#''Come Back to Me'' was FUCKING PERFECTION and I NEED THE AUDIO FOR THAT SONG ESPECIALLY ASAP!!

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

I watched this Big Country concert from 1990 last night and IT WAS SO FUCKING GOOD!! 10/10 would watch again (still skipping the songs I don't like, though, like "King of Emotion").

[cptnhngjng]

pretty sounds (part 1)

 “such a good girl. such a good, good girl for me. making all those pretty sounds.”

you help hongjoong out with his new song

-hongjoong x f!reader -1.4k words -smut, mdni, 18+ only c/w: studio sex, overstimulation, oral sex (f recieving), unprotected sex

multiple parts (eventual multiple members x f!reader)

part two three four

it’s a common occurrence to visit joong while he’s working in the studio. i mean he practically lives there at this point. most of the time you just kinda hung out there while he worked. you both liked just being in each other’s presence—hongjoong working on his music and you doing whatever it is you do. 

this one particular evening it was very hot and humid outside, so you wore a skirt to help keep cool. when you showed up at the studio, hongjoong didn’t think too much of it when he saw you in the skirt. he was a little stressed because he was in a serious song writing block and was struggling to finish up a song. just nothing sounded good and it was really pissing him off. 

you made yourself comfortable on the couch in his studio while hongjoong went back to working on his song. you were focused on your phone, mindlessly playing a game, but you kept hearing hongjoong groaning and sighing in frustration. you stood up and walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned over, kissing his jaw. 

“what’s wrong, joongie?” you ask. 

hongjoong looked up at you and sighed. “i can’t seem to figure this song out, I don’t like anything I come up with.” he turned his chair around so he could face you. 

“i wish i could help you somehow,” you said quietly as you ran your fingers through his short hair. 

at this point hongjoong finally noticed the skirt you are wearing and how delectable your thighs look. his hands grasp your waist as he stands up to kiss you. his hands slowly trail down, brushing against your ass before he grips your thighs tightly.  he kisses your lips again before moving to your jaw and neck. he whispers against your skin, “i have an idea on how you could help.”

“mmm, what is it?” you ask as you lean your head back, allowing hongjoong more access to your neck. 

he nips at your neck before he pulls away and looks you in the eyes, his stare intense. “let me record your noises while i make you feel good, please”. 

you let in a sharp breath before quickly kissing hongjoong. “if it’ll help, then yes,” you whisper against his lips. 

you knew hongjoong always like the sounds you created while you two got intimate. he would always remind you of how pretty you sounded. the first few times you guys fucked, hongjoong was very quiet, and you got self conscious about the noises you made, so you tried your hardest to be quiet as well. you were convinced that he didn’t like your noises.

hongjoong did not like that you were being quiet. he loved the way you sounded—the small gasps and lewd moans you let out. which is why he tried to be quiet. he wanted to hear you and how he good he made you feel. so when you weren’t making the noises he so desperately needed to hear, he thought something was wrong. once you both explained to each other the reasons why you both were quiet, things changed. you no longer were self conscious of your noises and hongjoong made sure he always reminded you how much he loved to hear you. 

hongjoong deepened the kiss and pushed you towards his chair. he made you sit down—he broke the kiss and and checked to make sure he was recording audio. he got to his knees and rubbed his hands against your soft thighs. he looked up at you with a smirk. thank god you wore that skirt today, he thought. he grabbed your thighs and hooked your legs over the arms of his chair, allowing a perfect view of your panty covered pussy. he pressed some kisses to your left thigh while his fingers slowly danced up your right thigh, towards your core. 

“already so wet for me,” he chuckles as he slipped a finger past your panties, feeling your slick. 

hongjoong started to pull your panties off, you lifting your ass slightly to help him. once your core was free and exposed, hongjoong went back to kissing your thighs, slowly trailing up, getting closer to your cunt. “so pretty, can’t wait to make you feel so good,” he mutters before licking a thick stripe up your slit. 

you gripped the short strands of his hair as you felt him attach his lips to your clit and suck. hongjoong’s fingers quickly found their way to your entrance and he started pumping them in and out. you moaned lightly as you attempted to grind against hongjoong’s face. he giggled at your attempt and the vibrations went straight to your core. 

hongjoong removed his fingers and you whined out at the emptiness. he licked his fingers clean before diving back in, tasting your juices. his tongue plunged deep into your hole while his sharp nose pressed against your clit. again, you attempted to grind against his face, but his grip on your thighs was strong. 

you continued to let out gasps and moans as he continued to fuck you with his tongue. your nails scratched against his scalp when you felt his fingers prodding at your entrance again. his tongue circled your clit as his fingers reached for your sensitive spot. you could feel your release coming quickly. 

you let out the loudest and filthiest sounding moan, causing hongjoong to hum satisfyingly against your pussy. your toes curled as you felt your climax hit. your grip on joong’s hair became stronger as you rolled your hips against his pretty face. you could feel hongjoong smirking against you, continuing to pump his fingers as you come down from your high. 

hongjoong would not let up. he continued to abuse your cunt with his mouth and fingers, causing you to become overstimulated. the pleasure and pain was becoming too much. you were whining and begging at hongjoong to stop. but he kept going, feeling you squirm under his touch. 

“hongjoong—ah, please” you moaned out as your thighs clenched around hongjoong’s head. tears were starting to form. you were so sensitive. once again you could feel another climax hitting. 

“you can do this pretty girl,” hongjoong said as he curled his fingers up against your g spot. the squelching noises coming from your cunt and the moans from your mouth were so loud and lewd. you just know hongjoong’s face was covered in your wetness. 

hongjoong finally pulled away as you started to come down from your second climax. you were right, hongjoong was covered in your slick. he looked at you with a proud smirk, before tasting his fingers that were covered in your juices. 

not even thinking, you grab hongjoong by his shirt and slam your lips against his—tasting yourself on his mouth. he groaned into the kiss, feeling himself getting harder and harder. his jeans were tight and his cock begging to be freed. 

continuing to make out, hongjoong undoes his jeans and pulls them and his underwear down just far enough to free his dick. you are quick to grab him and start to pump his cock, spreading the thick precum around his tip. hongjoong groans again as he lifts you up by your thighs and switches places with you, so now he is sitting on his chair. you are over top of him, lining your entrance up to his cock. you slowly sink down, feeling the stretch. hongjoong throws his head back as he feels your wet warmth envelop him. you lean against him and start sucking the skin against his throat. he thrusts up against you, causing you to moan against his neck. 

you were still so sensitive from hongjoong abusing your cunt with his mouth and fingers, so you were already close to coming for the third time. you start to grind against hongjoong while his fingers make way to your clit. he rubs slow circles and your walls start to clench tightly around him. more whines and moans leave your mouth as you reach your high. hongjoong’s fingers continue to abuse your clit while you ride him. 

“joong,” you gasp out, “i’m—i’m cumming!” you tremble against hongjoong as you cum on his dick. 

hongjoong lets out a low moan as he kisses you hard. “such a good girl. such a good, good girl for me. making all those pretty sounds.” he thrusts up into you a few more times before he finally cums in you. 

[blingblong55]

Late-night needs- Price, Ghost & Rudy NSFW

A/N: I will never get over how hot Rudy's nose is in this picture

Based on a request:

-Phone sex with Rudy plz! - Any CoD man to the Badjhur audio of phone sex, pleasee -Hi Kasper i just want to start off by saying I LOVE ur fics and since i know you don't deny our requts can yoiu pleasee do Price and Ghosr to number three of the Kinktober event your doing? it can be separate and to an f reader. Thank you Kasper!!

F!Reader, phone!sex, smut, MDNI, 18+

A/N: This reminded me of Sweet by Cigarettes After Sex for some reason, not the entire song, obvi

He had been away for three months and lately, all the frustration started to build up, so, he called you.

Price:

It was late at night for him and your recent bikini picture had stirred some much-needed release for him.

He looked at your picture and began to stroke his cock but it was not enough so he called you, all you needed was to see through the screen the not-so-well-hidden tip of his cock.

"Hi, darling, I know, I know....yes my love but right now I need for you to obey, yes?...perfect."

He loved to command you, and he slowly made you touch yourself for him. His left hand held his phone whilst the other began to wank his ever-needy cock.

"Now, slaps your tits, love...oh yes...just like that," he had a grin on his lips. Enjoyed how he can be so far from you but still bring both of you pleasure.

He loves to watch you get absolutely destroyed and he also likes the idea of you recording yourself and fucking two fingers inside of you.

As you continued to show him your pussy, how you grabbed a dildo and began to fuck yourself with it, he began to moan, his head thrown back.

"Just like that, keep that up, doll," he said between groans.

One thing he disliked about his job is how anytime he needs a quick fuck you aren't around and hates how some men on the team have heard him wank off.

As you moaned louder, his seed fell out of his dick and onto his hands, creating a sticky white mess.

He loves to send you pictures, so once he hung up, he sent a video of his mess.

Playing with his own cum and then slapping his cock to the sides, knowing you'll call later for more of this fun.

Ghost:

He sends you multiple videos of his erection with texts that plead for you to answer his call.

Once you answer, he sets his phone up, sitting back on his chair and then watching as you play with your cunt.

His head rolls back and all that he can hear in his darkened room are your moans and his heavy breathing.

You try and get all angles for him, knowing that it's what he's needed.

"Fuck, lovie, moan more, let me hear your moans," his voice was deep and harsh.

By some point you take out the dildo that was his exact measurements, he knew it would come in handy when he was gone.

He watched you intently, a grin on his face as you screamed his name.

And he was proud that he trained you enough to only moan his name, even when he was far from home.

"Faster, let me see your tits bounce...yes...just like that, don't stop~" he moans and then as you whimpered, he nods. You cum on the dildo and he cums with you

His seed all over his fingers, he shows them to you, "look at what you made me do, R/N," his voice hinting at his smile.

Rudy:

It was rare for him to call but once he showed you his bulge, you couldn't resist and ended up helping him.

He was always so sweet, except for when it came to helping his erection, that needed immediate attention and a rough side of him.

You tased him, only for him to make you spank yourself hard.

He made you touch your thighs and then slowly remove your panties, leaving you exposed to the camera.

"I want to watch you as I stroke myself, princess," he ushers out. His strokes increase as you moan his name, screaming every now and then as you wait for him to let you come.

"Fuck, mi amor, just like that...oh yes mi princesa, you can take it." He moans and watches as you grind on the pillow, your tits bouncing and the vibrator making you scream in pleasure.

"Show me that pretty pussy of yours," he manspreads, his cock hard and the tip swollen. You fingered yourself on camera and he chuckles.

"Oh....aren't you candy for my eyes, mi amor," he spits on his hand and strokes faster.

His cum leaks everywhere and then, because he knows you like it, he licks his hands. "Taste yourself too, mi amor," he whispers and grabs his phone.

"aren't you an obedient little angel," he smiles and you lay in bed exhausted

A/N: no idea if this is HC anymore...ya girl can't sleep rn

Tags: @liyanahelena @sharkssharkssharkssharks @simpxxslutxx @thatgoblin @zensshawty @amygaster004 @jamesrifftapes @uvosbtccc

[specialized-rexan]

SCREENSHOTS I GOT FROM THE JEREMY JORDAN LIVESTREAM YESTERDAY. especially love the comments on his duck drawings. he was very proud of some of them since he needed to practice before the stream. he admits he does not draw much lol

and here's Lucifer's signature that Jeremy came up with: a cursive capital L attached to a pentagram!

the stream was SO FUN and literally only felt like 20 minutes even tho it was almost an hour

at one point he mentioned he's making pancakes with olive oil now since he has high cholesterol, and that he LOVES how the pancakes turned out. someone responded:

(later someone joked he should make pancakes with bacon grease and he almost shouted (not angrily) "DO YOU WANT ME TO DIE? I JUST SAID I HAVE HIGH CHOLESTEROL. I just said. I had high cholesterol. Are you TRYING. To kill me."

anyway back to screenshots lol)

"Take that, depression!" was a popular quote to write on prints, and he said he hoped we're not depressed and it was very sweet

some more quotes written during the stream and other notes:

"I'm gonna be signing these prints of my boy Lucifer, the short king of Hell"

he drank both a cold smoothie and hot tea during the stream. "Doesn't make any goddamn sense, but here we go."

"It's never too late to fuck up--too late to fuck shit up" (a legitimate accidental stammer. but still perfect in its own way)

"Every time I hear the name 'Shay' I think of my daughter's friend at school. My daughter's obsessed with a friend named Shay. 'S all she talks about. 'Shay Shay Shay Shay Shay Shay.' Shay and Madeline. It's like 'You can be your own person. Clara. You are your own HUMAN.' …HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KATHERINE."

hopes to go to some conventions for Hazbin Hotel. more likely to go to cons in New York, New Jersey (where he lives), or Philly area

"He's just a li'l cutie. :3 Is he really da bosh? :3" (wondering if Lucifer really is the Big Boss of Hell Himself or if it's just more of a title)

"Hope you're not depressed"

" 'Write something Lucifer would say to cheer someone up.' And I think Lucifer would think that… 'SINGING MAKES EVERYTHING BETTER!' At least when it comes to rebuilding your relationship with your daughter."

"Guess what's in my smoothie. There are six ingredients. Go."

"…said draw a little duck, so I drew the smallest duck I could. (holds print up to camera then says in small high-pitched voice:) It's a little duck!"

MORE QUOTES UNDER THE CUT. THIS POST IS GETTING LONG ASFQJSKSKSKKS

_____

about his smoothie again: "Obviously, I just went to the gym. So I gotta have some kinda supplement in there. ... WHAT'S THE BASE, Y'ALL? YOU GOTTA HAVE A BASE." (someone could use that audio and give a character a bass guitar lol)

(still about people guessing smoothie ingredients:) "WATER? Why would I put water in my smoothie. (mutters:) Water is for losers. ... Kale! -grins and points at camera- That's it! You win. That's my smoothie."

his smoothie was blueberries, bananas, strawberries, protein powder, almond milk, kale

"…with a hUUGE shmiley faysh! :3" (about a little " =) " smile he wrote with an autograph)

"THAT DUCK IS CUTE!"

"We love, we stan Lilith"

AGGRESSIVELY, ABOUT A JOKE HE MADE: "GET IT?"

Some fatherly advice from Lucifer: "Don't fuck up your lives like I did 😎"

HE SANG THE START OF HELL'S GREATEST DAD AND WANTS A MIMZY-LESS VERSION THAT ACTUALLY HAS AN ENDING QSJFKSKKSKS

he's only seen Hazbin Hotel once, and he had "~champagne fountains, caviar mountains, that's just to staaart~" going through his head for the two+ years between recording his lines and the show airing. he wasn't able to tell anyone it because of non-disclosure stuff, and eventually he even forgot what that song line was from. but it still went through his head

"[Person he was signing an autograph for] is a bi girl [bisexual], and that's pretty baller"

"AN INCREDIBLE DUCK YOU SHALL HAVE"

"Take that depression!! Quack"

"Hold please!" (i just liked imagining Lucifer saying almost any small thing)

Jeremy Jordan says Lucifer is short, and not just that all the other characters are tall (i cannot confirm that that is canon even tho that's what i want LOL) "What gives!? There are short people in this world, and they need some love"

someone asked what he thinks about OC x canon ships. he was confused about what OC means and then when the chat explained, he was confused about how "OC x canon" works. but he figured it out after thinking for a moment. "So basically everybody wants to fuck Lucifer. GOT IT."

"Am I going to Hell for this" (about all the pentagrams he's drawing)

"…so i just did a bunch of stars and hearts around Emery's name 💜"

someone asked about his favorite Hazbin Hotel song, and he answered that season 2 has a rock song he really likes 👀 👀

"(a requested phrase for an autograph:) 'Duck lord loves you no matter what.' ...Don't know what that particularly means but…"

[stone-stars]

Transcript:

Murph: Uh, and then of course we've got Caldwell Tanner! Caldwell: Hang on, I gotta get ready. [Jake laughs.] Murph: You don't have a Birdie rhyme ready, dude? Caldwell: I have a Birdie rhyme. Emily: He has an instrument, my man! Caldwell: I have an instrument. [Pause, then the sound of a wooden frog being played. Caldwell speaks rhythmically.] Nights are cold, days are long! [Wooden frog is played once.] Try to be bold, try to be strong! [Two strokes of the wooden frog.] But with my friends and Birdie by my side, nothing can go wrong. [Two strokes of the wooden frog.] Hold for frog song! [Rapidly plays the wooden frog with intensity.] Emily: [clapping, prolonged] Yay---!! Caldwell: Yes! Yes. Murph: A-- A very important part of that is that he had a wooden frog? That he was... rubbing with a stick? [Emily and Jake laugh. Caldwell softly plays the frog.] Murph: I don't know that it quite-- worked with audio. Emily, talking over him: It was really good. It was really-- Agree to disagree Murph. [Jake and Caldwell laugh in the background.] Murph: And overall-- this is a podcast. So one could argue-- Emily, over him, with increasing intensity: Agree to disagree. Agree to disagree. And now this entire episode is gonna be scored by a wooden frog. Murph: Yeah? Caldwell: I'm so-- I'm so fucking sorry, I can't play an instrument on our podcast? Murph and Emily: Yeah. Caldwell: That's what Emily does all the time! Emily: Yeah. It's fucking gorgeous. It was gorgeous. Murph: Yeah. Okay. Okay. No-- Caldwell: Hey, you know what-- Emily: Caldwell, I'm so impressed. I'm so fucking impressed. Murph: Jake's weirdly quiet. [Jake laughs.] Jake's pretty quiet. I don't know what-- he might agree with me. Caldwell, under him: Thank you so much Emily. Emily, yelling: I can speak for both of us! Caldwell, I'm so fucking impressed! Jake: (laughing) I'm-- I'm in between Murph and Emily, I think. I thought it was fine. [Murph, Emily, and Caldwell laugh.] Caldwell: I'm going intro obscure 2024. Emily: Twenty-twenty-fure. Caldwell: Twenty-twenty-fure. Murph: Jake had-- Jake had a little bit of a scared look, like he didn't know where Caldwell was going with it. [The others laugh.] And I will say I was scared as well! When you broke out the wooden frog and just kind of scraped it as you were talking, I thought, surely this can't be that much of a part of it. Emily: And I saw it and I said "I hope this roller coaster does flips." And it did! [Caldwell laughs.] Murph: Yeah. Jake: It did loop-de-loops. Murph: It also is a reference to… was it Dungeon Court where you were doing slam poetry? Emily: Well-- I was thinking you were doing a "So I Married an Axe Murderer" cadence? Caldwell: (laughs) Kind of. It's always in there a little bit. [Emily laughs.] Murph: Okay, so you need to be caught up on Dungeon Court, Caldwell: Right. Well no, last-- Murph: You need to know that he has a frog… with him. Emily: Yeah, it was perfect, Murph. Caldwell: Yeah, it was flawless. Murph: (disbelieving) Yeah, it was perfect? Emily: The audience has followed! Murph: (laughs) Okay. Caldwell: Actually, last episode we were talking about not doing intros and doing alternative stuff. Murph: Oh, okay! Caldwell: And I said I was gonna get a cork keyboard. And I looked, but they were kind of expensive, so I figured I would use this frog statue that my friend Kiana got me. Jake: That was definitely "alternative," you were correct. Emily: I think it was awesome. Murph: Yeah. Alright. [Emily laughs.] Jake: Snaps for you, dude. Murph: Snaps for you. Caldwell: Okay, here we go. [He plays the frog.] Murph: Okay. (laughs) Again. Caldwell: Start the show! Jake: (laughs) Now he won't put away the rest of the episode, right [Caldwell laughs.] Emily: Yeah, I was like "okay, maybe I gotta tone down the support." Murph: Get it away from the mic. Get it away from the mic. Emily: Just for the sake of it not coming back during the episode. Caldwell: Just gonna put it over there now. Murph: Okay, let's go ahead and do a little recap!

[Everyone laughing.] Calder: This-- this is really catching on. Kenna: Wow, if only you had some kind of wooden frog to scrape! [Emily laughs harder. So do Jake and Caldwell.] Caldwell: Reaching for it. [Murph laughs.] Resisting. We're about to make a DC 30 check, I should not make Murph mad. [Everyone laughs.] Jake: Fair. Murph: Weird it's-- the wind picked up and it's a DC 35 check, now. Caldwell: Huh.

Murph: And you can tweet about the show using hastag Naddpod that's N-A-D-D-P-O-D. Everyone, as Caldwell scrapes the frog along to the lyrics: We are we are! The youth of the nation! We are we are! The youth of the nation!

[olderthannetfic]

Escapade Dance Party 2023 Writeup 3/3

Second Half

Jaskier has no more fucks to give by Gondolin AMV

Obviously, having just shown the other Witcher, I had to open with the more familiar one.

Vids under 2 minutes also aren't actually danceable no matter the tempo, so this makes a good upbeat intro to a section.

Grandmaster of Troublemaking (The Untamed) by NKZephyr Edits

I love the enthusiasm and goofiness of this vid.

Goncharov (1973) | Read the description! by Etoile

Come on, we had to have Goncharov!

TBH, there were other vids, but basically none of them were danceable.

【HIStory3-圈套】On a daily by Nerjaveika

Trapped's moment seems to have passed, but the combination of great use of text and this fun song made this one a perfect fit.

Ego | AMV | Mo dao zu shi & Heaven Official's Blessing (CC Lyrics) by Nitisha Donghua Productions

I was more looking for Heaven Official's Blessing alone, but most of the options I was finding weren't really danceable. I love this song and was looking for a vid to it anyway.

trouble in my head | lan jue & zhang ping | a league of nobleman by Victoria

I have no clue what this is. I probably found it in the sidebar while searching something else, but it's such a pretty vid.

История Бай Ци (AU, Bai Qi/Shen Zui) by Kemriko

What is this? Who knows. I liked it, and it was m/m, so people got to watch it.

BTS Jhope • Gasolina• |FMV|• by kookie taex

In a concession to how many people the previous song would inevitably chase from the dance floor, I wanted to follow it with something much more booty-shaking. I fucking love Gasolina and am always looking for more vids to it. Tragically, a lot of English-speaking vidding fandom has No Taste and does not vid this kind of music.

Yes, this is a vertical vid of J-Hope dancing to Daddy Yankee. No regrets!

Мания Хирото by Fausthaus

Ah, my favorite source of vids: Russian fandom combats. Are they on AO3? Yes. Have English speakers gone anywhere near their vast stores of battshit content? No, absolutely not.

No one at the con, including me, knows anything about this fandom. Too bad. The music is great, and I wanted to dance to it.

Отступники by fandom Vampires of Central Russia 2021

This is another fandom I spotted in the fandom combats. The vid is shorter than I'd normally show, but I wanted to showcase this interesting vampire fandom that I didn't think most people at Escapade had heard of yet.

Sex and Violence by bironic

Another one breaking my rules. Nandermo was a must-have for a vampire-themed year, but mockumentaries are shot like ass on purpose, and that makes them hard to vid, so my options were limited. Bironic's always a sure thing, if not exactly obscure to an Escapade audience.

Sadly, the embed seems to be dead at the moment.

Sex Drive by Franzeska

Yes, I will always play my own vids when I need to fill a hole in a playlist.

Night Watch was such a passion of mine for a while and the source of my ill-fated attempt to learn Russian. I always meant to go back and add text to this vid to echo the weird subtitles they did for the movie, but I never got around to it. Oh well.

【盾冬衍生】no body no crime 黑暗爽文利刃出鞘兰森/我们一直住在城堡里表哥 by 蜜桃奶霉包

Batshit AUs are my favorite. When I found this, I knew I had to inflict it on everyone.

The Hunger - Say Yes To Heaven by themaybatatter

I had a long list of vampire fandoms, most of which I never did find a vid for, but The Hunger was at the absolute top of my list. After scouring the internet, this was the only arguably danceable vid I could come up with and one of the few in general. What the hell, internet? What the hell?!

“你不了解你的妻子，我吻过她” by 没饭呲了

This would be a lot more danceable if it weren't quite so plastered with show audio… but too bad. As usual, sufficiently horny femslash gets an automatic pass. Everyone swayed vaguely on the edges of the dance floor staring, so I still consider it a success.

【巍澜】这可是极限拉扯的鼻祖！！！ by 甜飞惹

Guardian is another fandom where I'm spoiled for choice, but the Chinese vidders do like to include an awful lot of dialogue. This vid stood out for great dance party music and no audio clips.

Morpheus & Hob | The Night We Met by WolfPhoenixWriter

A lot of people were into Sandman this year. I liked this vid for making me feel a lot of feelings despite never having seen the show and barely remembering the comic.

