right back at him. you could look at each other for hours, but you really wanted more. needed it. subconsciously, you were both leaning forward towards your lips.
“yeah?” peter’s gaze never faltered. his honey brown eyes darkened to black.
“i brought something for you,” his eyes shifted from your lips to your eyes, curious.
“it’s not even christmas yet,” he smiles, “and what’s that?” you leaned closer to him, your lips hovering over his ear.
“it’s a surprise,” you whispered seductively, grabbing his hand and placing it on your thigh. he doesn’t hesitate to rub the supple skin covered by fishnet, warm and smooth.
when you pull away just the slightest, peter crashes his lips to yours. the kiss was as passionate as your feelings for him, erupting your anticipation and nerves in small gasps. he shifts you over to his lap, so you’re straddling him. instantly, you buck your hips into his crotch, desperate for more than a heated kiss.
your heart is thrashing in your chest and there’s a familiar burn in the lower part of your stomach. your hands roam his brown hair, exploring his locks like it’s new territory. except it’s not. you’ve never felt like you’ve known someone so well without even knowing them that well. the chasing, the waiting, the wanting, the needing, the wondering—it was the strangest feeling, and you were addicted to it.
you pop your lips off of peter, puffy and pink. you both take a second to breathe before you start kissing down his neck. you’re not shy with your teeth, leaving marks on his tough skin that’s shielding layers of muscle.
when you get to his collarbone, you nearly whine because he still has his flannel and shirt on. you swear you’ve never been more horny or desperate in your life.
“relax, sweet girl,” peter reassures, petting your hair while you look up at him. “we have all night.”
just tonight? you thought. what about the other nights? and days?
after a soft sigh, you nod and begin unbuttoning his flannel. your hands are a bit shaky from all the anticipation and the rapid beat of your heart. of course peter notices.
“are you alright?” he questions softly, being the caring guy he is.
“yeah, just nervous, i guess,” you answer honestly because he makes it easy to. he’s comforting and he cares.
so why are you nervous?
but instead of asking you why, he says, “me too.”
after you undo the last button and gently remove his flannel, you delicately smile at him. it was so pretty, peter couldn’t help but smile too. you tug on the end of his superman t-shirt, and he yanks it off. and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to his immaculate figure. it was sculpted to perfection, as if he was given his body from some drug. or maybe even the gods.
his hand raises to caress your supple cheek, causing you to stare at his face before he’s kissing you again. it started off sweet and gentle, like how peter saw you. but it didn’t take long for it to be rougher and full of lust. peter could feel his jeans tightening underneath you, and he wasn’t stupid enough to confuse the scent of your arousal with perfume or something.
trying again, your lips go to trail down peter’s neck again. his breath is wavering our sighs of pleasure as you lick and nibble his skin.
“gonna tell me that surprise?” peter asks, hands crawling up to the back of your dress. he’s sure to be careful as he drapes the straps down, the top slowly sliding down as you make out with his chest. you push peter’s body down so he’s laying flat on the bed, not answering him. “not gonna answer?”
you weren’t. you didn’t have time for all the things you wanted to do with him. all the things you wanted him to do to you. maybe you were too far gone to think it would take more than a night to be fulfilled by peter. more than two. more than a week? maybe a month. you’d keep going until you’re sick and tired, but you don’t think you could ever get sick or tired of peter parker.
lost within the feeling of his body, you barely comprehend when he flips you dramatically over. his hard body hovers above yours, your dress barely hiding your peaked nipples.
“i ask you a question, baby,” he husks, breath fanning over your skin and traveling toward your ear. a shiver scatters up your spine and a spark of lust fires in your clit.
“you have to wait and see,” you answered breathlessly, a smirk rising on your face.
a dark color covers his eyes. peter doesn’t like not knowing something, so he’s desperate to figure out your little “surprise.”
with little to no effort, violet’s dress is tugged all the way down your body. he tosses it gracefully onto his bedroom floor, but doesn’t pay any mind to it as he gazes over your body. he hasn’t seen you since wednesday and he was craving you like crazy. he thought he was going to go insane. but as he stares down at your figure adorning white fishnets sexily, he finally knows what it’s like to go crazy.
“is this my surprise? because, fuck, you look like a prize.”
you giggle as his rough fingertips trail down your torso. your nipples ache from neglect and the chilly october air that somehow breezes through the room. your body arches up into his touch, needing him badly. maybe you should just tell him the surprise.
but wouldn’t it be so much better if he just found it himself?
“can i unwrap my present?” peter teases with a cheeky smile, nudging at the waistline of your fishnets. you know that the second you open your legs he’s going to see your wetness leaking from the fabric.
“yes, peter,” you can’t help but laugh.
“do you care if i rip them?”
“what?”
“can i rip them?”
“i don’t—” the quiet sound of stretching and ripping cuts you off. he tore your fishnets. well, violet’s fishnets. “peter!”
“too late. i’ve never been good at unwrapping gifts,” he quickly kisses your cheek in a sweet apology, “luckily, i’m pretty good at taking care of them.”
you roll your eyes at his cheesiness, but can’t help but smile like a little kid. as he makes his way down your body again, he widens your legs and sees his surprise. your heart throbs just like your aching cunt.
“ah, so that’s my surprise,” he grumbles. it’s hard for him to keep it together right now.
peter stares darkly at the small purple toy peeking out from your bare pussy. you had no panties on, which in peter’s eyes, seemed ironic. from the top of his eyes, he sees the tiny smirk creeping up onto your lips.
his hand crawls up your leg until it reaches the soaking folds of your throbbing cunt. he pets your slit delicately, like you’d break if he fully touched you. you might. even from that simple touch, you were squirming underneath him, silently begging for more.
“how long has this been keeping you full?” he questions, curious, “is this what you’ve been using while i was gone?”
“mhm,” you hum when his fingers find your puffy clit, throbbing with desire. you leaked all around the purple toy, wetness gushing from you.
“look at you. fucking soaked. what made you this wet? was it the toy?” peter circles your clit faster, making your breath falter. you try to keep your eyes strained on him, but the feeling is just too incredible to focus on anything else. “answer me.”
“n-not the toy,” you stutter with breathlessness. a wavering moan elicits from you.
“then why are you so wet?” he taunts, and the low level of his voice floods over your body just right. you clench needily around the toy right in front of him, causing him to growl.
“you! nothing makes me wet like you do,” you admit head falling back on the pillow as his rough pace gives in. he’s satisfied with your answer, so he goes to a full, fast rhythm.
you’re so dazed with your orgasmic chase that your body rumbles as it nears. to make matters more intense, peter testingly pushes the small button on the bottom of the toy. it springs to life, vibrating your entire insides electrifingly. a broken moan escapes your swollen lips, and you just pray it’s hidden behind the heavy beat of the party music.
your legs shake in his hands as his head lowers. you’re so close to your high and then he does even more? you swear you were going to explode.
his challenging mouth sucks harshly on your clit, devouring you like you were his last meal on earth. instead of the bed sheets, your hands find their way to his soft hair, tucking the roots with triumph.
you’re breathless and you’re close. so, so close. you can see your orgasm in front of you like a sunset and you’re riding straight into it on a horse.
“peter!” you cry when he nibbles on your clit, a smirk pressed against you. it was nice to release your moans without having to muffle them down. your core tenses like never before, overwhelmed by the extreme pleasure. “i’m coming—oh, fuck, please let me come!”
“go ahead, sweet girl,” he pops off of you and replaces his mouth with his thick fingers. “give it all to me.”
so you do. you release every tension within you that was holding you back. with eyes screwed closed, your back arches from the high. the wetness squeezes out of you while peter eases you through it. he switches off the vibrator and puts it somewhere besides you on the bed.
he lowers his head to clean up the mess with delight. when he comes back up, the grin on his face is toothy and contagious. you reflect it back, wondering how you got so lucky. how were you lucky enough for your intruder to be peter parker?
“you okay, angel?” peter asks, thumb caressing your heated cheek bone with concern. you’re melting into his touch, hoping to be a part of him forever. you wouldn’t mind.
“yeah, just… thinking.”
“good or bad?”
“i’ll tell you later,” you smile as you recall all the small thoughts you have of peter. peter rolls his eyes dramatically as your hands rub down his chest.
“but… i was wondering if i could be on top? just wanna try it. i need it,” you stare into his eyes and patiently wait for an answer. you’ve never been on top before, but with peter it seems like it would be really fun.
“i don’t know. do you want me to die?”
you laugh, forcing you to look away from his brown eyes. you push peter off the bed until he’s standing and ask him to take off his pants. when he’s completely naked, he goes to lean against his headboard, ready for you to sit on him. you crawl over to him as he puts on a condom from his bedside table.
“ready, baby?” he massages your upper arms.
“you’re being too nice, peter,” you note as you throw your legs over his hips. you didn’t actually know what you were doing, but confidence is key. if you just pretended like you knew, it would look like it, right?
“what? do you want me to be mean, baby? ‘cause i can be mean.”
“don’t think you’re really capable.”
“we’ll see then, doll,” peter says deeply as his hand grips your hip tightly.
as you slowly lower your body with peter’s guidance, you feel his tip enter you. it was a different feeling than being on the bottom. you had more control, but you had to do more work. you’re not sure if you cared to have so much free reign. you kind of preferred when peter took the wheel.
you rocked your hips forward, feeling his hard cock fully inside of you. it was stretching you completely out. you couldn’t get up if you tried. there was a pain mixed with pleasure that filled you up so good.
“c’mon, y/n. fuck yourself on my cock,” he growled in encouragement as you attempted to lift your hips up. you barely move because you’re squeezing around his cock so tight, like if you let go you’ll die. peter lightly moans as you squeeze him, wondering if he’ll die right here inside of you.
“i-i can’t,” you whine.
“you can’t? thought you needed it?” he taunts. peter can be mean if he really wanted to,
“it’s too hard.”
“you’re not even trying. good girls at least try. don’t you want to be a good girl?”
peter thrusts up into you once to make you moan, which works successfully. you spit out your broken moan with your hands clawing his biceps.
“barely moved and you’re already moaning. pathetic, really. you asked me to be on top and you can’t even take it.”
you clench around his prick at his degrading words. you didn’t think he could be mean, but you were wrong. his words were just the right amount of degrading that made you weak and so, so wet.
“look at that. my girl’s getting off on words like pathetic,” my girl. the two words nearly cause you to come right then and there. then peter thrusts up into you with purpose in each movement. as one hand grips your hip, the other floats up to your breast and fingers your nipple. he flicks and tweaks at it, causing you to arch into his touch. “what about slut? do like when i call you my slut?”
“fuck, peter,” you groan at his dirty talking. with each pump, you would feel every inch of him inside of you, filling you up completely. although you’re so full, you needed it harder and faster, and it was going to be difficult to get it from this angle when you’re not being much help.
before the begging words even slip from your mouth, peter is flipping you both over with ease. he doesn’t waste a second to slide back into you, causing your body to erupt in flames.
he begins with hard pumps, slowly gaining speed. but once he’s going fast, you could barely focus on your senses. you swear you could hear colors.
the sounds of your moans, shrieks, and screams echo throughout his bedroom. you don’t care if people could hear you. you hoped they could. you hoped they knew how good peter was destroying you, so they knew you were his.
peter hoped the same thing.
“so, so good, peter,” your eyes rolled to the back of your head in ecstasy.
“yeah? such a slut for my cock, huh?” he teases, voice low and lustful. “so cockdumb that you couldn’t even ride me.”
“i-i can do it,” a breathless moan escaped you, but you were too floaty to understand what you were really saying.
“oh, now you can do it? well, it’s too late, sweetheart.”
peter’s pace doesn’t falter. he makes sure to make every thrust count as he hits every angle. you cry out in bliss, chasing your orgasm like your life depends on it.
“i’m close,” the whine that elicits from you is groggy and strained from how sore it feels. you can’t even imagine how raw it would be from taking him down your throat…
for another time.
his rough hand trails down between you until he’s pressing his hand down on your stomach. with every shift of his cock he can feel himself moving through you. as he puts more pressure, you both collectively moan at the feeling.
“can you feel me? can you feel me deep inside of your little cunt? do you feel me right here?” peter drags your trembling hand to place it on your lower torso, right where he’s nonstop thrusting into you.
“yes, peter! fuck, you’re so big. i feel you in my tummy,” you clamp around his cock, your orgasm right around the corner. “please, please let me come. i’ve been good.”
“have you? you couldn’t even ride me even when i let you.”
“i’m sorry, peter–please. need to so bad,” your eyes are squeezed shut as you beg peter. his hand that was on top of yours drifts down to your clit. he stimulates it by rubbing in tight circles that have you seeing stars. every muscle is in your body is screaming and pleading for release while he overstimulates you more. “want to be good!”
“yeah? want to be a good girl?” a needy moan elicits from you. “then come for me. right now while you’re squeezing me.”
the air surrounding you turned wistful and cloudy. your body rumbled and erupted as you orgasmed, shaking with desire as it poured out of you. you thought the first time that you and peter fucked was the best sex you’ve ever had, but after tonight, you’ve never been more wrong. maybe it’s because you two are a little more comfortable with each other. maybe it’s because you told him to be a little mean. whatever it was, it was the best fucking sex you’ve ever had. because it was more than sex. it felt like more.
peter’s orgasm trails yours, making sure that you come first. his thrusts were slowier and sloppier as he pants out heavy breaths. before exiting you, his hand reaches up to caress your face.
“okay?” his voice was a bit raspy as he came down from his high. his arms were on either side of your head, and you felt safe and protected.
“more than,” you smiled dopily at peter, whose eyes were twinkling. reflecting a smile, peter begins to pull out of you. “do we have to?”
“have to what?” he stops his movements, half-way out of you. you hated the empty feeling that started to flood over you because you knew he’d leave soon. well, you would leave soon.
“leave. can’t we just stay in here all night?” you question. a part inside of you was scared for his rejection, that he was going to kick you out and then that was it. but the other half of you had the courage to ask because you knew it would all be fine.
“i would–”
“oh, there’s a but coming.”
“but i need to eat. and so do you,” he pulls out of you and rids out the condom within a few seconds. you don’t move from your flat position on the bed, feeling the cold waves of loneliness flooding over you already. peter had a tingle that you wanted more. you wanted to stay, but you were too nervous to ask. you were good at giving him big hints, though.
he loves the idea of you staying. laying with you and hearing your soft breaths as you sleep. cuddling close to be warm from the cold air. peter’s heart lurches at the wonderful thought.
peter reaches for his clothes and dresses. you bend over and slip on the dress, without the fishnets. your hair was probably a mess, but you didn’t care because the only person you cared about seeing tonight was peter.
once you’re dressed with shaky hands, peter stands in front of you and rests his hands on your shoulders. delicately, he caresses your neck as you practically pur into his warm touch. you felt your heart rate pick up, even though he was just inside of you.
“and then, if you’d like, we can come back up here,” he presses his chest against yours as his voice softens, “and we can lay in bed, watch a movie, and not worry about being caught because we don’t have rules like you do.”
although your heart was beating fast already, you’ve never felt more comfortable. he made you feel reassured, and you couldn’t ask for more. with a smile rising to your lips, peter’s heart skips a beat at the wistfulness cascading throughout his body. your lips were soft and kissable, your skin was glowing with an orgasmic shine, and your makeup was a bit smudged, but you still looked like peter’s perfect girl.
his girl.
“wait, before we eat, i have to get some stuff at the sorority.”
“okay,” he says, “put this on. it’s freezing and your wearing practically nothing.”
he throws a hoodie at you and you catch it with blinking eyes. it as a small gesture, but your heart was melting. you slip it over your head without any question. and then he’s dragging you out of the extremely loud and crowded house. no one says or questions anything, and you’ve never been more glad to be so invisible.
–
“what are you doing? come on!”
“what if they see me?”
“there’s no one home!” you whisper-shouted at peter as you walked through the door. there was a key under the flower pot that worked great when you forgot your key.
it’s kind of ironic that you are both sneaking into your sorority. it’s a full circle moment.
you both tiptoe through the clean, white house. peter nearly takes his shoes off because he’s scared he’ll leave dirt footprints in his trail. he really does not want to be seen in this house knowing what happened to flash the last time they snuck in. but it’s peter’s job to be stealthy, so he hopes he could keep up the good work.
you make it up the stairs and head straight for your room. peter remembered exactly which one was yours, now that he’s been in it two times somehow. once you’re both inside, he shuts the door behind him quietly like someone would hear him.
“why did we just tiptoe all the way up here? there’s no one even here!” you say in a normal level voice as a chuckle follows after. peter laughs with you as you search your drawers for some clothes.
“i feel it’s only right to bring the mit one, right?”
“definitely.”
“wait, did you leave the vibrator on your bed?”
“uh… yeah. sorry.”
“peter!” your skin grows warm with the idea that someone might stumble into his bedroom and find it just lying there. you cringe at yourself.
you pack a small overnight bag with your most needed essentials. peter sits patiently on your bed, practically swinging his feet as he analyzes your bedroom. it was simple with a few picture frames of family and friends. your room was basically plain white with a few pink and blue items scattered around the place. in all, it was you. he couldn’t think of a better sorority room to fit your vibe, your personality better than this room. it was naturally gorgeous, like you.
even though peter was looking around your room, he was still watching you pack. he observed when you folded a pair of night shorts with the mit t-shirt and even threw in an outfit for the next day just in case you two went out. but you were missing something.
“okay, let me grab my toothbrush,” you quickly left the room and in no-time were back. “let’s go. i’m hungry now.”
“but you’re forgetting something,” peter says. you blink, wondering what you might be forgetting.
“but i grabbed everything–” you watch as peter glides towards your dresser drawers. he opens the top left and immediately finds your colorful panties and underwear. your eyes widen in embarrassment, even though he’s seen you naked multiple times. something about him staring at your undergarments was just a little more… vulnerable?
peter snatches two different colors, a royal blue one and a vibrant red one, similar to the first one he saw you in. of course, he picked these colors purposely.
“which one? i’m thinking the blu–”
“what are you doing! that’s my underwear!” you tried to reach for them dangling in his hands, but he was way quicker than you. it’s like he knew before you even moved.
“well, i think at this point it’s kind of a tradition for me to take one, no? i couldn’t take them earlier because you weren’t wearing any!”
your neck and cheeks flush with embarrassment. yeah, you may have been confident when in the moment, but talking about it just made your face hot. peter always knew how to get you going. to get quickly out of this situation, you grumble, “blue.”
and with that, you were on your way back to the frat house. the party was still going strong and surprisingly, no one asked where either of you were. when you and peter walked through the door, people just acted like you’ve been there the whole time. but they were also drunk and high, so was it really that shocking?
within the first few minutes of you and peter being in the congested house, you both look at each other with a knowing look. there was no way you two could eat in this populous, mess of a place.
“diner?” peter shouts over the blaring music. he swore flash turned it up to full volume, even when peter told him specifically not to do that.
