#it was wild and i was simultaneously laughing my ass off

[hobbitunderthemountain]

today at work, our department got copied on an email asking about brand guideline questions about an update for the client we work for but the original sender meant to send it to one person, instead they copied a huge distro list

immediately it erupted into everyone and their mother 'reply all'ing and saying this wasn't meant for them (duh. it was sent to a distro list that contained people from 82352 different companies)

a few hours later we get an email saying the initial email contained highly sensitive information and we had to reply back to confirm that we were deleting the information and didn't forward it to anyone and if we had we had to contact a specific leaks department

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 6

[prompt: blowjob]

male reader x hyeju

12k words

“I mean, don’t you think,” Hyeju says, wagging a finger at you, “that when you suffer through a bad date, the world ought to owe you something?”

"Like what?" you ask.

"Better taste in women - maybe more orgasms; I dunno, a blowjob?" She shrugs. "The general idea is just that someone gets to cum."

You nearly choke on the air in front of you. "Jesus, Hyeju, warn a guy."

“What? I’m trying to commiserate with you,” Hyeju laughs. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Being able to kiss someone who actually, you know, might love you back, and at the same time. Imagine not hooking-up just to forget a shitty day. Sounds wild, right?"

"Utterly deranged."

"So wild."

-

The first time you hook up with your roommate, it’s because of genetics - though not in the weird, uncontrollable way your body gets rigid and sensitive to any pretty girl who wears nothing but a towel moving between her bedroom and the bathroom, or how her eyes might flick fast from your chest up to yours - or given that the absolute shape of her is a blessing from one god or another (benevolent, clearly). That's not why Hyeju and you find yourselves only a few months later grinding on each other after the clock ticked past midnight, making out on New Year's Eve.

No, it has to do with the fact that Hyeju's nearly failing the nine AM section of molecular genetics because she's spent every lecture doodling stars and planets and planets shaped like asscheeks and planet-ass constellations while everyone else writes notes or doom scrolls twitter or whatever and she is somehow simultaneously the only student who never slept with her face on the lab desk or missed an assigned reading and the only one who absolutely needs a tutor.

It's just cosmic odds that you'd be that one: her roommate, who shouldn't be talking so loudly in the library about sex (in a sort of non-sexy, Mendelian kind of way) or be thinking the kind of things you've started thinking when Hyeju wears one of her more sleepshirt-esque long sleeves, her voice getting lower as you rattle off, "fruit flies and thale cress, definitely, it's just an error of fate or chromosome splitting..." before trailing off into a question.

"This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me," she finally tells you. You listen to her sigh into the binding of her textbook, facedown. "I'm really going to bomb this exam."

You tap her hand twice with your highlighter across the desk. "Then you're pretty damn lucky, if you think about it."

She turns to you, smiles a bit. "Okay, point. The worst thing will be having to retake this stupid fucking class."

"Why didn't you ask for help or go to office hours if you knew you were... failing?"

"Maybe because doing anything more than the bare minimum to get through a class I don't care about is my definition of, failing," she mumbles. "Why didn't anyone tell me a single lab is worth half my grade? Or that the TA is this fucking unreliable? How is this the one thing, really, beyond the basics, that can't be taught by wikipedia, a wikihow article and a youtube video?"

You scoot your seat closer to her. "You really need to relax."

"Fucking tell me about it."

You turn it over in your mind a few times, capping the top of your highlighter.

"Want me to get you off?"

And it’s not like you really mean it, when you say it, which is the strangest thing: you wouldn't actually suggest it, normally, wouldn't mention it in passing and then leave yourself open to the follow up and cross examination; yet there it is, after three, four hours of cramming notes on heterochronicity and the sloshing of gametes - you actually did propose it.

Hyeju jerks up, surprised.

"Are you serious?" She looks around, nearly snorting. "In the library?"

The face you’re giving her makes her scoff.

“You’re absolutely nuts.”

You have character flaws; the inability to admit wrongdoing chief among them. Hell, maybe it's from your mother - or maybe all your brains are just scrambled by the fact that Hyeju's sitting there with her pen against her pretty lips, hair glossier than usual as she scans your face and makes your entire body feel like a reactor core in meltdown.

Maybe you can blame what comes next on that.

"I'm always serious. I'm asking a serious question," you whisper, closing the textbook and resting your elbows on top. You look around quickly, like you're sneaking something in instead of this perfectly reasonable exchange, the perfectly platonic - except maybe not so much - way for friends to help each other.

"And I'm wondering what you're asking." Her cheeks are definitely pinker, you think, or the way it fills out her face, from the bottom up, is just that easy to imagine.

“I’m saying you haven’t gotten laid in months.” Here, you realize, these blocks of mental logic that definitely weren’t there when you blurted it out start to coalesce into something solid as you go on.

And you hadn't been wrong when you thought no one had given Hyeju a helping hand in a long, long time: you've heard through the walls or the floorboards at odd hours of the morning that she spends far too long fingering herself to a mind-numbing, tear-worthy frustration that leaves her knuckle-deep but never, ever sated or satisfied.

"No one's around, you'll feel better. You said it yourself."

Not a work of your imagination here - her ears are fucking burning.

"Wait a minute." She pushes her chair back, away from you and your gleaming offer. It clatters on its back legs, and a librarian waves her finger in warning. You wave back, sheepishly, until she stops and Hyeju stands and moves away from the table to talk, hands crossed over her front.

She turns and asks in a hushed-down-voice, "how did you know - did you hear something last night?"

"You couldn't keep it down even if you wanted to, honestly."

Hyeju turns further and throws a glare at the library doors, because obviously her noisiness and their collective noisemanship, or whatever the hell the word is, is clearly the root of the whole goddamn problem.

"Look - if not, no big deal - but I'm just saying you'll probably get over it and at least think less about sex. Or at least the wrong kind of sex."

You expect her to turn, sigh, and ask if you've lost your mind. Expect her to gather her jacket from the back of her chair, take her books and stomp out the room. Or even burst out laughing at the insanity, before slapping your arm lightly, in playful retaliation - anything other than the serious look she gives you in return, tilting her head, pressing her lips.

She turns up at the ceiling for a moment, contemplating something. And it's cute. It's so very, very cute, how her mouth pouts as she considers the possibility, right up until she says, "okay, fine."

The moderate twist of surprise taking hold in your brow must be visible.

"Oh, don't tell me that was all talk. Get me thinking about the right kind of sex or whatever."

You laugh, which has the librarian staring at both of you - until the librarian stops staring and probably sees Hyeju sliding back into her chair, the full, pent-up weight of her concentration pointed your way, knees inching apart - you, and Hyeju waiting, your knee bumping into her inner thigh, leaning closer as the textbook hits the floor.

"Don't laugh."

"Not laughing, seriously. Not laughing," you stammer. “I just think you’re just full of surprises.”

She spreads her knees further and sits taller, looking right at you.

"So then, surprise me," and then presses her cheek to the crook of your elbow.

You slide your chair right into the space next to hers, nuzzling up into the space under her ear. “Keep studying, Hyeju, you’ve got shit to do.” And then you slide your hand beneath the waist of her sweats, knead the swell of her thigh until you find the seam where her leg meets her body, press your palm down on the place just next to her center, your thumb in the middle. All this perfect pressure.

"Fuck," Hyeju says under a shudder. She's breathing heavier when your hot, open-mouthed kisses start landing at her neck, and she probably tries to read her textbook for about forty-five seconds longer. But there's the clench of her jaw right as your middle finger begins tracing circles beneath the fabric of her panties, and her gaze is blurring until she can't tell the difference between an allele or your fucking name.

"Shh-shh," you quiet her, finger tapping harder, playing with the slick wetness beneath all those layers of thick cotton and pressing two fingers there until her knees part like they’re not interested in resisting at all. Your lips press a kiss to the shell of her ear and she tenses all at once, hand shooting up to cover her mouth.

She simply leans back, closes her eyes, and lets you take care of her.

“Okay, you’re right,” she says, shaky and uneven, “that really did take some of the edge off. Did we ever review - poly- uh, pol-polymers here?"

The sweatshirt sleeve falling off your shoulder is a hindrance to any actual reading; her shifting against the chair isn't helping either, but you manage to push down the thoughts of stripping her down completely and giving her your tongue as yet another distraction.

"What did the syllabus say? I don't know if we need to read too far on 'polymers'," you say, having going through an entire afternoon without considering this once, but as you curl your fingers and take an honest crack at cramming the remaining chapters into her head, the knowledge that no one else is getting her this wet - except for whoever she's got in her mind's eye at three AM - is enough to get you feeling a little dizzy.

-

It’s probably supposed to be weird, given that you’ve never gotten any of your other friends off spontaneously in the library, or there's the fact that you can't really avoid each other afterwards, how she shows up in a silk negligee when you're pouring coffee before sunrise to prep for another day and you have the opportunity to notice - yes, she has amazing taste in underwear, yes, you might not have really appreciated her chest and figure enough before - yes, fuck it. She catches you noticing that first time, after coming downstairs with nothing but one of her cropped t-shirts and her board shorts, and she smirks when she realizes you're still thinking about it that afternoon, when her foot grazes yours while you're both washing dishes, and she dries the plate in her hand with a slow swipe.

And it is weird, actually, to describe what’s going on between you in words. 

A few words, anyway, like a one-word label to describe what it was: friends or roommates-with-benefits, or - fuck buddies - god, it's even worse. Fuck buddies? Fuck friends? Something equally terrible and stupid that still makes sense, like something out of a shitty rom-com: it doesn't capture any of the rest of the myriad ways in which things can feel less or less friendly between two people.

So, friends was never, ever going to cut it. Roommates - although technically correct - is just this side of too clinical. And let's be clear: strangers don't wake up every morning together, walk to the same class, sit close together in the middle seats, secretly flick a strangers' skirt up in an empty lecture hall and get on their knees and work your mouth onto her pussy and watch the legs of the desks shake when her feet arch into the floor.

"The notes you've got are better than mine," is how Hyeju tries to put things, the next day and every time after that, standing in the doorframe, or at the foot of your bed and looking every bit the disheveled and hopeless mess you imagine she might spread out over the sheets of her own.

-

It gets complicated, which isn't really a surprise.

"You think your roommate is going to be home tonight?" is the question that comes up multiple times - from a revolving door of pretty names and faces. Hyeju has at least one opinion, if not more, on each of them.

"Tell Jinsoul I say hi," she says once, watching you get ready for a date, and you nearly bang your knee on the edge of the bathroom vanity. 

It's one of the more harmless comments she's offered.

Another, backhanded: "if you’re just looking for a blowjob everyday between lunch and our physics lab, let Hyunjin or Heejin or whatever-her-name-is know she's easily my favorite," Hyeju says on your way out one morning, still under her covers.

Or,

Hyeju's texted a simple "uh, Chuu? really??" when you mention, once, how much fun you've been having - and what kind, as you make a round of self-conscious and rambling phone calls the next day that land you with only one prospect for the night - but your roommate's also no longer being your roommate by the end of it, bouncing against your thighs in the bathtub and moaning something about please more and fuck or fucking make me cum; the details escape you a bit.

That's what friends are for, probably.

Still, in the same, bare-bones explanation, friends also aren't for falling asleep on you - or letting you hold her - or fucking you awake in the middle of the night. Friends aren't for pushing down your jeans when the early-morning dew settles on the back patio, or jerking you off in the seat beside yours with a sweatshirt over your lap when a group project is due later and you all should probably work on that and instead get yourselves off and leave the mess of what you're doing half-finished. Friends aren't, probably, for offering to watch you rub your palm up and down your cock the night before next semester's exams when you can barely sit in a single chair and you can't think about molecular biology or neurochemical transcriptions when your whole body aches to do the transcribing. (If you can catch that drift.)

The lists of who are and are not good enough for you goes on and on - the latter longer than the former.

So, there's Choerry, who according to Hyeju is 'straight up, a total slut'. Yeojin, who gets mistaken for your little sister enough times that Hyeju refuses to - in good faith - let you keep sleeping with her. Both Heejin and Gowon are apparently too pretty for you. "Kim-lip?" she asks, in the middle of peeling garlic, "is that one name or two?" And laughs into a bottle of beer, loud, while you're telling her to quit being nosey and watch her fingers with the damn knife.

"You have a problem."

"Why, because I asked a few simple questions? I think anyone would be a little curious with the -" she pauses to wave her fingers - "I'd be remiss to not be interested in the very drama that unfolds literally across the hall."

She waggles her eyebrows.

You look up at the ceiling. God save you, you think. "Hyeju."

("Seriously," Hyeju chimes in one evening, arms around you, and a mouthful of the dinner you'd cooked.

"You need better taste in girls. Don't waste time on anyone too dumb, or who drinks the milk straight from the carton, or doesn't wash her socks with the same load of laundry. Oh, and - no one who chews loudly. No one who can't tell you're going to cum. The worst is someone who doesn't know what you like, trust me on that. And remember the last rule: don't do anything with someone who eats at a really slow pace, it's incredibly depressing."

You rest your chin on her shoulder from the spot behind her. "Duly noted, oh Master of all Knowledge."

She sighs into your arm, but in the next moment, her voice gets a lot softer, her hips fidgeting slightly against you. "I just mean you're the kind of person people would want to sleep with again," she says, before turning to say your name and kiss you again and again as your bodies curl inward.

"I wonder what that means, Hyeju," you say.

"Fuck," Hyeju groans as you slide further into her, pushing her back into the sofa - hands on her shoulders, legs bent on her either side, "don't tease me like this.")

-

The first snowfall of the year is mild, a tiny dusting, nothing that sticks on the pavement in the alley or on the sidewalks - or the lintels - or in Hyeju's hair, but by evening, when the snow picks up and everything goes quiet, Hyeju has changed into flannels and wool socks in anticipation, curled up like a cat at one edge of the window ledge as the world begins to go white. It's enough that you even pull on a thicker sweatshirt, open up a book, and join her.

She turns toward you, quiet.

You've reached a point in the semester where this, the silence, doesn't unsettle you anymore. It's the space you fill up with time in-between, where you can see the contours of her body against the orange lamplight of the space heater, or watch her kick off the top half of the duvet at night as you fight over space in her bed and wonder about the bare skin peeking out from her shorts.

"Feeling bored?" She slides her foot a little closer to yours, almost imperceptibly. "Am I keeping you entertained enough?"

Her lips pull up at the corner. You chuckle.

"Oh, no."

She scoffs and puts her hands on her knees, pushes herself closer to the window sill and bumps her elbow into your shoulder. The bare skin of her neck and shoulders and face is getting a little redder as she cranes it forward. "Okay, if not, do you need someone to entertain you, maybe."

Your mouth twists, fighting a smile.

Hyeju is so close to you, you could kiss her really, really easily and not care how she'd feel about that. It's not a habit, not as often as it used to be, but every once and a while - she starts this game. Every once in a while, Hyeju just starts smiling like that, and leans into you like she's daring you to play along, hard round of chicken until it's clear what the two of you are doing with each other; the minutes pass by, one, then two, and then - maybe she pushes first, her leg on yours, or a kiss to your jaw or a palm on your back as she walks behind you - and then you'd turn and kiss her full on the mouth and pull at her clothes like nothing's holding you back.

She cocks a smile, and says, "why don't you go and call what's her name."

"Because."

You glance out at the cold, gray light outside. If you had a better understanding of any of the workings inside you, you could reach forward and tell her everything that's stopped you.

-

You're supposed to meet the girl-of-the-month at a New Year's party. Hyeju looks disgusted within the first ten seconds of the whole story.

"Heejin dumped you once, like, two months ago? For no reason."

"It wasn't a break-up. We talked about what we did wrong and we're doing better," you say, lifting one finger.

She glares, then, tilts her lips into this unamused purse that you can't take seriously at all when she starts walking back and forth across your living room, hands moving emphatically to the sides as she speaks, like she's in the process of unveiling a brilliant argument and is using both palms to guide your eyes toward the unquestionable logic. "God, you're the worst. You're just her easy fuck and you'll still answer her late night calls, really."

She leaves the rest unsaid - that she's just not that into you.

"I don't tell you which boys or girls you can call up," you try, putting on a boot. "If you'd like, I can. Name off the list, and make sure that the right name leaves my mouth this time."

Hyeju doesn't blush when you glance up, which is the surprising thing. No - her cheeks have grown a little more sullen, and she stares down at her socks in contemplation. You're in the middle of fastening up the lace and getting to your feet, waiting, wondering if Hyeju's going to continue this conversation, when Hyeju takes one small step forward.

And her hand goes out to touch your chin, thumb at your lip, fingers holding it in place - like you'll turn if she lets it go - the sharp shock of the sensation like a short circuit, before her knee comes between yours, and your body tingles, at the root and stem. "Hey," she says, eyes meeting yours. The edge of her nail flicking gently as she drags the curve of her thumb downward.

"Hyeju, please - I need to get going."

When you start walking toward your car, she calls out from the window. Something about how you better have the time of your life, fun for the two of you - it’s only fair.

(You feel, somewhere, a certain strange loss.)

"What, are you going to stay up and wait until I come back? Or am I interrupting your session for the night."

You can barely make it out, the smallest look passing over her face. "Maybe," she says, and then: "god, it's fucking cold."

-

New year's parties have this sort of quality of being simultaneously the most thrilling, exciting prospect on earth and the absolute worst fucking event in the history of the planet - depending on the venue, how egregious the racket is for a gin and tonic, the guests - oh, and the company.

Jinsoul and Choerry are both in attendance; in separate corners and in equal states of undress and intoxication, which seems fine by every present party, who are for the most part busy ogling one or the other in the full spirit of the New Year - as you would too, if the stars are aligned and Heejin hasn't already gone upstairs with half the guestlist, her arm wound with someone else's, as per her recent habit; if you haven't been tossed aside for any of the usual, less forgettable prospects and for something bigger, better and certainly much more enjoyable.

Which, if there were any way to track these things down with math, you'd already be reaching for your pen and notebook, as Hyeju would describe this sensation in a phrase she picked up from some podcast. Inevitable means necessary, or something.

"Good party," says Heejin, throwing back another drink.

"Yep. You said that," and you finish yours in one long draw, hissing through your teeth.

Heejin is a goddamn delight, of course, in all the simplest of ways. When she looks up at you - mouth pink, hair framing her face - she is so clearly and completely aware of what she is, and exactly what the world has in store for her, what it has set aside.

"Do you want to know what happened at the other New Year’s party we went to last year?"

"I - yeah. Hit me. Tell me all about (another date you were on) Heejin, that’s exactly what I’d love, let’s hear it."

She throws her head back and laughs, before starting into an overlong recount of her latest, greatest conquest, you on the outside. This is the thing - this is how a pretty face, with just a hint of a flirt, will make you feel for a beautiful, attractive, vivacious - absolutely shameless, raving sex-crazed lunatic of sorts who, apparently, loves to run around town and make a bunch of your closest friends fall in love and heartbroke-er, with every passing notion of her beauty, her charm - just the tilt of her chin, and some poor fucker is lost, absolutely lost.

 Even she knows it's a bad habit of hers. 

But who doesn't have a weakness? You've got plenty of your own - plenty, Heejin can admit - everyone does, in a way, and so Heejin, the other sloppy drunks milling about the party, and Choerry and Jinsoul all agree - someone like her just happens to have the best kind of weakness - so, so many of them, in fact:

"Can you believe how easily a few words get Jinsoul riled up? Or how it only takes a couple drinks for Choerry to pull up the hem of her skirt, not knowing the effect that'll have?"

And as for the last, and arguably worst kind -

"Hyeju, huh? What a great start to the New Year," is her final word. Heejin reaches across and downs your drink. Her expression turns just shy of grave, a pensive look. "Not your smartest idea, the living-together situation. Who in their right mind would put themselves in such a mess?"

"Thanks for the great advice." You wave her off, irritated.

There's another laugh before Heejin leans her face onto the table.

"Though maybe she's onto something, now that I think of it. Who needs anyone for the New Year?" and it's almost convincing the way her mouth, lined up with the rim of the glass, smirks when she drinks. "Mm. All a matter of taste."

-

The snow is halfway up your calves when you realize you need to find a cab at 11:30 PM on New Year's Eve. (Which, categorically, is the worst time to need to find a cab on New Year’s Eve.)

Or just:

11:36 PM and the nearest bus stop is too far away.

11:41 and the temperature feels like its dropped by fifteen degrees, like you should start wondering what hypothermia symptoms look like and what signs to look out for in yourself, your future wife and your children. You try not to think about why, but you get your phone out and immediately call Hyeju, so you're not sure what you think you're denying.

"No party?" she asks. Her voice is distant and sleep-ridden, but Hyeju's quick to pick up, like always.

"It sucked, I'm trying to find a way home early. Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year." There's a long pause, filled in by the squeak of snow beneath your boots. "Get a kiss?"

"Uh, not yet. In the market, I guess."

Hyeju's low hum isn't reassuring, either. "Well, you're kind of missing your window. Bad time to start looking."

"Says you, and here you are - still up for someone to spend the night with. Look at you," you respond, all this snark in your voice that she clearly hears. There's a long sigh.

"Actually," and Hyeju, much to the confusion of you and possibly the whole world, doesn't respond, and for a few seconds, the line goes completely silent, leaving you hanging.

She breathes once and comes out of her sleep with a yawn.

"I actually," she begins. There's a lot less preamble this time - this tone - and when she speaks again it comes through not nearly as sleepy, "was sorta wondering. Are you on your way home?"

"If I don't freeze to death, yeah."

"Yeah - no, yeah," and that's it. That's the sum total of what makes any difference between where you were a moment ago, and where you are right now, head spinning, fingers buzzing. Hyeju waits and there's the wind on the line, snow settling on your hat and in the corners of your face.

"I - sorry. I probably woke you up. Are you expecting someone else," you say, very small. Your foot drags behind the other. The cars whizz by you faster, passing.

"Hm. You're the only one, I guess," and after that - just static and the muffled sounds of her footsteps on creaky floorboards - or the tick of her ceiling fan? You can't make heads or tails of the rest of the background noise. All those words she said.

You bite your tongue to stop whatever curse words start pouring out from the jumble and cross streets, or the pedestrian underpass; snow gets stuck in your lashes and burns, but your chest is like a molten furnace. You consider telling her right there on the line, everything you're feeling - so hot, it feels like fire, Hyeju, I'm not used to getting heated and desperate and impatient - that even if you're not here now - just imagining your face - the sound of your breathing, it feels like I'm on the cusp.

"Yeah. Sure - good - okay, Hyeju."

"I guess, see you soon?"

"In a bit."

(It takes 33 minutes, trudging through cold and wet. It's all very dramatic, you think, and there's no one there to even watch you suffer for it, or - though you try not to think about that particular line - really, no one at all.)

-

You hear the way your key grinds in the lock - it's been like this, jammed since summer, when you pushed the front door in late at night a little too hard and something came undone and made a sound like a small stone tumbling down the world's deepest well. The hinge squeaks, and there's ice on the stoop, on the doormat, on every nook and corner you can see, all the way up your neck.

And your face, too. You shake off your hat, undo the buttons on your jacket, and pull off your boots before hanging them and all the layers to dry.

You can make out the outline of her profile at the edge of the door frame, right in the kitchen - barefoot, hip pressed against the island, pajamas - the dim lights illuminating the shadow of her head, hair over her face -

- but you don't pause. The next layer. There's nothing left to say. You're too cold for excuses, too smart to use the same ones you'd been taught, like: this is a normal, acceptable circumstance; everything, anything, will be perfectly normal if the two of us act as though that's the case; pretend we're both acting within the norms of reason, within our senses and logical thinking and I won't make myself go out in the cold a second more - won't stand for more than five minutes with your eyes looking like they're waiting.

So you move instead toward the kitchen, where the heating is better and she's already pouring coffee. There's a heat radiating out of the oven, and it smells sweet in there, like cinnamon and warm butter, and you wish you weren't still shaking, blood barely thawed, but there it is - her face, watching you - eyes gleaming as you wrap your hands around a mug, steam rising up - a shiver running up your arms; her knees skirting yours when she takes one step back and there's the cabinet door shut, then open again, and then a palm on your back.

Hyeju presses a cup of the fresh coffee, now warm enough to drink, to your chest, and says, softly. "What the fuck happened out there?"

She starts reaching out to wipe the frost and slush from your face. You let her hand hold you still, eyes wide.

"Oh you know," and her palm stays, even though it's obviously - suddenly - gotten warmer, and wetter too, and the longer she stands there and lets her fingers warm the pale bones of your cheeks, her wrist, the base of your forehead and ears, the more expectant the look on her face grows. "The usual."

Her eyes go as narrow as they ever can. For just a moment. "You're gonna die a slow, pathetic death someday, just for the record."

"Don't forget how this starts," you try, and feel your neck go warm, throat and breath tight. And not even when her shoulders shift, her mouth going smug - just looking at you.

“I mean, don’t you think,” Hyeju says, wagging a finger at you, “that when you suffer through a bad date, the world ought to owe you something?”

"Like what?" you ask.

"Better taste in women - maybe more orgasms; I dunno, a blowjob?" She shrugs. "The general idea is just that someone gets to cum."

You nearly choke on the air in front of you. "Jesus, Hyeju, warn a guy."

“What? I’m trying to commiserate with you,” Hyeju laughs. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Being able to kiss someone you actually, you know, might love you back, and at the same time. Imagine not hooking-up just to forget a shitty day. Sounds wild, right?"

"Utterly deranged."

"So wild."

When Hyeju sighs and gives a long, nonchalant hum, leaning her body closer, pressing up until her waist hits the cabinet top and you're pressed together chest-to-chest, she looks at you and her hips settle, the heel of her foot reaching around your calf.

There's that tingle. Again and again. You're not even trying to not think about what it might mean.

But then, you start, silently and unconsciously, trying to answer the question: why don't you, maybe. Why don't you, actually - Hyeju kisses you, pulls on the loop of your jeans and lets your lips brush the corners of hers and pulls away, suddenly, mumbling and head-turning. And just as abruptly, your nose buries in the space between her neck and her shoulder, where it's all warm. And when she puts her palms on your hips and squeezes and twists her knuckles into the fabric there, it seems she wants your hands up her shirt and under the small of her back.

And her hands - they're fidgety tonight, fingers curled up to keep their nails and the chill away, moving lower - one on your ass, while the other comes forward and begins rubbing circles, a handful of times - enough so you're letting a deep, low breath escape into the space just above her collar, your knee working its way between hers.

"That," Hyeju breathes, lips at your ear, hand reaching down to trace the hard curve of your cock pressing in the spot right between you, and there's that small rush again, familiar now, like you've caught a rhythm and she wants to feel it in its fullness: "is how you can make it up to me. For making me stay up. Worrying about you, god knows why. Waiting."

You're still half-frozen in a way, slowly thawing. "Hyeju, I've been trudging through the consequences of my actions this entire night. What am I about to suffer through now?"

"It's no consequence, honestly."

You squint.

"Just an idea, but," she breathes again; your bodies getting closer, and looking up at you, she grins and reaches down to touch the very root of you, her fingers drumming. You make a sound, and at that she says, her voice coming out thick, low:

"Want me to get you off?"

She squeezes again for good measure, just to be clear. Just a slight curl of fingers that's enough to send a flash of heat and the transient thought: why, why, why is she always wearing those fucking shorts, even in the winter?

Your blood thrums through the pulse at the end of your cock. You shake.

"Alright," is the response you let out.

And at that, Hyeju takes your wrist and leads you upstairs.

"There's that look. Don't worry. We'll find a way," is all she says as your feet walk forward, up step-by-step and higher and further up to her room. "After all, isn't that what we've always done?"

"It's usually whatever will make me stop talking."

Hyeju puts her chin on your shoulder. Her eyes follow the lines and shapes in the patterns of wallpaper as you turn onto her side of the apartment, and even through the wall and behind the doorway, her arm still around you, she pulls at your chin until your faces turn and you both can share each other's heat.

"Who, you and your awful habit of talking out-loud in your head while you work through equations?" and she brings her lips to yours, close and warm.

"Hey. Fuck you," and your voice breaks into an odd, low laughter when she kisses you harder.

"Yeah, I know," she whispers as her hand dives past the band of your boxers, palm sliding easily until she's gripping you fully and letting her fingers rub. She holds you there, in her room, her arm looped through yours, another arm resting at your belly.

And she stops there. She stays like that: holding your gaze.

"Look, Hyeju," you say, unable to not, though this can hardly count for anything; this, what you're about to admit, is nothing new. You swallow. "The thing is - you shouldn't."

"Don't want me to touch you?" she says, finger to your lips.

"Well, that's different. Maybe. Is there - maybe it's not the best thing to ask you right now."

Hyeju considers for a brief moment and tuts under her breath. "Can you at least do me the decency of waiting until I'm done wringing you dry before you say shit like that."

And she moves then, toward the bed.

So:

No. Yes. Maybe. Who knows, you tell yourself. Maybe, but only because you'll do anything if it makes you feel less sick, like a creature standing over its own skeleton - an abandoned shell; a relic, something to be feared and disgusted, as you let her go between your thighs, kneel beside the bed.

"I mean - since when - have you felt," is just as far as you're allowed to go before Hyeju presses her nose into you and pulls you out of the thin, cold fabric - palm, thumb, all those slender fingers swiping over your head - and now there's just the smell of her room and the shock, the buzz that runs down your spine and settles somewhere, somewhere inside the small and desperate movement of your hips and the tension building just below.

And god, fuck, Hyeju’s lips.