It's a bit slow dance for Escapade, but I loved the emotion in the song too much to not include it.

Boyfriend | FMV | Yan Wei X Xu YouYi by Nitisha Donghua Productions

I guess this was my horny femslash year.

Lee Soo Hyuk - Gwi (Scholar Who Walks the Night) Savage by Serendipity

What's this? Dunno, but it's got a vampire and this great song.

The Monster by frayadjacent

This one was pure self-indulgence on my part. It was made for a con by a vidder everybody knows, but the vidder felt it required too many content warnings and didn't send it in the end. I, however, reserve the end of the dance party to show more content warnings-heavy things if I feel like it. I despise how fandom has turned into a "compromise" where anything that reaches into my soul is never on the table while pabulum always is. Fuck that. I am the arbiter of what's normal.

This vid lit me up in places I'd forgotten.

Ahs Hotel :| Tear you Apart by xxxxxx

This song was used in the show and there are a billion vids to it, but this one is far better than the others aside from how it just cuts off.

AHS isn't a fandom most at the con are in, but I just had to include its vampire season.

A Shot for the Pain by Franzeska

I honestly did go looking for other Penny Dreadful vids. Sadly, the selection was not impressive, and most of it was not to anything danceable, let alone goth club-appropriate music.

【拔杯|暗黑慎入】你是我奇怪的瘾症 by 两只阿夏跑不快

I've seen a lot of Hannibal vids. Almost all of them are gross. Few are as interestingly edited as this one.

Twilight Zone by hmmyeahokay

Okay, this one is a massive blast from the past. Do people outside of Highlander fandom even remember this bad 2001 movie?

I loved the song, and I appreciated that there was a black lead. That and vampires trump the fact that it's a het vid (ish).

Supernatural ►Cry Little Sister by Gwen

I scoured Youtube for vids to this song. I thought this was a particularly interesting take out of the extensive genre of horror set to Cry Little Sister. (No, seriously, it's a genre.)

【荣耀向我俯首｜kinnporsche】没长出恋爱脑前的少爷们怎么能错过这首BGM by 旧城与笙Zz

Kinnporsche hit big this year. I wanted a really fantastic vid that people hadn't seen. I love that this one is by a Chinese vidder (probably) to a French song.

Sadly no longer online, probably for being of a horny BL series and posted on a Chinese site

Kingdom come by fandom ATEEZ 2022

Okay, ATEEZ isn't a big fandom at the con, but this vid is some sort of kink AU, and I'm always weak for that. It's also to a Taylor song everybody loves.

Last of the Real Ones by colls

I cheated again and included a well-known vidder, but do you know how hard it is to find stormpilot vids? Kylux has like eight billion genius animatics and fan art vids. Finnpoe? Bupkis!

I don't know if people still care about this part of Star Wars, but all of the Bandom trash immediately rushed the dance floor when the song started playing.

louis & lestat | take my breath away (interview with the vampire) by ScribbledDreaming

I have ended with this song before, with finnpoe in fact, so that's a little in-joke for myself.

What better way to end the vampire party than the new IWTV and the most over-the-top vid I could find?

[kristiemewisstan]

The Tortured Poets Department Unhinged First Listen Review:

Fortnight-

NEEDS MORE POSTY, we love a “I wanna kill her”, this one MIGHT BE about Matty Healy lol “I touched you for only a fortnight”

The Tortured Poets Department-

“WHO USES TYPEWRITERS ANYWAY” YOU BITCH ITS YOU LOL, Charlie Puth name drop 🤨 oh god so many name drops, THIS BRIDGE, not the wedding ring…

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys-

THERE WAS A LITANY OF REASONS WHY WE SHOULDVE PLAYED FOR KEEPS THIS TIME my jaw literally dropped the entire last verse

Down Bad-

“Everything comes up teenage petulance” this one is cringy but in a way I love, Taylor Is Very Much A Down Bad Girlie

So Long, London-

this song is tachycardic I PROMISE I MADE THIS JOKE BEFORE “STOPPED CPR”, two graves one gun I SWORE THAT YOU LOVED ME BUT WHERE WAS THE CLUES damn she’s really sad to lose London huh

But Daddy I Love Him-

this would have a cool music video “she’s was chaos he was revelry” this is if red and the 1975 had a child that’s the vibe

Fresh Out the Slammer-

Okay so this is the “I just realized how bad this relationship truly was and thank god I’m out of it”, okay the weird slow down stuff wasn’t my favorite thing

Florida!!!-

I’m cackling, THE FLORENCE VERSE IS SO GOOD I think that this is just a Florence and the machine song it sounds so like them

Guilty as Sin?-

Okay this is the first one I’ve been like “oooooo I really like this one” “what if I roll the stone away, they’re gonna crucify me anyway” DAMN some religious imagery will always get me right in the trauma

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?-

This one has a lot of the brain scratching pauses “don’t you worry folks we took out all her teeth” oof this song is just really angry

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)-

Cowboy Like Me but they don’t end up happy, okay “good boy” made me giggle so apparently in a 12 year old boy

loml-

PIANO! WANT IVE WANTED THE WHOLE TIME “still alive, killin time at the cemetery, never quite buried” I’m getting a gun and flying to London, I swear “TALKING RINGS AND TALKING CRADLES 🤨” JOE ALWYN FOUND DEAD IN A DITCH “THE LOSS OF MY LOVE” COUNT YOUR DAYS JOSEPH 💀, this should’ve been track 5

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart-

hello production that is giving Barbie movie/80s vibes, this is the first one I’m certain was written recently like it was definitely written on tour, the peppy “cause I’m miserable!” Hurt Me but also same

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived-

THE BREATH ahhhhh PIANO! “I don’t even want you back I just want to know if rusting my sparkling summer was the goal” okay back half of the album is eating, THE PICKUP, SPEAK NOW VIBES BUT MOM IS OLDER AND MADDER

The Alchemy-

ok ok ok “I circled you on a map I haven’t come around in so long but I’m coming back so strong” fucking meant,👌 touchdown mention lmao, okay this is SO ABOUT TRAVIS 🥹🥰

Clara Bow-

Best production on the album in the first 10 seconds, BEAUTY IS THE BEAST THAT ROSE, WAIT WHAT????? “You look like Taylor Swift” yeah queen because you are lol, It’s so people can make the audio of her singing all the album names lmao

First Overall Listen- 7/10

I was getting nervous in the front half but the back half more than made up for it

The vibe was just off at the start and honestly that’s probably a me thing and will get better with further listens

The lyrics were amazing as always

Production was okay, some of the songs were perfect and some had me going 🤨

Charlie Puth

Top 3 in no particular order (apparently I like songs that hurt me):

Guilty as Sin?

loml

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

[fbfh]

husband!kit walker x reader hcs

wc: 900

genre: fluff, domestic bliss

warnings: kit being adorable, optional mention of reader having a bad family, kit standing up for you, kit is a good husband and head over heels for you

song rec: be my baby - the ronettes

a/n: I LOVE THIS MAN!!!! I LOVE HIM!!!!!!! AWOOGA!!!!!! also I actually rested and it only took two days and I feel literally reborn???? I should do that more often lol

@yesv01

Honestly I can’t even start with dating headcanons

Kit Walker is such pure raw husband material that if you get within six feet of him a diamond ring appears on your finger

He’s a simple man really

He just wants to do a good job at some honest work to provide for you

Come home to your cozy house you share

Kiss you on the lips and dance around your kitchen while dinner cooks

Maybe a couple of rugrats running around 

You know that tiktok audio of “you can pick anyone fictional to be your husband but divorce is never an option” “I COULD GO INTO HEAVY DETAIL. AND I WILL.”

It’s Kit

That’s literally Kit

If you need a fake husband 

Or a temporary husband 

Don’t choose Kit

Bc he will treat you so fucking well

You’ll get way way way too attached

To get this out of the way

I hate to see Kit in distress or pain

But dear god does he look hot when he is

Anyway back to happy Kit

Which is all the time bc he is so so happy around you

I’ve said it before I’ll say it again, this man’s full name is Kit “that’s my wife!” (proceeds to knock someone out swiftly with one punch) Walker

He starts every morning by waking up smiling

Because he gets to wake up next to you

He looks at you, all sun soaked in the morning light, and he can’t believe he gets to live another day with a living dream come true like you

Then he wakes you up with kisses

So so so many kisses

Sometimes other things but that’s another story (and not for the sfw hcs)

This man knows everything about you

He knows how you like your coffee or tea or whatever, your favorite food, your favorite songs for kitchen dancing

He knows everything you love and hate

Yk the “excuse me! he asked for no pickles >:(“ meme

That’s Kit

Kit will (very politely bc he’s kind and understands how hard it is to work jobs that involve the general public bc of all the assholes that come through the garage) fix your order if someone gets it wrong

When someone asks if he’s your boyfriend he’ll happily and proudly correct them that he’s actually your husband

He doesn’t do the thing where he holds up his hand and points to his ring but he will pull you close and wrap his arms around you 

And most likely kiss you in front of the person

God I haven’t brought up The Look in a while

But Kit Walker CONSTANTLY looks at you with The Look 

Like all the goddamn time 

He’s not racist, probably an ally, and definitely a feminist

And he loves you so so much

God he’s such a catch

Once your friends spend a few minutes around him they start to realize that too

Or anyone really

You’re usually met with “wow where did you dig him up?? Where did you find him?? How do I get one??” 

Feel free to say you met at the mental hospital bc no one can tell if you’re joking or not

And he is literally perfect to bring as your date to holiday parties and family events

I mean he’s your husband so why wouldn’t he be your date

But no matter how hectic or crazy family stuff gets, he can totally handle it

He’s the perfect buffer

He’s so naturally smooth and likable and charming 

Everyone in your life that meets him totally approves

I mean all they have to do is see the way he looks at you

No one can deny that

If your family is really bad

Or generally not someone you want to be around

Kit will defend the HELL out of you

He’s not scared of confrontation, especially if it’s on your behalf 

And he is not scared to counter any underhanded comments with “Now, what did you mean by that?”

Will not let it go

He’s not going to let anyone talk shit about his spouse, his love, his sweetheart 

Especially the people that should have your back

It’s so interesting to watch because even when he’s confronting someone and defending you and telling people off for thinking they can treat you like that

It still doesn’t make him feel scary or less gentle than you know he is

And he is so so gentle with you

He says I love you all the time

With every touch

Every kiss

Every look and act of service

He’s saying it

He tells you how much he loves you all the time

Because how can he not??

You’re the most knockout dynamite dreamboat he could ever hope to be around 

He doesn’t know how he got you to fall for him back 

How he got you to love him

(he absolutely swept you off your feet)

But he’s just so glad that you do

He knows you inside and out

He knows everything about you

And he loves all of it

And you know everything about him

And you love him right back

Because you guys really are a match made in heaven

[rinion-b]

Bocchi the Rock! is a work of art.

Obviously, it's animation, and animation is art. But I mean more than that. BtR as a piece of media is the coalescence of so many art forms and things that I enjoy about creation and media into one coherent work.

And this is from a 4koma manga series.

Read more below the Read More, this is mostly free of spoilers. Mostly.

CHAPTER 1 (yes this has chapters)

Okay, let's set the scene.

The year is...well, let's say just before the 2010s drop. As a kid who still doesn't know much about anime, you stumble across two anime series. The first one in this example is K-On! It's a CGDCT/slice of life (whichever term you prefer) about a girl learning the joy of playing music and making friends...for a rough summary.

It's a really good anime, and for someone who had a pretty poor experience with learning instruments in school (personally, acoustic guitar and piano) it definitely planted the seeds of "guitar is pretty cool" and "making music is pretty cool" in my mind.

...But it's not perfect at doing that. It has the growth across the series, but that growth is streamlined, I'd argue even idealized (though forgiven due to what genre this show is), and it lacks the specific type of impact that I've always been partial to in music.

The other show had that impact.

The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya is one of my all-time favorite series, and for more than one reason. Today, as you might expect, I'm here to talk about specifically the band scenes of God Knows and Lost My Music.

Fucking Legendary.

This scene has Impact. I can hear this, watch the scene, and it makes me both want to pick up my own guitar or just sing along as if I'm in the crowd. Every time. The genre of the song being to my tastes helps, but on a technical level the delivery and setup is extremely well done.

What this show doesn't have for guitar, though, is the growth. Obviously. If you've seen Haruhi, you know why, and if you haven't, please go watch it? Please? Do it for Nagato. Then watch the movie.

...Anyway.

I'm not a connoisseur of anime. I've honestly barely watched much anime since halfway through college, so I'm sure someone out there has other good examples of a music-focused anime that achieves both that sense of Growth and Impact at the same time.

Good on you. Hopefully you agree that Bocchi the Rock! fucking slaps.

BtR comes out of the gate swinging, and it left me with a concussion. Social recluse discovers the appeal of guitar, and then they timeskip 3 whole years to her being good at the instrument. A reasonable human timeframe is terrifying. I'm not even joking here.

Then they address the issue of learning to play with Other People. This isn't even just applicable to Bocchi, this is about band and group music settings in general. You can be cracked at solo performances, but if you aren't used to even being around someone else, it's going to take time to get used to playing or singing or acting around them comfortably.

ALSO CAN I JUST SAY HERE BEFORE ANYTHING ELSE THAT KESSOKU BAND'S SONGS GO HARD??? NOT JUST THE AUDIO THE MVS ARE ALSO KINDA INSANE what the fuck i am looping them so much ok back to the essay

The depiction of learning and growth doesn't end there by any means. Episode 8 is maybe the hardest I've been hit by watching something in the past couple years, and I live in terror because of the thought they'll get me again with something in the finale.

From the next GIF (Kita) to the one after that (Bocchi playing a guitar), I am going to talk about the details of that episode. Your one spoiler warning.

Ok. I am now going to nerd out about how specifically Bocchi the Rock! is not something that can properly be captured in a static panel format after the events of Episode 8. You with me?

As a music anime, obviously having music to go with the band elevates the anime above the manga by default. It's sort of a staple of the genre and leaving it out would result in this weird state the Pokemon titles are currently in where they need that crucial audio to sell the delivery. Anyway sound good.

But the vast majority of performances are either deliberately bad for the sake of showing a beginner status, or essentially flawless. BtR does not fucking do this. Their audition run was really solid, and you as the viewer are primed to expect that same thing from the band because if they've hit it once, they can hit it twice right?

lmao

Guitar, Loneliness, and Blue Planet feels almost painful to listen to here. Bocchi narrates internally the issues she's seeing, but even without that you can fucking FEEL the dissonance. The vocalist tripping over her lines, the lead not being in charge of the pace of the song, a general buildup of nerves and lack of experience that you can feel and see and hear and that burrows into your skull as the performance comes to a close. S l o w l y. They do not skip over this. You are in the audience watching this band stumble on their first performance. It hurts.

AND THEN BOCCHI FUCKING FLOORS IT. (see the GIF marking the end of this spoiler section)

By taking charge of the room with a solo, she's able to drag everyone out of that auditory funk they were just dragged through. Herself, the audience, the viewer, her bandmates. They pull out their new song, That Band, and it is taking all of my willpower to keep this paragraph from devolving into a keymash and incoherent rambling about how much I love this scene and this song and this series.

It's really good. It's really fucking good.

This scene capitalizes on both the ability to put the viewer in that uncomfortable situation in the first place and then drag them out, and ALSO by hiding the full contents of the original songs before the first time they're performed live in full (Guitar, Loneliness, and Blue Planet was used at their audition in a similar way, you knew essentially nothing about it going into that scene). These things together with the commitment to sitting through the entire scuffed first song before the intense shift into overdrive as Bocchi shreds both her guitar and the awkward silence and they go into a second equally impressive original song makes this scene by far my favorite in the anime, and the only thing that would top this is if they outdo themselves in the final episode.

Spoilers over! Welcome back.

Between the commitment to bringing out Bocchi's character even further in the original songs, the technical details of the songs themselves, and the attention to detail in the actual performances during the show, there is an incredible level of passion poured into making this show that is honestly up there with the people who made the movie Redline. (Go watch that one if you have the time, it's a banger too but that's a different topic).

AND THAT'S JUST OFF THE AUDIO AND STORY STRUCTURE BABY, BUCKLE UP HERE WE GO AGAIN

CHAPTER 2: the rest

Now comes time to talk about the fact that this music series that can and will get you emotionally involved in it IS A COMEDY AS WELL.

There is no comedy in the actual performances, and that also contributes to why they hit so hard when you see them play out. BtR manages to walk two tightropes at the same time, delivering immensely high-quality musical performances and a solid cast right alongside genius visual gags, surreal visuals, references to a ton of other media, and fun and engaging personalities throughout the roster.

Bocchi's ability to deform and warp reality is a tangible and recognizable thing to the cast, and the amount of different styles and dimensions and framerates and methods of delivery and length of the gag vary from episode to episode, as well as within each episode. It almost feels like a class presentation session at times, with new styles and references popping in as a guest before cutting back to the regular depiction of the characters in their normal state.

They also??? Do 3D really well??? Like yeah you can tell what parts of some performances are using 3D but it isn't intrusive. It's implemented in a way that it complements the rest of the scene instead of detracting from it (I should clarify this also applies to the more esoteric 3D scenes but for different reasons than the ones used in performances).

Reading through an translation of an interview done with some of the staff (link here, highly recommend reading it) reveals that the animation crew is indeed just full sending into a gag and pulling out all the stops to deliver a punchline without breaking the coherence of the series as a whole.

I love them. I love this show.

CHAPTER 3???? CLOSING WORDS I GUESS

There is more I could say about this series, about the things that I love so much about the show, about the characters and my personal favorite gags and other moments I love.

But hopefully you understand now why I hold BtR in such high regard. A music anime produced to the highest degree, a legendary combination of music, audio, writing, visual media variance, and character designs.

It no doubt stands on its predecessors. But to compare it to K-On! in a way does both of them a disservice. This is as much a passion product as it is a production, and the entire staff and cast have my deepest thanks for delivering so well on this series.

I am not ready for the final episode.

Help.

[celestial-requiem]

@plaidypus tagged me in some thing so I guess I'll do it

Three Ships: In no particular order other than the first three that come to mind.

Sora x Riku - Kingdom Hearts: The ship of my childhood. Pretty sure the only fandom ship I have ever written fanfic for (when I was in high school....it has almost certainly been lost to time now). I fell off of KH for nearly 10 years but picked up Dream Drop Distance a couple years ago and MY GOD the gay pining. These bitches gay, good for them.

Luck x Ludovica - Tiger, Tiger: I love them, your honor....Complete nerd who's so far in the closest even she doesn't realize she's gay meets flirty eldritch god beast with a massive ego. It's a perfect combo.

Buggy x Crocodile x Mihawk - One Piece: Listen. I'm not even at Cross Guild stuff yet but the fanart. It's so spicy. It's like 75% of the reason I even started watched OP in the first place. I can pinpoint the exact piece of fanart that made me go :eyes: maybe I should watch this show... And here I am, over 300 episodes later and still going. I'm fully aware that I'm not getting to Cross Guild any time soon but I'm hooked without it anyways rip in pieces to me.

First Ever Ship: This for sure was not my first but it's the oldest one I can think of. Kovu and Kiara from Lion King 2. I have always been a sucker for the misunderstood bad boy(/girl/NB/person). Also One of Us is literally Disney's best song don't @ me.

Last Song: Tot Musica by Ado I have been listening to nothing but Ado for three weeks now and it's almost entirely because of One Piece kjahsf although my buddy introduced me to her music before the movie came out so I was already into her stuff.

Last Movie: Rocky Horror Picture Show at a Halloween party lmao. We also watched Us and Coraline.

Currently Reading: Pretty sure it was Isles of Abandonment by Cal Flyn. Very interesting read about the impact that humans have on a place after they've abandoned it. I really need to get back into listening to audio books while I'm at work...

Currently Watching: You might be surprised to hear it's One Piece. But I have slowed down a bit because Water 7/Enies Lobby broke me a little bit ;_;

Currently Consuming: Water and some mini cookies n cream bars...(my mom sent us so much fucking Halloween candy help)

Currently Craving: Nothing. Had a delicious dinner of fish and chips with some green beans that Py made and I am satisfied.

I ain't gonna tag anyone because I'm a lazy fuck. Fill this out if you wanna. Or don't.

[id0g]

I can't sleep. I feel so sad and hurt. If I had literally anything else going for me I'd quit art school right now and never look back. I feel so stupid for even trying to do this.

Every 3rd year student that takes a PRAX class (basically a class where you do research related to your art practice and make work accordingly) has to sign up at the end of the semester for a review panel. Two teachers who probably don't know you, your work, or anything basically come to critique your project for PRAX.

My project was a frog modeled after a radio I had as a kid. I mostly do plush making now so I made an imaginary friendified version of him and I wanted to keep the audio aspect and put together a series of CDs with a wide array of audio related to my childhood- from me telling bedtime stories as a kid to freaking Club Penguin pizza theme. It went over super well in my actual class. I had peers laughing along with the funny home video clips, bonding over familiar songs. My actual prof gave me a perfect grade for the project.

So why does it feel like my panelists hated it the second they walked into the room? Their aura was menacing but nonetheless I still introduced myself, explained my project. They then proceeded to roast me on a spit with an apple in my mouth and a head of garlic up my ass.

This wasn't my first panel critique. I had one at my old school too and that one went well. They commented on the things they thought were successful, parts that could be improved, ways I could go about it, artists I should look at. That wasn't what happened here. They just bombarded me with the most unproductive unhelpful comments. "Why should I care? What is supposed to make me want to interact with it? There's nowhere for me to sit. (Are you too good to sit on the fucking ground? That's part of the whole experience. Kids don't give a fuck about where they sit.) I'm just not really feeling it. There's nothing to pull the viewer in. I don't know anyone in the pictures so why should I even want to look at what's on the CDs?" They didn't even give me time to respond they just kept shooting daggers at me over and over and over. I'm someone who takes critique well and am even eager to hear it and see where I can improve but this was literally nothingburger. They didn't propose any possible solutions. They just scolded me, infantilized me. The nail in the fucking coffin was when this pompous ass photography teacher had the gull to say that I'm "narcissistic" for making work about MY childhood memories and assuming other people could relate to it. What???? WHAT???? It was so insanely fucking out of pocket. A) Every artist has to be a little narcissistic to assume anyone would want to partake in anything they make B) Assumption? Was it not an accurate assumption to make? When I sat there with my peers and one of them told me they felt like they were gonna cry because they felt like the piece was about them? That they felt relieved?

The worst part of all of this... They judged all this by just the appearance alone. They didn't even take the time to listen to a single fucking CD. To even touch the plush, the art. "You should experiment with unexpected materials. I already know what plush feels like so why would I want to touch it? It's a familiar material." Are you thick in the fucking head? That's the ENTIRE POINT. ITS A CONSCIOUS MATERIAL CHOICE. I chose plush fabric because it's soft and comforting and FAMILIAR. Then they critique it for being too "sunshine and rainbows." "I'm not saying it needs to be grim but it's just too opaque."

And to cap it all off they ask me if I have any questions. What questions could I even ask these people? They inadvertently gave brutal answers to questions I already had. So I said: "Oh no, not really. You pretty much answered them. I was mostly going to ask about methods of installation and ways that would encourage an audience to interact with a work." Oh and what does this pompous asshole say? "You shouldn't even be thinking about that. You're not there yet. You still have a lot more work to do." Who the hell even are you hello? This compounded with them not being satisfied with my answer to their question about artists that inspire me. I told them most of my inspiration for this work came from people in my personal life. "You need to research artists. You're here to learn their methods." Bold of you to assume why I'm here. Bold of you to also assume I didn't research artists in this class about RESEARCHING. So I rattle off the artists I looked at this semester. "Well that's not really plush. Well they're not really looking at nostalgia." Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. You can't call my work opaque then discourage me from researching artists that are not EXACTLY aligned with my "opaque" work. Then they started talking about how I should focus more on maybe making work that is a personal archive (what the fuck else am I doing? you just said that was narcissistic? I'm so fucking confused) and I brought up an artist I had seen in gallery last term and they were all oh yeah I saw their work they really build a personal archive bla blah blah. She puts clippings from her life in binders. I put clippings of my life in CDs. Maybe it's more acceptable for her because she's a professional artist in a gallery and I'm a student being treated like a stupid idiot baby. Maybe it's because she just has more stuff to present. Multiple binders full. I'm 25 she's fucking 40something. She's had time to collect. Also this project spanned the scope of ONE term. Materials are also EXPENSIVE. CDs aren't cheap anymore. I don't know. It all just wasn't helpful and it didn't do anything for me except tear me down and make me feel discouraged.