“exactly what i was thinking,” you reply loudly as you squeeze your bodies through the crowd. peter slides his hand into yours as you shift through everybody. a spark of electricity nearly shocks you.
when you approach his car, you throw your bag at the bottom of your feet before dropping into his passenger seat. you both inhale and exhale the refreshing night time air. the house smelt like marjuana and sweat, but his car was scented with pine and fresh leather.
as he started the car, you two didn’t say anything. and it was perfect. it was comfortable. it was safe. you turn your head to look at peter, whose eyes were fighting between the road and you. your heart skips a beat that’s getting familiar as you smile softly. gently, your hands intertwine as you ride on to the diner.
your journey with peter started… differently than most. but you liked the idea of having a tradition with peter. sure, it may not be traditional, but it was yours. you would both have to create a fundraiser for all these panties he will be stealing because they’re not cheap!
is it really stealing if you know he’s taking them? whatever.
when people ask how you guys met, it’s going to be a funny story. how many people break into someone’s house as a dare and then fall in love with them? not many.
wait… love?
–
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. i could not be more grateful for the love on panty stealer. i never thought any of my writing would get this much notice, so thank you (times three) for all the likes, comments, and reblogs.
note: i won’t be making anymore full parts, however, i will do blurbs/drabbles of these two if requested!
summary: you and harry need to talk. so, you do. along with other things.
song: Fantasy- the driver era
words: 7.2k
warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [oral, choking], daddy kink, slight dumbification, mentions of voyurism/exhibitism [not clearly stated] and porn, protected sex, dirty talk!!), language, and a very blunt y/n.
note: i actually got a part two out not that long after the first part?? omg?? monumental moment here guys. enjoy! PART ONE!
secret pornstar!harry x secret pornstar!y/n
—
DaylightDaddy [verified]: What are you doing to me?
You were waiting by your computer for the longest sixteen minutes of your life. That’s how long it took Harry to watch your less-than-ten-minute video and then text you back. Your heart, which was still flat on the floor of your stomach, leaps excitedly when it sees Harry’s message on your computer screen.
That message alone verified to you that DaylightDaddy was indeed Harry. Of course Harry would bring back his infamous saying at a time like this. You wanted to ditch the conversation on this website and text Harry personally. You also wanted to go to his house and pounce on him for being ridiculously attractive and vulnerable. You were an idiot by not saying anything yesterday and he was an idiot by being so blunt and angry. You both could have ruined not only your friendship but your chances at being something more by not talking. Communication is key, yet you’re still locked.
Why?
Maybe because somewhere in the dark crack of your heart, you’re terrified that you’ll be vulnerable to a man that’s six years older than you just for him to say that he doesn’t actually like you. He just likes your breasts and the idea of sleeping with you.
But that’s not Harry, right?
Without responding to his message, you grab your phone that has been forgotten on your floor. The second you sent that video to him you chucked it across the room and hoped for the best. It seems as though it worked, but at the same time, there is still so much unsaid with Harry. So many feelings you need to work out. But first, you need to talk and figure out how you both actually feel. Is it just lust? Is it just the fact that you two work together? Or is it something more?
Y/N: harry
He texts you almost simultaneously.
Harry: Y/N
Your fingers freeze at the keyboard. Even though you were just talking to him, how do you bring up such a serious conversation. We need to talk? Or I need to talk to you? They both sound bad.
Harry: Are you working today?
You and Harry both know damn well neither of you works. Him asking this question just seems like he’s continuing to avoid you, and avoid the inevitable conversation that you guys need to have. Did your video not spark a lightbulb in his head? How can he not tell that you do feel whatever he feels? Maybe even more…
Y/N: i am not, but i think you know that
Y/N: can we talk? are you busy?
You know he’s not busy, but that doesn’t make his reaction any scarier.
Harry: I’m free
Harry: Do you want to come over
It was one of the scariest texts he’s ever sent. After what just went down between you two, inviting you over could mean anything. It’s clear there’s a strong attraction connecting you both, but there is also a lot of murky water that needs to be cleaned.
Y/N: yes
Harry: Let me pick you up
That stubbornness inside of you that Harry is all too familiar with wanted to fight him. To tell him that you are more than capable of driving yourself, even though you only have Penny’s car for one more day. But him suggesting to pick you up showed his desperation to see you. And maybe that was a good thing. Maybe the forward action instead of the backing away was what you two needed.
Y/N: okay
Y/N: give me an hour!!
You needed time to think about it of course.
—
Within that hour, you were going crazy. You took a warm, hard-pressed shower in order to massage all the tension in your body and hopefully in your mind. You thought about every possible scenario about seven thousand times, hoping that you’d get it right. This time, you planned to say the right words and not stand there like a fucking statue when faced with his vulnerability. This time, you were going to be vulnerable too, because you’ve never had a chance at something more like this before. And you don’t want to ruin it just because you’re afraid. How lame is that?
While you were waiting for Harry to text you, you pace around the room. Your eyes averted to your computer that was still lying on your bed, and the only thing you could think about was your conversation with Harry. Not only had he called you attractive but he compared your beauty to everyone on the website and still said you were the most attractive. Was that just him flirting? Or was he being serious? You wondered if Harry really felt that way about you and you hoped you would find out soon.
On that thought, you never even checked if his money went through. You know the second that it does you’ll be giving it right back to him. So, while you’re still waiting, you open up your bank app on your phone. Even though you’re sitting on your bed now, your leg is still bouncing up and down, anxiety infiltrating your blood like the most insane drug.
When you finally comprehend the number that is present on your screen, your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. You blink a couple hundred times before briskly checking your most recent transactions. In neon green letters an extravagant $2000+ appears in front of you. Your hand jaggedly and slowly finds its way over your agape mouth, bewildered at Harry’s extreme act. What on earth would cause Harry to willingly send you that much money? Yes, you have complained about your financial situation, but you also clearly denied Harry of a loan. Now, you have to send his money back and it’s going to be really awkward. Another thing you have to add to your list of “Things to Talk Through with Harry”. Just as you close the app, Harry texts you that he’s at your place.
–
“Hey,” You manage to cough out as you slide nervously into his passenger seat.
“Hey,” Harry replies with a thick swallow. His grip on the steering wheel changes from intense to loose every few seconds before he starts the car.
There’s a low hum on the radio along with his air conditioning blowing cool air towards you. But other than that, no one had said a word. You peek over the dashboard a few times to see the road, wondering how far Harry lives from you and how quickly you can get out of this car. You hoped when you got to his house that this unbreathable, anxious tension would have died down, so you two can finally sort this shit out.
As a few more minutes pass by, you realize that you hate this. You hate the awkward silence that’s dawning over your friendship and making you overthink every single word. It’s never been like this with Harry, ever. You’ve never had to second-guess your late-night conversations and he never had to restrain his friendly charm. This, this tension, is unlike both of you.
You have to talk. Maybe you should mention the money?
“I know y’want to say something. Just say it, please, I can’t stand this awkwardness,” Harry blurts out as he stops at a red light. You inhale and blink, suddenly feeling a bit more alive with the sound of his voice.
“I looked at my bank,” You said, looking down at your lap. You were already being shy and you haven’t even got to the actual vulnerable stuff yet. What is wrong with you?
“Have you?”
“Yeah, and I saw the money you gave me.”
“Good.”
“Harry, you know I can’t take that,” Now, you turn your head towards his, which is safely facing the road. But you know he sees you and you know he’s stressed with your stubbornness.
“But you already did. It’s in your account, yeah?”
“Okay, but–”
“I don’t understand why you won’t take my money. Is it not good enough for you or somethin’?” Harry’s voice has become more agitated, making his last turn a bit sharper. You see him take a deep breath as he pulls into a driveway of a nice house. It was nice because the lawn was green and cut and the color of its walls were a pleasant cream color with a smooth navy blue as its border. It wasn’t the biggest house ever, but Harry was more practical than that. He didn’t need some huge, showy house in order to seem cool. Harry was already cool, whether he knew it or not.
“All money is the same, you doy.”
“You didn’t want it when I said I could loan it to you. Then I found a way to give it to you because you earned it and you still won’t take it. How does that make sense?”
“That’s different!”
“How is that different?”
“You of all people should know!”
Harry groans out of frustration and gets out of the car. “Let’s just get in the house.”
You follow suit, shutting the car door a little more roughly than you thought. Before you know it, you’re in his house and it’s just so Harry. His furniture is smooth; all browns and woods. He had pictures of his family scattered along with abstract art. By his decently sized television is a large record player next to an impressive case of vinyls. He even has a miniature bookshelf full of books that would probably bore you, but it still fascinates you.
“What, have you never seen a house before?”
“Don’t get all snappy with me. We were supposed to talk.”
“You make it difficult.”
“Why? Because I won’t take your money?”
“That doesn’t help,” he crosses his arms before dropping to sit on his couch. Again, you follow him, but keep your distance. You don’t miss the way his house smells just like him; a homey breeze of fresh air with a sprinkle of nature. It was earthly and friendly and charming. Just like him. “But it’s your stubbornness.”
To be fair, your stubbornness is one of Harry’s favorite traits about you. But it’s also the one that gets under his skin the most. He admires the way you can stand up for yourself and you know how to get exactly what you want. But he’s noticed that your need for independence interferes with your other desires.
“I can’t help it. I was born to fight,” You sighed out, lying against the couch cushions. “At least that’s what my dad always says.”
“I don’t want to fight, Honey,” The new nickname has rows of shivers cascading your skin. You feel a tingle in your stomach that you get when he says something charming or flirtatious. It’s impossible to fight the butterflies and heart pulses he gives you.
“Me either,” You take a deep breath, just like you did in the shower and just like Harry did in the car. This was your time to be vulnerable, to be first. You wanted to show Harry that you cared and that you weren’t just being stubborn to be annoying. You loved when you guys would close together, even if you consistently told him you would do it yourself. You loved the late-night talks you would have while cleaning up the bar, talking about anything and everything in order to waste time. You were endeared that Harry always walked you to your car in the early morning after the doors were locked just to make sure you were safe. You missed the way his hands felt on your arms when he caught you and the feeling of his chest pressed closely to yours. Friends don’t crave like that. No, because you weren’t friends. You were more and you both knew it. You cared about him and you appreciated his care for you. Shit, you freaking liked him and it took you both revealing your secret identities to prove it. Even if you two haven’t technically talked about it.
“H…”
“Y/N.”
“Everything you told me that night. Was it true?”
There was a weighted beat. One that was long and heavy enough to shatter the earth.
“Yes, of course it was. Why would I lie about that?”
“I don’t–” You turned to face him. “I’m not…good at this stuff. I don’t randomly hook up with people or go on dates. I especially don’t go to their house after sending them a video of me orgasming to confess my feelings to them.”
Harry blinks. He didn’t think you would mention it so vulgarly, but maybe he doesn’t know you like he thought he did. But he would like to. He doesn’t sound like you’re accusing him of doing those things, more of just you warning him about yourself. Harry does extract the little hint of your words and uses them to interrogate you.
“Feelings. What feelings?”
“Well, currently I’m frustrated–”
“Y/N,” his voice of seriousness causes your eyes to drop into your lap. You fiddle with your thumbs like a nervous kindergartener on their first day of school. It wasn’t like you to get so shy. You were a bartender for a living; you couldn’t be shy. But you just haven’t reserved these types of feelings for someone in so long it feels foreign. It feels as though you’re stretching outside of your comfortable zone and forcing you to be sheepish with your eyes down.
“Fine. I like…our friendship. A lot. But this week made me realize that I want more than that. With you,” You peer up at him through your eyelids, hoping not to see his face cringe with disgust at your words. But Harry’s face is flattened straight with nothing but the intent of listening. He even has a sparkle of softness in his eyes that makes your heart lurch out to him. He cared, and it showed in his features. Your mom always told you that people’s real emotions were always revealed on their face, and it was written like a love letter over his.
His patient silence makes you want to fill it with some type of conversation due to the uncomfortableness with your sudden vulnerability. Skittishly, you swallow in an attempt to coat your dry throat. “But I haven’t got much further than that. I know that I’m attracted to you. I mean, fuck, you saw the video, right? I probably didn’t even need the bullet–what did I just say? That’s not what I wanted to say. I wanted to say that I don’t want this to just be an attraction because I don’t think I could handle that. That felt good to say. I think I’ve said “say” too much and now it sounds weird…”
“I feel that way too,” he replies, the smallest curve of his lip breaking the straight line. He adores the way you rant when you're nervous, it is now a new thing he is adding to his list. He loves making you nervous because you give him little details about yourself. “Thank you for finally getting the balls to tell me. Took you long enough.”
You didn’t expect him to say that. You didn’t practice that in the shower! “Me?! You were the one who was avoiding me!” You were shouting, but it was all fun now. A laugh followed as a bright smile crept on your face. Something like a weight felt lifted off your shoulders, off your chest.
“But who said something first?”
“You said you liked my breasts and that you get jealous easily. Doesn’t seem like you were confessing any feelings,” You jokingly roll your eyes as he scoots closer to you.
“Why would I get jealous if I didn’t like ya? Thought I made tha’ obvious.”
“Could have been more. Then we could have avoided this all together.”
“You probably would’ve just stood there with y’mouth open.”
Your mouth indeed falls open as he laughs, his comment causing you to gasp in joking offense. You take that moment to punch his shoulder, but his hand catches your wrist during the movement. Your laughs are halted when you both realize how close you are; your thighs were touching and his face was only a few inches from yours. The whiff of his scent gave you flashbacks to last night when he caught you and you were pressed perfectly against his toned chest. Thinking of his chest made you remember the videos you saw online and how addicting they were to watch, especially after you found out it actually was Harry. Now, you know how porn addicts come to be.
Unintentionally, you lick your lips while looking at his. You don’t miss the way he does the same, glaring at your lips like he’s starving and their his last meal. Your lips have haunted him ever since your first day; painted in red and screaming fierce. The way you smiled was mesmerizing to Harry, but you could say the same about Harry’s effortless charm. It’s been too long dreaming and imagining your lips on his own. Now, with everything out in the open–besides the whole porn star thing, which is for another time–maybe he can finally kiss those lips. Kiss them so well that he ruins any other man for you in the bar, in school, in porn, in life. Staring at your lips made Harry think crazy things. He can’t even imagine the filth his brain will conjure if he sees your naked body in real life.
He’s getting too ahead of himself.
“You smell good,” You whispered, forcing yourself to break the pressing tension. You two were slowly inching towards each other, so he could feel your words float over his own lips like a ghost. He hums at the feeling and the compliment. “Like a forest.”
“How long are we gonna sit like this until I can kiss ya?” The statement made your cheeks blaze with fire and your stomach tumble.
Clearly you were both done beating around the bush.
“I was waiting for you to ask! What if you didn’t want to? You know how important consent is too–”
But Harry doesn’t wait for you to stop your incessant rant. He smashes his lips to yours like he’s been dying to all this time. Your lips mush together, creating a warm, gooey feeling inside of your stomach. Harry releases your wrist and slides his hands down to your waist and carries you over to his lap. You gently bite down on his bottom lip seductively, causing him to groan against you. His rough hands pinch the skin of your hips, making you squeak in his mouth. He uses the opportunity to slide his tongue in, exploring your mouth like its new land on earth.
It’s been so long for you, you can barely remember the last time you’ve been kissed. But you know for damn sure it was never like this. It was never this fiery, this passionate, this wanted, this needed. Kissing Harry was like drinking water after being dehydrated; so obsessively satisfying, you can’t get enough. Until you drink too much and then your stomach hurts, but you doubt that will happen.
Harry can feel himself growing impressively hard underneath you. Even with you above him fully clothed has his body and mind going haywire. He’s not sure how far this is going to go, but he’s also not sure how long he’s going to last. Shit, if you even palm his bulge he might come.
And you thought he didn’t want this.
Your hands around his neck slide their way down his chest as his grip on your hips gets tighter. He pushes you closer, making you arch your back until your breasts are pressing against his chest. The abrupt movement causes the kiss to break, a breathless gasp eliciting from your swollen mouth.
“Jesus,” Harry huffs out.
“What?”
Harry ignores your question. “What do y’want?”
“You…? I thought I made that pretty clear–”
“Don’t be a smart mouth. Or I’ll put it to good use,” His threat sends a tingle straight to your core, which was covered by your soaking underwear. Just the idea of him forcing you on the floor to take his cock in your throat was erotic enough for you to get off of. Actually doing it might make you come on the spot. “What, you like that?”
“What if I do?”
“Then I can make it happen, baby.”
“But what if I want something else more?”
“Say the words.”
You hesitated. As a porn star, you’re pretty good with dirty talk. In the past, you have had no problem whispering sweet, seductive words. But Harry has your tongue tied, brain mushy, and body gooey.
“I want you inside of me.” You were straight-forward. Honest. After this whole ordeal with you two, you figured you both deserved some relief.
“I’ve been waiting too fuckin’ long for those words.”
Without wasting another minute, Harry lifts both you and himself off the couch. You make a little squeal sound before grabbing on tight to him so you don’t fall. When you somehow get to his bedroom, you’re gently tossed on his bed with a smile hanging from your lips. Harry climbs over you and immediately tugs the hem of your shirt.
“Please take it off.”
You did not need to tell him twice.
Harry did just as you asked as quickly as possible because you two were both getting a bit desperate. Like before, Harry loves edging and teasing and being in control. And one day, he’s going to do it all with you. But right now, he just needs to be inside of you, as selfish as it sounds.
Once he flips your shirt off, you’re brisk to clip off your bra. Goosebumps pimple along your skin in anticipation of what’s to come as Harry’s eyes flit over your body. He swallows harshly, mind swimming in a thousand thoughts that were all related to you. His searing gaze only makes you more flushed with heat, elbows sinking into the mattress while you wait for him to do something. You push yourself up and tug the end of his T-shirt.
“Well, what is it? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“‘Cause you’re really here.”
“That is so sweet, but please, fuck me first. I need it.” Maybe his searing gaze also gave you a newfound confidence that allowed you to say what was actually on your mind. His intense stare made you feel powerful. Like you were in control.
“Jesus Christ, we have to fix that mouth,” he growls as you slide off his shirt over his head while he kneels on the edge of the bed. You don’t even get another word in before he’s crashing his lips back onto yours in another heated kiss.
It’s not much different from the first one–maybe a little more sloppy because you’re both getting needy. Both your mouths are sloshed together with sparks tingling on your tongues. Those sparks are igniting flames within your souls, making the stress and yearning worth it. Everything felt worth it when you two were this close together.
