tee shirt make overs

Boring Board Game: Sam x Reader Smut

Imagine: Fooling around with Sam after Dean falls asleep.

Warnings: Smut

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Fandom: Supernatural

Notes: I wrote this at 3 am.


“Can you guys shut the hell up? I’m trying to sleep.” Dean groaned from the couch. He had chosen to sleep in the living room because he had spilt water all over his bed.

You rolled your eyes and Sam smirked, looking back down the the game you were seated around. You were bored and found some old timey board game, Sam suggested you try it out. You replied with a ‘why not’. It was pretty dumb, a basic roll the dice move your piece kind of thing.

“How about we make it a bit more interesting.” You huffed in boredom as you moved your piece up three squares.

Sam looked up to you, adjusting his legs. The floor was a bit uncomfortable but it was in the middle of the living room, so you had plenty of space. You would have used a table but the board was way too big to fit on any table in the bunker. “How so?” He asked with an amused smile on his face.

You smiled innocently, shrugging it. Looking back to Dean to make sure he was asleep, you leaned closer to Sam. Locking eyes with him your smile turned not so innocent. “If one of us rolls a five, we remove one article of clothing. The other player gets to choose.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Seriously? Are you twelve?” He asked but when he saw you were deadly serious he swallowed hard and looked over to Dean, who was snoring. He sighed before his hazel eyes flicked back over to you. “Alright, sure. You first.”

You smiled and changed sitting positions, now sitting on your feet. You shook the dice in your hands and let it fall on the board with a clatter. You rolled a three and a six. You smirked in triumph and moved your piece up nine squares.

Time was slow as Sam picked up the two small cubes, shook them in his hands and let them fall onto the board. A four and a two. You mentally cursed and Sam saw your look of disappointment, smirking and shaking his head as he moved his piece.

The process repeated until you finally rolled a five. You hadn’t counted on you being the first to roll a five. And two, at that. Your cheeks heated up and you looked up at Sam. He was smirking, a look of smug success on his face.

“Screw you.” You laughed quietly and looked back to Dean, who had his face planted in his pillow. He was fast asleep. And thankfully he was a deep sleeper when he knew Sam was awake.

“Socks.” Sam said and you looked back to him, raising a brow. He just shrugged. “Don’t wanna start off too quickly, or we’d be naked in three turns.” He said and your cheeks heated up as he spoke. He sure was serious about the situation.

You took your feet out from under your thighs and removed your pink socks, tucking them into each other and tossing it towards the dining room. You’d get them later. You smirked once you were done, but the look on Sam’s face got you worried.

“And, your shirt.” He said and your breath caught in your throat. Blood started to flow between your legs and you looked at Dean again, which was starting to get annoying. Sam noticed your hesitation. “Want to go to my room?” He offered and you tried not to whimper in excitement.

You just nodded and grabbed the two dice, your two player pieces, and let Sam grab the board. The walk to his room was silent and full of tension, as you walked up the stairs you could feel him staring at you and it made your movements hurt in anticipation.

When you finally got into his room he shut the door behind you, locking it. The pieces in your hands felt extremely heavy as Sam laid out the large board on his floor, sitting down cross legged. He looked up to you and you swallowed, sitting down in the same position as you. When he didn’t speak you remembered you were supposed to take off your shirt.

You looked down to your button up silk nightshirt nervously, your trembling hands reaching up to the bottom button. It slipped out of the hole with ease and you continued on upwards, the last button leaving you almost bare. You had forgotten you had a tank top on under it and you almost laughed at the irony, you were so scared for nothing. You threw the shirt behind you, the cool air raising goosebumps on your newly exposed arms and shoulders.

Sam smirked, rolling his eyes. “Fair enough.” He sighed and put the pieces back where they were, picking up the two dice cubes. He shook them in his palms and let them loose with a deafening clack on the wooden board. You leaned forward with your heart pounding. A five and a two. You looked up to him with a wicked, cocky grin.