Art is the only thing that has stuck for me after high school. I tried to do science, I tried to do med, I tried to do nursing but I couldn't force myself. If I had literally anything else going for me I'd drop out of art school after that fucking panel. I feel ripped to shreds.

I saw my favourite teacher right before too and she was so excited for me and she even asked me to email her pictures and everything after but I couldn't even bring myself to do that.

I have so much work left for the end of semester and it's so hard to do anything now. I just want to be left alone to sulk.

I haven't cried in a long time. Definitely not like this since I was in high school.

[greta-van-chaos]

Could I request a twin situation where there is slight jealously, kinky sex, ect, smut please…. You can do whatever you want with it.

Rocket Queen

Josh and Jake Kiszka x Reader - NOT TWINCEST CMON

Warnings | Explicit sexual content, cursing, mentions of sex under the influence, toxic behavior tbh, jealousy, humiliation, edging, hairpulling, use of a belt, choking, degradation, slapping, oral (m & f receiving), f/m dom, f/m sub, audio recording of a sexual encounter (consensually!!!), spitting!!!, i literally went all out

Word Count | 5.5k words

Authors Note | THIS IS TOTALLY UNEDITED MY APOLOGIES IN ADVANCE (SPOILERS) I love this request so much! I've been wanting to go all out with a fic and this is the perfect opportunity to do so! The title and overall fic inspiration is from the song Rocket Queen by Guns 'n' Roses. In the song there's a girl moaning and it's the drummers girlfriend sleeping with the singing after he cheated on her. They literally put her moaning in the song!!! Figured I'd do something similar :) YES i sorta stole a little something for abaddon so full credit goes to garbagevanfleet <3

~

You knew it wasn't a good idea. Hell, it shouldn't have even been an idea in the first place but after a drink too many Sam was just looking too good in that cable knit sweater. After another shot for confidence, you made your move, pressing up against him when he helped you line up your cue for a game of pool. Without you even trying he was already getting hard, probably from how drunk you all were and your purposeful choice of skimpy clothing. It didn't take long after that for him to be muttering the cliché phrase lets get out of here into your ear and then fucking you senseless when you made it back to his house.

Now you're stuck with Sam's arm firmly holding you against him. You hadn't meant to fall asleep but he was so warm and you were so drunk. Upon realizing that the twins could come in to get Sam to go into the studio at literally any moment you shoot up in bed and scramble to find your clothes. You've stayed over at the guys house before but never like this... it was sort of an unspoken agreement that your relationships were all strictly platonic. It's not like you felt romantically for Sam, you were just sexually frustrated and he was willing to help you out, surely the twins could understand that if they found out, which was almost certain considering Sam couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"Woah, woah, woah, what's wrong y/n?" Clearly you had woken Sam in your flurry of anxiety. He stares down at your from your kneeling position on the hardwood floor as you gather your clothes.

"If Jake and Josh know I'm in here for the reason i'm in here, who knows what could happen." You tug on your shirt as quickly as you can but get your head stuck and groan impatiently as you untangle yourself.

"They won't care!" You can hear it in his voice that he doesn't believe that for one second.

"Sure, whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night, Sammy. Either way, I'm not sticking around."

"Aren't you coming to the studio with us?" He's now getting up and dressed himself as well and you can help but look over his naked form as he stands.

"I was but i don't think that's such a good idea anymore."

"Oh yeah, make us look even more sus-"

A loud knock on the door cuts off the bassist and you both share a look of horror when it swings open and both Jake and Josh are standing behind it.

"Oh, sorry, are we interrupting?" Jake chides "We're going to the studio but plans have changed a bit. We don't need you to record your bass today."

Sam looks perplexed but also slightly relieved. "Text me if you change your mind."

"You, on the other hand, we need you to come with us." Josh's voice holds more malice than you're used to and both of the twins eyes have a shine that lets you know they're planning something.

"Why? I'm not even in the band."

"We just need you for some background vocals."

It wasn't uncommon for you to occasionally step in and sing a bit but by the way that Jake is looking at you, you can tell it's not going to be a regular day at the studio.

"Meet us in the car when you're decent." Josh's voice is slightly cutting and when he motions to your bare legs your cheeks flame with embarrassment, you hadn't even noticed your lack of bottoms.

After getting properly dressed you give Sam a weary look and head downstairs to the car. Josh is sitting in the passenger seat and Jake is in the driver's which leaves you to sit in the back. The air in the car is thick with tension and you gulp when the car doors lock and Jake starts driving.

Jake is first to break the silence, "What the fuck was that about, y/n?"

You play coy, hoping it'll help you in the long run, "What do you mean?"

"Don't fucking do that shit, it's pathetic. Why the fuck were you in our brothers bed this morning?"

You want to bite back with some comment about how he never actually saw you in the bed but think better of it as you notice his hands gripping the steering wheel impossibly tight. "We were just having some fun, we got stupid drunk last night and made a bad decision, so what?"

"So what?" Josh echoes with a bitter laugh.

"Is this you choosing a side? Do you like Sam better than us, do you think we couldn't make you feel just as good, angel?" The way Jake says angel makes your stomach flip but you try your best to hide how he's effecting you.

You want to laugh at his inclusion of Josh, as if the two of them are unit but once again think better of such an action when they both look so serious. "You two must be on something, it was obviously a mistake! It's not like i'm in love with him or something."

"We just feel left out, is all." Josh chimes in.

"Everything has to be a fucking competition with you three." You cross your arms over your chest a turn your head to look our the window. The rest of the drive is spent in complete silence which couldn't unsettle you more. When Jake finally pulls into the lot of the studio you jump at the opportunity to get out a stretch your legs, finding yourself very sore from the previous nights affair.

"Looks like Sammy fucked you good." Jake groans as he watches you bend to touch your toes and wince. You can feel him running his hand over the swell of your ass and so you stand abruptly, following behind Josh into the studio.

Once in the small, red carpeted room you turn on your heel and face the twins. "What is it that you need me to record? I wanna get this over with so I can get the fuck out of here."

"Well, we have sort of an obscure idea." They both look at you expectantly and so you nod for Josh to continue. "We heard you last night and well, we wanted to record some of that for ourselves to put in Lover, Leaver."

You're so taken aback that you actually take a step away from the boys and laugh, defensively crossing your arms over your chest. "Are you fucking insane?"

"Well, we also have a little bet you see. I think I can get prettier moans out of you than Joshy boy here can."

Once again you laugh in disbelief, brining your fingers up to massage your temples "Oh my god, you're serious."

"Come on angel, you sounded so pretty, give us a little taste for the new record." Jake steps towards you, pulling you by your wrist and placing a kiss to it.

"We think it's only fair that we get to hear it too, since you went behind our backs and fucked our little brother." Josh is now advancing on you too, tilting your head towards him by your chin and running his thumb over your bottom lip.

Jake now has a hold on your waist and brings his lips to your neck, running his tongue over your pulse point. You thread your fingers into his hair and do the same to Josh with your other hand. When dips to actually kiss your lips you arch your back into him. All possible frustrations have melted on your tongue and all you can imagine now is getting absolutely destroyed by these two in the recording booth.

"Guys--" You breathe out but a paralyzing wave of lust rushes over you and you succumb to their subtle touches. "Fine, I'll do it."

"Good girl. Now get in the booth and take your clothes off." Jake practically growls.

Your body is tingling with electricity and every step you take makes you shiver with excitement, who knew it would be so easy to get you to say yes? When you step into the booth you close the door carefully behind you and begin to strip. There's a worn leather couch and a table inside, along with a bunch of amps that aren't plugged into anything. You don't bother making a show of taking your clothes off, you just hurriedly pull them from your body until you're down to your bra and underwear.

You watch from the glass as the boys have some sort of conversation that quite obviously involves you as they continue to motion to your almost naked form. Finally they both nod and Jake comes in.

"Are you familiar with the light system?" You're not expecting him to ask that so you stand like a deer in headlights, nodding aggressively. "Use your words and don't make me ask again."

"Yes, I am."

"Okay, if i were to ask you what colour you are right now what would you say?"

You bow your head, not necessarily out of embarrassment but just to let the contents of the situation really sink in "Green."

"Good." Jake takes a minute to walk around you, regarding your body and the way it trembles under his gaze. The air crackles with anticipation of what's to come and you know he can feel it just as much as you can. "Do you want me to touch you?"

You don't even have to think, letting the word slip out so effortlessly one would think you've done this with him before "Yes."

He steps towards you and you now become aware of Josh sitting on the other side of the glass, watching you with a hungry expression. Jake stands behind you and slides his hands along your stomach and up to cup your breasts. You push against him, arching into his touch. A moan leaves your lips when he brings his mouth to your necks and sucks a hickey into the delicate skin, all the while kneading your breasts through your lacey bra.

"Jake--" You whine and he snakes his hand up to your throat, effectively trapping you against him.

"Such a pretty mouth, saying such pretty things, did you sound like that when you were fucking Sam last night? I bet you sounded like a whiny little slut, begging for him to fuck you."

The odd tinge of jealousy in his voice is very uncharacteristic. You've all had your moments flirting with each other but it's never ended like this before. Jake starts to step backwards and you have no other option but to follow, your feet practically dragging on the floor as he walks you over to a waist high stack of amps.

"Bend over, pretty angel." He speaks into your hair and then releases you. You fall forward and he does nothing to help you as you scramble to place yourself against the amp. Without warning Jake grabs your panties and all but rips them off, throwing the fabric aside. "Jesus Christ, look at your pretty cunt all pink and wet for me."

"Jakey, please--"

A harsh slap lands on the swell of your ass and you jolt forwards, letting out a loud whine. Against your better judgement you cast your hand behind you, searching for Jake's hair, skin, anything that can anchor you to the moment.

"So fucking desperate, I wish you could see how pathetic you look right now." He lands another smack on your ass, this time harder and a sound short of a scream escapes your throat. You're shaking violently, lust drunk and touch starved. You can feel the ache between your legs growing and you have to squeeze your thighs together to get as much friction as you can.

"Touch me Jake, please" Your stumbling over your words, still reaching around behind you until your hand lands on something. When you look back you've grabbed Josh's arm and sigh, you hadn't seen him come in.

"Look at that, she's dripping all over her thighs." Josh laughs. He then bends down into a squat and drags his fingers through your folds, collecting your slick on his fingers and standing back up. "Open up." You obey and part your lips just enough for Josh to slide his fingers against your tongue. You suck desperately at the digits, trying to get as much as you can out of the simple gesture. His eyes are dark, pupils blown so wide you can barely see the chocolatey brown colour his irises typically hold.

"I brought you this" Josh says, now turning his attention to Jake. He's holding something in his hand but you can't crane your neck far enough to see it. Your body jolts when the feeling of leather being dragged across your reddened ass alerts you to the item Josh retrieved.

"Would you like to do the honors or shall I?" Jake soothes the skin of your ass with his palm, gently sweeping it over your burning flesh.

"You can, I'll hold her." Josh then directs his attention to you "What's your colour angel?"

"G-green" You stutter out, so incredibly turned on that your tongue will barely form words.

Jake runs the belt against your skin again before drawing back and cracking it against you. You yelp in surprise and moan when Josh's mouth goes to soothe over you with his tongue. Once he's pleased with himself he takes your wrists and moves to hold them against the small of your back. Jake kicks your legs open even more and now you're completely at their disposal, unable to move and completely spread out.

"Count to four for me angel, does that sound alright?"

You nod but he doesn't take that, instead he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you up so he can growl in your ear "Words, don't make me make it nine."

"Yes--" You let out a shuddering breath "--fuck, yes. That sounds fine."

Jake releases you and pets your head "You're sure you're green?" His whisper is so quiet that you barely catch it.

"Yes, keep going."

"Dirty girl." Josh jeers.

Finally you feel Jake draw back again and when the belt makes contact with the swollen skin of your ass you choke out "One."

Josh continues with his method of soothing, dragging his mouth over you and then allowing Jake to spank you again. The process is repeated until finally the last hit radiates through the room and you cry out, "Four!"

Giving you absolutely no time to recover Josh spins you around to face them. Your legs can barely hold you up and there's drool coating your chin. "Who do you want first?"

"You. I want you first, Josh." You don't even have to think about your choice, you already know Josh will be the kinder of the two and you'd much rather have an explosive grand finale with Jake.

"I'll go make sure we record this." The younger of the twins exits the booth and leaves you to stand shaking under Josh's gaze. His eyes are soft and he reaches out to caress your face, brushing some hair away from your eyes and wiping your chin.

"Where do you want me?" You whimper out, voice faltering to such a great extent that you wince.

"Awh, angel, you sound so fucked out already." His tone is teasing as he motions to the couch "I'll take it easy on you mama, go lay down over there."

You walk on wobbly legs over to the couch and do as he asked, laying back across the couch. Your bra is still perfectly in tact and you go to remove but Josh gives you a warning look. "What are you going to do to me?"

"I'm going to fuck you so hard the only name you'll remember is mine."

You throat goes dry and your tongue feels heavy and inflated in your mouth. "Please, Josh." The boys had barely touched you yet and you were already a shaking mess.

The singer sheds his shirt and starts to unbutton his jeans as he walks towards you. Your eyes are glued to his hands as he pulls down his pants but then they find the outline of his dick in his boxers and your eyes go wide. He was a god, his soft tummy and chest all tan and beautiful, you wanted to run your hands over his skin, drag your tongue down his chest.

You pull yourself up onto your knees and give him your best puppy dog eyes, "Can I please touch you?"

He moves to stand in front of you and forces you to meet his eyes by grabbing your chin. He first removes the confines of your bra and then with a curt nod lets you know that you can finally place your hands on him. You start slow, rubbing your hands from his thighs, to his hips, to his stomach, to his chest. Placing your finger tips on his shoulder which is as far as you can stretch your arms, you lean forward and press a kiss to his stomach. He sighs and tilts his head back as you continue, kissing down each side of his abdomen, dragging your tongue along his soft skin. Josh's hands are deep in your hair, scratching over your scalp as encouragement. When you reach his happy trail you cant help but drag your tongue over it. A shiver wracks through him and whiney moan leaves his lips.

"Do you want me to touch you somewhere else, Josh?"

He relinquishes the power he previously had, clearly too caught up in the idea of having your mouth on him. Josh was never a dominant person and you knew he'd break eventually. He nods his head frantically, pulling your mouth against him again but you move back, looking up at him through your lashes.

"Words, baby." You rake your nails over his hip bones and his hips jut forwards. "And here I thought I was the one about to get fucked until I can't speak, oh how the tables have turned."

"Please mama, don't make me wait."

Slowly, while still keeping eye contact you peel down his boxers and then watch as his cock springs free and slaps his stomach. He's so painfully hard that you hesitate in putting your mouth on him, taking him as far as you can without gagging. His moans are echoing through the booth and when you cast your gaze through the glass to Jake he's mindless scrolling on his phone, clearly waiting for you to be the one moaning, it almost makes you laugh.

You're sure when but at some point Josh's hold on your hair tightened. Now he's thrusting into your mouth at his own pace, not caring for whatever rhythm you had set. He's clearly pressing towards an end goal and you let him use you, relishing in the pretty whines floating past his lips as he fucks your mouth.

"I'm so close." He whimpers and you runs your hands up his thighs as encouragement. He's going impossibly fast now, thrusting sloppy into your mouth and tipping his head back his eyes squeezed shut. Without a second thought he lets go, releasing into your mouth and down your throat. He pulls out with a bit of a sheepish smile.

"Sorry, I got carried away, lay down, it's your turn." His switch in demeanor is laughable as he takes on his serious voice from before. You see Jake perk up from the other side of the glass and shoot him a little smirk. Laying on your back you spread you legs for Josh and watch his mouth hang agape at your eagerness.

"I need you so bad Josh, please." You make sure to really play it up that you have an active audience.

Josh licks his lips and kneels between your legs, pulling you to his mouth by your hips. His tongue is warm and soft against you and immediately you grab his curls, holding him to you as hard as you can manage. You tip your head back when he slides two fingers inside of you, allowing a deep moan to leave you. Locking eyes with Jake you purposefully moan again, this time louder and with more conviction.

"Josh-- Your mouth feels so fucking good, oh my god." You back arches up off the couch and he lays his tongue flat against your clit so you can grind onto him and build up your pleasure by yourself. Upon locking eyes with Jake again you continue to mutter Josh's name "No one's ever made me feel this good-- fuck--"

What once was a smirk painted on the guitarists mouth has turned into a bit of a scowl. Clearly he's a lot easier to make jealous than you had expected and that was a game you'd love to play if he'd keep treating you like he was earlier.

Frantically bucking your hips into Josh's mouth you let out you most obscene moan yet, sounding as though it was straight from a porno. Jake better be recording this cause if your moans are going into a song they need to be extravagant.

"God, I can feel your pretty cunt clenching around my fingers, are you gonna cum, angel?" His eyes are wide and with the way that he's looking at you you can't help but buck your hips against him harder.

"Yes-- fuck-- i'm so close Josh, please let me cum!" You don't know why you've begun to beg but it feels right and you can tell his likes it by the way his fingers pick up speed.

Unfortunately, right at the last second, right as you're about to come undone under him he pulls his fingers out of you and stops moving his tongue against you. You shoot up into a sitting position and uncomfortably shift your hips.

"Josh, please--"

He cuts you off, pressing a finger to your lips, "If you're gonna cum, you're gonna cum while i'm fucking you."

Shifting so he's sitting on the couch, legs spread, cock already hard again, he moves you into his lap. Your back is to the glass so you can't see Jake anymore which is slightly unsettling. Josh stalls a bit, sliding his cock between your folds and toying with your clit.

"Could you just get on with it?" You sound slightly more aggressive than you intended and he smacks your jaw a little bit harder than an innocent swat.

"The only thing I wanna hear from you is how good my cock is making you feel, understand?"

"Yes, sir--" You jest but his sinks you down onto him with as much force as he can muster. Your attitude is caught in your throat and the only thing you can focus on his how big he feels inside of you.

"Can't be mouthy with me now, can you? Barely done anything and I've already fucked you stupid, look at your face."

He's referencing how your mouth is hung agape and your eyes are squeezed shut. You're still trying adjust to his size so when he starts moving a scream-like moan tears through your chest. He's fast and harsh, your pelvises meeting at a bruising pace. Every time he shoves you down he completely bottoms out and the fullness is like nothing you've ever felt before. Your tits are bouncing in his face and he' completely transfixed by the sight.

"Fuck--" You head is tipped back and your fucking yourself on him relentlessly, following the pace he's created and intensifying it by moving in sync. You wrap your arms around his neck and press your face into the crook of his neck, crying out at the newer angle now that your bodies are flush against one another. You moans are slightly muffled by Josh's neck and just as you consider pulling yourself away a harsh tug at you hair pulls your head back. When you open your eyes are locked with Jake's. Why are these two so good at silently entering rooms?

"Open your mouth. Right now." Jake's voice is commanding and your lips immediately part. You watch him almost like it's an out of body experience as he harshly spits into your mouth and then presses your bottom jaw up to close your mouth. Josh's pace has grown a little sporadic while all of this unfolded, probably because you're clenching around him with fierceness you didn't know was inside of you.

"Do it again, Jake." You rasp, still locked in Jake's eyeline.

"Such a slut, begging for me to spit in her mouth." He speaking to Josh and you can feel the twins curly hair tickling your breasts when he nods. "Go on then, beg for it, angel."

"Please, Jakey, I want you to spit in my mouth. I need it."

A smirk paints his face and he nods, not needing more than that to persuade him. "Open up then, angel."

You hurriedly open you mouth, a little bit more than before and when he spits this time he dips his fingers into your mouth and spreads the mix of both of your saliva over your lips as an act of degradation.

Josh is slowly coming apart under you and you're not that far behind. Snaking your hand down between the two of your sweaty bodies you circle your clit, bucking your hips forward. Josh's head falls into the crook of your neck as he cums deep inside of you and after one particular jut of his hip you're sent spiraling into your own high. Jake presses his lips to yours from above you, Spiderman style and although you thought such a kiss would be awkward he somehow makes it that much more sensual. You're uncontrollably moaning and huffing deep breaths into his mouth as you come down and he swallows them all, now gripping your throat and kissing you with a newfound passion.

"It's my turn now." The slightly possessive edge to his voice makes you clench around Josh and he lets out a groan that Jake tries to ignore. "You think you can cum again, for me, angel?"

"Anything for you Jake."

The guttural moan that escapes you when Jake removes you from Josh's lap is slightly embarrassing and your cheeks actually flush red. Once on your feet Jake properly presses his lips to yours hungrily. He's gripping at your hips hard enough to bruise but you couldn't care, you're too focused on how good his lips feel against yours. Jake walks you backwards towards the glass wall and holds you against it by your neck.

"You need to clean yourself up." He growls and you don't really know what he's talking about until you become all too aware of Josh's cum creeping down your thighs. You dip your hand between your legs and gather as much of it as you can onto your fingertips and then put the cum-slicked digits into your mouth, making sure that Jake is holding the eye contact and that Josh is watching too.

"That's so much better." You sigh and give him a cute little smile.

"So fucking mouthy." Jake tsks and shoves his fingers into your mouth to silence any further sass. With his hand occupied he only has one to unbuckle his belt so you help him, gripping the leather and pulling closer. He makes a hmph noise that sends you reeling back into a state of pure lust, although you're not sure why. Your hands work feverishly at the belt and then you're pulling down his pants and releasing his cock from its confines. Jake lets out a strained groan when you start to pump him but he swats your hand away.

You try to form a sentence around his fingers but it comes out muffled, so he draws his hand back, wiping the spit across your lips as he did previously before letting you speak.

"Are you gonna fuck me Jake?" You bat your eyelashes and try to feign innocence but he sees right through it.

"I will but first, we're going to play a little game. Close your eyes." You don't even question him, you just let your eyes flutter shut and await his next words with baited breath. "If you can keep your eyes closed AND keep yourself from touching me, I'll fuck you however you want me to... but if you can't--" He pauses and you can now feel Josh at your side, brushing some stray hairs behind your ear "--Josh and I will edge until you're crying for us to stop."

"Does that sound good, angel?" Josh whispers against your neck.

You keep it short and simple, whimpering out a yes and then moving to hold your arms against the wall. You're expecting them to touch you but nothing happens instead you hear the door close and Jake's voice right in your ear.

"I can't wait to fucking ruin you."

His words make you want to reach out, thread your fingers through his hair and attack his mouth with your own but you hold fast and keep as still as you can. You squeeze your eyes shut until you see a vibrant array of colors swirling around your eyelids. Jake doesn't say anything else but you can still hear and feel him breathing heavily against your neck. Eventually he rests his head on your shoulder and that's when you can feel it. Every couple of seconds his fist lightly nudges your stomach and its so rhythmic that you can see what he's doing crystal clear in your mind.

"What are you doing, Jakey?" You breathe out, voice at least an octave higher than usual.

"I think you know the answer to that, angel." He hums, breathing growing heavier. He starts to press sloppy kisses to your neck, open mouthed and even just biting you on an offbeat. You start to notice his pace picking up and you long to drop to your knees and help him or even just to look upon his face as he finishes. As soon as the thought passes your mind you feel him pull away.

"Turn around, I can't wait any longer, I need to be inside of you."

You obey and press your face against the glass, probably giving Josh a great view of your tits if he's sitting in the chair that Jake had occupied before. Struggling to keep your eyes closed you let out a grunt of annoyance but it's quickly spun into a moan when Jake pushes into you.

"God, you're making such a fucking mess, you're so wet."

Jake curls his body over yours and starts thrusting into you. You place your palms against the glass and he puts his hands over yours, interlocking your fingers. He's driving into you with such force that in your semi-overstimulated state you already feel close to cumming. You wish you could see that way that Jake looked right now because his moans are deep and filling your ears so pleasantly.

"Please, Jake--" You're not even sure of what you're asking for but he seems to understand your body better than you, snaking his hand down to rub tight circles on your clit. You shake against him, unable to properly hold yourself up.

"Is my pretty angel gonna cum?"

"Mmm, Jake-- Please--" You can barely form a coherent sentence and when Jake withdraws the hand rubbing your clit and when you hear him spit on his fingers before toying with it again you cum around him, right then and there.

"Holy shit, you're gonna--" Jake is promptly cut off by his own orgasm taking hold of him. You can feel him filling you up so deliciously that you squeeze your eyes shut even harder. He keeps pounding into you, riding out his high until he's satisfied. "You can open your eyes now. Are you okay?"

You let yourself acclimatize once you can see again and then when he pulls out you turn around to face him. His cheeks are flushed red from exertion but maybe something else too as he has a sheepish grin on his face.

"I'm great, although I may need some help walking out of here." You both laugh and Josh reenters the room, gathering your clothes for you. "Did you get some good audio?" You ask it innocently but even thinking about putting any of what happened in this room into a song makes your stomach churn with something akin to excitement.

