#this is so shitty to treat your clients like that

[therabbitthatpostthings]

My knowledge of Vtubers starts and stops with Kizuna Ai. The only reason I know of most big VTubers is because I genuinely am fascinated in the way model rigging works and because two singers I followed YEARS ago are now Vtubers (AmaLee and Bao The Whale)

With that being said, watching Nijisanji make the biggest PR mistake of their life over the past week has been the funniest shit ever. Like GODDAMN. I have learned more about the financial instability of this one company in three days than I ever have since the dawn of Vtubers. I have never been interested Vtubers before (aside from the two mentioned above cause I watched them when I was like 14), this situation alone has made me want to consume so much VTuber material.

Anyway good luck and great wishes on Doki's come back to the internet.

[tojisbbygworl]

The Apartment Across The Street - Sukuna x Reader

In the short time he watches her, he learns 3 new things: 1. She has a mirror on the left side of the window. 2. She is completely unaware of how easily someone could see her in all her half-naked glory. 3. Sukuna could overpower her if it came down to it.

Or maybe it’s 4 things. From the beating of his heart and the warm rushing feeling heading towards his dick, he learns the drug he thought he needed might not be a drug at all.

Words: 6.7k

Tags - 18+ MDNI, No Use of Y/N, No Curses, Set in late 90s/early 00s, Smut, Angst, High Sex, Missionary, Degredation, Marijuana, Slight x Toji (I can't help myself)

WARNINGS - Dead Dove, Dark, Non-Con/Dub-con, Breaking and Entering, Sukuna and Toji are criminals, Sukuna's a hitman, Choking, Violence

AO3 Version

Masterlist

author's note: Heyyyy! Okay I went a little too hard like I always do so this is a bit long and (imo) it get's a little intense so be warned. I hope you enjoy hopefully I have some motivation to keep writing. art cred: @innaillus

That apartment used to be empty.

Sukuna hadn’t been home in a week. He doesn’t mind. He’s learned to not have too many hopes or expectations in this line of work. Besides, he prefers being his own boss. He accepts contracts when he needs money then he’s off until it runs out. Doesn’t matter if they take days or even weeks.

Shorter jobs like this one weren’t his treat. They don’t pay as much as he likes, but it works out. These apartments were a bit shitty, they didn’t cost too much. And, he was right in the middle of the city. Easy to meet clients. The clubs went on all night long. Which is exactly how late he was out when he was home. Actually, he was planning to go out tonight. Meet up with Toji and see if he can’t get a woman in his bed by 2 am.

He wondered how long it would take to see his newest neighbor. The way the apartments in the complex are built, you could easily see into your neighbor’s bedroom. 'State guidelines say blinds aren’t required. You buy them,' was the response he received when he brought the problem up to the landlord. A lot of people invested in curtains, maybe they hadn’t bought any yet. He saw a bed, but it seems to be the only thing they’ve managed to set up. There were a couple boxes with flaps wide open sitting beside it.

After a few more moments of rumination, he closed his curtain and laid down on his bed waiting for a text to come over. In truth, he couldn't wait to see who was unlucky enough to be his new window neighbor. The last one didn’t go too well. They also didn’t invest in curtains and he isn’t entirely sure if he’s the reason they moved out, but he’s sure they didn’t appreciate catching his stare multiple times a day. And that one time at midnight.

-

All it took was the next morning.

Sukuna’s eyes crept open and he stared towards the ceiling. The girl he brought home last night was dead asleep and naked on his chest. He yawned and wiped his face tiredly. He nudged the girl off of him a bit, then sat up on the side of his bed. Ugh, he felt like shit. Toji always went entirely too hard when they went out, but Sukuna doesn’t mind. He has nowhere to be. Nothing to do. 

He got up and stretched then walked to the bathroom. As he completed his morning routine, he pondered about what today would behold for him. This is another reason he hated short jobs. Sukuna loves free time, but only if there’s something to do with it. There never really is.