“Shirt.” You said and leaned back with your arms crossed, confidence back. But it quickly faded as Sam pulled the plain tee-shirt over his head, his practically impossibly perfect muscles making your mouth water. He was golden tan, his skin littered with a few scars here and there but otherwise perfect. Of course, he noticed you staring and he smiled, looking down. His smile wasn’t cocky anymore, he looked bashful. Sam Winchester? Bashful? Hah! That’s funny.

But when you saw the blush on his cheeks you knew that it was exactly his current emotion. Your heart lurched and you smiled, he was so cute it broke your heart.

“Your turn.” He said as he moved his pieces and you snapped out of your daze, picking up the two dice. You shook and rolled, getting a two and a three. You sighed in disappointment and moved your pieces, handing the dice to Sam. He got a four and a six, which seemed to disappoint him as well, and he handed them back to you.

You almost prayed as you let the dice roll out of your hands. They flipped and spun, finally deciding to land on a five and a three. You moved your pieces and looked up, biting your lip. “Pants.” Your voice was barely a whisper and he swallowed hard, glancing down at his sweatpants.

“What have you gotten me into?” He muttered to himself and you bit your bottom lip, watching him as he stood up and untied the strings on his gray pants. He let them fall and he kicked them away, staring at you and waiting for a reaction.

Your throat and mouth dried, everything seeming to freeze. He was so beautiful it was unbelievable. His legs were toned as well, his boxers hiding too much. When he sat back down you suddenly felt you were wearing too much and you hoped he’d roll two fives.

Your wish came true as he let the dice fall, the tension so thick you could taste it. His eyes flickered up to yours, which were glued to the five black dots on both white dice. You slowly looked up, licking your lips and waiting for him to speak.

“Shorts.” He said and you struggled to stand, the undeniable lust making you shake. Your fingers went to the hem of your pajama shorts, slipping them into the waistband. You took your time sliding them down your thighs, letting them pool around your ankles. You kicked them away, right next to Sam’s sweatpants, and you sat back down cross-legged.

Sam’s eyes shamefully landed between your legs, which were giving him a perfect view. He shifted, swallowing hard as he looked back up to you. “Tank-top.” His voice was deep now, deep and serious. You shuddered at his voice, chills running up your spine as you grabbed the bottom of your tank-top and pulled it over your head. You heard him sigh as you threw it behind you, his eyes roaming over your bare chest. He licked his lips and looked up to you, his eyes flittering around nervously. If you hadn’t known Sam for so long you’d think he was a virgin.

You didn’t know what to say so you reached out to grab the dice but Sam’s hand grabbed your wrist, stopping you and startling you at the same time. You looked up with furrowed brows, a question forming on your lips but Sam stopped you.

“I think, we both know it isn’t about this stupid game anymore.” Sam said breathlessly, looking into your eyes. Your lips parted and your breath caught in your throat, his gaze was so intense it shook you. You could feel wetness forming between your legs and you closed your eyes, letting out a sigh. This was so much you could orgasm right then and there.

You nodded at his words and Sam leaned forward, smashing his lips against yours. His lips were so soft and plump, they matched your perfectly and you sighed into his mouth. He used one hand to run through your hair and the other to steady you at the small of your back so you didn’t fall backwards. He gasped in pain as the player piece dug angrily into his thigh and you looked down, smiling nervously. “Bed?” You asked and he nodded, grimacing.

You stood up and all but flung yourself onto his soft, comfortable bed, your legs spread wide and eager for him. His mouth gaped open and you felt self conscious for a moment, but it all ceased when you noticed his erection through his boxers. He walked forward, sinking his knees into the bed and settling between your thighs. He leaned down to kiss you, using his hands to pull your thighs around his waist. Through both of your underwear you could feel each other so well, you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold off your orgasm long once he was inside you.

Once his lips touched yours again he slowly rubbed his hips between your legs, stimulating you immensely. You gasped into his kiss, arching your back and fumbling to grab at his hair. Once you got hold of it you tugged and he groaned, removing his lips from yours to find a new target. He sunk his teeth into your neck, gently biting down as he thrusted against you. You cried out, rubbing yourself on his erection, trying hard to get any friction you could.