With the same passion, Harry forces himself away from your mouth and down your neck. He’s not gentle with his teeth, nibbling with each peck of your skin he passes. Each nick injects excitement through your veins, turning you on more than you would like to admit. You already know that there will be little marks because your skin is so sensitive, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You actually are endeared by a bunch of little marks rather than a few huge ones. Maybe you can pass the miniature hickies off as freckles…
When Harry gets to your breasts, he wants to stop and stare. Take a few long minutes to just encompass the beauty that is in front of him. But he assumes you don’t want to be ogled anymore, since he was standing still and gazing at you like a teenage girl taking a picture of a pink sunset. So, instead, his lips enclose around your nipple. His tongue glides around it, feeling its pointiness peak until he is satisfied with the sounds coming from your lewd mouth. He does the same to the other side until you’re panting and your heart has turned erratic.
His pink lips trail down your torso, marking each inch of skin with a bit of saliva and a warm kiss. His fingers traced your shape, gently scratching at your sides until you were practically squirming in his touch. You’ve never been this wet in your life and it was driving you insane. Harry was driving you insane.
“So soft, Honey,” he coos when he reaches the waistline of your pants. You help him remove the clothing, so you’re not wasting anymore time because it’s blatantly obvious you’re both desperate as hell. His compliment made your skin tingle and your spine shiver. That nickname would be the death of you, you were sure of it. He made you feel all hot and dizzy but also made you gooey and cared for. It was an intense combination of emotions that you definitely needed to sort out. But after you get his cock inside of you.
Yeah. You could settle for that.
Harry now had a full view of your underwear, which was completely soaked through. But at this point, you’re not even embarrassed as much as you are needy. Hell, you’re even spreading your legs wider for him so he has quicker access to you. Yeah. It was that bad.
“Look at you all wet and drippy,” Harry smirks as he hooks his fingers in your panties. He surprises you by pulling them up, the fabric being consumed by your pussy lips. “Such a pretty cunt. Never even seen you this wet on a video. I must be special.”
“It’s all for you, Harry. Or should I say Daddy?” Now, you were smirking. You were only teasing, but at the same time, you were testing the waters. If Harry’s username used the title, you had an inkling that he had some type of kink towards it, right?
With a subtle grunt, he yanks your legs closer to him and widens them even further apart. He doesn’t even hesitate to rip your panties in half and discard the now wasted fabric.
“Harry!” You yelled, shocked at how quickly bare you are. And that he just shredded your underwear. But it was also kind of hot. Like very hot. He slapped the inside of your thigh as a warning, a stinging zip coursing straight to your core.
“No more Harry for you. Since y’want to be such a smart mouth, when you speak, y’better say Daddy.”
Before you know it, his head is lowering towards your cunt. His lips latch onto your clit similarly to your nipple and suck. You let out a gasping moan, fingers instantly clawing at the sheets of his bed. His tongue delves into your folds and warmly slips into you like you wished his cock would. But you were currently in heaven with the heat of his mouth devouring you like his last meal on Earth.
The way his large hands gripped and man-handled your thighs was enough to leave bruising. But you wanted the bruising. You wanted to feel the pain and soreness of this tomorrow just in case it never happens again. You’re not sure what all of this is going to mean for you guys, but you don’t think this will be the end. No, you think it’s going to be the beginning.
You could feel yourself getting wetter with each lick and slurp. Your tailbone was beginning to ache from arching your back to the absolute max. Once that all-too familiar feeling was rushing towards you like a train, Harry’s mouth only got quicker. He even started spitting on your cunt and watched the juices mix together, and that only made your insides clench at the lewdness of it all. Harry was a dirty, dirty man. You knew he was only showing bits and pieces of himself. You wanted to unravel it all and learn more about him and what he liked. But maybe that was for another time…
Without realizing it, your hands were sewn in his brown curls, forcing his head to remain on your clit until you reached your high. Harry’s groans were muffled into vibrations as you tugged, getting more pleasure through them. Your hips were moving in circular motions, but Harry pressed you down with his forearm to keep you flat and still.
“Har–” He pinched your ass, causing you to shriek and correct yourself, “Daddy, please, I’m so close. I’m right there.”
You rarely begged. On your livestreams and videos, you were confident and sexy and seducing because that’s what your audience liked. It’s what you’ve learned and grown to do. You weren’t used to needing something from someone else so fucking bad that you were pleading for them to make you satisfied. Harry’s mouth was currently your kryptonite because you would do anything for him to get you to the finish line.
He suckled on your clit for a few long seconds before you were coming in his mouth. Chants of his title were echoing loudly in his room that the neighbors probably thought you were dying. You were, just in a different way. Harry was gladly swallowing all your juices , his chin sloppy with all them. When it all got too much, you tried to push him away, but he didn’t move until he was completely done.
“Taste so sweet. Just like honey.”
He doesn’t fail to bring more heat onto your skin, even after just having his mouth on you. Something about the way he compliments you and manages to incorporate the word honey will always get you. He seems to read you so easily, and no one’s ever done that before.
“Knew from the video that you’d taste amazing.”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t believe you sent me that video by the way.”
“What? Why?”
“What if it wasn’t me?”
“It’s my job, Harry.”
“So? You were moanin’ my name. That means it’s for me. You’re for me.” The staring that was occurring between you quickly ended as your eyes flitted away from him. You made sure to look anywhere else but him as you heard the sound of his pants falling. Sometimes, Harry could be pretty blunt in the way he claimed you, but at the same time very guarded. He’s saying that you’re his, but you two haven’t even discussed things that far yet.
“Says who?”
“Says me. Right now,” Harry practically growls as he climbs over your body again, his insane physique hovering over you. You never thought you would actually see the day that Harry–the charming, tattooed, sexy man you worked with–was on top of you. You’ve only ever envisioned him in your wet dreams doing the most sinful things known. God wouldn’t be able to forgive the sins you’ve conjured in your brain.
You don’t even get to retort because you’re only thinking about his cock. You had felt his impressive bulge on the couch and assumed he had been rocking himself into the bed while eating you out. As he kissed your neck again, you would feel his hardness poking at you greedily, but you haven’t even looked at it yet. It was probably just as pretty as it was in all his videos.
He extends himself towards his night stand while you’re caught in your thoughts, snatching a condom. You’re glad he didn’t ask to go bare like most guys do. But “most guys” to you are a bunch of college losers who just want to get their dick wet and don’t actually care about the consequences. If you were to get pregnant, they probably wouldn’t even blink an eye before leaving. But you knew Harry wasn’t like that. No, he was the type to think things through and actually be mature about things. Besides the fact that he avoided you…but it’s not like you were very mature about it either. Maybe the age distance between you and Harry was something that you needed. The college boys just weren’t doing it for you.
It’s strange how so many thoughts can sprout from a simple as Harry grabbing a condom. The bare fucking minimum.
“What’s wrong?” Harry’s voice was full of concern as his thick thumb rubbed over your warm cheek. You hadn’t even realized how close he had gotten since he had stretched over towards the drawer and you didn’t know that he’d already put the condom on. So, again, you missed the sight of his huge, God-like dick in-person. Despite all of that, a ping of appreciation hit you right in the heart at Harry’s attention to detail because you know that those college boys wouldn’t have noticed a damn thing.
“Nothing, I–”
“Don’t lie, Honey. Do y’still want this? We don’t have to,” he reassured, eyes sparking with something that was different from the hidden lust. His voice could be rough and firm, but it could also be soothing and sweet. He had these sides to him that he would encompass. Not necessarily switch like a light but transition into smoothly.
“Harry, I’m fine. I promise. This is the only thing I want right now,” You rested your hand on top of his on your cheek. At that moment, everything felt a little more intimate. A little more love-like. The idea of sex turning into “love-making” currently terrified you, but the racing of your heart wasn’t from fear. No, it felt like it was exciting and anxious but in the best way. “Actually, I would be not so fine if you didn’t put your dick in me.”
“You have such a dirty mouth when you’re blunt, Honey,” Harry smoothes his hand down your body and finds your clit again, rubbing gentle circles over the throbbing nerves. Even though you just came only minutes prior, you continued to get wet with every second you were waiting for him. The sight of his body with all those beautiful designs was enough to get you ready for another. He didn’t even have to work you up.
“Thought that’s what you wanted.”
“I’m hearin’ more attitude than screams of m’name. Let’s change that.”
With a devilish smirk, Harry pushes himself close to you and levels into you. His cock enters you slowly but fully as your lungs forget to breathe. Realizing this, you breathe before Harry can scold you about it. His dick was nearly all in because you could feel the weight of his thighs hovering over you deliciously along with the rest of his tattooed body.
When Harry hears and sees you take a deep breath, he pulls out just to push back in again. You elicit a shaky moan as Harry groans gravelly near your chest.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry moans louder into the air as his thrusts become harder, more direct. With just those few thrusts, he already knows exactly where your weakness is and makes it his life goal to hit it every single time.
Harry’s hips move rapidly, pinning your body to the bed as you wiggle underneath him. His muscles are contracting against the pressure of each insane plunge into you while your insides are being reassorted. His size makes it difficult to move, difficult to breathe, yet you’re loving it immensely.
Staring at his arms, you don’t even think about grabbing one of his arms that’s holding him up and laying it on your neck. One of Harry’s furrowed eyebrows lifts up in surprise before that familiar smirk is plastered right back onto his smug face.
“Fuckin’ filthy. I knew you were. What else are y’hiding from me?” Harry’s hand wraps around your neck just as you silently asked. As his fingers block your air flow just enough to make you a little fuzzy, your cunt clenched around his cock. Besides your moans and groans and whimpers, the sound of skin to skin is bouncing across the bedroom like your own personal song. Your anthem. When he releases, the blood flow returns, but he keeps his hand there. “C’mon, Y/N, tell me. What other kinks do you have?”
“I know y’like it rough. Don’t like it when Daddy goes too easy on ya. Do you like to be spanked too? Hmm? Slapped and bitten? Like to have marks all over you so everyone can see?” His brutal thrusts never stop, not even when his breath becomes a little lost. He’s slamming into you like he’s trying to make a dent in your organs, and quite frankly, he just might if he keeps going at the rate he is. But you don’t seem to care too much at the moment. “Do you like people watching? Is that why you post videos of our pretty, little cunt all over the internet? So people can watch you?”
“I don’t hear you,” his voice, raspy and sexy, whispered in a low-threat type of way as his hand rubs over the pulse of your neck temptingly again.
“I g-guess I do like people watching me…” Your voice was breathless as your mind became foggy. Harry did have a way of doing that to you, especially with his hand on your now strained neck. “L-Like when you watch me.”
“‘Course you do. That’s ‘cause you’re dirty. Just like me.” If it was possible, he rocks into you more barbarically until your legs are shaking. You can feel the muscles in your thighs start to spasm, urging to close as you chase your inevitable high.
“Daddy, God, you’re so big. So, so big,” You whined helplessly into the sex-filled air. Your hairs were scratching, tugging, pulling, clawing at everything at the same time, trying to manage all the intense pleasure that was coursing through your body. It was almost too much to handle. Harry seemed to know how to push your limits without killing you, and you’ve craved that feeling for so long. “L-Love your cock. Oh my God!”
“Poor baby. I’ve gotten you all cock drunk; you can’t think of anything else besides m’cock. ‘S that good, huh?” A choppy chuckle elicits from his mouth and wavers over to your ear. Your chest was pressing into his as your core clutched with the sense of near-orgasm. “Gonna come soon, baby?”
“Yes, yes, yes…” You were a mumbled, grumbled mess. You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t talk straight. Harry was impairing all of your abilities with his dirty talk and his magical dick.
No, seriously. Was it like a thick magic wand or something?
Harry squeezes on your neck a couple times, lightly, just to push you right over the edge. Harry seemed to be a quick learner when it came to your body because you were instantly coming then. As Harry felt you orgasm for the second time tonight, he finally let go of his own. When you were coming around his tongue at the beginning of this all, he was having a hard time trying to not come in his own pants. He may have been stupid last night and selfish earlier, but he wasn’t going to do it again. He was going to make up for being a selfish prick and show you how he actually treats a woman. Because you deserve to be treated with nothing less than the best.
After you’re both settled, Harry regretfully slips out of you. Clearly, you felt the same way because you whined as he removed himself. After being inside of you and passing through the gates of heaven, why would Harry want to leave? But even though Harry wants to be as close to you as possible by simply cockwarming all day, he doesn’t want to rush this. It’s new, even if you guys have been friends for some time.
Plucking off the condom and knotting it, Harry waltzes towards his bathroom to grab a towel to clean you up. The soft smile on your face when he returns highlights how grateful you are for his aftercare as he gently wipes up the mess both of you helped create.
“How do you feel?” Harry genuinely asks before placing the towel at the foot of his bed. He briskly moves to his dresser to pick out a new pair of boxers.
“I’m sorry if this offends you, but you have a great ass,” You bluntly state, completely avoiding his question. “But I’m okay.”
Harry laughs as he slips on the clothing. “Just okay? No pain?”
“Yeah. If okay translates to “my vagina is broken for every man ever and both my legs are going to hate me tomorrow”,” You smile innocently as Harry grabs two shirts. He chucks one at you, smiling goofily. It hits you in the face with a laugh before you slip it over your head.
“Good.”
“Good? I might have to take a week off work to heal from the damages.”
“Guess you’ll just have to stay in my bed.”
You roll your eyes before pushing yourself off his bed, contradicting his statement.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to my real boyfriend’s house,” You roll your eyes again facetiously and leave his room, rounding the same corner that he did before yelling, “Bathroom!”
When you return, you plop yourself on Harry’s bed like it was normal. It was comfortable. It felt right. It wasn’t awkward, it wasn’t forced. That was the good thing about two friends getting together. After sex, or work, or school, or just a bad day, or even a good day, they could always just talk. As you sat on Harry’s bed, it was easy to joke and make conversation while still feeling that subtle spark of electricity in between you two. That spark was the difference between platonic and romantic.
“We should watch a movie,” You suggested.
“Where should we look? PornHub?” His dry humor made you laugh as you cozied up in his bed. He didn’t hesitate to pull you close and you liked that. Maybe a little too much for your own good. Your heart was thumping in a way that was melting away the frozen walls around it. It made you happy that something in your life finally seemed to be working out.
“Maybe start with Netflix,” You laid your head on his shoulder as the ironic logo appeared on his TV. “I, um.”
“What?” Harry peeked down at you.
“I think I like this a lot,” Harry smiles at you. He could tell from the beginning that it was hard for you to say things like that to him. That’s why it made him feel like such an asshole for storming out the other night. You needed time to process everything he had just told you, but he was too nervous for your rejection, so he left. Even though he’s six years older than you and may seem more mature, everyone makes stupid and selfish mistakes.
“Well, I hope so, Honey, ‘cause I do too,” Even those simple words have the ability to warm and satisfy your scared, little heart.
summary: besides being a friendly bartender at night, harry likes to get a little extra cash by doing porn during the day; and he’s successful. but who knew it was so common for two people who work at the same bar to both be secret porn stars?
request: @victoria-styles: “How about like Harry is a porn star who requests a video with Y/N.”
song: baby honey- harry <3
words: 11k
warnings: SMUT (f-receiving [masturbation], m-receiving [masturbation], mentions of porn, dirty talk) and language.
note: sorry for being off the world for so long… i’ll probably end up doing it again soon. but i had a day to write and i wanted to throw this out there. again, i apologize if it’s rushed or sloppy. it’s just the time i had :/ PART TWO
secret pornstar!harry x secret pornstar!y/n
—
“What’d you like, beautiful?” Harry smiles brightly, flashing his white bunny teeth at the lady on the other side of the bar. Her auburn highlights were curled romantically while she sported a tight black dress that was too small for her breasts. She was definitely a young college student while Harry was in his late 20s. Noticing his appearance, she bites her burgundy-painted lips. Her elbows lean on the slick counter, leaning forward to subtly show Harry more of her cleavage.
He didn’t indulge, but continued with his flirty attitude in order to get more tips. Charm was his speciality; it came naturally to him with no effort. After bartending for two years, everything became easy. Plus, it was fun to flirt all night long. He never got tired of the desire that flashed in women’s eyes as they looked him up and down. It made him feel confident and cocky, and he tried his hardest not to be arrogant when talking about it with his co-workers.
Being a bartender was like playing a role for some people, but for Harry, it was just who he was. And he got paid for it. In a nice paycheck and hefty tips.
“Mm, I don’t know. What do you suggest?” Her voice was high and hissy, trying to appear sensual. She slides a card toward him with two fingers. Harry doesn’t blink an eye or hesitate at this behavior; he’s seen this movie too many times to be naive.
With a smirk on his face, Harry works his magic behind the counter. His white sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, giving the lady a perfect view of his forearm muscles and veins. The woman watches his every move, focusing on the way his tattooed hands grip every bottle with efficient skill yet delicacy.
In less than two minutes, a peach colored drink was placed in front of the woman. Her eyes visibly sparkle as if she’s never seen alcohol before she sips the liquid.
“Oh my God! This is delicious,” She practically moans out, causing Harry to smirk. He loves when people compliment his craft. “What is this?”
“Sex on the beach,” Harry winks and flashes his famous grin before snatching her card and waltzing away.
His parting was almost cool, almost movie-like until he ran into somebody holding a large tub of ice. The tub smacked him in his abdomen, knocking the wind out of him. He groans deeply, trying to catch his breath while clutching his stomach for a moment.
“Fuck! Are you okay?” Your eyes wander over Harry’s face and body, attempting to recover. Hearing his voice made a flush spread across your whole skin, but you blame it on the warmth around the bar. Your white and yellow-painted fingers clutch around the handles tightly.
“Yeah, m’fine. Just knocked the wind out of me s’all,” He smiles reassuringly, throwing his rag over his shoulder. His eyes scan over your figure, just like he tries to avoid doing every night.
You had your hair pinned up in a messy bun that was simple, yet so alluring. A classic white button up and a black vest adorned your body perfectly. You wore the same standard uniform as everyone else, yet you made it look so seductive to Harry; he assumed you got loads of tips by the end of the night. Even if you were in a garbage bag, you would blow people away in the bar–men and women. He was jealous of everyone who got to be a part of your flirtatious side, but not everyone saw the genuine side of you like he had.
Another flush cascaded your skin as his eyes drifted over you and the smallest smirk appeared on his lips. The sounds of music and people buzzing drunkenly weren’t nearly as loud as the heart that was thumping in your chest. You clenched the handles even harder before looking anywhere but him, too intimidated by his charming presence.
“I’ll just, um,” You suggested awkwardly with a half smile. Standing this close to Harry without talking made you think of things. Things that you dreamt about, or things that inspired your hand to drift between your legs. The ice in the tub was probably melting from the warmth radiating off of you.
“Oh, yeah, of course,” Harry shakes his head and shifts in an attempt to move past you.
You adjust the tub as he slides next to you, bodies rubbing together. His hand gently rests on your shoulder as he wiggles by you. Butterflies soar throughout your tummy at the brief contact before his touch is gone way too soon. You watch as his smile grows, walking backwards before turning around and charming another customer.
You exhale and return to focusing on your job, the bubbly feeling never leaving you.