He could kill that girl in his bedroom. In fact, he could have killed any girl he brought home since he moved in half a year ago. But the last time he made his job his hobby, it didn’t go so well for him. It was too close of a call, and getting arrested for murder just isn’t worth it. He could spend a couple months in the pen, not years at a time.

He spat out his toothpaste. Life was so fucking mundane. He had no life goals, barely any friends, his little brother hates him, and he works alone. All things he doesn’t actually care about, but shit, when is he going to get some excitement? Nothing gets him going anymore.

He needs something that will make him feel. A drug of some sort? But that doesn’t seem right to him. Even now as he walks back in the room staring at the woman in his bed, he feels nothing. If she woke back up and decided she wanted to have sex with him, he would say yes, but only because it’s something to do. He’s not feeling any particular way about her.

The moment he sat back down on the bed, she started shifting around. A few seconds later, she lifts her head and yawns. “Good morning.” She giggles, she leans over and kisses his cheek. Sukuna grunts.

The girl looks around the dark room. “It is morning, right?” She doesn’t let him answer before she stands up and opens the curtains. “Oh wow,” she exclaims. “I can see directly into your neighbor’s room.” She says. He still doesn’t get up, just hums at her.

“She’s cute though.”

Sukuna perks up upon hearing that. “Oh yeah? I haven’t seen her yet. She’s new.”

This was the first time since they’ve met that she said something interesting, but unfortunately for him, she drops the subject immediately and walks back into bed, leaving the curtains open. Sukuna holds back his sigh. Does he really want to spend the rest of his morning with this girl? It was half past 8. Way too early.

“I'm going to start getting ready for work,” he says without skipping a beat. She stops in her tracks and blinks at him, clearly not expecting that. It’s silent for a few moments. Sukuna’s not sure what she’s waiting on, but if it’s for him to say he’s kidding or let her stay, she’s sorely mistaken.

“Oh, I thought you were contracted,” she says nervously.

‘I only work when I feel like it, gorgeous.’ Sukuna inwardly curses himself for his suave nature. “Yeah. I got a contract. In an hour.”

His curtness and annoyed expression did good to make her feel completely and totally unwanted. The girl awkwardly smiled at him. “Oh, ha ha. Yeah…okay.” Sukuna got up and walked out of the room. Give her a little space to feel like shit while she gets ready to leave. He makes himself a cup of coffee, his face still that same blank expression even after he hears her rushing out the door from behind him. When she’s gone he takes himself back into his room.

He walks up to his window to close the curtains once more until someone catches his eye. He freezes and his eyebrows shoot upwards. That girl was right. She was cute. And he had the perfect view of her. She seemed to be posing or checking herself out. Sukuna wasn’t sure which one it was, but he hoped she didn’t stop. That bikini she had on was doing wonders for her, and him.

Something was off. Looking at her made him…tense. His hands were gripping the curtains, he was biting the inside of his cheek, his leg was shaking; Was it anxiety? No, she’s not making him nervous. What he’s feeling is euphoric. He likes it. He wants to grip her bare waist and squeeze her until she bruises.

In the short time he watches her, he learns 3 new things: 1. She has a mirror on the left side of her window. 2. She is completely unaware of how easily someone could see her in all her half-naked glory. 3. Sukuna could overpower her if it came down to it. Or maybe it’s 4 things. From the beating of his heart and the warm rushing feeling heading towards his dick, he learns the drug he thought he needed might not be a drug at all.

-

It doesn’t take long after that to finally meet her.

Before taking his most recent job, Sukuna had nearly consumed everything in his fridge. What was left was now finished and he spent a lot of his morning sulking at a half empty milk carton, his breakfast for the day. He hated eating out, it messed with his figure.

The local grocery wasn't too bad of a walk from his place, although he hated carrying everything back. He always bought a few necessities and a few ingredients to quickly whip something up for his dinner. Today, he’d have to bulk up if he doesn’t want to keep coming back.