“Sam, enough of this.” Your voice was a whisper as he kissed and sucked on your shoulders. “Make love to me.” You said and he sat up, looking down to you.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said as he smiled, taking his boxers off. He took the liberty of taking your own underwear off, tossing it over his shoulder. He wasted no time in slipping two fingers inside you, causing you to gasp sharply. He closed his eyes and groaned feeling how tight you were around your fingers. “(Y/N), you feel so good.”

“I’ll feel even better wrapped around your cock, fuck me Sam.” You groaned and he happily obliged, settling again between your thighs and rubbing his tip against you. You gasped and moaned, hungrily biting your lip and reaching up to sink your nails into his shoulders. He pushed his head inside you, stretching you almost painfully. He waited a moment before continuing to push, finally buried to the hilt. You didn’t dare move, you knew if you did you’d cum. And you wanted to hold off on it as long as possible.

He waited painfully long before he started moving, yanking your thighs up to him. You cried out in surprise at the new angle, his head rubbed against that perfect spot and you felt yourself starting to approach your orgasm. Sam felt you tighten around his cock and he started slowly, deeply thrusting, making sure to roll his hips in a way to hit your magic spot every thrust. You soon came, toppling over that high edge. Your body stiffened and you shook, gasping and letting out a short groan before you went slack onto the mattress.

“Already?” Sam teased and you were tempted to slap him. But when you opened his eyes and saw his sunflower eyes and his dimpled smile, you couldn’t help but smile back.

“You don’t know how beautiful you are, Sam.” You said quietly and he started to move again.

“Keep talking.” He whispered with closed eyes and you grinned suddenly. Sam had a praise kink. You couldn’t blame him, he wasn’t appreciated enough.

“You’re so gorgeous, not only on the outside, but in as well.” You panted as he thrusted inside you, slowly speeding up. Your body rocked back and forth on the mattress and you moaned. “God Sam, you’re perfect, so good, you’re so good and pure. My pure Sam.” Your voice got choppy as he sped up, thrusting harder and faster. Your cries turned to loud grunts that you couldn’t hold back, deep guttural growls emerging from Sam’s throat.

He thrusted inside you for god knows how long, it felt like hours of pure heaven. In that time you praised him, kissed him egged him on until he finally came with a loud groan inside you. His muscles seemed to bulge out from his skin and you watched him cum, the sight of it forcing you to orgasm as well. You both panted, coming down from your high, sweaty and exhausted.

When you were back to your senses you sat up, running a hand through your sweaty hair. You looked at Sam, gleaming with sweat, naked on his bed for you. You smiled at his beauty, which caught his eye and he smiled back.

“I liked that game.” He said quietly, tired from his orgasm.

“I liked it too.” You agreed and stretched, standing up to pick up your underwear. Sam sat up with furrowed brows, watching you step into them.

“Are you going to your room?” He asked cautiously and you picked up a hint of disappointment in his questioning voice.

“Well, I didn’t know if you wanted me to stay or not. I don’t want to be that annoying one time thing who thinks they can stay.” You said, looking anywhere but at him.

“It wasn’t a one time thing.” Sam said quietly. “I mean, I hope it wasn’t. I really like you. And the things you said about me… Well, I’m not good with words. I get shy. Can you just… turn off the light and sleep with me?” He asked in a hopeful voice and you almost cried at how adorable he sounded. He looked at you with puppy eyes and you smiled, nodding.

“I’ll sleep with you tonight. Scooch over.” You stepped back out of your shorts and turned off the lights before climbing into bed with him, wrapping the sheets over your naked bodies. Sam wrapped an arm around you and you rested your head on his chest, falling asleep to the steady beat of his heart.

Clothing for ftm!

I am mtf who is now out of closet so my closet is out for giveaway.

I am typically size medium to small (36; or women’s 8). I’m 5’11. I am giving out suits, pants, jackets, watches, weather, shirt, bag and a lot of really neat ties. My style pre transition was more preppy (business casual?) so stuff will be great if you want to present masculine but don’t want to wear a shirt over a white tee. Everything was picked to make my slender frame appear more masculine (silly me) so it will be perfect for ftm. Stuff is also good quality from stores like club monaco and topshop. It’s all is still in great condition and was gently used. Bag is from topshop, as well as suit combo.