These soft, wet, pouty fucking things that could suck you straight off if you were feeling any less stupid or inexperienced or sentimental - if she wasn't solely intent on teasing it out of you first; a slow drag of the tongue up the underside; the tip of it poking, tracing the rim, like she's figured you out, just where to lead you. She's ready to smoke you out - always - until you're not taking in a breath every ten seconds but starting to close your eyes to the overwhelming, needling pleasure, too sharp, the way she knows you like best.

"Now you're finally - mm - starting to sound hot," and that smirk comes back to the corner of her mouth, teasing the sensitive belly of your cock and tracing her tongue everywhere. "With the voice and -"

You're losing track, her thumb and fingers circling the whole length of you - just, one after the other - mouth a hair-breadth away, her breath hovering like a promise.

"- that face."

"Don't, fucking tease me-"

The sound of your cock going in is like nothing else.

Wet and filthy in all the right ways.

Just the suction in her throat has your eyes nearly roll back into your head - Hyeju's gaze calmly watching the terrible sort of helplessness that washes over you like this: her lips wrapped around, bobbing - her hair falling into the wet mess of her mouth and sticking there. Hyeju likes being a little sloppy, likes feeling that spark run up the length of her tongue when she slides. It's the wet and the heat that gives everything away.

"I don't have much of a choice -" her jaw and chin is smudged when she pulls back off of your cock, mouth glossy and glistening, "and honestly, wouldn't it be a better use of our time, or my talents if I actually do that thing?"

“Which is?”

She looks up for a bit and sighs, the flush blooming pink to the tip of her ears and into the rounds of her cheeks and all across her neck. "Since, as far as I can see, what you really like - is, oh I'm just spit-balling here," and she stops just to bite her tongue and look into your eyes, "it's letting the girls take care of you? Isn't that right?"

You want to tell her, no, not always, that it's not as though you enjoy giving control completely - that that would be completely and unarguably, the opposite of true -

That most of the time you love it when the person you're with is a little bossy, a little crazy for you. You know some guys really get off on a strong woman and maybe, maybe if a girl's pretty and dressed up, and - sure - a little wet, but that's hardly -

“You know I’m right,” she says, a flicker of mischief skittering across her features. “These walls are paper thin.”

You want to tell her, perhaps remind her, that she likes someone in charge just as much as you do - to be taken care of, told what to do - to have a hand curled up around her throat and the other at her tits while a guy fucks her the right way and takes the reigns when she needs. So who are you, when it comes to knowing her better? And who, really, are you fooling?

But before you can get any words in: Hyeju dips, lips parting where the head of your cock throbs, and then disappears; and the hot wet warmth, enveloping all around your shaft and back; the curve of her throat contracting.

You moan - a lot, and louder this time - into the whole feeling. The way her fingers work the distance from the base, twisting and twisting and twisting into the pout of her lips; or how the sound is like nothing - a whimpering, messy sound - almost a whine and definitely not a slurp as your cock sinks further and further, until it's all one big, heavy throb.

And it's like Hyeju can read your thoughts, the visual you have of her lips screwed tight around your shaft - cum leaking from the corners, and her eyes scrunched up tight, as she looks up to watch your face unravel - this perfect image of her taking you, all of you, swallowing each drop as your hips start rutting up into her and - and - and.

Or else she gets impatient, because then Hyeju gives one long pull off the tip of your cock - saliva mixed in the precum there, and that shiny string of fluid hanging, caught in the middle between your bodies - a disgusting and irresistible sight. Her jaw slack, lips swollen and full, and her mouth gone wide open, wanting.

"Fuck - that's good. Don't stop," you start to whimper, desperate, at the sight, the smell. Her hot breath coming quick over the red wanting wetness left behind - then touched by the cold air - fuck -

She slaps your cock to the corner of her lips as she speaks.

"Can you believe what's going on down here?"

"God, can you -"

"And to think most guys wanna jump straight in. That or fuck a load out between my tits."

"Hyeju, shit, come on -"

She kisses the soft tip, right where it’s most sensitive, rolls it along her lip. Then, back down the length of your shaft where she's generous with her mouth inch after inch - lapping, licking, laving - and Hyeju begins working her way down and downward, nestling in at the edge of the bed and between your thighs.

Your eyes blow up the first time she dips low enough to put your balls in her mouth. 

“Mmhm,” she hums.

It’s killing you and she knows it; it’s killing you and she can feel the pre-cum leaking from your slit - the thumb she has moored there, keeping everything right where she wants it, running circles up the length with such little intention - she could bring you to the end just like this. 

"Am I supposed to believe it?” she asks out from beneath the shadow of your cock, looking up at you with her eyes all wide and brilliant - pupils dark as sin. “That not a single one of those girls ever did you proper?"

You curse under your breath. Hyeju seems amused, at least, like she can't help but love doing that to you, which is almost worse and honestly the sexiest thing a girl can be. You groan - wanton, raw and desperate and feeling exactly what she wants you to feel when her nails drag along the dip of your hip bones.

"Did they not leave you fucked-up the right way?"

Her wrist flicks out these twists and turns, making your spine bend to her control. Like even when you're sure to be bundling her hair in your fingers and fucking the whole length of your cock down her throat, all of this is the worst kind of power-trip for her - not the other way around.

Her tongue runs through the tangle of your balls, slowly, lasciviously, as though the plan is to memorize and map every detail. 

And the worst part is, how much it's making you desperate for the warmth of her mouth - where she'll run her tongue up and down and over and around and inside - before sucking you off nice and slow.

"Or maybe," she laughs; another flick to the top and then suddenly her hand goes faster and the fist pumping the rest of you tightens. "They left you so needy you're resorting to having the bestie suck you off so that you won't be desperate the next time you date. Oh my god-" 

Hyeju breaks into this fit of laughter, and you're nearly cross-eyed at the feeling of your entire existence - not just your cock - so wholly held within her mercy, and her pity, and you're breathing so shallow now you'd think this is the real reason people have died and will die - this exact moment where you're choking and stuttering at the edges, so very close to cumming and going absolutely bonkers with how good Hyeju is with her hands, her tongue, her mouth - everything - how much she's wrecking you, and your jaw drops, wide open, her name dripping like molasses off your lower lip.

"Are you going to cum?" she asks, curiously. All as if she can't see you nodding, collapsing under pressure, and then and there: "should we make it official?"

Her nose tickles the seam of your balls. And your toes begin to curl and uncurl - all this anticipatory, coiling pleasure burning from her throat, shooting from the pit of your stomach; the tightening spiral, twinging and stretching every nerve - as her lips enclose around the end of your cock, softly.

And oh, just excruciatingly slowly.

You watch the irresistible shape of her mouth travel down until her throat feels so incredibly, beautifully, and unbelievably tight, and then, just like that - Hyeju starts fucking herself onto you; pushing forward and down the full, rigid length of you, hard and fast - each time hitting deeper inside her - all that sticky, messy, wet squelching.

"Unh-unh, yeah. Unh. Mm-!" you say, or moan, or some animal version of that, maybe, it’s incoherent.

But regardless:

It's messy and your hands scramble for purchase in the sheets of her bed when you feel that snap, the tightening of a trigger; when your balls roll up and it builds, and builds, and it comes faster - harder and -

"Hyeju," you pant, and it sounds so, so filthy. "I'm gonna cum, if you - gonna cum-"

Hyeju pulls you free from her lips, quite possibly at the most final of final moments, to rub the base up and down, just right, between her fingers. Your cock is resting right on her cheek when it all happens. When she squeezes her fingers around your balls just enough to hear you wheeze and make a sound no sane man should have the right to. And fuck, you're cumming all over her face - or just one side of it - which is already just -

Okay, fuck.

She makes a startled sound and her fist closes tightly around your shaft when you pump another fresh load of white up onto her eyebrow.

"I'm, ah-shit," your mouth moves faster than the blood in your veins - and now the shame - oh god, the humiliation, it's pulsing right behind you. "Hyeju," you apologize.

Only, Hyeju has no interest in any of it. She doesn't seem offended or disappointed in proportion to how you're ruining her pretty face: "no, just do it, cum wherever you fucking like."

Which isn't what you're expecting at all, because Hyeju makes no effort to close her lips, let alone avoid any of it; nor is she making a fuss about the sticky mess in her hair, her mouth, nor as another stream of cum throbs from your cock, all tangled up in the long dark eyelashes that sweep down across her cheek.

It’s fucking filthy: you're cumming all over her and she's just kneeling there, telling you, "good boy."

See, she pushes through it, languidly - all those filthy sounds, and those watery little tears gathering at the edge of her eye and all of that, mixing up together until you're rolling your head back with your orgasm, shuddering, feeling weak - drained dry -

Except,

Hyeju's pushing a finger to your chest, kneeling up tall from the side of the bed. She turns her body toward the center of the bed and wipes a bit of the cum on her knuckles into the sheets. Here you feel like you've done something terrible or at least regrettable, like that last round at the bar when you have a test the next morning; a dick move, all of the sort that requires apology.

"You gotta give me a minute, if you're thinking about hopping on."

"Hmm. Sounds like a lot to ask."

"Wait," you grab her arm. Hyeju grins and there's nothing stopping the shake of your knees now, that weakness between your thighs: "let me get you a drink."

"Or."

"Or?"

Her tongue peeks out, running along her upper lip. Her eyes drop again, hands dipping below, beneath the hem of her shorts and oh. She slips a hand past her bra. The whole outline of it. And you -

"Mm, I could show you what that actually means." She lowers her chest, her breasts, and a lot of skin to the mattress while keeping your cock firmly in her hands. "That look tells me you wanna stick around a bit. Stay up past New Year’s, you know?"

You're almost unable to parse her words, there is so much to look at: the jutting curve of her chest, cleavage pressing into the mattress as her body settles between your knees. A soft chuckle; a sigh: "you are seriously the best lay, no-one else can get hard the minute after they just fucking exploded all over me-"

"Fuck, watch it," you hiss, because there's oversensitivity - and then there's Hyeju's mouth on the line of your cock, polishing you clean.

And it’s not that she isn’t trying to prove a point. Or that she's not trying to tease - that's an inherent quality of her character: a naturally dominant position with a high appetite for your lust. That much, Hyeju gets from you, whether you've got your head down between her thighs or the other way, too, so that her neck is arched around and her ass pushed up high in the air, legs open, and if she had any idea you would spend the next twenty minutes or more just going down on her, licking into her creaming cunt while two fingers work over her aching clit, then really, Hyeju would only encourage it - maybe get on top, force you to gag - and so you don't know where it comes from - how and why you want nothing more than to drive your fingers inside her and work her until she's a wet, squelching mess, not when this was always Hyeju's role of being the aggressor; and yes, sure, even the aggressed.

Surely not because you came so hard, still somewhat shivering with the remnants of a rather abrupt, painful, sudden and all-consuming orgasm.

"We're not doing anything else," she says, lips pulled up into a smirk right at the crown of your cockhead. But before you can respond she pushes a hot open kiss, and goes lower. She presses the flat of her tongue to the seam, just below the head. Licks a line right up to the tip and finishes with a tender flick that sends you fisting the bedspread in your fingers and leaning back as your mind begins to disintegrate -

"I'm not going to ride you yet, or going to get my hips in your hands so you can fuck my pussy real hard until I cry and pass out. Nothing of that sort is gonna happen." She licks one long drag of her tongue. Then, the other way. "I want to make this very clear: this isn't some huge favor - and if you want it - want it so bad, you can stay there and I'm going to do everything for you. We will get there - together," and with her voice shaking as she brings the wet, glistening skin of your cock just inside her mouth, she looks up. "We'll get each other off, just like this," and it's the deep, dark, throated moan that makes your thighs and all the nerves in between stiffen and buck when she swallows you again.

Hyeju's hands tug, pull her whole body closer still as it slowly bends, curves - her ass raised, her stomach lying on the bed. Her mouth takes you another few inches, until the tip of her nose is barely visible, but when she pauses to lick the cum still left over - the cum that's starting to leak out again - to breathe through it, then squeeze her palm and bob her mouth down, take another inch, until the sides are stuffed and emptying out again, that's when she finally has something to say: "got anything left? I'm a little starved."

"I. Christ, yes-" you whine, which doesn't help your case at all: the image, the image of you lying flat - back with Hyeju's head tucked between your knees, her hand pulling out your cock.

Sloppy, slimy-wet.

She presses an innocent, not-at-all-innocent kiss right to your tip, puckering - 

"You know what I did learn in that genetics class?" she muses, tongue flicking over her lips. Hyeju's about ready for a second helping - you're losing it. "When I first saw that DNA diagram - the double helix and all those little base pairs, and everything - it made me think of your cock. Your cock and me. Specifically our DNA. Did you know-"

She presses her palm over the head and rolls it - teases and strokes her palm - her knuckles - her fist - the whole nine. "When I hold your big fucking cock, mm, and just get it right - up in here, rubbing all along my walls - so deep, it gets me in my fucking ribs, makes me choke like I never been choked before, ah-mm," and it's this thought sliding toward the front of your mind, this perfect picture: Hyeju, getting fucked hard and open and stuffed full and stuffed good and stupid; you’ve got more than a few inches on her, can make her feel small and delicate; you know how to do her right.

But here you have Hyeju stroking the shaft - holding her hand tightly up near the head, rolling and twisting and sliding down and pushing her whole body right into the side of your legs: the soft, solid length, warm flesh and curves everywhere pressing into you.

You sit back, and just watch Hyeju with her eyes cool and composed, like half of her fucking face isn't streaked with your cum, mouth wrapped and looking fucking satisfied to be a total, gorgeous mess. She makes a dramatic display of kissing the tip again, just before telling you words you probably dreamt up at some point - either sleep deprived, or, during three AM jackoff, fantasizing. "Sometimes, just from riding your cock, I can't sit up straight."

"Fuck," and you feel your whole body run rigid, because apparently that's something you’ve been aching to hear.

You're covering her mouth again. White streaking onto her lips - where she's catching it in the well beneath her tongue and letting it spill out of the corner of her mouth. Into the crook of your thumb, which catches a drip here and there and rubs it down the length - down the curve - and pushes it back between Hyeju's pert little pout.

"Doesn't count, mister, just more pre-cum," she says, all with the audacity of a wink and smile; her words are a little garbled around the head of your cock between her teeth. And when you nod and realize just how painfully your jaw hurts, your throat becomes tight and raw, a knot pulling the underside from the center. Hyeju slides her lips lower, lower down, to the hilt and stays there, just like that - one hand holding down the flat of your belly to keep your hips still, her chin hanging - bobbing-as she feels every pulse, every twitching shift. You curl one hand around the side of her face, over the sharp edge of her jaw; rub a thumb into the delicate skin of her throat.

She shifts. You start to tell her what you like: how hot the rush comes when a girl puts her tongue against the slit at the very tip, and licks at the precum in nice, quick circles, soft and fluttering. And how her fingers shouldn't hesitate either, Hyeju's not even struggling to give it to you - god - just giving and -

She jerks her head up, swallowing down her next breath like it's one of her last. "I'm serious, if you're going to fuck a hole, start with my mouth - we can move onto everything else after."

"You're ridiculous -"

She meets her lips to your head, kissing once. Again. Kissing every inch, letting her mouth wrap around and then just - staying, just - staying like that and humming, with you, enjoying the fullness, the smell of you, the taste, the shape, just the weight and size and you.

There is spit fucking everywhere.

And if it's not clear what you're supposed to be doing - her fingers weave through yours, squeezing hard at the wrist and you can imagine: pulling her forward by her hair and holding her down while she chokes on your cock. "Fuck, Hyeju," you say, and your voice comes out way shakier than you'd like, "when, how did it get like this, huh? You always - always did, shit, always want your mouth filled."

"Never figured you to be someone who'd get turned on watching their friend sucking their cock like this."

"Doesn't everybody love the sight of their cock in a pretty girl's mouth?

"You were really convinced they weren't lining up behind you? Or anyone in the queue who can't keep their eyes off of this thing. Tell me, and try not to lie, try not to bullshit this one out: how many girls have you come home and fucked and creamed their brains out - then asked for the sloppiest, most -"

"Honestly."

"- Filthiest, nasty, ball-busting, gut-wrenching blowjob ever to make them think - to make them really start wondering what the hell it was you did - like it's gotta be something that leaves them so ruined, they can't ever not compare - can't ever not compare this moment, right here. Ever. When you give them the hardest fucking of their life, compared to any other guy - can't not, because no-one, literally no-one's cock can fuck like you do-"

"Fuck-"

"Any harder. Come on, seriously, tell me it isn't true. Come on."

Her voice - her fucking words, the tone she uses and how her words roll: honey-warm and soaking with sweet, thick degradation - she talks like sex, and that's exactly what gets you harder, like it’s something else; like it’s nothing, like it’s less, so much worse - you feel this guilty-dirty heat pool at your tailbone and push down the hard press of you throbbing all the way to her nose. And Hyeju smiles as much as she's capable around the fat, round stretch, humming around the warm taste of you, before opening wide and sinking her throat on it.

There's nothing like it.

You've got two fists in her hair; she's so tight and wet around every god-damn inch. Her cheeks flush - hot to the touch; her tongue laving in slow, long drags, slicking your shaft nice and warm until you're balls-deep and pushing her further: a small shift to the hips, a push here, a harder, faster pull, and Hyeju's feet behind her go curling like an angry cat, wanting the tug.

A long, satisfied breath slips from the hollows of her throat.

There are tears threatening, thickening her lashes, and though she doesn't choke - you're just afraid. Every sound that she pulls out, her eyes blinking up to you as if it's only natural to love getting used by her friend's cock, like the very premise of it - swallowing down the very shape of you, dragged over her tongue and brushing cum into the back of her throat - is something she can’t go without.

But this is nothing compared to the noises from where her lips are pressed tight around you, where you're hearing and even feeling:

That gluck, gluck - where her chest spasms just the slightest when her nose gets nuzzled right into your belly and you remember how much she likes to hear you talk dirty, how fucking wet it gets her. The heavy, deep breaths, gasps; the strangled moans when your hips just buck - the heat and the thrill, and this is better than every other time because there's just something in this moment -

"I'm not gonna come again, not like this. Not in your mouth. You can’t-"

But Hyeju refuses to hear a word; just pumps your shaft faster, feeling it's familiar hardness grow and throb and ache and retch, all her effort paying off: you're slick with precum and spit, hard and straining, the whole shaft begging for release - all because of her. And Hyeju won't stop, she pushes her cheek onto your thigh and then taps a hand there to pull your hips. The motion drives your cock further still inside her. Until it’s bathed in her spit, your cum, all this mess.

Until it's reaching, choking her, and the muffled sounds she's making are filthy and wet and so incredulously hot.

But god. Hyeju has something of a temper and a habit, too: with those big beautiful eyes and the perfect plump of her pouting lips, her tits swelling up around, when your grip slips on her shoulder, and her mouth goes tighter - how the pleasure begins to make you unbearably cruel and you push her away from you, only for a second -

She doesn't wait or seem to care; Hyeju follows the cock with her whole head and whimpers so hotly in her throat when it plops right back on her tongue. "That's more - more like - fuck, oh, there we go," her nose and fingers prodding.

You groan through a high, strangled whimper, a helpless shiver that turns into an uncontrollable roll of the hips - you can't believe it: she's already so thoroughly debauched and defaced; just fucking painted with it. Your cum dripping off her chin and rolling down her neck.

"Fuck - gonna make me - ah, Jesus -"

When Hyeju seems to have reached her fill, the feeling, you're cumming - pumping the length of your shaft. And the moment she feels you twitch and throb and that first hot spill lands in the bend of her mouth, it's as if she understands and holds herself tight - her legs going stock-still while your eyes blow up behind her, your cock spewing another and then another thick, milky load into her mouth, over her tongue: all along the topography of her throat - sticky cum landing in every ridge and valley -

Hyeju catches as much as she can. What little she can. You cum and pump and gush so much that when you're finally finished - done - every last drop spent and given - your cock throbs soft between her fingers; her chin is a complete and utter mess and her chest heaves with the sound of her catching her own breath. Hyeju groans softly and just swishes the load around in her mouth for a bit as if wanting to remember its feel and weight before lifting her eyes to look into yours. You can just barely see the color.

"Jesus, Hyeju-"

The entire bit of it, slick and shining-wet. With a small moan, a sound from the back of her throat: one swallow and the cum is gone, disappeared, vanished. She smiles like she didn't just ruin your entire goddamn life and, with her body limp and exhausted beside you - her gentle hand rubbing a flat stroke over your thigh before yours slips up to meet her chin.

"You," you curse and roll your eyes, catching the mess at the edge of her jaw, the very little left in the corners of her lips. You feed the cum over her bottom lip - her chin, her throat - watching your friend: Hyeju's throat, bobbing. "Really didn't have to," you start, but you realize just how useless a point it is to make.

She's smiling and biting and showing you what's left between the tips of her canines. "Do you always do this to the people who suck you off?"

"That's an awful habit. A pretty girl's lips aren't meant to get that messy," you reply.

"Oh." She frowns. "Well, I do a lot of things I shouldn't."

"God, seriously," and you think there's no greater hell, no sweeter pain than whatever's lingering in these little aftershocks - this fizzling and dying sort of pain, where the body is buzzed with all you're aching for. It's impossible to stop this train of thoughts, is the fucking feeling of her-

But just then, Hyeju rises to her knees, a new spark in her eyes, as she grabs ahold of your wrist and tugs you off the sheets, a few inches closer.

"And you," she purrs as she drags the palm of your hand across her neck and collarbone, collecting what remains and making the perfect image, "well - you are going to help clean me up, like you said before." She sits tall; the arch of her spine is pronounced - her back, so, very, slightly tapering, to where your hand slips right off the last of it: the wide flare of her hips. "Now isn't that the gentleman's thing to do?" she asks.

"Of course." You sigh, resigned and in desperate need of water. "Of course," you add and smirk a little and slip your hand lower, toward where her skin is getting hot, and her body, "let's get you clean."

"Mm." She's already grinning. "You know what wasn't in those textbooks?"

"Oh, I can only guess." You bite your cheek and start to lower yourself back. "Give it a try."

Hyeju drags you by the wrist toward the hall, the bathroom, ostensibly the shower -

"There's no way in hell you don't want to put a baby in me, like, right fucking now."

"Is that what we're doing?"

Hyeju makes a face like you're stupid - she might've grabbed a towel on the way out. She wipes her chin a little while walking - the corner of her mouth where, well - where it looks like a little dribble has somehow remained. "No. But you’re going to fuck me like it is."

-

(There's got so much on her mind. 

The door of the shower rattling in its frame as she struggles standing up against it. Getting fucked so fast and full, the feeling of both your hands cupped beneath the weight of her breasts. It's not the fact of where you are and your situation, per say - more about the immediate, the imperative nature. About fucking you. She was already feeling herself like, leaking the moment the door shut, so all that waiting, all that patience, really - and it's what drove her insane when you were, well: like that, after she put her mouth around your cock, made a right and proper mess of herself, and sucked you off.

Though there's less on her mind, clearly, when she cums all over your cock.

She's crying with her tits up onto the glass, your palm holding her ribs. Your cum-slick cock working itself hard again as it slips, back and forth, as you're fucking her open, spread apart. It's your finger in her asshole. That's what's on her mind then. How the press of your knuckle lights her entire fucking spine on fire - how the other hand finds her clit in all this, too, when you're no longer supporting the both of you but rather Hyeju is folding on her bent knee and trusting, on shaking and shivering, raw nerves, that you're not going to collapse.

"Fucking. God, please-"

There's the harsh slap of flesh - skin on wet skin, your palms against the sides of her ass and the curve of the breast. But otherwise - it's you, sighing - soft and gentle, like you can't get over the feel of her. "Hyeju, oh-fucking, god, fucking," is what you're saying, and it doesn't end up really mattering which one of you came last because she can feel you twitching, squelching in and out with how badly you're wanting to explode inside, but also you can feel her cunt absolutely begging, this fucking fluttering and clamping down on every thrust and the moment you manage to grind this angle she loses her ability to speak properly because you're not just, like - fucking her-

Just, absolutely, completely pounding her pussy, stretching her insides, dragging and sliding along the walls; each rough rub and thrust makes her knees quiver until her body is trembling and falling. But mostly her voice, the sharp gasp that shakes into her, how her nails are scraping the walls of the shower stall and she's saying - telling, crying and asking and wondering and pleading - just utterly astounded:

"Amazing," she huffs, breathes coming out cloudy and true onto the pane of glass, "you - it’s, fucking amazing.")

-

“And I am… Ironman.”

Your eyes flicker awake, hazy, as Tony Stark snaps his fingers, killing himself alongside Thanos’ army in the process.

The TV's long been running on background noise, though not as ambient. Its characters now bickering between the rubble and ruins and being picked up for the end credits. In the dark of the screen, you see Hyeju had nodded off and slumped over the side of your body. A new year means new beginning means resolutions and diets and gym routines -

Maybe no sooner than the sun can come up, apparently.

You lean over to grab your phone from the table: 4:14 A.M.

There's a lot of things you want to say, even more you want to hear, but your mind has begun to settle a bit - a lazy and dreamy thing that fills you with this sort of, tired kind of - not sad, or empty - no, of course not. That's hardly fitting; not after tonight. You want to wrap this in an idealistic sort of sentiment - maybe hold Hyeju close and let the hour carry you and the comfort be enough to forgive whatever there is to miss: like the fact, it's still really dark, so dark even outside. The moon reflecting off the sheet of snow on the street. And not even a distant dog barking, or car driving by or someone playing loud music in the early hours of the new year.

As the film drifts off into another set of commercials, you slip into an easy sleep that feels effortless. Your head drops, landing on the cushion by the arm of the couch, where Hyeju's hand begins to slip mindlessly across your belly, tickling your waist and causing you to slightly squirm - things are cooling down, but still a little agitated.

"Don't tell me you're waking me up, cause I just -"

She kisses the pulse at your throat and answers, mumbling half-words into the spot below your ear. "A kiss for a new year."

And maybe the world doesn't owe you anything at all.

Maybe it just gave you more than enough.

[mamawasatesttube]

I love mentor Tim and his hero kids. He says there’s anywhere between 6 and 27 of them at all times, he lost count. He’s lying. He knows everything about them. He is their cringe mentor who uses vintage memes and simultaneously the coolest person they know

there's a whole plot here i'm gonna write one day about tim mentoring a little gaggle of idiot teenagers <3 they adore him but he's so cringefail and they're like god how is it that you of all people know everybody in the hero community??? you did NOT just say "weirdchamp" tim youre killing us!!!

but the plot of this is a lil idiot teenager outsider pov thing wherein like. this lil squad of teenagers (all very starstruck by superfam btw. they all still think yknow superfam are kryptonians 24/7 and live at the fortress of solitude etc.) are blown away by the fact that tim, rook, their kind of pathetic scrunkly mentor who they love TIM, knows supernova. whoa. they saw supernova in the hallway and he stopped to say hi to tim!!! whoa!!!!

but then supernova just like. keeps showing up?? seemingly, like, just to hang out with tim? and theyre like oh my god wait you guys are fRIENDS???? TIM HOW????

supernova of course finds this hilarious, laughs his ass off, and says oh yeah man, this guy's been my bestie since we were what. fifteen? and tim snorts and says yeah, about then. and supernova elbows him and says what, you didn't tell them ANYTHING about our days of bothering red tornado? and tim says wryly, i didn't want to give them any more ideas.

and so, hero worship or not, supernova showing up to lounge on tim's desk while tim instructs them in hand to hand, or to chatter over tim's shoulder while tim tinkers with a new gadget, or this or that, etc, becomes kind of normal. he's just always hanging out, when he's not busy with his own hero work or away with other members of the superfam, etc. it's wild! they're all so starry-eyed. he talks to them about how cool tactile telekinesis is (and why is tim rolling his eyes??? supernova is right, it's SO cool!!) or about his favorite episodes of wendy the werewolf stalker (man that's old and like, a classic. he's cultured!!!! whoa...)

but they just see him around a lot, is the point. he's starting to become a constant presence, and they get to see how seamlessly he and tim interact.

and it is then. that the gaggle of teenagers starts to suspect something.

they have a feeling--and tim plays his cards pretty close to his chest, of course, but they have a feeling... that tim. might actually be in love with supernova.

(what follows: local bunch of dumbass teens with hearts of gold try really earnestly to set tim up with his own husband. tim doesn't understand why this is happening. kon thinks it's hilarious.)

[444rockstargf]

chris kenton and a pothead bimbo reader (can u tell i like bimbos?)

theyre high and playing truth or dare with a small group of friends and one persons like "hey reader i dare you to sit in chris lap for the rest of the game!" and she does and she feels chris hardening under her and shes like "hey chris, truth or dare" "truth" "have you ever thought about me naked?" "absolutely. yeah." "wanna see?" and she drags him to the bathroom and tit job and mirror sex 🤭

i need a tissue for all the tears running down my legs...

