#get the fuck over yourself and be cool by saying this one easy word: hello! [with enthusiasm]

[blinkpen]

if you see a homeless person a block ahead, and try to duck any possible interaction or eye contact by getting a headstart opening up your phone and then pretending to be so casually engrossed in it by the time you've gotten closer that you just conveniently did not notice the homeless person, (they'll see you're not uncaring, you just didn't notice! you would have acknowledged their existence if you knew they were there, but you didn't, see! phone! plausible deniability baybeee!!!, phew)...

i... hope you are aware, that every single homeless person ever at this point sees right the fuck through that? literally everyone who ignores homeless people uses that trick.

the self-soothing balm for you to feel less guilt, bc you totally avoided making the homeless person feel intentionally ignored? it is a fucking illusion that only exists for you. you didn't avoid that. at all. sorry. you haven't been fooling any of them. not a single damn one. you are no better than anyone else who ignored them that day, which was probably everyone.

pulling the exact same little strategy.

if this sounds like you, well, you're not nearly as slick as you think you are and you need to get the fuck over yourself. yes this applies if you have self esteem issues or social anxiety or whatever, you feeling bad you can't do more to help is not an excuse to go "might as well do what's easy by doing absolutely fucking nothing at all then, or even Actively Choose to do something that only makes it Worse, bc that's even easier"

if this sounds like you, well just go sit in the corner and think

and the next time you see a homeless person

fucking look at them. fucking wave. fucking smile in a way that conveys you acknowledge you are a human looking at another human, even if you cannot help them, they are seen.

fucking say hello. just a single fucking word. you might have been the first person in weeks to have done so.

[ghouljams]

Yes- hi- hello, tis I, the moth that will ram into your window :3

Anyway

My brainrot for Fae!Price is so hhhhhgggnnnn and I've backed myself into a corner by crafting the idea of Witch Darling trying to fluster Price in return for all the times he's done so to her. Like- they're just doing their daily thing and Price pulls out a cigar but Witch just snaps her fingers and lights it for him and he's like "Why'd you do that?" And Witch immediately follows up nonchalantly "Pretty boys shouldn't have to light their own cigars."

And Price is fucking floored

Like- he's had experience with people flirting with him, especially debtors trying to get a better deal when talking to him, but when it's coming from Witch?

GOD DAYUM

Okay back to lurking for me, take care of yourself and drink water if you haven't already. I will find a way I to your house and bring you water if you don't <3

Hi, hi, hello! I am taking care of myself! Had a good birthday and didn't write anything which was very weird but very nice to have a break. I return with Witch and Price because I desperately miss writing for them.

I've had this idea of Witch showing up at the 141's usual bar and causing trouble and this is the perfect ask for it. Here's Witch being well... far too pretty for her own good, and Price being a terribly weak man for her. Witch's dress is based on one from 1964's "What a Way To Go" which has some of the most spectacular textile artistry I've ever seen.

Price's knuckles drag up your back as you lean against the bar to order a drink. You're not used to this many eyes on you, but it's worth it for the single pair of cool blues that study you like they've never seen you before. His fingers hook in the double line of pearls that trail down your spine to your skirt, thumb counting over every one before his fingers reach the sleek silk of your dress.

"Can I buy you a drink?" You ask him, Price's eyes follow his hand where it hovers over your bare skin. More than you think he's ever seen of you. You like throwing him off, it's rather fun seeing him at a loss for words.

"Fuck sweetheart, buy the whole bar for all I care," he presses his hand against you, spreads his fingers wide against the small of your back. Each one a threatening display of his adoration. "What're you doing here?" He can't ignore the stares anymore than you can. A witch in a fae bar, your back exposed, vulnerabilities on display, you can feel the hunger that rolls through the room. You're not as easy a target as they'd all like to think.

"Good looking guys like you shouldn't buy their own drinks, so here I am."

"Here you are," Price breathes, you like the heat in his eyes. It's hard to match him, you aren't exactly flirty. Not by nature at least, and you don't have his easy self assurance. You're confident in yourself, but not quite in the same interpersonal sense. Still, if anything was going to set you up for success it would be Price. His eyes, his touch, there's something to having his attention so fully focused on you. A room full of people and yet you're the only two in it that can touch each other.

You signal the bartender for two of whatever Price drinks, watching him pull a cigar from his pocket in your periphery. You snap your fingers to conjure a flame and hold your hand out to him. The little red flame flickering on your pointer finger dances happily as he takes your hand and holds it to his cigar. You try not to be too flustered when he moves his cigar to extinguish your flame on his tongue. The slick muscle curling around your finger, making a heat coil in your stomach. He settles your hand on his shoulder, forces you to turn on your stool to watch him press his lips to the inside of your arm.

"You almost make me wanna wear a suit," he sounds, hm, it's an admission, but not one that lines up with his actual words. Not a lie, never a lie, a rephrasing of a truth. He almost makes you want to ask.

"You'd look good in a suit," is all you can think to say.

"You look good in white," he responds, the hand on your back tugs you off your seat. You do your best to avoid stepping on his toes as he pulls you to stand, turns your back against the bar, and boxes you in. A physical barrier between you and the open room, Price's strong arms rest on either side of you, his fingers tapping the bar as you stare up at him. You're supposed to be making him flustered. You really have to up your game.

You slide your hand from his shoulder to his chest, feeling the firm muscle there, the slight give of his skin and the tension your touch brings to him. There's a tightness in his jaw when you look up at him, a flinty edge to his eyes as he watches the bartender.

"What're you thinking about pretty boy?" You ask. He blinks, surprised, and looks at you. His eyes trace over you, gaze sliding like magma over your form. You try to keep your breaths even, try not to be affected by him. When he looks at you like that you can't help wanting more of him.

Your fingers slide down his chest to hook in his belt loops, and Price draws a shuddering breath. He cannot talk to you like this. Whatever has gotten into you is bad for his health. Whatever has gotten onto you as well. He takes a long drag of his cigar, tries to keep his eyes off the cling of silk against your chest. Made much more difficult when his smoke takes it upon itself to fall over you, slide down the soft curves of your body so he can feel the shape of you.

What's he thinking about? You, always you. In every position, you.

The bartender sets two whiskey glasses between his hands, behind you. Their eyes rest too long on your exposed shoulders. Price gives them a warning growl, enjoys the way it rips from his throat, the way your fingers tug ever so slightly in response. You tip your head back to see what he's growling at and- God you are just- a tease, that's what you are. The way your neck stretches for him, the way your lips part, your back arches. He tips your head forward again, keeps your pretty little self contained and off the bar.

"Are both of these for me?" He rasps, God he hopes so, could use all the liquor he can get.

"One's mine." Are you keeping your voice low like that because you want to drive him mad? It's working.

"You even like whiskey?" He's never seen you drink, but he would bet you're preferential to something sweeter.

"I can drink it, if that's what you're asking," you twist to grab your glass, and quickly tip its contents into his. Price takes another long drag of his cigar watching you raise the glass to your lips and take a sip. You lower it with a sigh, your lipstick staining the edge. You hold the glass out to him, or up for him, as he exhales.

Oh you are sweet the way you breathe in his smoke.

Price takes the glass from your fingers and keeps his eyes on yours as he takes a drink. He savors the way you watch him, how focused you are even with your eyes lidded. He hands the glass back, and watches you swallow a pull of the amber liquor as he smokes. When you lower the cup from your lips he tips your head back with a gentle finger under your chin, leaning down to hover his mouth over yours and breathe. He feels you pull his smoke into your lungs, feels where it escapes your lips to curl over your cheeks, your jaw, soft magic to make your head spin. His favorite kind.

"You're awfully forward tonight little Witch," he hums, feeling you tilt your head, just barely brush his lips with your own.

"Trying to give you a taste of your own medicine," your honesty always hits him between the ribs, Price smiles, "is it working?"

"Perfectly," he feels your tongue flick against his lip, catching a last hint of whiskey, and his hand wraps around your neck. God what you do to him. "The things I would do for you," he breathes, you're testing his resolve. Lucky he hasn't spun you around and pressed you against this bar. It wouldn't be the first time someone had gotten what they deserved in here.

"Don't you mean to me?" You smile, he can feel the curve of your smile, so tantalizingly close.

"No," he takes a half step closer, feels you press yourself top to toe against him, "I mean on my knees, with my tongue, with my fingers, with my cock, with whatever you asked for. For. You."

You shudder against him so nicely. A valiant effort, he thinks, but how could you ever think you could beat him at his own game?

[tightjeansjavi]

The Rite of Movement | part three

“not an illusion”

A/N: this honestly might be the hottest thing that my sexy little brain has ever cracked up 🥵 a big ole fat smooch and thank you to @itsokbbygrl for letting me scream at her about these two, helping me develop my ideas, betaing, & this beautiful moodboard!!!💗

~word count: 5.2k~

Summary: it’s been one month since your first time filming with your new pornstar partner, Joel Miller.

Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!female reader

Warnings: smut, fluff, light angst,dubious consent (light) due to consumption of drugs, consent is addressed, but due to the circumstances, it is implied, unestablished relationship, two idiots in love, (they just don’t know it yet) mention of the porn industry, unprotected piv, role playing, real intimacy, confession of feelings, oral (male receiving) semi public sex, high sex, creampie, cock warming, cumshots, praise kink (massive) pet names, conversations about controversial topics, mentions of eating, reader has no physical descriptions such as skin color or body type, no use of (y/n) reader is in her 30’s Joel is in his 40’s (unspecified), NSFW, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

It has been exactly one month since you filmed your first video with Joel Miller. One that he chose to keep for yours and his own viewing pleasure, and not to be shared with the rest of the world's prying eyes. A solo shot turned into sensual, passionate, deep fucking. A mind altering experience that neither you or Joel had begun to even grasp what it meant.

He learned that you were better immersed in the mood when the scene started off with just yourself in the view. The anticipation of him joining the scene was palpable, desirable, and there was an obvious shift whenever his presence was detected.

The part of your normal-routined day that you looked forward to the most, above all, was getting to fuck Joel Miller.

The scene you were filming for today was set in Joel’s upstairs bathroom where you would be playing with yourself in the shower while waiting for your businessman husband to return home from a late shift in the office. You were most excited to see Joel all decked out in a proper businessman suit, while he was rather looking forward to seeing you all sudsed up with his body wash while he pumped you full of his come.

It was easy to forget the various cameras set up in the bathroom space when it was just you and Joel–the thick drag of his cock inside of you, stretching, pressing you open, his perfectly styled hair becoming undone and loose as the spray of the showerhead dampened the gel in his curls.

The scene ended with your right thigh hooked around his hip, his face buried against the crook of your neck while you used the cool shower wall for support against your back as he fucked up into you, kissing your cervix over and over again from this angle.

He pressed a sweet kiss to the tip of your nose as he slowly slipped out of your cunt, and his eyes flitted downwards to see his and your come slowly seeping out of your fucked out hole. He called you his baby love. Calling you baby just wasn’t enough for him, he had to combine the two together.

He gently washed between your thighs while you washed his hair, getting the remaining bits of gel residue out from between his salt and pepper streaked curls. He purred in mimicry of his own cat when your nails began to massage his scalp in a circular motion, and he looped his strong arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, and pressed sweet kisses against every bit of skin that was exposed to him.

And the cameras? Well, they were still rolling.

He left you to get dressed in privacy while he gathered up his discarded suit and disappeared through the connecting door to his bedroom.

He moved with a methodical care, catching his boyish grin in his mirror when he tugged a pair of sweats over his damp thighs and hips. He made his way downstairs, saying hello to Artemis, his black cat who was curled up in a little ball on her larger than life bed.

He grabbed two glasses, filling them with fresh water, guzzling down his own before making his way into his garage that was built off the side of the kitchen.

Joel Miller’s garage held history. It was where he filmed his first video for Miller-Co after leaving Brazzers and Los Angeles for good, taking a gamble on himself and a better future. The couch was right where he left it, dust leaving a fine coating over its worn leather, the memories faded with time, but never forgotten.

He grabbed his jar of weed, a rolling tray and papers, bidding the couch a silent farewell and headed back inside, flicking the light off on his way in.

He listened to the familiar sound of your footsteps padding down the staircase from where he was sitting on the cozy family room couch, Artemis now winding herself between his calves, meowing softly as he poured out a dabble of weed onto the metal tray.

He looked over his shoulder, eyes meeting yours just as Artemis trotted over to you, affectionately rubbing herself all over your bare legs.

“Hey, you.” He grinned softly, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Headed out so soon?” He teased, voice rasping as you crouched down to give Artemis the attention that she was seeking.

“Not unless you don’t want me to stay longer?” You teased back, eyes dancing with mischief and rare adoration that only seemed to make an appearance around him. You scratched gently behind Artemis’s ears, before ultimately deciding to carefully scoop her up into your arms and carry her over to the couch.

“Always want you to stay, baby love.” There wasn’t a lick of hesitation in his tone as he patted the spot next to him for you to join. “And I reckon Artemis does, too.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks from his words as you bashfully buried your face into Artemis’s soft black fur and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “Yeah? You think so, Joel?”

He closed up the jar of weed, twisting the cap on and set it down along the coffee table before facing you fully. “I know so, baby.” He winked suggestively as hunched over the coffee table, his bare stomach rolls on full display and you felt the temptation to reach across and caress them.

He begins to carefully break up the little nuggets of weed granules between his thick fingers with a calculated precision that came like second nature. He hums under his breath, a familiar tune to your ears as he looks over at you once more. “So there’s uh—no pressure, of course. But I was gonna roll a joint n’then go sit out on the porch swing out front if you’d like to accompany me?”

“Mr. Miller,” you begin to tease, “is there truly nothing that you can't do?”

He blushes, cheeks transforming into a deep, saturated, rosy color as he clears his throat. “What did I tell ya about callin’ me Mr. Miller?” He scolds playfully, shaking his head and picks up one of the thin rolling papers.

“That it makes you feel old, but dude, you’re gorgeous. Have you ever heard of the term, Zaddy?” You scoot closer to him, your knee bumping his as Artemis proceeds to curl up in your lap, purring softly while you stroke her fur.

“Don’t believe I have, baby love. Somethin’ the kids are sayin’ nowadays?”

“Hey, Alexa?” You ask, the little smart device in the corner coming to life, “what is the definition of the term Zaddy?”

“A Zaddy is a sexually attractive man, especially an older one who is fashionable or charismatic.” Alexa’s voice chimed.

Joel’s blush intensified and he turned his face into his bare shoulder, coughing bashfully with a strained chuckle. “So, what you’re tellin’ me is that you think I’m a Zaddy? Mighty fine compliment comin’ from such a pretty girl.” He peeks over at you, brown eyes soft, eyebrows dancing playfully.

“Joel, baby, you are the literal definition of a Zaddy.” You giggle sweetly, leaning down to press another kiss to Artemis’s head. She’s fallen asleep in your lap, little nose twitching as she dreams. “But to answer your question, I’d love to smoke a joint with you out on the porch swing.”

Oh

“S’date then?” He drawls, eyes casting to the side out of fear of being too forward.

You smile warmly in his direction, heart skipping a beat, thump, thump, thump, at the prospect of this being a date, and getting to spend more time with him. “It’s a date, Miller.”

He preens at your response, lips tugging upwards to form a small grin as he returns to preparing the joint laid out in front of him.

You couldn’t help but watch the way he effortlessly licked the paper, packing the weed granules in and making sure they were nice and snug and tight.

He tucks the freshly rolled joint behind his ear, grabbing a lighter and a blanket off the side of the couch. “She’s out cold, baby love. Y’can leave her on the couch, okay?” He gestures to Artemis snoozing in your lap.

“Okay,” you whisper softly and gently maneuver her balled up fluffy form to the corner of the couch where it’s nice and warm still from where Joel was sitting.

He smiles, offering you his hand and helps you up, tucking his arm around your waist, lips brushing the side of your head and nudging you silently towards the front door. He smells incredible, like eucalyptus, rosemary, and a hint of fresh peppermint. You already want to bury your face into that broad neck of his, inhale his scent, lick and mouth at his pulse point while he stirs beneath your thighs.

“S’beautful evenin’, ain’t it, baby love?” He comments softly, padding over to the porch swing nestled at the back of the porch. The moon is shining, casting your faces in a soft glow. The wood creaks beneath his steps, crickets chirp, an owl hoots his nighttime tune. The Texan air is balmy, humidity clinging to your bare skin, but it’s not an unbearable temperature.

He sinks down along the bench swing, patting the spot beside him and you're quick to join him, adhering yourself to his side like glue. He drapes the light weight blanket across yours and his lap and lets his arm rest alongside the back of the bench, fingertips skating across your bare shoulders, forefinger looping under the strap of your thin tank top. He leans his weight back against the pillows, chains squeaking from the subtle movement.

“It’s a beautiful evening indeed, Joel. Summer nights have always been my favorite.”

He nods, reaching for the joint tucked behind his ear and grasps it between his fingers. He places the unlit end between the pout of his lips, reaching for his lighter in his sweatpants pocket, and lights the joint with ease.

For a moment you find yourself transfixed by the simple action, and the way the spark of orange from the lighter bathes his handsome face in warm light, before it’s casted in darkness once more.

He inhales, lungs expanding, stomach swelling slightly with the motion. The tip of the joint burns a bright orange as he holds the smoke in his mouth for a few seconds and then exhales upwards towards the clear night sky.

You’ve only just now taken notice of the color of the rolling paper; light pink. You feel the hint of a smile lift the corners of your mouth.

He relaxes further against the pillows and takes another deep inhale before removing the joint from between his lips. His arm moves in a languid motion, across the way to where you’re curled up against him.

He places the joint between your lips, eyes adjusting to the low light as he watches you inhale the smoke into your lungs.

“S’my favorite as well, baby love.” He finally replies.

You continue to lazily pass the joint back and forth a few more times, mind beginning to go hazy as your eyelids drooped and that warm, tingly feeling blanketed you like a hug.

“Hey, Joel?” You asked through the comfortable silence, and the nighttime tunes.

“Hmm?” He hummed in response, lolling his head to the side so he could look over at you.

“Do you think,” you giggled softly, trying to gather your weed induced thoughts, “do you think that if vibrators existed back then, you know, like, way back, that women would innately never need a man, thus making women rulers of the world?”

He pursed his lips together, rolling your question over in his mind before he answered, tone raspy, deep, and warm, “Baby love, if vibrators existed back then, women would 1000% rule the world. And I betcha we would have an all female government if that were to be the case. Women jus’—get it, y’know?”

As if this man couldn’t get anymore attractive.

“Well then I think you and I should figure out how to invent time travel just so we can hand deliver them vibrators, and a supply of batteries.” You said animatedly, using your hands to talk and get your point across.

Cute.

“Joel,” you continued, “just think of how many wars we could stop, how many lives could be saved, the earth would be this beautiful, safe place. Women would no longer live in fear for their safety! We could all just exist in harmony. But, if women rule the world, I’d want a man like you ruling by my side.”

“I agree with you, wholeheartedly, I do. I think that if there were more women in power, the world we live in would be a different one. Essentially, we could be like the Barbie movie.” The reference makes you snort a little laugh. “Women and men working together to make the world a better place. Think we gotta push all these old farts outta office, get some fresh, young, faces in there in order for some real change to occur. S’essentially why I strive to make porn for women. It ain’t gonna cause a drastic shift or nothin’, but I believe it makes this society we live in a bit less of a shitty place.” He adds thoughtfully.

“Yes! Like the Barbie movie. God, Greta and Margot and Ryan really knew what they were doing, huh? I’d kiss them all if I could.” You giggled. “Joel, it just takes one person to cause a shift in the chain. You’re teaching both your actors and viewers why consent and intimacy are important and that we should be freely allowed to enjoy our bodies. To you it might seem like it’s small in scale compared to the scope of the whole world, but to people like myself and others, it means so much.” You gush earnestly and his eyes feel glassy, irritated probably from the weed but also the weight of the conversation.

“Y’know I often think it’s so easy for people to not be assholes. I’m so tired of excuses bein’ made for people to be racist, homophobic, transphobic...all of that. To see men encourage other men with ‘locker room’ talk and objectifyin’ women. Tired of people callin’ women and anyone for that matter, a slut just because someone enjoys havin’ sex.” He breathes out, feeling himself getting worked up at the realization that the world is made up of so many judgmental pricks that he’ll never ever understand. You pass the joint back to him and he takes a deep pull, exhaling up into the thick summer air overhead.

“Joel,” you say softly, reeling him in from slipping off the treacherous deep end. He turns to look at you then and you cup his cheek in your palm, stroking his cheekbone softly, watching the movement of your thumb as it brushes over the fine lines near his eyes.“You were literally written by a woman, and if the world had more men like you in it, it would be a different place.”

You want to memorize this moment, cement it in your history. You move your eyes to his and find him already returning your gaze, something soft, warm and gooey found in the dark chocolate. The moment feels heavy, but not oppressive, and you wait for him to make the move you feel fizzling just below the surface. You’d wait a long time for him, you think, and the thought doesn’t scare you. No, it feels right, good. There’s no room for worry here, he’ll take care of you, just give him time.

He takes in your appearance, the softness in your eyes, the tender firmness to your words, and then he feels it: that invisible string tying him to you, and you to him. He doesn’t want the moment to end, for it to pass and be stored in his memory bank to flip through later. No, he wants to live it now in the present. And so he does, leaning in to close the gap, tilting his head to the side, aquiline nose brushing your skin, heartstrings winding together.

You can taste the weed on his breath as it fans your face, you can feel the moment flow, like a crystalline stream, or a warm breeze, and the moment his lips brush yours, slotting, melding together like molten iron, you feel it there, too.

And from that moment, he felt his heart forever welded to yours.

He inhales a shaky lungful of air, surging forward into the kiss and letting himself get lost in the raw emotions behind it.

“I think—” he pauses, murmuring against your locked lips, “I really like you, want you to be more than just my on-screen partner.” He confesses.

Your heart lurches out of your chest at his confession, and your already dizzying mind sways even more. Your lips slowly detach, a thin string of saliva connects you before dissipating into the balmy air.

“You’re just saying that because you’re stoned, Joel.” You whisper through the thick of it.

He shakes his head, brows furrowed in concentration, “No, I ain’t jus’ sayin’ it cause I’m high, baby love.” He clears his throat, nose twitching as he sniffs, “Been meanin’ to tell you for awhile—since I first met you, really.”

“You—you mean that, Joel? You aren’t just fucking with me, right?” So it wasn’t just me who was feeling it? You think.

“Course I mean it, baby. S’the truth. S’comin’ straight from my heart. You don’t gotta feel the same—I understand…” he trails off, determined to not let his assumption that you’re rejecting him hit him where it hurts.

You press your pointer finger against the pout of his lips, silencing his rambling and self deprecating words, “Joel, I feel the same way. I like you, and I want to be more than just your on-screen partner, too.”

No, baby, this is not an illusion. I’ve really got my heart out on my sleeve.

His lips feel wet and warm against the underside of your fingertip. He kisses it sweetly, breathing out a sigh of relief at your mutual feelings.

“So, wanna get burgers and milkshakes with me sometime?” He suggests, lips curving up against your finger in a boyish grin.

You smile, leaning forward and brush your nose against his, inhaling the scent of weed and him before giggling, “Yes, Joel. I’d love to get burgers and milkshakes with you sometime.”

He blushes, and the heat begins to rise to your cheeks in tandem.

“Well, baby love, ain’t no time like the present.” He chuckles warmly and you slowly slide your finger down from his lips, replacing it with a sweet kiss.

I promise I’ll take you out somewhere real nice for our official first date. Okay, baby love? He mumbles against your lips, kissing you back.

“I know you will, Joel.”

-

DoorDash is a godsend when the munchies hit, and you and Joel decide on ordering Shake Shack to satiate that craving. The order is confirmed and the eta for arrival reads: will be ready in thirty-five minutes.

The joint is passed a few more times, still burning strong, and thank fuck for that. Joel Miller sure knew how to roll the tightest joints.

There’s chemistry sizzling between your two bodies as your hands begin to roam freely across his skin, tracing across the various freckles and moles on his chest and shoulders. He shifts from your featherlight touch, cock beginning to stir to life.

“Can I fuck you, Joel?” You whisper as your hand drifts southwards, tracing along the hemline of his gray sweats.

He nods, Adam’s apple bobbing, holding the joint between his lips and watches with hooded eyes as you maneuver your soft cotton shorts to the side, revealing your bare cunt to his admiring gaze.

“S’yours, baby love. Take it.” he rasps, shifting his hips in an upward motion so you can easily pull his hardening cock free.

You clench at his words, feeling your cunt grow puffy and swollen with desire, dripping a droplet of arousal between your thighs as you gently throw your leg over his lap, straddling him in the process and pulling his cock free.