I am not asking for money in return (unless you have tops or heels or heeled boots or good make up or formal wear to trade). I can ship for free too. I will ship inside US only.

If you see what you like, or have questions, message me @stellaralpaca

Suit Jackets (emphasize shoulders well)

Pants and Jeans and one pair of shorts

Suit

Sweather (some fancy wool) and shirt (oxford collar)

Ties (Makes shoulders wider, waist smaller)

Tie clip

Watches (All are low-profile and slim so good for small wrist)

Bag

http

s://68.media.tumblr.com/a5420abe3769376e6012cb6a30a4927c/tumblr_okv2pluHnG1ru7q24o3_1280.jpg

Chocolate (NSFW)

AN: More SwAce-fic, non-AU, with SwArto and GrEster as functioning (sideline) relationships.

Grace knows it’s bad when she can’t tell the time in a hotel room. She knows it’s dark outside, but that’s all she has on the world’s regularities. Her phone is buzzing away somewhere and she really should be answering those calls and talking to her significant other, but the name that comes in flashing lights when she asks herself what she needs tonight isn’t Chester’s. It comes up as the name she wants to hear least for now instead, because there are several things that she likes about tour. That she isn’t sitting down with his parents and discussing wedding rings is one of them.

Chester likes to say that he understands, that he gets it, that once she has time to herself she’ll come around. The time to herself has made Grace realise that she has never felt more like punching a grown man in the face than she has now.

Sometimes Chester has the tendency to play the nice guy. He’s ambitious, funny, musical, responsible, polite and everything a sane woman should desire for herself, but he’s not blonde hair and green eyes, the very physical manifestation of Grace’s not-so-sane parts.

The name popping up again and again is Sarah’s. It’s fairly strange, she knows, because she and Sarah have done little apart from ripping each other’s clothes off and having glorious sex, and they don’t even know the other’s middle-name, but that’s beside the point for now.