From the corner of his eye, Harry sees you walk around the corner until you’re completely out of his sight. The black slacks you wore made him tight in his trousers a countless amount of times, basically every night. Even though he tried to avoid staring, his gaze and curiosity was drawn to you, so he hopelessly stared at your body as you strutted away. When his greedy cock twitches, he bites his tongue.
Well, at least he knows what he’s thinking about later.
God, it was so wrong. To think about you while he was getting himself off. He couldn’t help himself. After working with you for a year, his attraction to you never ceased. He thought if maybe he just got off on the idea of you one time he would be freed from the attraction he felt for his co-worker. But that only created a routine.
Harry would hook-up occasionally, and yeah, it would be nice, but nothing satisfied him completely because they weren’t you. He consistently found himself masturbating with thoughts of you on your knees. Or you on his lap, straddling or riding him. He would imagine the way you’d whine, whimper, moan, and scream for him, and these thoughts made him come hard every time.
But that nagging, unsatisfied feeling haunted him. He wanted you so bad it almost hurt. So, he resorted to other, less practical options.
He had thought about joining the porn industry awhile ago when he was in college. He thought it would be great money, and it turns out it’s even better than what he makes as a bartender.
And he thought being a bartender would make him cocky and arrogant.
Harry started over half a year ago–a few months after you got the job. In order to distract himself from thinking of you or sleeping with other women, he recorded videos during the day. Surprisingly, he got more popular than he thought he would, gaining a few thousand subscribers in just three months. Now, seven months since the beginning, Harry would do videos, live streams, and personal requests for people who paid extra.
But he never showed his face. Ever.
At night, he would work his busy shift at the bar, flirting with customers just like he did on live streams. This way, he couldn’t allow himself to engage in the idea of having a crush on a co-worker. It was just unprofessional. But even if he tried doing all of this, it was impossible for him to deny the small crush he had on you. So, that’s all he labeled it as; a small crush. Nothing more.
He wouldn’t say you were his only reason for getting into the industry. He had thought about it for quite some time, so you were just his… motivator.
When the bustling night finally comes to an end, nothing but a few footsteps echo throughout the bar as Harry wipes the counter and tables clean. As he’s just finishing up his last table, he hears your angelic voice on the other side of the bar.
“Need some help?” You offer, with a slight head tilt and a show-stopping smile as you lean on the glossy, black counter. That was the smile that got you tips, and if it didn’t, Harry would sure be willing to give you some himself. “Please let me help.”
“Just finishing up. Go on home. Don’t worry ‘bout closing up,” He tosses the rag over his shoulder as he walks towards the back room where all the locker rooms are located. You sigh into the silent air as you follow him.
“Harry, you can’t keep doing this for me every night. I can close up by myself. I’m a big girl…”
Ever since you’ve started, Harry’s been intrigued by you. Out of curiosity on your first night, Harry stayed back and helped you close up. He was surprised they made you close so soon, especially on the first night. But you should’ve had previous training.
It was purely curiosity, just to see if you did it right and whatnot. But then he did it the next night, and the next. And eventually, he anticipated and looked forward to cleaning up the bar, knowing that it was just the two of you. It didn’t really help Harry with his little crush on you, but he didn’t care when he heard your laugh and saw your smile. You were refreshing to him after a long, busy night that crept into early morning.
“I know, I know. Don’t want you to be lonely s’all.” Popping open his locker, he shuffles through all of his belongings. You appreciated that Harry would stay an extra hour every single night just because he didn’t want you to feel lonely. It made your heart all warm and your stomach feel gushy every time you were alone together. For some reason right now, his words made your tummy tingle.
“And I appreciate that a lot! But I feel bad for making you stay here longer than you have to. I know Carrie doesn’t even know you work that late,” You cross your arms while talking about your manager. Harry rolls his eyes as he continues to mess around in his locker.
“You’re not makin’ me do anything. I’m doin’ it all on my own,” He rebuttals as you move closer to him as if he’ll hear you clearer.
“But Harry–” Harry cuts off your voice because it sounds too whiny, pathetic, and way too erotic for him to make any rational decisions with you standing this close to him. He slams his hand on the metal locker, making your eyes widen and freeze.
“But nothing. Stop your whinin’, Y/N. I thought you were a big girl,” Harry grumbles before unbuttoning his vest and shrugging it off. Even if he’s just removing his vest, his hands are a bit shaky, nerves flowing through him because you’re staying right in front of him, unmoving, while he’s undressing himself.
“What are you doing?” You ask anxiously as your eyes flash over at his movements.
“Taking m’vest off?”
“Oh, right, yeah,” Well, now, you look fucking stupid.
You both bicker back and forth until Harry caves and you shine that bullet-proof smile at him. He swears he feels his knees buckle and heart jump in his chest, but swallows the feelings down.
“Fine, get the mop.”
Together, you wipe all the surfaces clean, mop the floors, restock any liquors that were empty, and lock the doors. When your job is done, you and Harry walk into the back room to grab your stuff.
“Thanks for staying,” You felt as though it was getting awkward, the silence of your footsteps and the creakness of the locker door.
“‘Course,” Harry replies gruffly and shuts his door. As he leads you out the backdoor, you both start heading in different directions without knowing. Harry usually parks in the same stall every day if he can. However, you don’t and just park anywhere you can.
“Oh. Well, goodnight, H,” You smiled softly as you drifted away to your car. It looked a little different to Harry, but maybe that’s just because it was almost pitch-black outside. Or did you get a new car and he just never noticed? Harry watches you carefully to make sure you get to your vehicle safely, and when you do, he makes his way to his own car.
You didn’t call him H a lot. The first time you did it was by accident when you spilt something on his slacks during your first week in training. He just laughed and cleaned himself up, and then said that nobody had ever called him that besides his mom. For some odd reason, a little spark ignited in you, so you started calling him H, but not all the time since it seemed special. Most of the time when you two were alone. You didn’t want other people saying H when it kind of became your guys’ thing. Besides his mom of course.
Harry loved when you called him H. His mom called him that when he was a little boy, but it’s been at least a decade since she’s said just the pure letter.
As Harry starts his engine and backs out, he inhales deeply with the thought of you in his mind. As always.
–
“Y/N, I need my car back,” Penny says on the other side of the phone, slight annoyance lacing her tone.
“I know, okay? I’m just trying to save up, and I almost have enough!”
“Fine,” Penny sighs. You can hear the exhausted pinch of her nose, “but I need it back by next Friday for that trip no matter what. Even if you have to take the damn bus. And if you don’t, I’m telling Mom and Dad.”
“Thank you so much!” Your voice is cut off by the sound of the call ending, and you sigh heavily into the morning air. She’s very mature for a thirty year old.
Last week, your car had broken down on the side of the road. It was an old, shitty car, but it got you from your parents’ house and through most of college. Your parents helped pay for a good chunk of your tuition, so you didn’t dare to ask them to loan you some money for a new car. You didn’t want them to know you needed help because they’ve already done so much for you two and you know they’re looking to retire at some point. So, you asked your older sister, Penny, to borrow hers for a few days while you came up with a better solution. She was fine with it at first, but you can tell it’s probably time to give it back.
However, even though you said you would have the money by next Friday and it’s Sunday, you wouldn’t. There is no way in hell you were going to come up with an extra two thousand dollars in twelve days.
–
You decided to open up to Harry as you were closing the bar on Tuesday night. He listened with care and nodded along to every complaint you whined. Even though it brutally killed him to listen to it. Gosh, he was so dirty minded.
“I can’t even get a second job because I wouldn’t get paid in time. And I really don’t want Penny playing snitch and telling my parents about my car,” You gasp, “What if they stop paying for my tuition because they think I’m irresponsible? Ugh, what should I do, Harry?”
“Relax f’me,” Harry reassured, and bit his cheek at his choice of words. Why is he the most sexual person ever? “I could always take you to work. And loan you some cash.”
“Absolutely not. We don’t work the same days and I don’t want you driving me when you could be busy—”
“Y/N, s’not an issue. The university s’not that far from ‘ere.”
“But—”
“No,” Harry ended the banter quickly with a strict tone. His voice made you swallow and submit without a second thought. Your stomach unconsciously burned and your heart beated rapidly as you blinked in place. “Go get y’things.”
“Fine, but I don’t want your money.”
So, you got your things. Harry walked you out to your car and then you went your separate ways. Even though he said it’s not a big deal, you didn’t drop it. Instead, you did excessive research on part-time jobs that pay really well. However, your options were slim to none.
Giving up, you fell dramatically onto your mattress in defeat. Suddenly, your phone pings and you check it, wondering who would be texting you at one A.M.
H: Send me your schedule when you get the chance. The new one hasn't been printed yet.
H: You’re probably asleep, sorry
Y/N: i’m not asleep
Y/N: *Image Attachment*
H: Cool thanks
Y/N: no thank YOU for helping me out you’re too kind H
H: Anything for you love
Is what Harry wanted to say, but he was too much of a chicken. That’s what Harry wanted to say in a perfect world, but nothing is on his side. He thought he had erased the message and exited the app. Instead, the message sent, and autocorrect changed the entire meaning.
H: Anything for your love
This is why punctuation and revision is important!
Your heart skipped a beat. Longer than a beat. You felt the organ get caught in your throat and subtly choke you as you read the four words. Why would he say that? You wait a few moments to see if he’s going to type something else, maybe realize he made a mistake, but he never does. So, you sit rereading the four words like a mantra in your head.
You turn your phone off after you realize how ridiculous you’re being. You place the device on your nightstand and try to go to sleep. But you can’t. You can’t stop thinking of Harry. His kindness, his voice, his body, his words… They’re infecting you and giving you insomnia.
So, instead of staring at the ceiling until you fall asleep, you snatch your laptop from below your nightstand. You pull up your private browser (not that it matters) and search your favorite website. Well, your favorite porn website.
If you watched enough videos, or maybe even fingered yourself, you would fall asleep.
You were a regular on the website. More than a regular. You were a… worker. A star, or whatever. Is that what the employees were called? At the beginning of college you started recording little videos of yourself just groping or rubbing hoping to earn a little cash. But when you got a little more confident, you would rub your clit and finger yourself until you came.
Crazy, right?
It’s quite insane how it all happened. It’s a good side hustle, but it’s still not enough to help you buy a car by your deadline. You get paid less than you do as a bartender, which kind of sucks. You thought about quitting, but it’s probably the funnest job you’ve ever had. How many jobs do you get orgasms from?
None.
Maybe you need to step up your game. Maybe you need to start using various toys that your viewers recommend in order to spice things up. Will that get you views? You didn’t know because you didn’t know a lot about the porn industry.
Scrolling past your profile to avoid obsessing over your insecurities, you look at who's live. That’s one thing you’ll never do; go on live. No matter how much the handful of viewers you get want you to, you don’t trust yourself. You never show your face in any of your videos and if you did by accident, you always blur it out. But on livestream, you can’t just go back and fix it. Your face will be on the internet forever, and your biggest fear is that it will haunt you for the rest of your life.
What if you can’t get a real job because your face is on some porn website? Or you can’t get married? Or you can’t look your friends in the eyes because they’ve seen yours on a livestream?
You couldn’t live with that.
When nothing seems at all entertaining, a video of a man with tattoos spawns on your screen. Your first thought was that it looks like Harry, but you know it wasn’t. The man didn’t have the cross tattoo on his left hand and was lacking in other spots.
You bet Harry was fit. The way he carried those tubs of ice or lifted something heavy off the shelves… You knew he had to have some type of hefty muscle under his rolled button-up. Speaking of, when he curls the white sleeves, you can’t help but ogle him every time you see him. You strain to look away because his forearms just look so delicious with his smooth, tattooed skin.
Nonetheless, you still clicked on the video. It was a solo guy simply just jerking himself off with loads of foreplay and dirty talk. Usually, this kind of scene makes you cringe. But as your mind spirals, you imagine it’s Harry; his voice, his tattoos, his body, his hands…
Every explicit word and sound that falls from the man’s mouth causes you to whimper as you translate it as Harry. Your hand easily shuffles itself between your widening legs, rubbing gently over the cotton of your panties.
The guy begins stroking his cock, slowly but surely as his tip leaks. You shut your eyes, not bothering with the video. All you wanted were the sounds—the grunting, moaning, and direct words spouting from this man’s throat that pushed you further. They sounded gruff, and you couldn’t erase how perfectly it aligned with your imagination of Harry.
A broken moan escapes you when you shift your underwear to the side and slot in a finger. You barely teased yourself, and thrusted in and out with purpose.
The man in the video was American, and some may say it’s hard to imagine a British accent. But when you were horny and had a ridiculous crush on your 28 year old co-worker who was 6 years older than you, your brain was relentless.
The audio spouted out his grumbled moan as your opposing thumb rolled over your clit. You couldn’t stop thinking of Harry’s hands on you, his fingers inside of you instead of your own. You imagine he’s good too. You can practically feel the way he sinks all the way into you and curls deliciously until his rings are teasing your folds. His smirk would hang over your face as you broke down, trembling as you came around his digits.
That wasn’t real, but your mind couldn’t comprehend that right now. As the guy loudly groaned one final time, he came with spurts of his orgasm landing on his chiseled torso.
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came around two fingers that weren’t Harry’s. The remaining thought left you unsatisfied overall, but it would have to surfice for tonight. As you drained yourself of your orgasm, you trudged to your shared bathroom and quickly cleaned yourself up before anyone could see.
Your dormmates were always in and out. They both were in full-time relationships and jobs that caused them to be busy twenty-four-seven. Sometimes, you were glad because then you could have the whole dorm to yourself. That’s usually when you recorded your videos for your website, and then would edit them some other time.
Now exhausted, you flopped onto your bed and shut your laptop closed. You twisted off your bedside lamp as your eyes grew heavier by the minute. It wasn’t long before your mind dragged you into slumber, the thought of Harry still lingering.
—
When you woke up the next morning, you were glad you didn’t have work that night. Although you’ve selfishly gotten off to Harry before, you never did have to face him the next day. It’s almost like you planned it that way. You groggily rolled out of bed as you normally do and began your short morning routine.
You left the doom and walked to class, too tired to get a coffee, but too tired to go to class. Your head pounded, needing the addicting caffeine, so you forced yourself to walk down to the small coffee shop near your school.
Snatching the miniature paper cup, you skulked your way to class with half your brain on. During the lecture, you felt yourself slipping away into dreamland; one where you had a great paying job, a nice, working car, and a very, very comfy bed. You imagined yourself sleeping peacefully and then waking up to the sound of chirping birds on your windowsill and a handsome man by your side. For a sliver of a moment, due to your shenanigans last night, your brain envisioned Harry as the man beside you. But even the exhausted and delirious morning version of you knew you were being foolish to even think about Harry in the same bed as you. Boy, was that a fantasy.
It was too domestic and way too out of reach for you both. You merely closed with the guy and ranted about your own life. Pouring out your problems was definitely not attractive, and neither was a college girl that was six years younger than him without a working car. But he offered to drive you to work. What does that mean? Nothing. That’s just what friendly co-workers do, right? When you realized you were insanely delusional, you rushed to scribble the notes in your notebook before your daydreams got the best of you.
“That’s all for today,” were your favorite set of words at the moment. The second you heard your professor’s routine dismissal, you were shoving your supplies in your bag with more energy than you had all day. You were the first to exit class, but was that really surprising?
When you got back to the dorm, you dropped your bag and fell flat on your bed. Silence filled your room just as last night (or this morning if you wanted to get technical). But it was brighter and a bit stuffer due to the heat of the sun beaming through your window that you forgot to block with your blinds. Groaning, you do just that right as you get a message from your phone. Flopping back on your bed, you flip the device over with surprise.
H: Do you work today
You were shocked to see that Harry texted you because one, it was mid-day and two, he rarely ever texts. When his name pops up on your screen’s wallpaper, your heart jumps in your chest before reading the message ten more times in order to comprehend it. But this text specifically had you confused. You sent him your schedule last night, so he knows exactly when you work. Why would he need to be asking you when he has the information?
Instead of being a bitch, you just reply simply.
Y/N: i don’t. why what’s up
He responds quickly.
H: Carrie called and asked if anyone could come in to cover Allison’s shift tonight
Y/N: closing?
H: Yeah
Y/N: are you working?
Why would you ask that? You were probably going to pick up the shift anyway, so why didn’t you just say yes?
Maybe because your delusional ass wants to keep this dry, solely work-related conversation going!
H: Yes
Y/N: kk then i can cover
H: Need a ride?
Why did Harry ask that? He knows that you still have your sister’s car for the rest of the week, yet he still asked. Is there a little sliver inside of him that hopes you’ll say yes just so he can spend time with you? Yes. The real question was, is it weird that he wanted you to say yes?
Y/N: it’s okay i still have penny’s car until friday
Harry didn’t respond after that. He was hit with what he assumed was disappointment, but he had no reason to be disappointed.
You were the type of person to ask a million questions until you found out the reason behind something. Harry found that out early on. So, just in case you ask him why he reached out to you, his excuse would be that you needed the money because of Tuesday’s rant. Maybe it would sound a little harsh, but it was better than Harry admitting that he just wanted to work with you again. Or that he wanted to be with you alone.
God, he sounds like such a creep.
When the night came, Harry was impatiently waiting for you to come in. He had already been there an hour and every few minutes his head would look backward to see if you were walking in through the back door. When he realized how weird and obsessive he was being, he refocused on his work; smiling, charming, and getting tips. Some nights were harder than others to act all sexy and sweet because he didn’t always feel that way. But when he worked with you, everything seemed a bit easier. But it was also because he had the dirtiest mind in the world and couldn’t stop thinking about what was underneath your button-up. Okay, so maybe working with you wasn’t the easiest…
“Look at her.”
“Who?”
“That one. The one with the pinned up hair,” A burly man points. “I would not mind gettin’ some of that.”
“Oh yeah. Look at her tits. They are practically poppin’ out of that top–”
Harry’s never turned around so quickly in his life. When he turned, he saw exactly what the two bastards were looking at; you. You were wearing a little more makeup than usual and your top was missing the first button. Harry felt his blood boil, but not with rage. No, it was bubbling up with some intense need to push you into the back room and lock the door. He would pluck off every single button with his mouth if you asked him to. But he also hated that everyone could see. Every person in this bar, including the two perverts behind him, got to ogle your beauty. Harry felt like he couldn’t admire you the way that strangers get to, and he was right. He couldn’t. It was wrong. You were friends. You were co-workers. That had to be against some rule, right?
Once he got his head somewhat straight, he spun back around to face the two men again. Harry was not charming and he was not smiling this time. Before Harry even had the chance to speak, the man was already talking over him.
“Yo, you think you could hook me up with that one? The busty one?” Harry was going to beat the shit out of this guy. But he’s going to try his best to remain professional first.
“You’re not allowed to hit on employees. And you’re not allowed to talk about them in an inappropriate manner,” Harry clenched his jaw and peered over at you, “If you say another goddamn word about her I will kick your ass to the curb, yeah?”