His hands move to caress you, grasping the blanket and situating it so that you’re both partially covered. He takes another long, languid drag as your palm wraps around the base of his cock and slowly ease yourself around him, sinking down till he's fully buried inside of you.

“Take it.” He requests once more. His hands roam from your hips up to the skin below your breasts as you slowly roll your hips forward into his.

His cock fully hardens inside of you, blood flowing southward causing him to swell. He feels the syrupy drag of your sweet cunt around him with each roll of your hips. He tilts his head back, jaw going slack as the joint dips down from between his lips.

“Put that out so I can kiss you, Joel.” You whisper, bringing your arms upwards to loop around his neck and to pull yourself closer to him. Your covered nipples brush against his bare chest, hardening into stiff peaks. He removes one hand from your hip, taking a final drag from the joint before he plucks it between his lips and reaches for the nearby ashtray blindly.

It may have fallen to the floor, but his mind is too intoxicated with you to care: he can deal with that later.

He holds the smoke in his mouth, letting his hand drift back down and splay across your lower back, pressing you further into him. He tilts his head upwards, finding your lips in a chaste kiss as he shotguns the smoke into your mouth.

A strangled moan is shared as you swallow the smoke down into your lungs.

“Good girl.” He praises and curves his hands around your covered ass, slipping his fingers underneath the soft fabric so he can feel your skin. He presses you forward, feeling you begin to slowly grind on his cock. “This close enough for you, baby love?”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the sudden closeness, the stretch of his cock grinding inside of you. Perspiration begins to bead at the back of your neck as your cunt flutters around him. You press your forehead against his, lips falling open, skin on fire from his touch and the steady drug coursing through your veins. “Mhm.” You whimper, “First time we're not acting, Joel.”

His hands guide you, molding you against his body as he tilts his chin upwards to catch your lips once more. “S’never been actin’ for me, not with you.” He whispers just for only you to hear.

“Oh fuck.” You softly cry out, feeling tears begin to flood the corner of your eyes and leak down the side of your cheeks.

“Every time, baby. Couldn’t help myself. every sound, every touch, every time I came, it was all you, all yours.” He continues.

He catches the glassy look in your eyes, the tear stained cheeks and he ceases your movements immediately. His caress is soft, comforting as his big palms hold your face, brushing away fresh tears. “Hey, look at me, baby. Look at me. It’s okay. I’m here. I got you.”

“Fuck—I’m so sorry, Joel. I don’t know why I —” you stumble over your words, not reaching his eyes in the midst of your emotions.

“Baby,” he tries again, “look at me.” His voice isn’t commanding, and neither are his words but the way he delivers them grounds you back to your senses and you meet his gaze finally.

“That’s it. There you go. Good girl, good fucking girl. Keep lookin’ at me with those pretty eyes, okay? Keep doin’ that.”

You card your fingers through the back of his hair, wrapping ringlets of his soft curls between them, yanking on his scalp gently as you begin to roll your hips forward once more. “I’m—okay, Joel. I’m okay.” You reassure him.

“Know you are, baby love. I know.” He hushes you softly before bringing one of his hands up to his face, spitting quietly onto his palm and drags his hand downwards between your connected bodies. He holds his spit-slicked fingers near your clit so you have something to ride into. He gives you full control while still being present to give you whatever you need.

“You gonna come for me, pretty baby? S’okay. Jus’ you, me, and the moon.” His freehand never leaves your face and stays cupped around your jaw, holding you close with his thumb continuously brushing against your cheekbone.

Your needy clit bumps and brushes against his fingers, stimulating your nerves as your cunt flutters around him. You both hear the sticky squelch, the lewd slapping of sweat stained skin. It’s just enough to send you tipping over the edge, and Joel is right there to catch you.

You stay seated on him as you both recoup from your shared orgasm. His voice sounds fuzzy, staticky in your ears as he wraps his arms around you, hugging you, shielding you almost. His lips mouth at the base of your neck as your hand stays locked in his hair.

Neither of you move a muscle until Joel hears an approaching car inching up the street, headlights flooding through the darkness. He whispers against your skin as he eases you off of him, tucking the blanket around your lower half as he slips his now softened cock back into his sweats.

Once he’s up from the bench, he cards a hand through his curls momentarily. “Munchies are here, baby love.” He tucks the corner of the blanket around you, wanting you to feel comforted before he pulls out his wallet.

The DoorDash driver rolls into the driveway just as Joel licks his thumb and flips through the stack of cash. He feels pussy drunk, and still a bit high as he approaches the driver.

There’s the lingering stench of sex and weed wafting in the air as Joel greets the driver, handing him a couple hundreds in exchange for the bag of food.

The driver looks confused as he looks down at the stack of hundreds in his palm before looking back up at Joel who simply nods and gives the man a gentle clap on the shoulder.

“Have a wonderful night, man. Drive safe, okay?” Joel’s words are genuine, sincere.

The man looks up and grins, “Definitely not gonna be as nice as y'alls. Thanks man!" He tips his imaginary hat in Joel’s direction and turns on his heel to walk back to his vehicle.

Joel gives the man a friendly wave before he heads back to the porch. The smell of the burgers is positively mouth watering as he approaches you. “C’mon, baby love. Let’s eat.”

You grin up at him from your slouched position on the bench, limbs feeling pliant and jello-like and you beckon him to meet you in the middle, “Joel, how much did you give him?”

He smiles, bending down to give you a quick kiss, “Enough to make sure that he has a good night.”

Your heart swells.

-

The burgers, fries, and shakes are wolfed down from the comfort of Joel’s couch. Artemis is awake and even sees her chance to steal a fry.

It’s domestic bliss as you and Joel sit side by side, knees touching and bellies full. He departs from the couch to throw out yours and his garbage, and when he returns, he notices you fidgeting, thighs pressed together and he raises a brow, crossing his big forearms against his chest.

“Whatcha fidgetin’ so much for, baby love?” He asks and you look over at him, lower lip taken between your teeth.

“I want to suck your cock, Joel.”

He raises his brows, cocks his head to the side in an endearing manner as he looks over at you. “What have I done to deserve a blowjob from ya, huh?” He teases, feeling a flush begin to creep up his neck.

“Because you’re a good man, Joel. Please, let me take care of you after you did such a good job of taking care of me.”

It’s not long before he finds himself on the couch, thighs spread with you sitting prettily on your knees between them. His cock lays soft against his thigh, still coated in a light layer of yours and his releases.

He’s still not quite sure what he’s done to deserve the feeling of your wet, warm mouth and tongue enveloping the velvet underside of his cock, dragging your tongue across one of the prominent veins all the way up to the mushroom head.

He tilts his head back, the soft curve of his nose catching in the faint light, the muscles in his neck straining as his mouth parts open, lips still bruised from kissing you. He lets out hot, wet breaths, a rumble of a moan as his hand drifts down to cup your face gently in his big warm palm.

“Baby love, why—fuck. What did I do to deserve this? Your sweet fuckin’ mouth.” He takes a shuddered inhale, stroking his thumb against the side of your neck, just below your ear.

You release him from your mouth with a soft pop, dragging your lips and tongue down the side of him and back up again, “You’re such a good fucking man.” You drag your lips lower, sucking one of his heavy balls into your mouth, massaging them with your tongue before pulling off, “Gave that man so much money…” you give his other ball the same amount of attention as his thighs begin to quiver, “probably paid multiple bills,” you continue, “just because you're kind, Joel.”

He’s seeing stars behind his eyes when you take him into your mouth once more, fitting what you could while deepthroating him. He listened to your little choked gags as you worked your hand around whatever you couldn’t fit into your throat. He lurched forward when he felt his balls clench like a fist. He choked out your name as you released him once more, “You’re such a good fucking man.” You preen, and take him down once more.

Holy fucking shit—ring, ring, I need a ring right fucking now, he thinks.

His impending orgasm is edged when he can no longer feel the warmth of your mouth around him and his eyes snap open.

“I want you to come on my face, Joel. Please. I want you to mark me, make me yours. You're such a giver, Joel. Can you give me this? Please baby, can I have it?" You're steadily pumping your palm around his cock just to keep him stimulated enough.

He grunts out a yes, unable to form a complete sentence because he’s off in another world.

His fist replaces your own as he paints your face in hot ropes of his cum, watching the blissed out look as your eyes flutter shut, and a dopey smile etches across your face.

He’s out of breath, and fully spent when you peek an eye open, dragging your finger through a trail of his spend on your cheek and bringing that finger into your mouth, winding your tongue around it and licking it clean.

“Take a picture, Miller. It’ll last longer.” You wink.

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[wthtorke]

Snowstorm

*Looks around* Well hello lmao what a better way to return than posting a THICK ass fic huh

8K words - Warnings for getting trapped, small spaces, and everything that comes with it + general trauma + injury - Gender-neutral reader

Enjoy! <3

-

You often put others' needs before your own. 

Not that you noticed you did it. It took some pointing out from your close friends to get you to realize just how you swept your desires under the rug.

After god knows how much pushing, you agreed to go on a trip by yourself. "No work worries, no guys, no girls, just you and your alone time!" Your friend had said. 

You sat in your living room with your laptop, browsing through destinations and flight tickets. Everyone seemed eager to see you go on the trip. At least, you hoped it was that. While you loved your friends, you worried that if you were not helpful somehow, they would drop you cold. 

Were they happy for you or happy to see you go? You didn't know, but the trip could help that too. You wanted to be more independent, sure, and in tune with yourself. 

Your eyes stop on an ad, and immediately you click it. 

Skiing in the Rocky Mountains.

You smile. The cool crisp air may do you some good.

You book the ticket and the hotel for your stay, and as the week goes by, you pack your bags. You had gone on other trips throughout your life, of course, but this one felt a little different. Maybe because it'd be your first alone adventure in a long time, but whatever it was, you felt good about it.

The day before the trip, you say goodbye to your friends and head back to your house. Only 7 hours of sleep and a couple more of flight separated you from snow and, hopefully, a lot of fun.

The trip is easy enough. You get to your room at the hotel and unpack just enough to start exploring as soon as you could. 

Groups of people gathered at the tourist stops choosing what they would be doing and booking activities for the day. Just as you reach the board, the ski equipment is fully booked for the day already. 

You frown as a lady beside you nods. "Yup, all gone! I'm pissed as fuck too! You either bring your own or get here at the butt of the morning to rent equipment." She sighs. "I'm going on a hike. Make sure to leave your name in the equipment call, though. If somebody gives up, they should give you preference, it seems." She shrugs.

You nod, perking up and signing your name with the clerk's list, looking back at the girl again, "what hike did you choose?" 

"Me? One of the easy ones, that one-," she points at the boards again. The list still had some spots left, "It's the longest of the easy ones, though. Thinking about joining?" 

You nod, "Yeah, it's only my first day here. It sounds good enough for a first day," you say, picking up the pen and putting down your info on the list. The group would depart in 30 minutes, enough time to prepare for it. 

"Nice! I'll see you at the meeting point later then!" She smiles and walks off. You smile at the clerk and head back to your room to pack your bag for the hike. 

You pack your backpack with energy bars, the biggest water bottle you could find, the emergency first aid kit one of your friends gifted you, a hiking map you bought in the reception, a small emergency light, an emergency bivy, and an emergency blanket, just in case. 

On your way down, you buy two sandwiches from a machine, along with a soup-filled thermos, stuffing them in your backpack before heading to the meeting spot. 

You look around, searching for the lady you talked to earlier, wondering if she would make it in time. 

She arrives 2 minutes before your departure, panting a bit but smiling at you, waving as she walks over. "Hey there, ready to freeze up there?" 

"Definitely not." You two laugh as your guide speaks up, stating the hike rules and emergency tips. "And lastly, do not go anywhere alone. The hike is easy, but don't underestimate it! Safety is in numbers, always. Now, with all of that said, let's get hiking!" 

The way up is slow. People chat quietly while they walk, taking pictures and generally marveling about the views, you included. 

The wind is ice cold and makes your lungs feel a bit prickly when you breathe. Your cheeks are cold, a reminder that you were really there, enjoying a hike on a trip you made on your own. It makes you smile. 

You're halfway up when your newfound friend approaches you again.

"So, you came by yourself?" The girl asks. You nod, "yeah, I thought I would do something different…what about you?" 

"I travel alone all the time. First time here, though!" She smiles, "After I started going places alone, I just couldn't stop. It's way easier." She says. The guide announces your first stop to rest is just up ahead. 

As most of the group sits down to eat and drink, you and your friend sit on a fallen log at the edge of the trail. You pull out one of your bars while she takes a few swigs of her water bottle. 

You're laughing at her jokes when a crack calls your attention toward the trees.  You turn around to look, staring intently at the trees. Your friend’s gaze switches from you to the trees multiple times, “Bestie? You good?” 

“Did you hear anything?” You ask her, still searching. The chatter from the rest of the group dies down as you strain to hear anything from the trees again. “It’s probably a squirrel or something.” She shrugs.

“I think that was too heavy to be a squirrel.” You say, hearing it again as you get up from the log, picking up your backpack. She does the same, “Okay….maybe it’s a huge squirrel or a deer?” She says, starting to sound worried as well.

The cracking sounds get louder and more violent before a strong gust of wind hits both of you. A big thundering sound follows it. You realize what’s happening all too late.

“Avalanche! Run!” 

You both scream and make for it. The snow comes crashing down through the trees as you and your friend sprint through the trail, trying to catch up with the rest of the group. You look at the snow for a fraction of a second and slip. 

You fall to the ground. You can barely hear any screaming over the falling snow’s booming noise. You scream and try getting up again, putting your hands up to shield yourself from the snow. 

Another sound hits your ears before a blur launches itself toward you. The sound is blood-curdling, bone-chilling, roaring as loud as the snow coming for you. You feel the impact of said thing against your body, throwing you both off the edge. You hold onto it, whatever it was. Screaming and closing your eyes as you both flew over the edge. 

He had seen it coming, of course. While his brothers and sisters went for the hottest countries on whatever planet they landed in. He loved the snow. He had over two centuries of experience with it. 

He saw it coming. 

You are as light as he thought you would be. He holds you and your backpack against his chest as you fall off the snowy ledge. The cord of his wrist gauntlet catches against the stone. He snaps it off as you both get launched into the cave underneath the ledge.  

He lands hard on his feet, setting you down unceremoniously on the ground before rushing back to the cave entrance. The snow rages violently over as it falls from the edge, washing over anything in its way. He had been using this cave for a few days now. He knew this could happen. Would happen.

Still, he needed to close the entrance. 

The snow piles and pushes inside the cave. He aims his blaster toward the entrance’s ceiling and shoots, jumping over to your side as the stones crash down, stopping the snow from burying you both alive as he shields your body from the falling rocks. 

It’s too much. You cry and scream while keeping your face on the floor, hands shielding your head as the booming noises of cracking trees, snow, and falling rocks make your heart pound in every which way inside your ribcage. You get dragged closer by the man who saved you, and you hug the thigh he was crouching on the ground with, sobbing into it as you wait for the nightmare to be over. 

It feels like hours. It probably is hours long until the wreckage comes to a stop. You still hear the avalanche layers settling on top of the cave and its would-be entrance. The cave is pitch black. You can’t see a palm in front of your face. All you hear is your ragged breathing and the man’s -somehow- calm one. His is heavier, although slower than yours. he was big, you were sure he was from the blur you saw standing there before the rocks fell. His breathing had a dragging sound to it, a soft ‘ch ch ch’ that made your hairs stand on end. Oh God, what if he was asthmatic? 

“I- I think we’re okay now-” You say. He doesn’t reply. “Sir, are you hurt? Oh God-” You panic, patting around the floor for your bag, scooting away from him until you find it. “I’ve got a light in here. God, I hope it’s not broken!” You take a deep breath and try to remember where you placed it, counting the small bags on the front before reaching the fourth one. You pull its zip and reach for the light. The thick, now wet, gloves you wear make the metal almost slip from your grasp. 

“Please turn on, please turn on,” You pray as you push the button, successfully illuminating the wall in front of you. “Yes! Okay, now we can-” You turn around, looking for the man,

Finding something else entirely. 

It’s bigger than any man you’ve ever known in your life. Its skin is of a blueish hue with black mottling. It has protrusions that remind you of a hedgehog’s quills up its forearms, chest, and the sides of its face. It wore a mask along with dense-looking armor that looked battle-worn. Its chest heaved the same slow and steady breathing, making the quills drag against the black netting it wore. 

Your pupils dilate in dread as you perceive it whole. Your body freezes. Your breath hitches.

And you faint. 

The light falls from your hand as your body hits the floor. Your backpack acts as a hard pillow as the world darkens and comes to a stop. 

He watches as you turn into stone and pass out on your equipment, and only then does he move toward you. He grabs the small light you produced from your pack and turns it off with the click of a button, careful not to break it. He did not need light, not as long as he had his mask (even if he didn’t, if he was honest), and not as long as you were unconscious. 

‘Might as well save its power.’ He thinks. 

He takes a quick check over your form. Bruising was sure to occur. Your ankle was sprained, also expected. All in all, everything is fine. He’s glad about that. 

Now, for air.

He stands up and walks to the entrance again. While it wasn’t safe to leave the cave while the layers were still loose, and with the temperatures dropping outside, your chances of survival were low, even if his weren’t. But being wholly shut in wouldn’t do either, especially with your panicked breath. Screaming requires air. Lots of it. 

He stretches his palm over the cold stone, feeling around. A few well-placed holes would do well enough. Stepping back, his aim shines over the stone once more. 

Adjusting the width of each blast, he lasers perfect circles scattered on the wall. The snow outside melts, and fresh, cold air drifts in through the holes before more snow covers them once more. He reaches for his back pocket, retrieving several silver rings, and places them into the holes in the stone. Adjusting the desired length of each ring before pressing a button, he watches the holograms expand on his gauntlet until they surpass the snow outside. He checks each tube, satisfied when air flows steadily through all of them.

He turns back to you and walks over.

He couldn’t say what made him save you. He had been hunting in the mountains. He did see you and your group going up. But why did he risk himself to save you? He didn’t know. He found himself clutching the tree he was perched on when the snow went down, even though he would have been safe. He leaped before you fell to your knees in the snow. 

Crouching down, he takes a second to look at your face.

You groan, and he sits down, moving back to give you some space. You look around, seeing the thin light streaks coming from the wall. You look a bit to the side and squint, spotting the one figure you hoped was a dream. 

A scream rips from your throat as you panic once more, almost crushing your light in the process. You back up into the nearest wall and point your light at him, turning it on again. “What are you?! What-!”

It’s a strange creature, half man and half… something else. You had no idea what.

He lifts his hands up, and you grasp your light firmly as if it were a gun. “Don’t move-! Stay there! Who are you? What do you want?!” You ask. Demand. 

You hear audio shuffling before a distorted, “Easy…- Easy…” reaches your ears. You recognize the voice. Your instructor, the line spoken to the whole group while going through a particularly slippery part of the trail that morning. “What-...What are you? You’re not a man-, who are you?” You ask desperately. 

He shakes his head, and you want to cry harder, though he didn’t answer your second question. “Am I dead?” You sob. He shakes his head again and slowly points to the door. 

“-..-Thick S̴̨̛̛̞͉̗̜̦̘̤̤̱͉͖͒̍̑̆̑͌͆̃̕n̴̡̳̖͕̹̞͎̝̞͂̿̀̾̏̈̈́́͝ơ̸̝̣̓̔̾͊̈́̇̇̋̎̓͜͝w-.”

You sniffle, not peeling your eyes from him. “Are you going to hurt me? Please don’t-” He doesn’t reply, slowly lowering his hands again. You start to get nervous again before he points to the corner of the cave. Hesitantly, you cast the light to it, seeing the glint of the metal-like cord he had used to save you both. Your eyes widen as you try to remember the quick flashes of the occurred. You fell. The snow was coming. Something caught you, held you, and you fell over the edge. The light moves back to his form. “It was you-, so you saved me, okay-, but why?”

Again, no reply. 

The tears form cold, stiff streaks on your cheeks as you try to wipe them with the back of your gloves. You look around the cave. It wasn’t that big. You doubted you could stand up fully inside it, let alone someone as big as your…new friend. He had taken care of the air supply, but you weren’t properly trained for this. You feared you wouldn’t last until the morning. Not like this.

“You-, you made the holes in the walls, right? Can’t you get us out?” You ask him. He shakes his head. “Safer-...Here.” 

“How is it safer here? We’re buried to our necks in-...Snow.” He nods. 

“Snow is a good insulator, right?” He nods again. “Right…So you’ll get us out in the morning?” He doesn’t reply. “I’ll take that as a hopeful yes.” You say, setting your light down in the middle of the cave, pointing at the ceiling, illuminating the space the best it could. 

You open your backpack and set to planning your night here. You see your phone and gasp, trying to get it. No signal. 

You sigh as you look at the rest of your pack. You had your blanket, emergency bivy, and food and water were also fine. Nothing got broken during your rescue, thankfully. 

You take a look at your companion to find him also going through his own pack, though his equipment looked far different than yours. They almost seemed like…weapons. 

Oh, God.

“Do you come here often?” You ask. His head snaps at you. You freeze. 

He shakes his head, and you sigh in relief. “You don’t…hunt people, right?” 

He keeps staring. You wish you hadn’t asked. “Innocent people? You hunt innocent people?” Perhaps it was the trauma, the ice, the pain, or the sheer chaos of the situation you found yourself in. But judging an alien creature wasn’t as impossible as you thought it’d be. “Hunters- -Like me.” His mask croaks.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “You hunt…other hunters? Human ones or, like, -really- like you? People like you?” 

“-Like me.” He repeats. 

“Your own species? Like a cop?”

A few seconds pass before you hear your own voice. “Like a cop.” Your eyes widen more. “So you’re a space cop, got it…Then what are you doing here on Earth? And in the -snow- of all places?”

A strange sound comes from him. A scoff. 

“Vaca̶̤͔͚͌̃͝ͅtion timee̷̛͖̬͙̞̞̯͙͉͓̓́̈́̀̚e̴̛̞͎͆̀͂̉̎̂͘̕͠͝e-” A young girl’s voice followed by laughter. 

You find yourself laughing nervously at the audio. A soft laugh that makes him tilt his head slightly. “Me too.” You say, “Ironically enough.”

You set out your equipment in silence before you unwrap your first sandwich. You look at your watch. 3 PM. Nice time to have a heavier snack, then you could eat the bars until the night and then eat your soup. And you’d still have your second sandwich! 

Your…second sandwich. 

“Hey.” You look at him again. He looks up from organizing his gear. “Do you have any food in that pack of yours? I have an extra one here.” You lift the wrapped sandwich to show him. 

He seems to consider before giving you a dismissive hand gesture, going back to his fiddling.

“I have plenty here,” You say. “I don’t think…someone as big as you shouldn’t go too long without eating something.” He looks at you again. His mask moves slightly. You weren’t sure if he was really looking at your hand or not.

“It’s just a turkey sandwich, are you vegetarian?” You ask, worried, for some reason. He makes a strange sound. Clicking and huffing came from his mask. Was he laughing? 

“Look, to me, you’re a carnivore -at least- but I can’t be too sure, right? You’re the first…alien I know.”

He shakes his head. “Not-, Vegetarian.” 

You nod, digging around your backpack for the other sandwich before tossing it to him. The speed with which he catches it is impressive enough. You blink, and his hand moves from the ground to beside his mask, catching the sandwich. 

He eyes it as you eat your own. For a second, you wonder if he’s allergic to anything in it. You’re about to ask when he moves again, sitting with his back turned to you. 

You frown in confusion as he sets the sandwich down on his thigh before starting to take the mask off. 

Each pop it makes has your eyes widening impossibly more. With everything that happened, you forgot the mask wasn't his -face-.

He sets the mask down, its impassive expression staring at you from the floor while he picks up the sandwich again, unwrapping it. 

You wondered what he looked like without it. It felt too rude to ask. Maybe he wanted to remain anonymous from you. 

Maybe the light hurt his eyes. Maybe he didn’t want to scare you.

Maybe he was just -shy-. 

The clicking sound- now much louder and clear, calls your attention back to reality. You watch as he apparently throws the whole sandwich into his mouth, if he really had one, and swallows it whole. 

If he chewed it, you didn’t hear it. But you do hear the biggest ‘gulp’ of your life coming from him. 

You jump a little bit when he picks up the mask again, snapping the tubes back on and turning around again.

You finish eating your own food and put the trash in your bag. "I need something I can…call you- you know, other than alien? That feels rude.” 

He shakes his head, and you lick your cold lips in thought. “How does Storm sound? I don’t think ‘Avalanche’ is any good.” You shrug, taking a swig from your water bottle. “I don’t think I should mention this to anyone, right?” 

He nods. You purse your lips again, “Look- I know the less contact between us the better, and I definitely shouldn't be asking these questions- but if I don't talk I think I'll go insane." 

Storm crosses his arms, seemingly in thought before he says a simple, firm, "Yes."