"let's go get high." | chris kenton

born to die. - lana del rey

bimbo!female!reader x chris

word count: 1.1k

contents: use of marijuana, semi-public sex, p in v, tit fucking, unprotected

you took another hit of your joint, laughing before passing it to chris. you, chris, and 3 of your friends were playing a game of truth or dare at chris’ place, along with getting your brains fried simultaneously.

you were sitting beside him, stealing occasional glances in his direction when he wasn't looking. he was classy and well put together, but what you liked most about him is that he was easy game. he fell head over heels for any girl who gave him time of day. and you just happened to be his current eye candy. It was bound to happen since he thought you were the hottest girl in school.

one of your friends took a hit of their joint before speaking. “alright, its my turn.” she looked around, before locking eyes at you. “y/n. truth or dare?” you thought for a moment. feeling daring at the moment, you made your decision. “dare.” you took the joint from chris. “good. i dare you to sit on chris’ lap for the rest of the game.“ you looked at him, and his eyes were wide, but you smiled an stood up.

chris watched your body move as you sat down on his lap, your tiny little skirt riding up your thighs as you did so. His eyes were glued on your ass as it wiggled a little. you wrapped an arm around his neck, bringing your tits painfully close to his face. He subtly looked down your cleavage in the little top you were wearing, feeling his body heating up.

as your friends went around the circle, you moved your hips against him every now and them, feeling his boner pressing against your ass. he had to fight back the urge to grab your hips and grind against them. you breathed a little heavily to make your chest rise and fall right in his face. when it was finally your turn, you turned to chris and asked him truth or dare. you were hoping that he would say truth, because there was something that you were just dying to know.

he cleared his throat. “uh… truth.” he said quietly. he was looking down a little to hide how red his face had gotten. you lifted his chin up with your finger, making eye contact with him. “you ever had any dirty thoughts about me?” you asked, matching his tone. his eyes made contact with your breasts once again as he nodded. “y-yeah… totally.” all your friends whistled around the table as he admitted this.

you looked down at him, playing with his hair as you grinned. “wanna see something special?” you whispered. He didn't even hesitate before nodding frantically. and that’s how you and him ended up in his bathroom, him watching intently as you slowly took off your top and bra, tossing them to the side. he started to drool as he saw your beautiful tits right in front of him. “s-so pretty…” you giggled before getting on your knees in front of him.

you started to look at his cock pressed against his jeans, and he covered it up with his hands, embarrassed. you took his hands off and unzipped them, seeing as his bulge throbbed through his boxers. you looked up at him, your doe eyes burning into his soul. “you’re quite the needy boy, aren’t you?” you pulled it out and kissed the tip, slowly stroking it.

chris hissed at the feeling of someone other than himself touching his cock. and it being you of all people drove him wild. you spat on the tip before putting it in between your tits, moving them up and down his painfully hard length. chris gasped as the pleasure instantly took over his body. his hands were desperately looking for something to grab for support, but nothing was within a comfortable range.

you took his hands in yours and brought them down to your tits, making him rest his hands on them. he eventually got the idea and started thrusting his hip into them, trying his best to hold back all the noises he had pent up in him. he watched as your perfect tits swallowed up his sore little cock, and the sight would've been enough to make him release right there, but he kept it together for the sake of his reputation.

After a few agonizing minutes of using your tits to pleasure himself and holding in his cum, you pulled off of him and stood up. “i can’t let you have all the fun.” you bent over the sink, lifting up your skirt and shifting your thong to the side. chris was drooling once again as he saw your pretty little pussy right there. he wanted to fuck you so badly that it hurt. he put his hands on your ass, slowly lining himself up with your pussy. then he pushed it in. you were surprised at how filling his cock was, already feeling your body getting weaker.

he let out a low moan as he was finally inside of you. then he started pushing his length in and out of you, watching you in the mirror’s reflection. you were already moaning like a whore, feeling your soul leave your body everytime he reentered you. you looked at yourself in the mirror. you watched as your tits bounced as he mercilessly pounded into your sweet little pussy.

he couldn't help but stare at your ass everytime it recoiled, it being almost hypnotizing for him. the bathroom echoed with the sound of skin slapping. you started moaning out his name, begging for him to go faster. he was about two seconds away from falling apart, but he kept himself together just for you.

you felt your orgasm nearing, your brain starting to shut off from the pleasure that was overwhelming your body. chris couldn’t hold back his noises any longer, his moans being the main noise that was filling the bathroom. then your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks. your back arched as you pressed your hips into his, trying to get his dick as far in you as possible.

he groaned out a series of curses before pulling out of you and cumming all over your back, his chest heaving up and down as he breathed heavily. you sighed at the feeling of his hot cum hitting your skin as you came down from your high. he was extremely sweet after all that, cleaning you up and helping you get dressed, even though it was a painful sight for him to see.

as you were about to exit the bathroom with him, you heard giggles on the other side of the door and realized that this was going to be the next hottest thing once you got back to school.

author's note: 3 more requests to go :)) thank you all so much for all the support, i cant say it enough.

[jubiilee13]

okay but imagine streamer reader secretly dating tommy (only close friends and family know) and reader goes on his loh instead of ranboo or (again) fans don't know they're dating but they always playfully flirt with each other and the fans are just sick of they're shit lol

I LOVE THIS IDEA HOLY COW HOW DO YOU GUYS COME UP WITH THIS- TY ANON ILYSM

I’m gonna write the second one just bc I have a super cute idea for that one and also i still dont completely understand the concept of LOH cause tommy's was my first-

TW: slight cursing

There might be spelling errors, I had to write this on mobile qwq

--

Lets just say, trying to hide your relationship with tommy was not always the easiest thing.

The never ending amount of flirting between the two of you did not go unnoticed by chat.

And yet every day, when another person would ask the question "Are you two dating?" you two could not be quick enough to deny it.

The flirting started way before you two actually became a couple, but it really picked up after you two were official.

Chat didn’t let this go unnoticed of course, and they made sure to flood Twitter with clips of the cheesy pick up lines and compliments shared between the two of you.

And yet still, whenever either of you were asked the question, you denied it.

But there came a day when denying it simply wasn’t an option.

It was an irl truth or dare stream when quackity and George were in town. The four of you were goofing your asses off while watching the others do dares.

Eventually, it was your turn. You sat in place for a moment thinking over your options.

“Dare.”

A sly grin slid onto quackitys face as he chuckled and leaned over to whisper something into George’s ear.

Chat was going wild at their secret conversations, and automatically started assuming it had something to do with Tommy.

The two quietly chatted for a moment more before simultaneously bursting out in laughter.

“I dare you… to kiss Tommy” quackity says through his laughs, causing your face to flush.

You gave quackity a dark glare before turning to Tommy.

Tommy sat in place, face also flushed.

“Um… hi?” You say awkwardly while rubbing your neck.

George and quackity slipped out of your view to watch chat, leaving you and Tommy in the Center of the frame.

You turn your head to look at the camera, you could just tell chat was going bonkers by the occasional giggles that slipped out of the two older boys mouths.

“I-“ you tried to say, but you cut off by a sudden voice.

“Just shut up and kiss me already n/n” he states before grabbing the collar of your shirt and smashing your lips onto his own.

You tended slightly and let out a tiny squeal, before you slowly kissed him back.

The kiss was unfortunately cut short by loud cheers from behind the camera.

“YOOOOOOOOOO” George and quackity exclaimed in synchrony.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched the two boys sprint over to hype Tommy up, earning a surprised Yelp out of him.

You slowly scooted out of frame to take a look at chat, and you had to hold in a giggle as you watched the messages fly by at a mile a minute.

The chat was mostly filled with

“Y/S/N”

And collective

“OH MY GOD”

You continued to watch, as you began to smile.

Safe to say, that moment was clipped.

And it may or may not have made it to number 1 trending on Twitter but we don’t talk about that

—

A/n: i hope you enjoy it :) I had fun writing this <3

[imaginedreamwrite]

Can we see boxer!Nick seeing shy!Reader for the first time?

The excitement of the crowd was thrilling in itself, the chanting and the jeers as two equally impressive and stacked men had been in the throes of a fight. Your eyes had grown and remained wide when you were enraptured by the powerful swings from the dark blonde fighter to the dark brunette.

“They’re friends!” Your college roommate and the woman who brought you here, Desi, had explained the general concept of this gladiator’s arena in the modern age.

“They’re friends?!” You squeaked, inhaling and holding your breath when the dark blonde opponent fell. “They’re wailing on each other like they hate each other!”

She laughed and wrapped her arm around your shoulders, yanking you closer into her side as she moved down on the stadium bench seats. She was trying to give you a better angle of the ring, allowing you to see the manner in which the brunette was beating his opponent and friend.

“Lloyd Hansen is the guy losing,” she pointed to the man down, his face bloodied and brushed, “Nick Fowler is the guy winning. They’re friends, they like kicking each others ass.”

“Oh god-“ you squeaked again and covered your eyes when Nick Fowler started swinging again, unable to see the other guy taking the blows.

“Oh come on! Doesn’t it make you horny?” Desi laughed again, cathartically waiting for the match to be over so she could take one of the two home. “The sex after these matches…”

“Have you ever slept with one?” You only removed your hands from your eyes as the crowd exploded in cheers and the final bell rang.

As you lowered your hands you’d taken notice of Desi standing on the bench seat with a spare bra hanging from her fingertips and her wild screeching haunts an attempt to gain the winner’s favour. You watched her, unable to look away as she flung one of her bras toward the stage, giggling when it was snatched up by the dark blonde.

“Come on! Come on!” She grabbed your hand before people started to leave their seats at the end of the game, desperate and hastened to beat the crowds. “If we’re quick we can beat the usual bunnies.”

“Bunnies?” You furrowed your brows, calling after her as she lead you from the stands down to the cement floor, and even further back toward the dressing rooms.

“Belt bunnies? Whatever you wanna call them, they’re girls looking to have sex with the boxers.” Desi had been simultaneously describing herself and jeering at the women waiting to see the two coming out.

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” You pressed yourself back against the wall, unwilling to make yourself a target of the women that were in competition with each other.

“I don’t come to every match, just the ones that Hansen & Fowler have.” She grinned and winked, tossing her raven black hair over her shoulder with a flourish before she stepped forward and yanked her mini-dress down.

“I can go…? I can wait outside..?” The door opened and the first had come out, the guy who lost, though he seemed to wear his loss well.

He hadn’t appeared as big now as he had in the ring, a surprising twist, though he was over 6ft tall and clearly had great muscle definition, he didn’t appear to be an overtly broad and wide man. His dark blonde hair was brushed out of his face and his plump pink lips were tugged into a smirk as he stepped away from his dressing room door with some women clawing to cling to him.

“Hansen,” Desi drew her hand over his bicep as he passed, affectively stirring his attention and captivating hm for a moment, “tough loss isn’t it?”

“Desi, I’m starting to think you’re obsessed.” Lloyd hadn’t brushed the other women off, but he had shown a heightened interest in your friend. “You want to wet my dick that bad, baby?”

“As long as its cleaned first.” She crooned seductively, casting a look back over her shoulder to you with a smirk that you knew meant she was on a mission.

“Fowler!” Lloyd called without turning his head, the voice raised had matched almost synonymously with the door nearest to you opening and the winner stepping out.

In your attempt to push yourself out of the spotlight, you had placed yourself almost directly in front of the dressing room across the way from Lloyd Hansen’s. It was a mistake for you to be here and yet you didn’t have to the chance to scurry away.

You had turned, and were immediately face to chest with Nick Fowler. You had to crane your neck to look up at him, your eyes growing in size at the sheer size of this dangerous and powerful man who had just laid Hansen out. You were watching him just as he was watching you, his blue and captivating eyes holding yours.

“Who’s your friend, Des?” He spoke with a heavy accent, New York or Boston, the added detail to his already husky voice was surprising.

“Nick Fowler, this is my roommate and my friend.” Desi had pulled away from Lloyd Hansen to wrap her arm around your shoulders. “Y/N L/N.”

“Y/N.” His brown hair was still damp from sweat, his lips, like Lloyd’s, had been tugged into a smirk and you could see the lines of a tattooed beneath his light blue shirt. “You’ve never brought her along before, Desi. Why’d you hide someone so cute?”

“I-“ you stammered, your head had become simultaneously filled and empty as you struggled to say something, anything.

“You enjoy the fight, sweetheart? Its your first fight?” He dipped his head, giving you a better look at the fighter.

He was broader than Lloyd Hansen, a few inches taller with more muscle definition. His eyes were crystalline and intensely blue, his lips plump and pink with a little cut on the corner of his mouth.

“I’ve never…” you opened and closed your mouth, your head whipped to the side as you looked for Desi for help.

“She’s shy, Fowler. Don’t scare her.” Desi warned him, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“You wanted to take one of us home, Des?” Nick spoke to her but stared at you, amused and almost taken by you.

You shifted your weight from foot to foot, hyper-aware of the way your thighs had rubbed together with every subtle movement. The cut of your plain black shirt against your chest had seemed painfully tight despite how comfortable you’d found it moments before, and you were already reaching for the front to pull it down to give you something to do.

“Des, you wanna go to a party?” Lloyd drew her attention back to him, the same kind of smirk on his face. “Bring your friend-“

“I’m not a partier. I don’t…party…” you quipped and then rubbed your hands on the front of your shirt. “I’ve never…I don’t…like crowds-“

“Relax, sweetheart.” Nick cut you off, looking past you to Desi. “This party’s a hell of a lot more private than you’d expect. It’s a few friends, their girlfriends.”

“Its not bad, Y/N.” Desi reassured you, looking back at Lloyd with hunger.

“I’m sure I could even find ya a quiet corner to read your book.” Nick whispered in your ear, somehow knowing what was in your bag without even having to guess.

You don’t know what had come over you. With a sharp exhale you agreed, and allowed Desi to pull you along again.

[hereforsterekcontent]

Imagine this sign at the entrance to the preserve lmao

There are so many options as to who would put it there...

...maybe Laura (in an alive hale family scenario) because she REALLY doesn’t need to see her teenage brother and his little boyfriend awkwardly exchange handjobs ever, and that means EVER, again. God this is worse than when she walked in on him masturbaring years ago and she still hasn't completely recovered from that. Although "nice panties, Stilinski!" she can't help tease, pointing at his batman boxers. "Laura!" Derek screeches , frantically trying to get the zipper of his jeans up while simultaneously trying (and failing) to shield Stiles from his sisters looks. "Thanks Laur!" the idiot himself laughs. "STILES!" Derek looks scandalised and okay maybe embarrassing him is worth the nightmarish images she will now have to live with a little bit. She always liked the Sheriffs kid. What she can't, however, live with, is catching her uncle in a quite similar, if not slighlty more compromising situation with..."Oh my god is that Allison Argents DAD?? Uncle Peter what is wrong with you, he's married! YOU are married!" She puts the sign up right after that incident (and after snitching on uncle Peter to her mom). Enough's enough. Unfortunately some of her younger siblings inevitably stumble upon the sign and after asking their parents what "fuck" meant at the dinner table, with the Sheriff present mind you, Misses Hale makes her take it down immediately, scalding her especially strictly, considering the towns Sheriff (and their very likely future in-law) is present. If Laura tells them about her initial reason (stumbling upon Derek and Stiles) to get them off of her case and distract them, it's not her proudest moment, but well you gotta do what you gotta do and seeing her brothers eyes widen with fear is admittedly a nice bonus.

...Maybe Derek after he had to stumble upon yet an other pair of teenagers making out there when he justed wanted to to go for a nice little evening run. Stiles would obviously find it hilarious at first but also most definitely take it as a challenge. At one point they'd probably be patrolling the borders of the preserve after a particularly viscous fight with a coven of witches or something equally fucked and Stiles would jokingly initiate some making out wich would probably turn into either him blowing Derek or Derek fucking him against the sign. Either way Derek would somehow manage to leave clawmarks on it which, again, Stiles would be absolutely delighted over. The betas would probably shake their heads at him because he had forbidden them all from getting it on in the woods near his house since "just because we are part wolf doesn't mean we have to behave like wild animals, Erica " so what happened to practicing what you preach, boss? He'd be embarrassed but probably stand by it though, he's stubborn like that. If Derek wants to go to what is basically his back gardens and plow his mate into a tree or make out like teenagers with him in the flower field behind the old shed then he by all means will do so, it's his land . Also...he's the alpha goddammit >:(

...it admittedly does seem most like a Stiles thing to do though. Like he's not a werewolf, he can't hear or smell it (thank god for that one) from yards away if there's s someone doing the nasty behind a tree. No, poor, unsuspecting Stiles would have to inevitably stumble into what's going on resulting in him letting out a screech that would have Derek drop everything at the grocery store a town over and run to his mates aid. Because "Scotty, my pal, my brother, there is only so much our friendship can take. And having to see your bare ass in broad daylight is NOT one of them! Ugh hell no Allison, please tell me thats not-Oh hey babe, what are you doing here, I thought you went to get me icecr- woah what's going on with the fangs and the eyes did something happen??"

Anyways after one time to many he would eventually stalk towards the most popular make out spot, the sign in hand and hammer it into the ground without further explanation. It does speak for itself he reckons. Derek and the others would probably follow him and watch all amued. That is until Isaac jokingly says that no-ones going to listen to Stiles' sign anyways and Dereks eyebrows shoot up immediately communicating that his mates little sign will be taken seriously or else.... Also he's pretty sure Stiles is willing to make an exception for him....

[itsyourstarboy]

Streamer!Honey Headcanons

Next Part

MWAHAHAHAHA

*ahem*

Okay, so Honey has been streaming for a long while; since before they met Guy.

They're mostly known for their dry (and dark) humor, and the amount of horror games they play.

Best part is that they're hardly phased by jump scares, so they're just kinda 😐

Some scares get them on rare occasion, and when they do it is always a violent reaction. Y'know that scary maze video where the person punches the screen? Yeah, that was Honey.

Something in the game scares them and they immediately jump up, rip their headphones off, throw them on the ground, yell "JESUS FVCKING CHRIST", and then pace for a few seconds to collect themselves before getting back in their chair and being like "well that happened".

There's a "Honey getting scared for 7 minutes straight" compilation video out there somewhere.

Honey usually doesn't play games with other people, and when they do they come off as annoyed and intimidating.

They don't mean to, their resting bitch face seeps into their voice, it's not their fault.

Before they moved in with Guy, they lived in 4 previous apartments with varying numbers of roommates.

Their relationships with past roommates was pretty normal.

So, when they moved in with Guy, and the chat noticed they were in a new place, no one really thought anything of it.

I mean, Honey never said anything about having a boyfriend, and the chat often played the game "what is Honey's sexuality," which was very entertaining for Honey to watch.

One day Honey was streaming (maybe a week or so into them living with Guy), and they heard Guy calling for them down then hall, clearly on his way to where they were.

Honey had decided when they started dating that they didn't want Guy to show his face on their stream. Not because they were keeping their relationship a secret, but because they have a fairly large fan base, and Guy delivers pizzas. Could you imagine if someone recognized him while he was working?

So, when Honey heard him coming, they whipped their head around, while simultaneously pulling off their headphones, and tilting the camera down so it was pointed at their desk, and got up to meet him at the door.

The stream can only faintly hear their talking, so the chat is going wild.

Honey has never reacted like that to a roommate walking in on them, so this was interesting.

They come back and chat is full of "who was that??"

And Honey, never being the type to directly answer a question, goes "that was just my Guy," and chat was never the wiser.

(until fast forward a couple months and chat finally learns that Guy's name is literally Guy, and someone puts two and two together)

Guy knew not to walk in on them while streaming, they had both agreed that if he needed something that wasn't that important (like dinner plans, or how to run the dishwasher), that he could just text them.

But one day he really needed to bother them. Why? He needed attention. The only thing stopping him was that he wasn't sure how Honey would feel about him calling them "Honey" in front of their stream.

So, he opens the door (which is out of frame), and calls them buy their real name. They turn around so fast, he swears they nearly broke their neck.

Chats freaking out (because of course, Guy has the cutest voice), and Honey can very faintly be heard saying "what did you just call me?"

Guy starts laughing, and goes "call you what?"

Honey narrows their eyes, "get out."

"what?" Guy laughs.

"Get out before I beat your ass."

"I didn't do anything-!"

Honey then proceeds to chase Guy out of the room, and when they come back to stream they may or may not have a flushed face and swollen lips.

Honey never said anything to confirm or deny chats sudden curiosity about their relationship with the stranger in the background.

(this is getting kind of long, I will write more later if y'all want, because I definitely have more)

[hearts4golbach]

The Night Shift.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

Chapter 29.

i scanned the restaurant for the raven haired boy i adored. whenever my eyes landed on him, my heart skipped a beat. he stared down at his phone while he awaited our arrival. i led my parents to the table, climbing in next to johnnie as my parents sat across from us.

my mom gave him a fake ass smile and stuck out her hand. "Hi, i'm y/m/n."

johnnie took it with a sincere smile on his face, shaking it gently. "johnnie. it's nice to meet you."

my mom had a glare in her eyes as she silently judged his tattoos, piercings, and makeup. i was relieved to see that johnnie wasn't too scared not to go in makeup or anything but what he usually wears. i smiled softly as i stared at him, admiring his calm attitude.

my dad seemed much more genuine as he shook johnnies hand. "i'm y/f/n, it's great to meet you, man."

"i think you have a brave style choice," my mom glared towards me, giving me the stink eye before making eye contact with him again. i took johnnies hand from under the table and held onto it like my life depended on it. "How long have you been dressing like this."

"Since i was around 14," he answered confidently, "i guess it just kind of stuck with me all these years."

my parents began talking amongst themselves before we got to order our drinks and food. johnnie quietly filled me in on how his morning went, simultaneously comforting me. his voice was soft and sweet, just above a whisper, so only I could hear him.

whenever drinks arrived at the table, my mother turned back to johnnie. "What's your current occupation?"

johnnie stuttered, "I'm a youtuber."

"Wow, does that make good money for you?" My father seemed somewhat interested.

"Actually, yeah. I'm pretty big on YouTube, and it pays really well." johnnie stayed respectful with his words, but I could tell he was being extremely cautious.

"That's good to hear. so, I heard you two live together, is that right?" My mom interrupted. johnnie nodded in response. "How's that working?"

it seemed as if my mother was trying to find all of the little cracks and holes in our relationship, as if she was digging for where our relationship could go wrong.

"It's working really well, we haven't had any issues so far." he took a sip of his drink.

my mom looked slightly annoyed by how well this was going.

despite her acting off, the rest of the brunch went smoothly. johnnie and my dad had a conversation about what he wants in the future. johnnie expressed that he does, in fact, want a family at some point, which made my dad's face light up. meanwhile, my mother stayed silent.

after me and johnnie had paid the bill for all 4 of us, Johnnie rode with us back to the hotel. I dropped my parents off and drove back home with johnnie in the passenger seat.

"that was fucking scary. it seemed like your mom had something against me." he laughed nervously.

"she has something against everyone. I think she's just mad cause I'm actually happy or something along those lines. my dad seems a lot better, though." I explained, waving my hand around as I spoke. "i can tell my dad likes you."

he smiled softly at my comment. "well, at least your dad fucking likes me. maybe i'm just not cool enough for your mom."

"well, i think you're too cool for my mom." i teased him.

johnnie took my hand and squeezed it. "did they say anything about your tattoos?"

i laughed nervously. "i didn't show them. my mom was already being weird. i might show my dad later, though."

about 15 minutes later we made it back to the house. i crawled into our bed and went on my phone while johnnie decided to hop on and stream. he decided to go on his stream and play a highly requested game, Poppy Playtime 3. about an hour later, i went to sit next to him and join the stream, which made the chat go wild. i got to speak to the chat for a little longer before he decided to save the game where he was at and end the stream. he then joined me in the bed and we cuddled and watched movies for the rest of the day. with the eventful morning, i was glad to spend the rest of the day with johnnie.

[the-algebra-thing]

okay guys listen. I'm being fr Please listen I'm giggling so bad rn okay. in I think december my sibling was staying with us and sent me an itafushi fic for the two of us to read together. and I had never read any of them specifically but this is supposedly The itafushi fic like super well known and shit, and we got started reading and we were like oh this is cool this is kind of wild this is fun! and we updated flynn after we got through the first few chapters, and I think talked briefly about its reflection so far of our cosplay assignments of me as yuji and them as megumi. cosplaying with your siblings is top tier btw I highly recommend. makes everything funnier. flynn is obviously going to be nobara neither of us could even think of pulling it off like he will.

and Then. they left our apt to stay with their other sister at her place, for the weekend. and we continued reading and thus both simultaneously descended into the most horrifying, dead parallel, completely itafushi first love late spring induced, earth shattering, ridiculously character-binary depressed breakdowns. yujis whole thing and the existential themes/writing style set me off like a motherfucker, and megumis big issue and the two year timeskip ruined them. I held my cat and cried intermittently on the couch on saturday evening for at least an hour before gathering myself to finish it the following morning I'm telling you it was BAD.

when we reunited on monday after they returned to our apt we sat down, went through exactly what the fuck had happened to each of us, and laughed our absolute ASSES off about just. all of it. and still every time I remember it I giggle out fucking loud because while this brand of mental breakdown hits me semi-regularly, it is by far the worst iteration I've literally ever experienced, and not only it was precipitated by itafushi fanfiction, it followed the themes of the fic stupidly closely, and in this was mirrored uncannily in tesla's experience across town. et fucking cetera. just now remembered about it again it just never gets old

[avernale]

Have You Seen Pokémon's Latest Gimmick? Have You SEEN It?

Yo, dawg, the new ScarVi presentation dropped! I'm kinda, well...

I let you watch the video first, then hit "Keep Reading" for my hot take. Granted, it's been over twelve hours, so it's not that hot, but I had work today! Cut me some slack!

Skip the first nine minutes if you only care about ScarVi. You may want to hit up the official website, too, since I'll also be discussing information you can find there that's not in the video.

Up to speed now? (Heh) Whatever, it's not like I can stop you.

In case you skipped the video (and haven't learned of it by now) I'll start by saying the new region's name is Paldea. It's an okay name, I guess. Certainly no Galar. I'm not sure I can parse any meaning out of it, but I'm feeling "Palace" and "Idea." 🤷

I'm saying this now, because the video opens with a montage of Pokémon, including the blink-and-you'll-miss-it introduction to the only regional variant seen thus far: Paldean Wooper. I noticed it was brown right off the bat, but dismissed it as a trick of lighting. Nope. It's Ground/Poison Type, and it's antennae now look like crossbones. Don't worry, you'll get to see it properly later.

How do I feel about it? It's passable. I mean, I suppose the bones are kinda neat, but I don't see myself going out of my way to find one. What I do find notable, however, is that Paldean Quagsire is nowhere to be seen. It's firmly in Shcroedinger Space, my friends, simultaneously being in the game and on the cutting room floor. But there are also two other options: Either it evolves into a completely new Pokémon (like Galarian Meowth into Perrserker instead of Persian) or it may not evolve at all (A first for the series regional variants!). That makes it at least 50% more compelling.

The first thing the video makes a big to-do about is the Treasure Hunt. It's a thing you can do, apparently instead of actually taking classes in the school you just enrolled in (Wait, is Ash going to enroll in a PokéSchool again, or will Paldea just be added to the Journeys-formula rotation?). What kind of treasure you ask? [Laughs in Just Buy The Damn Game] That would be telling! The only hint you get is some kind of glowing plant you see characters inspecting in the wild for a second or two. Something tells me it's made of crystal...

I assume this is one of the three story paths mentioned in the website, which only describes the gym path and says to stay tuned for the rest. I assume one is the Treasure Hunt (though why it wouldn't just say that now is beyond me), and one is about taking down Team Thorn-In-Your-Side (not necessarily mutually exclusive, also not introduced yet). Gyms can be challenged in any order, but I've yet to determine that they can be beaten in any order without purposeful grinding. Clear them all, and you can take the Champion Assessment for Champion Rank! I presume this occurs in the fog-shrouded crater in the middle of the region, but it looks kinda sinister, actually...

If this makes you effectively Champion or just allows you compete for the title, I can't say. What Nemona says in one screenshot on the website suggests to me that you'll still have to compete for it, but it could be open to interpretation. My guess is that it'll be another tournament like Sword & Shield instead of the Elite Four like every other game in the series (Sun & Moon, you cowards! This could've been you!)

Also, the only gym leader introduced thus far is Grusha, from Glaseado City(Town?)'s Ice-Type Gym, who I thought was a girl at first. I blame the hair and that huge-ass jacket. Unless they're trans, in which case why keep the hair? Is he shivering the video, or is that just me?

We also get to see what stands in for HM's in these games; Koraidon and Miraidon! That's right! Early on, you'll befriend the box legendary and get to right around on its back! They're literal all-terrain vehicles, zooming over the land, climbing up cliffs, swimming in the water, and gliding through the air! Well, Miraidon is a vehicle, at least, transforming into different Modes. It actually transforms into a futuristic motorcycle. Koraidon just pretends to be a motorcycle by rolling its tail into a wheel shape, but just runs around on all fours. I think I just lost a significant amount of respect for this guy, not gonna lie. At the very least, Miraidon looks cooler as a motorcycle.

Also, why are it's different traversal modes called "Builds"? I mean, I kinda get it, but why not "Styles" or something?

Now, what isn't elaborated on is whether or not you actually catch them that early or not. Admittedly, having a legendary at your beck and call from the get-go is a little too Mary Sue to me. I mean, I cut my teeth in Pokémon forum RP's with rules to prevent this sort of thing because Legendary Pokémon are too special for everyone to have one (or they were <_<). But any game that doesn't require you to have HM's also doesn't require you to have the Pokémon that uses them in your party. Brilliant Diamond and Shining Pearl has the Pokétch summon wild Pokémon to do this for you, and Let's Go Pikachu & Eevee allows you to remove your starter from your party (they don't like it, but they still sit on your shoulder and let you use their abilities). You'll definitely be able to catch Koraidon or Miraidon properly at some point, just not necessarily right away. In fact, I can imagine you losing access to them at the climax of the game, and then you can catch them when you reunite. And even if you are given them on the outset, they won't need to be in your party to use them. If you can't catch them, you'll probably be given an item that summons them, the like flute from Legends Arceus.