One of the men wasn't even paying attention anymore, but the one who started it all merely snickered at Harry. He shook his head in annoyance before spinning around on his stool and hopping off. He could hear little grumbles coming from his bearded mouth, but he didn’t actually say anything else. Harry felt like it was a little victory in his book, but he still felt that drop of jealousy inside of him.
Control.
He took a deep breath and concentrated on anything else. He attempted to stay as far away from you as possible because he thinks tonight may be the night he loses control. You had your hair pinned up again, like usual, but the ends were sticking out. Harry thought about pulling on them until your hair came undone completely. Like he noticed earlier, you had on more makeup, but it wasn’t a lot compared to some of the women that waltzed into the bar. Your lipstick was a bold red while your eyes had that gold glitter eyeshadow stuff that made them sparkle. To say the least, you were attractive. You were a captivating magnet of beauty that people were drawn to. When you walked in a room, people stopped to look at you for minutes at a time because they were fascinated by you. Well, that’s at least how Harry felt. Every time.
At midnight, when the bar finally died down a bit because it’s Wednesday, Harry still tried to avoid you. You seemed extra smiley and extra bouncy for some reason too. It was physically hard to not walk over to you. When Harry wanted something, he usually got it, but his self-control was proving that fact to be false.
“Hey, I haven’t seen you all night!” Just when he thought you might leave his mind for the first time tonight–you weren’t–he summoned you next to him. You were as smiley and bouncy as you seemed earlier and he wondered how you weren’t exhausted.
“Hey,” he replied with some guilt in his tone. He coughs, trying not to peer down at your breasts. “How are you so…”
“Awake? I had four espresso shots before work.”
“Okay, well, that explains a lot,” Harry felt the need to say something about your look. He wanted to compliment you, but would that be weird? No, right? You probably got a hundred compliments and loads of tips because of your beauty alone. He has never thought twice about complimenting somebody before. He swallowed. “I, uh, like your makeup.”
You blinked, suddenly feeling the weight of your mascara on your eyelashes and the lipstick on your lips. Your heart was already beating quickly because of the caffeine, but Harry’s compliment made it much worse. The organ was thumping speedily inside of you like it was trying to win a race. Your ears were getting warm along with the nape of your neck as a tingle of something shot through your body. Like? Lust? Need?
“T-Thank you,” You bit your tongue immediately for stuttering. Harry ignited a flame of energy into you that no amount of caffeine could recreate. He was staring at you now, his gaze so intense you might melt from his invisible laser beams. When his irises moved, you swear they shot down to your cleavage for a millisecond before staring at your painted lips. You tried not to look at any of his tattoos that were visible because you knew that would end it all for you; all of your self-control that you have somehow mustered up this far would disintegrate into the lust-filled air. Did he feel this too? The intense attraction connected by a thick rope that pulled you closer and closer together?
“I’m going to go do…anything else.” As your body moved away from him in an urge to remain self-controlled, your eyes were the last thing to yank away. But your luck got the best of you, as always. As you walked backwards, your heel stepped on a half-melted ice cube that managed to make you slip on your ass. But not before Harry was right in front of you, catching you before you ass hit the ground.
He tugs you up a little too harshly, slamming you into his chest. Your hands immediately flatten themselves against it while he holds your elbows tightly. He quickly peers down at your chipped nails; white and yellow. His gaze on them made you tremble with sudden insecurity. You’ve never been this close to him before, and all your insides were warning you of their near death. Your vagina was melting away at this point, your wetness soaking your underwear until they were completely wet. You could feel your heart beating rapidly in your throat while his heart throbbed against your palms.
Maybe he did feel it too.
Hesitantly, you looked up at him, but he was already looking at you.
“What are you doing to me?” he asks quietly, his grip loosening just the slightest.
“I could ask the same thing,” You responded breathlessly, hands slowly sliding down his chest.
“I have no control around you.”
“What do you mean?” You knew what he meant because you felt it too, but you wanted him to say it first. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it before the words could come out. Once you are on steady feet, he releases his hold on you completely just as the bar doorbell rings. An older man walks in, Harry immediately fetching the guy’s order. He gets a beer while messaging on his phone consistently. Harry avoided you for the rest of the hour. Two more people came in and he busied himself with their orders and paid attention to only them. You wondered if he was going to stay and close with you tonight or if the encounter was awkward enough to make him go home early.
You take a deep breath before trudging away into the back room to start your close, careful to not slip on any ice because you knew Harry wouldn’t be there this time to catch you.
–
Once the doors were finally locked, you were able to start mopping in front of the bar. The chairs were all flipped and the tables and booths were all sanitized. You peered through the windows as a few people walked by, the mophead gliding easily along the floor. When you were finished, you tried not to think about where Harry was. You’re not sure if he had left for the night because you’ve been in the front and he’s been in the back. As you drag the mop into the back room with its bucket, you witness Harry unbuttoning his vest. Your traitorous heart thumped and your lady parts still ached, even if you were upset he’d been avoiding you without a valid reason. What did he not have control over? Himself? You wanted him to explain everything to you.
“I don’t like this, Harry.”
“What?” he croaked, voice seemingly dry from talking the previous hour.
“You avoiding me,” You took a deep breath, “What do you not have control over?” You saw his jaw visibly tense at the question, but that only made you more curious.
“I can’t do this tonight,” Once his vest was off, he was trying to push past you in the small room, but you shuffled to the side to block him. He was not walking away easily this time.
“No, you’re not avoiding me again. Harry, be an adult, would you?”
“You’re the one that’s blockin’ the doorway like a child so I can’t leave.”
“Well, if you just explained yourself maybe I would usher you to the exit myself,” You crossed your arms stubbornly over your chest. Harry hated that his eyes were attracted to your pushed-up breasts, practically calling out to him. This was his breaking point. This is exactly what he knew would happen. He knew you would ask him a million questions until you found your in-depth answer. He let one admission slip and suddenly he was being bombarded with questions that even he didn’t have the answers to. He was afraid he’d say the wrong thing, and then everything between you would be ruined.
Maybe he would just quit and become a full-time pornstar.
“Why do you stay an extra hour every night to help me close? Because I know you’re not getting paid for it.”
“Maybe I just like helpin’ out.”
“You only do it with me, don’t you? And now you’re avoiding me–”
“Fuck, ‘cause I’m drawn to you, Y/N! I can’t help it. I want to spend more time with you than a single shift. I’m selfish. Have you seen yourself? You walk around like you own this damn place and it has everyone fallin’ onto their knees for ya. You should’ve heard what these guys were sayin’ ‘bout you,” he laughs in the depressing, forced kind of way, “and tonight when you came in with your glitter and your makeup and your tits pouring out of your shirt, you made me think and feel things I can’t say out loud. It feels wrong. That’s why I’ve been avoiding you.”
With a frozen body, you were speechless. The silence that surrounded you both was so deafening that you could barely hear your drumming heart beating in your ears. Your mouth was slacked open, your lips formed in a forever “o” shape. Harry’s words were rushed and tense as if he couldn’t quite get them out right, but he couldn’t have explained it better. While you were starstruck by his admission, he brushes past your still body and exits the back room. You don’t even turn around in time because when you do, you don’t hear the click of his footsteps in the lobby but the plush closing of the back door.
–
The next morning was awful. You could barely sleep due to Harry’s words echoing in your head like a wincing ache, so you were dragging yourself out of bed once your alarm rang at 6 am. Your morning routine felt more mundane than usual as your eyes threatened to shut every few seconds.
As you finally trudged to campus, the curious cat in you kept wandering back to thoughts of Harry. You wondered what he was doing right now in the middle of the day. Did he have another job? Was he hanging out with friends? Family? At one point during your friendship, you had assumed he had a girlfriend because how could he not? A handsome bartender with enough charm to swoon both men and women in a filled ballroom surely would be taken. But after his confession last night, you knew Harry was consumed in a different concept. Maybe Harry didn’t like to date. Maybe he just liked being with women (and maybe men) in an intimate way casually without settling. You weren’t like that. You liked commitment and routine and being steady. That’s why it was unbelievably stressful for your car to break down randomly; it interrupted your plans. So maybe that’s why you couldn’t respond to Harry after his acknowledging words last night–you haven’t had time to process the underlying meaning of his words. You also knew deep down that if Harry only wanted you for sex, you would get hurt in the end. You weren’t one for casual sex because you knew you would get attached. That’s why you have remained such self-control around Harry.
Did he feel that way too?
When you got to the doors of your lecture room, your thoughts became misty in your mind. You push open the door to an empty classroom. You blink away the fatigue in your eyes, thinking your deliriousness has you seeing things–or lack thereof. But when you rub them harshly, the room remains peopleless and you wonder just what you missed. You yank your phone from your pants pocket and tap open your email app. And of course, the most recent and unread email is from your professor last night. He mentions that class would be canceled tomorrow due to a family emergency that happened that evening. At that time, you were too busy drowning in your own overthinking to even check your phone the whole night. As a grumble mixed with a sigh leaves your lips, you plod back to your tiny dorm and hope that your roommates aren’t there. You needed to let off some steam. And you knew just how.
–
Out of all the days in the week, Thursday has always been Harry’s day off. He never works on Thursday or hangs out with his friends because they have work, so it’s just a nothing day for him. Some weeks he uses this day to film new content, but after last night’s incident, he can’t think straight. He hasn’t stopped thinking of you and your lack of words from his admission. And it’s killing him. He wishes you would have said something, anything, rather than just standing still with your mouth wide enough to slip his cock through. His mind keeps coming up with randomized scenarios of what-ifs and it’s enough to make him go mad.
And then there’s the dirty, animalistic part of him that cannot forget how good you looked with your barely buttoned shirt and your wild lipstick. He wanted to kiss you until you were both covered in the red paint. He wanted to tear your uniform so roughly that the buttons would break off completely and you’d never be able to wear that excuse for a shirt again. He wanted to corner you in the back room and show you how much he wanted you and how much he hated avoiding you. But he needed to. For his sake and yours.
Instead of filming one of his requested videos, he just scrolls through the website. Harry doesn’t feel guilty about it because he keeps telling himself that today is his day off and he deserves to take a break. But even with those reminders his brain is running a million miles an hour, chasing you and the what-ifs that lingered on your tongue last night. Even when he tried his very best, he couldn’t stop thinking about you in his subconscious. So as he deepened his search throughout the site, he didn’t even comprehend that he was looking for someone that resembled you.
He seeked various videos until he found an account that drew him in, similarly to how you do on a daily basis. With curiosity, he clicks on the profile before him, reading and watching bits and pieces before indulging. The username was babyh0ney and that alone caught his eye. The girl didn’t say much about herself on her profile, but based on the cover of the videos, she looked young. He couldn’t see her face, which he respected, but still decided to click on a video.
Indulging in her top video, Harry watches with an open mind. But he learns it is extremely difficult when he keeps relating things back to you. He swears at one point you mentioned to him that your bed was a light shade of pink, but he could be imagining it. The sight of the woman’s bare chest has Harry’s gaze locked because he swears that’s what yours would look like if he ever saw them. The peek of hair that rests on her shoulders seems to be the same as yours, too. As the woman drags her hand down her body and towards her panties, Harry starts to feel dizzy with arousal. No one has been able to turn him on as much as you since you’ve been working with him, so the fact that his woman is able to do just that surprises him. He takes the opportunity without questioning and immediately starts palming himself over his loose shorts.
The woman continues to tease herself by rubbing her delicate fingers over her red panties–of course they’re red, Harry thinks. Only the most seductive color. Temptingly, she nudges the tip of her finger into the lace, teasing the audience with her edging. But that draws Harry’s eyes more than he thought. Removing his hand from his throbbing cock, he pauses the video when the woman’s hands are in full view. He zooms in and recognizes the color of the woman’s nails; white and yellow. But not just any woman now, no.
It was you. Harry was sure of it.
As if Harry thought he was dizzy before, he was fully nauseous with shock and arousal now. His eyes can barely believe the sight before him, consuming the video as if it will flash away any second. He rips off his shorts quickly and has his bare cock in his hand in mere seconds. Milliseconds even. His tip was viciously leaking, the slit pulsing and pink. After what felt like ages you finally, slowly and cautiously, remove your underwear. You spread your legs wide enough so Harry (and the audience) can see your fluttering cunt, naked and needy.
God, Harry doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on in his life. Is it possible to die from a neverending erection?
“Fuck,” You moaned through Harry’s laptop as your painted fingers rubbed generous circles over your throbbing clit. The one word and Harry’s hand was gliding speedily over his cock, wasting no time in the world. Usually, Harry likes to take his time and even tease himself a bit, but with the sight of your gorgeous body straight in front of his greedy eyes, he couldn’t tear away. He couldn’t halt the dangerously quick movement of his hand going up and down on his shaft, chasing a high he’s wanted to for so long. Just as you slip a finger into your cunt, Harry spurts out his selfish orgasm, ropes of white splattering over his tattooed stomach. He barely comprehended calling out your name as he came, and even though it was heedless, he doesn’t regret it. That was one of the most relieving finishes he’s ever had, yet it still felt incomplete somehow, like there was something missing.
He knew deep down inside that he would never truly be sedated until you were physically with him, but he knew that wouldn’t happen. At least any time soon. So for now, this was the best he was going to get.
But that didn’t stop him from going through your account. Harry watched two more videos–without touching himself surprisingly–before he got the courage to message you. His cock was plump and insatiable, wetness dribbling at his tip. He shakily clicked on your profile’s messaging box before asking for a request. He doesn’t second-guess himself because he knows he would never send it if he did that. So with lust as his guide, he hits send.
DaylightDaddy [verified]: Hi I just saw some of your videos and I was impressed.
Impressed? That’s what he calls the incessant throb of his dick? Why did he start off like that?
Harry knows that he has more of a page than some small influencers on this site, including you. He hopes that you’ll be more inclined to respond because he’s verified. But he then realized that you might not even be online to see it. He knows that you don’t work today, but it is the middle of the day and you’re probably doing something much more important than–
babyh0ney: really? thank you so much. i’m a fan of your work myself…
Harry felt his heart beating wildly in his chest. You were a fan of him? You watched his videos? Did you know it was him like he knew it was you?
DaylightDaddy [verified]: Really?
babyh0ney: yes
babyh0ney: i wish i could attract the people like you do
DaylightDaddy [verified]: I’d be happy to help
What was he suggesting? Harry didn’t even know what he was typing. His fingers were moving faster than his logic.
babyh0ney: how do i become more attractive?
Harry nearly laughs at that. You were one of the more alluring people he’s ever seen or met, including all the celebrities he’s watched in movies. You were different. The best kind of different.
With the protection of his own screen and the chance you don’t know who you’re actually talking to, Harry responds with confidence.
DaylightDaddy [verified]: Honey, you’re one of the most attractive women on here
Your heart skips an unexpected beat from the words on the screen. You weren’t naive. It was obvious this man was flirting with you, but why? To ask for a request for free? To do a collaboration? There is no way this man, a verified star with devilish talent and tattoos galore, would want to do a video with you. In a strange way, you were extremely attracted to him. You weren’t lying when you said you had been a fan of him. In the back of your mind and deep in your soul he resembled Harry in the slightest, mainly from the placement of his tattoos. Some tattoos looked just like Harry’s, but you refused to stare long enough to fantasize.
Unsure of how to reply, you deflect.
babyh0ney: thank you…but have you seen the women on here?
DaylightDaddy [verified]: Yes, that’s how I know I’m right
A heated rush flows through your skin and bundles in your cheeks. You never realized how touch-starved, horny, and lonely you were until some random guy on the internet made you blush. What has the world become?
babyh0ney: but you haven’t even seen my face
Without even trying, you confirmed Harry’s assumption. There was no way you knew it was him you were messaging. Should he spill the beans and admit that he’s seen your face? Or should he play it cool? Well, one is going to make him sound like a stalker, so he might want to go with the ladder.
DaylightDaddy [verified]: I don’t need to. I just know
babyh0ney: why are you really texting me? it doesn’t seem like you want a request…
It was so like you; to ask a serious question when Harry was trying to flirt. You always have to know every little detail. Harry had a love-hate relationship with the fact.
Suddenly, like a lightbulb over his head, Harry had an idea. Something that would benefit both of you, and something that might make Harry feel a little less selfish.
DaylightDaddy [verified]: I do
DaylightDaddy [verified]: But you said you wanted to appear more attractive and I can help
DaylightDaddy [verified]: So what is your favorite thing to do?
You blink at the screen before you. No one’s ever asked what you liked before. It’s always what they want, and if it was something that you refused to do then they just left the conversation. Simple as that. But this person was different. Maybe it was because he was in the industry himself and he knows what it’s like to receive random requests. Whatever his reason for it, you were slightly more confident.
babyh0ney: well i like to use my toys in my requests so the videos aren’t as long
DaylightDaddy [verified]: Favorite toy?
babyh0ney: my bullet because it makes me come fast
babyh0ney: but i haven’t used it in a video yet
Harry could barely type. The swelling of his cock was overwhelming. He couldn’t stop imagining you on your light pink bed sheets, all spread out and wide, with a small, vibrating bullet lodged into your sopping cunt. He roughly palms down on his bulge to ease the immense ache.
Before Harry even had the chance to respond, you sent another message.
babyh0ney: i sent you a video if you want
babyh0ney: and you could give me some advice?
Harry’s inkling of a plan seemed to be setting into motion, and he didn’t even have to roll the ball much. He’s glad that you’re the one suggesting the video more than he is because it proves that you want it. Maybe not as much as he does, but the desire is there. He feels that familiar tug of attraction between you both, and he wonders if that feeling is traveling through the technology.
DaylightDaddy [verified]: Perfect. Just do exactly what you do.
DaylightDaddy [verified]: Let me send you the money first
babyh0ney: but you’re helping me
DaylightDaddy [verified]: Honey, you know I got the money
DaylightDaddy [verified]: I asked for a request
babyh0ney: but this is different
You’re still not going to take his money? Are you just universally stubborn?
DaylightDaddy [verified]: Why are you so stubborn?
Harry doesn’t realize it until after he sent it that that message may sound a bit personal. How is he to know how stubborn you are if he didn’t actually know you as a person?
babyh0ney: you don’t even know me
babyh0ney: so i guess i can take your money lol
Harry sends the money with ease and no regret. He has been waiting the past week to be able to send you that money so you can finally get your fucking car fixed. But like he mentioned, you’re just too damn stubborn to accept the money from anyone. But when it’s a stranger that you’ll never talk to again on a porn website, it’s fine…
Harry knows that you won’t receive his money until after you send the video, so he waits impatiently. After a minute, he forces himself to leave the chat. He scrolls down your page, mesmerized by your beauty on the covers. But he’s also a little ashamed. He’s ashamed that he is doing this in order to talk to you because he’s afraid of what you will and won’t say in real life. He’s ashamed that he’s been avoiding you because he feels so strongly about you that it makes his insides nearly explode, but in the greatest way possible. It’s insane for him to admit that to himself, but it’s true.