"...Are there more alien species? Do you know them? Seen any?"

"Yes. -Yes….Yes." 

"Wow." You whisper to yourself. "You're the most amazing and intense thing that ever happened to me…besides the avalanche, of course."

He relaxes, shifting a bit to sit against the stone wall. You do the same, resting against your pack. "Our government must know of you- are we friends? Our people?" 

He shakes his head. You sag. "Oh…that sucks" Storm tilts his head, and a series of cut audios gather your attention again. "Government- sucks." 

You laugh. His shoulders shake slightly. Maybe he was laughing as well? 

"This wasn't what I had in mind when I came here, but I'm glad you're here. Thank you for saving me," you say. He stares at you before nodding slowly.

You smile and look at his pack on the floor, "Hey, do you have water? I have some if you want." He shakes his head and pulls out a metal bottle from one of the pouches on his back. A canteen? 

“Do you want to lay out our things? We could see what we have and how we’re going to split it until tomorrow. I know the first rule is overpacking is good but…I don’t reeeally have that much,” you let out a nervous laugh.

He takes a second and stands on his knees. He is almost as tall as you'd be standing like that. He gathers his pack and throws it closer to you while he moves over.

You stare at him for a couple of seconds before the mask slowly turns to you. “Oh-, right, sorry- you’re just- okay never mind- So, I got my light, of course-, I got some energy bars, water, a map, a bivy, a blanket, a knife, a little emergency kit, and soup! Well-, more food if you can’t translate that.” You hold up the thermos like it was a prized trophy, "what do you got?"

He starts laying his own things out.

A dagger, cuffs of some kind, knives, a -whip-, the canteen he had shown you earlier, mini orbs that suspiciously looked like smoke bombs from movies, plus other things- probably weapons too, you had no idea the use of. And last, but not least, he offers you a jar. 

You put yours down and hold his. The lid is not nearly as simple as yours, it has a mechanism on top of it. You frown in confusion before he snorts and presses two buttons on top of it. 

The lid fizzes, and you gasp, looking up at him. He nods, and you slowly take it off, placing it on top of your blanket. The smell hits your nose, and you look at him again. "Jerky? Oh my God-, can I?" He nods. 

You carefully take a strip of meat from the jar. "What kind of meat is this? This isn't…human, right?" You gulp. He shakes his head and lifts his wrist. His gauntlet shows a hologram of a deer. 

"Ohhhh, wow, you're really a hunter, aren't you?" You marvel, putting the strip back in the jar before closing it again. Storm taps the same buttons, and it seals tight again. 

You place the jar on the floor along with everything else. The contrast between your equipment and his is stark. You laugh a bit. "Well, aren't we made for each other?" He snorts as you check your watch.

You look up and find his mask very close to you, also looking at your watch. "It's not as fancy as yours," you laugh, holding your wrist up for him to see. 

Being this close, you feel your face heat up. You look down at his torso when he gently grabs your wrist, inspecting it closer. "You- are you not um- cold? You're not exactly ah…layered up." 

He did wear some fur around his shoulders and waist, but other than that, only the netting and some armor. He does the clicking sound again- chuckling? 

The hand on your wrist firms it while the other pops your glove open, pulling it up and off your hand. You jerk a bit when he pulls the naked hand to his chest. "Oh- what-...Oh." 

Hot. He is hot. Literally. 

You can't tell if the netting is heated or if he's just a furnace. But he's incredibly warm. Your fingers twitch as you concentrate on the feel of his skin. It wasn't like yours, that was for sure. It was almost rubbery, and hot but texturized as well. It was…well, alien. The prickly quills he had also were interesting to stare at. 

What a Tarzan moment.

You take your hand back, putting your glove on again, "I'm jealous of that temperature. Even with all these layers, I'm still cold," you frown, "your planet must be scorching hot," you say. 

He takes a while but nods. 

He didn't exactly like sharing information, you learned. It was fair, he saved you- and he was an alien. Things were complicated. "I think you look great here though, in the snow," The glove feels cold compared to what you just experienced. 

He scoffs, crossing his arms as you think about the events of today over and over again before looking at him once more. "Do you have any family?" The question hits you like a train and blurts out of your mouth before you could filter it. "I mean- if you can tell me." 

He nods, and your eyebrows go up in surprise. Not that you thought he wouldn't have one. He had a belly button, so he couldn't have just…spawned from somewhere. You smile at the mental image of him just popping into existence.

You look back at your equipment, especially at the food. "Look, I know we're on 'not too much involvement' thing, but you don't have to turn away every time to eat. I won't tell anyone- though I'm sure the government must have blurry pictures of others like you in their archives somewhere already."

He's closer to you than before, having not moved away since your little touching moment. His presence is as grounding as it is exciting. It makes you alert and awake, even though you're so tired. 

Storm's mask turns to you slightly, considering. 

"Scary." 

You frown. "Scary? Your face is scary? But your mask is so…familiar? Is it too different from it?" 

He nods again. 

"Oh- well, I won't be afraid of you, you saved my life, and now we're here chatting and having an icy picnic covered in snow. I'd say this makes us best friends." You smile. He huffed.

What he does instead is lift his wrist gauntlet again. Another hologram pops up. 

"Ohhhhh my-" You look back up at his mask. Its cold expression almost mocks you. "Okay, you weren't lying when you said it was different- why do you guys make it like that? You know what- that's none of my business, sorry." You look back at the hologram. 

While you didn't know if it was really him- the hologram was all red-, the way their faces were just…made sense. The tusks, the teeth, the mandibles. You marvel at the quills on the eyebrows, just like they were on the rest of him. 

Something must have been wrong with you, but you didn't think he was ugly.

"I get the scary part. I'd freak out if I saw you in the dark, no offense." He chuckles deeply, the most you've seen him laugh so far. You smile again. "Thanks for showing me, now I won't pass out on you again if you take it off." He shuts it off. You almost made a sad noise at it.

Suddenly, all the excitement takes a toll on you. With your last burning curiosity sated, your eyes begin to get heavier. "Okay, I think the adrenaline is starting to wear off." You say. "I think I'm going to sleep a bit." 

He gets up, checking the air supply tubes in the stone. You worm your way into your bivy, leaving the blanket for him if he needs it. He probably wouldn't, but the thought eased you. "Wake me up if anything changes okay?" You say. He doesn't react. You take a painkiller and lay down again.

"...and please don't leave me here alone." You say, with a little more emotion than you anticipated. 

He turns his head and nods before going back to his inspection. 

You close your eyes for a second.

Just a second. 

You jolt awake when a hand closes around your shoulder. You blink several times, breathing in deeply as you focus on the mask before you again. "Hey- anything changed?" 

Storm shakes his head, pointing at your watch instead as you sit up. You check the time. 7:15 PM. Your ice cave definitely feels colder now.

You get up, taking your soup thermos out of the bag. Its lid made for a little bowl. You prayed it was still warm. 

You sigh in relief as you pour the soup on the lid. It was lukewarm, but the warmth spreading through your torso was priceless. You're on your second sip when you hear the same fizzy noise as before. Your eyes darted to your side where Storm was taking his mask off. 

You gulp as the second tube is snapped off. He's facing forward as he's sitting beside you. But still, you would see it.

You tip the cup back as you swallow your third sip, hoping the thick plastic would disguise your blatant staring. 

Storm's fingers slip under the metal, snapping it briefly before lifting it from his face. Your breath quickens quietly as your eyes follow the metal until it's placed on the floor. You stare at it before slowly looking back up. 

Storm is looking at you. 

Your eyes dilate as you take in every aspect of his face. The mandibles, the tusks, the sharp teeth peeking from behind tightly closed tusks. The blue hue from his body painted his face, fading into a cool white tone in the middle of his face. The edges of his head are shaped like a crown. A black crown that closed into the middle of his head, where the blues and whites were. 

And then the eyes. His eyes.

Unlike the rest of him, Storm’s eyes were yellow. Deep, electric yellow. The primal instinct in your brain told you this was wrong. His face was wrong. Well, he wasn’t human. You were coded to think anything with different features walking on two legs was weird. 

Your brain told you to run, scream or get help, to do something -against- him while the rest of you knew well that he was an ally. It was hard to go against every fiber of your being and stay still. 

‘He’s still your friend.’ You think. ‘He just looks a little different.’ 

Storm’s expression changes, and while you can’t grasp what the tusk movements must mean yet, you surely know what a skeptical eyebrow raise looks like. “I’m not freaking out, I swear.” You manage to say. You have no idea if he still understands you without the mask. 

He seems to, as his top tusks twitch and his eyebrows relax. He looks away and grips his own jerky jar. You’re suddenly reminded of your soup. You pour more soup onto the lid, gulping it down while trying your best not to openly stare at him.

It’s evident he’s also trying to ignore you while he eats. His tusks part and he inserts the chunks of jerky in. You can’t see any molars in your ogling. Maybe he was made for tearing out chunks of food and swallowing them like a crocodile? 

You gulp down more of your soup until it’s down to half of it. You shake the thermos a bit, doing your best to stir the soup before leaning it toward him. “Would you like some?” To your surprise, he’s also offering you his jar. You smile, nodding, “Let’s swap.” 

You trade bottles, picking out a piece of jerky while he brings the thermos closer to his mouth. He didn’t have an apparent nose, but maybe he just smelled things differently. He must have deemed it good enough for his mandible part, and he tips his head back, drinking the soup. You half expected it to spill over and make a mess, but having done this for however long he had lived, he knew what he was doing. 

You, on the other side, had no idea what you’d do without your lips.

After eating your fill and re-packing, you huddle close to him. Storm messed with his wrist gauntlet as you lost yourself in your thoughts once more. For once in your life, the silence was comfortable. Sure, you couldn’t exactly communicate, but that didn’t feel like a problem. 

You could communicate with your friends and family, but it still made you anxious at times. Next time you check your watch, it's about 9 PM. “I think we should sleep,” you say, getting his attention once more. “I’ve slept a bit and…fainted, but you haven’t slept yet.” 

Seeing him without the mask was as otherworldly as it was interesting. Seeing his expressions as he listened to you, then changing while he thought before finally setting as he nodded. 

You smile and crawl back to your bivy while he checks the air supply once more. You had no idea how you would get out of the cave tomorrow, but you trusted Storm and his high-tech equipment. And his muscles. The muscles were a big plus, too.

By the time he turns around, you’re inside your bivy, but you point to the blanket folded neatly on top of your backpack. “I know you’re well warm, but the blanket is over there if you need it.” He looks at it briefly before nodding at you. He hands you your emergency light and lays down on the opposite side of the cave, about two arm's lengths away from you. 

“Good night, partner.” You say before shutting the light off, getting a grunt in return. 

The cave was pitch black as you expected. You shuffle a bit in your bivy before settling down completely on your side. You wondered how people outside were doing. Did the avalanche make the news? Did your friends know? Was anyone else hurt during it? You were thankful to be alive, thankful for Storm, but you felt bad for everyone else. 

Tears prickled in the corners of your vision as you try so hard to fall asleep. It’s cold, you’re trapped in a cave with an alien. Not that Storm was a negative point. You’d be dead without him. But things were far from okay right now. 

You hear shuffling and wonder if Storm also has trouble sleeping. He’d been calm so far, never raising his voice or panicking. ‘Maybe he’s used to these situations.’ You think, given the scars he bears on his body. You didn’t want to think of what could hurt someone like Storm. 

Your chest feels tight. It’s hard to push the anxiety down. You almost want to talk to him again, but what would you say? What -could- you say? You were the one to suggest sleeping in the first place. Your heart beats faster, and you’re awfully aware of your surroundings, even in the dark. 

The walls are cold and wet. The air is a little stale. You can smell yourself as you can also smell Storm behind you. You can smell the thick rubbery scent of your gloves as they grip the bivy’s lining with all they got. Like you had gripped Storm earlier that day when he rescued you.

You swallow dryly, trying to breathe in and out to avoid negative thoughts. Things would be okay. You were alive, fairly warm, and you had a big alien as your personal bodyguard through a disaster. You hear more shuffling. The sound of the emergency blanket being unfolded hits your ears. You wait a couple of seconds, eyes darting around in the dark before you open your mouth to ask him if he was okay. 

You’re in the middle of breathing your first word when you feel the blanket getting laid on top of your bivy. Storm smooths out the blanket on top of you before laying down again, closer to you this time. You’re at loss for words. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. 

You feel his breath against the top of your beanie, so his chest must be somewhere in front of you now. You bite your lip, feeling the knot in your chest loosen the tiniest bit. You were not alone. Things were going to be okay.  You focus on his breathing pattern, so even and calm. Constant. The sound his tusks occasionally make is soothing over the deathly silence of the cave. You don’t remember closing your eyes, nor do you remember falling asleep. 

The way your bladder burns wakes you up. Storm’s breathing is heavier now, asleep. It pains you to move, like getting your pet out of your lap after it finally got comfortable. 

As soon as you move, his breathing stops. Then resumes in that light, calculated rhythm. Awake. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you whisper, worming out of your bivy, patting around for your light. You go to the far corner of the cave and do your business, covering it with loose dirt with your boot, thanking the universe Storm didn’t move an inch from where he was. 

Taking your pants off in the unbelievable cold of a 3 AM shut-in ice cave was no easy business. Curse bodily functions to the end and back. You do your best to push the burning shame down and head to your backpack, sanitizing your hands. 

You steal a glance to your side while you think, catching Storm looking directly at you. Your spine shivers a bit, a mix from the cold and his gaze. You take another sip of water and crawl back into your bivy, mindful of your ankle.

It makes your face heat up more to see how close he’s been to you for all these hours and how he doesn’t care enough to move away, even now that you disrupted him awake. 

You lick your lips and clutch your light, looking at him again before shutting it off. Your face is still hot from all of it, but you listen intently to his breathing and clicking. You hoped he wouldn’t move away from you just yet, at least until you fell asleep. 

You feel the warmth coming from his chest, moving your head forward so you could be closer to it, trying to chase away the rest of the cold from your suit again. That pee break cost you some precious degrees. 

You’re still sulking internally when he finally moves. Your eyes widen in the dark as he spreads the blanket over you again. You smile and close your eyes, only to open them again as widely as before when you feel his arm drape over you.

He grunts, and suddenly you’re being dragged forward by that same arm. Your forehead hits something, and you instantly know it's his chest. You swallow hard. It’s as hot as it was earlier, rumbling with each breath. 

“Warm.” He croaks. You shiver at how deep his real voice is. You nod fervently against his chest. The arm stays around you. 

It takes you several minutes of internal struggle to calm down again. Your face is hotter, both from your embarrassment and his body temperature. Your ears turn back on when you hear a faint noise.

You squint, leaning in closer, and the sound gets louder. 

His heartbeat. 

Your body relaxes, almost melting against him.

His arm tightens the tiniest bit around you. You press your cheek against his chest, feeling his mandibles graze against the top of your beanie. 

The rest of the night goes by too fast for your liking. 

He wakes you up at 7 AM sharp. You almost want to cry when you realize the arm is no longer holding you, that his heartbeat is not against your ear still. 

He packs his equipment, and so do you, leaving only the map out. “We were here yesterday.” You say, pointing at the map. “The hotel is here, and I think the equipment stall is here?” You felt like you were explaining your destination to a taxi driver. 

You look up at him. He’s masked and ready to leave. So are you.

“How are we going to do this? Or, well, how you’re going to do this?” You ask. Storm makes a punching motion toward the stone. You almost can’t believe your very eyes. “Oh.” 

Storm retracts the tubes and puts them away in one of his bags. This was it. 

You stand at the side as Storm readies himself. He pushes some buttons on his gauntlet. You brace yourself as it makes a firing-up noise. 

Storm steadies himself and times the punch with the gauntlet’s blast. 

You close your eyes at the noise, protecting your head with your hands before you’re snatched from the ground once more. 

You open them again when blinding light covers your eyelids. Everything is white as your eyes adjust. When colors flood your vision, you realize that not only you’re out of the cave but you’re in the air. Everything moves too fast. 

Storm holds you up as he lands harshly in the snow piled below between trees. You shake the snow off your face as he works you both out of the thick snow bank. He squats again, and you hold tightly onto his neck before he jumps once more.

You struggle not to scream this time as well.

Storm lands firmly onto the snowy forest floor. He places you down gently as he surveys the area before relaxing once more. You look around, looking at the mountainside, following the trail of broken rocks until you see the cave's would-be entrance, quickly getting topped with more falling snow. “We were there?” You ask, out of breath. Storm nods. You turn to him. “Good legs.” You compliment. He huffs behind the mask. 

You feel buzzing coming from your backpack, frowning in confusion before you remember your phone. Placing the pack on the floor, you quickly check it, watching as the multiple messages and missed calls finally load into your screen. You smile, choking on your breath before looking at Storm again. 

You avoid your hurting ankle as you surge forward and wrap your arms around him again. He barely moves, not stepping back or stopping you. His hands hesitate at his sides before coming up and resting them on your shoulders, pressing you against him once before letting go. 

You look up at him, seeing him at full height in daylight felt unreal. “Thank you so much. I owe you everything. You saved me. You had no obligation to, but you did. Thank you so much.” You bury your face into his chest again, feeling it rumble. You smile before he tenses up, and you both hear the helicopter sound from far away. 

You let him go, looking up at the sky before looking back at him. Your heart tore into pieces. “You can go now.” The tears sting your eyes. “I’ll be fine from here.” He looks back at you.

“I’ll never forget you.” You sob, “Thank you again, for everything.” 

The helicopter gets closer. You watch as he disappears in front of your very eyes. The blue skin and armor blend with the snow and trees behind him before the reflective figure jumps up one tree to another, and another, until you lose track of it in the distance. 

Cold tears slide down your face as you hobble your way to a clearing, throwing your arms up when the helicopter comes into view. 

The rest of the day goes by too slowly for your liking.

You’re taken back to the hotel, where a makeshift hospital has been set up. You’re asked questions, to which you reply either ‘I don’t know’ or ‘I was buried in the snow all night’. You text your friends and relatives back while your ankle is tended to. You see the hiking girl from yesterday when you’re getting cleared from IV hydration hours later. 

She screams in surprise, coming to hug you. ‘How did you make it?! Oh my God, we thought you were dead! I’m so happy to see you!” She cries, and so do you. After talking for a while, she shakes her head. “I’m cutting the damn trip -short-. I’m going the fuck home, and so should you. The flights are crazy, but there’s a company giving preference to the victims and their families.” She informs you. 

One hour later, she hugs you one last time before leaving. 

You do as she says, cutting the trip short as well, needing to process and recover from everything that happened. You’re promised heaven on earth by the hotel and the flight companies for future trips. Your friends scoff at the very thought of it. “Why the hell would you go back there? That’s insane of them to offer you packages like that.” One of them says.

You nod along the next few weeks until things slowly blend into normality again. You don’t tell anyone about what happened that night, and people don’t bother you about it. You look at your bag in your wardrobe every time you open it, thinking back to him, wondering if he also thought about you.  

Six months of this go by. Followed by another six months. 

One day, you open your wardrobe and pull your bag out again, dusting it for your trip. People worry about your decision of going back there. Some worry it might reopen wounds rather than closing them for good like you told them it would. Some others just thought you were crazy.

Crazy or not, you packed your bag and left. The flight took off and landed. You found yourself at the hotel, looking at the same clerk in the eyes again while she checked you in again, welcoming you back to the hotel. 

You look at the hiking lists, finding them slightly different, but still running. You check in for solo hiking.  You pack your bag accordingly this time, filled with all the necessities a survivor could need before you take off. 

The forest is peaceful, and the track is fresh beneath your boots. You’re enjoying soup fondly at the end of the track when you hear that noise. The rumbly, clicking noise that you heard in your dreams for the past year. Always followed by the steady sound of a strong heartbeat. 

You turn around, smiling when blue hues and armor flood your vision once more. ----------- If you read it till here, you're a champ lmao

Thanks for reading <3 muah muah

more work like this here

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

hello dear. for the kiss prompts, may i please see ‘a possessive kiss in the rain’ with crosshair? 👀

hiiii friend, thank you so much for your patience for the wait. the muse has been extra fickle since October, but I hope this is worth the wait <3

Uncertain Tomorrows

Summary: Actions speak louder than words. Aka, Crosshair isn't good at emotions.

Warnings: blog is 18+; angst (it's Crosshair, what do you expect), miscommunication / lack of communication, pre-Echo, swearing

Word Count: 688

Chewing on the inside of your cheek so hard you’re liable to draw blood, you can’t help the way you’re glaring at Crosshair’s back. He’s perched on the edge of a high stool at the bar, long legs crossed at the ankle, twirling a whiskey glass between thin fingers. You’re supposed to be enjoying shore leave, the first one the squad has had in months, and yet all you feel is pissy. 

Earlier in the night, you’d deboarded the Marauder with the others, all of you in civvies and in high spirits, even Crosshair. You feel like you’ve finally been able to get a decent grasp on reading him and his moods, and the loose way his toothpick had hung between his lips was clear indication that he was relaxed, ready for a break. You all were. 

Apparently, Crosshair’s idea of a break is chatting up women at the cantina bar. 

You’re not together. You have to remind yourself of that. Despite the mutual longing glances, neither of you have acted on your feelings, whether by mutual respect for one another or by fear of tearing the squad apart. So it shouldn’t sting as much as it does to watch him toss easy smirks at the pretty woman at the bar right now. 

But it does. 

Hunter gives you a sympathetic look as you finally decide you’ve had enough and scoot out of the booth. With Wrecker across the cantina hustling pool and Tech acting as his number two, the only one who will know where you’ve gone at this point is Hunter. Which also shouldn’t sting, but it does. 

The moment you step outside, you’re met with a bone-chilling rain. Breath fogging in front of your face, you shiver, pulling your jacket tighter around you. The spaceport isn’t too terribly far, but you’re already beginning to regret coming outside. 

Whatever. It beats going back inside.

You only make it a few steps, ice needling into your skin, before the cantina door opens behind you. Warm light and laughter spill out, inviting you back. Glancing over your shoulder, you grimace. 

“I’m going back to the ship,” you call. 

“I know,” Crosshair responds.

“You should go back in,” you say, turning to face forward once more, hunching your shoulders against the cold. “She looked nice.” 

He calls your name, but you keep walking. 

You gasp when a hand grips your upper arm and spins you around. Colliding with Crosshair’s chest, you glare up at him and open your mouth to rip him a new one—

Only to grunt in surprise when his lips meet yours. 

Jerking back, you try to break from his embrace. His hands remain on your arms, though he lets you step back. 

“What the fuck, Cross?” you snarl. “You think it’s cool to just—toy with my emotions like this?” 

“No,” he grits out. 

You wait, but that seems to be all he wants to say. Rain streams down your face, the cold an afterthought now with the anger burning through you. 

“That all you have to say for yourself?”

His jaw works as he gazes at you, his short gray hair plastered to his head. Nostrils flaring, he looks away. “No. I’m—I’m not good at this. Clearly. But I don’t know—I don’t know how to—Kriff it! Can I kiss you again or not?” 

All of your anger condenses into a single burning, molten dagger in your heart as you stand there, jaw dropped as you weigh his words. This is so far from how you ever would have expected this confession to go, for either of you, and yet the opportunity is here. If you let it go, tell him no, he’s going to respect that. 

And you’ll have missed your shot. 

You pull him back to you and kiss him. It’s a hungry, desperate, possessive kiss, full of teeth and tongue. Cold rain water sluices off your skin as you swallow his moan. 

You don’t know what this means—you don’t know where to go from here—but Crosshair is in your embrace, and all you know is that you don’t intend to let him go.

Ragu: @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @mandos-mind-trick @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @bobaprint @dickarchivist @a-single-tulip @thorsterstrudle @droids-you-are-looking-for @goblininawig @cw80831 @mssbridgerton @dreamie411 @jedi-hawkins @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @9902sgirl

[thefloorisbalaclava]

hot and cold

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader 

Words: 2,155 

Warnings: some angst, Javi likes you but doesn't know how to express that. SMUT - unprotected sex, clothed sex, fingering, spitting, spanking, dirty talk. 

Summary: Your relationship with Javi runs hot then cold with no in-between.

[Javier masterlist]

When you first met Javier Peña, he seemed like the typical man though he was more handsome than most. His good looks were overshadowed by his nonchalant attitude about who he slept with, seemingly never wanting to settle down.

You stayed away for as long as possible, telling yourself you would never fall for that Peña charm. But those big brown eyes dragged you in, and you found yourself in his bed more often than expected. You couldn’t blame drinks or him. It was all on you. He wasn’t as easy to resist as you first thought.

Your ‘relationship’ with him was complicated. The morning after you first had sex with him, he treated you strangely at work. You had floated into work on cloud nine, but by the middle of the day, you were in Hell. Your flirty words didn’t seem to work on him, and he talked to you as if you were just another notch in his bedpost. So, that was how you took it. No feelings, no strings. You were a quick fuck like all the others.

