“Well thanks for coming Harry! Good luck on your album!” That was the last thing Nick Grimshaw said, and frankly, you were relieved because it was 8 a.m, Friday morning, and you did not want to be up this early on you and Harry’s chill day.
You had been sitting in that chair for an hour or two, but you were unexplainibly tired and you back was starting to ache. When Harry rose from his chair behind the glass panel, you had to refrain from springing up. Sitting on the sidelines and not being able to giggle through the jokes by his side had you left in a state of boredom. Now that it was finally over, you couldn’t wait to get back in your pajamas and snuggle back into bed.
But, of course, there was always a draw back. When Harry approached you, the look of apprehension was clear. Coming closer to him, you furrowed your brows and asked him what was wrong.
“M’sorry. Gotta ‘nother meeting for my album love.” He spoke softly as his thumb rubbed nothings onto your hand.
A small sigh of drowsy frustration was bound to escape, but he was already expecting it and just kissed you temples, leading you out to the awaiting taxi hand in hand the whole time.
Your mind was wandering. Everywhere. What else was it supposed to do when he just told you that the next two hours were going to be spent sitting in another office chair discussing contracts and release dates?
You were trying though, and it was hard, because all of a sudden, his ass looked so good. You were halfway to the taxi when you pulled back from his hold a bit, wanting to get a better view. Now that you spotted them closely, the crossed lines and alluring red that swirled along his delicious thighs, you realized that these were new.
He caught on to your slower trail of walking, confused and smiling with an eyebrow raised.
“Whatcha doin’ pet?’
You don’t even try to hide the newfound desperate and whiny lust that slurred your blunt words.
“You look hot in plaid.”
He stopped walking, blinking a couple of times before asking you to repeat yourself. He knew you to be good in bed, hell, he’d seen how riled up you got him, but this. This was new and Harry wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing. He’d play along, he supposed. There’s no harm in a little fun right?
The back of the taxi was small, so his hip bone only inches from your own was tempting and ignited a flame that almost ate you whole. Fire. A feeling that spread between your legs when you gazed at his ring-clad hand.
When he looked over, he couldn’t help but help chuckle with pride. A hot mess you were, with your fingers fidgeting harshly with the hem of your dress, head lolled back and your bottom lip being chewed on furiously. It was clear that he had you going.
“Partition please.” Harry’s request has you coming out of your tense state, a silent curiosity floating through the air as you watch the black screen roll up.
“Harr-” You are cut off when he pulls you onto his lap, his large hands resting too close to your heat for it to be unintentional.
“Jus’ listen pet.” You shivering when you feel his cold rings on your bare thigh. With one small touch, you are already melting.
A whisper of a whimper comes from you lips when his forefinger grazes on the edge of your panties, his lips hovering by your own, never staying in one place. They’re by your ear, and although your want for his round bum is putting a damper on your senses, his command is all but innocent.
“Gotta keep it quiet pet. Don’ want him to find yeh like this, all spread fo’ me n’ wet as yeh think bout’ my arse.”
If he kept taunting you like this, you’d be done for before the 20 minute drive to the meeting was even over.
It was true though. As you sit on his thighs now, with his hands teasing between your legs, the sheer picture of his ass wrapped in those plaid trousers has you practically begging to be fucked. They were hugging his legs in all the right places and he wanted nothing more than for you to have your way as you ride him into the night.
“Harr- What are you doing?” You breath out. You are clutching the back of his shirt and he was leaving wet marks. Harry didn’t answer, leaving your question vulnerable and hanging in the suddenly thick atmosphere.
The traffic began to clear up and the people and buildings become a blur. You and Harry don’t mind though, because his head is being buried into your neck and your grind against him is becoming more ad more sloppy by the minute. Your neck is straining with your arousal, and your thighs start to quiver as your wet panties drag along his thigh.
His hands are doing nothing but slowly rubbing your clit through the barrier. Oh the things Harry would do if he could just take you right here in the back of this run down taxi. The coldness of his jeweled and metal rings makes you jump and whimper into his scalp, hands on his face in search of stability. His reaction was incredible though.
The way his lustful eyes brightened at the affect he has on you. It would be a lie to say that he wasn’t on the bridge of insanity, watching you soak yourself as you moan into your hip’s movements. You were so wet, he could basically see the smear of dampness along his leg.
Hungry off of your own thirst, his hands grasp your swiveling thighs, rubbing and gripping and trailing deep impression onto the heated skin. “Fuck! Baby..“He was too distracted to utter the warning that the destination was a block away and you were about to come on the spot, all over the leather seats. But still, he forced the words reluctantly from his lips, prying his mouth from behind your ear. He could spot the tender and slightly red blotch from the contact. I’ll finish that later, he thought while placing you next to him and back to your original seat.
“Wha?” You exasperatedly sighed in frustration, mad that he had pulled away and leaving you pitifully drenched.
Quickly, with his hands clasped around your neck for one final kiss. He whispered softly to you. “S’alright muppet. Be a good girl fo’ me and keep your knickers wet. Don’ get too worried. M’gonna make you feel good. Yeh know I always keep my word.”
You prayed to god he did.
There was only a few minutes till you arrived at the studio for another interview and you had little time to calm your breathing and wipe your liquids from his pants. It was and hurried, but he only smirked at your wet spot and took a second to fix each others hair. It wasn’t the best, but it will do.
“I was so happy to be here! Thanks fo’ having me.”
Those were the last words that came out of Harry Styles mouth before he dragged you just out of view and into a forgotten one-person bathroom at the back of the studio.
You didn’t even bother to say bye to Jim. Or Johnny. Whatever his name was, you couldn’t care to remember, because Harry had sat down for an hour and a half torturing you with those scrumptious thighs of his.