"I'd say so." Jake murmurs into your neck, kissing below your ear.

Josh hands you your little bundle of clothes and Jake steps away from you after placing one final kiss to your cheek. Once redressed you all decide to call it a day and head back. The car ride is quiet this time but the tension is gone, now replaced with a shared tiredness between the three of you.

When the car pulls into the driveway you become greatly aware of your state, you can barely walk and you have lovebites all over your neck. "I think we should have a talk with Sam."

Thank you so much for this request! I had a lot of fun with it! Do we want a part 2???

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[songbirdstyles]

screw my brain (’till it hurts)

summary: you and harry are spies on an assignment to pretend to be a married couple in order to take down a drug trafficking ring. the only problem? you two can’t stand each other.

warnings: smut (18+), hate sex, knifeplay, breathplay (choking), slapping, fingering, phone sex (sort of); enemies to lovers, one bed, fake dating 

song inspo.: death on two legs (dedicated to ...) - queen / back chat - queen / you’re so vain - carly simon

word count: 19.5k 

You can practically feel Harry’s anger simmering beside you, and you’re tired of it.

He’s been acting like a child since you got on the plane, his eyes narrowed and venomous and steam practically blowing out of his ears as though he’s on the verge of throwing a temper tantrum, and you’re sure if looks could kill you’d be dead a million times over again from all the staredowns he’d been trying to initiate. And you’re used to this, for the most part, but it doesn’t make you feel any less annoyed as he huffs beside you, flicking through the file on his lap.

And - look. You don’t like Harry. You can hardly even tolerate him, most of the time, and the only times you manage to be near him without gagging is when you’re on missions. Usually he’s the same way, pushing aside the mutual disdain you’ve shared from day fucking one when there’s goals to be accomplished and targets to take down but he’s just sitting here like an angry log, thumbing noisily through papers as you swipe through your phone.

He’s looking for attention, Mark would tell you - your boss is the epitome of coolness, desperate for you and Harry to get along because of his tendency to force you together on missions - and that is true. You’re just as pissed as he is and you aren’t making a show of it. No, he’s an attention seeking crybaby, and you won’t give him what he craves. Won’t even look at him.

The plane dips a bit, then, and your stomach lurches, grabbing at the armrest in between you two where Harry’s elbow rests, and he jerks it into his side as though you’d burned him. You scoff, then, the pretense of faking casualness abandoned as fast as you’d stuck to it, and you can sense him rolling his eyes at the noise.

“For Fuck’s sake,” you huff, leaning to the side so you can stare at him as you roll your eyes pointedly, and he mimics the movement. “What are you so whiny about?”

“M’not whiny,” Harry insists in a tone that’s strikingly similar to the whine he claims he doesn’t have, and you sigh before reaching over, snatching the file off of his lap. “Hey - I was readin’ that!”

“Really?” you inquire, shifting so your back is to the man next to you and he can’t read the words on the page you’re squinting at. “Could’ve fooled me. Thought you were just sitting there huffing and rolling your eyes like a baby.” After a moment where he doesn’t respond, you risk a glance backwards and are met with the back of his head full of curls as he stares out the window at the passing sunset as you whiz through the sky. “What’s got your knickers in a twist, hmm? Did Mark not put enough into the budget for hair gel and dirty shoes?”

“Oh, shut up,” he says in a wildly mature way of response, and you can hardly resist the urge to smirk at it. “F’the record, m’mad that I have t’do another mission with you.”

You nod, trailing your finger along the line of words detailing aspects about the target you know you’ll have to utilize later - he has four cats. He and his wife are on the brink of divorce. He has two daughters, and he doesn’t speak to either of them. His name is Vincent Carfield, and, boy, does he sound like a real catch - you’re so focused on reading about him that you hardly register that Harry’s started speaking again.

“Wish Mark would realize m’good enough to do shit like this on my own. Don’t need you t’come around an’ pretend to be my - my girlfriend. S’stupid.”

“Well, if you were good enough, I would be at home with cucumbers on my eyes right now instead of reading about the leader of a drug trafficking ring -”

“God, you’re a bitch -”

“And you’re an asshole -”

“Fuck you - m’calling Mark.”

You snort, leaning back in your seat as Harry fumbles in his bag at his feet for his tablet, and he shakily sets it up on his lap, tapping through the screen until he gets to the FaceTime app. “Real mature, Har, going to tattle to Mark.”

“God, not everything’s about you, narcissist - half hour out, need a debrief.”

You crane your neck to lean in front of him and look out the window, and - sure enough - you can already tell that you’re getting closer, plane dipping slowly lower and it wouldn’t be perceptible to you if he hadn’t told you. Harry’s always been a tad bit more observant than you, though you wouldn’t confess that to him if your life depended on it.

Mark answers Harry’s call within mere seconds - he’s always on high alert when you guys call, especially when you’re off on missions together - part of you suspects he’s always waiting for a call that one of you killed the other. “Hello, lovebirds,” he chirps, the pure image of relaxation as he adjusts his tie, shifting in his seat - you and Harry both roll your eyes at his nickname for the pair of you. “Surprised to see you haven’t clawed each other’s eyes out.” “Wish I did,” you mutter beneath your breath, and Harry glares at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Anyway,” Mark says, and you know he heard what you said judging from the ghost of a smile on his pale face, but he brushes past it. “When you land, you’ll have around an hour to get settled into the hotel before dinner. I’ve sent you the address to the restaurant - the target is eating there with his wife, most likely to discuss their divorce, so he’ll be feeling vulnerable and insecure -” “And that’s where I come in,” you finish, trailing your nail across the fine printed page which holds the plans the three had deliberated over for two weeks prior - compared to most of your missions it was an extraordinarily short amount of time to plan but none of you could foresee this one going anything other than disgustingly easy. If you pull through, you could be home by the end of the weekend.

“And that’s where you come in,” Mark affirms, thick rimmed glasses mirroring the image of you and Harry that he’s seeing on his screen. “Find any way to touch him - pretend to trip - and plant the audio tracker on his jacket.” You nod, and Harry drops his head against the seat with a soft sigh that nearly makes you turn and throttle him but you hold back, fingers tensing as though itching for a throat to grab. “Then you guys go back to the hotel, hold back from slaughtering each other, and listen in - he’s staying at the room next to yours.”

If this situation were occurring a year ago in your first few weeks of working as a spy perhaps you’d marvel at the seeming coincidence of Mark just happening to get you a hotel room right next to your target - but your one-year anniversary working has just come up and, as it so happens, you know he can make just about anything happen by pulling the right strings. And staying in the same hotel, on the same floor, is the perfect talking point for dinner - you’re already storing it in the back of your mind to bring up in conversation when you manage to get the tracker on his jacket -

“ - and, look, guys, I know you don’t particularly like each other,” Mark is saying when your attention snaps back to him, and Harry snorts. It’s the understatement of the century - you almost want to laugh with him. “It’s just really important that you sell yourselves as a couple. I don’t care what you have to do - share a drink or hold hands - but he needs to see you as a couple. All of his mistresses have been seemingly happily married - he’ll be more inclined to get closer with ____ if he sees you’re in a good relationship. Then, Harry, of course, can explore his hotel room - snuff out anything suspicious.”

You nod but Harry seems less convinced - his brow arches as his arms cross over his chest, and you glance over at him with confusion written over your features. “M’confused,” he says, and you raise your eyebrows. “She’s gonna fu - have an affair wit’ him, then?”

God, we fucking talked about this, you want to shout at him, to shake his shoulders until he’s dizzy. If you paid attention while we planned instead of sitting there whining that you don’t go on missions by yourself because nobody goes on missions by themselves unless they’ve been here for nearly 10 years and you’ve barely scraped three -

Mark is more patient. He just shrugs, fingers tapping away at the keyboard connecting to his screen. “Maybe - maybe not. Depends how vulnerable she can get him without resorting to sexual means.”

“Don’t think I’ll have a problem with that,” you can’t resist saying, popping the ‘p’ in problem as you smugly smirk, scratching your nails against the smooth paper you’d been reading as Harry glares at you, seemingly affronted. “Only had to resort to getting down and dirty with a target once - that asshole mob boss - everyone else is just dying to tell me their juicy little secrets. Guess it’s a perk at being good at what you do, right, Har?”

“Oh, you’re such a -”

“Children, children,” Mark interrupts the beginning of Harry’s speech about what a cunt you are, holding up his age-worn palms with mock exasperation as he stares the two of you down. “Stay civil. I’ve just booked your reservation at this Italian restaurant called Fucina’s - it’s for 7, under Mr. and Mrs. James Robinson. Vincent Carfield and his wife have a reservation for 7:30 but have a tendency to arrive early. They requested seating in a more private area, as did I, so you should be able to hear their conversations -”

The conversation rolls on for another few minutes until the pilot announces that you’re landing in ten, and that’s Mark’s cue to sign off - with a fleeting inquiry about any questions the pair of you may have he’s gone, wishing you good luck and making you promise to call him after dinner once you’ve set up the tracker and begun listening to your mark. You don’t suspect you’ll forget to - you and Harry generally can’t be in an enclosed environment together for too long without having overwhelming desires to take each other out, and Mark balances you out. Eases the two of you, calms you down, even when you’re so angry at Harry you want nothing more than to stamp your feet on the ground and scream.

It’s how you feel now, a bit, as Harry shuts his tablet and shoves it back into his bag with a dramatic huff after Mark has signed off. He’s angry about something again, surely relating to you and the mission and how he constantly feels snubbed by Mark but, truthfully, as the plane dips lower and lower to the Earth, you find that you really, really, don’t care.

 ~~

 The hotel room is, for all intents and purposes, fairly large. It’s nicer than a significant portion of the ones you two inhabit on missions and you should be grateful, toeing off your boots in the entrance of the suite, that it has a functioning kitchen and a bathroom with a door that closes and an L shaped couch facing the television (based on the description of the suite Mark had sent), but your mood has been entirely soured by Harry’s sore attitude during the drive from the airport to the hotel.

He drops his suitcase against the carpeted ground of the entrance, and it slams onto the ground so close to your sock-covered toes that you jump back, glaring at him as he pointedly ignores you and descends further into the hotel room, peeking his curly head into the kitchen and the bathroom. You watch him as you rest your suitcase against the wall, nudging his closer to the wall with your foot before following him, already tugging your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans to check for any new texts from your boss when -

“You’ve got t’be fucking kidding me.”

You arch your eyebrows, tilting your phone into your chest as you turn the corner into the main living area. And it’s nice, eyes wandering over the couch that Mark had told you about, and the TV mounted to the wall with a Roku connected to it that you’re sure you’ll take advantage of later tonight. The carpet is soft beneath your feet even through your socks, and the bed is nicely made, pillows fluffy and looking soft -

Bed.

Shit.

What a bastard, Mark is - booking a room with only one bed? And not even telling you two about it? God, you could kill him. You really could, and you will, as soon as you get back to headquarters and see his stupid bald head in person - you’ll throttle him. Or shoot him. Hell, you’ll even stab him.

“You’re taking the couch,” you tell Harry, and before he can protest you take a running start to leap onto the bed, plopping onto your back and tucking your arms beneath your scalp. “Looks real comfy, doesn’t it? The bed - not the couch. Couch looks like it’ll kill your back.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Harry practically snarls, voice all venom and teeth, and he sits at the edge of the bed anyway, hands going up to loosen at the black tie wrapped tight around his neck. “So entitled - I’ll take the fucking bed. Been here longer than you, y’know - just ‘cause y’like t’act like you’re so good -”

“And yet,” you interrupt, bringing your foot up to kick at his side, and he turns around and glares at you, “I’m the one getting put on assignments with you, even though I’ve hardly been here a year. Oh, yeah, what’s that Mark told us? I was put on duty the quickest than anyone else after finishing my assignments?” You screw up your eyes as though trying to fact check yourself before nodding, smiling at the positively hateful expression on your partner’s face. “Guess I am good.”

He opens his mouth to reply and perhaps he assumes better of it - he simply rolls his eyes, pulling his tie off of his neck and dropping it on the ground beside him. For a moment you simply stare at him as he peels his jacket off, littering it on the floor in a similar fashion as his tie, until he’s merely donning a white button down and his black dress pants, hair messy and face light red. 

Sometimes you do that - you watch him - because it’s nice to see him look so peaceful and silent when you’re used to spewing hatred back and forth. You could even be into him if he kept his mouth taped shut and promised to never make a single noise, but he would never comply with it - and you’re sure you’d find a reason to get pissed off at him if he didn’t speak.

You hadn’t realized how long you’d been staring at him until he turns around, and your gazes lock, and you lift your eyebrows.

“Don’t stare at me,” Harry demands, backing up on the bed until his head rests on the pillow beside you - you turn your head to stare at him, affronted. “Told you - m’taking the bed. An’ m’gonna take a nap f’a half hour- already set the timer on m’phone - so you can either take the couch or sit here right beside me.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, glaring down at the man beside you who closes his eyes (rather smugly, you’ll add) and mimics your own previous position, arms tucked beside his head. “You dickhead.”

“Mhm.”

“I’m not moving.”

“Fine by me.”

“I’m gonna nap too -”

“Go ahead -”

“And I stretch out a lot when I sleep.”

“How ever will I handle it?”

You’ve seem to run out of responses, furrowing your eyebrows as Harry’s face settles into an expression of slight comfort and you wonder if he really has gone to bed, resting in the button down shirt and dress pants that he’s always itching to get out of at the end of the day. You’ve had to watch him undress with absolutely no shame in front of your far too many times for comfort, shoved into small hotel rooms together but at least they had two beds - you can hardly control your heart rate as you stare down at him.

(Because you’re angry, of course. Whenever he’s acting like a dumbass your heartbeat quickens to match the pace of a fucking freight train, and that’s nearly every time you’ve ever had to talk to him.)

After a moment you rest back on the bed beside him, head dangerously close to the center of the two pillows where you can feel Harry’s curls, spread upon his pillows, brushing against the sides of your temples. With every feel of his hair against your skin you feel your anger rising, and you exhale softly, pressing your palms to the top of your stomach as you listen to his steady breathing beside you.

He sounds too peaceful.

You wait nearly ten minutes before beginning your plan of attack, not nearly as meticulously planned as the ones you and Harry will employ later - you slowly begin to spread your legs out, feeling your calf brush against his foot, and your arms follow in a similar pattern. They stretch outwards, forearm thrown across his neck, and you can feel his Adam’s apple bobbing against your skin but he doesn’t take the bait - doesn’t even move a muscle, and you can feel his even breathing against your arm.

For a second you wonder if he really is asleep. You’d be surprised.

It’s uncomfortable sleeping on your back and that’s your justification for rolling over onto your stomach, body halfway on top of Harry’s, chest pressed against his and face buried into the pillow beside him so your nose presses into his hair, softly inhaling the fruity shampoo he uses. Your arm lazily throws itself across his torso, leg nudging his until they fall off the bed, and he grunts.

“What th’fuck are y’doing?” Harry questions gruffly, voice just raspy enough to make you consider the very real possibility that he truly had fallen asleep, and you don’t respond. “Get off me, dumbass - tryin’ t’sleep.”

You remain silent. You work on steadying your breathing, faking sleep in the way that you’ve mastered over the past year (and a half, if you count the six months of training you’d done before beginning work) - on one of your earliest missions you’d pretended to be passed out in the back of a work party you’d seduced your way into with a tape recorder taped to your underboob and you’d been able to get enough recording of a conversation between two sleazy old men to support your hypothesis that their paper company was a front for a sex trafficking ring. You suspect this case should be likely the same, albeit easier and likely without the work party, and you’ll breeze through it like nobody’s business if it requires fake sleeping like you’re doing now.

“I know you’re not sleeping,” he correctly deduces, lifting his arm to slam it against your back entirely too hard and you nibble on your bottom lip to keep from making any type of noise at the slight pain the motion brings. “Get off me. Go t’the couch - stop being so stubborn.”

You mumble something incoherent under your breath, digging your face further into your pillow just to hear the way he hisses as you (un)intentionally tug at his hair. You feel his hands dig into your sides and before you can pull off of him he pushes you away with as much force as he can muster, and you’re send tossed to the other end of the bed, grappling at the duvet to stop yourself from slipping over the edge of the bed onto the carpet.

“Fuck,” you hiss, pushing yourself to sit out with your legs stuck straight out in front of you. With a glare directed towards the man opposite you you pull your legs back and push them towards him sharply, kicking him directly in his thigh, and his legs tumble off the bed, forcing him to sit up to maintain his balance. “Take that, dipshit.”

“Can’t you do better than that?” Harry questions, tone so mocking and condescending that you push yourself to his knees just as he rises to stand, the top button of his shirt mercifully coming undone, and you resist the urge to glance at it every so often. “C’mon, babe - if you’re gonna be a bitch -”

You push yourself to stand on top of the covers, taking a leap towards Harry where he stands on the other side of the bed, and your legs hook around his torso, effectively catching him by surprise as his hands immediately land on your waist, tugging you off of him and throwing you onto the bed with an ease that shouldn’t surprise you after this long of knowing him but it still knocks the breath out of you. His body hovers above you, pinning your arms above your head but you won’t have that - hook your legs around the back of his thighs and force him onto his back, throwing your legs over his torso as you mimic the position he’d trapped you in.

“1…” you begin counting tauntingly as you stare down at his face, reaching down to grab his wrists and hold them above his head, watching as he wriggles beneath you, his stomach tensing against your core. “2 … not even gonna put up a fight? What an agent you are -”

He practically growls at that, jerking his hands upward until they slip out of your grasp, nearly whacking you in the chin before he pushes himself up. You’re slammed into the headboard before you can even stop to think of your counterattack, back slamming into the wood as you drop your head forward to ensure you don’t knock your head into the wall, and Harry kneels in front of you with an exasperated, smug smirk, reaching up to press his forearm over your throat.

He’s not pressing hard - not enough to constrict your breathing at all, merely to hold your head in place - and after a second he begins counting just as you had - “1 … 2 … 3.”

You struggle uselessly against him until he reaches the final number, and a satisfied smile etches itself across his face before he pulls away, resting back on his knees to watch you huff before him before he begins crawling off the bed. “An’ I think that means that you, m’lady, have t’take the couch -”

You deliver one final swift kick to the back of Harry’s needs, and he tumbles off of the bed onto the ground with a cry, knees dropping onto the carpet and hands instinctively pressing to the wall he’d nearly slammed his head into. His position becomes one similar to a prayer, dropping his head forward against the wall with a dramatic groan.

“I won,” you tell him, flopping onto your back on the bed with a satisfied hum. “Get on the couch - reckon we still have a good 10 minutes left of our nap.”

Harry pushes himself to his feet in the blink of an eye, turning around with a look on his face that’s so serious you nearly want to double over in laughter, and as he plants his knees on the edge of the bed to resume the fight you’d had earlier, a sudden noise from the wall opposite your bed causes you to hold your palm out to him, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

“Shh!” you hiss, pushing yourself onto your elbows as Harry furrows his eyebrows, craning his neck towards the wall as though it’ll help him hear better. “D’you hear that?”

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, pondering the muffled noises coming from the hotel room next door. “Wha’?” Harry questions after a moment, voice hushed and soft, and you wait a moment before responding.

“The shower -” and, sure enough, just as the thought crosses your mind and the words leave your mouth you know that that’s the noise you’re hearing - the sound of water streaming onto the buff body of Vincent Carfield or perhaps his wife - “what time is it?”

“Uh -” Harry scrambles off the bed, digging through his backpack thrown on the ground until he can pull out his tablet, and the light shines on his face as he turns it on. “6:34.”

“Shit,” you hiss, rolling off the bed and practically darting out to the entrance hall where your suitcase rests against the wall, and you knock it to the ground and unzip it quickly. “Vincent’s already getting ready - we need to be at the restaurant soon. How fast can you get ready?”

“Pretty fast -” by the time Harry’s made his way into the entrance hall to dig through the suitcase he’d attempted to hit you with earlier you’ve peeled off your clothes, dropping them in a pile by your feet until you’re clad in only your bra and a pair of lace panties that leave entirely too little to the imagination, holster holding your knife firm against your thigh, and he freezes. “Christ. Can’t y’get a room f’that?”

“Oh, says the one who strips naked in the middle of the room every single night!” You shake your head, digging through your suitcase until you can find the black dress you’d packed specifically for dinner - it’s folded and mercifully wrinkle free, and you unzip the back to begin stepping into it. “Get ready. I’m going to do my makeup.”

“Make sure y’put a lot on - don’t wanna scare him off -”

“Shut up, Harry!”

 ~~

 Fucina’s is dark and fancy, with hosts dressed in all black and waitresses in a similar fashion. You would almost feel out of place, your arm hooked with Harry’s as you’re led through the main dining room towards the back where your table is, but it’s not any more elegant than any of the other expensive restaurants and galas the pair of you have infiltrated together, and with your tight dress and his suit, you look like exactly the couple to eat and afford a restaurant like this.

“The pasta’s $65,” Harry murmurs, trailing his fingertip down the laminated menu that you can hardly see in the dim light of the restaurant. You squint down at the page, bringing your head closer down to confirm that, yes, the fettuccine truly is that fucking expensive, and - not for the first time - you’re immensely grateful for the headquarters-mandated debit cards that you’ll use to pay for this. “Y’see that? The fettuccine?”

“Yeah,” you nod, though you’re not looking at the menu any longer - your eyes scan the restaurant behind Harry’s back, and of the three other tables in the private section Mark had requested for Mr. and Mrs. James Robinson to be in, none of them are occupied except yours. You and Harry had gotten there ten minutes late, much to Mark’s chagrin when you called him in the taxi, and the Carfields still hadn’t arrived. “Think I’m just gonna get a salad - not too hungry, anyway.”

“Me too.”

The conversation drains into a weird sort of silence - not awkward, and not malicious, either, as all of your silences usually are typically the result of one of you purposely ignoring the other. It’s harder to air out your disdain for each other when you’re supposed to be a couple that’s hopelessly in love in a high class restaurant, and you find that you don’t have much else to talk about with your partner besides discussing either the mission or whatever he’s doing that may be pissing you off at the moment -

He actually looks nice right now. Calm, collected - if you didn’t know better you’d say he looks like a pretty stand-up guy. The kind you’d take home to your mom.

“Why are y’lookin’ at me?” Harry questions, then, glancing up at you, and you internally curse at yourself - you always tend to forget how good he is at identifying someone staring at him. 

“Just thinking about how much I prefer you when you aren’t speaking,” you tell him, voice dropping lower as a host clad in black leads an older couple into the area, sitting them at a table towards the window as Harry rolls his eyes. You lift your water glass to your lips, taking a slow sip as you attempt to inconspicuously decipher if the couple is your target -

“You’re being so obvious,” Harry hisses, voice soft like a breath and yet still retaining all the venom his words always tend to hold. “Is it them?”

“No,” you decide, resting your glass back on your coaster as you slide your chair further into the table, foot accidentally kicking his ankle as you do - his face contorts in both annoyance and pain as he repeats the motion to you. “No - Carfield’s wife is young, isn’t she?”

“27.”

“Yeah.” The wife currently settling into her seat, draping her jacket over the back of her chair, is decidedly not 27 - add 50 years, or so. “Not them. They should be here soon, though.” 

“Good.”

In another moment your waitress has come to take your drink orders - you get a bottle of red wine just to hammer in the notion that you’re a young couple on a date night, even if you really prefer white wine, and you’re sure Harry would rather have a beer, but Mark always tells you to go for red when you’re out to dinner on missions. And - well - you’re not necessarily complaining. Wine is wine.

The wine arrives at your table with two tall glasses and Harry takes it to pour with a faux cheerful grin that has the waitress flushing in the dim light of the room - you tell yourself the tinge of jealousy at her clear adoration for the man currently uncorking the bottle to pour for you is simply because of how in character you are in terms of your fake marriage - and if you were someone else, perhaps you’d get angry at her for clearly flirting with Harry, though he doesn’t seem to notice.

Strange. You’d always taken him as the more observant one of the two of you, but he’s paying no mind to the waitress’s blushed face as he pours wine into your glass and she pulls out her notepad, ready to take your order.

“I’ll have the caesar salad, please, without chicken,” you tell her, giving a tight lipped grin as she scribbles it down onto her page. When Harry’s rested the bottle of wine back on the tablecloth-clad table, you reach over and rest your hand overtop of his, feeling his veins jump beneath your touch. “What about you, honey?”

If he’s confused, he doesn’t look it - just gives you a warm smile that feels entirely wrong coming from him, and the waitress looks positively affronted as he orders a large Mediterannean salad, and when she’s tucked her notebook back into the apron tied around her waist and left the private area, he furrows his eyebrows at you.