He likes you.
–
Did you take a risk? Yes. Are you fucking insane for it? Yes with a side of fucking yes.
It’s been a half an hour since you texted DaylightDaddy. But you’re just so fucking nervous for some reason. At first, you tried to use the bullet like you would as if you were recording, but you could not concentrate for the life of you. Your fingers were trembling, your stomach was too tight, and your mind was a wandering catastrophe.
Because of your incessant craziness, you strolled through the man’s account. You should have been focusing on sending him his requested video that he paid for, even though he was supposed to be helping you. You could have at least given him a discount, but you didn’t feel like arguing for once. In that way, he reminded you of Harry.
Harry.
Even throughout the whole interaction with this random stranger, you were still finding subtle ways to relate them back to Harry. Some of the things the guy said seemed like such a Harry thing to say and you hated your mind for always resorting back to him like it was the only thing you knew. Why did he have to invade your mind and why did you want him to stay in it? It was the endless toxic loop that you were trapped in. It’s been one day since you’ve seen Harry, but it feels wrong after last night. Everything feels wrong and empty and unsaid. So much unsaid. You wanted him so badly to admit to you why he was doing what he was doing, and when he did, what did you do? Freeze up and panic? He was being vulnerable, and you just stood still and watched him leave.
A regretful tremble jerks your bottom lip and you feel the urge to cry. Not of sadness but of frustration with yourself. Harry is one of the greatest guys you’ve ever met and of course, you find a way to fuck it up somehow.
And although you want to push away the thoughts completely and focus on this requested video, the mystery man reminds you a lot of Harry. Like scary similar. Those tattoos were burning in your eyes, pulling you to look at them. Breaking some self-control, you watch one video. Just a short one. One where his tattoos are in full view, so your insatiable mind could be greedy and get off to this video of lookalike Harry for your flirty customer.
You fast forward until the man’s hands are on his cock, stroking all its thickness with precise teasing. As your waste of space panties start to get wet, your eyes immediately hook on the tattoos on his hands. A cross right by his thumb. You pause the video where his arm is in full view.
No fucking way.
There is no fucking way that’s Harry. What are the chances? Impossible, that’s what they are. Maybe this man just had the same under his index finger and near his thumb. Maybe he had the same anchor adorning his wrist like a large bracelet. Maybe…
Maybe you need to realize this is fucking Harry. And he found you somehow. Does he know it’s you?
–
With shaky fingers, you finally send the video.
You feel your heart plummet, the few seconds that passed already make you anxious. You had recorded the video, just like you were going to. Except you didn’t do it for DaylightDaddy. No, you did it for Harry.
What if you were wrong? What if it wasn’t Harry?
Is it possible to get sued for talking and moaning another guy’s name to a customer? You might just find out.
babyh0ney: *Video Attachment*
With shaky fingers, he finally presses play.
Harry’s head is dizzy with lust and his body is flooded with arousal. He watches intently as your body comes into view, nothing but panties on. Your camera is angled directly between your legs, so he can only see the underside of your breasts.
With lust bubbling in his eyes, Harry locks on your every move. Your hand massages all over your skin, exploring like Harry would die to do. Your nail polished fingers skim over the black laced panties, teasing your hidden opening. Harry is all for teasing and edging, but this is the most difficult thing he’s ever done. It’s physically and mentally hard to not orgasm on the spot. He will come when you come.
His hand drifts gently over to his own cock, which has greedily come once to your videos. When you go slow, he goes slow, so every minor and delicate movement you make, he replicates and it’s killing him. Finally, after what felt like a decade of torture, you shred your panties off slowly but surely.
Harry’s breath gets caught in his throat at the sight. He had already seen what your body looks like, but it was different knowing this video was just for him. Well, DaylightDaddy. The feeling in him was something primal. He loved knowing that this–all of you–was just for him. He wanted that all the time. He wanted you.
While Harry is copying your motions and lost in his own admissions, he barely notices you grabbing the small pink bullet and turning it on. You gently collect some of your wetness that was leaking out and cover the vibrator. Harry groans to himself at the lewd sight before him; he never imagined you would be such a dirty girl, but he never does know with you.
As you insert the bullet, a loud, breathless moan rolls out from your tongue. He’s mesmerized as your cunt clenches tightly around the object, body consuming the intense feeling. Based on your trembling body and echoing moans, you were going to come soon too. Your sounds were spurring him on, making his hand fly brisker up and down his shaft until his release was near. He didn’t want to close his eyes, but if he imagined your noises good enough, he could translate them as moans of his name.
“Harry…”
Yeah, that sounded like a dream. Like heaven coming from your pouty lips that he thinks about kissing way more than he should.
“Fuck, Harry.”
It almost sounds real. That’s how he knows he’s consumed in you too much for his own good.
“I wish you were here with me…touching me.”
Wait.
When he opens his eyes, you are still on his screen, moaning and falling apart in front of him just like before. But when he replayed the video a few seconds back, you really were saying those things. You were outright moaning his name, chanting it like a fucking mantra, while holding your legs wide open. It was a fever dream, a wet dream. You were lying on your bed with your cunt bare and soaked, whimpering his name and wishing he was there with you.
Losing all form of restraint, Harry fists his cock like never before. His thumb teases his leaking tip for a moment before jacking off with no regret. He feels his balls quickly tense, just like all the muscles in his body at the sight and sound of you.
Your dainty hand floats down to your throbbing clit, rubbing in tight circles in order to get to your high. The arch in your back becomes more prominent and your moans transform into airy gasps when the vibrations become nearly too much.
“I’m gonna come, H. Let me come.”
“Fuck. Let it go. Let it all go, Honey,” he didn’t even think about the words that were leaving his lips. The small nickname was cute. It matched your profile and the sweetness of all you were. You were talking to him as if he would say something back, so he did. He responded as if you were going to listen to him, and he didn’t know if you would, but you did.
Cum spurted from his cock intensely, splattering onto his breathless body and decorating his tattoos. He peeks at his computer screen and watches your orgasm spill out of you heavenly around the bullet. With big breaths, you eventually reach over to your phone and cut the recording, still hiding your face. Stunned to completion, Harry mindlessly reaches over to his nightstand to wipe himself down.
Somehow, some way, you knew it was him. He knew it was you. Harry had a feeling that you knew he knew it was you. So, with some sudden clarity, Harry finally messages you back.
DaylightDaddy [verified]: What are you doing to me?
—
i decide to leave for months, drop this chunk of writing, and leave y’all on a cliffhanger… sorry not sorry!! :D
request: Kk so it 2 in the morning and I’m horny so fem reader x tom Holland or Nathan Drake which ever you prefer where tom/ Nathan is always cocky in public and reader is shy and quiet but In bed the opposite and reader is like really dominant and stuff and Tom/Nathan is kinda like babyish idk only if your ok with it tho tyyyyy
warnings: no plot smut; unprotected sex, dirty talking, dom/sub dynamics, lovie dovie pet names :)
note: i wrote this very fast a while ago and found this in my drafts. also, i’m not a huge fan of sub!male but i tried it anyway (probably won’t do again)
(slight) sub!tom x (slight) dom!reader
—
“we made it official in january,” tom chats with his co-worker, harrison, and his wife that are seated across the table from you. tom squeezes your hand on the white-cloth table. tonight was a simple dinner with tom’s best employee who has been working with him for years. they grew to be great friends over time.
“you always did know how to close a deal,” both men share a hearty laugh while you smile softly at tom. he returns a smile graciously, making your chest bubble with love.
even months after the wedding, that honeymoon feeling never faded away. every day with tom was like a dream. you couldn’t have asked for anyone or anything else.
“well, you two make just the loveliest pair,” harrison’s wife compliments with a fond expression. yours and tom’s smiles deepen with love and warmth as you stare into each other’s eyes.
“we do, don’t we, darling?” tom puts an arm around your shoulders and pulls you in for a forehead kiss. a heated rush runs through your head at the action. you were never good at pda; it always made you flushed and you couldn’t hide how it affected you.
you talked little throughout the rest of the dinner. sure, if someone asked you a question or two you’d answer, but you were never the most talkative. you grew up a listener, curious to hear what others had to say. however, when it was just you and tom, you were more open and detailed when you spoke.
especially when it came to the bedroom. you didn’t know you were that talkative until you met tom. well, until you had sex with tom.
it was freeing and comforting to know that there was always someone who was just as curious as you. so, out of curiosity, you married him.
even with separate chairs, you leaned close into tom’s side as the night continued. your hands intertwined under the table, resting on your smooth legs. tom would rub reassuring circles over your knuckles and occasionally kiss your temple to remind you that he was right there. his little actions of care was something that you not only craved but grew to need.
a familiar, fuzzy feeling burned in your lower stomach that you had to endure until you went home.
when the dinner ended, you all said your polite goodbyes and shared charming smiles. tom and you walked toward the car and headed home.
—
as tom and you got ready for bed, your need for him was growing uncomfortable.
“tom.”
“yes, baby?”
“i need you.”
with the simplest words, you were crawling over tom’s lap in an instant. your silk nightgown rose to your hips as your legs spread over his hard bulge underneath his boxers.
“you’re already hard?” your hands rested on his muscular shoulders as you rolled your hips in a circular motion. tom groaned and put his hands on your hips to guide you. “poor tommy.”
“‘course i am. looked fucking gorgeous in that dress tonight,” he huffed out as your movements got faster. “fuck. need to be inside you.”
“why should i let you?” you teasingly questioned as you pulled down the delicate straps of your gown, revealing your pebbled nipples. licking your lips, you stopped rolling your hips until tom gave you an answer. he puffed out, irritated at how much control you have over him.
“i waited all night. talked to harry and madeline the whole time so i wouldn’t be too tempted to take you in the bathroom stall,” tom negotiated breathlessly.
“hmm. i guess that’s valid enough,” you shifted your panties to the side while tom hastingly slid down his boxers. his eagerness to be with you always caused a smug smile on your face. you were just as eager, but way better at hiding it clearly. “will you be good?”
“for you, always.” you smirked at his answer with warmth inside of you. even during foreplay and dirty talk, he still managed to make you giddy.
you rubbed your arousal against his cock, edging you both. without wasting any more time, you lifted your body up and angled his cock deep inside of you. you both hiss at the feeling as if you’ve never been together. but your bodies knew each other more than anyone else you knew.
his smooth, rough hands caress your sides as you pick up your pace. your breasts bounce as both of your moans collide in the heated air. your hands crawl around his neck and dig into his scalp. your cunt squeezes his cock causing him to whimper with a rough bite of his lips.
“k-kiss me,” tom moans with his head moving loosely.
“what, no ‘please’?”
“baby, please fucking kiss me,” his fingers twist your nipples, nearly stealing all your words from you. you bite your lip at the pinch of pain, leaning into his touch.
“that’s more like it.”
your lips crash together in a burning kiss. the fire between you two never seemed to dwindle, and you both melted together as if you were one. your hips never ruined their accelerated pace, even when tom began to thrust up into you.
the additional movement had you both moaning and groaning desperately against each other’s mouths. too immersed in tom’s lips, you were blind to notice tom slipping his hand between you both. he slyly rubbed your throbbing clit, getting you closer to your orgasm.
sweat dampened at your foreheads while your legs burned from vertical repetition. you felt tom’s cock twitch inside of you, alerting you that he was very close.
“s-shit, y/n,” he shutters out, “you’re too good to me.”
“come inside of me. i need your cum in me, tommy,” you encouragingly demanded in shaky breaths. obeying, tom releases inside of you, coating your walls.
“come with me,” tom whispered in your ear, finalizing your orgasm. you clutch around his length, squeezing everything out of him. the sensation of his fingers and his orgasm have you coming right soon after. he guides your hips as you ride out your blissful highs together.
all that can be heard are your panting breaths and your racing hearts as your forehead falls onto his shoulder. tom caresses and rubs your back, cock still sitting warm inside of you. neither of you make any movements, too afraid to ruin the euphoric experience. you both close your eyes, but know better than to fall asleep like this. you both know you’d feel sore and achy if you didn’t lay down on the bed.
but you wanted his cock to stay warm and tucked into you forever.
“c’mon, darling, let’s go to sleep,” tom insists, slowly lifting you up.
“but i want you in me,” you whine, not caring how dramatic you may sound. tom reassures you that he’ll slide back inside of you once you’re lying down.
tom’s body disconnects from yours and you feel a wrath of coldness flood your body. you remove your panties completely and discard them somewhere across your bedroom floor.
once you’re laying down comfortably, tom fulfills his promise and gently slides back into you. you hum at the satisfying thickness and fullness that fills you. you can’t help but rub your ass into him, causing him to hiss from behind you.
“goodnight, you minx,” tom tucks your hair to the side and kisses your cheek lovingly.
“goodnight,” you smile, all warm and cozy.
it’s easy to fall asleep when you’re entwined with the love of your life.
—
something old to satisfy y’all.. hope it sedates you for now
summary: harry gets hurt while surfing and, to distract yourself, you willinging fix him up…however, it worked too well.
words: 2.8k
warnings: tsitp SPOILERS, concepts/thoughts or cheating, blood/wound, TENSIONNN
note: I’M BAACCKK!!! i’m so excited to be back because i love writing!! this is basically s3e6 of the summer i turned pretty, which i JUST binged/finished recently. if you haven’t watched it, i tried my best to be descriptive yet not make it too wordy/overwhelming. ugghhh i’m in my feels. anyway, i hope y’all enjoy my COMEBACK! *story is merely a concept #nocopyrightplease*
tsitp!harry x tsitp!reader
—
The small stack of wedding invitations stare at you, waiting for you to finish your spiral of appreciation. The haunting list of to-do’s lingers untouched on the wooden table in front of you. You pick up the pen, hesitate, chew on the end, and eventually drop it back on the table. You sigh, unsure of where you even left off.
Planning the wedding was supposed to be something you looked forward to doing. You’ve dreamed of doing so since you were a child. However, it’s the biggest headache of your life.
You love Niall. You knew him like the back of your hand. The last four years have been a whirlwind, but you couldn’t have imagined surviving college with anyone else. But sometimes, it’s hard for him to plan out his life, even something as simple as his next meal.
When he told you he had to take an extra semester, you supported him, of course. But deep down, you sighed in disappointment. You were never embarrassed to be with him, but moments like that frightened you when you took a glimpse into the future. The thing about being with Niall is, you never really think about the future. He is just so present and in-the-moment, you forget about all the responsibilities, agendas, and problems. He makes you carefree, and he’s the closest thing to happiness in a bottle. Deciding to marry him was the easiest “yes” and commitment you’ve ever made.
The past four weeks have been nonstop planning. You and Niall were in agreement about having the wedding at your guys’ childhood beach house. It was nostalgic and a perfect tribute to his mother, who was practically your second mom. You’ve been busting your ass at work, saving every penny for the wedding, while Niall is interning for his dad to prove he is serious about it. It’s no news that no one in either of your families was thrilled about a young engagement, but these past weeks have shown them that you guys are truly set on this. Your love for each other is authentic and true, and you believe there’s nothing stronger than that.
When your mother showed up to your bridal shower after no contact for two weeks, you were ecstatic. Her coming and providing that unconditional support you craved was truly a blessing, and it honestly gave you the courage to proceed with the wedding at all. You couldn’t have imagined walking down the aisle, making it to the altar, glancing at the dozens of strange people, and finding your mother’s spot empty. It would’ve ruined you.
But now that she’s trying her hardest to be as supportive as possible, you’re trying your hardest to take care of all the pre-wedding stuff. After some time, Niall’s dad agreed to pay for almost everything, so you were able to quit your job back home and remain at the beach house for the time being. Ni’s been so busy with work recently that you’ve been doing most of the organizing alone. Well, not completely alone…
The back door to the beach house creaks open, a very slight, coastal breeze sneaking in. Soon, wet feet are padding the wooden floor unrhythmically, causing your head to peak over your shoulder.
The figure you see in your peripheral is no other than Harry, Niall’s older brother. He was a year older than Ni, making him two years older than you. It’s still so strange seeing him multiple times a day at the beach house. He’s been all the way across the country, finishing up college, and starting med school.
It’s been two years since he's been home.
But no one knows that he came to the beach house in December, while you were there.
You hated comparing the two brothers in your head, but you sometimes wondered how different your life would be if you ended up with Harry instead.
Harry was your dream boy since you discovered what the word “love” even was. While your brother and Niall always had it out for you, Harry was there for you. He taught you how to dance, took you to the boardwalk during summer, let you ride his bike, and always remembered the little things. At one point in your life, you knew everything about him. Except for the fact that he liked you back five summers ago.
“I thought you knew!”
Those words were from four summers ago, just a few months after you and Harry broke up. His mom had recently passed away and it was a terribly grieving time for everyone that knew her. And Harry–he was always carrying the heaviest load somehow. He found out his mom was sick and found out she got cheated on before Niall, attempting to protect him from it all. Needless to say, that argument didn’t end well. Yet, Harry always puts others before himself. It’s just how he is and how he’s always been–so empathetic, so giving, so loving. Old you would admit you wished he didn’t take back what he said the night you decided to choose Niall four years ago.
You didn’t regret kissing Niall. You wished Harry hadn’t seen it, but it was inevitable. Niall was present, while Harry couldn’t be. He gave up on you. You wanted someone that could be there for you and Niall was.
Now, you couldn’t sleep. Both boys willingly gave you the queen bed in the motel and you couldn’t sleep. Harry to your right and Niall to your left. The drumming and rumbling of the storm was your mental excuse on why you were wide awake. It was totally not because of your spiraling thoughts about the two boys on either side of you.
“Y/N…” Your heart hums with your name in Harry’s mouth. It’s quiet–barely above a whisper–and so soothing. His voice was truly the calm during the storm.
“I didn’t mean it.” He talks as if he knows you’re listening, “What I said earlier, I didn’t mean it. I still want you. Of course I do–”
“Harry–”
“You don’t need to say anything. Not right now. I just, I wanted you to know.”
“Hey, Y/N.”
You take a breath, bringing yourself back to the present. Harry was out surfing all day, so you hadn’t seen him much. Not until now. He is dripping wet as he trudges behind you, small thuds with every other step. Your eyebrows crease in concern, turning ever so slightly in your chair.
Drip, drip, drip. He’s dripping everywhere.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just got myself on the fin. It’s no big deal.”
“Do you need any help or–”
“No, it’s okay, I’ll be–I’m fine,” He waves you off in a way that anyone else would find reassuring, but you know he always undermines himself. You didn’t even get a peak at the wound. It was probably a little worse than he let on to be. When he broke his arm at twelve years old, he told everyone he just hit his funny bone. Except for your mom–he was always honest with her–which is how he ended up in the ER funny enough.
He drags his feet up the narrow staircase. Your face drops in small disappointment, probably because you needed a distraction from all the wedding planning and thank-you letters. Helping Harry clean up his boo-boo would be a nice break.