When he called, you ignored it. You openly flirted with other men. You even let him see you leaving the bar with another man one night. Your phone rang off the hook that night.

The next day, he pulled you into one of the empty offices and paced the floor before finally speaking.

“Who was that guy?” he asked, and you laughed bitterly.

“That’s none of your fucking business,” you snapped.

“So, that’s what you do now?” He stopped pacing and put his hands on his hips.

“What’s wrong, Javi? Don’t like the taste of your own medicine?” When he didn’t respond, you shrugged and left him in the empty office alone.

--

You had put in for some vacation time without letting anyone in the office know, so when you didn’t show up, it left Javi wondering if something had happened to you.

Once again, every time he called, you ignored it. You weren’t going to let him ruin your time off.

A week into your vacation, you finally decided to answer his call. Before you could even say hello, he cut in harshly.

“Where the fuck have you been?” He was probably pacing the floor the way he always did when feeling hot-headed.

“On vacation,” you said casually, looking at your nails.

“And you couldn’t tell me that?”

“Why do I have to tell you?” you wondered. You had stumped him. He stayed silent for a time. “You forget, Javi, I am not yours. I don’t have to tell you where I am, who I’m fucking, or anything else.”

“I don’t understand,” he scoffed.

“I’m playing your game, baby.”

“I’m coming over,” he told you.

“No, you’re not.” You hung up and snuggled down into your sheets.

--

You tried your best to ignore the knock on your door. You knew who it was and what would happen if you opened that door. A problem stood on the other side of that door—a man you let bewitch you with his words and coffee brown eyes. Out there stood a man you knew the reputation of, yet you still let him have you just like all of those other women.

Out there was a man that would never have feelings for you—at least not the same ones you had for him.

Cold. Very cold.

The heat between you two had cooled to the point of freezing.

He knocked again, and it startled you for some reason. Maybe if you were quiet enough, he would go away.

“I know you’re there,” he said through the door. You walked to the door and immediately grew warmer as if you could feel his body heat through the barrier. “I just wanna talk to you.”

No. You wouldn’t fall for that again. The only talking he wanted to do was pillow talk or the talking he did as he rushed to get dressed and escape after getting what he wanted from you.

You pressed your forehead against the door and sighed. Why couldn’t you tell him to fuck off?

“I’ve been…worried about you,” he said, and it suddenly felt a bit warmer like on those winter days when you get that bit of sun that shines down on you, offering its warmth even through the bitter cold.

“Liar,” you said.

“You know I don’t lie to you.” He paused for a moment. “Come on, let me in. Your neighbors are starting to look at me weird.”

“Then leave,” you told him.

“No.”

“Fine. Stay, but you are not coming in here.” You backed away from the door and hugged yourself.

Freezing.

--

About an hour later, you tiptoed to the door and looked out the peephole. He wasn’t there. He had finally given up. Good. You were starving and didn’t have anything in your apartment to eat, so you were going to walk down to your favorite little café and grab something.

You opened the door only to be startled by the man sitting beside your door holding a paper bag with two drinks on the floor between his legs.

“Had a feeling you hadn’t eaten,” Javier said as he stood with a groan. He winced as he bent his knees and stretched his back. “An hour. I’m too old for that.”

“No one told you to wait…or sit there,” you said.

“I know.”

“So don’t complain.” He held the bag out to you, and you just stared at it. “What is it?”

“What do you think it is? The same damn thing you always get for lunch. Take the bag so I can get the drinks.”

You rolled your eyes, snatched the bag from him, and watched as he bent to pick up the drinks.

“You gonna let me in?” he asked. He looked into your eyes, and you almost had to look away.

You sighed and walked into your apartment, holding the door open for him. It felt warm for the first time today.

--

“What’s your problem with me?” he asked as he sipped at the beer you offered him after he finished the drink from the café.

“What’s your problem with me?” you rebutted. He looked as if he had no idea what you were talking about. You were going to have to be straightforward then.

“You fucked me then pretended I didn’t even exist,” you snapped, and his eyebrows shot up.

“I didn’t—” he began.

“Oh, fuck you, Peña. Yes, you did! If you wanted me to be a fling, you should’ve told me that. I can deal with not being the only one,” you lied.

“Can you?” he asked, and you bit the inside of your cheek in anger.

“I think you should go.” You stood and walked to the door.

“You’re one the toughest…most stubborn women I know, you know that?” You heard the chair creak as he stood up. The sound of his footsteps grew closer as you kept your back to him. “I like that about you.”

“Obviously, you don’t.” You wouldn’t even look at him. You couldn’t because of how close he was to you right now. “Just tell me I'm nothing to you…that the sex meant nothing to you, and I can stop hoping that you’ll ever see me as more than one of your playthings.”

“I don’t wanna do this…” he sighed, and finally, you turned to him.

“Why Javier?!” you shouted. “Why can’t you? I am tired of following after you like some hurt, lost puppy. Just tell me that whatever is between us is no different than any of your other situations.” You couldn’t think of a better word for it.

“I’m not gonna do that,” he said in a normal tone. “You already know that I never lie to you, and if I tell you that you’re nothing to me or just another fling, that would be the first lie I’ve ever told you.” He looked at you, waiting for it to click.

You bounced his words around in your head, pulling the meaning out of every single one. He doesn’t want to lie to you, so that means…

“Don’t make me lie to you.” He moved closer—so close that you could smell his cigarettes and soap. You caught yourself checking his neck for any hickeys and his shirt collar for any lipstick. Nothing.

“Javier…” You shook your head. “What am I gonna do?” you cried, covering your face. “I don’t want to have feelings for you. Why can’t you make this easy for me?”

“You know I can never make things easy for anyone.” He shrugged and smirked. “I wanna see how this goes even if it isn’t easy.”

You moved your hands away from your eyes and looked at him. “See how what goes?”

He pointed at you, then back at himself. “Us.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You hugged yourself tighter.

“Look, I know you don’t trust me, and I don’t blame you, but I want to prove that I can change…”

“Javi, I can’t let you fuck around with my feelings. I can’t.” Tears filled your eyes, and Javi approached you, bringing his hands up to cup your cheeks. “I should fucking hate you.”

He just looked at you, wiping your tears away. You closed your eyes and took in his warmth. The room’s coolness was fading into heat only Javier Peña brought with him.

“I wouldn’t blame you for hating me, but I know you don’t,” he said.

“You are so fucking cocky, Peña,” you scoffed. “If we’re gonna do this, you gotta be mine and mine only. That means this…” You reached down and cupped his dick through his tight jeans. “…belongs to me.”

He grunted and swallowed hard. “Didn’t know you could…hm…could be so feisty.”

“I’m waiting for an answer,” you said, and he looked down at your hand before placing his hand over yours and pushing into it.

“It’s yours.” He looked up at you again. “Is it hot in here?” he asked, and you nodded.

Then you were kissing him, pushing him back to the sofa until the backs of his knees hit it, and he fell onto it.

“Wanna see feisty?” you asked as you pulled off your shirt, revealing that you weren’t wearing a thing under it.

“Well…fuck…,” he said in shock. You straddled and kissed him again as his hand snaked between your legs and found your wet cunt. “That for me?” he asked.

“You tell me,” you teased.

“Being angry at me turns you on?” he asked. “I gotta make you angry more often.”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Peña,” you warned. He slipped two fingers into you, and you gasped.

“What’s my name?” He pumped his fingers slowly.

“P-Peña…”

“Wrong answer.” He stopped moving his fingers. “What’s my name?” He pressed his thumb to your clit.

“Javi! Fuck, Javi!”

“That’s better.” He continued finger fucking you as you unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. It was a bit of a struggle getting his stiff cock out of the confines of his tight jeans, but you finally did with a bit of help from him.

“Can’t have til you cum,” he told you, pumping his fingers faster and rubbing your clit firmly. “All over my fucking fingers.”

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!” you cried, coming undone with just a few flicks of his wrist.

“Good girl. Now you can have your dick.”

You glared at him before looking down and grabbing his dick. You spat on it and stroked him as you sat on your knees to line him up. You sank on him slowly.

“Fucking…tight…” he said through his teeth.

You rode him slowly, loving the feeling of his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass.

“If you thought I was going anywhere after getting pussy this good, you were wrong.” He kissed along your chin as you whimpered at his words. “Is it mine?” he asked in your ear before biting the lobe.

“Yeah,” you moaned. Somehow you knew that it had always been. “But you better not break my fucking heart,” you told him before running your fingers through his thick hair and pulling. He hissed and thrust up into you hard.

“Never. I swear,” he breathed before kissing you deeply. He pulled away to groan loudly. “Gonna cum.”

“Do it, Javi. For me.”

He spanked your ass; you rode him harder. He grunted with each thrust, then held you against him as he moaned your name. You could feel him fill you. He was lost in the moment—eyes half-lidded, kissing and nibbling along your jaw, whispering sweet nothings.

Hot. So hot.

“Always wanted you,” he said in a husky tone.

You pulled back and looked at him. “You mean that?”

“Yeah.” He smiled lazily. God, he was so handsome. And he was yours.

Yours.

[thechaoscryptid]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. spread the self-love ❤

Thanks for thinking of me, nonnie 🥰 This was actually a lot harder than I thought it was going to be, picking 5?? It was a good excercise in remembering I actually do like a lot of my past catalogue lmfao

The summaries got kinda long and I also wanted to do a little commentary on each so I'm gonna put the full post under a cut but the short list is:

Singularity (Shigadabi)

i've looked for love in every stranger (to get to you) (Sylvix)

Hello, My Name Is Human (Odazai)

Divinity (Matchablossom)

Blur (Sheith)

Singularity | ShigaDabi | General

Alpha Arietis dies in a brilliant storm, spraying billions of years’ worth of accumulated gas and matter through the cosmos as it collapses in on itself. Great fingers of dust reach toward the endless abyss, and cradled in the palm of the cooling nebula, a godling sleeps. His heart is white-hot and aching, all the pain of his progenitor’s end pulsing through him as he curls in on himself. The gazes of the other gods weigh heavily on him as the universe swims into focus. Their whispers ripple across galaxies to wash over his still-tender form, awakening in him an anger that beams into the darkness as his eyes open, twin crimson spheres cutting through the endless night.

This was such a fun style experiment!! I wrote it for a zine and it was by far the shortest fic bc I decided to go with the dialogue-less option; it felt better suited to the space vibe.

I looked up so many astronomy facts for this too, which was fun bc I'm a bit of a space bitch (even though I probably fucked it all up for the ~narrative~ lmao). Did you know! Beta Capricorni, one of the stars in Capricorn (Dabi's sign and mine - we share a birthday, and it is my favorite BNHA factoid), is commonly known as Dabih, derived from an Arabic legend saying Beta Capricorni and Alpha Capricorni, aka Algedi, were "the lucky stars of a slaughterer."

I really really want to dive further into the concept of gods being birthed from dying stars at some point - there's so much I didn't get to in this fic just bc of limits and themes and such, but I think it's fucking cool even if it's not popular.

i've looked for love in every stranger (to get to you) | Sylvix | Explicit

“Yeah. Listen, Fe, I’m sor—” “Don’t,” Felix says. When Sylvain opens his mouth to protest, Felix cuts him off. “Seriously, don’t. I don’t want your apologies.” Sylvain arches a brow. “I just want you—” (And oh, those words on their own are nearly enough to unwind that barbed wire, but somehow it hurts worse knowing it’s not what Felix really means.) “—to be better.” Felix takes a deep breath, turns to the kitchen counter, and fiddles for a second too long with the tabs on the pizza boxes. “I hate watching you hurt yourself.”

Man, where do I start with this one. I picked at this fic for over a year and a half before deciding to finish it for a bang, and I'm so happy about how it turned out. One theme that shows up a lot in my writing is "love is an action and a choice," and I think this fic showcases that beautifully.

Sylvain's so fucked up here and I love him so much. This timestamp from the middle of a breakdown and subsequent guilt about said breakdown just...really hits home. And Felix being there - CHOOSING to remain there - through that one and all previous ones? clenches fist They're in love, your honor.

I just think it's important to show that being kind of a shitty person doesn't preclude you from being loved, nor should it.

Hello, My Name Is Human | Odazai | Mature

“No need for sorry,” Oda says, the words automatic. “That’s not your place.” It’s the wrong thing to say, comes out nothing like he’d intended. Dazai flinches as though he’s been shot, curling up into himself and away from Oda before scrambling to his feet. There’s no easy grace in his movements today, only a quick, jerky retreat before Oda comes to his senses and darts after him. He wraps a hand around Dazai’s forearm to tug him back, and there’s nothing but rawness in Dazai’s eye when he turns around. “Let me go,” he says icily. “It’s not your place.”  “Dazai.” “Fuck off,” Dazai mutters, shrugging Oda’s hand away. “I’ll go die alone, then. In my place.” “Hey,” Oda says, soft as anything as Dazai’s turned half away. He holds his palms out, the same way he would for a stray or lost child. Dazai takes a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry,” he continues. “Your place-” “An executive doesn’t have a place,” Dazai says. “A weapon doesn’t need one.”

This was the spiritual precursor to in the morning i'll be with you, and upon rereading, I realized I wrote pretty much the same fic twice 😅 There's just something that hits EVERY time about softness in the face of bluntness about doing and wanting terrible things. I chose this one instead of in the morning because of one of the places the two fics diverge, actually.

In this fic, Oda actually says "I love you" to Dazai and Dazai does not take it well, and it feels important to me that not every I love you is received with an equally passionate "omg I love you too." But like I said for the Sylvix above, it's also important that it's expressed, even if it hurts or isn't received or reciprocated.

Divinity | MatchaBlossom | Explicit

“I don’t need anyone,” Kaoru whispers. He’s always been good at making bad decisions when it comes to Kojiro; this is another in a long line of failures and he’s not willing to admit yet that maybe Adam fucked him up past the point of no return. “It’s fine,” he mumbles when he hears Kojiro shifting. He’s too afraid to watch him walk away. “You can just go.” And instead of leaving, Kojiro shuffles forward and hugs him. Kaoru is surrounded by impossibly gentle arms and the scent of pine, and though he’s used to the latter, he hasn’t been touched like this in a long, long time. “I’m not going to go,” Kojiro says softly. His face is buried in Kaoru’s shoulder, lips warm where they brush across his skin. “I’d say sorry, but I’m not, Kaoru. I don’t want to.”

God this fic actually kickstarted my writing motor after being really burnt out and plateaued on skill for a while. While it's not my most technically skilled fic (I don't think any on this list are, tbh?), it was fun to write and it's still fun to read.

I loved being able to take a softer turn with Kaoru's anxiety as opposed to some of the harder mental health issues I'm used to expressing in my writing. And Matchablossom were really just out there on screen being Like That at all moments, huh? Their dynamic is just such a joy to play with, whether it's softer like this or harder like some of my other SK8 fics.

Blur | Sheith | Mature

“Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve made of myself, and it still isn’t enough. You know they always said shoot for the stars? I didn’t just shoot, Shiro, I helped save those stars. Where is there to go from there? There’s no coming back down to Earth after you’ve seen realities collapse around you. There’s no normal.” “It doesn’t need to be normal,” Shiro says. “I WANT normal!” Keith’s chest heaves, throat raw with the force of his insistence as his truth is birthed into the world. Twenty-five years’ worth of longing shake themselves loose from inside him and when they bleed out, so does his energy. He sinks to his knees, shaking as he repeats the words again and again. “I want normal. I want to be normal, Shiro, why can’t I be normal?”

This fic is just 9k of me bleeding my truth onto the screen, I'll be real (it should also be stated my self-destructive behaviors aren't physically harmful, that's artistic license). It hurt to write and it hurts to reread bc not much has changed in the years since I wrote it, but it's good, and I stand by the rawness of the narration. Dealing with a personality disorder and suicidal ideation (especially unmedicated and without therapy - bitches be rawdogging reality and I'm bitches) fucking blows. It's exhausting, and it makes you feel inhuman.

This scene especially knocked a few realizations loose for me, bc I don't remember writing it; my head just shut off, and then I looked at the page and went "ah. Oh dear. This feels like something I need to unpack, huh." And here we are, several years later, still unpacking lmao

[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​

[mcuwritin]

Break ins and kisses

Yelena Belova x fem!reader

genre: fluff

words: 3.4k

warnings: swearing, guns, knives

Masterlist

Moving was never easy for you. You always become to anxious about the whole thing, and end up forgetting to mark the boxes or mixing up the apartments.

So after two days of moving away to yet another apartment, you were finally done with the countless boxes. You tiredly sat down on the floor to catch a breath, when you noticed a woman lingering at your doorstep. She was leaning on the doorway, her hands in the pockets of her jacket. Your breath hitched when you met her piercing green eyes. She looked you up and down, and then her eyes wandered around your apartment, looking over the windows and doorways. Her eyes landed back on you and she gestured for you to come closer. You blindly followed, not thinking twice about it.

But then she put a gun to your head and you were screwed. "Who sent you?" She growled right into your face, her eyes darting between your eyes and the entrance.

"My... mom?" You hesitated, kind of terrified of the gun rubbing against your temple, but also kind of not bothered that much. If you were to die by the hands of this gorgeous woman...

Well, that would be a cool way to die.

"Your mom?" She inquired, taking a step back.

Your mom did sent you away a couple years ago, complaining about how you are an adult and you should have your own place. "Um, yeah? I guess I annoyed her too much. What's with the gun? You're paranoid or something?" You eyed the gun still clutched tightly in her hand. Maybe it's not the best time to joke around.

"Are you insane?" She tucked the gun in her belt. "Don't you have some basic self-preservation instinct?" She grumbled, slipping into an accent. Russian, you assumed.

"You're the one who was holding a gun to my head and you're asking me if I'm insane?" You huffed, walking back to unpack your clothes.

"Why are you angry?" She trailed behind you, almost colliding into you, when you suddenly stopped.

"Because you put me through a traumatic experience!" She rolled her eyes at that. "You're putting me through a traumatic experience now." She huffed, before giving your apartment one last look and turning around to leave, gently closing the door behind her.

You had to pinch yourself to make sure you didn't just dream that whole exchange.

---

A month later you were walking home after work through the park, when you heard someone quickly approaching you from behind, followed by familiar voice. "Fanny, NO!" The person shouted before you were thrown to the ground, a dog landing on top of you.

"Hey." You grumbled, causing the do- causing Fanny to tilt her head curiously to the side. She gave your face a long lick, before settling down to lay on your stomach.

"I'm so sorry." The woman finally caught up and your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"You!" Scrambling to your feet you marched over to her. You may have forgiven her for the whole gun thing, but now this is getting out of hand. "What the fuck?" You pushed her in the shoulder, but she didn't even budge.

"Are you following me?" She asked, furrowing her eyebrows. The nerve of that woman.

"Your dog just attacked me and you're asking if I'm following you?"

"Attacked you? She just wanted a hug!"

You threw your hands in the air. "And now my ass is bruised." That made a smirk appear on her face. "Do you want me to kiss it better?" She suggested, already making her way closer to you. You stumbled back, not giving her a chance to touch you. "I can't deal with this today."

---

You were throwing out the trash, when you saw her returning from a walk with Fanny. She didn't see you, too focused on opening the door, so you took your chance and snuck up behind her, letting out a loud Boo.

She almost jumped out of her skin at the sound, and before you could say hello you were pinned to the wall. You stayed silent, observing her as she calmed her breathing, but didn't let you go, only tightening her hold when she noticed you staring. "You're lucky I don't have my knife with me." She looked at you one last time before taking a step back, allowing you to take a breath, which you didn't even know you were holding. "Thought I'll get my revenge on you." You joked, trying to ease the tension.

She sent you a measuring look before a smile tugged at her lips. "You did scare the shit out of me." She laughed, finally opening the door. "I would ask you to come in, but I don't want to. Bye." Your mouth opened in shock at her blatant rudeness.

She tried to hold a serious expression, but failed when she saw you got upset. "Kidding. My place is a mess and I have a feeling, that my sister is actually hiding in my closet as we speak. Next time?"

---

The next time you saw her you were baking pies in the kitchen of your cafe. She barged in through the back entrance, her eyes darting around before settling on you. "I need you to hide me." She didn't look surprised to see you here, simply jumping up to sit on the counter and stealing a muffin. You took notice of the disheveled state she was in, her clothes were crumbled and her usually impeccable hair fell down her shoulders in tangled waves.

"Do you have a stalker?" You asked her the first thing that came to your mind. That would explain her reaction to you when you first met, and her apprehension on your second meeting, and the third... You failed to notice her amused expression and continued your line of thought. "Because if you do, I can help. I know Krav Maga." You finished, hearing her let out a giggle. You looked up to see her eyes sparkling from amusement and you would never admit it to anyone, but you never seen anyone as beautiful as her.

"It's just a part of my job. No need to worry." She explained, still munching on a muffin, her feet dangling back and forth. "This is really good." She spoke with a full mouth. You wondered what kind of job she had, but let it go, when you noticed that she was now completely focused on the food.

"You want some tea or coffee?" You took pity on her, offering a drink.

"I don't want you to get in trouble with your boss." She looked shy for the first time since you met her, hopping off the counter and wiping her hands on the towel.

"I'm the boss." You said, your cheeks reddening at her impressed look. "You can have whatever you want." Her gaze lingered on you for a moment, before turning to look a the cherry pie.

"You can have it." You offered, turning back to check on the oven. You didn't see her shifting from one foot to another, seemingly preparing herself for something.

"Hey, Y/n, can I have that can of whipped cr-" She trailed off when she noticed your expression. "What's wrong?"

"I never told you my name." You squinted your eyes in suspicion.

"I asked our landlord." She smiled. "I'm Yelena, by the way."

It was long after she left, when you remembered that your landlord is Tony Stark and how the hell does she know him?

When you came home from work, there was a basket full of sweets and fruits waiting at your doorstep. The next day you came home to apartment full of gun shaped balloons. You didn't even want to ask how she got into your apartment, simply appreciating the effort.

It went on for over a week, each day you came back to a different surprise waiting for you, and in return, you always left the best pies for Yelena.

"Aren't you going to say something?" She invited herself over tonight, claiming she can't stand to watch a movie alone, and seeing as you're the only adequate neighbour, she had no other chance, but to grace you with her presence.

"About what?"

"My pranks."

"What pranks?"

"What pranks? I've been doing them for almost two weeks! Don't act dumb, you tried to bribe me with your pies."

"Those were pranks?" You erupted with laughter. Every time you came home you thought it was a nice surprise, but apparently, Yelena had something else in mind. "Oh my God, you're adorable."

"I'm not adorable. I'm a menace."

---

After that she came over whenever she wasn't busy with her job. Treating you to Ukrainian food and making you watch Svaty with her. You didn't complain, you loved learning things about her.

And she did too, but in a more subtle way. You don't think you ever said anything about your favourite restaurant, but she still managed to bring your favourite dish from there.

And invite you to your favourite artist's concert.

But there were days when she was too busy to spend time with you or she could disappear for weeks and you missed her.

She left a week ago and you spent all of your free time sulking on the couch, watching TV and chewing on sweets she left for you.

You were getting ready to sleep, when a thought hit you.

You might be a little in love with her.

----

Next morning she broke into your apartment through the window, a bottle of wine in one hand and takeout in the other. "Missed me?" She hopped off the windowsill, taking off her shoes before plopping beside you on the couch.

It was Saturday, and you spent all morning thinking about her. "I was enjoying your absence, actually." You pushed her thigh with your foot.

"Is that why you're wearing my hoodie?" She pointed out.

"Whatever." You mumbled, while she put on a movie for you to watch. You tried hard to act normal, but you couldn't help stealing occasional glances, which she thankfully didn't notice. Or so you thought.

"Who's your favourite Avenger?" She caught you gaze abruptly, pausing the movie and turning her body to face you. "Black Widow." You answered with no hesitation.

"Which one?" She anxiously bit her lip, waiting for your response.

"There's more than one?"

You saw her face fall at your words and a pout took over her features. She huffed and turned around, putting a pillow as a barrier between you. "I won't speak with you until you educate yourself."

So you took your phone and turned to Google.

Two seconds into your search and you see a picture of Yelena staring back at you. You gulped, turning to look at Yelena only to see her already watching you. "You're an Avenger."

"How nice of you to catch up."

"That's a nice vest you have." You pointed at the picture, causing her eyes to light up again. "It's so cool, right?"

---

Your were woken up at the crack of dawn by the loud pounding on your door. You quickly went to the kitchen to grab a knife and then opened the door, putting the knife in front of unimpressed Yelena.

"I have something for you." She walked inside, chewing on some M&Ms, Fanny trailed behind her. "Want some?" She offered.

"It's three in the morning, Yelena." You yawned, rubbing your eyes, after you put the knife away.