Wrapped in plaid and hugged along every curve of his legs, your eyes had grown wide when he slid on the counter and hoisted you with him. Immediately, like an old habit, your sex blooms under his watch. He motions for you to sit on his right thigh and you don’t hesitate to obey. With one motion, your hands find his and press them harder in to the marble counter top, craning your neck upwards in a silent request for a kiss. It was a sweet little thing that made you both smile. Although there was tension and not a lot of room in a dingy bathroom for slow and sensual, he still made sure your were comfortable and loved.
“Go ‘head puppet. Make yeh feel good.” He let go of you hands, and settled for a strong hold on your lower back, adoring the way your hips curve and move along his skin. Your hands did wonders when you tugged at his plaid trousers, yanking away the tight and lined fabric. A heavy moan burst through the both of you when you felt your clit rub against his bare skin.
The flaming pit in your stomach ached for the friction, and Harry watched with a awestruck face of his own when you hips flicked a little quicker. Piece by piece, Harry was watching you become unraveled under him and the thought of making you come with his thigh along was enough to have his dick twitch.
“Ahh.. Harry” You spoke mumbles of good feelings and praises in his ear as he roamed you body with his fingertips.
Aroung your ears is were he finally attached his mouth once again. Knowing the sensitivity it would cause you, his words came quick and rushed.
“Yeh can scream if yeh wan’“ His lips matched with flesh of your neck again, but he kept on speaking. “We’re in the back love. Thick walls here an’ everybody is leavin’ fo’ break.”
And you did scream. Maybe a little too loud, but you couldn’t help it when his neck sucking had you barely able to hold yourself upright. With your brows creased, you lean towards him. The leverage and heat of hands as they tugged at your scalp lightly had you closer than ever. He was begging for you to splash on his thigh and moan his name.
There was a destination he was determined to reach, and this time, it wasn’t a studio down the street.
His cock was pulsating in his jeans but he had no room for it now that your were close. Your hands were traveling, snatching anything of his to make it come quicker and harder. They dug semi-circles into his forearm and bruises along his rib cage and spurts of hair mishandled but the look of you withering out shined it all. Everything in his mind screamed you, and eventually, you came screaming him.
“There yeh go fo’ me peaches. Nice an’ easy. Love yeh. Did so well fo’ me.” He chanted this tune of his while you rode him out, diving for the last bits of orgasm left in you. There wasn’t much though. you had spilled an ocean over his plain pants and he didn’t care one bit.
He was slow letting you down from him, holding you up and not bothering to try and hide his pride when you could barely murmur words. Your legs were shaking and your thighs still burned from the delectable pressure. A cream had smeared itself between your thighs, and Harry toyed with your wetness.
“Still wet fo’ me? Gonna have to clean yeh up princess.”
His digits roamed you sensitive center, and he chuckled when a jolt of pleasure claw led at you spine. You weren’t ashamed though. How couldn’t you feel so sensitive when Harry was blowing heat against your neck and grazing the liquid from you core? Teasingly, he raised two soaked fingers of his from your panties and lifted them to his plump pink lips. With your eyes fluttering from the sight, he loaned into his own licks against his skin, cleaning up the remains of your slickness.
“Ugh…Harry! I need-” You were still breathless when you continued you piece-meal sentence. “Need your kisses. Got me shaken down there.”
“S'alright love. Need yeh lips too.”
It was a halfhearted attempt to calm you down, but his kisses remained tight and slow with passion for a minute or two. Sweet, burning, and on the brink of hungry, just the way that had you molded into his arms as he pulled you closer.
The sweet mellow pace of his breath combined with yours slowed as he lead you It of the dingy area. Not long would he keep his love here, were he couldn’t hold her and praise her endearing moans.
He needed to show his girl some proper loving.
The car was waiting patiently when you two finally exited. You had to stifle a cackle by nuzzling into his neck, because his face was almost comical when he discovered it was the same taxi driver form before. This time, the partition was rolled up tight and the greetings were long gone.
“Gon’ be a good girl again? Let me really fuck yeh when we get home princess?” His words were silent to the ears of the driver, but hot and heavy as they floated through the ears of yours.
And all you can do is whimper and wait, because he always keeps his word.
Your sim is secretly wanting more. No longer are they content with their … plain [shudder] pants.
They want to stand out in a crowd. They want to be stylish. Who can blame them? They may act all tough, but they’ve taken a Cosmo quiz or two …
Just for you (when I say you, I mean me) I have pulled together a modest selection of pattern for your sims that want to shout it from the rooftops … “I. Am. A. Fashion plate.” … if they shouted …. or stood on rooftops.
Two files - BG for the UNbelted variety and GtW for the Belted …
Updated 09/2017 - these now have their own catalogue entry for ease in locating. Please remove the old files and redownload.
Photo above shows what the original pants* look like (*Slacks? Do you prefer that word Slacks? “Say, you look super sexy in those slacks from Sears”) so you can find them in the catalogue. Even I struggle to find them - sorry. I do like swatches more than new entries in the catalogue.
She couldn’t call it a breakup. They weren’t together, they were just friends– and so it wasn’t a breakup.
YN had gone to bed that night, two and a half weeks ago, with tears streaming down her cheeks, hoping and praying that the pair of them would forget about it in the morning and everything would return as normal. That she’d be awoken by him stumbling into the dorm with two coffees from the cafe down the road, grumbling about the dreary weather, and then they’d both go down to class and grumble together about their degrees. That it was just a fight that two best friends have when both of their brains have just gotten too clouded and ultimately clashed, and they’d laugh about it at lunch tomorrow. But she remembered watching him cry when she pushed him away, remembered cutting him off when he was about to say something, remembered hearing him bawl outside in the hallway.
She knew that it wasn’t just an argument, more than she cared to admit, and all she could smell was his cologne on her pillow.