Keep reading

Cute Harry Styles imagine

You were nose deep into your Human Development textbook, studying for your midterm, when your phone buzzed beside you. You put down your bowl of granola and yogurt resting on your knee, and slid off your bed shoved in the corner, to get to your phone, sat plugged in on your desk.
The baggy pullover brandishing your university’s logo, hung limply on your torso from being as loved and washed as it was, and a size too big. Harry had left one of his tee shirts at your flat, and it was big and warm and smelled like his cologne, and on the nights where everyone was out, and you’d opted to stay in to study, it was nice to feel like he was lying on the bed beside you, because you could smell him while you took a highlighter to the pages of your textbook.
“Just friends,” you reminded yourself. “You’re just friends.” But oh, did you want something more. You lifted the collar of his tee shirt to your nose, and inhaled the sharp scent of citrus and sandalwood caught in the fabric. Harry. Your Harry. Except, he wasn’t exactly yours. Not technically, anyway. You’d known him for a just a few months, but already, even though you’d both agreed that being friends was best for you, for now, you knew there could so easily be something more. It was so easy to be friends with Harry, and you’d felt closer to him than anyone you’d even been in proper relationships with. You could easily consider him one of your best friends. You felt safe with him. He made you feel like you could do anything, and he’d still be there when you got back.
Looking down at your phone, you grinned at who the text was from that had made your phone sound.
Heyyyyy love. Imma com get u k? im at a partyyy at u uni. Woooo. im not drunk tho. im fine. Imma com get u. stay ayt ur flat.
You laughed breathily, as you scanned over the text, your best friend, who had gone to this, ‘I’m going to avoid studying for my midterm exams party’ at one of the shared houses opposite your apartment building on campus, had texted you earlier to tell you that she’d spotted him. The also drunken text, reading:
‘Lemon pie boy here babz. Hes gettin pisseddd.’
Being on campus with you, quite often between your lectures, when he was home, you weren’t surprised that he’d made friends with the group of students who occupied the house. She’d also informed you, while very drunk and probably enjoying one too many Midori Sours from the liquor stash at the house, that ‘#uniboystyles’ was worldwide trending on Twitter.
Okay, but no driving, mister. I’ll come get you. Did you have fun? Are you drinking water?
It felt so natural to care for him.
Im here tho. I walkedrf I foundtjt a kitty…hahaha. Do u wantrgh a kity bbgy? It’s a nicr kityyy.
You laughed. “I think that’s Amelia’s cat, baby. My hall mate. He has a home. :(
Ill get u a kity then, love. I gpt you. loooovve yiu.
Okay, thanks baby. Are you okay? You need me to come get you from the lobby?
Yea. The lift makrs me headf feeeel funnh tho.
You shook your head, smirking at the screen, and making your way over to the galley kitchen along one wall of the open space of your flat to look for something to feed him to try and get him sober once he got here. You could hear some commotion out in the hallway, accompanied by a booming, raspy voice, and stream of drunken giggles carrying down the hall, and getting closer to your dooefore something heavy landed against it and made a thumping sound against the aged wood.
When you pulled the door open, you found Harry rubbing his forehead, and leaning heavily on the doorframe.
“Hiiii, love,” he drawled, tongue heavy. He smiled lazily with bleary eyes, his voice, rough and gravelly from drinking.
“Hi, lovey. Are you okay? Did you have fun at the party?”
He nodded, and the movement seemed to disorient him for a moment, as he wobbled. “I made…new friends!” He turned to lean out the open doorway. “Buh-bye new friends! I love you forever!” he shouted. He cheered, raising his fists in the air, before losing his balance, and starting to topple over. You moved quickly to catch him, hooking an arm around his waist, and pushing him against your side, steadying him. He wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling against your neck.
“Hi,” he hummed again, smiling against your neck. “I missed you…I…I missed you so much.”
Your heart swelled a little. He’d missed you.
“I missed you too, mister.” He smelled like his cologne and gin and a little musty, like beer.
“You smell like…like peaches and sunshine and fluffy kitties…” He giggled, followed by a hiccup. “I’m happy I’m here with you.” He felt the flutter of his eyelashes against your jaw, indicating that he’d closed his eyes. “Do ya wanna go out for…for a drink?”
You chuckled. “I think you’ve had enough for the both of us. Come on, big boy, let’s get you in here before you barf all over my entry way.”
You felt like you were helping a heavy baby take its first steps, as you guided him a little further into the warm flat, before he pigeon-toed his feet, and started collapsing to the floor, taking you down with him as he landed firmly on his ass. He landed with a surprised little squeak, and you nearly landed in his lap, moving just in time, to settle beside him, and he fell against your chest.