Another new Pokémon they introduce is Fidough. It's blink-and-you-miss-them again the first time, and I thought they might've been Pawmi initially. Wrong again. It's obvious from the name, but it's clear on the website that they are, if not made of bread, at least bread-related. Its breath contains yeast, which can ferment things, probably meaning beer. Okay, not everything fermented is alcoholic, but it's still an option. The website describes its texture as moist and smooth, which I'm not sure is a feature I want to see (or feel) in a dog.

In actual action, you see the new Pokémon Cetitan being used by Grusha in a Pokémon Battle. A whale? On LAND? Surely, this is pure randomness, but no! Dolphins and whales were once a terrestrial species that for some reason evolved to live in the sea. Clearly, Cetitan is a reference to that. Also, the website says it's over fourteen feet tall, but you wouldn't know it from the trailer. It's no taller than any of the human NPC's watching the battle. It's Galar's pony-sized Wailords all over again.

Also, interesting variety of trainer NPC's. The dude in the gas mask looks pretty cool. Trainer customization isn't detailed in the trailer, but on the website it seems that your clothing options are kind of limited. You'll basically be wearing a school uniform but, like the anime Soul Eater, there are a variety of uniform styles. You can also change your hair and facial features (Good! The default eyes are a little too doll-like for my tastes) and wear various accessories. So despite being limited to wearing school uniforms (depending on how you define those terms), your appearance may be far more customizable than ever before.

Speaking of NPC's, of all the NPCs in the game, only Academy Director Clavell is shown with both uniform variations side-by-side on the website. Right down to the pose, the only difference seems to be the color. The only other character(s) shown like this are the player characters, and they get to have different poses. Could this signify something? Is there something different about Clavell in each version? Are there two Clavells in each game? Or is this some kind of oversight?

Another couple of characters we're introduced to are Arven, who sucks at battling is a great chef (does that mean Nemona, who's great at battles is a terrible cook?), and Penny, who I thought was a boy at first. I guess that's why they put her in a skirt. That's translucent. Is misgender-baiting going to be a recurring character theme in this game, or is this just stereotypical Japanese fondness for androgynous characters? Penny is defined by her shyness.

An extremely flamboyant, driverless vehicle appears in the trailer, and it's also on the page that teases the three story paths. This could belong to Team Thorn and/or be part of a yet-unrevealed racing mode. I mean, you ride a Pokémon that transforms into a motorcycle in this game. How can you not race them? I've said it before and I'll say it again: Pokémon. On. Motorcycles. You got the bikes, now you just need the battle racing! C'mon Game Freak! Make my day!

Another blink-and-you'll-miss-it confirmation: Rotom Phone is still your Pokédex! It seems the guy who made the Pokédex app for it, Jacq, is a teacher at your school, too (he teaches biology?). There appear to be a number of distinctive characters teaching at your school, so you can probably expect at least one of the story lines featuring the school heavily. It's probably not your base of operations like Jubilife Village in Legends Arceus, but you'll likely see it more often than your hometowns in previous games. (There's barely anything in them, so why would you?)

Oh, and the name of your school? Naranja in Scarlet and Uva in Violet. Literally just "Orange" and "Grape" in Spanish. I expected better, Game Freak. Kind of a let down after generations of creative place names. Granted, in the first games the towns were literally named after colors, but c'mon...

Evolution appears to be very brief in this trailer. You see a Noibat sparkle, then a Noivern in a shower of sparkles. Maybe most of it was cut out for some reason, but I think the point they're making is that, like trading, at least part of the sequence is in the game's environment. Not even Legends Arceus could do that! Then again, in Legends Arceus you could do that from the menu. ScarVi will probably just have it auto-trigger again, which makes sense. Why else would your Pokémon be out other than having just battled with it?

There is a brief glimpse of the Pokédex in the presentation after the trailer. Entries in the list look like books, at least as they are being added to the 'dex, but like cards when viewing the entries themselves. Kinda neat.

Instead of just appearing wherever like in the Wild Area, it seems other players load into your game via a portal next to each Pokémon Center. One of the players appears to stutter as they land, which suggests to me a connection issue although even characters in the foreground can be seen stuttering in the animations throughout the video. Still, it makes me imagine that when someone loses their connection in the middle of loading in, they'd just rocket back up into the sky.

They also show all the players on their box legendaries as a group, which is kinda neat despite what I said earlier. Its not like they're all from the same universe. Come to think of it, if you're the only one in the game world with Koraidon or Miraidon, then being able to traverse the environments like that is kind of a super-power. Cool.

And, finally, the gimmick that is in the game: Terastallization.

Sigh...

I mean, I know kaiju-sized Pokémon is a tough act to follow, but this is just gaudy. It's basically an attempt at apply Mega Evolution to every Pokémon by applying what I presume is a shader that makes they look like they're made of crystal and sticking a chandelier on their head.

Let's cut to the chase: You lost me at the chandelier. I mean, I figured that the best way to "Transform" literally every Pokémon without having to design essentially over a thousand new Pokémon was to just mount something onto the existing character models. But this? I can only assume it's for the sake of visibility, but I would've gone with a mask or something. This just looks absurd!

Now, I assume the Terastal Pokémon have increased stats like Mega Evolution and Dynamax/Gigantamax do, but that feature has not been expressed. What has been expressed is the transformations Tera Type feature. So far, it seems there are 16 chandeliers, one for each Type (normal is a huge-ass crown, which I probably should refer to them as, but I won't). Each individual Pokémon has their own Tera Type that they become when they Terastalize, which can be different than the type(s) their species usually has. You could have a Quaxley that changes from Water Type to Fire Type! (Yet another thing to reset-spam for!) The Tera Type will effectively work the same as ordinary types do, so any moves with a Type matching the Tera Type will get a Same Type Attack Bonus (I assume other moves will lose STAB). But if your Pokémon's Tera Type is the same as one of their usual types, fear not because this effect Stacks. Moves that match both the usual type and the Tera Type get even more powerful. I don't know by how much, but I'll go out on a limb and say this means Double STAB. This is apparently

This is honestly the most intriguing part of Terastallization. Still dumb, but an interesting wrinkle nonetheless. It's also absolutely disgusting. You wanna catch every Pokémon in every form? Including Gigantamax Factor, Shinies, and whatnot? Well, f███ing multiply that by goddamn SIXTEEN motherf███er, because now every f███ing Pokémon has an alt form for every f███ing type! I don't know how rare each Tera Type is, but that is some serious replay value right there, boy.

Not outlined in the video but on the site are the limitations for Terastallization. First, instead of a band like the rest of the gimmicks, you have the Terastal Orb. It's basically an extra PokéBall you can recall your Pokémon into so you can Terastallize it, kind of like how you call your Pokémon to Dynamax/Gigantamax. Like Mega Evolution, only one of your Pokémon can do this per battle, and it lasts until the battle ends.

But! Unlike the other gimmicks since X&Y, the Terastal Orb does not recharge automatically between battles! You instead have to either find Terastal Crystals out in the wild or take it to a Pokémon Center. You won't be spamming it every battle in single player like with Mega Evolution or Z-Moves, but you can probably use it every multiplayer match anyway.

Pokémon with rare Tera Types are more likely to be found in Tera Raid Battles. These take place in crystal outcroppings (that you can probably recharge your orb at) that you can see at a distance thanks to glowing shafts of light, like Raid Dens. Unlike Raid Dens, each crystal glows a certain color reflective of the Tera Type of the Tera Pokémon within. Also, the interiors aren't vast, open voids (because Tera Pokémon aren't typically massive) but small caves with crystalline walls reflecting the Raid Boss' image.

Tera Raids are four-on-one matches with a time limit, but the similarities pretty much end there. First of all, everyone can be Terastallized at the same time. Second, you don't have to wait for the other players before making your move. Everyone can act at their own pace, which I assume includes the Raid Boss. I don't know exactly how it works, but if you have a habit of being indecisive be prepared to be left in the diamond dust. And high-level Raid Bosses with a maddening attack rate.

You can also now cheer on your teammates while your Pokémon is still conscious, but that also means you're not giving your Pokémon a command at the same time. For whatever that's worth. There are also now three kinds of cheers, one for boosting Attack & Special Attack, one for boosting Defense & Special Defense, and one for healing. Your Pokémon can be an all-out attacker and still be able to lend support.

Like with Max Raid Battles, you have to defeat the Tera Pokémon before you can catch it. Unlike Max Raids, if the Water-type Gardevoir in the video is any indication, instead of idly standing, the Pokémon will maintain a defeated posture during this sequence. I think it's just pausing during its fainting animation, though.

All that is pretty nice, though I can't shake the feeling that his is just Max Raid Battles with silly hats.

That's all I really have to say. The website says something about switching between the three story lines, so I have to wonder if there's a literal switch in a menu somewhere. More likely you can just follow each story line independently of the other two, ignoring quest objectives as you see fit. Although that means you have to avoid certain locations to keep from advancing the story.

There's also an early-purchase bonus, which in prior games they'd refer to as a pre-order bonus even though it's just a time-limited download that doesn't care how you bought it. In this case, it's Flying Pikachu, specifically with the Flying Tera Type and the move Fly, available until February 23. I assume there'll be a Water Tera Type version with Surf later on.

[ch4nb4ng]

Evil Roommate

pairing: leeknow x afab!reader, roommates enemies to lovers

warnings: softdom!lino, cheating (mentioned), making out, grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering penetration, cum play (?), praise

requested : yes!

word count 6.2k

summary: the new roommate was a handful. lazy, disrespectful, arrogant, and a whole bunch of other negative things. but wow, you were sexually frustrated and he, well, attractive, was an understatement.

“Can you actually like, wash your kitchen utensils when you're done using them?”

The amount of huffing and puffing you have heard from your new roommate in the past two weeks was ridiculous. If you had a dollar for every time he had gone against anything you had politely asked for, you would be rich by now, and definitely stable enough to move out and away from him.

“I will,” he mumbled, mouth stuffed with half of the carrot he was chewing on, very loudly, “can I not enjoy my food first?”

“No,” you replied without hesitation, giving the fakest of smiles in return, “you should do it before you eat.”

Another eye roll from Minho was like water off a duck’s back.

“I'd also appreciate it if you didn’t talk to me with your mouth full of food either.”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

You coughed, turning on your hills to face a very unimpressed roommate. His stare was eye shattering. Yes, he was very, no, extremely good looking. However, every single thing that made up his personality could not be more different to you. Sloppy, messy, lazy. Took no responsibility for any of his actions, especially the high pitch noises (that obviously were not his) you would hear from his room in the early hours of the morning. You would pinch your pillow together, praying extremely hard that the noise would stop, and by the time it did, you would get maybe 2, 3 hours of sleep. College was becoming tiring, not only from staying up to complete assessments, but the lewd noises you could hear from at least 2 people in his room. Your blunt attitude towards Minho’s unhygienic and disrespectful habits were definitely justified.

“What are you talking about?”

“Why do you nitpick everything I do?”

Your jaw dropped, completely dumbfounded.

“Me? Nitpicking you? Please,” you scoffed, “you don't clean up after yourself ever, you leave your dirty clothes everywhere, and don't even get me started on the fact that I barely get any sleep because of your wild sex adventures with other people that occur almost every weeknight, when you know I have to wake up early to go to class next day.”

A combination of frustration and exhaustion could be heard through the harshness of each breath. The smirk that appeared on his face was absolutely punch worthy. What on earth was there to be so cocky of?

“My wild sex adventures,” he paused taking a bite of the dreaded carrot, “please, tell me more about my wild sex adventures.”

His tongue was now obviously pressed against his cheek, a devil coated smile still very apparent on his face. The longer he was looking at you like that, the hotter your cheeks became. Pure anger began to course through you; all he had to do was sit there and look pretty. It was definitely enough for you to get the green light to slap him across the face.

“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed, “I don’t need to explain how I can hear them moaning your name every night, or the banging I hear from wall to-”

“Hmm,” he hummed, “you seem to be listening very well.”

Distracted by your anger for a brief moment, you gasped suddenly, feeling Minho’s fingertips at your sides. You turned around, swatting his hands away, giving him that slap that you felt you had earned across the face.

“Who the fuck said you could touch me?

“Did you just fucking slap me?”

“Yes I fucking did,” you spat, “what do you take me for?”

“You know what you’re right, but you walk around here with a stick up your ass. I hear you on the phone to your friends, complaining about how you don't get any action from anyone.”

You stood there in disbelief. “So you’ve been eavesdropping on my convos as well?”

“Well it’s kind of hard not to hear, you know, the walls in this house are kind of thin.”

Your jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed, the conversation was at a stand still.

“Can you get to the point please?”

“I sure can sweetheart,” the name sending a shiver down your spine, “if you're that sexually frustrated, go and do something about it instead of taking it out on me?”

A laugh that you didn't even know you were capable of bellowed from your chest. You stumbled back, grabbing onto stool behind the bench for support.

“Me? Sexually frustrated? Please,” you huffed, “I’m not sexually frustrated, and it definitely has nothing to do with you.”

Another scoff escaped your lips as you shuffled back to your room. Closing the door behind you, a heavy sigh came from your chest as you sat on the edge of your bed. How on earth was he able to read you like that? So well and so accurate? It was all you could think about, not to mention the fact that it was also night time simultaneously.

You let your body fall onto your bed sheets. The feeling of restlessness was consuming your body. As you crawled into bed, you looked straight into the ceiling. Why were you thinking about his words so much? Were you really taking it out on him? You shook your head, mentally slapping yourself for even considering the thought.

Minho was a lazy slob who was extremely inconsiderate of others, especially you. But why was the thought of his fingers on your sides becoming the main source of agitation.? The silence of your thoughts was deafening, but they were easily interrupted as soon as you heard the door open, a high pitched voice followed what felt like the most ludicrous creek you had ever heard. ‘I should really put some oil on the door huh?’ You paused for a couple of seconds, this time physically face palming yourself for the dumb excuse you had made to see who he had decided to bring over to accompany him tonight. Legs completely ignoring your brain, you were out of bed, hand twisting the knob and peeking a look at the poor girl that would be subjected to Minho’s torture tonight. Tip toeing out of the doorway, you kept the weight of a feather on your toes, making yourself as invisible as possible.

“Y/n?”

Your pink panther stance of attempted deception looked utterly ridiculous and not sly at all was extremely confusing to the two. You quickly relaxed into a normal stance, the fakest of smiles coming across your face as you see who it is he brought home to have his way with.

“Chaeyeon… heyyy,” you lingered, “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

You would have been happy with literally anyone else. But Chaeyeon? Chaeyeon? It’s like she was your number one arch rival. Minho knew how much you hated her, yet he still let her come over. Everything about her you could not stand, not to mention the fact that she home wrecked your last serious relationship. Even though it was a while ago, you can forgive but not forget, her face being a constant reminder of your hurtful past.

“Oh hey Y/N,” she almost signed, her amount of excitement to see you matching yours, “I didn’t know you lived here.”

The arm he had around her waist made you sick.

“There’s a lot of things you don't know about me,” you mumbled, foot swaying back and forth, eyes focused on said foot.

“Okay, so you guys have had a little reunion,” Minho interrupted. Anything would have been better to break the awkward silence than his sarcastic comments, “we’re gonna go to my room now.”

“NO!” you interjected, covering the hallway with every bit of your being, “I mean, what’s the rush huh? Changbin is coming over as well.”

You paused, Minho’s face clearly cussing you out if yelling was inappropriate at this current moment.

“Uh no thanks Y/N-”

“We should all hang out!”

The excitement coming from your voice was so inauthentic, it was hard to miss.

“Yeah! Let’s all hang out,” you walked behind them, placing a hand on each of their backs and you hurried them to the couch, “I’ll get some beers in the fridge.”

“I actually only drink vodka,” Chaeyeon yawns, obnoxiously twirling her hair, her other hand aggravatingly high on his thigh.

“Oh that’s totally fine,” you gritted through tightly clenched teeth, “we have a bottle in the fridge, I’ll grab that for you as well.”

You scuffled back over to the fridge, mentally cursing yourself as you grabbed the necessary beverages. The confusion you were giving yourself about why you were putting in so much effort to spend time with the two people you literally hated more than anything was mind baffling

“So,” you began again, passing a Corona to Minho, a glass to Chaeyeon, “how have you been finding your course so far?”

You sat the Smirnoff and Orange juice on the table. Yes, you were being nice, but not nice enough to pour the drink for this bitch.

“Oh it was so great,” she smiled, “Jisung and I were living together, it was, well, a dream really.”

The feeling of your nails became prominent in your fists as your fingers caved in. The mention of his name was enough to make you see red, let alone the idea of them being happily together. The itch of your eye begging to roll was becoming too prominent, so much that you had to get up and walk away for a second. You stood up abruptly, confusion etched into Minho’s features. You didn’t want to make this a big deal, but the fact that she continued to gloat about it, long after you stopped listening was enough to reach your breaking point.

“I think I heard my phone ringing from my room, it must be Changbin.”

“I don't think I hear anything,” Minho smirked, plastering his lips on the edge of the bottle. The way his lips wrapped around the tip of the warm glass was something you ‘accidentally’ became fixated on. You puffed your cheeks, storming to your room and somewhat aggressively shutting the door behind you. Scrambling for your phone on the bedside table, you panicked, unclear mind as you scrolled through your phone contacts. You paused, an inducing amount of oxygen filling up your lungs. It did little to calm the irritated tingling sensation in your fingers.

Changbin’s name had finally popped up on your phone after what had felt like a lifetime.

“Hello?”

His voice was husky, guilt panging your chest as you realsied you had probably woken him up from his not very often deep slumber.

“Changbin,” you gasped, “you know how much I love you right?”

“What do you need me to do?”

You snickered at his words. He had been your friend for too long to know that those words would never be said unless you needed something.

“Can you come over,” you pleaded, “Chaeyeon is here with Minho because he invited her over late at night, and I told them you were coming over?”

“Jesus Y/n,” Changbin sighed, a playful chuckle tickling your cheek, “so you want me to come over and make Minho jealous?”

“Wait no wtf,” you jumbled, “make Minho jealous? I just want you to flirt with me and Chaeyeon so she leaves.”

“Mhm yeah,” he chuckled once more, voice laced with sarcasm as he spoke, “I’ll come over, but if you don't sleep with him by the end of the night, I’m gonna be extremely disappointed.”

“Yeah okay whatever just get your ass over here now.”

And with that you abruptly ended the phone call, Changbin giving you no peace of mind. Were you this easy to read by everybody? A frustrated sigh exploded from your chest. The games your head and your heart were playing with were helping you come to no resolution. You sat on your bed, thoughts were running crazy. Now would be a really great time to just put on Netflix and curl into bed, have some snacks and fall asleep, chip trail on ur chest to be found in the morning.

You were interrupted by the very loud knock on the door. Sprinting like your life depended on it, you were relieved. Seeing Changbin’s face had never before given you so much joy.

“Changbin,” you shouted, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace.

“Y/n what are you doing-”

“Shut up and go along with it,” you mumbled into his chest, letting up, but still keeping your body tightly wounded against his. Minho’s jaw became clenched, or were you just imagining things?

Regardless of what it was, your brain quickly shifted to the way Chaeyeon was eyeing Changbin up and down, almost like it was the first time she had ever seen an attractive male. ‘She definitely wasn’t looking at Minho like that when he walked in’ you thought, an unconscious smirk coming to mouth. You bit down on your bottom lip, an extremely poor attempt at masking the satisfaction of your goal being achieved so easily. One step closer to kicking her out, for good, because there was no way you weren’t talking to Minho after this about making an explicit declaration of her abandonment from this house.

“Minho,” he smiled, earning a nod, “Chaeyeon,” he smirked, an almost gag spilling out of your mouth.

“Changbin,” she followed, repeating his smirk, “long time no see.”

She gulped, engulfing a large sip of alcohol into her wicked mouth.

“Let’s play a game!”

“A game,” you questioned, raising an eyebrow, “why would we play-”

“I think that’s a great idea!”

You turned to look at him, a puzzled expression still very apparent on your facial features.

“Get the vodka out from the fridge, and let’s get started.”

***

Two bottles of vodka down, and what looked like 8 bottles of Corona sitting empty on the table, the games that were being played were becoming more difficult to comprehend. Sound of giggle and laughter constantly filled the room as everyone slowly began to lose their minds to the intoxication.

“O-okay, never have I e-ever, done a sexual act in public.”

Filters of chuckles and laughter filled the room as everyone, but you took a sip.

“What?” she asked, offering you her fake sympathy, “you’ve never done anything like that before?”

“I-I mean,” you stuttered, the look of confusion was evident, “I don’t think I have-”

“Yes you have.”

All eyes were snapped open and pressing into Minho’s skull as he began to converse.

“Pfft, no I have not,” you scoffed, taking another swig. An eye roll left came from Minho, followed by a sound of what seemed to be disgust as he shot gunned his current bottle.

“Yes you have,” he nagged, playfully hitting your shoulder, “I saw you.”

Complete silence fell over the room as he words lingered in the air. You genuinely had no idea what he was talking about.The feeling of the room had suddenly changed. His eyes became soft, fixated on nothing but the way your body slumped against the rough material of the couch.

Your mind began to drift. Thoughts floating into earlier scenes of the night. The closeness of his breath fanning your neck ever so softly, palms spread across your hips. The idea of marks on you swimming into your head. God that would feel so good. Letting him grab you and throw you onto his bed. Climbing up your frame, starting from the bottom of your legs, keeping a tight grip on your inner thighs. The feeling of faint lips stealing every inch of your being, tantalisingly hitting every, single, spot, finally reaching your-

“Y/N? Y/N!”

The feeling of Changbin's shaking your shoulders definitely brought you back to reality. His hands did feel nice, but they weren’t the ones you were longing for. Your head was thrown back, disbelief filling you as your mind continued to fill the gutter.

“When?”

As you moved closer, you giggled, placing your finger tip across his knee. You let them dance, index fingers tapping away at the skin you so desperately wanted to see in this moment.

“Mr. Lee Minho, when did you see me?”

“I’m not saying it here in front of-”

“Who? Chaeyeon?”

Your prowling continued, bodies even closer as you slowly began to climb him like an inanimate object. This would have been completely awkward sober. Nothing about this was romantic in the slightest. To an outsider, or Changbin and Chaeyeon, you were right there, situated across Minho’s lap. It wasn’t quite a straddle, it was just something. They both stayed quiet, paying little attention to your animalistic act, already focused on feeling each other up. Or so you assumed, seeing as they didn’t say anything. All that was heard was the sound of the front door. You snapped your head for a quick moment, eyes scanning the emptiness the room suddenly felt.

“It was in the car.”

Minho’s words felt heavy, like he had more to say.

“The car?”

You were taken aback, face moving away from the closeness of his. Part of your brain clicked, remembering exactly what he was talking about. With Jisung. The memory of hurt was quickly forgotten as the feeling of Minho’s palms spread across your body was bringing you to life. The adrenaline came all at once. Your mind was telling you to move away, but your body was saying something else, affirming it’s position.

Minho was leaning in, barely any spaces between the two as his fingertips began to spread lower and lower, firmly gripping either side of your ass as he moved you closer. A helpless whimper escaped your lips as you felt your legs tighten, heat running down to your core, quickly. What the fuck was happening right now?

“You were on top of him,” he whispered, pulling your hips against him once more, “just like this.”

“F-fuck,” was all that managed to slip out of your lips. This was becoming difficult. So difficult to say no and move away. You knew it was the right thing to do. Things would just be awkward and you could go back to hating him. No matter how much you tried, how much you wanted to, you were powerless. Every fiber of your being was being given up to him. You leaned in closer, foreheads now touching as you looked at him. His gaze was anything but lacklustre as his jaw became tense. His body began to ache simultaneously with yours. The pressure was becoming too much.

“Do you want this?”

“What?”

A small whine escaped you at the loss of his tips gripping your body. They quickly made their way to either side of your face. Your body began to rock back and forth on it’s own. You had become desperate for any sort of friction that you could create.

“I said, do you want this?”

“Do you?”

His expression made you nervous. It was hard to read. All you could see was the black substance of his pupils enlarge, increasing in diameter by the second. Almost like a supernatural being was possessing him.

“Fuck,” you grunted, wrapping your hands around his neck to steady yourself on top of him, “you’re making it hard to say no.”

Things were already becoming hazy the longer you stayed. A huff of frustration came from him as he was giving all his effort not to give into the way you were rubbing your dampening heat against him. It was like a drug he could not refuse.

“Kiss me if you want me.”

He huffed, the edge of his lips just barely brushing against the tip of your nose.

“Kiss me, and give me the green light.”

You waited a moment, any part of your brain that wasn't concentrated solely on his palms digging into your sides trying to reason. You looked at him once more. His eyes, nose, lips. His lips.

“Fuck it.”

He was quick to work, pushing you down to lie flat against the couch. A small kiss to your lips was felt as he pulled away, lifting his arms up and throwing his shirt to the floor at Usain Bolt pace. The smirk on your face was too easy for him not to see.

“You like what you fucking see don’t you?”

“Just shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

Of course. Of course he was still that arrogant cocky motherfucker that you could not stand. The one who never cleaned up after himself. Or took too long in the shower for the hot water to run out. All of these evil perceptions you had of your roommate were disappearing as his lips were gently placed onto yours. It was a little too slow for your liking, but it was deep. Boy, was it deep. Each movement of his tongue was made with so much precision as he lowered himself onto you. His thighs were clenched, a soft groan could be heard against his lips as his groin pressed into you. Holy fuck, were you really doing this? It was so wrong. Everything in the world was saying to stop, stop this.

“Mm- wait,” you paused your hands on his chest to push him away, “wait.”

A flash of panic waved over his eyes as he quickly jumped off of you, face palming the floor.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you? Are you-”

“I’m fine,” you interjected, giggling at the never been seen care and caution he had for you, “I just don’t think we should do this.”

“Oh,” was all he could say. You kept your gaze lowered; looking at him would have made you feel so guilty. The feeling of regret started to seep into your bones, but you couldn't tell: was it regret of this ever happening, or was it regret from stopping? Your head was too muddled to even attempt to comprehend what had just appended. The only sound that could be heard was your scuffed footsteps, quickly pacing back to your room and shutting the door, hard. The loudest sigh known to earth could be heard on the opposite side of the room as you let your body collapse. The ache between your legs was growing by the second; and as much as you tried to suppress the feeling of Minho’s lips on yours, fingertips dragging along your sides. No. It was much easier this way. Setting boundaries as roommates seemed to be a better idea for the long run.

But the long run was boring. You would both have to pretend that this never happened. Having other people over for sexual purposes would just be awkward now; the more you thought about it, the realisation, and the jealousy hit that you had already crossed said boundary. And maybe that’s why your feet had dragged you to the front of his bedroom door. How the fuck did you get here? You brought your knuckles to the wooden frame, door becoming slightly ajar as you gently knocked. Minho’s snapped his head around, covering himself quickly as you walked in. You cocked your eyebrow, a face of confusion apparent on your face.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he huffed, turning back to his previous position, “what do you want?”

You wanted to just walk out. Mind your business and just leave. But it was hard, quite literally. The imprint of what you assumed to be Minho’s naked lower half painfully pressing into the sheer sheets that was covering him. He paid you no more attention, giving you all the power to initiate whatever it is you wanted to initiate. You slowly crept in beside him, nuzzling your head into the back of his neck as he groaned in annoyance.

“Y/n, what the fuck are you doing in my bed?”

“Hmm, I think I changed my mind,” you whispered, reaching around to grab him. A blunt hiss escaped Minho’s lips as your action made him turn around. He was so close to you now. So close that you could feel his breath spreading across your left cheek.

“Are you being serious right now?”

The look on his face was unimpressed to say the least.

“Yeah, I mean,” your voice was calm as your hand began to take flight, sliding down to the base of his shaft, “we’ve already crossed the line, let’s go a little further.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. He grabbed you by the wrist that was currently on him, pulling it away and climbing on top of you. Both hands now leaving his side, securely attached onto both wrists as he pinned them down above your head. Nose clumsily tickling yours as he reattached his lips to yours. The feeling of his lips was much softer and calmer than before, almost like he was protecting you. Wanting to keep the moment so delicate, though the way his bare hips involuntarily grinding against your clothed core was far from it. A soft whimper came from your lips, vibrating against his. A soft chuckle was heard from Minho as he pulled away; it made you nervous. To be more specific, the way that arrogant, mischievous smirk that you knew all too well was spread across his face.

“You’re so responsive to me,” he growled, quickly planting another one on your lips before sliding down to your jaw, then your neck, stopping at your chest. Nothing needed to be said as you quickly discarded your shirt, silently thanking your past self for not wearing any underneath. Minho situated himself in front of your now bare chest, waist sitting against your heart as he took one nipple into his mouth, fingers enclosing around the other. A loud whine left your lips, back arching in reaction to him. He looked up, satisfied filling his body as you weren’t able to return his gaze, head already rolled all the way back as he continued his playful assault.

“It’s so cute,” he mumbled between kisses, “so responsive and I’ve barely done anything.”

His lips travelled down the center of your stomach, dipping dangerously closer to where you wanted him most. His continuous rhythm between kisses was immaculate. Any of the incoherent sounds you made, or the crude remarks he made were left unsaid.

“Fuck,” you hissed, painfully throbbing at the way Minho played with the waistband of your panties.

“Not fun to be teased y/n,’ he paused, making sure you were looking at him, “is it.”