“Y’jealous?” Harry inquires, leaning his head in with a mocking grin that makes you roll your eyes, though you make no effort to move your hand from his - it looks better for appearances, anyway. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“In your dreams,” you insist, straightening your posture once a different hostess leads a couple into the room. The man is old, bald head shining in the dim light and donning a suit jacket that clearly hasn’t been tailored to his proportions, and his wife is significantly younger, pale face flushed red and wearing a black dress that looks as though she’s attending a funeral - you suppose she is, to some degree, mourning her marriage, so perhaps it’s fitting.

Harry can tell by the way you straighten up that the new couple sitting at the table behind him is the Carfields. Vincent sits with his back to your table, his wife on the opposite side, and immediately they lean their heads together, surely speaking in hushed tones about - prenuptial agreements and custody of their two girls and the like.

You need to be a couple. Mark had insisted on it, that it’s the most important part for you to get closer to Vincent and make him susceptible to your manipulation - he needs to see you as some sort of forbidden fruit - a married woman with a seemingly happy husband. It’s a control thing for him, and one you need to play into if you want to take his drug ring down.

It would sound like an ambitious goal if you weren’t as confident in yourself and Harry - because even if you hate him, he’s a damn good agent.

Your eyes meet Harry’s across the table, and he raises an eyebrow. You nod, jerking your head up and down before wrapping your manicured fingers around the stem of your wine glass, lifting it up and giving your partner a soft smile - one that he’s rarely on the receiving end of, if you’re being truthful - and you nod your chin towards his glass. Harry follows your lead, lifting his glass and raising it to clink against yours.

“Cheers,” he murmurs, and both of you sip from your glasses before resting them back down on your coasters, the rim of your glass decorated with a generous pink stain from your lipstick. “Happy anniversary, honey.”

His voice raises in volume just a bit, and from the table behind him you can see tears fill Mrs. Carfield’s eyes at the sentiment of a happy couple, and Mr. Carfield’s head tilts to the side though you don’t watch him long enough to see if he’d heard Harry - you simply smile - lift your intertwined hands in the air and to anyone else in your private area you’re sure you simply look the perfect part of a happy couple, celebrating their marriage anniversary. Two years together. Mr. and Mrs. James Robinson have been married for longer than you’ve known (and despised) Harry - surely there’s irony hidden in there, deep enough that you can’t see it.

It’s easier than you’d like to admit to fake a meaningful conversation with Harry. Mark generally gives the pair of you a list of things to talk about so people get the impression that you can tolerate each other but you typically don’t even need it - it’s easy enough to talk about your faux plans for the rest of your marriage.

It’s almost fun, even. Not in a way you’d expect - but it’s funny, talking about whatever the pair of you would imagine married couples would discuss - mortgages and trying for babies and politics - keeping your voices loud enough so the couple behind you can hear but quiet enough so it doesn’t seem intentional.

“D’you think we could turn the guest room into a nursery?” Harry inquires, lips quirking upwards as he lifts his wine to his lips, and you nibble on your bottom lip, pretending to contemplate the question.

“Of course,” you respond faux-thoughtfully, leaning forward just a bit, and his eyes flicker downwards for hardly a second before rising to meet your eyes again. “Or perhaps the office.”

“Yes, that’s a bit bigger,” he says seriously, and you nod, reaching for your glass of wine to take another small sip. It’s bitter and leaves a sour taste on your tongue, but you’re determined to drink the entire thing - it’ll soothe the nerves that you’re sure will arrive when it’s time to plant the bug on Mr. Carfield. You still haven’t figured out how you’ll manage to do it smoothly. “Then perhaps we could save the guest room for the second.”

You nod, hardly able to keep the small smile off your lips, and Harry leans forward, reaching for the stem of his glass - perhaps he miscalculates the force needed to pick up a glass, or maybe he’s beginning to feel the effects of the first glass of wine he’d downed - but his hand knocks into the glass, sending it toppling forward onto your arms, sticky red liquid coating your skin. You jerk your arms back as though he’d burned you, watching him hiss as he reaches for the glass before it can spill any further onto you or the white tablecloth now stained with redness.

You swallow the urge to snap at him - that’s counterproductive, and it’ll blow your cover - so you merely inhale, willing the anger down as you reach for your napkin to begin to mop up the mess. “Should watch what you’re doing, honey -”

“My bad, darling - didn’t mean to -”

And the moment of you beginning to like Harry is gone as fast as it had begun, feeling the simmering anger that’s ever-present beneath your skin already beginning to bubble into existence. He’s looking at you with his eyebrows raised as if this is your fault that he can’t control his own glass, like you’re the nuisance, and your desire to retort snarkily is thwarted only as Vincent Carfield’s head turns just slightly to the side, and you can see him and his wife watching the pair of you in what’s clearly an attempt to be subtle.

You rest your palms on the table as Harry sets his glass back on the coaster, and you can feel the similar waves of annoyance rolling off of him that you’re sure you’re mirroring. “I’m going to go clean myself up,” you tell him. “Excuse me for a moment, sweetheart.”

“Take your time, princess.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes as you push your chair back with a tight lipped smile, standing up and resting your napkin on the table before your seat as you push past the table towards the bathroom you’d passed when your host had lead you to the table.

The restrooms are nicely decorated, with large mirrors and sinks and two singular stalls - entirely too fancy for the thoughts racing through your mind as you lean over the sink, turning the faucet on and shoving your sticky arms beneath the flow of warm water. You’d managed to clean most of the wine with your napkin but you still just need - perhaps just a moment to yourself, without Harry’s eyes piercing into you in a way that makes it impossible to feel like he doesn’t want to throttle you.

And you want to throttle him, too. That’s why your relationship works because it doesn’t, because you hate him as much as he hates you - and yet, while you were drinking wine and messing around and pretending to be a couple you didn’t hate him. Not even a bit -

Until he spilled the wine. It’s a forcible reminder of why you want to shave off all of his hair when he sleeps, sometimes.

The water has gone cold on your skin when you finally shut the faucet off, picking up a small stack of paper towels to dry off your arms. When you’ve chucked your trash in the wicker-basket garbage bin you take a moment to simply stare at yourself in the mirror, black dress hugging your body just enough to leave very little to the imagination - you adjust the fabric to hide the bulge where you have your knife holstered to your thigh. The cut of the dress dips low into your cleavage - and then you recall how Harry’s eyes had briefly dipped downwards when you’d been talking earlier -

A smile twitches at your lips. You’ll have to remember to use that one against him later.

Just before you turn to leave you pause - stick your hand down the front of your dress to the small audio device you’d hidden in your bra. The bug is small, barely the size of your pinky nail, one side sticky enough to hold onto Vincent Carfield’s tan suit jacket -

You hadn’t thought too much about how you’d manage to subtly get the device on him, but there’s no time like the present, is there?

You leave the bathroom, then - nearly run into your waitress as she stares down at her notepad, and you’re not sure if you’re imagining the dirty look she shoots you - and climb the two short steps it takes to get to the private area you’d been seated in. Harry’s back faces you, curls looking particularly messy and head dropped forward to surely stare at his phone, and you can see Vincent leaning in to talk to his wife with narrowed eyes and a hushed tone.

You inhale and begin your walk over to the table, heels clicking on the tiled floor, and Harry’s head tilts to the side as he hears you coming. Vincent’s eyes rise to meet yours just as your heel slides a bit on the floor and you slip forward right beside their table, and the plan falls into action just as you’d planned in the thirty second walk it had taken to get from the bathroom to here.

Vincent’s arm sticks out instinctively to catch you, wrapped around your stomach for just a moment too long as his other hand rests on your back, and you use the opportunity to reach up and grab his shoulder as a way to steady yourself. Harry jerks around in his seat to watch you, and the concern in his eyes almost makes you revive your brief moment of liking him but it’s overpowered by the pride you feel - if he can’t immediately snuff out that the fall was a fraud, then it had clearly looked realistic enough that the Carfields wouldn’t be able to tell, your hand with the bug pressing to his shoulder

Boom. Planted. Your grip presses the bug against the back of his shoulder as he helps you to your feet, and you pretend not to notice the way his eyes trail up your body - his poor wife looks affronted at the clear display of attraction.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” you apologize, trailing your finger down his arm as he drops his hands back to the table. “I’m so clumsy sometimes -”

“No worries,” he assures you, and perhaps he would seem like a kind, well-adjusted man if it weren’t for the way his eyes zero in on your chest like a magnet - Harry shifts in his seat, watching the two of you, and his wife picks up her glass of wine and downs it in one sip. “Always glad to help a pretty girl in need.”

A blush works its way up your cheeks and before you can flirt back - it raises bile in the back of your throat to do it - Harry intervenes, leaning forward with a goddamn award winning smile and absolutely stomping on your chance to ensure some sort of relationship with Mr. Carfield as he says, “Did she wrinkle your suit at all? We’ll get the laundry bill, if she did.”

You grind your teeth together through a smile as Vincent shakes his bald head, sending Harry a warm smile which your partner gladly reciprocates. “It’s fine - are the two of you married?”

Didn’t he hear you two loudly celebrating your anniversary? Perhaps he just needs to confirm it - nothing wrong with it - but, God, he’s forward.

“Yes, we are,” you reply, and you step away from Vincent to walk back to your table - Harry reaches for your hand and pulls you to him, and you suspect the motion would look awkward if done by anyone else but it feels entirely too natural for you to be bothered. “It’s our two year marriage anniversary, actually. That’s why we’re here - on vacation.”

“That’s lovely,” Vincent says, and his smile stretches wider until it makes you uncomfortable to look at so you busy yourself gazing down at Harry’s head as though you’re so smitten you can hardly stand to look away. Then he holds out his hand, and you grab it, letting him shake it vigorously before he moves towards Harry. “It’s Vincent Carfield,” he tells you both, and Harry jumps in to introduce yourselves by your false names. “How long are you here?” “Just th’weekend,” Harry responds, nodding as Vincent does. “We’re staying downtown.”

“Really?” Vincent leans forward, and you lean your body back just a bit - not enough for him to notice, thankfully. “What hotel?”

And Harry gives him the name and Vincent acts as though it’s the wildest coincidence in the world that you both happen to be staying at one of the nicest, most popular hotels in London but you’re glad he overreacts, in a way. It’s important to establish some sort of relation between the two of you and maybe this’ll make Vincent feel like he’s destined to start some sort of affair with you - sure, it’s stupid, but he’s insecure and you’re ‘married’ and that should make him feel a bit more in control, knowing there’s a man waiting for you when you’re with him.

The thought could nearly make you gag. You hope beyond hope that it doesn’t have to get to it - that maybe the two of you could just sit and talk while Harry searches his hotel room - but, judging from the way he’s practically salivating as he stares up at you, you don’t think that’ll be the case.

After another moment of chatter your waitress arrives with a large plate of salad in each hand - you let go of Harry’s hand with one last departing wink to Vincent Carfield as you walk around the table to your seat, pushing your seat into the table just as your salad is placed before you.

Vincent’s wife glares at you - you’d feel bad in any other scenario. But - hey - at least they’re getting divorced already.

You pick up your fork, stabbing into a crouton and a few pieces of iceberg lettuce, and you raise it to your mouth, chewing thoughtfully on your food as Harry mirrors your actions. The two of you eat in silence for a minute or two, and you occasionally lift your wine to take a sip - he hadn’t poured himself a new glass, for which you are extremely grateful - before he leans in, curls flopping around his ears in a way that would be adorable if you didn’t have any sort of niggling annoyance for him still lingering.

“Good job, Mrs. Robinson,” murmurs Harry into a forkful of lettuce before shoving it into his mouth, and you scrunch your nose at his sloppiness.

“It’s what I’m best at,” you respond in earnest, and you relish in the way he rolls his eyes.

 ~~

 Harry takes forever in the shower.

It’s an indisputable fact at this point and one you should have gotten used to but it never fails to amaze you as your fingers type away at the headquarters-issued laptop resting on the carpet in front of you. He’s already been in the bathroom for nearly 20 minutes - you can hear his music playing, old hippie music that’s always blaring from his earbuds on plane and car rides, and steam billows out of the crack in the bottom of the door - and you’ve been picking up where he left up setting up the audio transmitter you’d attached to Vincent Carfield so you can hear what he’s saying, wired earbuds plugged into the computer preparation for when you start the audio.

Harry hadn’t done much at all to set it up - you can’t imagine what he was doing in the hotel room while you were showering if he wasn’t working on the mission, but you’d come out after your shower and hardly anything was done.

They should come up with better technology for this, you think as you drum your fingernails against your laptop, watching the small loading bar inch across the computer screen, transmitting the audio from next door to both your laptop and to Mark, back at headquarters. You’d texted him briefly to ask if he still wanted you to call him and he told you to merely connect the audio to him and there would be no issues - well, that’s fine by you, even if you’d largely counted on him coming between you and Harry when you’ll inevitably want to kill him later tonight.

The water shuts off. You roll your eyes for a good few seconds as you hear the shower curtain being shoved open from inside the bathroom, and you lean further into the computer before you, squinting at the loading bar that hasn’t progressed further since the last time you examined it. You sigh - push yourself off of the floor, arms stretched above your head and the sleeves of your t-shirt slide further down your shoulders. You’re simply donning a worn college shirt you’d gotten when you were in high school and still had dreams of attending a typical university - dreams that, evidently, you had squashed in the years to come - and a pair of sleep shorts, their waist just a tad too big on you and you’ve tugged them up further than they should rest.

It’s decidedly chilly in the hotel. The steam dissipating through the room from Harry’s shower serves as the only way to heat you up, humid air warm on your skin, and you hate the way you almost appreciate him for taking such a piping hot shower - but the thought doesn’t have to linger too long before the bathroom door opens with the force of a fucking bullet and Harry walks out, towel tied around his waist and hanging low on his hips, sopping curls brushed and resting on his shoulders, droplets from the strands rolling down his chest.

Your stomach flips. 

“Christ,” you say as a way of hiding the way your skin suddenly feels like there’s a fire lighting it from the inside out, burning your insides with it. “Don’t have any clothes to put on?”

He rolls his eyes - you swallow thickly, perching yourself on the edge of the bed as he takes a moment to stop and glance at the computer on the ground before turning back to you. “Changing in the bathroom is gross,” and - well, yeah, you have to agree with that. “Y’practically stripped naked in front f’me earlier, y’know.”

“You did it first,” you mutter, pulling your legs to cross beneath you as Harry crosses the room to the full length mirror mounted on the wall, fingers running through his wet curls, and you tear your eyes away from the water dripping onto his bare skin with only mild difficulty. “The audio is loading.”

“I saw that, believe it or not.”

Dick. You bite your tongue, though, and resist the urge to retort that he’d clearly not even started to set up the transmitter while you were showering, because the loading bar has moved nearly to the end of the screen while you’d been conversing with Harry. You climb off the bed, kneeling in front of the computer as Harry looks down at you, and you distinctly feel a drop from his hair land on the top of your head.

“S’done?” he inquires, and you glance up at him to reply but he’s already plopping down next to you, leaning over you to squint at the screen so you get a nice whiff of the hotel soap he’d used and his own distinct scent of shampoo - it’s fruity, mixed with something musky you can’t decipher - maybe tobacco? It’s hard to tell - he smells good. You wonder if he’s noticed how still you’ve gotten but then he pulls away, leaning back on his arm while you clear your throat and lean forward, tapping the mousepad on your laptop a few times in quick succession. “You’ve got it hooked to Mark?”

“‘Course,” you say, if only to regain your composure and keep your pretense of light annoyance with him. “Probably why it’s taking so long.”

“Ah.”

Then he stands, crossing to the entrance hall where his suitcase is opened, clothes folded meticulously because he’s nothing if not a freak for his clothes - out of the corner of your eye you see him pull out a pair of pajama pants and only a pair of pajama pants, and when his head turns to glance back at you, you’re quick to avert your gaze back to the computer -

Which has loaded. Hooray!

“It’s done,” you call to him, a decibel too loud and you’re quick to lower your voice with a small glance to the wall separating you and the Carfields. Earlier, you’d heard their door slam when they got home from dinner and you could make out their faint voices arguing if you focused hard enough - you don’t want them to hear you. “Get changed and we can listen.”

You pick up one of the earbuds connected to the laptop and shove it in your ear, fiddling with the volume buttons until it’s loud enough that you can hear their conversations as Harry ducks back into the bathroom. Clearly the coat with the bug has been folded in such a way that it muffles their voices but hell, it’s a strong bug, and you can still manage to hear them fine enough.

You send a text to Mark, and he confirms he can hear it too - you toss your phone to the side, letting it slide across the carpet as you lean in, adjusting the earbud in your ear.

Vincent’s voice is what you hear first - he’s talking fast, as though he’s in a rush, and your brows furrow.

“The new shipment isn’t set to come in until the first,” he says, tone hushed and soft, and you can’t hear his wife’s response after a moment of listening, and then he continues. “Think, you idiot! She’s trying to milk me for everything I’ve got - everything we’ve worked for -”

For a brief moment you wonder who she is, but after another few moments with no response you figure that he isn’t talking to his wife as you’d expected - he’s on the phone with someone, speaking of his divorce. A business partner - of course. The bathroom door opens, and your eyes shift to Harry’s figure as you hold out the available earbud for him.

Fuck. He’s gonna fucking kill you - not with his hands or with his gun but with those fucking pants, so low on his hips you can see the trail of hair leading beneath the plaid fabric, the tie done loose and casual. He’s not wearing a shirt, tattoos on full display for you to ogle if you had the time to, and you don’t, of course, but it doesn’t stop your eyes from roaming over his torso, throat feeling suddenly dry as he pads over to you on the ground, dropping to his knees beside you.

“Are you checking me out?” Harry questions, a soft smirk dancing on his lips and you roll your eyes, dangling the earbud for him to grab and he finally takes it, placing it in his left ear just as Vincent begins to speak again.

“Never,” you murmur, and if that isn’t the furthest from the truth you could get to you’re not quite sure what is. “Listen to him - I’m going to the bathroom.” And, as you push yourself to stand and walk towards the bathroom, you swear you can hear him murmur slacker beneath his breath but - well - you don’t need to respond to everything he says sometimes.

Truthfully, yes. You did have to pee. And when you’re done with that you turn on the faucet to wash your hands and you stare at the bathroom mirror that’s still damp from the steam of his shower, edges still frosted with the humidity, and it makes your reflection fuzzy as you look at yourself.

What the fuck? Seriously - what the fuck?

There’s a pressure in your lower stomach and a neediness between your thighs that you can only assign to Harry’s freshly-showered, no-shirt-low-pants appearance and it has shame bubbling under your skin mixed with some other feeling you don’t care enough to figure out. You’re feeling very strange things for Harry - things you’ve never felt for him, ever, in the entire year of knowing him - and you’re almost completely positive he doesn’t feel the same, doesn’t have the same desire to bend you over this sink -

Almost. But almost is very close to absolutely positive.

You feel embarrassed for yourself as you glance around the sink. His hairbrush sits on the counter, and there are so many assorted beauty products scattered across the surface that you can’t tell which ones are yours or his.

The lotion is his, you decide. You don’t use unscented lotion - but you reach for it anyway, squirting a dollop onto your palms and rubbing it in for a reason you’re not entirely sure of. When your hands are as soft as they’re going to get you glance at yourself in the mirror again, shirt baggy and long, the ends of your shorts peeking beneath the fabric.

You reach up, pulling the waistband of your shorts up until they aren’t visible beneath the ends of your shirt, exposing your legs until it appears you’re wearing no sleep shorts beneath the shirt. It’s more comfortable like that, anyway, you tell yourself, which isn’t quite true, before pushing the bathroom door open and walking back out to where Harry’s perched on the floor.

He turns to look at you, and you don’t miss the way his eyes crawl up your legs but he’s a bit more subtle about it than you’re sure you were - his bottom lip looks a deeper shade of red than the top and you wonder if he’d been biting it.

You decide not to repeat his retort about checking you out, even if you’re almost entirely sure he was.

“How’s it going?” you inquire, picking up your earbud to begin listening again. The wire connecting the two buds is short and you shift closer to him until the tip of your kneecap brushes his - you’d expected him to jerk away like you’d fucking stepped on him but he doesn’t, surprisingly. “Got anything juicy?”

“Jus’ vague references t’shipments and goods - they’re trying t’trace his call, see who he’s talking to.” You nod, resting your chin on your palm as Vincent drones on about exactly what Harry had said - the only substantial piece of evidence you have pointing to his business being a coverup for a drug trafficking scheme is references to obscene amounts of money he fears losing to his ex-wife that he would’ve never been able to obtain working at a privately-owned tailory. 

For ten minutes Vincent’s phone call remains as a bit of a drag and, truthfully, a rather large waste of time in your opinion - this is stuff you’d already known, including the shipment coming in a week’s time that you know headquarters will be able to intercept - and you’ve just begun to pull out your earbud to retreat to the bathroom once more to brush your teeth when Harry’s arm jerks towards you, fingers wrapping around your wrist and effectively preventing you from rising.

“Jesus hell,” you hiss, dropping back down onto the ground as you shove your earbud back in, “what -?”

But then Vincent is speaking again.

“ - look, buddy,” he says, voice suddenly dropped lower so that Harry reaches out, tapping the volume button a few times until you can hear him properly, “met this girl at dinner tonight, out with Bonnie. Real cute - body like a fuckin’ goddess.”

Your cheeks flush as a small smirk spreads across Harry’s face.

Vincent pauses, clearly awaiting his business partner’s response to this shocking bit of news, and when he speaks again he sounds more annoyed. “Fuckin’ done with Bonnie - I’m a free agent, Jules.”

You snap at Harry, but he’s already fishing for his phone, pulling up the notes app and jotting down the name Jules in a fresh page.

“Can fuck whoever I want to, now, and I swear, you’d die if you saw her.” You can practically picture the scumbag’s face as he says it, all smug and arrogant - as though you’d ever give him the time of a day if you weren’t being fucking paid for it. “Staying at the same hotel too, with her husband.”

Another pause. “Jules, do you think I give a shit about husbands? Remember Mia, in LA? The one married to that big fella? She was all over me.”

Your lips quirk up into a smile even as your stomach continues to churn in disgust, and Harry exhales softly, resting his phone on top of his knee. Clearly, Vincent’s conversation with Jules has turned from fighting for nearly fifteen minutes about shipments and payments to you and it’s entirely less important but it still piques your interest more. The gritty details of their shipping is for Mark to handle back at headquarters - you need to make sure you can distract Vincent long enough for Harry to search his room.

“ - and, man, you should’ve seen the eyes this girl was giving me - and her husband was all over her, too, checkin’ her out but she was still looking at me -”

You nearly choke at that, head whipping to the side to look at Harry, and he’s doing a sufficient job of furrowing his eyebrows and looking entirely confused at Vincent’s words but you don’t believe him for a moment. Checking you out - God, and you had the nerve to feel embarrassed for your desire for him. A month ago you may have been truly annoyed at Vincent’s observation but it only fuels the fire igniting in your core as Harry puts on his pretense of adjusting his earbuds, tips of his ears bright red as he pointedly avoids your gaze, and you bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from grinning.

“I’ll let you go. God, don’t sound so pretentious - didn’t you hook up with that French chick who was married to the boxer? - Yeah, that’s what I thought -”

You’re much less interested in Vincent’s conversations now, pulling your earbud out and standing up, arms stretched high above your head as Harry stays, leaning against the ground with one arm. After a moment, though, Vincent must have ended his phone call - Harry shuts the laptop and pulls his earbud out, standing up, and your gazes meet for a moment.

“Vincent’s an idiot,” he tells you, flush creeping up his neck, and you nod.

“Is he?’

“Y’know he was just saying that so he seemed cool, right?”

“Said what?”

Harry rolls his eyes, then, and you can’t stop the smirk from gracing your lips once more as he crosses across the hotel room, collapsing onto his back onto the bed, and you furrow your eyebrows as you watch him. “Didn’t check you out.”

“I didn’t say you did.” He doesn’t respond, and you sit yourself on the edge of the bed, glaring down at his slumped figure. “You’re not getting the bed.”

“‘Course I am. We fought it out, remember?”

“And we didn’t finish.”

“We absolutely did,” and then he pushes himself to sit up, leaning against the headboard, and it takes more willpower than you possess to keep your eyes from roaming his body but you resist with everything in you - you’ll just about die if he calls you out for checking him out. “I beat you. I had y’against the headboard.”

“That was inconclusive.”

“Get on the couch.”

You narrow your eyes at him and he narrows his right back, staring into his fucking soul because you’ll be damned if you sleep on the couch, even if it makes logistical sense because he is taller than you - but, no. You’re the one who could possibly have to fuck Vincent Carfield in all his glory. You deserve the bed, size be damned.