"Right, sorry." She apologized, before taking a gun out of her duffel bag. "It's for you."

You blinked at the offered item before looking up to see Yelena's tentative smile.

"Why would I need a gun?"

"I'm leaving for a while and I need to leave Fanny here, with you?" She hesitated, before seeing your reassuring nod. "And, you know, Fanny's really important to me, so you need to be able to protect her in case something happens, so... Yeah, um. Just keep it close, okay?" She rambled, shoving the gun into your hand and proceeded to explain to you how to get it off the safety, before showing you how to use it.

"You need to hold it with both of your hands." She came to stand behind you, her hands wrapping around yours to show you how to hold a gun.

You felt your ears turn red from the closure. The thing is - you know how to shoot a gun, you're actually a pretty good shot, but something stopped your from saying that to Yelena. "Like this?" You asked, purposely fumbling with a gun.

She pulled you even closer, breathing down your neck. "More steady. Just like that." She corrected you, her hands moving down to your hips. "You need to spread your legs a bit." She nudged your thigh with her knee.

"I think I got it." You mumbled, feeling hot all over your body. Not embarrassed for your little lie though.

She reluctantly pulled away, turning you around by your shoulders. "Be safe, okay? And don't be afraid to use it."

And then you were pulled into a hug. You were surprised at first. Even if Yelena tended to touch you a lot and keep you close, she was never a hugger. But now she was holding you impossibly close, her nose nuzzling in the crook of your neck. The motion woke you up from the stupor and your hands reached to hold her.

You don't know how long you stood there, swaying in the middle of the kitchen, but you you didn't want to ever let her go.

"I... I'll be late, if I don't go now." She whispered, not moving away from you.

"When will you come back?" You asked, playing with the hair at the nape of her neck.

"If I'm lucky, I'll be back in a month." She pulled away and took a step away from you. "If I'm not, I could be gone for more than a year." You gasped at her words, searching her eyes for a trace of a lie, hoping it was one of her harmless pranks, but she remained serious.

"Don't go anywhere while I'm gone, okay?" She had a strange look in her eyes, like she was contemplating something in her mind.

"I don't think I'll be able to leave Fanny behind." You assured her, pulling her into a quick hug for a good measure.

"Good luck." You whispered when she finally started walking out, facing you.

She smiled.

And then she was gone.

---

It's been three weeks since she left for the mission and you didn't know what to do with yourself. She's never been away for so long and you have no idea when you became so dependent on her.

You became snappy and moody, even ignored the lady from downstairs, when she offered you some soup (which you apologized about two minutes later, immediately feeling guilty).

And you never let your phone out of sight, hoping to see a message from Yelena.

It never came.

Your friends noticed the sudden change in you, tried to find out the reason for it, but you couldn't exactly tell them that you fell in love with an Avenger.

You weren't the only one who's been miserable without Yelena. Fanny's been whiny, and sometimes she even refused to go for a walk, tilting her head in the direction of Yelena's apartment. You found out what the gesture meant on the 9th day of your misery, when Fanny led you out of your own apartment to Yelena's.

You'd followed her, and when she hopped on Yelena's bed, snuggling in the covers, you followed suit, knowing that Yelena would be okay with you being in her space.

It seems today is one of these days, since Fanny is practically dragging you across the hall.

You didn't get the chance to open the door yourself, when it was yanked open and you were pinned to a wall, a gun pressed to your temple. Again.

"Who are you?" The voice belong to Natasha Romanoff, who was glaring daggers at you. Your opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out.

"Who are you?" She repeated, now eyeing the keys clutched in your hand.

"Y/n, I'm Yelena's... friend." Realization dawned her eyes.

"It's nice to finally meet you." She tucked the gun away, taking extra time to eye you up and down, seemingly measuring you up. Then she nodded to herself, turning to head to the kitchen. "Want some tea?"

"Sure."

And that's how you met the OG Black Widow. You'll never call her that in front of Yelena though.

---

She became an unstably stable friend of yours. Dropping by your cafe once a week, and going for walks with you and Fanny. She never told you anything about Yelena's mission, claiming it was top secret information.

She's been gone for three months now, and you came to realisation, that Yelena might not come back as soon as you hoped she would. You voiced you fear to Natasha once and she tried her best to reassure you, but you could see the worry behind her eyes.

Sometimes she took Fanny back to the compound with her, claiming it was for training purposes, but you knew she'll sleep better with Fanny by her side, a piece of Yelena with her.

Today was one of those days. She came a few hours earlier to watch a movie with you, staying late into the night to discuss the characters and the storyline. It was already past midnight, when she left, Fanny excitedly running to her car.

You were putting away wine glasses, when you heard it. Someone was trying to pick the locks on your door. Someone really good, because you could barely hear the movement, and if you were asleep, you for sure wouldn't.

Your mind went straight to the gun Yelena left you. It was tucked away in the drawer of your nightstand, and if you ran fast enough, you could get it before the person behind the door walked in.

You barely had enough time to hide behind the closet after you successfully retrieved the gun, when the person walked in the bedroom, their steps quick and quiet.

You sprung into action as soon as they reached the closet, turning the hooded person around to pin them to the closet, your gun pressed against their stomach.

Your other hand went to remove the hood and you immediately jumped away, when you saw Yelena's amazed face staring at you.

"Wow." She breathed out, her cheeks reddening slightly. "Just... Wow."

Your heart skipped a beat, when she took a step towards you and pulled you in a bone-crushing hug, nuzzling her face just behind your ear.

"You have no idea how much I missed you." She tightened her hold on you even more. You squeezed her waist in response, too overwhelmed with emotions to say anything.

"Won't ever let you go. We'll have to grow old together right on this spot." You laughed at her words, tears trailing down your cheeks.

"I don't mind." You croaked out. She pulled away to wipe your tears, her slightly calloused hands cupping your face. "I know I never ask before I do something, but I have to now." You nodded, confused.

"Can I kiss you?" She whispered, her nose brushing against yours. "Please, can I?"

You didn't give her an answer, pulling her into a gentle kiss instead, your lips moving against hers with so much love and care it made her shudder.

"I wanted to do that for so long." You confessed, when you pulled apart to catch a breath.

"I'll never stop kissing you now." She chuckled, trailing soft kisses from the corners of your mouth up to your jaw to place one right behind your ear. "Good." You breathed out, when her lips moved down your throat, her kisses becoming sloppy.

You pulled her head up to face you, giving her a loving peck, before taking a step back, her body following your movement. "I can see how tired you are, you should rest." You tried to reason with her, but she was having none of it, locking your lips in a demanding kiss.

"I told you, I won't let you go." She rasped between the kisses.

"We can cuddle." You offered, nodding to your bed. Her eyes lit up at your offer, and she picked you up to carry you to bed.

---

When you told the Avengers the story of how you two met for the first time (and the second one, and the third), they couldn't stop laughing for thirty minutes.

_________________________________________

Feedback is appreciated 💕

I kinda wanted to end this on the and then she was gone line 🤫

[mandu-17]

Strawberry and cream | Choi Tzuyu x reader

Requested by: anonymous

Request: Hello! I really love your blog! Can I request a soulmate AU( in which the kiss of a soul mate always has some flavor (strawberries, mint, etc.) while the kiss with another person remains a common kiss.) with Twice Tzuyu, wherein Tzuyu is school's a bad girl and the reader is a new transferred student

Warnings: maybe a curseword or two

Genre: Soulmate AU, fluff

Wordcount: ~ 1,624

A/N: thank you so much for kind words anon<3 this was such a cool request so for that also thank you! hopefully you'll like this:)

Starting over was never easy and even though you've dealt with it many times before, it only seemed to be getting worse. Due to your parents work, your family often had to move all around the world. Some could say it was an awesome opportunity to visit many places and meet new people, but to you it was getting tiring. You had enough of packing and unpacking or making friendships, that lasted only a few months. It felt like there was no point in adapting anymore, since soon you’ll probably be on your way somewhere else. So this time, you decided to focus only on studying.

For most of your classes, it was pretty easy to do your best and listen to the teachers. Except for maths in which your bench mate is one and only Choi Tzuyu. Neither of you asked for it. It just so happened that her table was the only empty spot on your first day, meanwhile Tzuyu was late for class, as every other time.

You vividly remember everyone’s concerned stares on you, the second Tzuyu walked in. Honestly speaking, you kind of expected her to beat you up as well, judging by the stern look on her face. Instead she eyed you curiously and smirked to herself, before sitting down next you.

That day she didn’t speak a word, yet she had your whole attention. Maybe it was the way she was simply sitting so nonchalantly, not even pretending to listen to the teacher. Maybe it was the way her clothes hugged her body so well or maybe the way she kept stealing glances at you every few minutes.

Once the period was over, Tzuyu left in a speed of a lightning. Slowly gathering your things and planning on to heading to the cafeteria, you heard a voice from behind.

“You’re so lucky she didn’t kick you out of here. Tzuyu only lets her friends sit with her.”

Turning around, you were met with a black-haired girl, analyzing your face carefully, as if deep in thoughts.

“Well there was no other empty table, so both of us had no choice.” You responded bluntly, not really wanting to get more involved in that conversation.

“Right, you’re new here.” She chuckled, following you out of the classroom. “Choi Tzuyu doesn’t care about anything. There’s literally nothing she gives a fuck about. So her letting you sit by her table means something.”

And what’s so interesting about it, you thought with a frown.

“Look, just like you said, I’m new here and guess what, I don’t care about her or frankly speaking, anyone else here. So don't bother yourself, I'm good." You replied with attitude, before leaving.

Maybe you were a little too harsh, judging by the confused look on the girl's face, although that didn't matter to you. You only had one goal which definitely wasn't getting involved in any school drama.

Unfortunately, even your math teacher was against you. As soon as he announced that your next assignment is a project in pairs with your bench mate, you knew you were doomed. Considering how Tzuyu was never working in class, it was obvious that you were going to be the one doing all the work. Partly, it was a good solution, you didn't have to spend time with her, although her reaction was unexpected.

"You free this Friday?" She turned to you with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes." You looked at her unsure.

"I'll meet you at the cafe at 6. Sounds good, partner?" From the lazy smile tugging on her lips, you could already imagine all kinds of rumours spreading about the two of you later on.

Why on earth was it Tzuyu who was assigned to you.

Although, for some odd reason you didn't feel uncomfortable or scared to work with her. Through your time at school, you've learnt that Tzuyu was never really that vulgar or aggressive. Her looks were always enough to make the other person know how she felt about them. When it came to teachers, Tzuyu just knew the right people, who usually got her anything she wanted. Rarely had she to directly speak or argue, which gave her so much power in everybody's eyes. Once she did speak though, it was almost always to nearly destroy others.

Lots of mixed feelings and thoughts washed through you on your way to the cafe that day. You were very curious about how your evening with Tzuyu will go.

“Hey, partner.” She greeted you with a smug smile, while checking you out shamelessly.

In response, you rolled your eyes and huffed, after taking a sit across from her. You also found it kind of unexpected that she was the one already waiting for you.

“You know, I think the atmosphere here could be nicer if you actually did respond to me.” One of her long eyebrows raised slightly, as she kept toying with the straw of her drink.

“There’s absolutely no need for that. The only thing I want is to get this project done so I can go home.” You smiled sarcastically, while putting out books and notes.

“And what are you gonna do at home? Watch netflix on your own?” Tzuyu frowned and your eyes finally met.

She must have seen in your face that her comment wasn’t well received.

“What I mean is that I can clearly see how you don’t get involved with anyone at school. I thought about it a lot, but in the end I just don’t get it. Why are you so distant?”

That surprised you.

You’d never expect Choi Tzuyu to study you so deeply. All you really thought of her was that she was very hot, never hesitated to speak her mind and didn’t care about anything. Yet, here she was confronting you about such personal things.

“You wouldn’t understand anyways.” You mumbled, eyes looking down at a fidgeting pair of hands, which seconds later was joined by a warm, soft one.

“Maybe not, but I’m sure you’d feel better letting it out.” Tzuyu squeezed your hand.

Her dark eyes were filled with kindness, as they were set on you. All of the sudden, your throat felt dry. It was the first time you saw this side of Tzuyu and from what you assumed it wasn’t often that she was this nice to others. Somehow this thought managed to calm you down a little.

The whole time you were talking and explaining why you gave up on making friends and bonding with people, Tzuyu held and caressed your hand gently. It was such a surreal moment. To have your annoyingly attractive and rebellious bench mate listen to your concerns in a café.

When you finished, Tzuyu took some time to find the right words, before speaking again.

“It must be really hard to live like this. I’m sorry to hear that. Although if I were you, I wouldn’t push everyone away. Actually, I’d do the opposite and try to make as many good memories as possible. Loneliness sucks a lot, I’m sure you've noticed it as well.”

“It’s just I have no idea how long I’m even going to stay here.” You shook your head sadly.

The girl in front of you nodded in understanding. It looked like she did care.

“Thank you. For listening, I mean. As you said, it’s better to let it all out sometimes.” A small smile spread on her face at your words.

“I’m glad I could be any help.” Tzuyu said quietly, eyes looking away coyly.

At that sight, you just had to smile yourself. Never would you guess that school’s bad girl was going to suddenly act this shy.

“How about we finally focus on the project?” You offered, not wanting to fluster the girl anymore.

At her firm nod, both of you got consumed by assignments and calculations. Surprisingly, working with Tzuyu went very smoothly. She was way smarter than anyone gave her credit.

At some point, you began to wonder about what else she will surprise you with. And for that, you didn’t have to wait long, since the taller girl insisted on walking you home. On the way, the two of you kept chatting about school, your hobbies outside of it and everything else that came into your minds.

You felt confused, as to why talking to Tzuyu was so easy and comforting. You glanced at her to find the girl looking ahead and talking about traditional holidays in Taiwan.

“What?” She stopped mid-sentence and asked amused.

“I don’t know. I just can’t help, but feel good around you and I don’t know where it comes from.” You frowned, confused with your own actions.

Why were you even telling her that?

“Oh, Y/N. I think I know why, I just have to make sure.” Tzuyu smiled, as if she won a lottery, while cupping your face gently. “Will you let me?”

Your eyes widened at the proximity, when she leaned in. Her forehead resting against yours and you knew what she meant. Although you found it hard to believe.

Your nod was enough for her to close the distance and meet your lips in a soft kiss. She tasted like a sweet strawberry on a summer evening. And due to drinks both of you had earlier, the flavor of the kiss was even nicer.

"That's unbelievable." You pulled away breathless, in shock.

"Yeah, kinda surprising." Tzuyu smiled warmly at you and it felt like your heart stopped beating.

She really was beautiful. Even more up close.

"Do you like strawberries?" Tall girl asked teasingly.

"Never been a fan, but I guess I can get used to it."

Two can play this game, you thought with a grin.

[celestialarchon]

400+ Followers Celebration!

various genshin impact x f!reader

warnings: fluff/crack/NSFW implications, jokes and innuendos. reverse Isekai storyline and a LOT of attention on reader. SPOILERS FOR IN GAME. Archon spoilers!

As much as you tried, connecting and staying in reality was too hard. It was always the same outcome, finding yourself whisked away to another fantasy land through media. Normally your obsessions didn’t last long, but one game had completely sucked you in. Maybe it was the stress of the nightmare year 2020 or maybe it was the fact that Genshin Impact was everything you loved and more, but you couldn’t get enough. It was getting out of hand as even your roommates had began to play because of the way you romanticized the game. Acquiring most of the five star characters, building several strong teams, and finishing almost all the quests in roughly 5 months.

As an insomniac, it was easy to grind through the game until the sun came up. Sometimes you wondered if it was strange that an adult would be so enamored with a game but shrugged it off. It’d been a hellish year, you deserved to treat yourself.

Yet another night spent entirely on the dreamy land of Teyvat. You yawned and stretched as the sun peaked through the blinds and cursed yourself for not noticing the passing time. Removing your head set, you yawned again, feeling a wave of drowsiness wash over you. It was strange, you’d only been up one night and you were already so tired. Your home was quiet, all the roommates sound asleep as you crept into your bed under the covers. The stuffie you adored so much was soon in your arms as you drifted off, wishing to dream of traveling the world of Teyvat.

An extremely loud crashing sound woke you from your deep sleep. Instinctively you shot up, your arm moved on its own aiming for the space around you and swinging quickly and forcefully. Your fist made contact with something and you shrieked as the strange shadow crumpled. You flew out of your bed and away from the safety of your covers, grasping for the light switch.

Your panicked screeches only grew louder as the figure on the floor groaned and stood upright, still fumbling for the lights. Fingertips finally brushed the switch on the wall and you flipped the lights on. The sudden brightness blinded you for a minute and the mystery person as well. It hit you how stupid it was to turn on the lights in your room as soon as your eyes adjusted. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins as you rushed to the door. You could hear heavy footsteps from the other room. Other people were home you needed to get to them.

“Shiiiiit,” The strange person groaned again, “I drank too much.”

The voice was familiar and made you freeze for a moment. Mentally slapping yourself you darted out of your room but ran straight into a wall. Well, that’s what it felt like, but there wasn’t a wall outside your door. The force of the collision knocked you on your ass and you yelped as you hit the floor.

“Oh? What’s this?” The supposed wall turned to look at you, eyebrows arched as he stared down at you.

Your jaw nearly hit the floor as you looked up at the familiar man. That smooth voice, the long hair, the eyepatch. This had to be some sort of weird dream. No matter how hard you tried to move, your body wouldn’t obey. You heard steps from behind you and glanced back to see another Mondstadt troublemaker. A disgruntled anemo archon was slowly approaching you.

“Ehe, fuck, she hit me hard.” Venti giggled nervously.

“Poor thing,” Kaeya held his hand out to you, “Did the mean little twink scare you?”

The room was spinning, so you took the cryo pirate’s hand. Your jaw was probably still on the floor. His grip was strong and cool, it was bringing you back down to the reality of the situation you were in. Oh, the irony. You were not dreaming. Awestruck, you peered behind Kaeya into your living room to see even more Genshin characters just vibing. The esteemed geo archon was drinking from your favorite mug, two troublesome harbingers bickered in the corner of the room, a certain librarian was flipping through your books, both travelers were attempting to learn how to play uno. It was unreal. A pirate was flirting with a silver haired beauty.There was an astrologist examining your fish tank, an alchemist and a child terrorist asleep on your floor, and a fucking adeptus perched on your couch like a gargoyle.

Your roommates were nowhere in sight and your home was crowded by your fictional lovers. The absolute chaos of it all sent you over the edge. High pitched, clearly unstable laughter erupted from you. What else could you do? Cry? That wouldn’t change anything. All eyes shifted to you as you leaned on the wall, clutching your abdomen and giggling like a madwoman. Kaeya shifted away from you, allowing the others to get a good look at you.

Finally composing yourself, you stood up straight and introduced yourself, “Hello, why are you invading my home?”

“Hey girlie! I’m Childe,” The cheery harbinger nearly skipped up to you shaking your hand, “but you can call me daddy.”

Your face reddened at his bold introduction but you clicked your tongue avoiding his eyes.

“Hello, cutie. I’m Lisa.”

“Albedo, and this is Klee.”

“I tend to go by Zhongli.”

“Beidou! The lovely lady by my side is Ningguang.”

“Adeptus Xiao.”

They all introduced themselves so politely, you almost felt bad for acting a bit crazy. However, that feeling was quickly swept away by Kaeya and his sharp tongue.

“Kaeya, but I believe you already know that,” he smirked at you, “May I ask why you aren’t wearing any pants?”

“Oi, what?” You looked down and gasped.

Venti’s drunk ass had sent you into fight and flight mode so you had forgotten all about your night time attire. You were in an oversized Genshin Impact shirt without any pants on. Shoving Venti out of your way, you rushed to your room to dig for pants. Oh, how you wished you hadn’t forgotten about laundry. You hastily grabbed a pair of shorts that really didn’t do much except cover your underwear.

“I have shorts on now. You just can’t tell because of my shirt.” You declared entering the living room.

Some of the more promiscuous characters giggled at your embarrassment while Zhongli facepalmed and the most serious of them all, Scaramouche and Xiao, simply scowled. You sat on the end of your couch furthest from everybody else, nervous. Nobody had answered your earlier question. Apparently your discomfort was lost on the Adeptus Xiao, or he just didn’t care. He was in front of you in a flash, pinching your face and glaring at you.

“Why did you call us here you foolish mortal?” His tone was more annoyed than murderous.

Zhongli slapped Xiao’s hands away from your face and sat down next to you, “Be nice. She doesn’t know either.”

You nodded at this, and the room erupted in murmurs. Zhongli slipped his arm around you, patting your shoulder sympathetically. Lumine tossed the Uno cards down and glided to you, taking strands of your hair into her hands and beginning to play with it. Perhaps it’s because you played as both the travelers but the three of you seemed to silently click. Scaramouche and Childe began to argue again about something silly. Out of the corner of your eye you saw a certain bard and the charming Sir Kaeya raiding your liquor cabinet.

It was too overwhelming to argue. Lumine took her time playing with your hair while the others attempted to figure out how to go back to their own world. Xiao crept closer to you, truly like a cat. Beidou and Ningguang fawned over you and invited you into their relationship several times. You politely declined, knowing they’d have to go back to their world. It was disappointing and a bit frustrating.

Your wish came true but it was too good to be true. Albedo seemed to notice your silence. He gently maneuvered his adorable little sister off of him and approached you. His eyes were filled with curiosity, your silence only made his thoughts wander further.

“Can I experiment on you?” Albedo was blunt.

“Huh?” You blinked, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“I’m not sure if that was brave or stupid,” Childe snickered, “Has he always been this bold?”

“Tch,” Scaramouche rolled his eyes, “Thats a terrible pick up line, mad scientist.”

“Leave my cutie alone!” Lisa yanked Albedo away from you defensively.

The room was filled with protest at Lisa’s words. Zhongli merely sighed and pulled you closer. Venti’s dumb ass was floating around your living room hiccuping. Xiao was wedging himself between you and the arm of the couch. It was insane. Beidou and Ningguang noticed the two Liyue men snuggling up to you and marched over to the three of you.

Ningguang tried to pull you away from them while Beidou aggressively smacked at Xiao. Xiao was hissing at the beautiful captain and Zhongli was attempting to intervene. You shoved them out of your way and stood up, panicked by the attention. Lisa caught you as you tripped over your own feet but landed face first into her chest. She stroked your hair but was interrupted by Albedo grabbing your wrist and mumbling about experiments. The single moment Childe and Scaramouche got along was to pull you from Albedo but it became a quick tug of war over you.

Somehow, Klee was still asleep and Kaeya was just watching all of it go down.

“Cheeeeeeeeers, bitch bitches,” The Knight slurred.

“Enough.” Lumine and Aether both intervened.

Aether held his hand out to you, “You don’t have to pick now, but please say you’ll come with us?”

“You belong in Teyvat,” Lumine smiled at you warmly.

“So,” Aether continued “What do you say, outlander?”

All eyes were on you as the words left Aether’s lips. What would you do?

[punzywunzy]

Hello! I has request!! (Afab anatomy if you would)

So... I’m a huge Sam fan. And I was thinking, sitting in his lap and his hands are running up and down thighs and such while whispering dirty things in her ear, and telling reader to touch herself to his voice? This can be c!Sam cc!Sam I really dont mind either

dom!sam and sub!reader although I feel like that doesn’t need to be said...

haha sorry I just have a huge voice kink and i love any and all thighs

(also so sorry and it’s totally cool if u don’t want to but... can I get your opinion on my blog’s aesthetic? You don’t even need to read anything I promise just a rq glance)

「 Reward 」

pre a/n;

i like this request! when i have the motivation i’ll get right to writing it!

i also really love your blog’s aesthetic! pink and purple compliment and go together really nicely! man, i also love the title “euphoric madness”, it just sound so cool tbh-

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after a/n;

not the proudest of this one cause i feel as it goes by too quick- but i liked writing it :D

even though it took me like months-

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warning(s); dom/sub, degrading, some praise, lap grinding, voyeurism (masturbation), auralism/voice kink(?), slight size kink, sir & princess nickname

anatomy; afab (female!anatomy)

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you peaked your head through the crack of sam’s office door to see if he was busy. you were touch starved and just wanted to feel the warmth of sam against you.

he caught your eyes immediately and gave you a welcoming smile with a beckon of his index finger to come to him. he took his headphones off and set them on his desk as you shut his door and made your way towards him.

you were about to straddle him but he took ahold of your hips and spun you around. squeezing and pulling you down to sit backwards on his lap. your legs hanging off his thighs that rested against his chair as your back fit snugly against his chest. he towered over you even while you sat in his lap.

you didn’t think anything of it. just innocent lap sitting and cuddling. what you two usually did.

he wrapped his arms around your waist, digging his face into where your neck and shoulder connected. you giggled as he kissed lightly and scattered kisses to your neck, shoulders and everywhere between.

it was until he started sucking lightly on your neck that made you bite your lip and hold a shaky breath in. a low chuckle reached your ears as a hot breath fanned against your skin. shivers ran along your spine as your back started to arch. he continued, trying to leave every inch of skin untouched.

you were just starting to enjoy the feeling until he pulled away. you tried to keep your enjoyment secret and not let him know he was giving you sweet pleasure, but unintentionally letting out a small whine. you just knew he had a smug look.

he kept his hands on your hips. just barely moving your hips to grind against his growing hard on in his nike shorts. he couldn’t help but stifle a groan as you started to wiggle your hips and ever so slightly bounce.

you softly giggled as you managed to get a noise out of sam. you arched your back a little more. leaning over and resting your arms on his desk as you wiggled and grinded against the thin material of his shorts.