A pang of guilt hit your chest for a moment. I mean, it’s not like you did it on purpose, right?

“Minho I’m-”

“Save it,” he scoffs, “whether you did it on purpose, or not, I’m not gonna let you have it so easily.”

His fingers stopped their performance across your hips, continuing a little lower than before. The smirk came to his lips once more, index finger running down your slit. The friction was fierce, but not fierce enough. You wanted, no, you needed more. All he could do was smile at your mercy.

“So fun to tease darling, but you’re gonna have to be more vocal if you want these panties off.”

“Minho please,” you whined, “for fucks sake.”

You bucked your hips forward, desperate for any more contact from the bare minimum he was giving you.

“That doesn’t sound very nice to me.”

“Minho please, please, please,” you whispered, voice becoming super weak, “fuck me, or finger me, anything please, I need to feel you.”

“Now that’s more like it,” he smiled, finally pulling your panties down. You have never lifted your hips faster in your life. The vulnerability of your naked body was somewhat confronting, but your brain was so fogged out from the immense teasing, you cared little.

“Fuck,” he gasped, spreading you effortlessly with two fingers, “you’re so wet for me, aren't you?”

The heat in your cheeks rose as you became embarrassed at his words. Minho didn’t know this, but feeling humiliated was something that could make you cum on the spot. Words intended for insult went through your ears and straight down to the core, the heat becoming like an intense fire igniting in your body as one of his hands moved along your inner thigh, the other gently beginning to circle around where you needed him most.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “oh my god Minho please, more.” Your voice was becoming needier by the second, but the longer it went on, the less you seemed to care. His tongue was now a factor coming into play, small kitty licks lapping your clit at a suddenly fast pace. Your legs are already trembling, but Minho does more to appease, hooking his arms under and around your thighs to stop the flustered look on your face. It was confronting how quickly he was getting you to your high.

“Please,” you sighed, eyes hazed as you attempted to look down at the way his tongue was on you. The combination of him sucking on your clit, then pushing it through your entrance almost made you scream. However, the noises that came from your mouth were small, heavy pants, progressively getting louder and louder the tighter the knot in your stomach became.

“Do you wanna cum princess?” His voice was whiny, mocking the tone you had used earlier. You nodded ferociously, knowing any attempt to speak would come out horse or just broken.

“Such a good girl,” he purred, replacing his tongue with two fingers, “but if you want to cum, you’re gonna have to beg for it once more.”

“You’re such a fucking dick,” you groaned, an attempt of grinding your center onto Minho’s fingers failing miserably, “you’re being so unfair.”

“I’m unfair?” he scoffed, beginning his digits back to a bare minimum pace, “you’re the one

who was teasing me all night. I know Changbin is like, your best friend so there was no chance you were bringing him back to fuck him. Then you start to kiss me, hard and fast may I add, AND THEN ! you aren’t sure and you leave me to pretend like nothing happened.”

There was no witty comeback you could say in response because he was right. You were the one who has done the teasing for most of the night.

“You looked so fucked out right now baby,” his tone coming back to a calming medium, “begging for me to make you cum, which I can do right now,” he paused, climbing back to your side, lifting your left leg to continue his easy access to ur clit, “or you can beg even more to have my cock inside of you. The choice is yours.” You swallowed, hard. How could he say something so filthy? Out of all the times you had heard him bring other girls over, he would never talk like this. It was always so nice and calm, full of praise and compassion. Maybe they didn’t act like cock teases and let him just have what he wanted.

“C-cock,” you mumbled, pushing your backside against his now pulsating cock, “please give your cock sir.”

“Ooo sir, I like that one, but you’re gonna have to do more if you want me to fill you up princess.”

Words were becoming extremely hard to not only facilitate in your mind, but put them on your tongue and get out to him. He knew this. He knew your were on the brink of collapsing in cum, but the torture was too entertaining for him nonetheless. Although you're frustrated with him was increasing, you couldn’t lie to yourself that the way he was using you like a sex toy was turning you on. After being up his ass so long with rules around the house and how you wanted things done, it was nice to finally let go. Submit to his rules instead of yours.

“P-please Minho, sir’ you panted, head turning to look at the sadistic face of enjoyment he was having from this, “I’ll do anything, a-anything to have your cock inside of me right now.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Okay then tomorrow morning, you have to make me breakfast, AND wash my dishes.”

“Seriously,” you panted, “that’s what you're thinking about right now?”

“You said anything.” He shrugged, suddenly taking his fingers away from your dripping core. A gasp of disappointment came to your lips at the loss of delicious contact. Minho sat up, ducking under your leg, and positioning himself right back to where he was previously. However, this time, he was on his knees. Although you were touching it before, you really hadn't had a chance to look at how big it was: way more than what you expected. He stroked himself a couple of times, making sure not to get carried away with himself before he pushed it between your folds, letting his pre-cum mix with your juices. He slowly descended into you. Jaws dropping simultaneously, you gasped. The way he was stretching you out did burn a little bit, but once he was fully inside, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Minho waited until the look of slight discomfort faded from your features.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip and he slowly pulled himself back out. He kept a consistent, yet slow pace as leaned in closer to you. He was now hovering over, letting his face become buried into the middle of your breasts. The feeling was so immaculate, you were desperate to cling onto something for support.

“Dig them into me,” he groaned, strangling his vocal cords, “dig your nails into my back and scratch me like your life fucking depends on it.”

Perfect. You did as he pleased, a loud moan of his name wrestling from your lips as you felt the red marks appear on his backside. The pressure from before was already building in your stomach again, and he could tell. The way you were super tight for him was one, but the way you were now clenching around him was another. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer if you kept doing that.

“Fuck,” was all you could manage to say, a deep grin plastered on his face.

“You’re close aren't you,” he cooed, attaching his lips to your neck, “talk to me baby, tell me what you're feeling.

“Mhm, yeah, fuck I’m so close baby. H-Harder.”

The pitch of your tone was becoming whinier by the second. To add to that, the way you became confused, as if Minho was a vampire, because the way he was sucking on your neck was kind of painful. Nevertheless, you relished in it, knowing too well that a very, very dark mark would replace his mouth. The idea of him showing his possession of you, knowing that he finally won you over did not make you happy, nonetheless, you were too fucked out to care.

Your legs were now pushed all the way back, pace fastening by the minute, allowing Minho to push even deeper into you. And that was it. Right there, the spot you had never even known was even there.

“Ah fuck!” Your moan was loud this time, completely unable to control anything. The smirk, in combination with the satisfied growl that left his lips was a face of pure ecstasy as he realised that he had finally hit your G-spot.

“Fuck that feels so fucking good,” Minho grumbled, “are you close? Because I think I’m gonna cum.”

It was like your stomach was an orchestra. Minho’s words were the conductor, completely controlling how close you were to your release.

“Y-yes,” you cried, “I’m gonna cum so hard right now.”

“You wanna cum baby?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna cum right now?”

“Yes baby,” you pouted, a perplexity of sounds escaping your lips, completely out of your control.

“Cum on my cock princess,” Minho whispered through what sounded to be like pained groans, “be a good girl and cum with me inside of you.”

And there it was, like it was on queue as your body completely flopped, legs shaking and a string of lewd curse words fell from your lips. The way your pussy clenched around him was enough to make him pull out, spilling into the dip of your stomach. A loud breath of what seemed to be exhaustion fell from his lips. Your eyes were previously screwed so shut, it hurt when you opened them again, sensitive to the light.

“Fuck,” you both cursed simultaneously, making one another giggle. Minho fell to your left side, flat on his back as he invited you to scooch over next to him. Face pressed against his chest, fingers playfully dragging up and down his torso. For some reason, he felt so safe and secure at this moment. Almost forgetting how he literally just fucked you into oblivion, your eyelids become heavy. It wasn’t until Minho spoke that you were revived from your alternate state of consciousness once more.

“I didn’t know you had it in you.” His voice sounded genuinely surprised, unsure if you should be offended or not. You looked up at him, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek. He wasn’t sure how to react, but the dark shade tinting his face right now said enough.

“Please,” you scoffed, “You did me good, but was that the best you can do?”

He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, but down on it after, “Is that a challenge?”

You said nothing, instead sitting up and pushing your legs on either side of his hips. A soft moan escaped his lips as he felt your still dripping heat sitting on the base of him.

“Why don’t you find out and see?”

[genshin-no-simp]

Kaeya x Reader x Diluc (Smut)

Pairing: Kaeya x You/Reader (Female) x Diluc

Sexual content below the cut.

Warnings: you are sandwiched between this two sexy men. What more can I say?

----------

If someone had told you that you would end up being sandwiched between the Dawn Winery Heir Diluc Ragnvindr and Cavalry Captain Kaeya, you would have laughed in their face and called them crazy.

But now here you are, in the empty tavern owned by Diluc, caged between the two.

You only planned to come for a few drinks, and then leave, but the ever smooth talking Captain convinced you to stay and keep him company while Diluc served your drinks.

Even after Angel's Share had closed and Diluc had locked up, you were convinced to stay. Not like you had anything else to do, even if the invitation to stay in the locked tavern seemed a bit strange. You had great trust for the two and they trusted you in kind.

So much so you didn't stop their wondering hands, as they tugged and pulled your clothes off. Nor did you stop their mouths as they kissed and sucked on your skin. Each gasp, moan and mewl only spurred the two on.

Not long after, they discarded their own clothing. Kaeya was now leaning against one of the tables, his cock dripping with precum as Diluc helped bend you over. Shyly you took Kaeya into your mouth, your hot, wet cavern engulfing him made him shudder. He let out a content sigh as you continued to take more of him in.

Behind you Diluc slowly rubbed his tip against your already dripping wet pussy.

"It seems your enjoying yourself quite a bit." Diluc smirked sliding into you easily.

You moaned around Kaeya, the vibrations caused the blue haired male to tip his head back with a groan. His hand found purchase in your hair pushing you down even further. You gagged slightly the lower you got, trying to fit him all in was becoming a challenge but one you wouldn't back down from. So you relaxed your throat allowing him to push your head down until you reached the base.

"Fuck," Kaeya swore as he gazed down at you. You looked so hot with your mouth full of him while Diluc filled you from behind.

Speaking of which, Diluc was patient, allowing you to get comfortable with Kaeya in your mouth before he continued to push inside you. Your eyes widened feeling your walls stretch around Diluc's girth. By the Archons these men were well endowed, you began to think you weren't going to survive through this endeavour.

You moaned again which was suffocated by Kaeya's cock still in your mouth. Diluc pushed in all the way, he groaned feeling your pussy clench around him. That's when he started to thrust, slow but powerful, Kaeya on the other hand tugged your hair, a silent request to start moving. You lifted your head up until only his tip was left in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it a few times before dipping your head down once again taking him to the hilt, sucking and lightly grazing your teeth against him. Kaeya couldn't stop his hips as they instinctively thrust forward into your mouth. A garbled moan escaped your throat. Kaeya licked his lips.

In time with Diluc's thrust, Kaeya thrust into your mouth. Your legs began to shake, you had to hold onto Kaeya's thighs for support, while Diluc gripped your hips. His thrusts got deeper and faster, as more of your slick coated him making it easier for him to slide in and out, some even dripping down your thigh. But you hardly cared for all you could think about was how these two men were making you feel.

So much pleasure engulfed your entire body, you didn't realized you had stopped sucking off Kaeya not that he cared anyway, it allowed him to thrust into your hot mouth that was dripping with your saliva. You gripped Kaeya's strong thighs as your walls clenched Diluc tighter. Your release was nearing, and fast and so was theirs. Diluc's thrusts got more and more wild as he continued to slam into you chasing his own end. It wasn't long, before you came and hard around Diluc, the moan it created from you set Kaeya off as he came in your throat, which you happily swallowed every drop. In turn the feeling of your release was all it took for Diluc to cum inside you, filling you to the brim.

Kaeya helped you up and off him, you looked at him with an incredibly flushed face, your lips coated with a mixture of your saliva and some lingering cum. It was quite the erotic sight. Kaeya could feel himself getting hard again. Diluc had pulled out of you and you whined looking back at him, now feeling empty.

"Oh don't worry baby, we aren't done with you." Kaeya said turning you around. This time your were facing Diluc, some of his hair was sticking to his face from the sweat, his eyes clouded over with lust as he stared down at you, Archons he really was gorgeous.

This time you were on your knees, between Diluc's legs as he rested against the wood floor, using the pile of clothing as a cushion. Your ass was in the air as Kaeya observed your pussy still leaking with Diluc's cum.

Without a care in the world you took Diluc into your mouth, Diluc let out a surprised moan, he hadn't expected you to take him in all at once, like a hungry slut. Kaeya couldn't help but chuckle.

"My, my, I didn't know were you such a cock hungry slut (Y/N)." Even though Kaeya was degrading you it turned you on more than you cared to admit.

With his fingers Kaeya scooped up some left over cum from your pussy, thoroughly coating two of his digits, before prodding your asshole. Your legs shook as your pussy twitched and clenched around nothing. Kaeya chuckled deeply as he thrust two fingers into your ass. You moaned closing your eyes, lowering your mouth deeper onto Diluc, who grunted in approval.

"You're so greedy (Y/N), not only are you sucking Diluc off like your life depends on it," he bent over to nip your ear, "but your also sucking in my fingers. I wonder what you'll do when I shove my cock deep into you." His voice deep as he spoke into your ear.

You shuddered pushing your hips back against his fingers, urging him to continue. Kaeya happily obliged, pushing his fingers in deeper, making a scissoring motion, stretching you wide. You couldn't help but moan around Diluc's cock as you continued to bob your head up and down while you rocked your hips back against Kaeya.

When Kaeya removed his fingers, you whined. About to remove yourself from Diluc to protest Kaeya had rammed into your ass with his cock pushing you back down onto Diluc's.

"Kaeya," Diluc hissed, out of both pleasure, as he felt you choke and gag around him but also out of disapproval with how rough Kaeya was with you. Kaeya knew what he wanted to say so he didn't wait for Diluc to continue.

"I don't think we need to worry about being gentle. She seems to be enjoying being manhandled." Kaeya groaned at the tightness of your hole, as he pulled out to slam back in.

Drool began to seep out the corners of your mouth the more Kaeya pounded into you. It felt weird being penetrated in your ass, but you liked it. And that was evident when your pussy started clenching again around nothing as it dripped with your slick.

Diluc's free hand traveled inbetween your legs he could feel your juices coating your thighs. Seems Kaeya is right, you do like being manhandled. Well if that's what you like, Diluc certainly doesn't mind. With a smirk Diluc rubbed his finger against your swollen touch deprived clit. You moaned deeply looking up at Diluc needily.

"You really are a whore aren't you?" Diluc asked, "I bet you'd do this for anyone," he shoved two fingers deep inside.

Your body shook as tears of pleasure rolled down your face. But you shook your head to his accusation. You'd never dream of doing this with or to anyone else.

"Special service for us then?" Kaeya added, as he too shoved two of his fingers alongside with Diluc's.

You gasped around Diluc's cock and nodded quickly, mumbling a yes. About to remove from your mouth for air Kaeya plowed into while pushing your head back down with his unoccupied hand.

"Good little whores finish what they started before stopping," Kaeya stated with disapproval.

You whimpered, looking up at Diluc apologetically. He groaned thrusting his hips forward, letting his cock hit the back of his throat. You would have to make do with continuing to breath through your nose as difficult as it was becoming. You were quickly coming undone with how rough Kaeya was thrusting into your ass, not to mention the four fingers that dove deep into your pussy, stretching you wider as your slick gushed out making a dirty sloshing noise with each thrust of their fingers.

You worked faster on Diluc sucking deeply, that was his breaking point as he came in your mouth, as with Kaeya, you happily slurrped up his seed. Hearing your greedy slurps, Kaeya couldn't hold himself back, and came inside you. You moaned loudly, the feeling of Kaeya filling your ass made you cum around their fingers. Your body shook violently from your second orgasm. You panted deeply finally able to breath from your mouth.

Diluc sat up putting his hands on your hips as he slammed his lips into your open mouth, his tongue invaded your mouth as you struggled to keep up with him. You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer as you rested your back against Kaeya's chest. Kaeya hummed in response, happy you hadn't forgotten about him. He pressed opened mouth kisses to your shoulder blade before making his way to your neck where he sucked and nipped, leaving dark hickies. You moaned as Diluc's lips left yours, trailing kisses down to the opposite side of your neck, leaving his own marks on you.

"K-Kae~ya. D-Di~luc." You moaned out.

"Yes princess?" They simultaneously asked in each ear. You bit lip, pulling both males closer.

"Oh? Are you still not satisfied baby?" Diluc cooed.

"Truly you are quite the whore," Kaeya chuckled, pushing both you and Diluc back down.

Kaeya made you straddle Diluc, his cock rubbed against your sensitive clit. It had you moaning already.

"Haven't even started and your already moaning." Kaeya mused as he lined himself up against your ass again.

Diluc gripped your thighs tightly as Kaeya groped your hips. Kaeya easily slid back inside without resistance, as he pushed you down onto Diluc. Both males now buried deep inside you. You let out a sob of pleasure. You've never been so full in your life. You could get used to this feeling, to the feeling of both of them claiming you from the front and back. You'd let them have their way with you whenever and wherever they wanted.

You placed your hands on Diluc's chest for support as your head hung lowly. A stream of moans flowed out of your lips as Diluc and Kaeya thrusts into you without mercy. Their pace fast, deep and hard. Unrelenting. It left you so brain dead you couldn't even moan out their names, it was just a series of 'ohs' and 'ahs' as they continued to drive into. It didn't take long at all before you were cumming all yourself and Diluc.

Your head was spinning, you were so dizzy from the pleasure, silent tears dripped down your face. Diluc cupped your cheek lovingly as he wiped the tears away. Shortly after your own release they had once again deposited their seed into you. You threw your head back with one last moan as they both pulled out of you. You whimpered gently.

You couldn't tell if you were falling, forward or backwards or upside down for that matter. You were still coming down from your high, all you knew was you had ended up in Diluc's arms, as he cradled you gently.

"You were so good for us princess." Diluc praised you softly. His praise made your chest flutter.

"Absolutely perfect," Kaeya reaffirmed, as he stroked your hair comforting. You let out a purr like sigh at the feeling.

And just like that, your remaining strength disapted and you were out like a light. When next you awoke, you were clean and dressed, albeit only in a flimsy night dress, it was still something. You rubbed your eyes as you sat up. You groaned at the pain in your lower half and legs. That's when you remembered what happened last night, your cheeks instantly flared up.

"Look who's finally awake." Kaeya's voice was the first to echo in the room.

"Good morning sleeping beauty." Diluc called out coming in beside Kaeya.

"Y-you...you two are unbelievable." Your face only got hotter. They only chuckled at you.

"I think you're the unbelievable one," Kaeya stated, "I'm pretty sure if you hadn't passed out, you'd want to continue." He teased.

You only groaned remembering how honry you got, throwing yourself down onto the bed. The bed dipped either side of you as Diluc and Kaeya sat down.

"We don't mind it you want to continue now though," Diluc purred in your ear.

And that's how round two started.

[thefanficmonster]

Perspective

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Corpse recounts the time he first met his now best friend who too has been gifted with a deep voice.

Requested by two Anons. This fic is a mash up of two very similar requests I got from an unnamed Anon and 🖤🥀 Anon, so a big thank you to the both of you for sending in your requests! I’m really sorry to be posting your requested fic so late but I hope the final product is gonna make the wait you had to endure worth it! If you come across it and read it, I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

“Yeah, yeah ok, I know.“ I can’t help but playfully roll my eyes at the comments that are flooding in, “Before any more people address it - even though it’s only been five minutes - I’m gonna address it myself: I apologize for the absence of the guest I promised would accompany me on this stream. She made the choice to party until late - or should I say early - and is currently probably asleep. And...I just don’t have the heart to wake her.“

In all honesty, all the blame should fall on Y/N’s lack of responsibility but I could never say such a thing - she rarely let’s herself loose and allows herself to have fun so there’s no way I’m gonna hold this one instance against her. Quite the contrary actually: I hope she starts going out and having fun more frequently cause really deserves it. She’s a super hardworking girl, studying college and working her ass off simultaneously.

“For those of you who don’t know who I’m referring to: the girl in question is Y/N, aka Jumpscaretastic, a horror games oriented streamer. She was supposed to join me for this freaky journey but...yeah I’ll have to endure it on my own because fuck me.“ I take a look at my chat again, deciding to keep this interaction with my viewers going for a bit longer before I start the game. I may be stalling but you sure as hell won’t hear me admit it. The game may be terrifying as hell - I have no doubt it is - but I doubt it would affect me so much if Y/N was here.  My eyebrows furrow automatically at the sight of one specific question that I’ve been getting asked quite a lot recently and I’ve been doing my best to avoid it cause the idea - to me, at least - is so messed up. Why, we’ll get into that later. “No- ok, this is the first and last time I’ll be addressing this wild assumption, you guys, so listen carefully. Y/N and I are by no means related. I’m not related to every deep-voiced person on this planet, just FYI.“ Speaking of Y/N’s deep voice which I’ve gotten so accustomed to hearing, I can’t help but recall the first interaction the two of us had when she got invited by Toast for a game of Among Us with us when Felix canceled on us due to technical difficulties. “I may not be related to her but she really put into perspective how other people feel and react when they hear my voice. I, honestly speaking was astonished by hers.“

A few months ago

“Ok guys, since Felix texted me about an hour ago, saying he won’t be able to make it, I invited a friend of mine so I hope that’s ok with you.“ Toast announces when the majority of us have accumulated in the lobby.

“Yeah, all cool. An introduction to them would be nice though.“ Charlie says, tampering with his avatar’s appearance on the in-game laptop.

“Oh, I’m sure she can do that herself.” He says with a bit of a chuckle, “Y/N?“

“I’m here, I’m here.“ 

My gaze moves from my chat to the monitor displaying the game in an instant as though it would reveal to me who the owner of this unfamiliar voice that just travelled through my headphones is. You know how my voice is considerably deep, yeah well this girl’s voice is six feet below that.  My eyes have widened without me even noticing as I hurry to unmute myself despite being a little late to the reaction party which already consists of a ton of ‘OMG’s and “WHOA”s from the rest of the people in the call. Not one of them, however, considers to question the authenticity of the voice.

“Was that a voice changer or something?“ I say, my eyebrows shooting up when I hear the laugh I receive in response to the question - a sound so deep but simultaneously sweet and girly it messes with my head.

“I wish I kept count so I could tell you which number on the list of people who’ve asked me that you fall under.“ The girl, Y/N replies, “But for the record no, it’s not a voice changer.“

Realizing how hypocritical this question probably seems coming from me, I decide to believe her - probably cause she gets nothing if she lies anyways. “Oh, so this is how it feels hearing my voice for the first time, huh?“ I say, slowly nodding my head, still in slight disbelief.

“Yeah, meeting her was quite rattling - in the best way possible though.“ I say, fixating myself back in reality following the little trip back in time to the day Y/N and I met. “She’s now one of my best friends so that should tell you enough.“

It goes without saying that, since she’s my best friend, I know her quite well. That being said, with the detailed knowledge I have on her, I can guess she’s gonna be in for a massive hangover when she wakes up. I just hope she texts me when she does so I can make sure she’s at least semi-functional. Just then, my phone buzzes with a message. Much to my shock, it’s a message from Y/N. Truth be told, I didn’t expect her to be up for another hour or two or three but here she is, sending a simple text that reads:

“My head’s pounding like a drum mid rock n’ roll concert“

There are no emojis accompanying the message, suggesting she’s deadly serious and in quite a bit of pain. Ok, I won’t sugarcoat it - she’s in a fuck-load of pain right now.

“The Sleeping Beauty has awaken and is complaining about a headache, just in case you were wondering.“ I chuckle seemingly nonchalantly as I silently contemplate whether to text her back or call her instead. Who’s gonna know better than my viewers, after all... “You guys think I should call her? Or would that annoy her?“ I ask, furrowing my brows at the chat as I see different responses coming in.

Meh, fuck it -  I think to myself, already taking my phone to call Y/N when the support of my viewers floods in as well.

She picks up after two rings, letting out a sound that sets the tone for the discomfort she’s in.

“Hello to you too.“ I say, putting the call on speaker so my mic can pick up her responses. “Would you please rate the pain you’re in right now on a scale 1-10?“

“A hundred.“ Her strained, raspy and deeper than usual voice comes through, stealing a chuckle from me, “I’m hungover and still a bit drunk. Like, how does that even work?“

“The morning after is a straight-up bitch. Welcome to the world of bad decisions.“ I tell her compassionately, low-key wishing I could go over to her place and provide her with at least a tiny bit of comfort, as much as I can.

“Yeah...“ she sighs halfway dramatically, “Anyhow, we usually text around this time, what’s up with the call?“

“Just wanted to make sure my best-girl wasn’t really dying, you know. Who am I supposed to annoy in Among Us if you’re not there, after all?” I raise my brow and, although she can’t see me, I bet she can probably guess I’m doing that.

“Whatever...“ The same way I can imagine her rolling her eyes while smiling as she said that, “Tell me this, am I wrong or was I supposed to be on your stream today?“

I barely manage to hold in my laughter at the question, “Uh, yeah you were, but...” she doesn’t let me finish my sentence, instead cuts me of:

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry, Corpse! I totally forgot. Believe me, if I could roll my ass out of bed I’d hop in but I really can’t. Unless you want me to be a bore for an hour and a half, that is.“

“For starters, you could never be a bore to me.“ I say matter-of-factly, “And for seconds, you’re kinda on the stream anyway...“

“Come again?“ She cuts me off yet again, “You’re calling me mid-stream? If so, hey everyone! Sorry I couldn’t join, I promise to make it up to both you and Corpse soon.“ A yawn comes from her end before she continues, “As of now, I think I’ll go back to sleep.“

“Alright, alright. I’ll call you again later to make sure you’re still alive. Sleep tight.“ I tell her, already hovering my thumb over the ‘Hang up‘ button.

“Won’t let the hangover bite.“ She slurs/murmurs, stealing my opportunity to end the call cause she does it herself.

I stare at my phone for a second, finally becoming aware of the grin that has spread across my face. Eventually, I address my viewers once again, “There you have it, guys. Technically, you can give her a pass for answering the call, especially in her current state, so let’s all agree to not hold this against her, cool?“

A brief look at my chat shows me the ton of fluffy comments that are coming in as a reaction to the interaction Y/N and I just had. One, however, sticks out especially. It reads: ‘You like her or smt?’

“Do I like Y/N?“ I read the comment out loud, a smirk coming across my face, “Of course I do. She’s a darling.“ If I had a webcam on I’d look straight into the lens and wink. That’s probably spark more than enough rumors, but at the very least they wouldn’t be wrong. “I’ve stalled enough, Outlast is waiting.“ I announce, finally starting the game. After all, it cannot be scarier than the conspiracies my fans could come up with. I get it though - from their perspective, we’re already the perfect couple; from my perspective we’re impossible because from Y/N’s perspective we’re best friends.

Ain’t that how it always goes?

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse  @sunnyrae-cessh  @ladykxxx08  @meowiemari  @renupf  @booklover76  @sra-verissimo  @beatrhizn  @blueberrystigma  @beatrhizn  @chicken-taco-burrito  @scorpios-echos

[littlemisslipbalm]

“you make me so angry sometimes”

idk if this gif makes sense, but i feel like it will if you read the story, it just gives me that vibe. 

A one shot I cooked up idk, it’s about Harry and a makeup artist on DWD, it’s quite angsty, idk how that happened, it’s also very long, idk how that happened either, maybe i do a part 2, maybe i don’t idk lmk. Feedback is appreciated, not proofread. REBLOGS help writers tremendously and i love reading whatever you write in the tags its my favorite thing!! Love yall and Merry Christmas!

Word Count: 17.7k | Warnings: ENEMIES to LOVERS! swearing, angst!, some anxiety -like self-doubt, yn being mean to harry kind of a lot, i dont remember, nothing too crazy, Nick Kroll?, lots of conversation

-

When she pictured herself as a makeup artist in Los Angeles, she hadn’t pictured exactly what she was doing right now.

She had expected doing gorgeous makeup for gorgeous actresses or doing wildly fun stuff like in Euphoria. And because of that she had worked her ass off to get where she was today. She had practiced for hours, worked countless hours for free, and networked to the cows came fucking home.

So why the fuck was she using tattoo-strength concealer to cover up the maybe 60 tattoos some asshole musician turned actor had all over?

Don’t Worry Darling was her first major film to work on so she couldn’t complain. She was happy to simply be there. Well she had been. The first day she had showed up 15 minutes early and had worn her favorite power suit she had. It was dark navy with a white lace long sleeve turtleneck underneath. She hoped to look fun but professional.

Hollywood was all about impressions, especially first ones, even when you’re the makeup artist. She had quickly learned that she was one of six makeup artists. One of them being the friend who had helped her get the job, Angie. Angie was like her surrogate mother in Los Angeles that she had met on her first film job for something much less high profile than Olivia Wilde’s second directing project. Her braided grey hair and fabulous jeans had drawn Y/N right in and they had connected instantly.

Since Y/N was deemed the most inexperienced by the head of the makeup department, she was relegated to easier jobs: assisting the other artists on main characters sometimes, mostly dealing with minor characters touch ups (and full make-up if she was lucky), and the job nobody wanted: tattoo coverage.