In the end, you blink first, and come bedtime, you’re nestled on the couch with blankets you’d found in the hotel wardrobe.

You hate Harry.

 ~~

 The couch is extremely uncomfortable. It’s what you’d expected but your back still aches in pain when you wake up at 3 in the fucking morning, blankets dangling off the edge of the cushions you’re bundled on top of, and the pillow your head was resting on has slipped off onto the ground.

The room is pitch black as you groan, the noise purposefully loud, reaching down until your fingers graze the edge of the pillow - but your grip is slow, tired, and as you pick up the pillow to throw it back behind your head it slips from your grasp, dropping onto the ground and bouncing against the carpet until it’s resting a solid six feet from the couch.

Do you really need a pillow? You’re not sure, but you desperately don’t want to have to get up and get it because you know your sleepiness will melt away before you can even think about it, and, more than anything, you desire going back to sleep in order to try and be well rested for tomorrow. 

You reach down and pull your clump of blankets back up over yourself, pulling your knees further against your chest so the entire area of the blankets coats your body. Your head rests against the flat cushion, pillow be damned, and you shift again until your back is rested flat against the cushion as well, legs sticking straight out in front of you, the couch creaking at the movement.

The blankets don’t cover your legs - you push one of them down until they’re situated onto your feet, collectively covering your entire body even if it isn’t necessarily warm. At least they’re blanketed to some degree.

After ten minutes of trying to go back to bed, you pointedly decide that yes, you really do need a pillow, and immediately. Your neck already aches with the uncomfortable position and your ears feel chilly without being pressed into the soft pillow you’d snatched from the bed Harry is currently sleeping on - the bastard. He’d practically suffocated you with his smug gazes before he fell asleep, curled on top of the bed that he’d (rightfully) claimed as his after an arm wrestle, rock paper scissors game, and a half-hearted second attempt at a wrestling match - you’d lost all three.

Whatever. You’d been determined not to sulk at your losses before returning to the couch, trying not to let Harry see you mope but now you wish you’d made a bigger show of your disappointment - perhaps he’d have caved and taken the couch, but you’re sure he’d have stayed firm no matter what.

You slowly push yourself off of the couch, creeping across the room towards where your pillow rests on the ground, and you pick it up, clutching it tight to your chest before returning to the couch. You press it against the cushion, punching it a few times to attempt to soften it before huffing softly, lying yourself back down and tugging your blankets tight back up against you.

The next ten minutes goes by much as the night had previously - you can’t find a good position, turning onto your side and your back and your stomach until you’re hardly sure which way you’re facing, at this point, face buried tight against your pillow. You long for not much more than a soft bed for your back to rest into and you’re sure you’ll be a sore, tired disaster tomorrow when you manage to find Vincent Carfield in the hotel.

You turn to your side, the couch squeaking beneath the shift in your weight, and your body tenses when you hear a soft groan from the lump wrapped in covers on top of the bed, his silhouette illuminated only by the moonlight streaming through the window into the hotel room.

“How much longer are y’gonna move?” Harry grunts, voice low and raspy and you swallow when you hear it - if you close your eyes and listen to him speak, you could almost imagine him sounding like that in a very different scenario - “Keepin’ me up.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” you retort, voice soft and crackling with your yearning to sleep. “If you’d like to take the couch so I stop tossing and turning, I’d much appreciate it.”

He exhales softly, the noise sounding so deep and pornographic it makes your stomach flip. “In your dreams.”

You narrow your eyes as you stare at him, duvet pulled up to his chest and head turned to the side towards you - in the dark you can’t tell if his eyes are shut or if he’s looking at you. For a moment you decide not to say anything, hands crossed over your stomach, and then you shift loudly onto your back, couch creaking, and Harry sighs just as you’d anticipated.

“Please,” he begins, tone low and pleading, and you cut him off before he can continue.

“Not my fault the couch is loud, Har.”

“You’re doin’ it on purpose.”

“Of course I’m not,” you tell him, shifting again so another noise permeates the air of the hotel room. “The couch is just noisy - and uncomfortable.”

There’s a rather pregnant pause after that and you keep your eyes on Harry, watching the way he shifts onto his back, opening up a rather small sliver of space beside him and your heart practically leaps at the sight but you don’t say anything else - simply roll back onto your side, the couch creaking as you do, and he sighs again.

It seems like he sighs a lot.

“If I invite you into my bed,” Harry begins, and a small smile begins tugging your lips upwards even if you want to groan at his usage of the word my, “you’ll promise t’be quiet an’ go t’sleep?”

God, he sounds like your mother. “Yes,” you tell him, clutching the blankets wrapped around your torso. “I promise.”

Another pause. “Then - then y’can come. We can share.”

You try not to look too eager. Masking your emotions is, perhaps, the most important aspect of your job and yet you’re sure you look just as excited as you feel, pushing yourself to your feet with your blankets wrapped around your body, pillow stowed beneath your arm. Your feet pad across the carpet, toes sinking into the plushness of the floor before you make it to the bed, and Harry’s staring up at you, face contorted in a mixture of emotions you can’t decipher.

“Not gonna scooch over, then?” you question, resting your pillow against the bed and hitting it a few times. 

“Y’have room, don’t you?”

And the answer is that you don’t, of course. When you lie yourself down on the bed your legs knock into Harry’s, head so close to his you can feel his curls grazing your face, and the duvet you pull up your chin smells like him, distinctly. His elbow juts into your side - your cold foot rests against his warm one - you don’t think you’ve ever touched him this much outside of a mission.

You drape your clump of blankets over your body, partially resting on top of Harry, smoothing your palms over the fabric with a contented sigh. Your back is thanking you for the switch in sleeping spots and your neck sinks into the pillow and mattress, aches already beginning to alleviate themselves.

“Still need me t’move?” Harry asks, and you shut your eyes, nearly missing the way his eyes lingered on you for just a moment longer than necessary before he rests himself back against the bed.

“No,” you murmur, and there’s another moment of silence before he mumbles his affirmation. Tomorrow you’re sure you’ll regret this - sleeping beside him, even if that’s all you do - feeling him pressed against parts of your body you’d never expected to feel his touch on.

Well, you’d rather deal with the tinge of embarrassment (and pride) than an achy back and lack of sleep - you smile slightly.

 ~~

 The next morning comes entirely too soon for your liking - sunlight peeking through the windows permeates your eyelids until you’re groaning awake, palm pressed against your eyes to block the light and face burying itself back into your pillow.

Your alarm hasn’t gone off yet. If your alarm doesn’t go off, then it’s not morning. Surely you have a few more hours of rest before you need to get up - even a couple more minutes will do -

Just as the thought crosses your mind your phone blares its alarm, the loud noise jolting you up like a bucket of ice water, and, from behind you, Harry grunts into his pillow.

Behind you.

You’re quick to silence your alarm - another nine full minutes of peaceful resting, if you’re lucky, before you’re disturbed again, though you’re sure you won’t get back to bed now that you’ve remembered the events of last night. 

Harry’s arm is heavy, draped over your midsection, the soft surface of his cheek buried intently into the crevice between your neck and shoulder - you can feel his soft breathing against your skin, the air a warm and gentle sensation. One of his legs has wedged itself between yours, thigh pressed entirely too high in the crevice between your thighs, and with every moment that passes you can feel the rise and fall of his bare chest as he snores behind you.

What a fucking sight, you think, sitting up slightly to look down at him. God, if he were awake, you’d tease him until he cries about what a position the pair of you had worked yourselves into but you have the foresight to see how that would backfire on you - technically, you’re just as to blame as he is, even if he’s the bigger spoon right now.

But you’re most decidedly not to blame for the hardness pressing into your lower back, tearing a sleepy groan from Harry’s throat when you shift in your position.

The bastard. He’s hard as a fucking rock from pressing against you while you slept, and a sleepy smirk spreads across your face as you glance down at him. In any other circumstance you think you’d poke him awake just to make him aware of it but there’s a certain air of desire you’re feeling as well that makes you feel - well, not as though you’re in the appropriate position to make fun of him for his boner.

Slowly, you disentangle yourself from his body. His leg drops to the mattress when you swing your own off the edge of the bed, his arm falling until it’s resting in your lap, palm pressed against a certain area that makes your breath hitch, furrowing your eyebrows as you glance down at his hand. There are still fading, pink indents from the rings he takes off every night and before every mission, save for the fake wedding band the two of you often have to don on missions, and you scrunch your nose as you admire it.

Married. You don’t think so. The only time you think of him with anything other than hatred is when he’s asleep, like this - or shirtless.

You stand up, shaking your head to wipe those thoughts from your mind. Harry’s hand drops onto the mattress and you can tell it’s the push he needed into consciousness - you glance back at him to see his eyes cracked open, and they shut when your gazes meet.

“‘Morning,” you tell him, voice louder than you’d intended, and he winces at the noise, shifting onto his back - it’s as though you can see the exact moment he realizes his little problem mixed with the realization that you would also know about it, pressed up against him during the night - his eyes widen ever so slightly, and he pushes himself to lean against the headboard, bundling his duvet onto his lap. 

“Um - g’morning,” Harry replies, voice raspy like it had been the night prior and your stomach turns - you shift on your feet. “Y’goin’ t’the bathroom?”

“You can go first,” you say, and he nods, bringing fists up to rub at his eyes. And then - because you just can’t help pissing him off when you have such a golden opportunity - you add, “Think you might need it a bit more than I do.”

His face reddens.

 ~~

 Earpiece. Knife. Boobs.

You go through the things you need on a mental checklist as you pick up your forkful of scrambled eggs, chewing thoughtfully on the bite. The hotel restaurant is nearly completely full, couples and families packed into the small tables as they feast on their complimentary breakfasts, chatter filling the section. You’ve been sitting eating (truthfully, delicious) breakfast for the better half of an hour, bringing your plate up to the buffet to refill your platter of eggs, fruit, and toast.

Realistically, you would have eaten and left had you not been waiting for a very specific somebody to walk in and catch your eye. You and Harry had plugged back into the bug in Vincent’s room to hear him planning to go down for complimentary breakfast - the only clue you had as to how he wanted to spend his day - and it was the only opportunity you had to find him. Get him out of his room - talking, if possible - so Harry can search it.

It’s such an easy plan, you could practically do it in your sleep.

“Is he there yet?” inquires a crackling voice from your earpiece, disguised as an earring dangling from your lobes.

“No,” you murmur, voice soft as a whisper, and you’re sure he can’t hear your response until he sighs.

“Takin’ his time, isn’t he?”

“Mhm.”

You pick up your glass of orange juice, raising the cup to rouge-stained lips as you take a sip. When you rest it back down on the table, there’s a light red stain on the glass - you wipe it away with a manicured thumb, leaning back in your seat, legs crossed. Your eyes scan the restaurant again, lingering on any newcomers leaning against the wall in case you can pinpoint the man you’re searching for - wide frame, untailored suits, bald head that shines in the artificial light.

(Complimentary breakfast ends at 10, and it’s 9:48. It’s safe to say that you’re getting nervous.)

Your nerves, however, are soothed just a bit when a familiar figure makes his way into the dining hall - tall and haughty, phone pressed to his sweaty head, Vincent Carfield is the image of a stressed businessman, recently divorced and searching for a young, married woman who’d given him eyes last night. His suit is baggy, buttons of the jacket undone and his white button up has sweat stains spreading from the armpits, visible with his arm lifted up to his ear. Instinctively your back straightens, tugging down the top of your lace top so that the top of your cleavage shows - it seems to be your greatest weapon, dealing with a man like Carfield.

You lower your gaze to your phone clutched in your hand but you can still sense exactly the moment his eyes land on you. In your peripheral vision you watch him straighten up, lips moving quickly before his phone is shoved into his pocket, weaving his way between circular tables until he’s standing beside you, and you pretend not to notice the way his eyes never meet yours - his gaze stays on a point eerily similar to your chest.

“Is he there?” Harry questions, and you clear your throat - it’s the symbol you’d decided on to mean yes if you can’t speak.

“Vincent,” you begin, faux smile spreading across your face, and a similar one lands on his features. He reaches for your hand and you give it to him, watching him press chapped, dry lips to the back of your palm, and the urge to scrunch your nose at the feeling is almost overwhelming. “It’s so good to see you.”

“And you,” he says, and you drop your hand back to the tablecloth resting on your table. “Can I sit?”

“Of course,” you reply, and he pulls out the empty seat across from you, resting with a soft grunt. “Breakfast ends in a few minutes, though - you’re welcome to have some of mine, if you’re hungry.”

He obliges, reaching to pull your plate to him, and you watch as he picks up your buttered toast, taking a large bite and smacking his lips as he chews. “I was hoping I’d run into you.”

You raise your eyebrows, leaning forward ever so slightly. “And why is that?”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Vincent tells you, and in your earpiece, Harry snorts at his words - you hope you didn’t jump too hard at his sudden noises in your ear. “I hoped I wasn’t getting the wrong idea at dinner, last night -”

“What idea were you getting?”

“That you were interested in me,” and you tilt your head to the side, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth - if Harry could see the act you’re playing right now, you’d be humiliated. At least he can only hear it. “I saw the eyes you were giving me - not even worried ‘bout your husband seeing?”

“He’s too dense to notice,” you say, a smile tilting your lips up as Harry groans - from his side of the earpiece you can hear bustling mixed with the sound of a door opening, and you assume he’s just entered Vincent’s apartment. He needs at least a half hour, Mark had told you - breakfast ends in nearly five minutes, and you need somewhere else to take Carfield. “You know, Vince - is it okay if I call you Vince?”

“I don’t think he cares what you call him,” mumbles Harry, so quiet you’re sure he’s hardly even intending for you to hear it, “as long as you have your hand down his pants in the next ten minutes.”

Your cheeks flush as Vincent smiles, leaning back in his seat as he finishes off your toast. “Call me whatever you want to,” he tells you, and you can practically hear Harry rolling his eyes through your earpiece.

“Alright, Vince - breakfast is ending in a few minutes, and I desperately hope we can keep talking.” He nods along with your words, leaning in as he pushes his plate to the center of the table - all that’s left is the fruit and the remnants of your eggs. “Do you think we could go up to my room? My husband is off visiting some family members across London - he won’t be home for hours.”

“Hours?”

“Hours,�� you confirm, nodding as you take another sip of your orange juice - this time you don’t wipe the lipstick stain off of your glass, and you watch his eyes follow the mark as you lower the glass back to the table. “Can we go, Vince?”

Clearly he isn’t thinking clearly enough to question how curious it is that you’d had similar feelings for him without much trouble at all - instead, he smiles like a boy on Christmas morning. He practically knocks the table in his rush to stand up - you watch a red blush creep up his neck to his ears as he grabs it, steadying the wobbling surface, and you pretend you hadn’t noticed when he holds his hand out for you. You allow him to take your hand in his and he pulls you to your feet, wrapping a secure arm around your waist, palm stretched across your hips so his fingertips creep up the hem of your lace shirt.

“Are you going to our room?” questions Harry in your ear, and there’s a few scuffling noises on the other end that makes you internally cringe as Vincent begins weaving the pair of you between tables that are now emptying as complimentary breakfast reaches its end. “____? ‘Y’goin’ t’our room?”

You clear your throat once, and Vincent glances over at you with an amused glance on his face as the two of you make your way out of the restaurant. “Are you okay, darling?”

The pet name makes you cringe internally and you give him a soft smile as you approach the hallway full of elevators, available to take you to any of the available thirteen residential floors of the hotel - Vincent presses the button to go up, and you wait for the doors to open. “I’m great.”

“Make sure he doesn’t want to stop in his room,” Harry mutters, and you swallow, your smile not faltering. You want to tell Harry to make sure he’s completely quiet in his endeavors in Vincent’s room but you’re sure he already knows - you can’t risk Vincent hearing a strange noise while you’re attempting to distract him.

The elevator doors open, and Vincent pulls you inside with a grip on your waist like a vise. He glances at the array of buttons available to press, and looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s floor 13,” you tell him, and he smiles, pressing the button until it glows.

“Floor 13? That’s where I’m staying, too,” he says, and you nod in mock-surprise -

“What a surprise,” Harry snorts in your ear, and you can’t stop the smirk from spreading across your face.

 ~~

 There’s a thick thigh pressed between both of yours, sweaty palms slid beneath your lace top, and you don’t think you’ve ever found a man’s touch less desirable in your  life - and, for whoever may be keeping a record, this job has required you to get up close and personal with more skeevy men that you’d expected when you’d applied.

The only thing keeping a blissed out look on your face is your focus on the soft noises coming from the other end of your earpiece as Vincent lands wet, open-mouthed kisses to your throat, tongue laving over your skin - hearing Harry’s occasional quiet breathing and muffled noises as he searches the hotel room next to yours makes this entirely worth it.

Against your throat, Vincent moans, and the noise is throaty and loud - you can hear Harry stifling a laugh directly into your ear, and the noise sends a chill rolling up your spine. Clearly, Vincent thinks your involuntary movement was for him - his hands grasp on your tits entirely too hard to be pleasurable and you bite back the urge to tell him so. “Such a dirty girl,” he tells you.

You rest your head back against the wall he has you pressed against with a moan that sounds entirely fake from your throat. You can almost imagine how Harry’s going to make fun of this when he sees you next, and your stomach turns when you think about it for a reason you can’t quite decipher. “Fuck,” you say, forcing your voice to a near whine, and you swear you can hear Harry’s voice hitch through your piece but you’re not sure. “Feels - so good.”

The lie sounds natural off of your lips as Vincent’s knee jabs into your clit - the pressure is a pain rather than a pleasure and your breath hitches as you try not to cry out. He chuckles against your skin, clearly taking your soft sign of pain as an emblem of pleasure, and you shut your eyes as his teeth graze the veins in your neck.

“No way,” breathes Harry, and your ears perk up - had he found something in Vincent’s room? “S’he actually good at that?”

You want to snort at that. Of course he isn’t good but the thought of Harry listening spurs you on more than it should - you roll your hips against Vincent’s thigh with a soft moan, higher pitched than your last one, and the man on the other end of your earpiece exhales.

“That sounded fake,” Harry says, voice soft and light, and you want to slam your head into the wall so he knows that he’s starting to piss you off from next door. “So he’s not makin’ y’feel good?”

You practically freeze. If Vincent wasn’t tugging your shirt up to expose your tits to the cold air of your hotel room, you’re sure you would have forgotten where you were completely. Those words from Harry’s mouth mixed with an edge of venom isn’t what you’d expected him to say at all - on the contrary, you’d think he was fucking with you, trying to work you up to embarrass you if you couldn’t hear his little moans that he’s clearly trying to silence.

Is he worked up? Because you can work with that.

You drop your head back to whack against the wall with a loud moan as Vincent’s clammy lips press to the fabric of your bra. Your hand goes up to press to the back of his bald head, fingernails scratching against his sweaty scalp and you wish - not for the first time - that you were feeling thick, chocolate-toned curls beneath your fingers instead, tugging on them as his tongue lavished you. Though, in your mind, it’s more teeth and grit and anger because you’re sure you’d find a way to be angry with Harry even if his mouth were on your tits - it’s one of your special skills - in every fantasy you’ve had of your partner it’s violent and harsh.

“Fuck,” grunts a voice from your earpiece, and hardly a moment later Vincent groans a similar noise as you rock your hips against his thigh. Thankfully he seems to be getting a decent amount of pleasure just making out with your boobs like a teenage boy and - maybe, if Harry is quick enough in his search of his hotel room - you won’t have to fuck him at all. It’ll be a Christmas miracle (a month early, but a miracle nonetheless.) “Are y’fuckin’ him?”

You whimper, Harry’s voice shooting from your ear directly down to your cunt and your clit and you feel wetness soaking your knickers, pressed against Vincent’s thigh though it may as well be the arm of a couch for how it affects you - the only pleasure you get from Vincent’s hard body against yours is the urge to close your eyes and imagine it’s Harry.

“No, you’re not,” says Harry, and there’s a soft clatter in your earpiece - surely he’s dropped something from the room next door and you tense. Surely Vincent hadn’t heard it, teeth still gnashing against your bra, and he seems too distracted to pay attention to it. “M’hard as a fuckin’ rock, ____ - thinkin’ of you, gettin’ off on my voice, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you exhale, and Vincent glances up at you, thick brows furrowed in confusion. You swallow, focusing on giving yourself a satisfied expression, and he turns back to your chest, seemingly convinced of your pleasure. “Yes - making me feel so good.”

Harry groans in your ear, and you wonder, suddenly, if he’s jerking off - if he’s leaning against Vincent Carfield’s bed, hand pumping up and down his cock as he listens to you. Maybe he’s in the bathroom, or leaning against the wall like you are, his breathing picking up as sweat drips down his forehead - 

“Gonna fuck you,” Vincent mumbles against your boobs, and you scrunch your nose. “Want me to fuck you?”

“Just -” you swallow, and Harry snickers in your ear, the soft laugh breathy and groaning. “Just wait, feels so good -”

“Don’t fuck him,” says Harry, and there’s a few more jostling noises on the other end mixed with another soft moan - you have a sudden image of him, digging through Vincent Carfield’s possessions with a firm hand around his cock and you feel the result of that imagery stricken straight down to your clit like a fucking lightning bolt until you’re crying out, and your orgasm is on you so embarrassingly fast you could sob in embarrassment. “I’m almost there -”

You’re not sure if he means he’s almost about to cum or if he’s almost found something to convict Vincent - you’re not entirely sure which interpretation you’d prefer. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you breathe, the words sour on your tongue as Vincent glances up at you with a wicked smile, jolting his thigh further up into your clit, and you furrow your eyebrows at the pain the motion brings. “Fuck, H - Vincent.”

“Y’were gonna say m’name,” Harry hisses, and you squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassment coursing through your veins. You almost fucked everything up. “Cum. Let Vincent think he made y’cum - go ahead - do it.”

And - fuck. Who are you to disobey? You grind your core down on Vincent’s thigh with a throaty cry, and your orgasm rushes over you with an embarrassing waterfall of pleasure and shame. Never have you cum so easily and it wasn’t even Harry’s touch - simply his voice, his groans as he listens to you come undone - and, in the end, the only thing to pull you from your high is Vincent’s eyes boring into yours, eyebrows raised and lips parted as he pulls his face from your chest with a most satisfied expression on his face.

You want to smack it off of him - if you hadn’t already cum, that look would’ve stopped you in your tracks. As it is, it slows the aftershocks of your release into dull nothingness while Harry moans in your earpiece, his noises a mere backdrop to the sudden growing sounds of scuffling and jostling, and his sharp gasp is loud enough for Vincent’s head to snap up.

“Did you hear that?” Vincent questions - Harry curses into your earpiece.

“I found something,” Harry tells you, voice dropped to a low whisper. “I found - s’under his mattress - m’calling Mark!”

A small smile spreads across your face at his words. It’s done. He’s found something worthy enough to convict Vincent Carfield, and that’s enough for you to press your palms to his chest, pushing him away from you so forcefully that he stumbles over the carpet, back slamming into the edge of your bed as he falls to the ground. His expression is so confuddled as he stares up at you that, for a moment, you marvel at his lack of self awareness - in an instant you’re reaching up the hem of your skirt to the knife in its holder strapped to your thigh, and you pull the blade out to point at Vincent Carfield, in your ear a myriad of Harry’s delighted cheers of, “I’ve found it!”

 ~~

 Wrapping up a mission isn’t nearly as speedy as you’d like - there’s debriefs and paperwork to complete once Vincent is done and arrested, phone confiscated along with the drugs found in his hotel room by your partner, and physical evaluations to determine whether you’d been hurt, and a long phone call with Mark where he congratulated the pair of you.

Not only for taking down Vincent Carfield, your boss had said, his voice booming and cheerful, but for making it out without killing each other.

If only he knew.

Your plane is set to leave tomorrow morning at the crack of dawn, and if you were more reasonable perhaps you’d heade Mark’s advice to go straight to sleep and set an alarm for 3 AM but you’ve never been too bright in that regard. You finish your last debrief in the hotel restaurant, Harry working diligently beside you, and it’s at nearly 9 PM that the pair of you pack up your work and begin to head upstairs.

The elevator ride is silent when Harry reaches to press the button for your floor. Your room had been closed for you to visit for the better part of the afternoon until Vincent’s had been properly searched, though Harry had gladly given the authorities everything he’d found without a moment of hesitation. Tiredness creaks at your bones but here - standing beside Harry, feeling his gaze boring into the side of your face - you desire nothing less than to go to sleep.

“Good work, Mr. Robinson,” you tell him, and he raises his eyebrows when you turn your head to look at him. “Fairly easy mission, wasn’t it?”