“you like that, sir?”

such a simple sentence that made something in him snap.

he wrapped his large hand around your throat as he pulled you back against his chest again. his other hand slowly sliding over your chest and further. groping your breasts and teasing them through your shirt and bra. you threw your head back against his shoulder wanting more.

“mm, feel good princess?”

the nickname made you clench your thighs together as well as let out a shaky moan.

his chuckle rang through your ears while his hand traveled further down to your thighs. your slipshorts barely covering them as you noticed how much skin was exposed. his hand came to a stop and settled on one of your soft thighs. the hand wrapped your throat doing the same.

you knew where this was going. and you tried fighting it already embarrassed with wearing short shorts.

you tried clenching your thighs even tighter as he did the opposite. his large hands trying to pull them apart as you tried resisting. but as sam was much stronger than you since this man worked out everyday of the week, he pulled them apart easily and kept them apart exposing yourself a little more. even with shorts on you felt exposed.

you let out an embarrassed gasp as you squirmed against him. thinking of the idea to grind on him again would distract him but only resulted in him gripping your thighs tighter.

whining and giving up as you let your body go limp, letting out a defeated huff.

“aw, is the whiny baby upset she isn’t getting what she wants?”

you refused to answer him.

sam would’ve gripped your jaw in an instant to get you to look up at him and give him an answer. but seeing as his hands were full with your thighs at the moment and he wasn’t letting go anytime soon, he let it pass.

“how about this sweetheart. you do me a favor and pleasure yourself for me, and i’ll give you a reward afterwards. sound fair?”

it somewhat sounded fair. you were getting to please yourself all you wanted until he says to stop and he’ll reward you. easy enough.

but, sam watching you.

you felt a flutter in your stomach. it was exciting but also just a bit embarrassing. his gaze focused on you and only you.

“yeah,,, sounds fair”

his hands already started to work your shorts down your legs. sliding them off easily as you watched him.

his right hand slid back up as his middle finger softly stroked over your panties. just his finger made you buck up into his touch.

you heard him chuckle again as he pressed down a bit harder with more force.

“already soaking your panties princess? does my finger feel that good pressed against your needy cunt?”

you whined softly. he was right. you could see the damp spot that darkened your underwear. you gripped his bicep, not sure if you wanted him to slow down or go faster. but sam had different plans in mind and retracted his hand away the place you were most sensitive.

you were about to ask why he stopped until cold air met with your wet sex as your panties were discarded in a second. a shiver running down your spine as you tried to close your legs again. you succeeded. at first.

sam’s hands attaching back to your thighs and pulling them apart without a struggle. you gasped as you felt exposed more than ever.

“now my sweet girl. play with yourself. feel how wet you are for me.”

you swallowed a shaky breath as you reluctantly reached your hand down. slowly but steadily teasing and rubbing your wet folds.

grateful for your body resting against sam’s for support. the natural body heat radiating from his chest and warming your back. letting out soft and breathy moans as you continued to touch yourself.

you felt sam kissing your neck once again. on the other side from where he first started. it felt nice. but you knew it would be nicer if sam was touching and stroking you instead.

you thought of what kind of reward he would give you. encouraging you to stick two fingers inside your dripping cunt as you let out a pleased sigh as you quickly started to move them in and out at a rapid pace. no time to go slow and edge yourself, you wanted the reward sam had in mind for you.

“so desperate princess, and all for a reward? does my slut want my cock that bad?”

your teeth dug into your lip. maybe a little too hard as you felt it start to hurt. but you didn’t care. you weren’t focused on anything but playing with yourself and sam.

“fuck, y-yes, so desperate sir, so desperate for your cock inside me.”

you picked up the pace. the obscene noises reaching both yours and sam’s ears as your cunt swallowed your fingers.

sam let go of one of your thighs. trailing his hand right above where you fingers were pleasuring yourself.

his rough calloused fingertips swiping back and forth on your sensitive clit, pulling a loud moan from you. a coil in your stomach getting more noticeable as you felt your cunt squeeze your fingers tightly.

“aw, is the dumb slut close? hm? you wanna cum sweetheart?”

he picked up his pace as his fingers continued to play with your clit. he flicked it a few times, as the puffy bud throbbed under his fingertips.

“f-fuck, fuck so close. i’m so close sam-“

your hand and wrist was getting tired and sore but you wanted to cum so badly. for sam. you thrust your hips towards your fingers as you gave yourself some leverage.

“yeah? gonna cum?”

you nodded your head vigorously right as the words came out his mouth.

tears were brimming at the corner of your scrunched up eyes. the edge of pleasure was so overwhelming.

“cum for me baby. such a good little slut for me and only me.”

his fingers pinched your swollen clit and pulled on it a few times. and the pace of your fingers going inside you over and over as you found that specific sweet spot and thrusted into it repeatedly. letting the coil in your stomach come undone. covering your fingers with your warm cum.

you completely relaxed your body against sam’s. catching your breath as you recovered from your intense orgasm.

“so good for me princess. so so good for me.”

he picked up your hand as he pressed them against his mouth. his lips enveloping your fingers as his warm tongue swiped and sucked your fluids off them.

you let out a tired chuckle as he continued to suck off everything he could get.

he took your hand from his mouth as he set it to relax on your thigh.

“now sweetheart. i think you deserve that reward you’ve been so desperate for. isn’t that right baby?”

you faintly nodded. already so tired.

he were startled as you were suddenly lifted in the air. you tried to look at sam but was suddenly tossed over his shoulder. you didn’t squirm nor protest since you were already so worn out.

he walked you down the hall to his room. well, your room too as you both shared one. he quickly opened the door and shut it behind himself as he laid you down on the edge of the bed softly.

“how about i treat myself since i helped you..”

he pulled your hips to the edge of the bed. slowly getting to his knees to level himself with your still dripping pussy.

you felt yourself clench over nothing but air. suddenly excited again. he kissed your inner thigh as he let out a chuckle. sending a vibration throughout your body.

“then... i’ll let you get the final part of the reward and pound you with my huge cock you’ve been so needy for. how’s that sound?”

you nodded your head a little more enthusiastically to show him how excited you were. you wanted him badly.

“well, shall we get started?”

[nastyatticman]

Uhh hi

Could you do just phone sex with billy lenz but with a male reader? And like showing both povs

Sorry if that too much

It’s not too much! I love this prompt 👀 I love writing Billy’s POV too, it’s fun!

This ended up way longer than I intended but I had a lot of fun with it! Enjoy :3c

Billy Lenz x male Reader

Warnings: voyeurism, crude language (it’s Billy Lenz after all). Reader is male, and it’s written vague enough to be trans inclusive. (Well, it works for me, but YMMV. Words like cock, hole, etc are used) 18+ Only

Things were tense lately - you were having an awful time at work, and it didn’t help that people were always rude about your work’s mask policy. You just couldn’t understand how someone would complain about having to wear a piece of cloth in the five minutes it took to order donuts, especially to you, who obviously had to wear one all day and stay on your feet the whole time.

It was stupid. People are stupid. You were just glad to get back to your apartment and lay down for a while. It was a little lonely, just you and the plants since your roommate was out to visit his girlfriend’s family. Not that you’d missed seeing him every day in quarantine.

No, you kind of appreciated the privacy. Today you were frustrated and couldn’t think of anything that sounded better than getting off. So you watered the plants, grabbed yourself a drink, and loaded up a video you bought recently.

You started off slow, rubbing yourself through your clothes as the guys started making out on the screen - the big screen, since you finally felt comfortable watching porn on your laptop. As things started to escalate, you undid your pants, finally stroking your cock directly. But, like all things today, some stranger decided to interrupt you.

The phone rang down the hall and you almost let it ring, but you remembered your friend was expecting a call from a place he’d applied to, so you had to answer it anyway. Ugh. You rinsed your hand quickly and picked it up.

“Hello?”

The line was silent, save for some heavy breathing. God, not this guy again... You weren’t sure who the mystery caller was, but he’d grown on you. First you thought it was your roommate’s friend Peter playing a prank on you (even though you’d met him and his girlfriend Jess, and they seemed serious, despite how out of his league she was). You didn’t know, straight men are weird.

But Peter denied it when you had your roommate ask him, so... And besides, how many straight men call their male acquaintances to proposition them for sex?

At this point, it was tempting - you didn’t have time to meet people since the lockdown began, and your roommate was out...

The man kept breathing, once in a while making a strangled noise like he was trying not to laugh.

“Are you gonna get to the point already?” you asked him.

He laughed. “You want my cock, you pig? Fuck - fucking whore wants my fat fucking cock, filling up his tight ass?”

“Oh, quit projecting on me,” you teased. “I bet you’d want me to fuck your ass, don’t you?”

He was speechless for a second, and you heard something that could be him swallowing hard over the phone. His response was barely audible. “Maybe. Y- yeah.”

You smirked, you didn’t know if that would work. “Yeah, if I were there you know what I’d do?”

He took a shaky breath. “What?”

“I’d bend you over for me, yeah,” you said, voice low. You couldn’t believe you were actually doing this, but you brought the phone into your room, laying back on the bed, your hand back to stroke yourself through your pants. “If - if you’re wearing pants I’d rip them off, I don’t fucking care. I’d spread your cheeks and eat your ass.”

You thought back to something he said on a previous call. “You like tongue fucking, huh?” The only response you got was his breathing getting harder, the sounds of skin slapping against skin on the other end. Hook, line, and sinker.

“I’d fuck you on my tongue, fill you up with it, so you’re ready to take my fingers,” you continue. There was a strangled moan on the other end. “Start you off with one, I bet you’d want another just as fast. You’d beg for it, huh?”

“Fuck me,” he rasped.

“Someone’s a needy little... pig, huh?” you asked. He made a noise like he was choking, almost, which made you nervous for a second. But he seemed fine by the way he kept at it. Only thing that was being choked was his chicken on the other end of the line, you were sure. “What do you have to say to that?”

Click.

The only answer you got was a dial tone. That dick hung up on you!

Well, shit, you were already there, you may as well... You put the phone down and laid back, stroking your cock again. You had no idea what that guy looked like, but the sound of him moaning and touching himself over the phone was more than enough to get you off...

The rest of the day passed normally. Unsurprisingly, you got a good night’s sleep after that.

After another grueling day at the workplace, you got back to your apartment. Your roommate wasn’t there, but you saw that he left you a note on the counter explaining he was going to see his girlfriend again. That was fine by you, you... wouldn’t admit it, but you were maybe hoping for another call.

What you didn’t expect was how soon it would happen.

—

Billy watched the man walking up to the apartment complex, and slowly made his way to where he’d been staying. There was a surprisingly large storage room that had decent phone reception, and it was easy to steal from the building’s laundry room bit by bit if you knew what you were doing...

He waited and listened, drumming his fingers on his thighs. If he was quiet enough, he could just hear the sound of you unlocking and closing the door behind you. Click. Locked again.

Billy flipped open his phone and checked the time. 4:45. Okay, he’d give you maybe 7 minutes to get comfortable before he called. He flipped the phone closed, and grabbed something to occupy himself. It just was a broken Rubik’s cube he swiped from someone who visited a few weeks ago, but it was enough to keep him from getting tempted and getting to the main event before he even got you on the line with him. Well, that and to keep him from agonizing over it. He’d never had someone take over like that with him... he had plenty of people tell him to fuck himself, sure, but none so far that had told him they’d fuck him themselves.

None like you.

Eventually he gave up trying to solve it for real and just broke the pieces off, assembling it in the right colors. 4:55. Time enough for you.

He picked up the phone, leaning back on the wall, and dialed your number. Waiting for you to pick up, he fidgeted with his fly and undid his pants.

“Hello?” came your voice on the other end.

“I’ve been thinking about you, what you said,” he started up, groping his hardening cock.”How about I return the favor and fuck your tight fucking hole?”

Your voice was like honey to him. “Oh? Tell me about it, piggy.”

He gritted his teeth, grabbing his cock harder than he meant to. “You’re the pig, you- you took Billy’s call, you whore.”

“Fine by me,” you said, cool as a cucumber. “Tell me about it, Billy. If that’s your name.”

Billy bit his lip, doing his best to get his cock out with one hand. “Wanna - I wanna shove you against a wall, Turn you around, cover your mouth so your fucking roommate can’t hear you moaning for me. Grope your thighs, pull your goddamn hair, how about that?”

“Sounds good, but you know what really gets me going?” you asked. “I want you to bite me. Can you do that for me, Billy?”

“Yes,” he replied instantly. “Bite you so hard I leave fucking marks for fucking days. They’ll know you’re mine, mine, mine.” God, he was hard, his cock was leaking already, and he just used it to lube his hand as he stroked harder and faster.

“Oh? Why don’t you make me yours then? You wanna come in me?”

“Of course,” he replied, barely letting you finish. “I’m gonna fuck your tight little hole so hard you can’t fucking walk for days, everyone’s gonna hear you moan for me so hard, like a whore, Billy’s whore. Yes, I’m gonna fuck you sore, fuck you raw, fuck you senseless, come in your greedy fucking hole.”

He was close, he knew it. And for once you didn’t have a wise guy response for him! He barked out a laugh and imitated your voice almost perfectly. “What do you have to say to that?”

You didn’t respond fast enough, and it only made him cackle.

“I’m c-close, I’m gonna come,” he said. “Think about me flooding your tight little hole, you pig.”

He came, finally, and moaned into the phone for you. He played it up a little, for your benefit of course. He wouldn’t admit that was the hardest he’d come in a while.

You were close to follow him, and he sat there, panting, listening to you come down from your peak. He snickered. “Good piggy.”

“Same time tomorrow?” you asked, half joking.

“Yes,” he said instantly. “I’ll meet you, how about that?”

“Fuck yes, please,” you said. “Wait, how would you know where to meet me?”

Click.

Despite his abruptness, Billy was nothing if not a man of his word. Of course, you wouldn’t find that out until tomorrow...

[strangelysamantha]

cheerleader ❀

rafe cameron x plus!reader.

warnings: swearing, flirting, slight angst in the beginning (barely)

words: 2,365.

summary: rafe was intrigued by you, he wanted to get to know you. he thought that task would be easy, but your distaste for him was apparent. despite the overwhelming amount of setbacks, he knew he would get you to crack.

request? no :)

a/n: please like and comment if you enjoy! thank you, ilysm <3

my masterlist

part two

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most things rafe wanted, he easily got. it was a known fact. his parents were financially stable so they could afford to throw money down the drain for useless items that wouldn’t be used more than once. his popularity and name allowed him to get away with most things. except you. you seemed to not care about his wealth or his looks. you didn’t even care to give him the time of day. he took this as a challenge. he was destined to get you to like him if it was the last thing he did.

the first time he talked to you was during school. he thought his charm and popularity would make you swoon. instead, it was quite the opposite. he approached you at your locker, his smile bright. “hey. i’m rafe.” he extended his hand out to you. “hello, rafe.” you shake his hand back, before retreating your hand to your side. you stare at him in confusion. “uhm am i in the way of your locker?” you question, he shakes his head. “oh no, actually. i just wanted to introduce myself to you.” you nod your head. “well rafe, it was nice to meet you, i guess. but i’m running late for class.” you shut your locker, speeding off to class.

rafe stayed by your locker in awe. you really thought rafe was just waiting to get to his locker? it’s halfway through the school year, if his locker was by yours, you would have known by now. he embarrassingly walked away, heading to his first class. that awkward moment was lingering in his head, stuck on replay. your facial expression that showcased confusion stayed still in his mind. by third hour he was over it, not as embarrassed. he shrugged it off, excited to try again.

rafe actually didn’t know that much about you. he saw you in the halls occasionally. his interest in you peaked when he saw that you talked to topper a lot. since you were heavily associated with topper, he believed that it would be easy to befriend you. it’s clear to him now that isn’t the case. he can’t help but feel surprised at your lack of knowledge for him. everyone knows of rafe, and you should especially know because of how well you know topper.

regardless, rafe knew what he had to do. he needed to see topper, and investigate him. rafe pulled his phone out, texting topper to meet him.

topper met rafe in the boy’s bathroom before fourth period. they scoped the bathroom, ensuring to themselves that they could openly talk since they were alone. rafe didn’t hesitate, he immediately bombarded topper with questions about you. “what’s with the sudden interest?” topper asks, confused.

“i don’t know, i keep seeing her in the hallway and she stares at me.” topper nods, “well she does good academically, i know her because her family is friends with my family, she’s on the cheerleading team, i don’t know man. what info are you wanting?” the cheerleading team. rafe smiled to himself, you are a cheerleader. “that’s good enough, i just needed some info so i could know if i want to meet her or not.” topper laughed, “alright man. i gotta go.” rafe nodded, “see you later.” topper fist bumped rafe before walking out the bathroom.

you were a cheerleader? he had no clue. it dawned on him, if he had no idea of who you were, why would you know who he was? he shook his head at the thought, instead heading to class.

on the other side of the school sat you, fidgeting with your pencil as you struggled to keep up with the current notes. the interaction you had with rafe was confusing you. why did he suddenly want to meet you? it didn’t make sense. the whole class period you tried to wrap your brain around his actions, trying to figure out what his intention was, but you fell short.

at lunch time you sat at a table, you usually sat with friends but they were absent. it didn’t help they were absent the one day someone popular randomly takes an interest in you. you sit on the chair, pulling out your math homework. if you knocked it out at lunch, you had a high chance of not having homework. you start the first problem, but immediately halt when your family friend, topper, taps on your shoulder. “hi tops.” you smile softly at him, setting your pencil down and turning your attention to him. he smiles at you, “hey.”

you pick up a goldfish, plopping it into your mouth. “how have you been?” you question topper. he shrugs, “same old same old. family is still upset with me, per usual.” you nod, soaking up what he said. “dang, that sucks. it’s so annoying how people hold grudges. they don’t know how to forgive and forget.” you shrug, smiling up at him. he returns the smile, “i know right.” you place your homework back in your bag, assuming you wouldn’t be able to finish it during lunch.

“what did you even do?” you ask him. he smiles, “uh i accidentally pissed a pogue off so they got revenge by sinking my new boat.” your eyes widened, “what! holy shit you must have fucked up bad.” he frowns, “i didn’t really want to do it, you know how tricky it is with our reputation and who we have to associate with.” you laugh, “oh i know all too well of what that’s like.” topper rolls his eyes, assuming you’re talking about him.

“hey! i’m not too bad.” you laugh, “it wasn’t about you. you aren’t bad at all.” you look up, seeing rafe take his backpack off. you glance at topper to see he is confused as well. “hey rafe, what’s up?” topper questions rafe, who had just sat down at our table. “nothing much man, saw you over here and decided to join.” you laugh sarcastically, “inviting yourself to our private party?” you question, slightly joking. rafe felt an unexpected twinge of jealousy when you grouped yourself and topper together.

“i’m just kidding rafe… kind of.” you grin, topper joining in by chuckling with you. rafe awkwardly laughs along. he pulls himself together, thinking of things to say. “are you going to the football game tomorrow?” rafe waits for your response. you smile slightly, “yeah, but i’m a cheerleader so i’ll be on field.” he nods, “oh, that’s cool.” you nod awkwardly. “yeah.” he smiles subconsciously, excited to see you in a uniform. his smile disintegrates when topper confronts him. “what are you smiling for bro?” rafe stared at him, unamused. “nothing.” topper scoffs, “alright then.”

you steal looks between rafe and topper, still confused. you don’t ask any questions, you just continue eating your food. the bell rings, indicating that lunch is over. you gather up your trash, standing up. you notice rafes eyes lingering over your body. his eyes fixating between your thick thighs, and hips. you feel self conscious under his stare, so you quickly stand up and walk to the trash can. rafe follows after you, quick on his feet. he comes up to your side, much to your dismay.

“will i see you at the game tomorrow?” you turn your head to the side, “are you going to the game?” you return. he nods, “yeah.” you smile, “then you’ll probably see me.” he grins, “okay, cool.” he quickly turns around, leaving you by yourself. you were confused still, but hey, maybe having rafe as a friend would be good.

you got through the day quickly, heading immediately home. you work on homework, chores, and finally get ready for bed. before bed you prepare your uniform. you set it out, along with a jacket so you weren’t on full display at school. you wake up the next morning, putting on your uniform, along with a bow in your hair. you head to school, slightly nervous for your possible interaction with rafe.

when you arrive at school, you don’t see rafe. you only saw topper, who was eagerly heading in your direction. he smiled, standing still in front of you. “hey, good morning!” you smile, “hi tops.” the two of you talk for a bit, him walking you to class. “can i pick you up before the game?” topper asks. “sure, it has to be a little earlier than the fans. i have warm ups and stuff i have to do before the game.” he grins, “okay! just text me tonight when you want me to pick you up.” you put your hands in your jacket pocket. “okay, thanks topper!”

he walks away, and you walk into your first hour class. you go through your classes as usual, rafe not showing up. you couldn’t tell if you were disappointed or relieved, but either way it didn’t matter, you had a game you had to prepare for. you do your make up, and touch up your hair. you chug water, and began stretching. you text topper, saying he could pick you up now, if he still wanted to drive you. his response was quick and enthusiastic.

topper pulls up to your house, his music loud, and a large smile plastered on his face. “game day!!” you laugh along, repeating his words. “game day!” you open his door, hopping inside. “let’s go!” you playfully roll your eyes at his eagerness, “to the school!” topper smirks, stepping on the gas, and speeding out your driveway.

the two of you sing along to the songs on the radio, before it abruptly ends due to you two arriving at the school. he decides to stay in his car, planning on joining right when the official game starts. you skip down the field, joining your teammates. you stretch with them, before you practice the chants and dance numbers.

at six thirty, they start allowing people in. you immediately see topper hunched over the fence, him waving frantically at you. you wave back, jogging over to him. “you ready?” he asks, you bite your lip, “i guess.” he laughs at your nerves, excited for you. you glance over and see rafe. he hadn’t seen you yet. your breath gets caught in your throat, slightly scared and self conscious to see him.

topper gives you reassuring words, and out of the corner of your eye, you notice rafe had found you. rafe slowly makes his way towards topper, keeping his cool. rafe stares at you in your cheerleading uniform. his breath gets heavy, he stares, watching you talk to topper. jealously fills his chest, of course topper was here first. rafe quickly approached the two of you, eager to break the conversation up.

“hi rafe.” you smile softly, looking up at him. he smiles, “hey. good luck today.” you fiddle with your fingers, “thank you.” rafe stays silent. you hear the coaches whistle. “i got to go, i’ll talk to you when i can!” you quickly turn around, jogging back to the cheerleading circle.

rafe watches as you jog away, hes mesmerized by how well the uniform fit. he knew you would look good, but damn. he looks over at topper, who makes eye contact with him. “what’s up rafe?” topper stares at rafe, waiting for an explanation. “she is so hot.” topper scoffs, “bro, already whipped?” rafe rolls his eyes, but grins. “for her, yeah. i’d willingly be whipped.” the two boys sit on the bench, topper watching the game, and rafe watching you.

after sitting in silence, rafe speaks up. “do you think she likes me?” topper quickly glances at rafe, trying to see if he was joking or if he was serious. when topper saw he was serious, he genuinely contemplated it. “id say maybe, i mean she doesn’t shrivel up in disgust when you are around. that’s a pretty good sign.” rafe shook his head, “that’s true. that is a good sign.”

rafe admired you, you getting his full attention. on break you rush to the fence, excited to see rafe and topper. “hey!” you look up at them, “you are doing great!” topper reached down, highfiving you. “thanks!” you look over at rafe, something took you over because he actually looked hot. you bit you lip slightly, you were going to say something, but rafe beat you to it. “you look good.” rafe smirked slightly, causing heat to rise to your face. “thank you, rafe.”

you return to the group again, your heart racing. the idea of rafe made your breath heavy. you continue to chant, and preform. you occasionally looked up rafe, his eyes always focused on you. you had a low chance of being able to go to the fence again, so you focused entirely on perfecting the choreography. the crowd was cheering loudly, your hometown winning the game.

at the final quarter, your hometown won by one point. your team jumps up and down, ecstatic. you preform a final show, before you break apart. you chug water. you rush in line with the other cheerleaders, going in a straight line to high-five the football players. you smile brightly at them, telling them congrats for winning the game. most of them returned a smile, and thanked you.

after the bleachers started to empty, you decided to meet up with topper, and possibly rafe. you look around for topper but he was gone. you turn around, accidentally bumping into rafe. “oh i’m sorry.” he stares at you, “hey, by the way topper left, said he was going on a date with a girl from the cheer team.” you frown, “oh. he was my ride.” rafe smiles, “you can ride me- i mean ride with me.” you laugh lightly at his switch up, “okay. i’ll ride you.” your heart is racing, the after game adrenaline flowing through your veins, which was causing you to be bold. he smirks at you, “okay, i’d enjoy that.” you mimic his smirk, following him to his car.

he turns around, “are you sure?” you nod, “i’m sure, are you?” he is shocked by your question, “so fucking sure.”

part two will be steamy <3

[baepsaesbae]

Babysitters Club

Pairing— Kim Taehyung x reader    

Genre— SMUT, fluff, babysitting au, strangers to lovers au

Warnings— Dom!Taehyung, roleplaying, face fucking, oral sex (m and f), bondage, explicit rough unprotected sex please stay safe irl, squirting, choking, hickies, a surprise cameo from Spring Will Come Again!Jungkook because I have no self control

Word Count— ~7.6k  

Summary— A generic summer job hunt leads you to babysit rowdy (but still cute) kids alongside the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. What shenanigans will you get into with Taehyung by your side?