Harry Styles was one of the leads for the film and besides his minimal acting, everyone knew he was a worldwide rockstar. With the rock and roll life starting off as a popstar life at the ripe age of 16, he had amassed around 60 tattoos in the past decade. Impressive by her standard normally. She usually counted herself as an appreciator of tattoos and their art, finding them similar to makeup and the self expression that came with both forms. Especially since she had a few of her own, but when she walked into Trailer #6 and saw a good amount of Harry’s tattoos, she wanted to murder every artist he’d ever been to.

She had to make an inventory the first day of all of his visible tattoos when he was just wearing boxers. He had been friendly, trying to make conversation, but as the time wore on, they both grew tired and silent. She had to write down the location and a description of every tattoo and as he took off everything but boxers she grew more and more annoyed with his random and dumb tattoos. Some of them were amazing, the eagle, the anchor, the butterfly, and the ferns were probably her favorites. But some of them, she couldn't hold back her rolling eyes and annoyed expressions. The “Big” on his right big toe, a miniscule lock, almost everything on his inner left arm (the packers logo, Pingu, etc.)

She traces at the rose and the ship and then flips his arm out to reveal his inner arm to her gaze. “That is a big fucking bee.”

He snickers, “Y’like it?”

She ignores his question. “For god’s sake, someone is needle happy,” she said as she examined his left arm, taking note of every permanent drawing.

He shrugs his right shoulder, uninhibited by her prodding. “Dunno, beginning to regret some of them.”

“I would hope,” she mutters, scribbling on her paper the various ones she had just seen on his arm. Next was his ribcage ones.

He scoffs, “Oi, it’s not like you haven’t got any.”

“How would you-” She looks at him wide eyed.

“Right…” he takes his right hand and pushes her hair past her ear to reveal three little red line butterflies following the curve of her ear, “There. At least.”

She huffs and knocks his hand away from her. Her hair falling back into its place.

“Maybe some located in a few more intimate places I’m guessing from the red rushing to your cheeks right now.”

“Can you just let me do my job,” she says, not giving in to his teasing or sparing him a glance as she feels his intense gaze on her face. She was studying his left rib cage where a few cool tattoos happened to be.

“You at least have some taste or persuasive artists because not all of these are shit,” she speaks again after just the sound of her pen on the paper filled the trailer.

“Gee, thanks,” he laughs unamused and rolls his large green eyes.

She thought he had some of the biggest eyes she’d ever seen. But she also knew to keep that to herself because he’d either take it as a compliment and think she was noticing him too much or he’d take it as a massive insult and get her fired.

His right hand taps at his thigh, tapping a rhythm she didn’t care to pay any attention too. She just wanted to finish the stupid inventory of the stupid tattoos on this stupid man.

“Take those off,” she says to Harry, looking back at her clipboard again, filling up quickly with her notes.

He stands there, staring at her stubbornly. He was entirely bored with this exercise, especially since his company was some of the worst he’s ever had. She spares him a glance when she doesn’t notice any slipping off of the colorful sweatpants he’s wearing.

She arches a brow at him, her pen tapping impatiently against the paper. “Go on. Can’t imagine you want this to go on longer than it already has.”

He rolls his eyes again, slipping his thumbs into the waistline of the pants and tugging down. Simultaneously, he toes off the dirty vans he seemed to wear everywhere. The fabric pools easily and he steps out of them and discards them on the couch behind him. He’s actually wearing black briefs. She chooses not to notice anything further than that.

“Socks...can stay on,” She tries to say as he begins to peel one off. He stops midway and nods.

She flings his shirt to him, not needing to see his naked torso for another moment, “I know you’ve got some feet and ankle tats, but I also know that you won’t be wearing anything that will expose them. Thank your lucky stars that I don’t have to makeup your feet.”

He catches the shirt easily and slips his arms inside before tugging it quickly over his head and over his expansive shoulders. The ferns disappear out of sight.

“Well then we’re almost done then. Just got the knee ones -”

“And the tiger. That’s gonna be one son of a bitch,” she sighs and examines his legs, not bothering to crouch.

“What the actual fuck dude?” Her tone is exasperate and like she would rather be anywhere else than here.

“I’m sorry?” He sputters, hands on his hips and eyes bewildered.

“Yes. No. Oui. Non. Who are you?” She rubs at her eyes and shakers her head.

“S’a little rude.”

“You’re right,” she semi-rushes out at his serious tone, ready to apologize. When a grin spreads over his face and he chuckles under his breath she really wants to smack him upside the head. He was exhausting. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thought it was funny at the time. Kind of think it’s even funnier now since it’s got you all mad.” He leans over her shoulder to look at her notes and when she glances at him unhappily he just looks smug.

“Alright,” she finishes the scribble of a description and clicks the end of her pen, “All done. You can get dressed. I’ll see you bright and early for tattoo makeup. It’s gonna take about an hour to do all this, just so you can mentally prepare for that.”

“It was nice to meet you,” he attempts at a friendly and professional farewell. “See you tomorrow…” he trails off as he watches her turn on her heel and walk out of the trailer door swiftly. The door swung shut and bounced a little bit in her wake.

Harry sighed and adjusted his clothes and hair in the mirror. After a moment he shakes his head, an even louder sigh escaping him.

-

“Good morning!” She greets happily, walking into the trailer without a knock. Well-rested and happy at least that she doesn’t have to just inspect a body, she looks around the trailer.

She realizes no one is there and she’s taken aback. First of all, if Harry wasn’t there then he shouldn’t have left his trailer unlocked. And second, he was fucking late, the fucking twat.

She grumbles, setting her coffee on the countertop. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “In through the nose, out through the mouth” she mutters. She knew this was a big opportunity and having a big star like Harry in her corner could make her career. She needed them to get off on a better foot today.

“Good form, I’d say relax the shoulders a little more,” the door swings open carrying the California twang-British accent that she would soon become all too accustomed to.

Harry points at her shoulders and narrows his eyes regarding her in the trailer. She offers a strained smile through the mirror and Harry sets down his personal things on the couch.  

“Alright, well let’s get started shall we,” she smiles and turns to him, gesturing to the swivel chair next to her.

He nods, a twinkle in his eye as he regards her. He’s unsure of the tone and attitude she’s giving him today. She had been feisty yesterday, cordial at times, but mostly biting and witty. He had liked it. It had made the whole ordeal bearable whereas now she seemed to be laying it on a little thick.

“Just your hands and neck today,” she says, pulling out the makeup materials needed and a checklist of the tattoos she needed to make sure were invisible.

“Should only take..a little under an hour today. Just gonna remind you now though, other days we won’t be so lucky.”

Harry chuckles under his breath and rolls his head around his shoulders before sitting in the chair. “Were you tired yesterday?” He inquires.

“Why do you ask?” She throws a glance over her shoulder at Harry. He’s begun slipping off his sweatshirt and yawns as he does it.

“You seem different from yesterday and I’m just wondering which one is the real you.”

She continues working about the room and rolls her eyes to herself, “I’m always the real me. I come no other way, but this morning I woke up and thought ‘this is the job you’ve fucking wanted for ages, so stop being such a bitch so you don’t get fired, you prick’.” She pauses and turns to face Harry. “The ‘you prick’ was directed at me, that was still part of my thought,” she adds.

He throws his head back and laughs. Then he nods, still laughing lightly, “I get that. Sometimes I’m just so in my head and yesterday I was just so fuckin’ bored. Sorry if I got on your nerves.”

“Don’t mention it.” She waves her hand at him nonchalantly.  

Then she moves to inspect his hands and notices the lack of rings, unlike yesterday when she had to make him take them off.

“You have amazing cuticles,” she notices and mentions without any pretences. Harry mutters his thanks, pursing his lips as he watches her work.

She stops her inspection and places the clipboard on the countertop in front of them.

“Could you take your necklaces off? I need to cover up half of the swallows and the years, for when you unbutton your shirt a bit.”

He wets his lips and nods, hands going to fiddle with the clasps behind his neck. He slips off one of the necklaces with ease, a yellow eye beaded necklace that he lays gently on the countertop next to the clipboard. Then he takes his cross and pulls it over his head, no clasp needed.

“Could I put some music on?” Harry asks after five minutes of Y/N working in silence and Harry only being able to stare either at himself, her work, or nowhere.

“I can,” she stops her work for a moment, “Can’t have you messing up the makeup before it sets. Otherwise I’d have to kill you.” Harry can’t be sure if she’s joking or not. Therefore, he was intent on not messing it up.

“Any requests?” She stands at the counter now, instead of seated on a stool working on Harry's left hand.

He shrugs, like he hasn’t got the faintest idea about good music. She refrains from rolling her eyes once again because she feels herself in a test. She wets her lips, sifting through different things in her Spotify and then lands on her playlist titled “it’s your song” named after Elton John’s song. It had some other musicians, a mix of Queen, Bowie, and more and she was sure she would pass the test.

She presses shuffle and She’s Always A Woman by Billy Joel begins to play over her laptop. Harry nods pleased and she wants to shake her head at him.

She can’t hold back the scoff though after a moment of going back to finishing his hand.

“What?” His British accent thickens with his annoyance growing.

“Nothing,” she chirps, intently putting the final touches on his wrist.

“Seriously. What?”

She stands and sets down the makeup. “Can you unbutton your shirt?” She made a note to herself that from now on she’d have to have him take his shirt off before setting to work because if his hands got messed up she’d have to start over. Thankfully he was already wearing a button up this morning.

He stares at her, offering no movement, just inquisitively waiting for her to respond to his original question.

She shuts her eyes, taking another deep breath and then bites at her lower lip. “It’s just...you’re so easy to read.” She fears adding anything else and moves towards him with the makeup hoping to encourage him to unbutton his shirt.  

His right hand deftly pulls at the buttons as he regards her. His eyes are intent on her, she can see him clearly calculating her. Her green paisley button up tucked up into the back of her bra leaving a splay of her stomach. The semi-balloon sleeves cinched at the wrists leading to her slightly ringed hands. The oversized blue jeans that have no holes, just a tiny patch right next to the left pocket. The frayed ends of the pants laying over her rather pristine white old skool vans.

The Boxer fades in as she waits for him to finish the unbuttoning of the shirt. He’s still staring at her.

“Am I?” He finally inquires, voice pitched higher like he doesn’t believe her.

She gives him a serious stare and leans over him and adjusts the collar of his shirt. She adds paper towels to avoid makeup on his clothes.  

“Yes!” She laughs, “And you don’t even think so, which is like...of course.”

He hums, tilting his head back as she sets to work on covering up the swallows. He wiggles his hands that now both rest on the arm chairs.

“I don’t see it.”

“Of course you don’t,” she glances at his face, their eyes meeting for a moment. “You’re Harry Styles. Everyone is in love with this image you created for yourself and it has just enough of your true self that people feel like they really know you, but you also maintain the illusion. So you think you’re this mysteriously amazing, not like the rest guy, but you are just like the rest of them. Obsessed with yourself and rich so you’re deemed eccentric rather than crazy for all the extravagant shit you do. So when you want me to play music and don’t offer any suggestions I know exactly what music I need to play for you to like me.”

“I feel like that last part says more about you than it does me,” he quirks a brow at her, straining his neck to look at her face as she continues to work.

She flushes, his response both better and worse than she expected. She had gotten a little carried away in her response and she had no idea why. She truly wasn’t one to go off on people so easily and especially not with someone she hardly knew, but something about Harry had her on edge. She was just thankful he hadn’t gotten mad at her response, instead he took it in stride. Further proving her point that he was extremely smart and did things purposefully and she saw right through it all.

She grumbles, “It says that all anyone has to do to get close to you is understand the smallest bit about you and you’ll let them in.”

“That is just so completely wrong, Y/N, I hate to break it to you.” It’s Harry rolling his eyes now, unable to move much more of his body as she continues painting on the concealer to remove his tattoos for the movie.

“Fine. Enlighten me on what I got wrong.”

Their argument had all but drowned out their music. They both did love this music and ironically if they would just shut their mouths, they’d probably like each other a lot more.

“Might as well,” he sighs. “First of all, my image is authentic and of course I don’t want to give myself all away. I enjoy my privacy and for everyone to truly know me I’d have to give that up. Which I’m not keen on. So, I regret to inform you but I am the same guy everyone is “in love with”. Second, I know I am a little self-involved, how else would I get here if I wasn’t constantly taking inventory of myself and reevaluating who I am. As a musician, I want to give as much of myself as possible or else it just feels inauthentic. And the extravagant thing, I can’t help that I like nice things and my job has allowed me to afford those things.”

He stops to take a deep breath and she’s working in stunned silence, in disbelief that Harry is even telling her any of this or that he’s spoken that much and so quickly. Wasn’t he notorious for speaking slowly with barely even a sentence worth of actual information. He sounds tired and frustrated, but also, surprisingly, sincere.

He continues, “The music thing. Maybe it was a test, but still it doesn’t mean I give everyone a mile when they say their favorite musicians match up with mine or something. I note that they either did their homework or might be an interesting person to get to know.”

“So which am I?” She widens her eyes.

“Obviously the second even if you’re also making it painfully clear that you don’t like me.”

“You’re smarter than I thought, Harry. I’ll give you that,” she smirks slyly, finishing up the bird coverage now.

He laughs. “Thanks,” he drawls out.

“And I admit that maybe you aren’t as easy to read as I made out, but I think we’re going to have to agree to disagree about the whole being your authentic self. I just don’t buy it. I can see your mind working constantly, you’re not one to just let yourself be free in public. And I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, I’m just saying, you shouldn’t pretend like that’s not what you’re doing.”

Her final thought leaves Harry silent. She pays no attention to his silence or at least she’s actively ignoring it. Instead she tunes back into the music that had gotten them back onto the wrong foot. This was going to be a long few months.

When she’s satisfied with her work, she has them sit there for thirty minutes to give it all time to set before Harry is off to hair and other makeup. They sit there listening to music. Neither of them have spoken again, except instructions from her and Harry’s hums of approval of songs.  

Harry stands up after thirty minutes as she stays behind to pack up some items. Just as he’s about to step out of the door, he turns and calls her name.

“For the record, I don’t think you’re giving me a fair shot. You said yourself that you’re different every day. That every version of you, is you. So I hope you’ll give me the same allowance, every version of me is me. In this trailer, in my music videos, on tv, in interviews, in my free time. It’s all truly me.”

She bites her inner cheek as he ducks his head and exits the trailer, not allowing her any response.

-

“You’re late!”

“Meeting ran over with Nick and Olivia. Sorry,” Harry says as he begins to undress.

It’s the first day she has to cover all of his tattoos. It was going to take forever by all accounts. It had been two weeks since shooting had begun and she had gotten the simple hands and neck down to 45 minutes so she could only dread what his entire body would take.

“It’s fine,” she grumbles, knowing there wasn’t really anything else she could say about him coming late from a meeting with the director and producer.

Over the last two weeks, they hadn’t grown any fonder of one another. Not at all. They at least had gotten into a system though and she was grateful for that at least.

They showed up, Harry got in his chair, she set up the music, and they got to work. Harry would practice lines on some days and he’d tell her that before she turned on the music so there were no interruptions. Sometimes they talked about stuff on set or music or she’d give Harry his line when he was trying to be off script and forgot one. She wouldn’t classify it as pleasant, but they weren’t at each other throats like they were originally.

Trailer 6 had gotten a little homier as the weeks went by, too. Harry began leaving some of his stuff there and he started putting up silly drawings he would make while on set or polaroids people had taken with him while he was there. He tacked up napkins of restaurants that catered the set and wrote funny jokes and quotes on post it notes. His personal assistants sometimes brought in snacks while Y/N was still working and Harry always offered her some. They were usually healthy, but sometimes she’d eat some. Jeff, his manager, had also stopped by on occasion during his tattoo touch-ups that had become a thing after shooting days had grown longer.

On first meeting, Jeff had said, “Y/N? Harry mentioned you.”

She had turned to Harry with an arched brow and he had shrugged. When she looked back at Jeff she didn’t see Harry give Jeff one of the deadliest looks he could muster. She had grimaced and said “Well we spend enough time together for him to know my name. So thank god for that at least.”

They had all laughed and she had gotten back to work on Harry’s wrist.

Today, she needed Harry in his shorts. It was the first day of shooting where his character would be only in his boxers so she had to cover up all his visible tattoos. Olivia had told the makeup department they actually had to cover up his feet tattoos as well. She wanted him sockless in the scene and Y/N had groaned immediately when she made it to the trailer and Harry wasn’t already there.

“But please, for the sake of my job, strip, dude.” She says, arms crossed over her chest and leaning against the counter as she watched Harry set his things down. Her soft green striped cardigan is open, exposing the white tank top sitting underneath. Her bright green shorts hang loose on her, cinched at the waist and folded over once. Her white high top nike’s tap impatiently on the floor, waiting for Harry to get moving.

He nodded, truly feeling sorry for his tardiness, knowing today was a long day. He was anxious and tired. Acting was a different experience to music and he just was really trying his best.

As he began to take off his shirt, he laughed. His arms pulled the shirt over his head and when it popped out from beneath it, he repeated, “Strip, dude,” attempting to mimic her American accent.

He had practiced his American accent in front of her while running lines, but it had a 50’s drawl to it. His acting coach had been drilling him for weeks before shooting and he still liked to practice. The accent he had just down was far off from that and far off from hers too.

“Do not,” she warned.

“What?” He asks innocently and flutters his eyelashes.

She knows his game by now and she knows she should just ignore him. She knows this after fourteen days. She knows this after hours with him. She knows this, but then she’s opening her mouth and playing into his teases.

“Sorry, what’s a word you would know? Mate?” She tries for a British accent with the last word, knowing she can’t win this.

Harry snickers and scratches at his nose with his index finger before starting on taking off his pants. “You’re so Californian.”

“Thank you,” she chirps, moving to sit beside him now that he had settled.

“I like your shorts,” he muses, crossing his legs, likely a little cold.

She glances down at her cotton shorts that showed more of her thighs when she sat for a moment before returning her gaze to his left arm. The longest task of the day was this damn arm.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, “Wanted to be comfortable today. Knew it was gonna be long.”

A smile bubbles onto his face, his pink lips parting to reveal his shiny white teeth behind them. “So true.”

The music is low today. She had chosen Joni Mitchel’s Blue album for the first pick of the day. She had quickly learned Harry preferred listening to albums in order. It tended to make him less jumpy when the same artist came on multiple times like an album. So when she tried to play just an album one day, she found him more cooperative and less irritable.

After thirty minutes of work, she can’t stop noticing how shivery Harry is. It was late October in LA, so it was still warm, but admittedly the mornings could be a little chilly. His shivering was concerning for many reasons. Mainly he was messing up her work and concentration, but she also didn’t want him to get sick or something.

“Do you want me to see if they have a blanket and slippers or something? You look like you’re turning blue.”

Harry turns his attention to her. He had been reading over the script for today again. “That’d be great. I can call…” He trails off trying to think of the name of one of his assistants, but apparently he’s too scatterbrained for it. She assumed it was the hypothermia traveling to his brain already.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll walkie someone.” She says as she grabs the walkie talkie, flicking to the personal assistants channel.

“Hey,” she chirps happily. Harry noted how she talked to other people. So sweet, yet sincere. With him, it was serious and sincere but more biting, callous at times. Less so lately, but she definitely was sharper with him. He didn’t know if it even bothered him anymore. She was engaging if nothing else.

“Is someone free to bring two blankets and men’s slippers over to Trailer 6? I’ve got a naked Jack and I don’t want him freezing before I’m done covering up his tattoos.” She takes her finger off the talking button and glances sideways at him, “Who knows, maybe that would improve his acting. Y’know on second-thought-”

“Alright, alright,” Harry tries to grab for the walkie talkie, but she turns from him holding a finger up signalling him to wait as she listens for a response.

Someone says a simple “On it” and she turns off the walkie talkie and gets back to work.

“I took my finger off the speaker before I said the thing about your acting. Relax, Harry.” She says when he’s still glaring at her. “Just love to see you squirm.”

He shakes out his short chestnut hair, some of it falling over his forehead. Instinctively, she reaches up without even looking and smooths it back. Like she was tucking her own hair out of her eyes, but instead it was Harry’s. She decided to say nothing and was relieved when Harry didn’t say anything either.

She finishes his forearm and moves to his outer upper arm. The rose holds her attention when the PA knocks on the door and she has to race to get it. Nothing could stop her from moving on this work. It was already an hour in and she wanted to scream.

She swings open the door and she wants to die. It was Autumn. Her least favorite PA, of course. She was insufferable and obsessed with Harry. Which was not why Y/N found Autumn insufferable. There were so many more reasons. So many. But that particular character flaw didn’t help her case either. Y/N tried to just take the blankets and slippers from Autumn, but the woman insisted that she come in.

“I’ve got it,” Y/N says.

“No, don’t want you to get makeup on anything,” Autumn’s saccharine voice grinds at her ears and she contemplates cutting them off.

Harry sat in his chair, legs crossed, nodding along to the music, his script discarded on the counter in front of him.

“Hi Harry!” Autumn practically yells, walking right up to him.

Y/N takes a deep breath at the door, letting it swing shut. She bites her lower lip as an attempt to bite her tongue as she walks back to her set-up. The set-up Autumn was conveniently blocking.

“Hello, Autumn,” Harry says kindly, making eye contact with her. “How’re you today?”

“So great! So great! Thanks for asking. How are you?” She points a finger at him like she might poke him and Harry squirms away from her a bit. She, of course, doesn’t notice this.

“Well, thanks.” His eyes flicker to Y/N, who is standing behind Autumn, hands on her hips and attempting not to tap her foot. His tone is clearly dismissive, but Autumn must ignore it. Y/N knows Autumn isn’t as helpless as she tries to come off.

Autumn asks, “Where do you want these?”, gesturing to the two blankets and slippers stacked on top.

“Just on the counter is fine, thanks,” Harry says.

Autumn does as he says and then stands there with baited breath. Y/N’s not sure what she’s expecting. For Harry to ask for her hand in marriage or something? But he just glances between the two women. His own foot begins wiggling in impatience.

“Busy day,” He attempts at dismissing her once again - with kindness.

“Oh my gosh, totally!” Autumn gushes, starting to go off on all of the tasks she has to do. She stands so close to Harry, Y/N genuinely thinks she’s going to sit in his lap. Y/N stares up to the ceiling, begging god or whoever to end her misery right there and then.

Harry sees Y/N’s expression and tries to maintain the neutral expression he’s had for the entirely too long interaction. A smile threatens at his rosey lips that had chapped from the morning air.

“Right, well,” he cuts off Autumn, “Y/N needs to get back to tattoo coverage, I think. So...have a nice day.”

Autumn’s eyes widen like she forgot that there was anyone else in the room and steps back from Harry. Y/N nods, a grimace clear on her face. Autumn gives her the same small she used to get from the popular girls in high school when she happened to be talking to their cool guy friend that they wanted to be more than friends with. Sickeningly sweet and completely fake. She could see the contempt in Autumn’s eyes that swirled just beneath the surface of her perfectly outlined green-ish eyes.

“Okay! You too, Harry!” She begins walking to the door and Y/N takes her seat again, closing her eyes and counting to ten. “And Y/N,” Autumn adds as an afterthought.

“Oh my fucking god,” Y/N sighs, her hands going to rub over her face and through her hair. “That was exhausting. Jesus Christ.”

“What? She’s nice. Maybe a little clueless,” Harry counters. “But she was so nice,” he confirms again, seemingly trying to convince himself of it as well.  

She grabs the slippers and slips them on the ground so Harry can put them on easily. Then one of the blankets that she drapes over Harry’s bottom half. He smiles at the gesture, a ‘thank you’ said in a whisper.

“Please, she knows what she’s doing,” Y/N scoffs, “And she’s obsessed with you!” She grabs the concealer to get back to work, “She was all over you and never took her eyes off of your body. It was like she wanted to touch you or something. It was icky.”

“You touch me,” Harry adds cheekily, adjusting beneath the warm blanket.

She laughs, a smile gracing her lips as she gives Harry a look. He was clever.

“It’s my job to touch you, Harry.”

Harry had really tried to not laugh, but it was just so funny. They both snicker, their eyes meeting for a moment longer than usual.

“Speaking of my job,” she adds after controlling her laughter, “Does she not realize just how long it takes to cover all of your bloody tattoos with this shit to make it look like you’re a pristine skinned 50’s psycho killer?”

She finishes the rose coverup and moves to the ship. Harry nods solemnly.

“It’s true...And it doesn’t help that you’re terrible at it, so it takes a thousand years longer than it should.” He adds, laughter overtaking his serious tone at the end.

“Oh my god!” She shrieks in delight, trying not to mess up her work, “That is so rude! I messed up one time - mostly because of you, by the way. And give me a break, this is so not what I thought I’d be doing as a makeup artist for movies.”

He nods again, muttering “Fair, fair.”

They grow silent, enjoying Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, the album that she had queued after Joni’s.

“The body thing, I just learned to ignore it, I think.” Harry mutters, eventually, but it’s thoughtless, like he’s not revealing anything about himself with the statement. But it kind of shocks her. Her eyes widen and she stops her work to stare at his face.

“Harry,” she waits till his eyes meet hers, “That’s, like, not normal. Are you serious?”

“I mean, I’m very comfortable with my body, like I haven’t minded the last 45 minutes of sitting practically nude in front of you. And I have plenty of revealing photos out in the world. I just don’t notice staring anymore, it’s not, I don’t think it’s what you’re thinking,” he tries to reassure her. His eyes are intent on hers, full of seriousness that hadn’t been there a few moments ago.

“It’s one thing to be comfortable in your skin and another to be desensitized to objectification,” she insists.

He nods. “I know. Thank you. I would let you know if what she had done had bothered me, so don’t worry. I felt completely safe the whole time.”

“Good,” she nods back and concentrates again. “Good,” she repeats once more under her breath. There had been way too many distractions already today and she wasn’t even done with his arm yet.

As she continues to work up his arm, Harry sings along to some of the songs on Elton’s album. He happily taps his feet to the different beats, now safely tucked in soft fluffy slippers. She would never admit just how amazing it is to be in the same room as Harry’s singing. It was truly special to be less than a foot from him and hear him sing just under the unique voice of Elton - who was someone he actually knew, which was equally as cool.

He hit every note and knew every word. She was impressed. How could she not be when a literal rockstar sat before her? This was the first time she was truly starstruck by her charge, Mr. Harry Styles.

By two hours, they had moved onto an album by Dolly Parton and they were both singing. They strangely had no fights today, maybe some snarky comments from both of them, but no outright mean-spirited words were exchanged.

She stood in front of Harry, finishing up the swallows. She had finished both arms and the birds, all she had left was moving down his body. Up next, the butterfly.

“I love this tattoo,” she mumbles, twisting Harry’s standing body to face her and taking her seat again. This left her eye to eye with the butterfly on his stomach.

He makes a surprised face and raises his recently plucked eyebrow at his counterpart. “Oh really?”

“Don’t act so surprised. I told you day one that not all of them are rubbish and honestly they’re all pretty cool. I just was so annoyed that I had gotten tattoo coverage as my job and then I had to go and index them all.” She flicks her eyes up to his sculpted face and sees he’s watching her work. “Plus, I have some butterflies of my own, remember?” She grins.

“Yeah,” he ponders her words, “I don’t think that’d put me in a good mood either.”

He pauses again and she continues to work silently.

“So what’s your excuse for the second day then?”

“You provoked me,” she doesn’t spare him a glance, shrugging like it was the simplest answer in the world.

“Pardon?”

“Let’s not go down this road again, Harry.” She sighs, smoothing over the freshly covered butterfly tattoo. His sternum looked so naked, it was unnerving. Now the ferns.

Harry involuntarily shivered when her fingers traced over the ferns lightly, taking note of the expanse of skin she’d have to cover.

“You’re right,” he agrees, “But agree to disagree on the provocation.”

“Sure,” she says curtly, focusing on his skin and her job.

The expanse of skin that the ferns inhabited was slightly fleshy and especially soft. It bordered where his boxers began and she ignored that part of his body completely. It was of no importance to her and she really had no issue blocking it from her vision, even when it was right in front of her. She finishes one fern with Harry jumping only twice from her cold hands. He couldn’t put his robe on until the makeup had all set for half an hour so he’d have to be cold for possibly another hour still.

She traces the fern that is still visible and Harry shivers. She instinctively shushes him softly and his body quiets. As she works, her hair splays around her shoulders and Harry looks down at her working and doesn’t realize what his hand is doing until it’s too late. His right hand runs over her hair, smoothing it out of her face. It was rarely ever down, so it must have been the novelty of it.

“Sorry, I-” he chokes out when he jerks his hand back.

She sits back, slightly taken aback. Her body flushes just from their positioning and what a hair caress would mean normally in this position, but she’s a professional and she shakes it off.

“It’s fine. We’re even.” She assures him, breaking eye contact with his own wide eyes. “Seems like we’re both hair touchers.”

“It’s just so soothing,” Harry muses. “I think it’s human instinct to touch other people’s hair since it’s so enjoyable for yourself.”

“Possibly,” her voice raises, his thought was definitely plausible. Or maybe they were just two touch starved people who were very much in each other’s personal space 24/7.

At the two and a half hour marker, she gets a walkie message from Olivia’s assistant asking when they’d be done. She had just finished the tiger tattoo, which had been surprisingly easy. It took a while, but Harry didn’t shiver once and neither of them pet each other’s hair.

“Probably 40 minutes, sorry. He has a lot of tattoos and the makeup needs to set.” She says seriously and gets back to work, barely regarding the response of “Yeah it’s fine, just wanted an estimate”.

“Jesus,” Harry moans as she covers up his knee tattoos.