“For you,” he says, and you arch your eyebrow, frown tugging your lips downwards as the elevator begins to move up. “Gettin’ off on Vincent’s thigh was the hardest part - I had t’search the room.”

For a moment you wonder if he’s kidding and certainly he’s only teasing you but you still roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest as heat creeps up your cheeks. “Didn’t seem too difficult, moaning and crying ‘bout how hard you were. I bet I could’ve found the drugs in half the time it took you -”

“You couldn’t have,” Harry says, and you exhale sharply. 

“‘Course I could -”

“Wasn’t hidden in plain sight like everything you find.”

“So where were they?”

He pauses, and you smile down at your shoes - surely you’ve got him now. “Hidden in his computer,” Harry says, then, and your smile is wiped away in an instant. Shit, you wouldn’t have found them. “Not so smart now, are you?”

“Oh, you dick -”

The elevator doors open to your floor and Harry pushes himself off the wall, stalking out of the elevator and you jump to follow him, picking up the pace to walk beside him as he begins down the hall towards your hotel room. It’s entirely too easy, falling back into an arrangement of bickering with him as though nothing had happened - as though you hadn’t cum with his voice alone, and you’re nearly positive that he had, too.

He stops in front of your hotel door, digging in the pockets of his pants for the room key, and you cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t know why you’re actin’ so high and mighty,” he tells you, voice biting as he shoves the key card into the door’s slot - it beeps red, and he tries again. “As f’you didn’t cream your fucking pants jus’ listenin’ t’my voice.”

“I’m not acting high and mighty,” you retort, praying the burning sensation in your face isn’t visible to him but you doubt you’re that lucky. “You don’t have to be such a douche all the time - and, by the way, you came in your pants, too, didn’t you.”

It’s not a question, and Harry flings the door open, letting you walk in before he follows. In an instant, before you can march into the bedroom area to huff at how pissed he’s getting you - it is what he’s best at - there’s a tight grip on your wrist, turning you around so fast your head spins, and before you can object, Harry has you pressed against the door, hands caging you in on either side of your head.

His face is so close to yours you can smell the alcohol on his breath that he’d had while you two worked, mixed with the scent of his mint toothpaste and his shampoo, curls dropping into your face as he wedges his leg between both of yours, thigh pressed against your cunt. It’s just as Vincent had done but so different, so much better, and it tears a whine out of your throat right off the bat.

Your urge is to lean in, clash your lips together in a fury of tongue and teeth but you don’t want to make the first move - Harry can take the lead and you’ll follow, and that’s more than enough for you. So you simply drop your head back, breathing heavy as you stare into his eyes, nearly cross-eyed to meet his gaze. 

“Fuck you,” you tell him, and the words lack the venom you’d yearned for. It’s filled with more desperation and neediness than you’d anticipated, and you feel your stomach flip-flop at the smirk that spreads across Harry’s face. “Fuck you.”

His hands drop from against your head and for a moment you fear he’s going to pull away, that he’s doing this just to fuck with you but then his hands are on your legs, fingertips dancing up and down your outer thighs, fingering the hem of your skirt, and you jolt under him. “You’re so responsive,” he tells you, and you roll your eyes, dropping your head back against the door. “I love getting y’worked up.”

“Shut up,” you groan, feeling his fingers working your skirt up your legs, and the fabric brushes over the edge of your knife, still fastened to your thigh. 

“Like makin’ y’angry.”

“Shut up,” and finally Harry leans in, mouth slamming against yours until your teeth grind against his and your lips part with a shocked gasp. His tongue slips between your lips, your hands reaching up to bury in his curls and hold his face to yours. His palm slides up your thighs, pushing your skirt up around your waist and your cheeks burn as the cold hotel room air assaults your skin, goosebumps popping up in their wake. You whimper into Harry’s lips and he pulls away, palms smoothing up and down your thighs before you feel his fingers hook against the top of your knife, and he tugs the blade out of your holster.

You watch with wary eyes as Harry brings the blade up to his eyes, examining it with narrowed eyes, his other hand still resting on your thigh, fingertips rubbing circles into your skin harsh enough that you’re sure you’ll find bruises tomorrow in the shape of his hands. Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch him and his eyes turn to yours, smile tugging his lip up.

“Y’look a bit excited, there,” Harry says - an acute observation, because you’re practically creaming your fucking panties. “Like seein’ me with your knife?”

“Yes,” you breathe, and Harry flips the knife in his hands until the blade is just an inch from the spot between both of your eyes, your orbs crossing to see it. “What are you -”

Before you can finish the question Harry presses the knife forward, the sharp edge of the plate pressed to your cheek, and you inhale sharply, swallowing thickly as he increases pressure against your skin. Fuck, this shouldn’t excite you - he’s not half as good as you are with blades - and you’re sure if he keeps going he’s going to slice you either by accident or on purpose, and it disturbs you how much that thought turns you on.

The blade drags down your skin, tracing along your jawline with pressure light enough to feel like a breath and hard enough to catch yours in your throat - Harry’s watching it with darkened eyes, watching as he lowers it down your throat, tracing it along your neck and the veins.

You drop your head back against the door with a thud, feeling the cool metal on your skin, sweaty from being pressed against him and the heat that encompasses your body until it’s all you can feel, and Harry’s just watching, watching the knife run across your skin.

Your eyes, fluttered shut, shoot open when a sudden burning sensation overtakes the top of your chest - you glance down to see Harry pulling the knife away from you, the tip decorated with just a smudge of dark, red liquid that’s mirrored on your collarbone.

“Did you -?”

“Oops,” Harry says as you bring your fingers to the small nick he’d given you, wiping away the drops of blood that spread on your chest. You raise your narrowed eyes to glare at him and you’re trying - trying so hard - to be furious with him, to get angry, to push him away and yell at him - but, fuck, feeling his thumb rub across the cut on your chest only increases the ball of pressure in your lower abdnomen as you look at him.

Your lips clash once more, more intense than before as you whine into his mouth - Harry’s free hand hoists your thigh around his waist, and when his lips move down to bite at your throat, the hand still clutching your knife pulls back before he slams the blade into the door next to you, surely taking a few of your stray hairs. You yelp, jolting your head back as you whip your head to the side to stare at the knife stuck in the door barely an inch from the side of your head, and Harry lifts his head with a smirk.

“You assho -”

Before you can finish Harry’s hand is wrapped around your throat, cutting off your ability to speak and you can’t help but moan at the pressure even if the noise is choked and gasping - Harry grins, moving his other hand down to your hips until he’s helping you to roll against his thigh, clit rubbing against the fabric of his pants. You tighten your thigh’s hold around his waist, pressing his torso closer to yours, and he, in turn, tightens his grasp on your neck.

“Y’like m’hand on your throat, hmm?” Harry questions, voice low and raspy like how it had been in the middle of the night except more, better and intense, and you whimper in affirmation. “Can’t even talk - can’t even say anything.”

When he finally loosens his hold on you, you gasp for air and bring your arm up to wrap around his neck again, fingers scraping through his scalp to tug his lips back to yours. Your other hand drops to the front of his pants, palm smoothing over his bulging erection before your shaky fingers begin tugging his zipper down.

“Can I tell you something?” says Harry, then, as you fumble to undo the button of his pants until you can shove your hand into the fabric, fingernails dragging along his cock through his boxers - his hips jolt into your hands.

“Yes,” you murmur in response, hand jerking up and down his dick and, even through a layer of fabric, he grunts into your lips.

“I didn’t cum,” he says, and you move your head from his, furrowing your eyebrows. “Didn’t cum, even when I heard y’with Vincent -”

“You -?”

“Didn’t wanna cum when I wasn’t buried in your cunt,” and you gasp sharply as his hand on your throat slides down your body until it’s shoved into your panties, cold fingertips dragging along your soaking folds that drip your ambrosia into his grasp. “Even f’you sounded so good, moanin’ for me - almost pathetic -”

You tighten your grip on his hair until he’s crying out, fingertips pinching your clit in your panties and you jerk your hips into his grasp at the sharp punishment. “Don’t call me that -” you moan, trembling hand pulling his boxers down over his cock while he smirks.

“Pathetic -”

“Fuck you, Harry -”

“Whimperin’ like a baby -”

You move your hand from his hair to his face, grip bruising as you grab his chin in your palm. Your fingertips squeeze his cheek as you force his head to stare at you - the lazy, cocky smile that adorns his features makes you want to throttle him, and your fingers flex against his face.

“What?” Harry questions, tone mocking and it fuels the anger in every crevice of your body as you glare at him. “Gonna hit me?”

Yes, you want to say - before you can even open your mouth, though, Harry leans in, teeth nibbling on your earlobe as he exhales, his words low and breathy, “Do it.”

Who are you to disobey him?

You bring your hand back and smack it down on his cheek with a satisfying slap that reverberates through your hotel room. His head is slapped to the side, exposing his side profile to you, and you smooth your palm over the red mark already blooming on his cheek in the shape of your handprint.

“You like to be hit, do you?” you inquire - for a moment, just a second, you feel some semblance of control over the situation, wrapping your fist around his cock once you’ve pulled his boxers down over his length. He hisses, dropping his head back, lips parted in a silent cry when your thumb sweeps over the weeping tip of his cock, precum dripping down his member. “Never would’ve guessed.”

And you do it again, bringing your hand up to slap his face and it tugs a louder grunt from his mouth, pressing his body further into yours until all you can feel is him, chests pressed together and cock rubbing against your cunt through the fabric of your lace panties. You bring your hand back to give him another slap but then his fingers are pulling your drenched knickers to the side, bulbous tip of his cock nudging through your folds for only a split second before he pushes himself inside of you, sheathing the entirety of his length until he bottoms out, balls pressed tight against your skin.

You can’t help but sob out. It’s, really, not your fault - you can tell how it spurs him on, but before he can keep fucking you like how you’ve dreamt of he’s pulling out completely, taking a half a step away from you, cock tall and leaking. The emptiness you feel is overwhelming, even if you’d only had him in you for a few seconds at best, and objections immediately rise in your throat.

“What the fu -?”

Then he’s grabbing your throat, using his grip as leverage to force you around, cheek smushed against the wooden door frame and back pressed to his chest. His palms smooth up and down the globes of your ass, pulling the cheeks apart until the pressure burns and you throw your head back with a cry. Then he pulls his hand back - lands it back against your ass with a cracking slap that makes you jump against him - and he doesn’t give you a second to beg him to fucking do it again before he’s sliding his cock back into your folds.

“Fuck,” he practically shouts, the noise crackling and broken with arousal practically dripping from the syllable, and you drop your forehead against the door with a cry. “Fuck, so tight - knew y’would be -”

“Move, please,” you beg, tone sobbing and desperate, and Harry obliges without another second to spare - pulls out and thrusts back in, pace brutal and desperate right off the bat until you’re quivering, legs trembling when he’s only been going for a half a minute.

Oh my god. Holy fuck, it feels so good, better than you could’ve ever pictured it, his hand smoothing over your ass before landing periodic slaps to the plump skin - his hand landing on you hardly overpowers the sound of his hips smacking against your ass, filling you until you’re crying for it before leaving you empty and diving back in. You can’t do much else other than stand there on quivering legs that feel incapable of handling your weight and take it, pushing your hips back into his with every thrust until you’ve worked yourselves into a rhythm that makes your fucking head spin.

“Harry -” you gasp as he grabs hold of your hips, pulling them upwards until his cock is slamming into the sweet spot buried inside of your walls that makes you sob out, cheek slamming into the door over and over with the force of his pounding. “Harry - God -”

“What?” he practically hisses, the word full of desire and contempt in the most delicious way possible, and your knees would give out if not for his bruising grip on your hips, keeping you flush against him. 

“Har - choke me, please, want you to - to choke me -”

He stutters a groan at that, moving one of his hands from your hips - he delivers one hard smack to your ass before he’s trailing his hand up your back and around to the front of your throat, squeezing your neck once experimentally just to hear the way you moan at it before he tightens his grasp. Your resulting whimper is caught in your throat, pressing your palms to the door you’re leant up against as Harry just fucking laughs from behind you, thrusting himself into you like he was fucking born for it.

“You’re fuckin’ filthy,” Harry says, then, and he almost sounds in awe as he squeezes your throat tighter, tight enough that your vision goes fuzzy and your head feels light. “So filthy - knew y’would be - an’ so - so - fuckin’ - tight -”

With every word he punctuates his meaning with a particularly hard thrust into your cunt, and the hand on your hip slithers around your body until he’s pressing two fingertips to your clit, rubbing shaking, hard circles against the sensitive nub that has you jolting, arms shaking as you attempt to keep yourself up. “Oh my god,” you practically cry, and the voice sounds far away as he briefly releases his hold on your throat - a firm slap is delivered to the side of your face as you’d given him, the motion forcing your head to the side, and you sob out harder. “Fuck - do it again, please -”

He obeys you, bringing his palm back to slap your cheek again before he wraps his hand back around your throat. “M’gonna cum,” he tells you, words throaty and laced with neediness - you push your hips back against his, a loud, long whine bursting from your throat as his fingers never give up on their assault to your clit. “M’gonna fill y’up - y’want that?”

“Yes!”

“Want me t’fill you up?”

“Yes, Harry, please -!” You come undone around his cock just as his hips stutter to a close - there’s a ball of pleasure that bursts in your core, spreading warmth and euphoria through your body like a wildfire attacks a forest. Your forehead slams against the door with a moan that borders on a scream, nails scratching against the wood as though searching for something to hold onto, to ground yourself, because surely you’re far away - in fucking space - because there’s no way on Earth you could feel this good.

Behind you, Harry’s hand on your clit wraps around your waist, holding your body taut to his as you feel him spurt ribbons of cum inside of you, his release filling you up and it only prolongs yours, aftershocks rolling through you mixed with his warmth spreading through your body. His head drops against the back of yours, breath ruffling the hairs at the back of your neck, and when you finally regain the ability to breathe you’re fucking heaving, gasping for air, the once-simple process labored and desperate.

“Fuck,” Harry groans, and then he pulls out of you - you can feel his cum beginning to trickle down your inner thighs, and that mixed with the sudden emptiness in your cunt makes you exhale a low whine. Your pussy flutters around the sudden air invading it, the loss of a certain appendage filling you up glaringly obvious, and you slump against the door. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, and your knees are shaking when Harry unwraps his arm from around your waist, leaving you to fend for yourself as you try and steady your body. “Fuck.”

You hear, then, Harry walking away - surely stalking deeper into your room, perhaps lying on the bed, kicking off his shoes and beginning to tug off his shirt. You feel sudden embarrassment and heat coursing through your body as you tug the bottom of your skirt down over your ass and the tops of your thighs, walking on shaking legs into the bedroom area of your hotel room -

(Your knife can stay in the door until morning. It is, for all intents and purposes, the least of your priorities when you can’t even think straight.)

Harry’s eyes are on you when you make your way into the bedroom section, leaning up against the doorframe to hide the quivering in your legs, and you hope it looks decently natural but you’re sure it doesn’t, judging by the way his lips tremble upwards as he glances down at the shoe he’s focused on untying.

“I’m gonna shower first,” you tell him. Your throat burns with the energy of speaking after screaming your lungs out and your voice is crackling and raspy - you cough into your elbow, hoping it makes your voice sound a bit less fucked-out than it is, but you’re sure you’re not that lucky.

“Fine by me,” Harry says, kicking his sneakers off onto the ground, and he collapses onto his back onto the bed with a sigh. His pants are still undone and are pushed down his thighs, boxers pulled up over his cock, and you feel - decidedly strange, watching him post-coital, at the way his eyes shut, limbs spreading out over the mattress with a grunt. “M’takin’ the bed, though.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “What -?”

“Y’can hardly walk from how hard I fucked you. I think I deserve it.”

And - well - you can’t quite argue with that logic.

~~

TAGLIST (crossed out urls meant they didn’t show up)

@nineteenfiftyone​ @harryslilkat​ @galacticferns​ @ficrecrry​ @morethanamelodyy​ @hoeeforstyles​ @bunny-munchkin-luvs-music​ @mintchipstyles​ @sstarkme​ @thecitiesintheseas @harry-styles-l​

[machine-gun-casie]

where are you?

synopsis: you feel insecure with colson and he’s having none of it. (itty bitty titty committee!fem!reader)

wc: 4k

warnings: smut (18+), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it and all that), dom/sub undertones, “sir”, soft dom!colson, praise kink, choking kink.

a/n: this is my first ever smut so pls be gentle! i wrote the reader as small chested, but nothing else is described because ik how annoying it can be when small chested reader starts turning into skinny reader, so i hope you enjoy! please tell me what you think and how well i did because this is so nerve  wracking!!! i love you guys!!

“Col, what are you doing?” You whined, crossing your arms over your chest. You were both lying on the couch when he suddenly jumped up and pulled you along with him. 

“Wait a minute.” He giggled as he set up his phone on top of a contraption made of random books he found lying around and two tissue boxes. His front facing camera was open and from what you could tell he was filming on tiktok.

“Oh my god, is that tiktok?” You groaned lightly. Colson had been obsessed with watching tiktoks recently, yet he hadn’t been really into making them. But the last time Casie was over, she taught him how to navigate the app and he was so eager to create. But did he have to be eager right now? You hadn’t had a chance to lie down with him all day.

“Yes,” he replied and walked away from his phone to stand directly in front of you, “now stand like this.” He instructed as he placed his large hands on your waist and positioned you to face him properly, taking your hands in his gingerly and putting them by your side.  

The first few notes left the speakers of his phone and you furrowed your eyebrows as you tried to figure out the name of the song. “Am I supposed to react or something?”

“No no, just wait.” He smiled, incredibly excited for whatever this was. As the music grew louder, Colson came closer and brought his hand up and grabbed the collar of your sweater gently in his palm. He pulled the sweater outwards and leaned forward to look down your shirt.

“Where are you?” He mouthed with the music.

Your jaw dropped as you threw your head back in laughter, your hand instinctively coming up to cover your chest once more. “You motherfucker!”

Colson laughed and pulled you into him by the hem of your sweater, “Come on, you know that was funny.” The audio replayed in the background as the time allotted for the video was used up, leading Colson to let go of you and reach for his phone.

“It was.” You agreed. “Doesn’t make you less of a dick.”

“You know I love your tiny tits, babe.” He mumbled as he fiddled with his phone.

“You better.” You chuckled and went back to the couch, hoping that your blanket was still warm.

“Hey, I’m gonna post this. Is that cool?” He called out to you.

“Go ahead.” You replied as you made yourself comfortable. “That was funny. Is it a trend or something?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “there was another audio that went like ‘to girls with anything smaller than a b cup, I hope you gentlemen have a good day’ or something. I thought that was funnier, but I couldn’t find it.”

“Yeah, tiktok’s search thing is crap.” You rolled your eyes. “Honestly, the most memorable part of the videos on their platform is the audio. You should be able to find things without having everything saved in your favorites.”

“Anything else I should include in my email to tiktok’s team?”

“Yes, tell them to verify me while they’re at it.”

It was only an hour or so later when Colson had to leave for something or other, he had told you about it a few days prior but you couldn’t remember for the life of you. He said that he’d be back before midnight, which was code for ‘you should wait up for me’. It was around ten p.m. when you decided that you should probably freshen up and put something nice on. 

After a quick shower and some of that lotion that Colson loved the smell of, you sat on the damp bathroom counter and pulled out your little makeup bag that you had yet to unpack after your last trip with Colson.

Makeup wasn’t a necessity for nights with your boyfriend, but you knew he loved how roughed up you looked with smeared lipstick and mascara running down your cheeks. So you put on your heaviest mascara that wasn’t waterproof, focusing on your lower lashes, and one of your cheapest lipsticks so it wouldn’t stain no matter how badly it smeared.

You weren’t really thinking of how you would look as you went through your routine, but more of what would happen when Colson got home. So when you opened your lingerie drawer, full of red, black, and bright pink sets all thanks to Colson, you were surprised to be hit by feelings of insecurity and dread.

Considering the fact that your relationship with Colson was almost a year long thus far, you hadn’t felt insecure or uncomfortable with him in so long. Was it really… No. It couldn’t be.

That stupid tiktok. It was getting to you. 

You weren’t sure why. You knew it was a joke, a good one at that. It hadn’t made you uncomfortable at the time. Nor did it now, really. You and Colson have joked about the size of your boobs many times, just like how you joked about how skinny he was or how bad morning breath always was. It was just how your relationship grew to be after you both fully let loose around each other. 

So why was this getting to you? You tried to come to a conclusion as you pulled on one of your favorite sets. As you stared at yourself in the mirror and adjusted the lingerie, you heard the front door open and decided that the time for analyzing your insecurities was not now.

Moments after you settled down on the bed, the door open and revealed Colson in a nice fancy looking suit. He let out a low whistle as he dropped his phone and his keys on the dresser, “Wow. What did I do in this world to deserve this?”

“I think you just got real lucky.” You smirked. “Love the get up, lover boy.”

“Yeah? Balmain for next week’s carpet.” He did a little spin as he walked closer. A fitting with Balmain, that’s right. “How much do you love it?”

“Not enough.” You feigned a frown and cocked your head to the side. “I’d like it off now, please and thank you.”

“Since you used your manners.” He smiled as he shrugged off the white suit jacket, disposing of the shirt and the pants quickly after, leaving him in just his boxers. “You look gorgeous, sweetheart. I’d rip that set off you if I didn’t know how much it costs.”

“I don’t mind,” you purred as he climbed onto the bed next to you, “my man can buy me another.”

“Your man?” Colson raised his eyebrows at you, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned. He pulled you onto his lap, purposefully placing the damp patch on your lace panties against his pulsing erection.

Your hips bucked up at the contact and you hissed. “Yeah- my man.” You leaned forward and placed a soft kiss against his lips, pulling away as soon as he tried to take it further. “He takes care of me so well.”

“How does he take care of you, sweetheart?” Colson asked as he trailed his hands upwards against your thighs, one of them speeding up to your waist while the other stayed on its course. Your boyfriend wasn’t one for teasing, especially when he was as hard as he is now, so you knew where his hand was headed and it wasn’t going to take long.

“He fucks me so-” You gasped as his fingers reached the side of your panties, pushing them aside to stroke you gently. “He fucks me so good.” A moan escaped you as his pointer finger slowly sunk into you, knuckle by knuckle.

“Yeah I do.” Colson grinned as he watched your face contort. “So pretty, baby.” He let his thumb rest against your clit once his finger was fully sheathed inside of you.

“Colson,” you whined as you tried to ride his finger, “move.”

He pouted at you mockingly. “You were being so nice just now with your ‘please and thank you.’ You’re throwing around commands now?”

“Please, please, touch me.” He wasted no time in pumping his finger in and out and using his thumb to circle your clit. You whimpered at the attention, losing yourself to the pleasure. He had barely touched you and you were already desperate. “Another one, Colson. Please?”

“I love it when you use your manners, baby girl. Always so polite.” He smiled and watched you carefully as he pushed in his middle finger with the next thrust. His middle finger being slightly longer in addition to the girth of both fingers had your jaw dropping as your head fell back. “So perfect. Look at you, taking my fingers so well. Think you can take my cock just as good?”

“Yes, yes, please Colson.” You nodded fervently, trying to pull yourself off of his fingers. But he wouldn’t let you, pushing up along with you to keep his hand in place as he tsked at you.

“Not now babygirl, need you to come for me first. I don’t wanna hurt you.” He replied as he brought the hand on your waist up to your face. “Can you come for me?”

You whined as your eyebrows furrowed, eyes screwed shut at this point. “Wanna come on your cock.”

“And you will,” Colson reassured you, letting his hand fall to your neck, his thumb gently stroking the column of your throat, “but you gotta give me one before I can let you. I know you can, sweetheart. You’re always such a good girl for me, always taking care of me. Let me take care of you.” He circled your bud faster as he praised you, pushing his fingers in as deep as he could without hurting you to press up against your g-spot. He watched as you rolled your eyes back as the pleasure hit you and he knew you were close. 

He let his hand trail down your chest and then he pulled the lace covering your right breast down. Colson lowered his head and connected his mouth to your hardened nipple and you groaned as he swirled his tongue around it. You grabbed him roughly by the sides of his head and pulled him into a deep kiss. With your eyes closed you didn’t see Colson’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.

He pulled away and looked at you carefully, realizing that you were on the precipice. “Come for me, Angel.” He breathed heavily against your lips. And like a good girl, you did.

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as you let the pleasure wash over you. Colson smirked as he watched you ride out the high, knowing that he did that to you with only his fingers.

“You really know how to use your hands.” You panted, leaning forward to place your forehead against his. 