As much as he hated the public, shopping never seemed to be a problem for him. He was tall and intimidating, he never smiled, he was always tense; people tended to avoid him like the plague. He appreciated it. But, as he enters the frozen meal aisle with his cart half full he wishes that just for a moment, he looked approachable. Then, this would be much easier.

There she was, in sweatpants and a cropped tube top, looking at the frozen pizzas. She looked like she had been home all day. She was much cuter now that he could see her better. A lot cuter. She’s pretty as hell.

Thank goodness, too. He already knew what her body looked like, what with her constantly taking pictures of herself in front of the window. She liked to play dress up, she would try on entirely different outfits before she was satisfied. Pretty soon, the colors of her bras and panties would be ingrained into his memory.

He stood there looking her up and down for a few more seconds before he started browsing once more. Although he really was looking for food he wanted, he used this opportunity to slowly get closer to her. He pretended to be interested in some frozen broccoli and he snuck a look at her. To his surprise, and enjoyment, she had done the same. When they made eye contact, she jerked and looked away. A couple moments after that, she grabbed her food and walked away into another aisle.

Sukuna chuckled to himself. She wouldn’t get away that easily. He dropped the broccoli in his cart and followed after her. He hadn’t seen which aisle she’d gone into, so he kept walking down and looking into each one until he found her trying to get some chips from a high shelf. He smiled upon seeing her struggle. Maybe this would be easier than he thought.

He managed to walk right up behind her and reach for the chips she was trying to get before she got startled. She gasped a bit and looked up at him. He looked down at her. Fuck, she was pretty. His heart started to pound, he could practically salivate at the idea of taking her home.

He hands her the chips before she can say anything, then walks away. Before he’s out of her sight he hears her say, “Thank you so much.”

Her cadence, the velvety softness of her voice; it made him want to drop to his knees. How sweet would she sound if he bit into her neck? How soft is her yelp when she stubs her toe? How shrill is her scream when she’s in pain?

Her appreciation made him stop in his tracks. He turned over his shoulder to look at her. She seemed nervous and her eyes were uncertain. Sukuna began to feel restless. So many ideas of what he could do to her if he got her alone were rushing through his mind and she was none the wiser. This aisle has been empty and no one has come by. He could take her right now.

Instead, he looks her up and down. “Yeah, sure.” And then he walks away with his shopping. He leaves wondering when next they’ll meet, she does the same as she watches his back.

-

“Still haven’t called the maintenance guy, huh? Lazy jackass.”

Sukuna turns his head to the side and glares at his unwanted guest. Toji may have been his best friend, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t want to break his fat neck and bury him in the park. Besides, that title meant jack shit. They met in jail and Toji helped him get on his feet when Sukuna’s sentence was up. Toji never really left him alone and Sukuna stayed because his family was rich. If anything, they were close acquaintances who had sex sometimes.

Speaking of Toji’s money, the asshole grew up in an affluent family which means his standards were a bit too high for the humble abode that Sukuna prefers. It was probably the most annoying part about him. He was complaining about the door to the bathroom. It didn’t close correctly so you had to force it shut. Something that just isn’t enough of a problem to be bothered to try and fix.

“Stop coming over if it annoys you so much,” Sukuna responds, taking another drag from their second blunt for the morning. He was finally starting to feel something from it and he didn’t want to hear Toji whining about bullshit.

“Nah, I think I’ll keep coming. Especially with your fine ass neighbor.” Toji walked away again, not seeing Sukuna’s head jerk towards him. What was he talking about? Sukuna didn’t tell him about her. Did he see her?

“Why the fuck are you in my room?” He gets up to follow behind him. Sukuna looks down the hallway and sees both his room and the bathroom doors wide open. The bathroom was empty. “Get out.”

He starts walking towards his room door but jumps back when Toji rushes out of it. “Come look at this,” he says, grabbing his arm.