She groans in veiled disgust, “Did I just hit a secret erogenous zone? Is that why you have ‘oui’ there, you creep?” There’s a teasing tone behind the nickname she uses.

Harry laughs and runs his hand over his face, pulling at his jaw and lower lip. His jaw is so sharp, she watches him adjust it. “No, no. I’m just so goddamn tired of this.”

“And it’s not your fault,” he adds, feeling bad immediately after he said it. “It’s actually been nice today, but I’m feeling antsy, like I need to move. I don’t like to sit still.”

“I know,” she says under her breath. She simply nods in agreement.

Finally, the tattoos are all covered up and set. They had talked about George Michael when she got to his ankle tattoos that she hadn’t seen before and they laugh about the tattoos and chat a bit more. She helps him slip on his robe that he keeps in his closet in the trailer and then follows him out of it. They had decided they were hungry and he had been pushed back an hour since he had taken so long, so he had a free half-hour.

As they walked to craft services, they talked about actual things besides work. She was pleasantly surprised by what Harry talked about. It was more than music or the movie. It was the tv show he was currently obsessed with and how he hated LA’s traffic the most out of all of his dislikes for the city. She couldn’t help but grin at his Los Angeles slander. She loved this side of him.

-

Breakfast together after finishing his tattoo coverage became their regular thing. He would come into the trailer, racing from his morning meeting accompanied with tea for two, they’d get his tattoos covered as quickly as possible, and then they’d eat together.

They’d save their “in-depth” chats for breakfast. In early November, he joked about No Nut November and insisted he really wouldn’t have a problem with it - which had made her laugh. They worried together over the U.S. presidential election and meditated together in his trailer to Fleetwood Mac.

Around late November, Harry had requested that Y/N just do his face makeup as well, just to simplify his life a little more and the department had agreed easily. She had to spend extra time on set getting lectured on how to properly do Harry’s makeup, but after two days she stopped getting notes about it. She was so extremely proud and thankful to Harry for doing that.

All he said was: “I mean, you’re extremely talented so I’m not scared of you fucking up my face. Plus, it does make my life easier. Two birds with one stone.”

In late November, he told her about his favorite holiday drinks at Starbucks and what he was getting his mother for Christmas.

When the Vogue cover came out, he laughed over that woman who responded to his cover saying the world needed to bring back manly men. He joked that he was going to really push that from now on, that he was a manly man, and he would sputter with laughter every time he tried to say it with a straight face.

He hand delivered her a special ‘Treat People With Kindness’ sweatshirt that he only had for the cast and crew of the film. Most everyone got them from a PA, but Harry decided since you saw him first in the morning, why not.

He told her about him winning Hitmaker of the Year from Variety when he had left the award sitting in Trailer 6 and about how weird it was to film acceptance speeches in an empty room. His smile had lit up the entire set that day and the day he did his interview on set. He was so smiley she had to bump him with her elbow because he wouldn’t stop smiling at her and it was unnerving.

“Stop that,” She muttered.

“Stop what?” He smiles wider.

“That!” She squeaked, her head shaking as she ducked it to regard his anchor tattoo. “You’re smiling too much.”

“Oh no,” he says sarcastically, “God forbid I be happy.”

“It’s not that,” she bumps his thigh with her elbow, trying to keep her own smile off her face, “Your face is just so intense when you smile. Feels like you’re gonna burn a hole through me.”

He laughs, completely unconvinced, “You just don’t want me to be happy is what I’m hearing.”

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever, dude.”

She saw he was serious about the ‘manly men’ references when the Variety photos came out and everyone and their mom posted the pictures with some variation of that comment as their caption.

She still found that she rolled her eyes at some of the things Harry did, but she genuinely counted him as a friend by the time December had rolled around.

Over three hours, almost always completely alone, doing work for a job you both care deeply about can really make or break a relationship. And that first full-body coverage day had made them stronger together. After that, Harry and her would banter with one another, but there was never anything intentionally cruel. Just friends giving each other shit sometimes. Harry had been right, he had changed her mind about him. And she had realized that that was who Harry was. He was a deliverer. If you didn’t like him at first, he would try and try again until you did, but he did it in a way that wasn’t weasley or anything. It was terribly genuine and she saw it in every relationship he had on set.

On several occasions she had witnessed his friendship with Nick Kroll. A man she had regarded with dislike before the film. She had quickly realized that dislike was misplaced, but she maintained that it was just because she hated adult cartoons - citing that she literally refused to be friends with any person who willingly watched the Simpsons, Family Guy, and/or American Dad and all of those similar shows.

Nick was far nicer and less weird than she had realized. So she quickly shot her friend from high school an apology text for all the Nick Kroll slander she had spouted back in the day. Her friend had rejoiced but also said how jealous she was that Y/N got to see him regularly on set.

Nick and Harry got along great. Harry generally got along better with older people, she noticed when she was introduced to his friends on the somewhat frequent occasion. Trailer 6 was where Y/N saw most of these reactions take place. She would be introduced in the first minute and then she would smile politely and get back to the work of covering up Harry’s numerous tattoos.

Harry would say something simple and Nick, the literal famous comedian, would laugh. In the beginning she’d raise a brow, confused because it truly wasn’t that funny, but as Harry’s friend now, she kept her mouth shut.

Nick would come and sit on the couch while she’d work and eventually all three of them would chat. Sometimes she would get up to go to the bathroom during those morning chats and she would look in the mirror and think to herself “How are you casually talking to these two men right now” and then she’d think “Because you are a boss ass bitch, you got this” and go back out there with a smile on her face.

“Y/N, what are you doing tonight?” Nick asked on the first Friday morning of December.

She looks up from Harry’s cross tattoo that was half covered. Harry was reading, a book casually propped in his right hand and glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He glanced at the other two in the room. Nick had been getting some work done before he had spoken.

“No plans,” she states simply before getting back to work. It wasn’t full body today, but it was arms and torso, so kind of a lot still.

“You should come over for dinner at my place with Harry,” Nick smiles kindly. His scruff was really coming in today. “To celebrate us almost wrapping the first half of the movie.”

Harry had thankfully freshly shaved before he sat down. It was her least favorite part of her new job. Whenever he came in for touch ups and she had to shave his afternoon shadow. She was terrified she’d cut him and never live it down from her department or Harry. She had no idea which would be worse.

“My wife will be there too, of course,” he adds, hoping to entice her to say yes.

Harry glances between Y/N and Nick again before focusing on his book again.

She purses her lips, finishing Harry’s hand and moving onto the anchor tattoo. “Yeah, I mean, I don’t know why I’d say no. As long as I’m not intruding on the throuple,” she grins up at Harry.

He stares at her with his big green eyes, slightly obscured behind his prescription glasses. He raises his brows and wiggles them a little bit, teasingly.

Nick laughs and slyly winks at Harry through the mirror. Y/N none the wiser as she removes all traces of Harry’s tattoos.

“Great!” He claps his hands and stands up. “We’ll talk or I’ll make sure Harry gets you the info or something. I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. My wife’s been wanting to meet you,” he smiles again and walks out of the trailer.

She tilts her head at the last part. He talked about her to his wife. Did he really count her as that close of a friend? She was just a makeup artist and he was a producer… She glances at Harry and he gives away nothing. His jaw looks extra prominent and she knows it’s because he’s clenching it. He did that when he was focused or angry, remembering it bulging on the first day they met and how clenched it had been then.

“Unclench your jaw,” she mutters, “It’s not good for you.”

Harry hums and unclenches it.

He stretches his neck by rolling his head around his shoulders and she glances at the movement. His skin is still beautifully sun-kissed and his pores look so soft, only his moles change the texture of his skin. She loves his moles though, they make him especially unique in her eyes. Not that he needed anything else to set him apart from the crowd. Still, she loved them. His collarbone is prominent as he sits there shirtless and she wishes she could reach out and brush at it. But she gets back to work, knowing the only time she’s gonna be brushing near that part of him is when she’s covering dates in those dips behind his collarbones.

“Y’know, I could just drive you to Nick’s tonight,” Harry says, putting his book down and taking off his glasses. He rubs at his eye with his free hand.

“You’re blind and British, how do I know you can even drive yourself?” She asks sillily, pointing to his glasses.

He shakes his head, “I’m serious, Y/N. Aren’t you staying in the same area as me?”

He asks because they had relocated to Palm Springs a little while ago and everyone had gotten rentals and it was hard to remember where everyone was holed up when they weren’t on set.

“Yeah, think so. But you don’t need to pick me up. I have a car.”

“Nonsense. I’ve been to his place before, don’t want you to have to deal with directions, that’s just silly.”

“I guess...” she resigns relatively easily. She had never hung out with Harry off the set or Nick for that matter. It felt surreal, but she knew the right answer was usually just say yes in these situations. So that’s what she says. “Yes, that’d be great, thank you,” she confirms and watches as Harry’s eyes glimmer softly before turning back to his book. A triumphant soft smirk rests on his face.

The words die out between the two of them as she works on. He hums along to the music and continues reading his book. When she’s done with his tattoo coverage and his face makeup, she sends him off to hair and the rest of his day. He gives a flirty wink as he walks out the door and she rolls her eyes in response. She tidies up her kit and then goes to do some other makeup work.

When she wasn’t working with Harry, she was assigned to some of the minor characters and doing their makeup. They were always her second concern, especially now that she did Harry’s makeup as well as his tattoos. As she works on them, she can feel her mind drifting to Harry. Harry and how they were friends now. She was pretty sure, right? They were friends. He had never really said a mean thing to her if she really thought about it. It was her… She had been rude and mean-spirited and he had just taken it. He rarely had even thrown it back at her. He was so good to her and patient and she realized that he had proven to her that he was good. He was better than good, he was kind and loving. Considerate. Wonderful. All of those positive superlatives, Harry filled them. And she had the audacity to be mean to him.

She paused the brush that was adding blush to an actresses cheek.

Lisa, the actress, looks at Y/N confusedly, “What’s wrong?”

Y/N twitches her head, refocusing on her task at hand. The realization of her pausing her work becomes clear as she looks between her hand and the cheek that has not enough blush on it. “Oh,” she breathes. “...I just realized that I was terrible to someone who doesn’t have a mean bone in their body.”

Lisa nods, “Apologize.”

“Yeah, I mean...We’ve kind of moved past the phase where we don’t get along. Like now we’re friends, but the realization just really hit me.” She sighs, picking up where she left off on Lisa’s makeup. “I’ll make sure to apologize next time I see them.”

Lisa smiles.

-

At the end of the day, Y/N realizes she left her tattoo coverage kit in Harry’s room after their touch-up session halfway through the day. She had run off to help with a makeup emergency for a tiny cut on a minor character’s face and forgotten to go back and grab her things. Another roll of her eyes and a huff of breath and then she’s walking back to Trailer 6, a place that seemed like a home away from home now. She knocks, patiently waiting at the bottom of the steps.

Harry swings open the door and props it with his hip. He’s got a toothbrush held in his mouth, slowly scrubbing back and forth with his left hand. His costume is somewhat taken off, he’s still got the pants on with suspenders hanging down, his chest was completely bare and he looked funny with some of his tattoos only being half covered based on what parts of his skin had been showing today. Her work. His skin looked half silky smooth and half tattooed like usual.

His naked skin seemingly left her breathless because as her eyes returned to Harry’s face, she breathed a soft, “Hi.”

“Hey,” a smirk twists onto his face. “Forget something?”

“Yes,” she nods, coming back to her senses and entering the trailer at Harry’s gesture.

She begins to pack up the kit that had been left haphazardly strewn around on his counter. “I’m sorry I left a mess like this, I got called over to something else and forgot.”

“Don’t worry darling,” Harry grins at his joke.

She looks up from her work and sees Harry in the reflection of the mirror. He’s wiping off the makeup from his chest and his beautiful tattoos reemerge as entire images.

She laughs humorlessly, “It gets less funny each time you use that.”

“That’s not true,” he looks at her through the mirror now, his green eyes trained on her face, “Everyone else still thinks it’s hilarious.”

“They’re humoring you and your fragile ego,” she winks and watches as Harry’s smirk twitches from his perfect face.

“You’ve got a very mean disposition, you know that?” He asks.

He finishes his chest and moves to remove the makeup from his left arm, glancing at the mirror every so often to check himself and to flicker his eyes over Y/N’s face.

She genuinely laughs at that, but scolds herself internally for being mean when she had planned to apologize the next time she saw Harry. This was the next time so why was she doing this instead?

“Rewrite sweet disposition for me?” Her voice honeyed. Clearly stubborn and terrible at saying sorry...maybe her and Harry were a better match than she realized.

Harry twists his lips as he slips on his t-shirt he was wearing today.

“Pick you up at 6:30?” He says as his head pops out from beneath the rainbow striped sweatshirt he slipped on top of the shirt. His chestnut hair had been toweled out and was flopping over his forehead slightly.

She sighs and zips close the kit, standing from the seat she had taken at his counter and turning to face him now.

“6:30 is perfect. Thanks again for doing this. I just can’t believe Nick Kroll is inviting me over for dinner!” She smiles, shifting to lean against the counter as she waits for Harry to finish up. She didn’t have to but for some reason she felt like she was in no rush.

“Are you serious?” He’s moved on to changing his pants now and he’s slipping on black sweatpants.

“Yeah…” She blinks and her eyes widen as Harry appraises her expression.

He straightens up after fixing a cuff on the pants and he can’t tell if she’s being genuine or sarcastic. It was always so hard to tell with her.

“I mean, Nick Kroll is like a huge celebrity and I know in the entertainment business you’re not supposed to get starstruck but when I was in college my sister thought he was weirdly hot and my friends and I would shit talk him. I don’t know, it’s just kind of surreal to be having dinner at his place. Like I’ve watched him on tv and now I’ll be eating with him...so weird.”

He shakes his head, beginning on his dirty vans now. A small laugh escapes his mouth and he glances between her and his shoe, scratching his head quickly. “I still can’t tell… It feels like you’re fucking with me right now.”

“I’m not!” She insists, her hands coming out in front of her in a confused fashion. “I used to watch that guy’s tv show then he’s my boss now he’s inviting me over for food? It’s a lot to process.”

“How come it’s not surreal to be having dinner with me then?” He asks semi-joking, a hint of offense tinged within it. It’s visible only in his knitted brow and twisted lip.

“Careful there, sailor. Venturing into some dangerously self-absorbed waters.” Her eyes light up, a quick raise of her brows accompany the shine, and she decides now is her time to head out. Especially as she thinks about getting ready for this soiree tonight. She needed to shower and pick out an outfit with less than two hours to prepare.

Harry sputters at her response and fumbles with his pink shoelace. “That’s not...that is - You’re being unfair. My question is valid.”

She shrugs her shoulders and skirts Harry’s attempt at grabbing at her arm to stop her from leaving. “Okay, Mr. Big Man On Campus. I promise you you’re the most popular boy in school.”

She blows him a kiss and walks out the door as he attempts to get her to come back by calling her name a few times and slightly shouting “C’mon! I wasn’t being insecure. That was a reasonable ask…”

He sighs and shakes his head again. Every interaction would end with one of them either rolling their eyes or shaking their head and usually a sigh on both of their lips. It was exhausting, but exhilarating too.

20 minutes later, Harry receives a text from Y/N: “You’re still picking me up right :))) ?”

He’s in his car, getting ready to finally leave after getting held up with last minute schedule changes that he had to be informed about by some PA that he had forgotten the name of. His lip quirks to the right and he closes his eyes for a second enjoying seeing her name on his phone screen for a moment.

He types back: “Of courseeee”.

“Fab.” She sends back, immediately followed by: “Fanks BMOC ;)”

A full smile rolls onto Harry’s face after he swipes his tongue over his lower lip. “Yeah, yeah, save it for the next guy” he types out quickly before throwing his phone gently beside him and driving back to his apartment. She made him feel young, not that he wasn’t young, but generally his friends didn’t text like she did.

-

At 6:28, she receives a text from Harry Styles - his name in her phone. A name she had never expected to see in her phone unless her Spotify was on shuffle. Yet, instead, his name popped up under messages and it read “Here!” followed by a quick “I think” and then a phone call coming through from the apparently anxious man himself.

“Hello Harry.” Her tone even. She throws little items into her purse, making sure everything she needs is there.

“Could you peek out your window? I’m not quite sure I’m at the right place and people are staring…” nerves laced in his rushed tone.

She ambles to the window and opens up the shade she had closed to change. Below her, she sees a sleek black Range Rover with a slightly disarrayed hairdo and big dark glasses peeking below the windshield. She ignored the instinct to retch at the sight of the Range Rover and peered at the lamp lit sight below her. It was definitely Harry, but she searched for the prying eyes he was worried about and saw none. Well, maybe a few, but it wasn’t a lot.

“I see you, I’ll be right out, dude. Just deep breaths, it’s mostly crew staying here right now so they’re just seeing that it’s you, another guy they work with. They won’t come up for pictures...I would hope.”

She hangs up with no farewell, snatches her purse from its place on the bed and races out the door. Harry smiles anxiously at her when she stands next to the passenger’s door and he unlocks it. She bites her lip and raises her brows, waiting to hear if anything terrible happened in the minute and a half it took her to come downstairs and out to the car.

“Hi,” he exhales.

A smirk crawls onto her features and her eyes sparkle with a bit of a childish glee that normally she didn’t exhibit as she glances at him. “Hi.” She says quietly. “Alright big boy?”

“‘M fine.” He huffs but balks at her smile that she maintains while she stares at him. “What?”

“Just happy to see you, I guess,” her smile returns after speaking and Harry glances between her face and the windshield in front of him.

He can’t tell if she’s being serious or not once again. But he fears that conversation of her either ridiculing him for thinking she is serious or being offended that he still can’t tell. Instead, he will keep his mouth shut. For the most part.

“Happy to see you, too,” his lips create a closed mouth smile quickly before turning out of the parking lot.

She watches him. Their first time together outside of work. And they were friends. She needed to get used to simply thinking that. He picked her up to take her to dinner with her other friend and his wife. This was normal life, just with big names behind those terms of relation. Jesus, she always said it didn’t bother her to be around celebrities so why did she think about it so damn much?

She twitches her head and refocuses on Harry and his driving. His jaw is clenched again and she wants to reach out and sooth it herself. Instead she starts to open her mouth to correct him, but stops herself from that as well. They weren’t at work and it didn’t feel like something just a friend would say right now. She refocuses on the view of his eyes that are barely visible while he regards the road. His large eyes that she had grown acquainted to are surveying what he’s doing, every so often drifting to the right side of the road to check out the lane beside him. But then, always back to right in front of him, leaving a crescent of green visible to her.

“Can feel you staring at me…” His voice sounds like it’s rolled around in gravel after the long work day. It makes her wonder if he’s supposed to have a vocal rest when he’s not at work, but then again it’s the weekend now so maybe it was fine. Maybe she should ask him. Or maybe she should stop worrying so much about him.

“Have I got something on my face?” His low register bumps her from her racing thoughts. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but she can see he’s widened his eyes in wonder.

“No! Of course not, I just was...making sure you weren’t going to crash us or something.” She grasps at straws, desperate to not be caught by Harry.

A low chuckle bubbles from his chest and he spares a small glance over at her bundled up in his passenger seat. She matches his gaze with something of distrust hidden behind her eyes. She hopes to convey that she’s being silly and when Harry turns back to look at the road unassumingly, she feels like she has won. The harmonies of the beginning of a Queen song take over the silence, Harry’s spindly fingers thrumming against the wheel.

They arrive at the Kroll’s Palm Springs residence at 6:50. 10 minutes early and the two twiddle their thumbs for a few minutes, trying to pass the time and not intrude earlier than they were supposed to. She appreciated that Harry liked to be timely but not early, similar to how she was.

“So what is the fascination with Range Rovers?” She queries, leaning against the door’s armrest. The back of her head touches against the semi-tinted window.

Harry shifts in his seat, seat belt no longer constricting him and no road requiring his attention as they sit in the driveway. He rushes a hand through his hair and lets a single strand of hair fall over his prominent forehead.

“Dunno,” he shrugs his shoulders and allows a hand to fall onto the steering wheel absentmindedly. “I don’t really prefer them anymore, but when I’m in LA and doing work, it makes things easier. My other cars are a little flashier...have more privacy in this.”

“Yet the effect is similar,” she muses.

Her head tilts to take in Harry’s appearance, sharp black silky button-up and dark green plaid slacks, and she rubs a hand over her jaw. His eyes flicker to the movement and attempt to really take it in, even in the dim glow of the lamp light outside barely peeking into the dark interior of the car.

“Effect?”

“Y’know…” She arches her brow at him. He feigns innocence or possibly the expression is genuine. She’s begun to realize Harry was as genuine as they came, but she just didn’t think he was that unaware. An assumption that was likely correct, but even Harry liked to pretend he was a completely unassuming individual.

“Forget it,” she finishes when he gives no indication that he knows what she is hinting at. She doesn’t want to get into it with him again. Especially when he plays at this game where he has no idea what she’s talking about. It made her feel like she was crazy for thinking he made these calculated decisions to get his desired outcomes.

They move on, neither of them quite sure what the other was getting at in that conversation. The two of them walk into the house a minute before their expected arrival time side by side and are greeted happily with Nick and his wife. They’re ushered in and Y/N is happily received by the happy couple.  

“So, Y/N, how’s it been for you working with these two? I know they can be more than a handful - especially together,” Nick’s wife, Lily, asks after a sip of wine.

The group of four had been eating for a while with Nick and Harry bantering for quite a bit at the beginning about whether or not Harry would be willing to hand feed Nick. The answer was settled at “another time”.  

Harry seems to have a very specific habit of watching whoever is speaking - no matter what. So after Lily has finished speaking, his gaze flickers to Y/N, the person his brain expects to speak next. He watches her attentively as she wipes her mouth on her napkin before speaking.

Her hair was styled differently tonight than it usually was on set, she had it down rather than up in a ponytail or braids. He hadn’t had time to really look at her when they had been in the car, his mind occupied with stress and exhaustion that he refocused into driving and deep breathing. Now, in the comfort of a trusted friend’s home, he was far more relaxed and able to truly take in her appearance, which he couldn’t help but think was beautiful. He’d have to tell her that at some point. That he thought she was beautiful. Not that he didn’t see her on set and think she was beautiful...he just hadn’t really thought about it before. She was his wily makeup artist who was critical of him most times, but occasionally sweet, who had an amazing taste in music and good aesthetic style. The beauty part of it all, he guessed wasn’t something integral to their relationship before.

But now he was sitting beside her at the Kroll’s nice dining table and she had her hair splayed in front and behind her shoulders with one side tucked behind her ear and her outfit fit her impeccably. The top she had on had capped sleeves that cinched with buttons at her delicate wrists and a severe drop to create a small sweetheart neckline just above the curve of her breasts. It was silky and shiny, a blush pink that complemented the high waisted dark grey slacks that flared over shiny black boots that he wasn’t sure where they ended beneath the pants.

“Well,” she starts, chuckling under her breath when she meets Harry’s stare, “Harry and I spend a lot of time together, covering up all his tattoos, and he yaps a lot. So, it’s actually pretty refreshing when Nick comes in, because Harry’s then talking half the normal amount.”

He huffs a scoff, while Lily and Nick laugh happily. Nick interjects an “ouch” for the bite she just took out of Harry, but she thought it was fine, he can take it.

Harry thought to himself that if she can serve it, then she can definitely take it. His eyes remain on her as he opens his mouth to speak, but then look at Lily when words actually come out. “Well, Y/N, she thinks she can read people really well, but it’s actually quite the opposite. She had me completely wrong when we first met, so I talk now in hopes that she’ll really understand me.”

His head tilts to her when he mentions her name, but otherwise doesn’t glance her way away again. He scrunches his nose at the end of his comment, implying he converses with her out of pity.

It’s her turn to scoff and stare at him unamused. Nick and Lily share a look, unsure of what was going on, they had concocted this dinner date idea in hopes to set the two up but the way this conversation was going, they seemed to be pushing each other further and further away from one another.

“That’s simply not true,” she says curtly and takes a sip of her quickly emptying wine glass.

“Which part?”

“Almost all of it, I’d say,” her eyes glaring back at him, fiery with a disdain he hadn’t seen in awhile. “You’re proving my original perception of you with every passing second,” she adds.

“Care to elaborate exactly what the original perception of me was for the class,” his eyes are wide and wild, any extra adoration he had started to feel towards her slipping away just as quickly as it had come, like a wave along the beach.

“You know, so why don’t you?”

“I want to hear you say it,” he grits out the command.

She shifts in her seat, glancing at Nick and Lily who are watching on and she has a feeling she won’t be getting an invitation again anytime soon. Lily gives her a semi-reassuring smile like she was sorry to have asked the question at all, but Y/N knows this is kind of her fault, not that she would ever admit that. Her comment could have been taken innocuously, but Harry’s pride wouldn’t let it slide. Like she said, she should have known better, the weeks of friendship were flying out the window and she was helping them along.

“And what if I don’t?”

“Have fun calling an uber at this time of night,” he shrugs, malice dripping in his tone.

She truly was taken aback at this. A slight sound of shock leaving her mouth. Harry was many things, impatient and anxious usually, but downright cruel with her, she had yet to see it. Arrogant and pompous, definitely, but this wickedness that was starting to creep from the shadows worried her. But the little fiery demon within her wasn’t going anywhere either - yet she might back down to save herself some money and hassle.

“Fine,” she raises her brows in a challenge to him and restates her original take on him - possibly adding a bit extra malice in her phrasing, “You are a shell of a man, held up by the people around you, creating the illusion of a completely genuine and down to earth rocker who dabbles in acting, philanthropy and all around goodness. No one’s ever had a bad experience because no one’s ever truly met you. Not the real you.” She takes a deep breath as she shakes her head in disbelief now, a sarcastic laugh leaving her mouth, “And I thought, I really thought, that I had been wrong. Because these past months you really fooled me with your sweet smile and deep eyes. But when it comes down to it, you tricked me just like everyone else.”

Harry stares at her blankly and she shakes her head once more, feeling foolish. For thinking Harry was someone he wasn’t. For thinking the past few months had been real. For thinking that tonight would go off without a hitch. And the shit part of it was that she had really hoped that all of it was true. She wanted this to be her life, but her instincts had been right. Beware of the picture perfect because it always is just a mirage of deceit and lies.

“All I’ve got to say is you’re a damn good actor Harry, so at least you’ve got that going for you.” Then she pushes back from the table and stands, turning to Nick and Lily. “I really am so sorry, I understand that you probably want me to leave, so I’ll just be going,” her voice faltering at the end, she wasn’t as strong as she liked to pretend and she was pretty sure she just ruined her chances of working again in Hollywood. You’d have to be an idiot to be an enemy of Harry Styles and she feels like she just became his first.

“No!” Nick says quickly, standing too, “I think things just escalated really quickly and some things were said that both of you didn’t mean. Um...just, let’s take a few minutes to cool off. Harry could you and Lily deal with the dishes and I’m going to talk with Y/N alone.”

Everyone nods and Y/N follows Nick down a hallway, a little confused but following after he beckons her with his hand. They go out a side door and end up on a porch in the backyard. He stoops down and opens a little sitting mailbox she didn’t see and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He places one between his teeth and then offers one to her. She accepts, not usually a regular smoker, but right now seemed like a fair time to indulge in the bad habit. She needed to calm her rapidly beating heart.

He lights the cigarette for her when he sees her shaking hands and then in turn lights his own. They stand on the porch beside each other and stare out into the dark night sky.

“Well, this wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go,” Nick starts, after a few exhales of smoke.

“No,” she laughs nervously, her foot toeing at the wooden slate on the porch. “I shouldn’t have tried to make a joke.”

“No one’s to blame,” Nick says quickly, glancing at her, “You and Harry...you both have really strong personalities and I don’t think either of you are used to being challenged.”

She nods along, she definitely had to agree after the argument they had both willingly gotten into in front of other people.

“I think that can be a really good thing, challenging each other, because then you two can both grow. But what happened in there was more of a battle to the death rather than a friendly spar.”

“Yeah,” she exhales, flicking at the burning cigarette between her fingers, “I don’t know why he gets under my skin sometimes in a way I’ve never dealt with and it’s kind of uncomfortable so I lash out, I guess.”

Nick stays quiet, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Ugh,” she groans, “I wish I hadn’t done that. We were doing so well, it’s like I don’t even really know what I’m saying, it’s like I can’t handle a friendly spar, I always end up going in for the kill - as you put it.”

She rubs at her face with her free hand and then takes a drag herself. Nick bites at his lower lip, trying to think of a solution.

“Y’know? Lily and I had concocted this plan to try and set you and Harry up tonight,” he says slowly, revealing the plan that had clearly been taken off the table as they just needed to attempt to salvage cordiality.

“Really?!” She’s in complete disbelief and slight dismay that the plan was seemingly ruined.

“Well,” he sputters, “When the two of you aren’t throwing verbal fireballs at each other, you’re actually quite sweet to one another. Those fond little glances you hope no one sees, well he does that too, and you both fail miserably because I see it all the time. I’m sure plenty of people do too.”

“Oh,” she states, visibly deflating. She looks to the ashtray conveniently on a table behind her and presses out the rest of the cigarette. “Should probably talk to him, huh?”

Nick nods, stamping out his nub of a cigarette as well. They go back inside and into the kitchen where Lily and Harry have plated dessert. Harry looks a little sheepish, likely having a similar conversation with Lily and she wouldn’t be surprised if her expression looks similar, if not a bit more flushed from the outdoor chill.