Without much thought to it, you follow Harry up the stairs. After the first two steps, you turn and immediately notice the large drops of blood trailing up into the bathroom. You gasp unwillingly and don’t hesitate rushing to the bathroom. The door was wide open, like he was expecting you.
The amount of sun leaking in through the blinds created an almost romantic and almost movie-like cast of light over Harry. His back is hunched over while he sits with his legs on either side of the tub. He bows his head in sudden defeat, closing his eyes in increasing pain.
“Harry, oh my God. You’re bleeding everywhere!”
“Y/N, I’m fine. I’ve already stopped the bleeding,” His voice sounds rougher as his hand presses the clean, white hand towel to his thigh.
“Let me get you something to clean it up. Seriously, Harry,” You rummage through the cabinet underneath the sink until you find the first aid kit hiding in the back. No way would he be able to crouch and dig like that with whatever is making him bleed that much. You take a seat across from him, legs on either side of the tub.
“Let go of the towel.”
“I’m fine. You can go. I’m a med student, remember?” He says with strain.
“You are not…fine. Just let me help you for fucks sake.” You demand him to take off the towel again and he begrudgingly slides it off his thigh.
“Oh my God...” Blood adorns the outside of his thigh, but he’s right, he did stop bleeding. Once you get a good look at his wound, you realize there was no mistaking that for a scratch or “it’s no big deal”. A harsh gash decorates the top of his right thigh as if a knife slowly dug across his smooth skin. “I think you might need stitches.”
“And you probably already know that, Doctor.” This is the second time you and Harry have gotten this close since he’s been back in town and your nervous system is acting out seeing him like this; vulnerable and hurt. He’s always closed off and guarding his feelings for the sake of others. It’s… different to see him in such a polar opposite state. One where he lets someone take care of him for once, even if it’s reluctantly. It made your heart skip a beat or two thinking about it.
You inch closer to him, leaning over and grabbing the small attachable head on the tub. You turn the bathwater on and softly rinse the blood from his body. The moment is quiet, nothing but the water running. Harry watches as the maroon mixes with the clear water before trickling down the drain. He was so focused on keeping his eyes on the moving liquids and not on you that he didn’t notice you stop.
When you turn off the water, you latch the head back in its holder and then grab the hydrogen peroxide. Without warning, you pour the burning liquid on his wound.
“Ah,” Harry immediately winces, instinctively leaning down and curling towards you in agony. His head is insanely close to you, practically resting on your shoulder. His damp hair tickles the shoulder of your blouse. You stop quickly and try not to act too affected by it by looking straight ahead. But that was your mistake.
Attempting to stare at the tiled wall gave you a perfect view of his sculpted back. Ridged muscles run from the top to bottom, squeezing and tensing from the acid-like burn in his thigh. The sun and the water from the ocean bathed his tan skin, gracing him with a golden, dewy glow that was so cinematic you almost forgot who you were. You almost forgot who you both were.
You swallow thickly before pouring a tad bit more on to his wound. He winces again and his hand goes to latch on the side of the tub for support, but he accidentally grabs your thigh. His large hand holds the skin just above your knee with a small grip, causing your heart to race in your chest. He breathes out and it’s shaky, but his hand doesn’t really move from your thigh. He’s lost a good amount of blood, he’s probably just in a haze. He probably doesn’t even notice.
When his thumb starts caressing your thigh in a soothing motion, you nearly faint. He was too close to you now.
Pretend like you don’t even notice.
With the bandage in hand, you cover his gash with a pad and then gently wrap the bandage around his leg. After tucking the bandage in, your work is done, and your hand is left resting unbelievingly over his injured thigh.
“Thank you,” Harry whispers as if any louder volume would break glass—so delicate and fragile.
“Yeah—sure.” You swallow, avoiding eye contact. But with Harry, that’s nearly impossible.
The length of silence between each response was filled with much more than sound. The intensity of the stare held between you two was enough to kill. Without even moving your eyes, you feel yourself glaring deeply into his and searching for a reason. Searching for the reason why you’re marrying his brother and not the broody man before you.
“Y/N?” Harry’s voice is weak and quiet as his head tilts up and looks at you. It’s the kind of voice you hear that’ll make you so empathetic, you’ll do anything to cure them of their pain. It’s even worse when that voice says your name and that voice is from the person who you’ve been pining after since you were a kid.
Had. You’re getting married in August to his brother, remember? Not him. Get it together.
Trying to keep a poker face when Harry’s wet hair is dangling over his mossy, green eyes was a challenge you thought you’d never have to face again.
“Yes?” You murmured as if someone would hear you and accuse you of the worst.
Your faces were centimeters apart. You could almost feel his soft, shaky breaths on your skin. The rosiness of his lips, the gentle drip of his hair, the tiny stars in his eyes–it was too romantic and even amorous. Your heart was drumming so quickly and profoundly in your ears, it made you feel guilty, even if you were unwillingly feeling so emotional. Why did you want to kiss him so damn badly?
It’s a curse to want something he gave away.
Or did you just not fight?
“Can you help me? I think I’m going to go take a nap.”
You said that when you were with Niall, you were always in the moment. But never in your life had you felt so endangered by fear, yet so alive with a person. He feels like your cause of death and greatest chance of survival all at once. How can this one longing moment feel more intimate and alluring than anything you’ve ever experienced?
“You’ve lost a lot of blood, you probably shouldn’t be sleeping.”
He hums shortly, “That’s for concussions.”
He pushes himself off the side of the tub, his hand leaving your bare thigh. His palm puts a soft pressure on your shoulder as he stands. Your heart leaps, electrified from the connection of his hand purposefully touching you.
Drip, drip, drip. He’s dripping everywhere.
He’s everywhere.
You rise with hesitant legs, your hand over his now. “You got it?”
“Yeah, yeah. I can walk,” He grunts subduedly as he limps out of the bathroom before you have the chance to even think about stopping him. There was just too much haziness clouding your mind right now. You release a pent-up sigh and fall back on the tub. Each of your hands incredulously land on your lower thigh and shoulder, making you immediately reminisce the security, warmth, and tenderness of his palms.
You wished you could say that now he’s here it’s like “no time has passed” and “nothing has changed,” but that’s simply not true. It’s been four years since the breakup and many, many things have changed. Niall was your fiancé now.
But Harry’s lips were the closest they’ve been in years. And while everything has changed, the feeling that rattled you up and consumed you whole when he looked at you hadn’t. That burning flush on your skin paired with that beautiful buzz in your heart never seemed to falter, even after all these years. You should’ve known never to get that close in proximity to him, but something within you just couldn’t help it. Harry was like your first tattoo–the kind of love that you’d always be attached to and that stays imprinted on you forever. You wanted to know what he wanted, even though it’s beyond selfish because what would you do if he confessed his love for you right now? Call off the wedding? Run away with Niall’s brother again? None of it is realistic or practical in the slightest. But just maybe, knowing how he felt about you after all this time would heal a broken part within you.
You tell yourself that you’re happy and that you love Niall because you do! But there’s something whispering in your ear, restraining you from running to Niall with open arms. You always knew that inwardly, but wouldn’t dare admit that to anyone. Even your best friend because then it became real. Were you just too blinded by heartbreak four years ago and just agreed to the stable option? The available option?
Is anything stable about Harry?
That feeling. In the deepest depths of your soul, you knew you were tied to Harry. The thought of that tie being seared scared you enough to want him close enough to know, but not close enough to keep.
You should’ve known never to get that close to him because you know you’ll regret it.
Unless you don’t.
—
SHOULD I MAKE A PART 2?? with some actual *action* of course!! i just love to tease y’all. do we like tsitp!harry???
also PLEASE send me your thoughts/feels on the actual show tsitp!! i’m frustrated lol
summary: you can’t stop thinking about your first orgasm, so you try to relieve yourself of the ache. when you’re left unsatisfied, you reach out to harry for some guided practice.
words: 6.6k
requested: a bunch!
warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [masturbation, dry humping (?), thigh riding/rubbing], praise kink, dirty talk), language, and two horny best friends
note: this is a new series i plan on writing (but i don’t know if i want it to have a plot or just blurbs)!! i literally have so many requests (what’s new…), but i have a lot of motivation to write this right now, plus i’ve gotten a lot of requests for it as well. i hope you guys don’t mind the delay of my other writings… x PART THREE
bestfriendrry x inexperienced!reader
—
It’s been a week since you last saw Harry.
Yeah, you’ve texted here and there. Maybe if you saw some funny video that you just had to tag him in or vice versa you would, but you haven’t actually seen him. Not physically. You think if you did, you might just die.
The second that you rose up from his bathroom floor after having your first orgasm ever (and mind you, it was mind-blowing), you stiffly cuddled up with him on the couch to watch the movie he picked out. If he seemed confused by your quietness or hardened body, he didn’t say it. Your head on his chest would vibrate every time he laughed at something funny, but it was hard for you to voice some of your own giggles out. You couldn’t focus on anything other than his body pressed against yours, so similarly yet so differently to how it was merely hours before.
From your position, you were able to feel his heart beating, organ pumping blood and keeping him alive. Stable. And that’s all you felt from him; his stableness and calmness. Your heart was thrashing around anxiously in your rising chest while he was just calm. His lively beat was as calm as the ocean waves, so relaxing that you drifted off to sleep before the movie had ended.
In a deep, much-needed slumber, Harry could feel your body loosen up. He didn’t want to say anything, but he could feel your tenseness. That was the opposite of what he wanted to happen. Orgasms were supposed to make a person relaxed and stress-free, but your body felt nothing like that. He could practically hear all your anxious gears overthinking in your little head. He wanted to pry every thought out and reassure you that whatever you’re thinking is fine and that he’s there for you. But he knew he had coaxed enough out of you when you spilled out your biggest secret to him, earning yourself your first orgasm in the process.
So, Harry never brought it up. Not through the funny parts of the movie, the romantic scenes, or even the ads. He just let the air between you guys grow incredibly thick with your silence, but pretended like he could see through the fog. He remained as nonchalant as possible–it was his forte after all. After you fell asleep, Harry let the movie ride out. He tried to pay attention the whole time instead of pondering what you might be thinking, but he didn’t do too well. If someone were to quiz him on the film, he would fail horribly.
Harry shuts the television off and cradles you up into his arms. Your head lumped onto his shoulder like dead weight before you snuggled up right into his neck. Harry had carried you many times before, and even more times while you’re asleep like that, but the way his skin was getting all warm and melty was something he’d never experienced with you. Your nose was right up against his pulse and it made him feel sensitive and vulnerable, but also so warm and alive. It was really hard for him to stay calm.
When he reached his bedroom, he gently unwrapped you from his body and laid you on his bed. He watched in awe as you immediately curled into a ball like a fetus, trying to hold on to something for comfort. After a few minutes, Harry joined you in his bed and threw your hands around him. Your subconscious didn’t hesitate to scoot closer and bathe in his body heat, snuggling into your favorite pillow; his chest.
It was really hard to stay calm.
You both woke up and went on your way for that day as if nothing happened. You had an afternoon lecture that you had to catch and Harry had to go to work. It was alright. Everything was fine. Everything was normal. Right?
But you couldn’t stop thinking about Harry.
Normally, that would never have been a problem. He’s your best friend, so of course you think about him all the time! Sometimes, you’ll see a sign or a poster on the news board when walking to class that reminds you of one of your guys’ inside jokes that you just have to send to him. If he sees something too, he’ll send it your way. You both find it fun and endearing at the same time because that’s what best friends do; so alike and attuned that they’re always on the same wavelength of thinking. It was normal. But the way you’re obsessively thinking about Harry isn’t normal. You couldn’t even convince yourself that it was and that’s saying something.
Your mind kept drifting off to the way everything played out last week. Even when you were in class on Friday afternoon (one week later) you just couldn’t help thinking of the cold bathroom floor and the fiery body pressed against you. It was so contrasting–it was so wrong. The angel and the devil on your shoulders were bickering more than ever, and you didn’t have a clue whose side you were on.
Harry’s assertive voice echoed in your head, almost as if you were trying to remember it. You had never heard him talk the way he was talking to you last Thursday. It was deep, sultry, and demanding—something you never would have known you liked. You’re not even sure if you actually liked that or if you just liked when Harry did it. Well, you don’t really have anything to base your sexual likings on yet…
When his hands delicately touched and teased you, down your stomach, down your thighs, you felt it. You felt it for days after. His touch lingered like a ghost on your skin, etching a tattoo of himself on you forever. It was blinding and fogging your vision so much, you couldn’t even focus in class. The second that your Friday class was over, you shot straight home. You didn’t look at your phone as you hurriedly discarded your shoes and jacket and stumbled into your bedroom.
You plopped yourself on your mattress with a familiar goal in mind that you were never able to achieve before; you were going to masturbate. Now that you could do it, you were going to relieve yourself of this… stress.
It only took a few seconds before your clothes were completely off and your head was planted against the headboard. You widened your legs and watched your lips slowly pry themselves open with the stretch. You swallowed, small anxiety bubbling in your throat. But you knew what you were doing now. You knew how to do it right because Harry showed you.
Oh fuck. You should not be thinking about Harry right now.
A small amount of wetness coated your labia. It was inevitable–the second his name popped into your head, your mind began to not only recall but wander. You remembered his gravelly voice in your ear, guiding you, showing you, teasing you, praising you. You remembered the ghost of his touch that you attempted to replicate with your own, but it wasn’t the same. And of course, you remembered his bulge that was harshly pressing into your lower back, pleading to be helped. You remembered everything a little too vividly, but it made you so wet thinking about it, and it made it so easy to rub the little button that Harry showed you.
Your clit was puffy, swollen, and needy just like you. Your middle finger circled over it with desperation, snatching some of your wetness to make it sloppier. Your breath started to become unsteady as your eyes trained on your pussy, now soaking with your arousal.
This is when your mind begins to wander. You start imagining things that you haven’t done with Harry yet, but were so intrigued by. You imagined getting on your knees for him and taking him in your mouth, so you could finally relieve his bulky ache. He would encourage you, caress you, and call you a “good girl” in his thick, leather-like voice. The thought of satisfying him until he’s groaning above you has you spreading your legs wider and spinning your finger around your clit faster.
Just like Harry did, you snake your hand up to one of your peaked nipples. You found it was difficult to rub yourself while also tweaking your pebbled buds. It was definitely something you needed to gain muscle memory on, especially if you planned on doing this when you got stressed. Which was often.
You didn’t know how often you would get wet though. You hoped it wasn’t too frequently because like right now, you weren’t completely fulfilled. If you had to do this every other day, you would probably be even more upset if you weren’t satisfied each time. You felt that chase-like desire bubbling up inside of you, like with Harry, but it wasn’t nearly as blissful. Maybe the first one is always better than the rest and with each one you’ll just be a little more disappointed as time goes on. But as a shrieked moan leaves your mouth when you orgasm, a small voice in the back of your head is telling you the real reason you’re not satisfied.
Harry isn’t here.
—
On Saturday morning, after sleeping like shit under your shoe, you asked Harry if you could come over. Usually, you would have more self-control, but there was something about an orgasm that strangled and stole any self-preservation you had.
When you woke up, you went straight to the bathroom just to find out you were wet. Again. The word really? spilled from your lips before you could stop it. You assumed that you had some type of dirty dream, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it was about Harry. But you’re glad you didn’t remember it. You were hurriedly wiping up your mess and tossing your shorts in your laundry bin. In some type of rush, you took a speedy shower like it was a competition.
Then you stared at your phone, wondering if you should do it. Should you text Harry? You’ve never thought about it this much ever, but one message could mean everything if he looked at it right. What if he thought you were obsessed with him?
No, don’t think that.
Texting your best friend is normal. Asking your best friend for sexual help was normal too. Right…?
Y/N: hey, what are you doing today?
You felt a little nervous. Not because you were texting Harry but because of what your intentions were. What if he felt like you were just using him? Your heart spiked when you saw the three small bubbles.
Harry: I just got off work
Harry: Want to come over?
He knew you too well.
—
The second he texted you he was home, you went towards his place. With every red light you hit, you bubbled with anticipation, drumming your fingertips on the steering wheel. Your anxiousness turned into a ball of excitement when you were actually in front of his door.
He opened it with a charming smile, one that you recognized all too well. You welcomed yourself inside and tried to seem as normal as possible. But you couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Your mind kept wandering back to that feeling in your lower stomach.
“So… how was work?” You asked, creating some small talk as you plopped yourself on his couch. The very couch where everything started.
That was not helping.
Harry gave you a look, one with squinted eyes and a half chuckle. “Fine? What’s up?”
“What’s down?” You cringed as the words came out, your nervousness shining through.
“Why are you acting so weird? Are you okay, Doll?” Your stomach simmered at the nickname, differently than ever before. You had a feeling that name was never going to be the same for you again. You sighed, squeezing your legs together as Harry dropped himself next to you. His close proximity was nearly killing you. Not only did he radiate warmth but he smelt good—like he just showered in a tropical forest.
What is wrong with him?
“I’m not fine,” You admitted as your head fell in your hands. Harry grew concerned with scrunched eyebrows, throwing an arm around the back of the couch and waited for you to continue. When you didn’t, he asked.
“Well, d’you want to tell me what’s wrong or just sit ‘ere and complain? C’mon, Doll.”
You groaned, crossing your legs. The throbbing between them was so prominent, it was like a second heartbeat. Your hands balled into fists on your side, nails digging into your palms. Harry watched all your movements that you tried to withstrain.
“You can’t call me that anymore.”
“Woah, what?” Harry’s eyebrows jumped, extremely puzzled and surprised by your attitude. You’ve never had a problem with the name for the years he’s been saying it, so what changed?
“It’s—it’s killing me, H! Everything you’re doing is… just killing me and I don’t know why. I think I might explode. Is this what dying feels like?” You admitted, throwing your hands over your eyes again as a way to hide in embarrassment. Harry feels himself relax a bit, he even chuckles in the air you thought was thick with tension. When you hear his laugh, you look at him like he’s crazy. “This isn’t funny!”
“Oh but it is.” It was evident that Harry knew you weren’t actually upset with him. You were just innocently turned on so much that you were frustrated. And Harry so happened to be the only one to know your little secret. So why wouldn’t you come to him?
“No, you ruined me. Am I going to be… like this forever?”
“What, you mean horny? Probably.”
“Ugh, I hate you.”
“Then why are you here?” he smirks, patiently waiting for you to confess. You huffed under your breath while your eyes stared at your legs, thighs squeezing together at his cockiness. You were so annoyed at his control, but your body for some reason got off on it. You needed whatever he had because clearly only he could give it to you. “Look at me.”
You craned your neck up faster than you would have liked to admit, glaring at his darkening green eyes. A heat swirled not only in the pits of your stomach but in the air around you both, suffocating you with its tension. After gazing at your appearance for longer than necessary, his smirk deepens, which you didn’t even know was possible.