Toji had this crazed grin on his face and he was tugging him along impatiently. “What the hell are you-” Sukuna’s words die in his throat as he gazes upon what had Toji so excited. It was his beautiful neighbor changing in front of her mirror again except, there was a big problem. She had never been completely naked before.

Holy shit, her body could stop a truck. Sukuna let his jaw drop. His eyes raked her from her breasts to her legs. She would turn around occasionally, walk back and forth in front of the window, oh he loved the way her tits bounced. He wanted her on top of him, his dick sliding in and out of her while he latched onto her nipple.

“She’s sexy as fuck, huh?” Sukuna’s unceremoniously snapped out of his trance by Toji’s comment. He turns his head towards him looking at his smile and twinkling eyes. “She do this all the time? Does she even know?” Toji gasps and looks him in the eye. “Does she do it on purpose?”

I’m that moment, a switch had flipped inside of Sukuna. Toji was watching her before he brought him in here. He saw her naked first. He shouldn’t have seen her at all. The warm swarm of butterflies in his abdomen had fluttered away, a feeling of rage building in his heart instead. She was Sukuna’s to look at, not Toji’s.

To answer his question, Sukuna shrugs. Then, they both turn towards her again only to make eye contact with her. They see her gasp, cover herself and shriek before running from the window. “Fuck,” they say in unison before shutting the curtain.

“I blame you for that,” Toji says despite both of them being at fault. He puts his hands in his pockets and walks out of the room. “Where’s the blunt?”

Toji may have forgotten about that little encounter, but Sukuna doesn’t think he can forget anytime soon. He hates that Toji got to see her like that. They still haven’t spoken more than once to each other, and now she knows he’s a pervert that stares at her through their windows. Sukuna scowls at the ground then slams his hand into the wall. She’ll leave soon just like the last one did, but this time, he doesn’t want to accept that as a possibility.

He gives himself time to calm down before joining Toji again. He can’t bring work home again.

-

It was over.

He saw her once after that incident. Waiting for Toji to pick him up for the night, he stood outside the local gas station smoking a cigarette. She’d been on his mind since. She invested in curtains, unfortunately. She was really uncomfortable. He’s not even sure if she’s left the apartment.

Thinking about what happened made him furious. If Toji hadn’t gone into his room he would have never seen her. Oh he just can’t shut the hell up about the shape of her ass and how he would let her suffocate him with her gorgeous thighs. Sukuna sighed, her thighs were gorgeous weren’t they?

She was a missed opportunity. There are so many ways he could have started something with her. It’s not like she didn’t like him, had they met again before that, he’s sure he could have gotten her number. Usually, missing out on a woman wasn’t that bothersome, but she was different for him. He looked forward to beating his dick under the windowsill while she tried on clothes. His imagination wasn’t bad, but by the time he came in his hands, his dick was red and sore and his arm was tired.

His memory is not enough. He wants her.

He looks at the time on his watch. A quarter ‘til midnight. He rolls his eyes. Toji’s always late. A quick snack is in order.

Sukuna mindlessly stares at the powdered donuts wondering if he really feels like fucking up his clothes and having dirty fingers. He hates club bathrooms, the one here is just as bad, and he doesn’t want to lick his fingers. Maybe he won’t. But right before he decides to leave, the door opens. He turns his head upon hearing the small ring of a bell, but doesn’t pay attention to the culprit until they’re in the same aisle. “Oh shit,” he said before he could stop himself.

He tries to look away before she notices, but it’s too late. He looks back at her and grimaces. The girl is shaken to her core. Poor thing is afraid. And while Sukuna feels a bit bad about making such a cutie so frightened, it kind of…warms his heart. She takes in a deep breath and twists back around. She doesn’t even buy anything. She just leaves.

He almost chases her. He stands in the aisle still reveling in her presence. He breathes deeply thinking about how nice it felt to have such power over someone. Hm.