You laughed, pushing your hair out of your face.
“Oops,” he muttered with a drunken chuckle. “We…babe…we fell.”
“We did.” You looked at him, with his bleary eyes with purple splotches underneath. His lips, red and a little swollen, and his skin a little pale. You wanted nothing more than to kiss him on the forehead and tuck him into bed, to make sure he slept somewhere safe, and for a long time.
He blinked at you slowly, hiccupping. “Hi,” he said, nuzzling into your neck again, his lips, brushing over your pulse.
“Hi there, mister.”
“You look comfy,” he noted, dropping his cheek a little lower so it was over the surface of your full breast. “You…you…you didn’t wanna go to the party?”
“I was studying.” You pulled your fingers through his hair, pushing his beanie back a little, to do so.
“You’re always studying,” he grumbled. “You have very nice boobs. They’re sooo soft,” he explained, nuzzling his cheek down further. “Like clouds.”
You quirked up an eyebrow. He was drunk. You twisted a curl escaping from the brim of his beanie, around your finger, stroking your fingers up and down his back with your other hand.
“Thank you,” you hummed. “Are you comfy there?”
He nodded against your chest, closing his eyes. His fingers were then skating across the hem of your hoodie.
“Are you wearing my tee shirt?” he inquired, lips moving slowly.
You nodded, feeling a blush spread over your cheeks, from being caught. “Yeah,” you admitted. “It smells like you.”
“I think it’s hot,” he said, drawing out the last sound of the word. “I like it. You should wear them more.”
His fingers traveled further under the hoodie and tee shirt, skimming over the tender skin of your belly, and making it whir with a touch of heat and anticipation, before tracing back down and curling his finger into the waist of your sweatpants.
You stiffened. “Sneaking a peek at my knickers, are we?” You smirked, and so did he. He was feeling up the curves of your hips.
“What color are they?” he slurred.
You rolled your eyes, smiling at him. “You’re very cheeky with you’ve had a bit to drink,” you noted. “If you must know, mint. With little white dots***.”
He licked his lips, and pulled out the waist of your sweatpants, to sneak a look for himself. He peered in at the garment on your hips.
“You wear…you wear lacy knickers to study in?” He flicked an eyebrow up, saying each word slow and deliberate, and eyeing you.
“It’s never a wrong occasion for cute underwear, is it?”
He shook head. “No.” He snuggled against you further, getting as close as possible. “I think you’re pretty…like…a mermaid.”
You laughed, stroking his hair. “I think you’re very pretty too, mister.”
“Like a mermaid?” he slurred.
“Like a mermaid.”
“The worst ones,” he began. “Are the…ones that taste like juice…‘cos you don’t know when to stop…’til you’re fucked.” He swore huskily, his forehead wrinkling. He leaned up a little, and looked a little green and sick when he did, as the room was probably spinning. “I feel-I feel funny.”
“I would think so,” you reaffirmed, pushing his hair off his forehead, and placing a tender kiss there. I think you’ve sampled the bar, baby.”
He nodded, looking almost guilty with his lips puckered slightly. “My belly’s making funny noises,” he warned, in small voice, and it was only upon a closer listen that you could hear the gurgles, a telltale sign that things were about to take a turn.
“Okay, let’s get you into the bathroom, before the party is all over my floor.” You wrapped an arm around his waist, hauling him to his feet, and he squeezed his eyes shut as the room spun. “Got it?” you checked, and he nodded, stumbling forward. You managed to get him the few short feet to the bathroom, before plunking him down on the cool tiles, with a grunt. You got out a small hand towel and set it next to the sink. “You alright? I’m going to make you something to eat.” You were hoping to sober him up enough to get him home, and in bed with plenty of water and some pain reliever on the nightstand. It was almost two in the morning.
Once he nodded, you kneeled down to help strip his green bomber-style jacket free from his arms, plucking the blue beanie he’d pulled over his curls, free. Leaving him in just a navy blue tee shirt and jeans***. You took up the clothes in your hands, before scuttling out of the bathroom and back to the kitchen. You decided on making him pancakes and coffee. You rummaged around the fridge for butter and eggs and decided to make him one of your favorite raspberry-lemon pancake*** recipes, upon spying the pint of raspberries in the fridge. You figured it might help to get some nutrients back in him. You set a pan up on the stove and as you were whisking eggs into the batter, you heard retching, and winced. He came shuffling out of the bathroom a few minutes later, as you were getting your clunky coffee pot to whir to life, and flipping a couple of pancakes.
He was using the wall for support, and looked a little ashen, but some of the color had returned to his cheeks.
“Hey, you okay?”
He nodded. “I think…” he slurred. “I puked in your bathtub.”
You couldn’t help but smile at how guilty he looked. “It’s okay,” you promised. “I wanted to clean it anyway. Are you hungry?”