“I changed your mind on fingering, didn’t I?” He asked. Colson was right, you used to hate being fingered before you met him. It just felt like prodding fingers and harsh jabs in a place that was far too sensitive for that. He begged and begged to touch you for weeks before you finally agreed, and it was probably one of his proudest moments when he managed to make you come five times with just his fingers that night.

“Ugh, I hate that word.” You chuckled,

“What? Fingering?” Colson asked as he gently pulled his fingers out of you, knowing damn well what word it was. “But I thought you liked getting fingered? I always finger you so good, don’t I?”

“Oh my god, shut up!” You laughed. “You are a man child.”

“A man child who’s great at fingering.” He waggled his eyebrows at you as he brought his digits up to his mouth and sucked them clean. He placed his wet fingers against your cheeks and brought you closer to him, kissing you deeply. You could taste yourself on his tongue and it was intoxicating.

“Fuck me already!” You whined as you broke away from him. You pawed at his boxers to show him how desperate you were. “Please, I need you. Been waiting for you all day.”

“Me too, baby.” Colson huffed, lifting you off his lap and putting you down on the bed to take off his boxers. Once they were halfway across the room, Colson tried to push you down on the bed but you resisted.

“Wanna ride you.” You whispered and watched his eyes light up. 

“Can I take these off first?” He asked, hand coming up to your bra strap, and you nodded. He reached back and unclasped the fabric, watching the straps gently fall down your shoulder. He always loved undressing you, never letting you do it yourself. His hands came up to gently squeeze both your breasts, thumbs rubbing back and forth on your nipples. You slowly reached down to slip off your panties, knowing that Colson would stop you. “Hey, no. Let me.”

He always undressed you, he thought as he pulled your panties down your legs. Why would you attempt something different today? Something wasn’t adding up.

“Lie back.” You whispered as you pushed him down. You crawled up towards him and moved your legs to straddle his hips. “It’s been too long, baby.”

“I fucked you this morning.” Colson chuckled, voice tight as he felt your sopping wet pussy land on his aching dick.

“Like I said,” you sighed nonchalantly, “too long.”

Colson wasn’t one for teasing. You, on the other hand, lived for it. You glided against his length slowly, slicking him up and torturing him at the same time.

“You’re killing me here, sweetheart.” Colson groaned.

“You know it’s my favorite thing to do, my love.” You smiled, leaning down to kiss him. “Gotta remind you who’s in control.”

“Fuck,” he groaned at your words, “you wanna have that talk now? We both know I give you the reins when I feel like it.” He swiftly flipped the two of you over, leaving him hovering over your body. His right hand quickly reached up to circle your throat, applying the slightest bit of pressure. “Now be a good girl and ride my dick like you said you would.”

“Yes sir,” you smiled as you got the exact reaction you were hoping for. He dropped down next to you and helped you back into your previous position, but you stayed hovering over his hips. You grabbed the base of his cock and positioned the tip against your entrance. Slowly lowering yourself, you let go once the tip was firmly in place. You placed both hands against Colson’s heavily inked chest and pushed down the rest of the way.

You both moaned in unison when he bottomed out after what felt like forever. Colson tried to move his hips, but with the slight shake of your head he paused. “Gimme a- gimme a second, Mr. Monster Cock.”

“After all this time, sweetheart?” He smirked.

“You say that every time, Colson.” You laughed as you tried to relax. “Okay.” You nodded as you slowly lifted yourself off his hips, pausing at the tip and then lowering yourself a little faster than before. “Feels bigger every time. You’re not taking those penis enlargement pills, are you?” You knew you were only stroking his ego at this point, but his face was worth it.

“They should probably use me for their ads.” 

“They’d sell out too fast.” You groaned, your eyes fluttering shut. “I should ride you more often.”

“You don’t like it when I’m in control?” He asked, head rolling back and accentuating his adam’s apple. He opened his eyes and placed his palm against your throat again, warning you.

“Love it when you’re in control, baby.” You hummed. “But I gotta say, watching you from this angle is the closest thing I’ve ever seen to heaven.”

“Good answer.” He chuckled, letting his hand slip down to your chest. Before he could even try to hold you, you grabbed his hand and pushed it against the bed, holding it there.

It finally clicked in Colson’s head as he saw the sweater you were wearing earlier that morning hung up behind the door. You had barely let him touch you today after he filmed that stupid tiktok. Oh fuck no, this wasn’t gonna happen on his watch. 

He sat up with you still in his lap and grabbed both of your hands. “What are you doing, y/n?” His tone and the use of your name and not a pet name stopped you in your tracks.

“I’m fucking my boyfriend, what are you doing?” You asked, not understanding what he was on about. 

“You’re not letting me touch you.” You looked down at your hands in his and raised your brows at him. “No,” he paused, placing both your hands in his left one and reaching towards your chest, “you’re not letting me touch you.” He squeezed your left breast causing you to gasp and arch your back. “Every time I get close, you push me away.”

“I’m not-”

“Don’t lie.” He shook his head disappointedly. “You know that video was a joke, right? I can delete it right fucking now if you want me to.”

“Colson, it’s not about that-” You started.

“Then what is it about?” He raised his brows at you. “You’re not letting me enjoy what’s mine.” He pinched your nipple hard and watched as you arched your back again. “You are mine. And I like to enjoy what's mine. These are mine. I like to kiss them,” he leaned down to do just that, “I like to bite them,” he gently nipped against the soft skin of your breast. “And I fucking love marking them.” He sucked a spot right next to your nipple, pulling away only when he was sure it would be dark enough to show. “Don’t stop me from enjoying what’s mine, you understand?”

“Yes sir.” You nodded, wrists still held in his left hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. It wasn’t about the video, I promise.”

“Shh,” he pressed his lips against yours to silence you, “we’ll talk about it later. We’re not having any important conversations when you’re squeezing my dick like that, sweetheart.”

“Like,” you paused to clench your inner walls, “that?”

“Oh fuck!” Colson choked out, thrusting his hips up roughly. “Darling, I think you should let me handle this now.”

“I’m all yours,” you breathed.

As soon as the words left your mouth, Colson let himself go. He didn’t even bother flipping you over, he just took control with you on top. He grabbed you by the hips and simply used you.

You tried to sneak your hand down to give your sweet spot some attention, but Colson’s growl stopped you. “Be patient, baby.”

The thrusts were no longer consistent as his hips stuttered, telling you that he was close. “Colson,” you whined, “please.”

He paused and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he saw how wrecked you looked. Tears leaving black trails of watery mascara down your cheeks, and lipstick smeared to one side, probably because of how he flipped you over that first time. He could see how desperate you were and he wanted to be the solution. He needed to be the solution.

Reaching down slowly, taking his time trailing your body as he went, Colson circled his finger against your clit and began to thrust ever so slowly. It took so much effort to maintain his slow pace, but anything was worth it when it came to you. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He asked as he focused on your blissed out face. “Beautiful and mine. All mine.”

“Yours,” you nodded as you squeezed your eyes shut. “So close, Colson. I’m so-”

“Let go for me, baby.”

With a high pitched moan, you let go. You spasmed on his cock, milking it and making it incredibly difficult for him not to blow his load right then and there.

As you started to wilt against him, you felt him slowly pulling out of you. “But you-”

“Wanna- Oh fuck… Wanna come on your tits.” He groaned, pumping himself as soon as he was out of you. You quickly laid down on the bed and pushed out your chest. He brought his knees to either side of waist and placed the hand that wasn’t working his cock around your throat. “Mine.”

“Yours.” You gasped. With a few more pumps, his head was rolling back and he was painting your chest.

He panted heavily as he came down from his high, eyes still tightly closed. When he finally opened them, he smiled lazily. “Look at you, covered in my load. So pretty, baby.” He reached down and rubbed the seed into your skin and against your nipples. Leaning down, he placed a kiss on your forehead and sagged against you for a moment.

After his breather, he sat back up and headed to the bathroom, tossing a ‘be right back’ over his shoulder. You were left alone in the bedroom for a minute, hearing the water running in the bathroom reminding you that you need to pee.

You weren’t entirely sure where the sudden insecurity came from tonight. Not that you weren’t ever insecure about your body, but never during sex and definitely never with Colson. You sat up on the bed and stared at the open bathroom door where your boyfriend was. He had only ever made you feel loved and gorgeous. Maybe his obvious acknowledgment to your lack of cup size did make you question. Question your worthiness of him. He was obviously well endowed, and most people knew that. You chuckled lightly as you remembered the stupid cock sock.

Maybe it made you feel a little less than, you thought as you walked towards the bathroom. You walked in and let your fingers trail against Colson’s shoulder as you passed him at the sink to do your business.

You watched him as he grabbed a towel and ran it under the warm water. You quickly finished and sat on the bathroom counter in front of him. He slowly wiped away at your chest with the damp cloth, being gentle against the soft skin. 

But here he is. Caring for you. Loving on you. Loving you. You almost laughed out loud at yourself for questioning his love or your worthiness when he was so obviously devoted to you of his own accord. 

“I love you.” You broke the silence.

“I love you, too.” Colson looked up at you, slightly shocked and confused. You had both already said the ‘L-word’ a while ago, but you usually kept the love confessions in dark rooms and not in the harsh bathroom light. “Was I too-”

“No.” You shook your head as he reached for your pack of makeup wipes behind you. “No, you always take care of me so well.”

You went quiet again, before you opened your mouth to speak at the same time that he did. He paused and waited for you to speak, but when you didn’t, he started again.

“If that video bothered you, you should have told me y/n. I’m sorry I made you feel insecure, but next time you gotta tell me before it escalates.” He spoke softly as he pulled a wipe out of the pack and cleaned up your face. “I love you. That includes every part of you.”

“I’m sorry, I promise it wasn’t the stupid video. It was actually really funny.” You chuckled. “I don’t know what hit me. When I was getting ready before you came, I just looked down at my drawer and felt so stupid. I felt like I was pretending to be sexy for you. Like- Like I was convincing myself all this time that this turned you on when there’s no way it could.” He opened his mouth but you looked at him and he paused. “But I know that that isn’t true. And I’m sorry for doing that back there.”

“I swear to god y/n, if you apologize one more time-”

You laughed, placing your hand on his chest. “I’m so- I’m not! I’m not sorry!”

“You aren’t,” he nodded, his eyes meeting yours so that you knew he was being serious, “because you have nothing to be sorry for. And I know that if I apologize again, this is never gonna end. I love you, and you are so sexy, and I am the world’s luckiest man because you’re all mine.”

“Yeah, you are.” You giggled and smiled as he rolled his eyes. 

[captains-simp]

Hi can you write a carol fic where carol and fem!reader are exes but reader is also a villain so she constantly pisses off carol just to get her attention 🥳 happy ending too plz

Girlfriends to enemies to yearning enemies to lovers??? Where has this idea been all my life?

1.5k words

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"She's at it again." Natasha sighed as she watched the TV screen carefully. Carol groaned loudly and hid her face in her hands, not wanting to look up at the screen to see the havoc you had caused.

"Fuck sake, y/n." Tony mumbled but felt a regrettable sense of pride deep down at seeing your latest handy work. Played to perfection. As always.

Stark had been your mentor once. Everything you knew you learnt from him and while he never would have taught you if he knew what you would do with his teachings, he couldn't deny that your skills were unmatched.

You never hurt anyone. Well. You never killed anyone. There was always someone who might have gotten a little battered in an explosion, but it was never your goal to murder. You just wanted a certain blonde's attention.

"Maybe you could-" Steve started but Carol cut him off as she grabbed her jacket from the back of the couch and called out over her shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, I know the drill." She mumbled begrudgingly and left the common room area with a faint glow starting to appear around her.

¤

You swung your legs excitedly as you watched the scene still unfolding beneath you.

The building was still ablazed. Appartments. Shitty shitty appartments. Every one of them had mold growing in the corners, damp in the ceilings, barely functioning heating and questionable water.

The people who lived there couldn't afford to upgrade or even repair their homes and the landlord wouldn't do anything. So you decided to burn it down.

Carefully planned, of course. Most of the preparation had been around securing future homes for those who lived in that shithole. It was a complicated process, especially giving the anonymity of it. But it would be successful. And the landlord? He would be stuck with a bill he should have been paying for a long time, you made sure he couldn't get the ex tenants to pay either.

It was a good day.

You weren't a vigilante as such. Not any more. You had given it a go but you didn't have the tracking or assassination skills of Natasha so you never got any big targets. It wasn't enough. Not when all you wanted was to prove you had the strength to look after yourself and then some. That was what it was all about.

You had worked tirelessly to prove it ever since Carol broke up with you. She had always been fiercely protective. But when insecurities and paranoia started building too high she couldn't shake the distressing thoughts that something could happen to you one day. Something that was caused because you were so close to her. Something she couldn't prevent.

She still loved you. That much you knew. That was what kept you going. You knew Carol wasn't overjoyed at the things you did, there were times you weren't either. But you had to get her back. She was the love of your life and you'd be damned if you gave up what you had the way she had.

It didn't take long for her to arrive. There wasn't anyone else around because while you didn't want to broadcast your location to everyone, it needed to be enough for the Avengers to find you.

"Hey baby!" You grinned up at Carol as she landed infront of you, stoic expression wavering at the enduring name. "How've you been?" You continued in a sing song voice.

"Stop that." She said, not as firmly as she hoped she would sound.

"Rough week?" You asked as you sat down on the ledge and patted the spot next to you. Carol looked around at her surroundings and you rolled your eyes.

"Fine, we'll go somewhere more private." You raised your voice at the last word, hoping whatever camera they had found you on had audio and picked up on what you said. Carol grimaced at the volume but followed you anyway.

"So how is work?" You continued and you strolled down the path next to the blonde.

"I'm not here for a catchup, y/n. But for your information you're making it a pain in my ass." She huffed and you smiled, remembering all the times she ranted about work to you. Now she probably ranted about you to work. Or did she never want to talk about you? Your smile dropped with your stomach at the thought but you quickly recovered.

"So what are you here to do, Captain?" You teased as you got to the bottom of the path and walked a few feet into an old tunnel and stopped to face Carol.

"You need to stop this, y/n." She said firmly. You considered her for a moment.

"Do you think I can look after myself?" You asked seriously.

"Y/n-" Carol sighed.

"Do you?" You continued, wanting to know more than anything. She looked up and considered you too.

It had been a year since she broke up with you, a year that you had changed a lot in. Not just mentally. Your once soft hands were now calloused and slightly red. Your soft smile now held something more to it, something that you had to keep back and locked away. There were scratches and cuts scattered across your body. But really what changed most was that you were alone. There was no one to watch your back anymore.

Despite your efforts to show Carol how strong you were, you were more vulnerable then than you ever had been in your life. Maybe that was why she finally had enough.

"I do. I think you always could." You nodded because yes, that's exactly what you wanted her to understand.

The blonde looked down at her own hands, her eyes flickering to yours every so often. You knew what she wanted. You reached out slowly and gently entwined your rough hands that seemed to still feel so perfect against her own.

"You've really been a pain in my ass, you know that?" She asked and you couldn't help but laugh because that's an understatement.

"So have you!" You exclaimed through a laugh. "You think blowing up buildings is easy?" Carol laughs this time, ready with a come back as always.

"Well for me it's-" You punched her arm before she could finish making her laugh more. God you missed that laugh.

"Cocky as always." You mused and stroked your thumb over the back of her hand. She hummed in agreement, clearly more focused on your movements.

"I'm meant to take you in." She admitted and you weren't quite sure what to do. Yes, you want Carol back. But your goal was always to make her see how capable you were. You had been blinded by the goal and done things she never would have approved on. Carol knew you were strong, but now you might have become someone she can't love. You never thought that far ahead.

"Just...visit me?" You asked hopelessly. She looked up at you and you were taken aback by seeing tears welling in her eyes. You untwined your hands in an instant and reached up to cup her face but felt tears of your own upon seeing her conflicted face.

It was only then that you stopped to realise everything she must had been through in that year apart. The things you put her through.

"I'm sorry." You admitted as tears streamed down your face. "I never meant to- I don't know I thought, well I wasn't thinking." You rambled in shame and Carol brought her hands up to your face too and brought you forward to rest your foreheads together.

"I missed you." She spoke out quietly. "I never stopped missing you, or loving you." She pulled away slightly to look you in the eye and you saw the truth shining back at you.

Then, she brought you closer again, closer so her lips were right next to your own. She stopped to hesitant, wondering if following her heart was the right choice. But when you closed the gap to kiss her she knew it was right. That you could figure things out like you always did.

You kissed her with everything that had built up inside of you for that year apart. The plans, the yearning, the love. All of it. You had waited such a long time to be with her again, unsure if it could even happen, and yet her lips felt as perfect against yours as ever. Like a distance had never grown between you.

Carol pushed you against the tunnel wall as she kissed you back with everything she had. You were everything to her. You always had been and it had never wavered.

When your lips became bruised and breathing became an issue you both pulled away and stood in each other's embrace for you didn't even know how long.

"What now?" You couldn't help but ask.

"We'll figure something out." Carol said as she laced your fingers together again.

"We?" You asked, wanting to pinch yourself to see if it was all real.

"Yes, you and me. Together." You sighed and pulled her closer towards you where you could burry your face in her neck.

"Thank you for giving me a chance." You whispered.

"Thank you for never giving up." Carol whispered back.

[akaashisbabygirl]

a/n: i kinda rushed this fic while having a headache, so i’m on my way to head to bed now because i’ve things to do tomorrow and i don’t want a headache! i hope that you all enjoy and feel free to send me what you thought of this fic!

words: 1622

pairings: musician!semi x female!reader

warnings: vaginal penetration, dumbification, oral (female receiving), fingering, degradation (like twice), multiple positions, semi recording the readers moans, nipple sucking, stomach bulge, restraining of readers hands with his own, reader is on birth control, no condom use, creampie, mentions of oral (male receiving)

it’s not easy to become the lead member of band. in fact, it’s rather difficult. not everyone was going to like his music, or maybe they would like some but dislike the other. semi eita knew this from the very start, yet he still chose this particular career choice to condone. spending the afternoons of volleyball practice playing his guitar, teaching himself and writing sheet music was something eita enjoyed and something he wanted to pursue as a career choice.

that’s where he was now, stuck in the bed by your side, his guitar in hand, papers of failed music littering the floor as he tried to come up with a new song idea. nothing had seemed to be working - nothing yet in fact. note combinations had already been used in his previous songs or had already been taken by other musicians. eita wasn’t someone who wanted to steal music ideas from others, or take their pathway to success. he knew that right now, in this very moment, he wanted to come up with a song that would completely blow everyone away.

and that’s when an idea popped into his head.

a rather sinister idea seeming idea from the expression he wore on his face, yet, at the same time it just seemed so perfect.

“y/n, could you… help me for a second?” he asked, turning himself to face you.

“yeah! of course. what do you want me to help you with?”

eita pushed his items to the floor, crawling over to you. you blushed as you felt the shirtless man pin you down onto the bed underneath you, pinning your hands softly above your head with his own. it was obvious where this situation was escalating, yet, what eita said next had still shocked you.

“can i record your moans? your moans are so beautiful and soft, i think i could write a song using your moans as a reference,” eita explained as his head dipped to take your earlobe softly between his teeth.

“you can!” you consented, trying your best to hide the fact that you were rather excited for this.

“thank you, angel,” eita mumbles, pressing a kiss onto your lips and slowly moving away, grabbing his phone to open up the voice recorder app.

he set everything up nicely before making his way back to you. his greedy hands started to tug on the oversized blue shirt you were wearing, his shirt actually. throwing onto the floor, eita mumbled a quick, “no bra?” before attaching his lips around your nipple, softly sucking on the soft flesh, his fingers tracing over your hip bone. his actions had you bucking your hips higher for him. hands desperately trying to move as he kept both your smaller hands pinned with his one large one.

you bucked your hips up, feeling his knee rest in the middle of your thighs. groaning softly, you bucked your hips up, clothed cunt brushing slightly against his thigh.

“are you wet angel? i bet you’re getting wet by rubbing your slutty cunt on my thigh,” eita mumbled into your ear, causing you to blush slightly.

his hand made its way into your pants, a small gasp leaving your lips as you felt his warm fingers running along your damp panties.

“you’re so wet, i think we need to get these off,” he smirked, tugging your pants down your legs, wet lace panties following next.

you moaned softly at the feeling of his slim finger running against your wet slit. moans elicited from your mouth as eita pushed two fingers into your tight walls. your walls clenched around his fingers, cries of pleasure falling from your soft, pink lips.

the noises and cries of pleasure that semi was recording.

the same noises and cries of pleasure that he was going to use as reference for his new song.

you weren’t lying to say that the thought of recording your moans wasn’t turning you on.

because it was.

eita curled his long digits inside of you, listening to the soft and beautiful noises which escaped your lips. he removed his hand from yours, letting your arms run free. eita pulled his fingers from your cunt, admiring how your slick covered his digits. your hands rushed to his soft silver coloured hair as he moved his face down to meet with your dripping folds, his tongue slowly moving out of his mouth as his large hands held your thighs open for him.

eita smiled, loving the way you shook whenever his tongue made contact with your sweet spot; he knew just how sensitive you are down there, and he planned to use this knowledge to his advantage.

“i’ve only just started, angel. don’t tell me you’re getting close already,” he chuckled against your thighs.

he moved his head, letting his tongue trail against your entrance, in between your folds, and all the way back up to your clit. he gave your clit a gentle kiss, rerunning his tongue in circles around it, but never actually touching your clit, teasing you yet again. it was all in his plan - tease you so much, that eventually you won’t hold back with the beautiful sounds your mouth makes.

eita’s pace was too slow for you, yet, he knew that. he knew that doing this would only make you want more, so he kept teasing.

slowly running his tongue against your folds, kissing your entrance, eita let you feel his warm breath against your clit. his hands were busy, rubbing the skin of your inner thigh softly, keeping them spread far apart. he kept teasing and teasing, making sure that you got to your limit before he actually made you feel good. minutes passed by quickly, and you grew needier and needier. your legs were shaking, and you couldn’t keep yourself from moving your fingers up to toy with your hardened bud, making soft moans fall from your lips, doing anything you possible good to make yourself feel good.

seeing you play with your own nipples gave eita the signal that this was the right time to get serious. he moved his lips up to your clit, gently poking his tongue at it, rubbing it in circles gently as he sucked, and even nibbled a bit. as time went on, his pace spread up, licking faster and faster, his grip on your thighs tightening as you became unable to move your legs anymore.

at this moment, you knew that you were completely under eita’s control. you moaned and gasped, calling out his name over and over again, getting close to your climax. you gripped onto his silver hair, tugging on it, while arching your back and thrusting your hips, your toes curling up and biting your bottom lip. your eyes were shut tight and your mind was hazy. like a bolt of lightning, pleasure spread from your clit throughout your hole body with force, causing you to cry out as you reached your climax.

“e-eita,” you were pushed onto your stomach, his hands spreading your legs once more as he worked to remove his own sweatpants and boxers.

eita restrained your hands behind your back with his own, hands moving to bend you over the bed as he let his cock run along your entrance, collecting your slit.

you gasped as he entered you, feeling eita’s free hand move to your hair, tugging your hair backwards as he thrusted his hips into yours. cries of his name fell from your lips, almost as if it were a chant. tears welled up in your eyes as you moaned. is this what eita wanted to hear? is this what he wanted to use as inspiration for his new song?

how embarrassed would you be, listening at his live convert to know that this song was inspired by noises you made from him fucking you? very embarrassed - yet, the thought of it still turned you on.

being sensitive from your previous climax, you were ready to cum again. you tried holding it back as soon as possible, but the second you felt the tip of his cock hitting your cervix, you had lost all control. you climax again with another cry of his name.

you felt yourself being pushed onto your back once again, his cock entering you again. you felt full. stuffed full by eita’s cock. your hands gripped the sheets as his hand made its way down to your tummy, pressing down lightly on your small body.

“can you feel where my cock sits? my big cock in your tiny cunt,” semi mumbled against your skin.

eita could feel his own climax building up from the way your walls clenched down tightly around him. he loved the way you had become so obedient for him; so good for him. he loved the way your tight cunt was made for him and only time to fuck.

“gonna cum inside your slutty pussy,” he groaned out, his thrusts getting sloppier as he felt you climax around his cock again.

a cry of your name left his lips as he shot his seed inside of you, panting your walls white. eita pulled out of you, watching how your mixed cum dripped from your hole.

“thank you, angel,” he muttered, kissing your forehead.

the next day, eita got to work. he worked well and hard, listening to the audio over and over again, even having you come and suck him off because the sound of your moans had gotten him hard while he worked.

you stood in the crowd with a giant red blush on your face, hearing eita sing and play the music to a song which was inspired by your moans during sex.

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