“I have a feeling…” he starts as his hand slowly creeps towards your neck from the back of the couch. “That you’re unsatisfied.”
“Yes,” You grumbled.
“Did you try to relieve your ache? Or did you just let it build up? Either way, you found yourself here.”
Your skin ran hot. Fiery hot. His hand brushed over your neck and he could definitely feel the scorching flames of your skin. Your heart was racing trying to keep up with your body’s excitement, making your eyes blown out and wide.
“I… tried to relieve it.”
“Did you do it the way I taught you?”
“…yes.”
“Did you feel satisfied?” You took a pause before responding, but Harry knew the answer.
“No,” You were honest, just like before. A part of you felt ashamed again, too. Maybe you didn’t do it right and you were just a lost cause. Instead of looking sad at your predicament like last time, Harry smirked. That fucking smirk. It meant he knew something you didn’t and that frustrated you more.
“So I was right. You just need a little help s’all,” his thick hand gently squeezed your neck, causing you to hum and close your eyes. He loved how responsive and sensitive you were, it lit a fire in him. “So how’d you do it, hm?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, walk me through it. What made you want to masturbate in the first place?”
Your eyes shot open and looked as far away from him as possible. Your body clearly stiffened and got anxious from the question. You felt your hips squirm in their tight position on the couch, begging to move. Your little button was throbbing, so much it was becoming painful.
“Don’t lie. I can’t help you then,” Harry was being taunting and condescending. A tingle sparked within you, urging you to be truthful. You hoped he would help you like before because like you said, it was getting painful and you were getting desperate.
“I-I kept thinking about last week.”
“What part?”
“Um, the whole thing,” You bit your lip, twiddling your fingers.
“Be specific.”
“Harry…” You practically whined, covering your face for the third time in embarrassment. “Can you just… make it go away please? It obviously didn’t work when I did it.”
“‘Course I will, just walk me through what happened first.”
“Fine,” You took a deep breath and put your head up. You positioned your body to face him, trying to speak with confidence. “I got distracted in class and was thinking about…you know…and then I went home. I was so stressed that I just decided to do it, but I couldn’t do it unless…”
“Unless what, Doll?”
That fucking name.
You don’t know if it was from his deep voice. Or from his demanding tone. Or his hand squeezing at the pulse point of your neck, but you whimpered. The smallest and most delicate sound that couldn’t have even been recognized by a high-definition microphone. But Harry heard it, and it made him go absolutely berserk.
“Unless I thought of you.”
“Fuck, Y/N. I’ve corrupted you, huh?” he squeezes your neck again reassuringly as you mewl in his grasp, a little less ashamed than before. “Well, you came all this way…”
“Please, Harry,” You delicately begged, trying not to sound as desperate as you were. Because, fuck, were you desperate. With every simple, warm caress of his hand on your neck you thought you were going to suffocate from holding your breath.
“Take off your shorts.” It was an easy command to follow. Harry’s assertive tone sent chills down your spine and a fiery tingle in the pit of your stomach. The same type of tingle you felt whenever you thought about the bathroom incident. But you were never able to dull the flame alone.
Maybe you weren’t supposed to.
Without another word, Harry’s hand snakes down to your waist joined by his other one as he lifts you up and onto his lap. Your lungs deflate, releasing a shaky breath full of your anticipation. Your legs were on either side of his, spreading you open just enough to feel yourself leak into your panties. Resting your hands on his shoulders, you wait for him to tell you what to do.
“Show me what y’got,” his reassuring hand slips from your waist and rests on the arm of the couch. Your expression falls in disappointment.
“What? I thought you were helping me!”
“This is helping you. I have to see what y’did wrong so I can help you fix it. There’s a method to my madness, love.”
“Yeah, yeah,” You rolled your eyes. He’s said that line growing up too many times to count. You used to tell him to shut up every time, but now you’re just immune to his cheekiness. The context was very different now, and that line may never be the same.
“Hey, don’t roll your eyes at me. Do y’want my help or not?”
“Okay, okay!” You assured, your cunt still throbbing against the cotton of your underwear. You swallowed once the playfulness died down, silence surrounding you both. The only thing left was for you to start, which you found extremely embarrassing. “So I just…”
“Do exactly what you did. Walk me through it.”
You took a deep breath before discarding your shirt. You tried not to think about how Harry was looking directly at your body now without the reflection of a mirror. He didn’t hide the way his gaze lingered on specific parts, almost as if he was memorizing each little detail. If you weren’t so hyper focused on remembering what you did and what he told you, you would find it somewhat endearing (and embarrassing).
With trembling hands, you threw off your shirt to tweak at your peaked nipples, just like you had done yesterday. They felt raw and sore between your fingertips. With each twist came a small aftershock of pain, but you only continued to roll the bud. You kind of liked how it hurt a little…
While one hand focused on your breasts, the other began to slide down between your legs. After passing your torso, your fingers slipped underneath the band of your underwear. The pads make contact with your aching clit, just like before, but it was different. When you did it alone, it felt stressful and rushed. But right now, it feels more electrifying and dizzying than before.
Maybe it was because Harry was here and that he was watching you like a hawk. His mere presence was alluring and intensified every touch. His eyes were trained on your every movement, analyzing and critiquing you with those thorn-like pupils. You wanted to know what he was thinking, but you were starting to get too caught up in your own pleasure to care.
“Oh, f-fuck,” You sighed and rocked your hips subconsciously over Harry’s thighs. He sharply inhales, but you don’t register the sound because you’re too busy making your own. You didn’t notice Harry’s growing bulge, merely a few inches away from your dripping cunt.
Your eyelids start to tighten, screwing shut as your thighs quiver. That familiar rush was approaching you fast, and just when you thought it couldn’t come any faster, Harry finally does something. He speaks.
“Almost there already? You are desperate, aren’t you, Doll?” Harry’s tone could pass as pitiful or even taunting as his hand creeps towards your pivoting waist. But the raspy deepness of it is what sends you over the edge. Your fingers squeeze your nipple while your fingers circle your pulsating clit. All of your movements stop as your body overloads, coming down from the much-needed orgasm. Your hand slaps onto his broad shoulder for support as you quietly chant his name with a squirm of your hips. “All the way. There y’go, angel.”
With some labored breathing, you finally peel your eyes open to a smirking Harry. Your skin flushed in sudden embarrassment, realizing your position. You immediately think to move off of him, especially after just coming in your panties, but his hand on your hip keeps a firm grip.
“We’re not done yet. You haven’t even heard my thoughts.”
“…What are your thoughts?” You were a little intimated, which is something you never thought you’d be by your best friend.
You had some thoughts and feelings of your own. Yes, this orgasm was better than the one you did alone. But it was nowhere near as satisfying as the one Harry did for you. Why was that? It internally frustrated you that Harry was so good at what he did, but a small—smidge little speck—of you was proud that your best friend was good in bed. Well, you don’t know about all aspects, but you could assume.
You should not be thinking about that!
And maybe another tiny part of you was glad to be one of the people experiencing his euphoria.
“I thought it was pretty good. Pretty good for your what? Third time? Well, second by yourself. Could use some work,” Harry tried to be as nonchalant as possible. His cock was raging in his shorts, just begging to be let out for some relief. He’s not going to lie and say he hasn’t thought about his best friend in a sexual way since their sexual intercounter because he totally has.
What he hasn’t done is jerk off to you. He refuses to stoop that low because in a way, that made him feel dirty, like he was using you somehow. When he came home from work the day after everything, he had to call up one of the numbers in his phone to help settle his little problem. Okay, yes, that might seem hypocritical, but he doesn’t care about jerking off to random people or using his friendly benefits to get off quickly. That’s exactly what they were for. You, on the other hand, were not for that purpose. You are his best friend who just needs a little… guidance in the sexual field. And luckily, Harry has a lot of experience that he is (for some reason) very willing to share.
You were just about to roll your eyes when Harry’s grip tightened even more as a warning. He just knew you too well.
“I want to try something. Willin’ to try something new?” You felt the pacing of your already quick heart accelerate. Your eyes were wide and full of wonder, innocence draped over you like a bedsheet.
“Yeah. That’s the point of this, right?” Your voice sounded a little hesitant, similar to the way Harry blinked. You swallowed your anxiousness down as Harry nodded.
His hands guide your hips over onto his lap. You instantly get flashbacks from last week, his warm hands stilling your hips and rubbing gentle circles on your burning skin. But this time, he adjusts you so you’re sitting on one of his thighs. Your panties were directly on his athletic shorts and it was comfortable, but you had an urge to be closer. You needed skin to skin contact.
Was that too much? Too far?
“Actually,” As if he could read your mind, “I’m going to pull these up, okay?”
With a nod, he tugs his shorts up, revealing his large tiger tattoo. You nearly forgot he had it. As your eyes fixate on the impressive ink, you find yourself becoming a little dizzy with lust. Not only was the tattoo cool but the placement almost had you fainting. You watched his thigh muscles contract when he shifted his hips, the tiger pulsing and looking like a great seat.
Harry was going to—no did—ruin you…
Next, he pulled you forward, nearly causing you to collapse on him. Now, your covered center is directly on his bare thigh, lightly pressing against his thickness.
“Y’real warm, Doll,” Harry observes, hands subconsciously slotting their way onto that soft spot of your hips. You felt as though they belonged there now. Your skin blushed, heat bubbling inside of you at his comment. You couldn’t help but feel shy with his eyes gazing at your every move. Legs wanting to close, you force yourself to keep them open around his waist. Just like he taught you.
“What do I do now?” You didn't really know what to do with your hands and it was evident. Harry saw this, however, and threw your lonesome hands over his shoulders. His action caused you to lean closer towards him, faces merely a few inches apart. You swallowed, but your throat was dry, and your heart was running a mile in record time. You could feel every breath fall onto your face because you were in such close proximity. You wanted to kiss him badly. It was strange because you’ve never felt such a pull towards him.
“I want you to use me.”
“What?” You blinked.
“Use me. Move your hips on m’thigh until it feels really good.”
“I…I don’t know how,” You admitted, fingers trembling within each other behind his neck. A soft, reassuring smile rests upon his lips, and before he even said anything, you already felt a little better.
“Just move first and I’ll help you as you go. Do you remember what to say if you want to stop?” he asked with gentleness as his hand curled on your hip, kneading it with care. You nodded, but that wasn’t enough. He pinned you with a knowing look.
“Stop is red, yellow is slow down, and green is good.”
“You remembered. Good girl,” The two simple words made you flutter inside and out. But they also motivated you to strive and really be a good girl for him.
You released your interlocked fingers from behind his neck and bared his shoulders. You took a deep, quivering breath before beginning to move over his thigh. It was an awkward motion; circling your panties along his naked thigh while he just took it. At first, it didn’t feel all too pleasurable. The idea of it all seemed great, but you just couldn’t get into it. A small part of you was saddened because Harry had seemed excited.
Had you let him down?
But just before you stopped to complain and whine about it, Harry’s grip on your hip tightened and pulled you forward. Your heart jumped at the action, feeling immense intensity in the proximity. With the slight lean forward, your clit was pressing directly on his thigh creating a perfect friction from your cotton panties.
“O-Oh,” You breathily moaned, finally feeling that strike of pleasure you’ve been waiting for. As your eyes begin to close, Harry never seems to remove his from you, analyzing every speck of your body like you’ll perish any second. His hand remains rigid and still on your hip, forcing you forward so your clit is constantly stimulated.
“Yeah? That feel better?” he asks in that familiar, deep husk that rumbles through your body.
“Yes, H,” Your head leaned on his shoulder, thighs beginning to burn with fatigue. It’s barely been a few minutes yet you were already feeling your leg muscles giving out.
“C’mon, Doll. Don’t give up now.”
“I’m trying,” You whined, picking your head up and pouting at him with a small pant. He stares at your puckered lip and dares to kiss it. Would it be crossing a boundary? All he wants to do is suck on all your words until you have none left and leave a few marks in the process. Is that so hard to want?
“Try harder.”
Harry thrusts his thigh up into you, causing you to gasp in bliss. It was an overwhelming and shocking feeling; a single, hefty dose of pressure right into your clit and cunt. Harry could feel your prominent heat burning through your underwear and searing through his skin. He wanted to rid you of your clothes and ravage you, but you weren’t there yet. He doesn’t know if you’ll ever get there with him, but recently, he’s been dying to get there. The thought has never even wandered his mind before, but now that it is, he can’t seem to get it out. It’s as if you’re trapped in his mind and sex is the only key.
That sounds a lot worse than he thought.
“Oh my God,” Your whimpers flow straight into his ears, playing mind games with him. His cock has been puffing up in his shorts, but he’s not even trying to hide it anymore. There’s no way you’re oblivious to the things you do to him—at least physically.
Harry continues to ram his thigh up, encouraging you to move around. When he feels your body seriously about to give up, he holds you still and forces you to stop.
“Color?”
“Green, but I’m tired.”
“Do y’want to stop?”
“No, Harry, please, just—I really need you to do something. Anything. I’m close,” Your desperate pleads are impossible to reject. With your doe eyes and pouty lip, he doesn’t even hesitate to make all your pain go away.
“Need it that bad?”
“Yes.”
“Alright, Doll. Just stay still,” You obey him with a grateful nod as his thigh begins to rock up into you again. It was so much more euphoric this way—having him move while you just feel. Maybe it was a little selfish, but wasn’t that one of the perks of him teaching you? You just got to feel and learn your body.
You hadn’t thought about that part a lot. This entire ordeal was you learning more about yourself. For years you have deprived yourself and avoided all sexual activity for no other reason than fear. Fear of judgment, fear of awkwardness, fear of trust, fear of vulnerability—sex was a huge thing for you. Now, you’re doing things you never could have imagined yourself doing, and you’re doing them with the last person you’d expect; your best friend. But in the strangest and most bizarre way, you couldn’t see your firsts being held by anyone other than Harry. Would you tell him that? Probably not. That might be taken a different way than you mean, and then drama would ensue and that’s not at all what you want.
But what did you mean by it?
“Are y’close? I can feel you clenching on me,” his voice rasps near your ear, sending a shudder throughout your body. You hum a high-pitched sound, seemingly pleasing him. “‘About to come in y’panties? Never thought you’d do that, huh?”
“Mhm,” You hummed again, this time biting your lip as your stomach churned in pleasure. “Touch me, God, please.”
“Are you saying I’m God? ‘Cause that is a great compliment—”
“You’re such an—” he places his lips on your neck, suckling on the spongy part under your ear. You shiver, shutting up immediately. Every word and thought has left you completely, fizzling into the nonexistent. You don’t know if he put his lips on your neck like this last time, but it made you putty on top of him. “Why does that f-feel so good? Please, Harry, I’m right there.”
“‘Cause I’m doing it. Little baby just needed help s’all. That’s right, huh? Say it. Say you needed my help, baby.” Why his words make you feel the way you feel will forever be an unsolved phenomenon to you. There’s a juxtaposition between pain and pleasure and degradation and praise. When he puts you down, he makes sure to pick you right up again, and it might seem toxic, but it was just Harry, and you knew deep down it was all an act. And you liked that.
“I-I needed you, Harry,” A whine fell from your lips, tearing through your throat.
You liked that none of it was deeply serious and you could be what you wanted without the fear of judgment, fear of awkwardness, fear of trust, fear of vulnerability—everything you needed for comfort was there. It was here with Harry. It might all be some type of act, but it felt real. Realer than any other relationship you’ve had.
“C’mon me, Doll.”
You felt his warm hand travel from one hip to your torso. Just the mere feeling of his presence getting lower towards your center sent you over the edge. It was quite embarrassing how his simple touch was all you needed to be folded and whipped, but you couldn’t help it. You were so sensitive as a beginner and, on top of it all, so needy and greedy for it. Harry adored that though.
Your orgasm soaked through your cotton panties, while some of the residue landed on Harry’s thigh. An ever-growing smirk was plastered on his face as your heated face finally reentered reality. You quietly gasped when your awareness finally slipped through the orgasmic fog, realizing the mess you made.
“Look at tha’, Doll. Was that better for you? More satisfying?”
“Yes. Thank you, Harry,” You answered wearily, suddenly being slapped with post-orgasm fatigue. The lingering burn in your muscles told you that you were going to be sore tomorrow, but you were too blissed-out to care.
“Don’t be so formal. S’weird,” You rolled your eyes at him. Again, he’s great at ruining a sweet moment. Sexual Harry versus friend Harry were two different people, but you appreciated both. It was just the sharp switches he makes between transitions that makes your head spin with confusion. Harry, your friend, was loud and cocky with a mixture of kindness. Harry, your sexual teacher, was demanding and precise with a mixture of softness. Both comforted you in a way that you hoped you would find in a partner one day; he was the perfect example.
Recognizing him this way really put things in perspective for you–Harry really was teaching what you wanted. And like he said before, maybe you didn’t need to worry about a husband right now. You should be focusing on what you want and that might take some experimenting. Training with Harry was preparing you for that experiment phase. That’s exactly it.
When you take a breath, you’re reminded of how compressed you are to him. You’re comfortable and cozy when you’re this close, and it just felt right. You don’t remember if you’ve always felt like this, but it would make sense if you have. He’s your best friend, of course.
But of course, the moment ends way too soon, and Harry is lifting you off of his lap. He places you beside him on the couch before standing up.
“I’ll go start you a bath and get you some clothes,” Harry leaves for the bathroom, the opposite of last time. Based on the last two times, to you it seems like he leaves too quickly. You never get to fully absorb the aftermath and internalize its meaning. But maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe Harry knows that if he allowed you the time, you would overthink until you self-destructed and eventually never speak to him again.
You don’t think you could ever do that.
So, like anything you’ve ever done, you’re left alone to analyze the situation. You were aided when you were desperate and Harry was able to mend that ache. But what did that do for him? What was Harry getting out of this arrangement? Was it even an arrangement or just best friends who occasionally do sexual things? Was he doing all of this for you just because he wanted to show you the ropes?
You’re still well-aware of your lack of reciprocation. Out of the two times he’s helped you out, you haven’t been returning the favor. There is this unspoken understanding that everything is about you and that Harry wouldn’t involve himself because what would that teach you? Without him saying anything, you know that Harry doesn’t want you to think that he’s using you for his own pleasure. But at this point in your friendship, you know he wouldn’t do such a thing. Besides, if he needed to have sex that critically, he could just call someone, right? It’s easy to “get some” when you’ve already had it.
Your point being, why haven’t you offered to return the favor? If you did, maybe Harry could give you some pointers and tell you what to do, just like all of the other times. Not only would you know what feels right and pleasurable, but you’d know how to make your partner feel just as positive. Plus, he would be getting pleasure out of it, too. That sounds like a win-win in your book, and probably in Harry’s. But would that be crossing the unspoken boundaries of your friendship? You’ve already traversed through enough together, but how far was too far? Was he basing the limits off of you?
If so, he won’t mind one more session, right?
—
thank you all so much for being patient with me 🩷 i hope this suffices you! part 3