He nodded. “Yeah,” he rumbled, stumbling forward, and catching himself on the counter. “Smells good.”
“Thanks,” you smiled. “There’s coffee if you want it. Milk’s in the fridge if you need it.”
Harry nodded, knowing where your coffee mugs were, he went to the cupboard below the coffee pot and fished around for the maroon mug with large, cream dots***. He managed to pour himself some coffee without overfilling the mug, before going for the milk and sugar. You watched him put four heaping spoonfuls into the mug, before pouring enough milk in to make it pale in color, the cup almost overflowing before you quickly reached to stop him.
“I need milk!” he whined.
“You’ve got lots in there, baby,” you promised, stirring it for him. He brought it up to his lips, and tasted it, a little dribbling off his chin, and reflexively, you ran a thumb up his chin to catch the droplets. It was probably overly sweet and cold, but he didn’t seem to mind. You kissed his cheek, without thinking, and recoiled quickly.
“Sorry,” you said quickly.
“S’okay. I like it…when you kiss me.”
That sent a little thrill through your belly, as you plated up his pancakes. You took the mug from his hand, and set it down at the two-set, mismatched table and chairs, next to the kitchen’s only window.
“Come here, you, you need to eat something.” He huffed dramatically, and plopped down into a chair, and you took the one opposite him.
“Can I ask you a question?” he mumbled, taking a much too big mouthful of pancake between his lips.
You sat forward. “Sure.”
“A naughty question?”
You raised an eyebrow. “O…kay. Chew and swallow first, though.”
“Do you…” He was still tripping over his words. “Do you ever think about me…you know…?” He giggled. “When you…?”
Your eyes widened. “You are cheeky when you’re pissed, mister. A lady never reveals her secrets.” Though it was no secret to you that you did. “Do…you?” you ventured, tugging at the sleeves of the hoodie.
Harry grinned, tilting his head, and nodded. “I think…about you…alllll…the time. Not just for that, though.”
You blushed, thinking he wouldn’t really answer. “Oh…” you breathed.
“Can I tell you another secret?”
You gestured towards his plate. “If you eat a little more,” you coaxed, and he shoved another forkful into his mouth and chewed slowly. “What is it, baby?” You reached across the table, to hold his hand.
He swallowed, nursing his coffee. “I…I love you. I’m…in love with you.”
That took you aback for a moment, sending a shock through your heart. “Harry…baby…”
“I am,” he said, a little firmer. “I…I love you.” You’d said to each other countless times platonically, but this time, it felt different.
“Harry…I…” The words fell slack from your lips.
“Please…” he slurred. “Please, say you love me too.” He hid his eyes; to hide the alcohol induced tears. “’Cos, I need you…you make me better. And you always smell nice, and you’re kind,” he stressed. “And you know I’m sad even when I’m being to much of a stubborn arse to say so. You have this heart and I swear it’s like, a zillion sizes too big, and…I just love you, okay?”
“Harry.” You squeezed his hand. “Of course I love you, of course I love you too. I love you so much.”
Harry plunked his forehead down on the table. “Shit. I think I’m drunk.”
“Let’s get you home,” you coaxed. “Where’re your keys, baby? I’ll take you home.”
“I don’t wanna go home,” he said firmly, as he rose shakily to his feet. “Can’t.”
“What? Why?”
He licked his lips. “It’s…empty…and I don’t like sleeping…”
“By yourself,” you finished. You looked around. “Okay. But be good.”
He nodded, and you pulled him over to the bed, easing him down gently, flicking lights off as you went, until the only one on, was the lamp beside your bed.
You helped to strip off his tee shirt. “Raise your arms for me.” And fiddle with his belt until you could tug the jeans down his legs. Once he was down to his boxers, he flopped back down onto bed burrowing under the blankets, and you pulled off the hoodie and sweatpants, leaving you in just his tee shirt and your panties, and you crawled in beside him.
He pressed himself against your back, hooking his arms around you, and spooning you close, his face burrowing into the back of your shoulder, before you could register what he was doing. He held you tight, hooking his leg over both of yours. His breath, washing down your neck. You tensed for a moment, before he sighed, completely comfortable and relaxed with you in his arms. He kissed the back of your neck. He was so warm and soft and you felt for the first time in awhile, safe and comfortable.
“Harry,” you warned, feeling him move his hand from the curve under your breast.
“Hey, love?” he mumbled.
“Hmm?”
“I’m…I’m gonna marry you someday, ‘kay? We’re gonna get married and have lots ah cute babies and be soooo happy.”
You smiled. “Sounds good, baby.”
“Let’s get married…now.”
“Now?” you inquired. “At three in the morning? How about tomorrow? When you smell a little less like gin and vomit.”
He hummed, seeming satisfied. He kissed your shoulder. “Okay.” There was a moment of silence. “Can I…I tell you a’other secret?”
“Sure.”
“You’re snuggly and soft. Imma call you Snuggles ‘till we’re ninety, ‘kay?”
You nodded. “Okay. I like that.”
“Love you.”
“I love you too, Harry.”