Lily murmurs that she and Nick are going to eat their dessert in the living room, a fair bit away from the kitchen and the two now deflated counterparts nod and then stare at each other, knowing what they need to do.

“Can we talk?” Harry rasps out, his voice even lower as he speaks softly, a mere foot away from her in the kitchen.

She nods, but moves further from him to lean against the counter and tuck her hands behind her. She’s lost her appetite and doesn’t want Harry to see her shaking digits.

He’s ducked his head and a stray curl falls over his forehead, laying there softly. He doesn’t move to fix it, just stares at his feet until she begins to talk. He can’t not look at her face when she speaks.

“So…” She slowly starts, not enjoying the tension in the room. Her eyes can’t meet his though, his stare dark and unnerving like usual, but almost painfully so now. “I can start.” She kicks at the tiling on the floor like she had done outside as well, trying to not think about the eyes trained on her right now. “I’m sorry I lashed out on you, Harry. I didn’t mean what I said, it was just a heat of the moment response.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Harry says immediately once she finishes speaking, “I shouldn’t have gotten upset over a silly joke and brought up a sensitive subject. Then it escalated…”

“Yeah, I really liked the friendship we’ve garnered these past few months and I just can’t believe I almost ruined everything - including my career…” she squeaks at the end and tears start to roll from her eyes. “Oh god,” she is hit with the gravity of all that she almost ruined as Harry stares at her again. “I’m so sorry, Harry, I really am. Do you forgive me? I don’t think I could stand it if you didn’t.”

She stands there and feels sobs wrack through her and her hands go to cover her face out of embarrassment. She had caused a scene and now she was making another one. In front of Harry.

In an instant his arms are wrapped around her frame and he’s hushing her cries. They had never hugged before, but now seemed like as good a time as ever. His arms were strong around her and she pressed her face into his chest, not caring at all about how she looked or whether this was worse than getting in a fight and running off.

“Of course I forgive you,” he says and then begins repeating her name over and over, trying to soothe her. He definitely had been hurt by her words, but it seemed like she was more upset about the whole situation than he was and he didn’t think bringing up what specifically had hurt him would help her frame of mind.

She settles after some time, her whimpers and tears subsiding after being rocked into a more peaceful mindset with the help of Harry’s calming voice and reassuring embrace.

“I really am sorry,” she whispers again.

Harry pulls his neck back and his head off the top of her head to look at her face. It was tear stained and her eyes were glassy, lips slightly puffy. He gave her a soft tight-lipped smile. “No more apologies,” he states sternly and then softens again at the slight quiver in her lip. He pulls from her a little more, leaving her at arm's length, with his hands still attached to her hips, fingers slipping over the plaid fabric. “I meant to tell you this earlier, before things…” he stares at her face again and she holds it this time, “You look beautiful tonight.”

She scoffs and her eyes immediately drop to her feet, “Definitely not anymore.” She doesn’t believe Harry.

“‘M serious,” he insists. His right index finger goes to rest beneath her chin and brings her face up to look back at him.

“Sure,” she says, still not convinced but not sure how else to respond. She feels herself warming at all the positive attention he’s pouring into her.

His gaze won’t falter from her face, he’s intent upon making her understand him. He whispers her name, “Accept the compliment.”

“You’re stubborn,” she notes.

“So are you,” he counters quickly.  

“Fine, thank you,” she sighs when he won’t stop giving her that look of his. That look that makes her want to melt into the ground because it feels like she’s the only person in the world. “Though you looked especially good tonight, too,” she adds, her hands rubbing over his shoulders softly.

“Thank you,” Harry states lowly, the words only traveling to her ears. His hands fiddle with the sides of her top, thinking about the night and where they were now. Her eyes were red from crying and overall she looked tired beyond her years. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“That’d be nice.”

They make a quiet farewell to Nick and Lily, as well as apologies from both her and Harry. They don’t speak in the car and the music plays loud enough for it to not seem unreasonable for them to be silent. Harry’s hands don’t tap against the steering wheel, they sit in their spots stoically doing their job and nothing more. She watches the window, legs crossed and hands clasped in her lap. She’s thankful for the music because she knows that even though they had talked, it wasn’t enough. What she had said was hurtful and one apology wasn’t enough for how she had behaved. She didn’t think her and Harry would be the same after tonight, but the silence made it possible for her to pretend none of it had happened.

Just as Harry’s car is pulling up the apartment complex that is far darker now, the harsh splatter of rain begins to fall on the pavement and the sleek black car the two are still sat in.

“Oh,” she comments offhandedly, just responding to what she had noticed.

The rain grows louder when Harry parks and then turns off the car. He glances at her for the first time since they got into the car. She registers the look out of the corner of her eye, her face still looking out at the rain. She loved the rain, but there wasn’t always a lot in Southern California, especially not in Palm Springs. It seemed that tonight was different.

“Well,” Harry breaks his silence, she thinks that’s her cue to leave and unbuckles her seatbelt, but he continues. “This certainly wasn’t how I expected this night to go.”

She stops moving, her hand hovering over the handle of the door. She sits back and settles into the seat, feeling her teeth bite into the plush of her bottom lip.

“That’s what people keep saying,” her eyes remain on the rain hitting the front of the car, the splatters of seemingly black liquid that form when the clear rain touches the onyx hood of the car.

“Huh?” Harry grows perplexed at the rather wistful tone of her and how she won’t look at him again. He was still hurt, but he had hoped them talking in the kitchen had straightened some things out. During the car ride he hadn’t wanted to talk, but it didn’t mean he was still angry with her. Just confused, and growing further confused by the second.

“Oh,” she repeats, “Didn’t Lily say? Her and Nick concocted that dinner in hopes to set us up.”

Harry hums, knowing that because Nick had left out a little part of that plan. That he had been a part of it. He had been talking with Nick about getting to know her better outside of work and how Nick had thought it’d be a good idea to have dinner so he had told Lily and they set it up like a casual dinner party. Harry didn’t know how to respond because her knowing that he was in on the plan might just make matters worse. He really didn’t think things could get much worse, but it seemed that they always managed to make it happen so in the end he decided to keep his mouth shut.

“I don’t know if we’d ever be able to work out differences out for that,” she decides to continue, when Harry stays quiet. She scans the interior of the car and watches Harry for the briefest moment before going back to looking out the window. “Nick said that we challenge each other to grow, but all I see us do is hurt each other.”

Her voice is just above the rain pattering outside the car and Harry thinks it sounds almost melodic if it weren’t for the sadness laced in every word.

“I disagree,” he states before wetting his lips.

“Of course you do,” she laughs in spite of herself.

“Even after all these months together and you still don’t get it. I like you.”

“You don’t like me, I don’t know how you could ever like me,” she shakes her head. “We just...we get under each other’s skin. You can make me so angry sometimes and I know I make you angry too. And when we’re not angry, we’re focussed on something that doesn’t have to do with ourselves.”

“I don’t think what you feel for me is anger,” Harry insists, “Just because something feels burning and fiery, frustrating even, doesn’t mean it’s anger.”

His body shifts closer to the center divide and she turns to face him finally. His eyes are extra dark in this lighting, which is barely there from a streetlamp a ways off. She longs for the comfort of his light green eyes, the soft pale glow of the moss that seems to have been trapped within his iris. Maybe for that reason she unknowingly leans closer to him.

“Then what is it?” She whispers, eyes blinking slowly as her breathing grows strained.

“Passion.”

Immediately, her head is tilting to meet his lips. Her mind knows one thing, she needs to be kissing Harry right now. And then she is. His left hand goes to cup her cheek as his lips attach themselves to hers. His soft lips press to hers in a long searing kiss. They stay there for a moment, pressing all of that passion and frustration into the kiss.

She presses impatiently forward, her lips starting to move more, wanting to kiss him deeper. Harry obliges, parting his lips and kissing her more vigorously. He licks into her open mouth and smiles at the sound she makes in appreciation for his actions.

She’s shifted to have herself kneeling on the leather seat and she’s leaning over the console. One of her hands finds purchase on Harry’s thigh and grasps tightly, her other at the back of his neck, pressing him closer if it were possible.

His chest is pressing against hers as he pulls her closer. He kisses her and his fingertips rub softly at the apple of her cheek. Eventually they run behind the shell of her ear and trail down her neck.

Eventually, she pulls away and stares at Harry. She watches as his eyes flutter open gently. His soft eyelashes dust his cheeks before moving away, allowing his eyes to peer at her in the dark.

Her breathing feels a little irregular after the kissing and she’s sure she is heaving her chest slightly, likely mirroring Harry’s chest as well.

“So, where to now?” She inquires, lips quirked up at her suggestion.

Harry giggles and scratches his nose against his index finger.

-

Harry doesn’t stay the night, he walks her up to her apartment door though. He kisses her chastley in front of her door and wraps an arm around her waist as he does so. He bids her a goodnight and a promise of seeing her soon.

They don’t see each other for a month. Both of them had been so blissful after the endorphins of kissing their person that they had forgotten that filming had wrapped. They weren’t set to work for a month. Harry texted her the next morning informing her that he’d be in England until filming resumed. She was still going to be in California, filming was moving back to Los Angeles, so she’d be back in her place there. Her family knew she was working, so they had sent her presents ahead to her place instead. Angie, her only true friend in the area, was spending her time with her actual family and Y/N didn’t want to intrude.

So the holidays were going to be spent alone. Those four weeks alone passed surprisingly quickly. She practiced techniques on herself, bought a tiny Christmas tree like the one in A Charlie Brown Christmas, watched A Charlie Brown Christmas and just about every other holiday movie possible. She fell in love with young Hugh Grant and Colin Firth for the thousandth time. She sang carols to herself and decorated her place with decorations from Target. She jammed out to the new Miley Cyrus album and held dance parties for herself in the house. She baked cookies and even attempted a trifle after watching a Great British Bake Off episode. She did and she did all in hopes that her mind wouldn’t wander to the guy who hadn’t called.

Harry texted occasionally, but it was infrequent at best. He was a busy person, she knew that. She knew who he was. And she didn’t want her mind to have enough time to feel sorry for herself. For her to think that she was just somebody to pass the time with while at work, because if she stopped doing things that’s where her mind would wander. Why did her mind spiral like it did? She had no idea, she’d always been like that.

His absence, their separation, made her question if her own feelings were even true. She wondered if when she saw him he would act as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t said their relationship was passionate and she had kissed him until she couldn’t breath.

Too much time alone, she needed some fresh air. On January 2nd, after an uneventful night at home and a lackluster countdown washed down with cheap champagne, she decided to go and walk around near her place. There was a coffee shop that wasn’t extremely expensive that she also liked that she figured she would get coffee from. After a brisk walk, she walked through the store's doors and ordered an iced green tea. As she waited, she watched the other customers around her, wishing to see a friendly face, someone she knew. And seconds later, she was met with half of that wish. Someone she knew, not necessarily a friendly face.

“Autumn.” She states with a grimace when someone taps her on the shoulder and she spins around.

“Y/N? It is you!” Autumn, one of the PA’s from Don’t Worry Darling who was especially in Harry’s business, exclaims overly happy as per usual.

Y/N bites the inside of her cheek and gives a tight lipped smile, trying her best to be cordial.

“How’s your holiday been!” Autumn asks.

“Great. You?”

“So great!” She’s quick to lean closer and say in a hushed tone, “But I miss working on set, especially getting to see that Harry everyday. He’s just so gorgeous.”

A breath gets stuck in Y/N’s chest at the mention of Harry’s name. Her brows can’t help but raise a bit at Autumn’s comment. Even lowering her voice didn’t make it feel alright to talk about Harry like this. He was her friend after all.

“Sure.” Y/N nods abruptly, realizing Autumn wants some recognition of what she’s just said. Y/N’s eyes glance around the room, hoping for an out like her drink is ready or something - no such luck.

“I mean,” Autumn keeps talking, of course, “You’re so lucky. You get to see him shirtless, like what? Everyday practically? Don’t tell me you don’t miss that just a little bit!”

“I miss working,” Y/N says, avoiding what Autumn is trying to get her to say. “And Harry’s my friend, could you maybe not talk about him like that with me?”

Autumn’s eyes widened in shock, her lips parted dumbfounded by her co-worker's response. Y/N’s name is called for her drink and she’s thankful for the serendipitous nature of that sound getting her out of the awkward situation she had just been in.

When she gets back to her apartment, she surprisingly has a text from Harry himself. She’s always telling everyone; speak of the devil and he will appear, in one way or another. It’s a Happy New Year well wish followed by a separate text asking how she was.

It was sent a minute ago so she decides to try and give him a call. She preferred talking on the phone over texting.

It rings a few times and then, again surprisingly, he picks up.  

“‘Lo?” His voice is nice and deep and sounding extra British after his weeks surrounded by family and such.

“Harry,” she sighs contentedly.

“Happy to hear your voice,” he says her name and she can tell he’s smiling just like she is, from ear to ear.

She bites at her lip, hearing him say her name.

“I’m well, thanks,” she says after a moment of happy silence.

“What?” Harry laughs, confused.

“You texted asking me how I was and I called to respond.”

“Got it,” Harry chuckles, and she hears him shuffling around, likely sitting down on something.

“How are you?” She continues.

“Good, starting to wind down for the day,” he lists off the things he’s been doing over the past few days. Some of it work related, some of it family activities. All of it fun, he insists. “What did you do today?” He finishes, knowing she was an avid activity doer based off of the snaps she had sent him over the past few weeks.

“Tidied my place, went to the coffee shop and got iced tea…” she tries to think and then she gasps, “Oh! And I saw Autumn, one of the Don’t Worry Darling PA’s -”

“The one who’s obsessed with me?”

“Exactly!” She laughs, “And I may have kind of told her off… accidentally.”

“Accidentally told her off?” Harry repeats, incredulous. “How’d you do that?”

“Well,” she doesn’t want to tell him the rest, but there’s also a tiny part of her that really does, “She was gushing about you, which, ew. And then she asked if I missed seeing you shirtless everyday.”

“Well do you miss seeing me shirtless?” Harry smirks.

“Oh shut up!” She’s quick to reply.

“So you do?”

“If I really wanted to see you shirtless, all I’d have to do is type in “Harry Styles sh” and it would come up,” she rolls her eyes even though she knows he can’t see them. “Wouldn’t even need the whole word. Guaranteed.”

“Uh-huh?” Harry questions still, “If you want me to send you shirtless pictures that the rest of the world hasn’t seen, Y/N, all you have to do is ask.”

“I do not want you to send me shirtless pictures of yourself!” She exclaims. She feels like jumping out of a window right now. This conversation had escalated so quickly and she felt herself flushing, maybe even perspiring a little bit. And she also knew that she also would probably like it if he sent her shirtless pictures, which made this whole thing worse.

“Offer stands,” he says, smug as he normally was, happy he got to banter with her again. It had been dull without her, if he was honest with himself. “If you ever find yourself in need, just send a cheeky text and I’ll whip one out for you, no matter where I am or what I’m doing.”

“See this sounds like you’re saying something sincere, but really you’re just telling me you’ll send me nudes at any time.”

“No one said anything about nudes!”

“Shirtless, nude, sounds like you’re getting too caught up in the details, hon.”

“No!” He protests, “You’re the one who’s supposed to be flustered right now, not me!”

“Aww, you’re flustered,” She coos.

Harry groans. “Whatever. I’ll be back on the 8th, be ready to go out on the 9th. I’m taking you on a proper date.”

“How do you know I’m going to say yes?” She bite her lip again, she’s really sweating now. She couldn’t believe he had just asked her out on a date out of nowhere. Out of them just joking about nudes. Maybe she didn’t know Harry as well as she thought.

“Because you called me,” he says confidently.

“I call everyone.”

“But I don’t offer shirtless pictures to everyone.”

“That has nothing to do with me saying yes to this date.”

“Or does it?”

She laughs at his words, at how his voice still manages to convey every facial expression and quirk of his lips. She knows there’s a smile on his lips as he stares in the distance, imagining her face just as she is his.

“Yes.” She smiles.

“Yes!” He repeats happily.

She hears him stand up and spin around possibly and she chuckles slightly, amused at the silly man across the world who had seemed to have stolen her heart.

“See you soon, Harry.”

“Not soon enough.”

-

On the Saturday of their date, Harry insists on picking her up. He meets her at her door and winks at her after pulling away from their short hug. He laces his hand in hers and she follows behind him as he all but drags her to his car that is downstairs. He seems giddy. His hair has grown out in the month he’s been gone and she knows they’ll cut it when filming resumes. He’s wearing Gucci flared blue jeans - she knows from the big logo on the bottom left pant leg - a ‘Waiting for Sunset’ graphic tee beneath a black cardigan with little animals and items knitted in it. And of course, his dirty ass vans. She had hoped that maybe Christmas would bring him a fresh pair from someone, but it seemed there was no such luck.

Either way, he looked good and upon scanning his outfit, she was pleased that she had dressed correctly for the occasion, knowing one of the sins of Los Angeles was being improperly dressed wherever you might go. Harry had said casual, but casual can always mean so many different things. She got it right with light wash high-waisted levi’s, a brown cream rib-knit long sleeve that buttoned like it could be a cardigan, and some fun chunky boots that added some height to her normal stature. She had contemplated between this and possibly twenty other tops and a few other bottoms. Landing on this felt right, plus it didn’t clash with Harry, the color of her shoes actually matched the color of the snake on the cardigan.

They both compliment each other on the way out to his car and she giggles when he stops and twirls her around. He says he didn’t get a “proper look” before for him to compliment her adequately. After the twirl, he nods and starts them off again, complimenting the specific pieces of her clothes and says she looks beautiful again. His giddiness was contagious.

“No Range tonight,” she muses when Harry stops them in front of a Mercedes-Benz cream convertible, top up.

“Not working,” he replies, unlocking the car with the key into the passenger’s side door handle.

She smiles and slides into the car and watches him jog around to his side and unlock it as well.

“Tonight is going to be fantastic,” he says, leaning over the console and kissing her cheek, just beside her lips.

And when he pulls away with that smug smile of his, she knows he kissed her there on purpose. But the little tease only makes her smile more. He was good at this. And he was right.

The night was fantastic. As was every night after. And she learned that Harry was so much more than anything she ever thought. She counted herself lucky to be loved by a man like him.

[ozarkthedog]

Tethered / C. Evans x Fem!Reader

summary: After two months apart, Chris is finally home and he’s wearing that belt.

warnings: SMUT. 18+ only. rough oral sex. rough sex. asphyxiation. restraining with a belt. fingering. slight breeding kink. spanking. dirty talk. over stimulation. female ejaculation. basically, pwp.

word count: 2,369

author’s note: honestly, this was supposed to be a smutty little fic about his infamous red belt, but then it turned into so much more. also, for having not written anything in 2 weeks, I’d say I did ok with this.  *credit goes to gif owner.

📖 Master List

Reblogs and Likes are amazing! Feedback and comments are encouraged!

Lips were locked and bodies a tangled mess as you crossed the threshold with an “-oof.” Chris barely shutting the front door behind him with a callous foot.

The foyer was dark, dimly lit from the Kitchen light as it left just enough glow to illuminate your silhouettes. Chris pushed you against the closed front door, not caring about your pained whines when he slotted his body over yours.

Finally, you were alone after so much time spent apart.

“Missed you so much.” Chris admitted between rushed kisses, “Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. About this body.” His hand dove into your leggings and found your panties drenched. “About this sweet pussy.”

He leaned his forehead against yours watching as your face twisted in pleasure as he ground his palm against your tiny nub, “Can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me. Gonna split you open all over again, just like the first time.”

It’d been 2 months since you’d last seen one another and the tension was palpable. The car ride home from the airport via a car service was full of longing stares, playful touches and sneaky kisses as you sat in the back seat like anxious teenagers, desperate to get your hands on one another.

Your eyes slammed shut at his statement, knowing that despite the times you fucked yourself with the few dildos you owned while he was away, nothing compared to Chris.

He was right. It’d be just like your first time together.

He dragged you from your thoughts when he pushed two fingers into your sopping heat, tearing a broken gasp from your lips. His auburn beard scratched your cheek as he peppered kisses down your jaw. Your silky walls welcomed his digits, fluttering and constricting at the intrusion.

“Damn. Forgot how tight you can get, Darlin’.” His lips fit over your open ones as you let out a tiny moan when he scissored his fingers, spreading you open. The kiss was vicious, his tongue diving over yours with long, playful swipes. Your core clenching so hard his fingers faltered.

“That’s my Girl. Come on, lemme feel you cum. Give it to me.” He grunted, while thrusting his clothed covered hard on against your hip.

His command pushed you over the edge and you came with an abrupt shout, easily hitting your peak via another person after so long. Your body shook in his grasp as he eased away the aftershocks with soft, tender kisses.

You stared at him, relishing the way his eyes were blown wide having just seen you come apart so quickly under his touch. It took your breath away to be back in his hold again. To have him home.

His lips twisted into that dorky smile as you sunk down to your knees wanting to return the favor before he split you in two. 

“This belt. This fucking belt.” You laughed, slipping the thick red material through the shiny double loops. He wore this belt all the damn time. It simultaneously drove you mad and caused your pussy to combust. Of all the belts he could wear, he always chose this bright red one and you loved it.

Chris stared down at you in a stupor. “What’s the problem?”

You quirked your head, “Something about this belt drives me wild.”

Chris smirks at your admission but then his jaw falls when your fingers find their way inside his jeans and circle his length. His hips involuntarily jolting in your grasp.

“Fuck, it’s been so fuckin’ long.” He groaned as you pull his rigid cock from the confines of his jeans and playfully lick at his swollen crown.

He stared in fascination as you licked from base to tip before circling the bulbous head with your lips. His cock was heavy on your tongue as you swallowed him down and jerked the base with tight tugs. You rolled his balls in your left palm, clamping your thighs together to ease the ache whenever he let out a lewd groan.

You bobbed your head skillfully over his length eventually feeling his cock swell. You flicked his perineum friskily before pulling away, leaving him painfully on edge.

A deep growl resonated through his chest, “You’re playing a dangerous game, Sweetheart.”

“Then why don’t you punish me?” Your tongue poked out the side of your mouth, hoping he’d take the bait and fuck you on the floor.

He surprised you by shaking his head and dragging that god forsaken belt from his jeans before wrapping each end around his fists. “I’ll get to that sweet cunt in a minute. But right now, I want your mouth back on my cock.”

One moment you were sitting on your heels gloating and the next Chris had looped the belt around the back of your neck pulling you flush against his lower abs.

“Gonna punish that wicked mouth before I open up your cunt.”

His cock bounced in your peripheral as he held you close before easing up enough on the belt for his girth to find your lips once more. He gave you no time to adjust as he pushed his length between your lips causing you to sputter.

His hold on the belt barely gave you any freedom, only allowing you to pull off until your lips brushed his reddened tip. He let you suck on the crown momentarily until he forced his way back into your mouth when he tugged on the ends of the belt.

Your hands sought out his hips as he drove his thickness in and out nudging your tonsils with every pass. His grunts of satisfaction had your core quivering and the way his cock swelled whenever it hit the back of your throat had your eyes rolling with arousal.

“Missed bein’ on your knees for me, huh, Pretty Girl?” His mouth hung open as your debauched groans vibrated his cock in reply. “Missed havin’ my cock stretch out your holes?”

Your belly twisted at his words and then heaved when he pulled on the belt making you take every inch of his length. The breath in your lungs burned and the belt around the back of your neck dug into your skin as he watched from above at your pitiful struggles.

His brows pitched together when he felt your throat convulse, “Lookit’ you droolin’ all over my cock like a good little cock slut.”

You scratched at his jeans desperate to breathe, lungs sizzling aflame and just as your face started to tingle, he pulled free from your mouth letting you fall onto all fours.

You coughed out the stale breath from your lungs while Chris dropped to his knees behind you. He ran his hands over the curve of your ass before shoving the waist band of the leggings and your panties down your thighs effectively trapping your legs together.

-SMACK-

Your head shot up with a shriek when Chris landed the belt onto your exposed skin before grabbing a handful of your behind. “Love this ass. Love watching it jiggle as I fuck you.”

Teeth nipped at your flesh causing you to call out his name in the dim foyer and push back onto his face with a soft whimper. His fingers found your core once again, tracing your slit from end to end before spitting onto your puffy mound.

Your arms buckled and your upper body fell onto the carpet with a whine as Chris spread apart your inner lips, “What a sight for sore eyes.”

He pushed two fingers through your glistening lips, curling his digits just right to make you see stars. Your body yearned as it instinctively pushed back, softly chanting, “More.”

“You think you can take my cock? Think it’ll fit in this tight cunt?”

You whimpered when he smacked his pulsating girth against your soaked core after removing his fingers, teasing your quivering opening with his throbbing cock head. “It’s going to hurt, Baby...”

You shook your head, not caring about the repercussions. You needed his cock, now.

He slowly pushed into your warmth as the foyer filled with debauched moans and low growls. Every inch felt like it lasted forever before he bottomed out, punching the breath from your lungs when he bumped your cervix with his massive cock. He stretched you so wide it felt like you’d split in two if he wasn’t careful.

He caressed the junction of your neck with tender kisses as he leaned over you, “So good to finally be buried deep inside you.”

He kept his hips still letting you relax around his girth until he felt you shift. The growing need to get fucked was consuming your body to the point of vibration once your core got used to the thickness. You wanted him to take you hard. Fuck you into the floor and make your voice hoarse.

He chuckled in your ear at your pitiful attempts of moving under him. He breathed in your scent, the one he missed waking up to every morning while he was away. He withdrew his cock slowly before slamming back into your heat with a heavy punch that made your body shove forward with a wrecked moan.

“Need it so bad, don’t you Darlin’.” He repeated his actions, making your cheek burn on the carpet as he fucked into you so powerfully your world spun. His grip was tight on your hips as he thrusted into your swollen core, leaving crescent moons in your flesh.

“I’ll take care of you. Make sure your cunt is molded back into the shape of my cock.”

His hips never faltered. The steady pace made your body surge with every drive. He reverted to curling his hands around your shoulders making you take every inch he was giving.

Still, you needed more.

You tried to buck your hips, not knowing why you were doing it but your body just needed something. Your hands slammed into the floor and you screamed out in confused agony. Your core was tight and ready to explode but you just couldn’t get there.

Chris stilled his hips watching your turmoil before reaching for the fallen belt next to him.

“Shhh. I’ve got what you need, Darlin’.” He whispered into the dim room while grabbing the base of your neck and hauling you onto your hands.

Your head hung forward despairingly, on the verge of tears when suddenly you felt the rough belt at the front of your neck. Chris grasped both sides again, pulling steadily until you were on the tips of your fingers. Your heart leapt into your throat feeling your neck compress at the odd angle but your belly strained immensely.

Anxious gasps echoed off the walls when his hips began to move. Picking up pace with every drive, sliding over your soaked walls and pressing against your cervix with fury and determination.

Chris tugged on the belt, using the momentum to fuck your body back onto his cock, grinning madly at your raspy, choked moans and the way your walls convulsed. Slick dripped down your tied-up thighs soaking your leggings as he molded your cunt around him.

“Like me fuckin’ into this cunt like I own it?” He grunted, snapping his hips quickly feeling your walls obscenely tighten signaling your oncoming peak. “Gonna fill this pretty cunt. Make you swell with my load.”

Your body bowed; the tension unbearable. Your neck pushed against the unforgiving belt until you exploded into a million pieces when your peak slammed through you. You squirted your release with a hoarse shout, soaking your thighs along with Chris’s as he rode out your orgasm.

Chris groaned sinfully as he felt your cum drip from his sack and smack against your ass with every pummel of his cock. He pulled on the belt savagely until you were slotted against his chest. Chris wrapped his right arm around your waist possessively as your knees buckled, threatening to give out.

His left hand held both ends of the belt keeping your head locked against his shoulder. His voice gruff in your ear as he pounded into you with a controlling force.

“Such a dirty girl takin’ my cock on the floor… like a good breedin’ bitch.” He licked up the side of your face making you whine. The over stimulation had your body thrashing as he kept an even pace, pushing through your folds with a punishing pace.

His left hand tightened the slack on the belt cutting off your sobs instantly. He withheld your oxygen for a few seconds, relishing the way your body locked up around him. Your mouth bobbed open like a fish, desperate for air the entire time.

He eased the tension with a teasing chuckle, “Something about watching you struggle makes my cock so hard.”

He cut your air off again, spearing into your swirling warmth while your hands scratched at the arm wrapped around your waist frantically. The pressure in your belly boiled. You were going to cum and there was nothing you could do about it.

“Lemme feel that cunt soak my cock one more time, Darlin’.” He urged, nipping at your jaw.

His hips stuttered for the first time, getting closer and closer to the edge with every drive. He wasn’t going to last much longer but he wasn’t going to cum without you.

Your mind started slipping from the lack of oxygen and the constant over stimulation. Your body was tired and beaten, but still the pressure in your belly was intent on snapping.

“Gimme that cunt. Cum all over me.” He demanded with a harsh slap to your mound and released the slack on the belt. His fingers slapped against your tiny nub over and over until your body lit up and you shook heavily in his arms, cumming with a silent scream that finished with a feral growl.

Chris grunted in your ear as you milked his girth forcefully. His cock swelled and flooded his spend into your awaiting heat where it welcomed everything he had to give.

Chris slipped from your body and lowered the two of you to the ground panting the final tremors of the ravenous act. Your eyes felt heavy and your body screamed, but you lifted your head to plant a soft kiss on his lips as he leaned over your spent body.

“It’s good to have you home.” You whispered, against his lips as he pulled them into a smile. 

“It’s good to be home.”