Sukuna leaves the store only a few moments after her. Toji’s BMW was running next to a pump as he got out of the car. “Oh shit, there you are.” He grins. “Guess who I just saw.”

“I know. She was running from me.” Sukuna says, getting into the passenger seat.

Toji cackles while driving away. “Damn, so she’s scared of us, huh?” Sukuna shrugs. “She looked like it. Girl was huffing it. Actually…she ran down the street towards where we’re going.”

Sukuna raises a brow at him. Toji doesn’t say anything and just keeps smiling. “So?”

He turns on his beamers and slows down as he drives between the apartment buildings. Sukuna’s eyes widen as he realizes just what Toji’s trying to do. And soon his lips follow. Just up ahead was a figure with a hoodie walking very quickly. They turn around and immediately shield their eyes from the bright lights. It was her.

She seemed confused at first, and the bright light contrasted with the darkness of the night blinded her from seeing who was in the car. However, she didn’t stop walking or slow down. She decided to mind her business instead. It could be anyone. Anyone. Even though it was the same car waiting at the gas station.

Despite her telling herself that she’s okay, she couldn’t help but notice how they were matching her speed. And that once they had gotten right behind her, the window was rolled down. And that she still had a block left to go.

“Ay,” Sukuna shouted from behind her, effectively terrifying her. She turned to see his smile and upon further investigation, she saw Toji’s from the driver’s seat. Oh no. “You can’t say hi? You scared of me?” He taunts.

She ran.

-

And that was the worst thing she could have done.

There have been a few recent instances that made her question her move to this city. She was hoping to start a new life, away from her family, away from her ex, make some new friends; she didn’t think she would be planning to move out after a couple months.

That man…she didn’t know what the hell his problem was. Why did he and his friend follow her out of the gas station? Was he crazy? Did she do something to him? Since they followed her, she’s been racking her mind trying to figure out what the hell she did to deserve this. Before that, she had only ever spoken to him once at the grocery store. He was extremely intimidating, but she was intrigued by him. She didn’t mean to stare, but he was very attractive. Clearly he had seen it as some sort of invitation. Maybe he followed her into that aisle and it wasn’t just an act of kindness.

Coming home after work had become so much more nerve wracking. In fact, coming out of her unit brings her horrible anxiety. She’s constantly looking over her shoulder. Tries to pretend the building across doesn’t even exist. She doesn’t understand what took her so long to get curtains; it just wasn’t a priority for her. Either way, she didn’t deserve to be punished for her forgetfulness.

She’s in a weird position where the longer she goes without seeing him, the more worried she becomes even though she never wants to see him or his friend again. Currently, she was in the elevator heading up to her apartment. She was catching her breath and trying to relax now that she was safe. She does this everyday now.

She couldn’t wait to be home. The entire day she’s been feeling like complete crap. Her heart refused to leave her stomach. She dropped so many cups behind the bar that she spent more time sweeping and wiping up drinks than making them. And she was on the verge of tears the entire time. It was nice to be home, but she wondered how bad it would be tomorrow.

In fact, it was so bad today that although she was physically relaxed, her brain just wouldn’t be quiet. It kept telling her to stay alert, that there was still something waiting for her. She tried her best to ignore it and enjoy her night. She was going to kick off her shoes, rip off all her clothes, warm up her leftovers and hit her bong. She was off tomorrow and she is not planning on leaving her room at all.

She messed with her keys when she approached her door. All the apartments had two locks, a deadlock and a lock on the handle, but she was looking for another that she could attach herself. The home goods store near her didn’t have any promising ones, so she had to wait on a shipment.

She reached for the handle to unlock it. Her hand twisted the lever and she retracted it immediately. Her heart starts racing once more, but then she realizes the door was still closed. When she can’t get the door open, she sighs in relief. The deadlock was still intact and locked. The apartments are just shitty.

As relieved as she was in that moment, this just meant she had another problem to deal with. She couldn’t go with one of her locks not working, especially not the handle. In fact, maybe she’ll deal with it tonight. She does have tools and she can be pretty handy when she needs to be.