A/N— HUGE shoutout to the lovely @kimtaehyunq​​ for making this beautiful banner for me! This was literally the Taehyung I had in mind while writing this uwu. This fic is the epitome of self indulgence but I truly hope you guys like it too! Please let me know what you think! My askbox/inbox is always open, don’t be afraid to come chat with me. Love you all, hope you guys are safe <3

Crumpled up newspapers littered the floor as another ball was apathetically tossed aside. A sigh of defeat escaped your lips as you looked up at the ceiling in desperation.

“Still at it with the job hunt, huh?” your roommate, Hyuna, said when she saw your mess, “I told you to search online. Or try to get a job at a cafe or a boba shop or something.”

“Easy jobs online seem sketchy, and I told you I don’t want to work in the food industry ever again,” you groaned.

“But you’d rather...be a babysitter?” she questioned as she held up an ad, “Wait you could get paid up to $15 an hour? That’s pretty good.”

“I didn’t see that one. Is it an agency or something?”

“Not sure, take a look,” she handed you the paper.

“Oh, it seems like it’s a daycare run out of someone’s house. They’re looking for multiple applicants. You wanna do it with me?! I think it could be fun!” you ask excitedly.

“And spend most of my summer vacation with a bunch of snot nosed brats? I don’t think so. You have fun though!” she blew you a kiss as she walked away.

You whipped your phone out and immediately called the number in the ad. This job was the only one that seemed bearable, and you thought kids were cute for the most part. You’ve had a few babysitting gigs in the past so this shouldn’t be too bad.

“Hello?” a deep voice answered the call.

“Hi, I saw your ad in the paper! I was wondering if there was still a babysitting position open?” you inquired.

“Oh yes! Yeah there’s still a spot open. Um, can you give me a sec?” the man said quickly as you heard wailing kids in the background. After two minutes or so he returned to the phone.

“I’m terribly sorry about that. You don’t have a criminal background or anything right? Gosh, I’m sure this sounds unprofessional but--”

“Nope, I don’t have any charges or anything like that. Should I call back later?” you offered since it seemed like the man was a little preoccupied.

“It’s like this all the time. Why don’t we do a practice run tomorrow? Oh! I mean, whenever you’re available to start. Or technically have an interview? I guess? Hey, don’t put that in your mouth!” the man chastised at someone in the distance.

“I can come in tomorrow!” you said.

“Great! Just use the address in the same ad you got this number from! Oh, and please get here by 9am! See you soon!” the man hung up abruptly.

“That was chaotic…” you said to yourself.

A moment later your phone began to ring. It was from the babysitting guy.

“Hello?” you answered.

“I realized I never got your name! I promise I’m not always this frazzled,” he laughed as rambunctious laughter erupted behind him.

“Oh, I’m ______,” you gave him your first and last name.

“Cool. See you tomorrow Miss ____!” he said before hanging up again.

You were actually excited to babysit. It had been a while since you had done it, and playing with kids was usually fun. Then again, you’ve never had a bad experience with babysitting before. You prayed that this gig would continue the positive trend.

Donning shorts and a simple Mickey Mouse t-shirt, (you figured some kid was bound to like the mousey character) it was time to head off to your potential workplace. The babysitting place was actually fairly close to you, only about a 10 minute drive. It was 8:55am by the time you arrived. A couple of parents walked past your car to drop off their kids. All of the kids seemed to be pretty excited to enter the house, which was definitely a good sign.

You gently knocked on the door at exactly 9am. There was no response as you awkwardly waited for about a minute or so. All you could hear was shrill laughter and thumps that you presumed was the kids running about. You realized there was a doorbell, and sighed at your foolishness.

The door opened seconds after you rang the doorbell. A tall man with dark hair greeted you with a warm smile. You were taken aback by the handsome guy, suddenly questioning whether you were at the right place or not until a child popped up from behind his shoulder and yelled out a loud “Boo!” that caused you to jump.

“Ah, sorry about that! This one is always trying to play pranks,” the man laughed as he playfully jostled the child that was latched onto his back, “You must be ______?”

“That’s me!” you say with a little too much enthusiasm.

“Cool. C’mon in, I’ll introduce you to the kids,” the man led you inside.

The living room was littered with toys, from cars to building blocks to barbies. This place was definitely a kid’s happy place. Four little kids were playing with various things when you walked in. All of the kids there seemed to be between the ages of 4 to 6. At a glance, it seemed like they were all playing house. It took you a few seconds to realize that one of the kids was actually playing by herself; she was just physically close to the other kids.

“Everyone! This is our newest helper! Her name is Miss ____. Let’s all play nicely with her okay?” the man announced.

The kids playing house immediately stopped what they were doing and rushed to you. Two boys began asking you questions in a rapid fire succession, while the little girl merely clung to your leg.

“Those two are Kota and Bel,” the man pointed to the two boys, “The little girl stuck to you like glue is Ava, and the one playing over there is Lucy,” he continued to name each child.

“AND I’M SAM!!” the last boy exclaimed over the man’s shoulder.

“Yes, this troublemaker here is Sam. That’s basically the whole gang! We could get a few more additions as the summer goes on, but these guys are the OG crew. They’re all really sweet kids, once you get to know them. Any questions so far?” your employer asked.

“I don’t think I ever caught your name, sir,” you say politely.

“Oh! No need to call me sir. I think we’re probably around the same age? Not that I’m assuming your age or anything but--”

“He’s my horsey!” Sam interrupted.

“No, he’s the chef!” Kota yelled.

“No, he’s our dad who’s not our dad,” Lucy chimed in.

“My mom told me he was a babysitter?” Bel added, now visibly confused.

“I am all of those things,” the man reassured the children, “But my name is Taehyung. The kids call me Tae or Mr. insert whatever title I have in the game we are playing on that day. Pleasure to meet ya,” Tae extends a hand out to you, “Let’s see how your first day goes.”

The first few hours consisted of a rather intricate game of pretend set up in a fantasy world. You played a princess who was captured by an evil dragon, who was played by Taehyung (you couldn’t help but think about how you wouldn’t mind being his hostage).

The boys were valiant knights on their quest to rescue you. The girls played different creatures that aided the knights as fairies or unicorns or any other things they wanted to be. Most of the game consisted of you and Taehyung sitting together in a corner of the living room. Even though you didn’t have to do anything, it was fun watching the kids play. Their imagination amused you.

“Enjoying yourself, princess?” Taehyung asked as he also watched the children run around.

His deep voice sent chills down your spine. Something about the way the word “princess” rolled off his tongue was so enchanting. You cleared your throat before answering.

“This job has been pretty fun so far, Mr. Evil Dragon,” you smile.

“Hey! I’m not evil, just misunderstood,” he protested.

“Oh no! The dragon is about to eat the princess!” one of the boys cried out.

“What? No, I’m not going to eat her,” Taehyung said defensively.

“You need to pretend to eat the princess so that the knights save her,” Lucy, the quiet one, scuttled over to whisper to the both of you before hurrying back to her spot.

Taehyung turned towards you to appease the kids as they held their breath in anticipation.

“Rawr! I’m going to eat you!” he said in a deep voice.

“Oh no! Somebody save me!” you cried out, playing along.

A few moments passed but none of the kids moved. You both turned your heads towards them in confusion. They stared back at you blankly.

“You need to bite her!” Sam demanded.

“What?” you and Tae said in unison.

“Bite her! Bite her! Bite her!” the boys started to chant.

“But not too hard!” Ava expressed her worry for you, making you smile.

“I…uh…” Taehyung was at a loss for words.

“They’re not gonna stop, are they?” you whispered to him.

He nodded with a sigh as their chanting got louder. You offered him your arm. Kids can be crazy stubborn over silly things. Besides, you’ve done worse for less (college is crazy).

Taehyung shot you an “are you sure about this?” look, to which you just nodded. Once he got the okay, Taehyung grabbed your arm and pulled you harshly, causing your face to be a mere inches away from his.

“Fools! You think you can save the princess? I will devour her before your very eyes!” Taehyung declared with an even deeper voice. He opened his mouth menacingly, as if to show off his fangs. Then, he proceeded to bite your bicep. To be honest, he was being so forceful that you thought he was going to bite you for real, causing you to involuntarily close your eyes.

Instead, he gingerly placed his teeth on your skin so lightly that you could barely feel anything. You opened your eyes to see Taehyung grinning at you with your arm in his mouth.

“Aaaaggghhh GET HIM!!” Sam yelled, leading the other boys straight into Taehyung.

Taehyung quickly let go of you before he rolled out onto the floor. The boys began to pummel Taehyung with their foam swords and pretend bows and arrows. The girls came to your aid to help you escape during the battle.

The little boys triumphantly stood over their defeated babysitter who pretended to be passed out on the floor. You applauded their victory as the girls sat by your side.

“Okay! Good game, it’s almost lunchtime,” Taehyung announced as he quickly popped back up.

“Chef Tae makes the best mac and cheese!” Ava informed you excitedly.

“I wanted dino nuggies!” Sam puffed out his cheeks in disappointment.

“Sam, you know it’s Ava’s day to pick out lunch. It’ll be your turn tomorrow okay? I promise! You guys can stay here and play with Miss ____ till food is ready,” Tae called out as he walked to the kitchen. Lucy silently followed Tae.

“Lucy likes to help out in the kitchen a lot. She sets the table,” Ava explained when she saw you watching Lucy.

“You’re good at being a princess!” Kota butted in as he ran to hug your leg.

“I like your shirt! I like Mickey Mouse too. I saw him in DisneyWorld last year,” Bel said as he clung to your other leg.

The kids took turns holding onto your legs as you tried to walk around. Apparently the thought of making you tumble over was an exciting one, and that kept the kids busy until Taehyung called for everyone.

Five little bowls of mac and cheese were set up on the dining table. The kids took their seats as Taehyung handed out juice boxes. He positioned himself by your side as the little ones began to chow down.

“I normally just eat the rest out of the pot, but since you’re here I can get you a bowl. Sorry about biting you earlier, the kids really like it when I get serious about my roles,” Taehyung chuckled as he scooped out your portion.

“It’s no problem, you’re a great actor. Thank you,” you say politely as he handed you a bowl.

Lunch was spent making small talk with Taehyung. He was a newly graduated college student trying to make extra money before starting a real job hunt.Taehyung had been running this makeshift daycare since he was a senior in highschool.

“Summers are always fun with them,” Taehyung said while smiling fondly at the kids, “How has it been so far?” he asked.

“I’ve been having a good time. The kids are all really sweet! They have so much energy,” you answer.

“They do indeed, which is why playtime is so important in the morning! It makes what comes next easier,” he winked at you before collecting the empty bowls, “Okay kiddos! Who’s ready for nap time?”

Lucy quietly raised her hand while the boys groaned. You figured it would be hard to get those active boys to settle down, let alone to take a nap. You helped Taehyung set up blankets and pillows in the game room. The kids made a beeline to their designated blankets without a fuss.

“Do you sing, Miss _____?” Taehyung asked out of the blue.

“Um, not really?” you say hesitantly.

“Ah, I see. No worries. Everybody ready?” he said.

“Yes!” all the kids replied.

“Alrighty. Do you have any song requests, Miss ____?”

You thought about which songs would make for a decent lullaby, “Do you know Adore You by Harry Styles?”

“I’ll have to look up the lyrics but yeah I like that song! I like his whole album actually,” Taehyung nodded as he pulled out his phone and took a deep breath, “Walk in your rainbow paradise~”

You were shocked by his vocal talent. His voice control was superb and the quality of his voice was downright euphoric. Even though Taehyung’s voice is deeper than Harry Styles’, his range was incredible. He was still able to go as high as Harry without any trouble. All the kids had fallen sound asleep by the time he finished the song.

“This is when I typically have about an hour of free time,” he said after quietly leading you back into the kitchen.

“You have such a beautiful voice! Do you sing to them every day?” you praised him.

“Thanks! Yeah, I sing to them every day. They used to get duets actually,” Taehyung sighed.

“Did you have another coworker before?” you asked.

“Yep. My best friend actually. He’s my roommate too, but he landed an internship this summer so he couldn’t be here. I’m very proud of him! But usually this is a job for two people so I decided to put that ad out. I’m happy you came out! The kids seem to like you,” Taehyung gave you a thumbs up.

“I hope so! Lucy might be scared of me though,” you recalled the way she mostly avoided you all morning.

“Nah, she’s just really shy. She told me that she thought you were really pretty though, so that’s a good sign!” he tried to reassure you.

“I guess it must be true then. Kids are brutally honest,” you smiled.

“She definitely wasn’t lying,” Taehyung smiled back at you.

You had to look away awkwardly to hide your blushed cheeks. There’s no way you could handle a direct smile from this guy. How was it possible for someone to be that handsome without even trying?!

“So what happens after naptime?” you quickly asked to change the subject.

“Basically more playing until their parents come. It honestly just depends on what the kids wanna do. We can play inside, in the backyard, and sometimes we go to the park,” Taehyung answered with an amused smile, “Let’s use this free time to conduct a more formal interview, shall we?”

Taehyung then asked you a series of questions about your summer schedule, if you’re willing to work every day of the week, how you feel about the kids, along with other things. You answered truthfully and kept up a professional demeanor. Taehyung seemed to be satisfied with your answers and leaned back in his chair.

“That all works for me! The people who really need to approve of you are the parents. I’ll introduce you to them later this afternoon. I’m sure they’ll all be fine once I vouch for you,” he nodded.

Soft giggles caught your attention. Taehyung signaled that break time was now over and led the way back to the living room. Kota and Bel were wrestling each other while the others threw pillows at them.  

“Did everyone have a good nap?” Taehyung sing songed.

“Yes!” they replied.

“Can we play house now?” Ava asked.

“Yeah! Miss ____ can be the mommy now!” Sam bounced up in excitement, “Our last mommy used to be a boy.”

“Jimin was a great mommy and I’m sure he misses you all dearly. Jimin is my roommate/best friend/ex-cobabysitter,” Taehyung explained.

The game of house was more hands on from your end. The kids demanded you to carry them and read them stories like a real mommy would. It was mainly the girls who wanted to play with you, while the boys took turns wrestling with Tae or riding on his back. You were braiding Lucy’s hair when the doorbell rang.

“Kota! Your mom is here!” Taehyung called from the front.

All the kids trickled out one by one as their parents arrived. Taehyung introduced you to each parent; their reactions were all positive, especially when their kids raved about you being the new Jimin.

“If she’s anything like Jimin, then I have nothing to worry about. I trust your judgement, Taehyung,” one of the sterner looking parents said (Sam’s father to be exact).

“Congrats! You got the job,” Taehyung congratulated you once all of the children were picked up, “We get paid on Fridays. I’ll basically just split what we earn 50/50, cool?”

“That’s fine by me! I’m looking forward to working with you,” you bow graciously.

“Ah! No need to be so formal. We’re partners now! I’m not your boss or anything,” Taehyung gave you a friendly pat on the shoulder, “See you tomorrow!”

Summer was about to get rather eventful. All of the children warmed up to you surprisngly quickly, even timid Lucy (who had arguably grown the most fond of you). As the days went on, you couldn’t help but admire Taehyung’s kindness and patience when it came to the kids. From firm to understanding, he was everything a caregiver should be. He handled spats between kids with ease, often by making them forgive each other then laugh at some silly joke of his.

One afternoon, the kids voted to watch a Disney movie. All seven of you curled up on the couch together with you and Taehyung in the middle. Lucy sat in your lap while Bel sat in Taehyung’s. Halfway through the movie, Taehyung fell asleep. The kids didn’t notice since they were so engrossed in the movie. You however, DID notice. Mostly because he rolled his sleepy head onto your shoulder.

Your heartbeat quickened as you slowly turned to take a peek at the handsome man sleeping beside you. He looked angelic, and you realized that he smelled pleasant too. He had a sweet scent that was uncharacteristic for a young man. You took a deep breath and pretended not to notice him. He didn’t wake up until the doorbell rang near the end of the movie.

He seemed to be confused and perhaps even slightly flustered when he lifted his head from your shoulder, but quickly shrugged it off to go answer the door. The incident (and the drool on your shoulder) was never mentioned.

It had been a month since you started babysitting with Taehyung, and it honestly had been a lot more fun than you expected. The kids are wonderful silly little beings and Taehyung is...well...Taehyung.

You were cleaning up the living room on a late Friday afternoon after all the kids had been picked up. Taehyung was somewhere splitting up the week’s paycheck. Once all the toys were back in their respective bins, it was time to gather your stuff and go.

“Great work this week,” Taehyung commended as he handed you your cut.

“Thanks! Same to you as always. I’ll see you on Monday,” you wave as you open the front door.

“Actually um--” Taehyung cleared his throat.

“Yes?” you whipped around with almost too much eagerness.

“My friend is part of an art gallery showing tomorrow night and I was wondering if you’d like to go with me? I heard there will be drinks and finger foods…” Taehyung trailed off, presumably due to imagining what kind of snacks will be served.

“I’d love to! I’m not an expert on art or anything, but it sounds cool,” you smile.

“No worries, I’m no expert either. I’m just a guy who appreciates neat expressions of creativity,” he nodded humbly, “I can pick you up at your place, if you’d like.”

“Sure, I’ll text you my address. Oh uh, what’s the dress code like? I don’t really attend these things,” you ask shyly.

“I’d say a step down from formal? Like no t-shirts or jeans. Pretend like you’re going on a date to some restaurant that isn’t a michelin star but is still classier than Olive Garden,” Taehyung tried to explain.

“I’ll do my best,” you smile at his peculiar way of describing the appropriate attire.

A smile never left your face as you drove home. A chance to hangout with Taehyung one on one without any kids around? All of his attention will be on you? Yes please. You love the kids and all, but you finally have a real chance to get closer to Taehyung. To be honest, you might have the teensiest little crush on him, but who could blame you?

The next day was spent preparing for your night out with Taehyung. It probably wasn’t a date (90% sure it’s not), but you wanted to look irresistible anyway. You put on a purple dress with flowy sleeves that made you feel like a princess. It was on the dressier side, but being slightly overdressed never hurt anyone.

You usually only had time to slap on mascara and a lip tint in the mornings before babysitting, but now you had abundant time to play around with your makeup. You settled for a soft yet glamorous look with shimmery eyeshadow and eyeliner. Sparkly lip gloss tied the whole look together and made your lips look tempting (or so you hoped). You decided to leave your hair alone since you were having a miraculously good hair day.

“Wow are you sure this isn’t a date?” Hyuna whistled when she walked into your room.

“It’s not! This is just the first time Taehyung will see me actually trying to look good,” you say defensively.

“You’re cute even in ratty t-shirts, but I get what you mean. Have fun tonight!” your roommate gave you a tight hug.

A strong knock on your front door indicated Taehyung’s arrival. Hyuna tagged along as you went to answer the door; she wanted to see the guy you’ve been gushing over for the past month for herself.

Your mouth hung open in shock for a split second when you opened the door. Taehyung also dressed up. He was wearing a bright sunflower shirt paired with a black blazer that perfectly combined fun with sophistication. He wore a red silky bandana looking belt for an added pop of color with his black pants.

“Hey Taehyung!” you greet him happily.

“Good evening, Miss ____. You look spectacular!” he complimented you immediately.

“So do you! It’s funny seeing you not in a t-shirt, though I’m sure you’re thinking the same thing,” you say.

“You’re charming even in your graphic tees, but this is a nice change of pace too,” Taehyung agreed.

“Hi! I’m Hyuna, ____’s roommate,” Hyuna butted in to shake his hand.

“Hi, I’m Taehyung, ____’s babysitting partner,” he introduced himself.

“We should get going,” you say politely before Hyuna could start to get chatty.

Hyuna mouthed an exaggerated “oh my god” coupled with a double thumbs up as you waved goodbye after Taehyung was already out the door. You playfully rolled your eyes but blew her a kiss anyway.

“I didn’t realize you lived so close to me,” Taehyung said as he pulled away from the curb.

“Yeah, it made the job even more appealing,” you nodded.

“I really am glad that you applied,” Taehyung said softly, as if to himself.

“Sorry, what was that?” you couldn’t hear him properly.

“Nothing! I said I’m glad you agreed to accompany me tonight!” Taehyung quickly stated.

“Thanks for inviting me out! I’m actually pretty excited,” you admitted.

The gallery was somewhere in the swanky part of downtown. You gazed out of the window at all of the high end stores Taehyung drove by. Everyone walking around the stores looked like supermodels, which was actually pretty intimidating. What if the people at the gallery looked like that too?

“We’re here!” Taehyung announced, interrupting your thoughts.

There was a decent amount of people wandering around the venue when you both entered. It was basically one big dimly lit room with spotlights on pieces scattered around on the walls plus some sculptures in the middle. Thankfully, the patrons already inside looked like normal people, most of them probably students like you.

“Taehyung!” someone called from the side of the room.

You both made your way towards the voice, only to find a man who was just as handsome as Taehyung greeting you with a bunny like smile. He had long hair that almost covered up his assorted dangly earrings. He definitely had art student vibes mixed with a dash of bad boy. The boys greeted each other with a ferocious hug, indicating that they’re probably good friends.

“Oh! What’s up, I’m Jungkook,” the boy shook your hand once he noticed you.

“She’s my babysitting partner this summer,” Taehyung said proudly.

“She’s replacing Jimin huh?” Jungkook laughed, “Taehyung and Jimin are like my brothers. We were all pretty close in college and are batchmates, even though I’m younger than them,” he stuck his tongue out at Taehyung.

“Yeah yeah okay whatever. Skipping grades in elementary school and bringing in a ton of transfer credits will help you do that I guess,” Taehyung shook his head even though he was still smiling.

“Are these your pictures?” you asked Jungkook, motioning to the mounted pictures behind him.

“Yeah! I took most of these in Madrid, I’ve been working abroad for my dream company,” Jungkook answered you proudly.

“Who’s this?” Taehyung pointed to a picture of a girl laughing by a giant tree.

“Yeah, she’s gorgeous!” you added.

“She’s um...a good friend. She was the perfect model,” Jungook said with a faraway look in his eyes that told you there was more to the story.

“Tell me more about her on our next phone call. Tonight is for celebrating you!” Taehyung picked up on Jungkook’s sudden change of tone.

You enjoyed listening to their old college stories as the boys reminisced about their past together. Jungkook relished telling you all of Taehyung’s embarrassing moments at various parties. Taehyung returned the favor by recalling Jungkook’s past run-ins with women. Despite his natural charm and god like looks, apparently Jungkook gets really nervous around girls.

You and Taehyung were on your own once Jungkook was flagged down by an older patron interested in purchasing some of his work. Taehyung stayed close to your side as you explored the rest of the gallery. Each artist was so incredibly talented as their pictures told  stories with just a single frame.

“____ look! They have those fancy charcuterie boards!” Taehyung grabbed your hand and excitedly dragged you over to the snack table. You couldn’t help but smile at his childlike elation.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’ve been getting tired of being force fed fruit snacks every day,” you laughed as you ate the assorted appetizers.

“I completely understand. Unfortunately, the kids are too sweet when they want to share. I don’t have it in me to turn them down,” Taehyung agreed.

Once the food was eaten, you resumed walking through the gallery. It was fun making up stories to go with each picture. Taehyung seemed to gravitate towards adding a romantic twist to each story, while you opted for a bit of mystery. At the end of the event, Taehyung met up with Jungkook once more to say his goodbyes.

“Thanks again for coming with me, I had fun! I hope you enjoyed yourself,” Taehyung said as he drove you back.

“It was really neat! I liked hanging out with you outside of work,” you nodded.

“Would you say it was a successful date then?” Taehyung raised an eyebrow with curiosity. Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes widened with surprise.

“Was...was this a date?” you asked quietly.

“Did you want it to be?” Taehyung teased.

“I wouldn’t have gotten so dressed up otherwise,” you said defensively, taken aback by his sudden cheekiness.

“I realized I should’ve clarified that after you had already left. My bad,” Taehyung shot you a boxy grin, “But then I figured maybe you would be more relaxed if I didn’t mention it.”

“That’s odd logic, but I guess it worked,” you admitted begrudgingly.

Taehyung walked you back up to your house. He sweetly kissed your cheek and bid you goodnight, leaving you frozen in place.

“S-see you on Monday!” was all you were able to stammer out, to which Taehyung just smiled and waved back.

Hyuna happily freaked out with you once you were back inside. She was watching you from the moment Taehyung pulled back up. She shrieked with excitement once you told her that Taehyung confirmed that it was a date. Hyuna didn’t let up with grilling questions about how your night went. She even asked if the Jungkook guy you met was single, to which you truthfully answered that you didn’t know.

“Besides, he told me himself that he’s scared of girls. You’re scary enough as is,” you teased her.

“Oh shut up. So is Taehyung like, your boyfriend now?” Hyuna asked the million dollar question.

“I don’t think so. I think it was just a date, but that’s a good start!” you declared optimistically.

Babysitting on Monday went on like normal. Taehyung didn’t act any differently, which was both concerning and relieving. You were in the backyard pretending to eat whatever dirt concoction the little kids were serving you.

“This one is for you,” Lucy quietly offered Taehyung a clump of dirt sprinkled with blades of grass, topped with a dandelion.

“Oh, how pretty! What is it?” Taehyung played along.

“It’s a love potion. The next person you hug will fall in love with you,” Lucy smiled.

A smirk crept on Taehyung’s face as he pretended to eat Lucy’s love potion. He made a satisfied “Ahh” sound that made Lucy giggle.

“Tae has to hug me now! He loves me the most!” Sam yelled as he ran over to latch onto Taehyung.

“No, Tae loves me!” Bel argued as he pulled on Taehyung’s shirt.

“That’s not how it works!” Lucy huffed as she yelled at the boys.

You watched with delight as the little kids chased Taehyung around the backyard, demanding that he has to hug them. It was easy for him to juke them out as they constantly ran back and forth. You were content with just watching them until Taehyung began to make a beeline for you.

“Oh no no no,” you cried as you got up to run.

Taehyung (and the kids) chased you around for a little bit. The backyard was on the smaller side, so there wasn’t much space to evade all of them coming for you at once. To make matters worse, Taehyung actually started to try and catch you. His speed was no joke; he was much more agile than you gave him credit for.

With one pounce, Taehyung tackled you to the ground. Somehow he managed to whip himself around while you were falling, so you ended up falling on him. Now wrapped up in his arms, Taehyung smiled up at you with a shit eating grin.

“I guess you have to fall in love with me now,” he smirked.

“You wish,” you laughed as you pulled yourself up.

“Aw now he loves Miss _____,” Sam pouted.

“No, now Miss ____ has to fall in love with Tae,” Ava corrected him.

“That’s dumb,” Kota shook his head.

“Tae! Kota said a bad word!” Bel immediately tattled.

“Kota, remember what I said about bad words. No one wants to play with someone who says mean things,” Taehyung chided him.

“Sorry,” Kota mumbled.

“Let’s play go play inside. Who wants juice?” Taehyung patted Kota’s head.

The kids followed Taehyung inside like little ducklings. You loved that sight, you always thought it was the cutest thing. The rest of the day went by without a hitch.

The topic of favorite movies came up during lunchtime the next day.

“I like Frozen 2,” Ava stated, and Lucy nodded furiously in agreement.

“Detective Pikachu was better. Pikachu is funny,” Sam interjected. The other little boys then began to argue about which pokemon was better/stronger.

“I’m not really a big movie watcher,” Taehyung confessed as he took a bite of a dino chicken nugget.

“Have you at least seen the classics? Harry Potter? Lord of the Rings? Star Wars?” you listed with concern.

“I’ve seen Harry Potter and Star Wars. I think I saw the Lord of the Rings? I can’t really remember. I know I wanted to watch the newer Lord of the Rings movies,” he chuckled at your growing disbelief.

“Newer Lord of the Rings? You mean the Hobbit series?” you were disgruntled.

“Yeah those. I didn’t realize you were a nerd,” he nudged you.

“What of it? All of those are great movies. I have copies of the Hobbit series if you ever wanted to watch them,” you offered.

“Do you wanna watch them with me?” he perked up.

“Sure, I love them! You wanna do a marathon? It’ll take up a full day though,” you warned.

“I’m down. Are you free this Sunday?”

“I believe so.”

“Great! I’m excited to see you geek out over hobbits. Okay kids, naptime!”

You drove up to Taehyung’s place Sunday morning, you weren’t kidding when you said it would take all day. Taehyung said to dress comfortably so you showed up in your sweatpants and oversized college tee. He answered the door wearing gray sweatpants and his favorite CELINE shirt. His dark fluffy hair fell over his forehead and was almost long enough to cover his eyes.

“Good morning! I hope you’re hungry. I made some waffles to eat while we watch the first movie,” he greeted you.

His humble abode smelled heavenly as the scent of dough tinged with a hint of cinnamon wafted through the air. The soft belgian waffles were delicious as they practically melted in your mouth. Taehyung asked a ton of questions with nearly every scene, but you didn’t mind. You were happy to flex your knowledge of Tolkien lore.

Hours later, you found yourself cuddled up with Taehyung as the final credits of the Battle of Five Armies began to roll. Taehyung was still trying to process everything that happened as he asked you clarifying questions about each character.

“Well crap, now I’m sad,” he pouted.

“Yeah, the ending is kind of a downer, but that’s what makes it so good! The Lord of the Rings has a happy ending if that makes you feel better,” you look up at him from his chest.

“You look cute like that,” he observed.

“Like what? Tiny from your angle?” you tilted your head.

“I guess so? Tiny, maybe submissive,” Taehyung’s voice lowered with his suggestion.

“Submissive? Is that how you see me?” you sit back up completely with defiance.

“Not at all. You’re pretty feisty, which is why making you be submissive is even more alluring,” he raised his eyebrow in a suggestive manner.

“Do you want me to be a damsel in distress for you? Not happening,” you smirked.

“Pretty princesses are good for one thing,” Taehyung hopped off the couch.

Before you could say anything, he promptly grabbed you and swung you over his shoulder. You were too shocked by his boldness and physical abilities to retaliate.

“They’re perfect for kidnapping!” he let out a dramatic evil laugh as he carried you off to his bedroom.

Once there, he roughly threw you on the bed. You couldn’t help but look around curiously since this was the first time you’ve ever seen his room. It was surprisingly neat; his bed was made and there were no messy clothing piles in sight.

“Are you an evil dragon then? Capturing princesses and such?” you teased.

“Evil dragon, dashing captor, I can be anything you want me to be. Just please not an orc,” he let out a chuckle before getting back into character, “Just know that you’re trapped here with me. No one is going to rescue you.”

“Oh no! What a terrible situation to be in! What on Earth is this extremely handsome dragon going to do with a poor defenseless princess like me?” you taunted.

“Ok this is all very hot but before we go any further, are you okay with this?” Taehyung asked sincerely.

“I can’t think of anything that I’ve wanted more,” you nodded.

“Perfect. Safe word is red,” he winked at you, “Now strip for me, princess.”

“And if I don’t?” you challenged.

Taehyung grabbed a fistful of hair on the back of your head and forcefully brought you up to his face, “I suggest not making me angry,” he sneered.

You didn’t think you were one for being manhandled, but god damn that was hot. There was already a tingle between your legs and he hadn’t even really touched you yet. You complied with his request, and quickly tore off your shirt and pants. Though you weren’t wearing any fancy lingerie, you were wearing a gray bra and gray panties that could pass off as matching.

“Mmm what a pretty treasure. It would be a shame to let it gounappreciated,” Taehyung stretched out that last word as he gently ran his fingers from your torso up to your neck before firmly grasping it.

Taehyung straddled you as his long fingers were wrapped around your neck. Slowly, he leaned down to kiss you. Though apprehensive at first, he gradually got more bold with it. His tongue dipped into your mouth the instant your lips parted. His other hand crept under your bra to fondle your breast.

“You take your clothes off too,” you said as soon as the kiss broke.

“You don’t get to make any demands, silly princess,” Taehyung shook his head.

You pouted and reached out to tug at his pants anyway. Big mistake. Taehyung slapped your hand away and slammed you back onto the bed.

“You don’t listen, huh? I’ll have to do something about that. Stay still or else you’ll make things worse for yourself,” he ordered.

You reluctantly obeyed, partly because you were curious about what he was going to do, and partly because you were actually intimidated by him. He returned back to the bed a few seconds later, but with a familiar silky red belt in hand.

“Give me your hands. Good girl,” he smiled deviously as he bound them together, “Remember the safe word is red, okay?” he gently reminded you.

He looked down at you with a satisfied grin as he began to take off his sweatpants. He had an obvious bulge in his underwear that outlined his massive dick. You were further entranced by his physique when he took off his shirt. He wasn’t ripped, but he was still fit, as you could plainly see when his chest was finally revealed.

“Open wide, princess,” he demanded.

You opened your mouth, and even flattened your tongue out a little bit for him. He pulled his cock out of his underwear, finally exposing his full length. You doubted you could fit even half of him in your mouth, but at this point it wasn’t up to you.

Taehyung lowered himself down to you, and teasingly tapped the tip of his cock on your tongue. He slowly eased himself into your mouth, forcing you to open your mouth even wider to account for his girth. He made his way back out once you gagged. He grabbed your head to hold you steady as he fucked your mouth once more. He got closer and closer to the back of your throat until he finally hit it. All you could focus on was breathing as tears welled up in your eyes. Taehyung thrusted a couple more times before he pulled out completely.

“Good girl indeed. Well done, princess,” he softly stroked your chin before wiping your tears away. All you could do was smile meekly back at him.

“Don’t worry, it’s time for your reward,” Taehyung smiled down at you as his hand slipped under your panties, “Oh you’re so wet. I can’t wait to taste you.”

He positioned himself between your thighs after he tore off your panties. His thumb fiddled with your clit, causing you to squirm. He placed a strong grip on your thigh to hold you down as he circled your clit faster. Your helpless whimpers were music to Taehyung’s ears.

Without warning, he easily stuck two fingers into you. He didn’t even let you adjust as he rapidly fingered you, his fingers curving to graze your g-spot with every stroke. His tongue swirled around your clit, adding even more toe curling sensations.

Him adding a third finger was the catalyst for the strongest orgasm you’ve ever had in your life. There wasn’t even a build up, everything just hit you at once. Suddenly you were crying out even louder as you violently came. Did it occur to you that you were squirting all over Taehyung and his bed? No. Were you doing exactly that? Absolutely.

“Delicious,” Taehyung said as he licked his lips, “Look at the fucking mess you made.”

“I-i’m sorry,” you managed to stutter, you were still recovering from your orgasm.

“It’s only fair that it’s my turn to make a mess now. Do I need to get a condom, princess?” he cooed.

You weakly shook your head. You needed to feel all of him, right now. Taehyung chuckled at your neediness as he aligned himself with your pussy. He slowly inserted his entire length into you until the base of his cock touched your soaked pussy. You moaned together as he stayed still for a second. You looked up to see Taehyung’s face lit up with pure bliss.

“You’re still so fucking wet,” he growled as he began to mercilessly buck his hips into you.

You moaned with every thrust as Taehyung shook the entire bed. Taehyung placed both of your legs on his shoulders, allowing him to hit you even deeper from this new angle. He leaned over to plant his lips on your neck as he fucked you. What started as a gentle peck took a violent turn as he harshly sucked on your neck. He left dark spots wherever his lips touched, and soon you were covered in dark blooms.

“Do you want me to soil your back or your chest?” he asked in a guttural tone.

“Back?” you answer dubiously.

You were immediately flipped over. You were laying flat on your chest waiting for him to prop up your ass, but he never did. Instead, he simply spread your legs wider and fucked you flat against the bed. Taehyung grabbed your ass and spread your cheeks to get a better view of your sopping pussy. You could feel another orgasm brewing as he fucked even deeper into you, and his cock was continuously dragging against your g-spot.

“Taehyung, I--”

“I know, princess. Let it all out. I want to feel you come on my dick,” he demanded.

A few more strong strokes was all it took for you to go limp under him as your orgasm took over. Seconds after you hit your high, Taehyung pulled out and came all over your back.

Once you were all cleaned up, Taehyung untied you and kissed your forehead.

“How was it, princess?” he asked as he stroked your hair.

“I’ve never been fucked by a beast before, but now I don’t want anything else,” you admitted before kissing his neck.

“Good. I was worried about going overboard. As I told you before, I really like getting into character,” he laughed.

“I’ve never been into roleplay but I’m willing to change for you. Oh shit, it’s late already,” you noticed the time on his alarm clock.

“Just stay the night. I don’t think the kids will care if you’re wearing sweatpants or not. I can lend you a turtleneck to cover up those hickies though,” Taehyung yawned.

“Are you sure?” you questioned.

“Yeah, I don’t mind. Be warned, I’m a cuddler,” he pulled you closer to him.

“I guess I can sleep in a little later then,” you reasoned.

“Perfect. Goodnight, princess,” he quickly kissed your lips.

“You’re sleeping like that?”

“Like what?”

“Butt naked?”

“I can put clothes on if it makes you uncomfortable. I just figured it would make things easier for tomorrow morning,” he said sleepily.

“Tomorrow morning?” that got your attention.

“You’ll see! Be patient, princess. Night night.”

Never in a million years would you have guessed that applying for a babysitting job would result in this, but you weren’t complaining.

Published April 17, 2021. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed. All Rights Reserved © 2021 Baepsaesbae.

[rek1s-headband]

if it's okay with you, could I request headcanons for reki and langa with a shy s/o?

A/N: Thanks for the request! Hope you enjoy:)

With a shy s/o

Characters: Reki Kyan, Langa Hasegawa x gn! reader

Warnings: none!

Reki

Absolutely loves it

It’s a real comfort to him. Being the upbeat, talkative person that he is, he appreciates having someone there to just listen to him, to just take everything in instead of questioning him on it

Would be like your bodyguard in public. If he feels you’re getting uncomfortable while you’re both around a lot of new people, he’ll either offer to take you around and introduce you to them so you feel better, or take you outside for a breather

Always asking if you’re comfortable going places when he knows a lot of people will be there

Sometimes he can be a bit blind to stressful situations. Being the extrovert he is, he’s a lot more comfortable being around new people, talking and making passing comments with ease. But one tug of his arm or a quiet glance his way and he’s springing into action, holding you close and asking what he can do to make you feel better

Eases you into things. He’s always going to make sure you gradually get used to new places, and will never leave your side

The pair of you met at S. he was racing in a beef against your friend, and you were there to support him. The two of them were on good terms of course, it was just a friendly race

He saw you chatting to him after the race, and he was honestly blown away by how gorgeous you were. He found himself staring, admiring your quiet smile, talking in a hushed voice. He wondered why you weren’t talking louder, it wasn’t exactly a library out here after all.

Langa flicked his temple after a minute or two, saying “if you’re gonna keep ogling them like a creep, you might as well go say hi.” He could feel himself glowing with embarrassment, but before he knew it he was shaking off his nerves and walking right over to you

He called out to your friend, giving him a high five as he began to talk about the race. You stayed relatively quiet, glancing at your phone occasionally and looking around. This threw Reki for a loop, surely you had something to say about the race? Confident as he was, he didn’t feel like starting a conversation without your friend hopefully introducing him first.

Just as he expected, your friend pulled you over, introducing you to Reki. You gave him a smile and a quiet “hello” before going back to your phone. Reki was a bit disappointed, but he didn’t let it show. Soon after, your friend announced he needed to go talk to his friend, and he’d leave you two to chat for a few minutes. You watched him leave with pleading eyes, begging him not to leave you with this complete stranger

There was a silence between you two for a minute or so, but Reki soon broke the silence. “So how did you find the race? Did you like it?” The words were already spilling out, and you felt yourself get embarrassed. What were you supposed to say??

“Yeah, it was..good.” You were mentally kicking yourself, wishing you could say more, but your brain was turning to mush in its attempt to converse with this new person. It didn’t help that he was, well, cute. Like, really cute. His hair was held back with a headband, but a lot of it still managed to escape, his fluffy locks obscuring his vision. You found yourself staring, and only snapped out of it when he waved a gentle hand in front of your face.

“Nothing else? What did you think of my skating? Was I good? Did I look cool?” He was ducking his head down to the part of the ground you were staring at, looking up at you with big eyes. He wasn’t used to talking to such quiet people, but hey, it was something he could get used to. To him, there was something quite endearing about your small smiles and wide eyes, simply taking in the world around you. You reminded him of Langa when he first met him, one-word replies and big eyes. He grinned, hoping you’d warm up to him like Langa did

He began to worry you didn’t want to talk to him when you didn’t respond, but a grin quickly spread across his face when he realised you were blushing. Reki’s mind was going into overdrive as your eyes widened, throwing your hands over your face.

“No! I mean- you were really cool, I liked that trick you did in the middle...” your voice quietened again when Reki dramatically let out a gasp, collapsing to his knees and holding a hand out to you. Your face was practically crimson at this point, frantically looking around, wishing for your friend to materialise and rescue you. You turned back to Reki, about to ask him what he was doing, when he suddenly spoke up.

“THEY SPEAK!!” He shot you another smile. “And here I was under the impression you just stood there and looked pretty.” You felt your face grow impossibly redder, but you surprised even yourself when you let out a loud laugh. Reki looked at you with wide eyes, and he could feel his grin grow even wider. You pulled him off the ground, looking around, still half mortified from his display. You tried to let go of his hand once you picked him up, but he just held it even tighter, his face inches from yours.

“So what I’m hearing is that you liked my skating?” You tried to look away from him, but you could feel yourself getting lost in his amber eyes. Taking the record for the worlds worst timing, your friend came back with a drink in his hand, apologising for how long he took before his eyes landed on the pair of you. To any bystander, the two of you looked quite intimate. Hand in hand, faces inches away from meeting

You pushed away from Reki, resembling a tomato as you waved your hands, telling your friend it wasn’t what it looked like, that you were just talking. You turned to Reki for backup, but you were met with someone who could only be described as though they were on airplane mode. A giddy grin on his face, and a small blush creeping across his face, he quietly ran a hand through his messy hair while giggling. This only worsened your case, turning around to your friend to hide in his shoulder.

Of course, Reki magically ended up with your number by the end of the night, and you were bombarded with texts before you could even set foot outside the doors of S

Langa

Unlike Reki, he’s slightly more versed in the art of silence. You can always guarantee a bit of a brain break when you’re with Langa, just enjoying each other’s company in comfortable silence

As for Langa, he appreciates having someone who doesn’t expect him to be keeping up with them talking a mile a minute. Of course, he loves listening to peoples’ endless babbling too, he just likes to be a bit more active in the conversation sometimes, which you make easy with your quieter demeanour, leaving more space in between your sentences for him to give input

He is glued to your hip in public. Mumbling sweet nothings in your ear as you walk along the streets, he’ll quietly talk about random things he finds strange or funny about the things he sees around him, keeping you in gentle company so you dont feel stressed

At any social gatherings with a lot of people, he’s rubbing circles in your hand, making sure you’re not uncomfortable with the people around you. If at any point he sees you begin to get restless, he’ll excuse the oar of you and take you for a walk, or even just to get a glass of water

The two of you met at the skate park. He’d been practicing with Reki when he saw you walk in with one or two of your friends, shifting from foot to foot as you scanned the park, checking to eye who was there. When your eyes landed on him, you were surprised to see he was looking straight back at you. Embarrassed, you looked away. Suddenly the floor was looking quite appealing to you.

Slightly agape, Langa’s mouth quickly turned into a little pout. You didn’t even smile...Of course, you didn’t even know him, but why did he suddenly feel like he really wanted you to?

Reki watched his friend’s mind spin, a little grin settling on his face. Did little Langa here have a crush? The cogs were already turning in his head, thinking of ways to make the pair of you interact. Not to mention, he wouldn’t mind getting cozy with your friends while you two talked...

“Langaaaa, you should really go talk to them yknow.” Langa almost gave himself whiplash with how fast he turned his head away from you, a look of panic spreading over his face while he stammered out that Reki had it all wrong, that he just wanted to see who’d come into the park. Reki tutted, putting his hand in his chin. He mumbled about how Langa shouldn’t lie, that it was normal to find people hot, which earned him a smack into the back of his skull

Somewhere during the play fight, the two heard a flurry of hello’s being exchanged, and they looked over to where you had been standing. Your friends were now talking to who Langa assumed were more of your friends, and watched as you trailed a little behind, carrying your skateboard awkwardly and not really knowing what to do with yourself. It became apparent to Langa that these new people weren’t friends of yours, and he felt his heart ache as he watched you stand a few feet back, glancing around and at your phone.

Reki saw how Langa stared at you, and before long he was dragging Langa up, and over in your direction. “Come on prince Langa, save your damsel in distress.” Langas brain went jdskhvmhcb as he thought of just what he was supposed to say to you, and hoped Reki would just do the talking. But to his distress, Reki gave him one last push and ran back to where the pair had been sitting. Langa looked back with a face that could only be described as “fuck you, seriously go fuck yourself.” As as he turned back around, he was met with your big eyes and a look of curiosity

He took a deep breath, taking a second to compose himself, and he took a stab at introducing himself

“Uh..hi” he mentally kicked himself, obviously that wasn’t going to do anything?? He was pleasantly surprised when you gave him a smile and a small “hello” in return. This was enough for him to regain his confidence, making another attempt at conversation

“Ok so..I saw you standing here and, uh, I was wondering if you were alright. You just seemed kind of lost.” He gave you a soft smile, giving his shoulders a little shrug as if to say well there you have it. “I’m Langa, by the way.” You looked up at him as he spoke, and Jesus, he could feel himself staring at you again. There was no denying you were incredibly attractive, and from up close it was just amplified. He was brought back to reality when you laughed, and his face lit up when he realised you were going to actually talk to him.

“Well, thank you for your concern, I didn’t really know what I was supposed to do with myself honestly.” You let out a quiet sign, giving him a soft smile before continuing. “It’s my first time here, and my other friends have been here before, they’ve gone over to their friends, and I didn’t really want to interrupt. I still dont exactly know how to ride this thing yet either,” you motioned to the board in your hand, “so you can imagine my predicament.” Langa looked down at you with a smile, quietly laughing before attempting to talk

“Well, if you want, I can give you a few pointers.” You gave him a look of concern, waving your hands around. “Oh no, its fine, you’re with your friend, I wouldn’t want to butt in-“ your rambling was cut short when he grabbed your hand, and you felt your face heat up.

“You’re not interrupting anything. Let me just grab my board and we can start.” He brought you over to Reki, who was acting completely oblivious to what had been going on, even though he was the evil bastard who set the two of you up. He looked up with a smile, handing Langa his board and offering you some food with a wink in both of your directions. He chuckled as he watched Langa lead you away, getting up and grabbing his board, deciding that while your friends were there he might as well attempt to impress them.

“Keep yourself a bit more balanced.” Langa instructed you from atop your board “you wont fall off as much then.” You were glowing from embarrassment, feeling like all eyes were on you as you failed to stand on the board without shaking. You mumbled about how it was easier said than done, sighing as you got off the board again. Langa nudged you to stand onto it again, this time his hands wandered to your waist. If you weren’t crimson before, you were now. Langa quickly realised how suggestive this looked, looking up at you with a panicked expression

“Uh-Not like that! I just..to keep the board still!” He was now redder than you, if that was somehow possible. In an attempt to stabilise yourself, you put your hands over his on your waist, which you soon realised only worsened the situation. You were both a stumbling, red mess within seconds. Reki watched from the sidelines, amused by your ministrations.

After a while, you started to get used to the board, but even after you got comfortable Langa’s arms never left your waist. You had been practicing with him for well over an hour now, and your friends were ready to leave. With giggles and nudges they made their way over to the pair of you, before shouting your name and scaring the shit out of the two of you.

As you got off your board and got ready to leave, Langa grabbed your hand. Your face flushing red once more, you turned to him questionably

“Um.. I had a lot of fun today, would you maybe want to do it again sometime?” Your friends jumped up and down behind you as the pair of you exchanged numbers and a quick hug. Blushing as you linked arms with your friend, you gave Langa one last smile before leaving the park

Maybe you were glad your friends dragged you here today after all