Like she wanted to, she kicks off her shoes and rips off her jacket. She almost takes off her clothes before she notices a certain smell in the air. Her apartment smelled of weed, but it smelled like someone was actively smoking right at that moment. Maybe it was her next door neighbor.

She walks through her silent home. Maybe she should get a cat. There are quite a few friendly strays around. She could afford-

What was that noise?

A bump. In her bedroom.

What could it have been? Had her worst fears come true?

No. It’s not possible…so why had that sinking feeling returned in full force? There was nothing in her room. There was no one in her room…

-

Toji had broken the lock for him. 'Just record it for me,' was his end of the bargain.

The place was just as cute as he thought it was. She still had a lot of things unpacked, and she hadn’t gotten a couch for the living room. Hm. He wonders if she really is planning on leaving. That would not be good.

He would want her to stay, but if she can get away from him, at least he’ll get a taste of her.

She leaves her weed out. Hm…he would enjoy this better if he were high. And he’ll make her smoke too. 

When he heard her coming closer to her room, he put the bong down and stood up. Her room was small and it was pitch black, the only light coming from the embers in the bowl. He hit her closet door and she heard it. Fuck. He hopes she doesn’t get a weapon out.

And she didn’t. This girl is…something else.

He hides right behind the door in between the wall and the hinges. Then, he waited quietly and patiently until she slowly opened the door and turned on the light. And before she could try to look around, he slammed the door shut behind her.

-

It all happened in a second.

She heard the door slam and time froze. She told herself then and there, that she was going to die tonight. She knew who her killer would be before she turned around. Did she even want to?

She didn’t have a choice, her body reacted before she could think. All she saw was a small scowl, he had brown eyes, but they looked tainted with blood. His hands, his large hands, shot towards her head and before she could scream he trapped her mouth shut. His other hand gripped the back of her head.

She fought him as violently as she could. She scratched his face, pulled his hair, tried to poke him in the eyes; but he was quick to show her that he was much stronger than her. He pulls his hand off of her mouth and smacks her across the face. She can only scream for a second before his hand is back on her mouth and he pushes her into the bed.

Sukuna takes his hand off of the back of her head and squeezes her neck. He still holds her mouth shut. She gets weaker and weaker as the oxygen leaves her brain. He leans down towards her face to speak to her. “You want to live?”

Tears had long been streaming down her face, but this is the point where she finally breaks down wailing. She lets her arms fall and Sukuna loosens his grip on her neck. But only slightly. She takes a deep breath and cries into his hand. “Answer me,” he says. “Come on, pretty girl.”

She cries a bit more before nodding her head in defeat. “I know. You’re gonna do what I say?”

She nods again. “You’re not gonna scream when I take my hand off?” She sniffles and sobs again. “Because you want to fucking live, right? Right?” He tightens his grip on her neck again. She kicks her feet and nods as best as she can. “Go turn off your light and turn on your lamp. You’re gonna smoke with me.”

He gets off her and watches her to make sure she does what he asks. It takes her a minute, she lays there quietly sobbing and wiping her tears while Sukuna takes another hit of her bong, but eventually she gets up to turn on her lamp, then flip her light switch. “Lock the door too. I like the feeling of extra privacy when I’m taking a woman to bed.”

-

He disgusts her.

He forces her to take several long hits that had her in horrible coughing fits. And of course, it wasn’t long before she was completely inebriated. She couldn’t really move too much, or think too much. But even though she was out of commission, she could hear every word Sukuna said to her.

He talked her ear off about how he’d been looking at her for a week before they met at the grocery store. All the way up until she realized just how exposed she was from catching him and his friend staring. It was her fault, is what he said. He said she was stupid to not think anyone could see her. She should have gotten blinds or curtains when she moved in. A fucking dumbass bitch.

That’s how she felt.

He taunted her as he watched her take her clothes off. His dick was already in his hand, he had been hard for a while. Imagining his dick finally pounding into her as he squeezes the life out of her.

‘I think you wanted someone to watch you,’ he said to her. She hung onto every word he said, answered every question he had. ‘You’re an attention seeking slut, aren’t you? Nod your head.’ And she did. ‘What’s your name?’ And she told him. ‘Take that shit off faster and come hit this again.’

She was completely out of it, but instead of floating, she sank. She sunk deeper into the bedsheets, Sukuna weighing her down with every word. Every stroke of his hand on her thigh, every lick on her neck and collarbone, every bite on her chest. When he reached down between her legs and stroked her clit, she moaned, then cried in shame.

“Shhhh,” he whispered in her ear from behind her. “You’re gonna love me. And if you’re good I won’t hurt you.” He kisses her ear, then nibbles on it. He leaves a trail of wet kisses down the side of her neck. She cries and shakes, twisting her head away from him as best as she could. Sukuna’s hands explore her body eagerly. He can’t decide whether he wants to grip her hips or play with her nipples. She was so soft, just as he imagined.

He flips her onto her back. “Look at me, baby.” She opens her eyes only slightly, her tears blurring her vision completely before falling. He takes his hand to cup her cheek and wipe them with his thumb. As she gazed upon his naked body on top of hers, she accepts her fate: this man was going to rape then kill her.

He looked deranged. His brows were knit together with a lopsided grin. Her body is racked with sobs once more. “It’s okay,” he tells her. “Shhhh.” He slowly brings his thumb wet with salty tears to her mouth. She tries to pull her head away, but he quickly attaches his hands back to her mouth and head then he leans down towards her. “I thought you said you wanted to live.”

She’s actually not sure at this point. Does she want to live with this trauma? Does she want to continue being this man’s neighbor for him to torture however he sees fit? Does she want to have to look at his building every single day living in fear that he’ll do it again? Living in fear of his friend getting any bright ideas?

“Just relax.” He lets go of her head and goes for her neck. She moans as he bites and sucks on it, making sure to leave a mark reminding her of what he did. It won’t be the only one.

Sukuna slowly takes his hands and lifts both of her legs in the air. He licks his fingers while looking at her, then bites his lip as he plays with her clit once more. She breathes harder and harder with every rub. They don’t break eye contact, it does something to him. He’s reveling in her fear. Her eyes were shot, her mascara and eyeliner running down her face. It made her look even more beautiful. She was making him feral.

Sukuna’s dick was an angry scarlet and dripped precum all over her leg where it rested. He was big and it scared her even more. As his eyes explored her body, he got hungrier and hungrier. He slides a finger inside of her and starts pumping. Her pussy was slick with her arousal.

“Fuck,” he whispered putting in another finger. He pumped his fingers hard enough to make her wetness splash. She threw her head back and arched her chest into the air. She sounded just as sweet as he thought she would. She was turning out to be everything he wanted and more. He wasn’t waiting any longer.

He yanked his fingers out of her and searched her bedside table for his camcorder. She whined when he removed himself from her and watched him. Sukuna pressed record.

“Say hi to Toji,” he told her, sticking the lens in her face. She closes her eyes and tries to avoid the camera. He grips her chin with his fingers and forces her head forward. “Ain’t she pretty?” Sukuna pulls away from her face to record her body. He takes her tit in his hand to play with. He jiggles and pulls on her nipple before smacking it. When she squealed he did it again.

“He’s gonna love watching me fuck the shit out of you.” Sukuna sat and balanced the recorder on her nightstand perfectly angled to show their torsos and hips. He gets back on the bed to grab her waist and pull her towards his. He groaned when he felt his dick rub against her pussy. “You know who I’m talking about, right? My friend? You know he saw you before I did.”

He pauses to spit into his hand and starts jerking his throbbing shaft. “I wanted to kill that fucker.” Sukuna leans over once more and kisses her several times before capturing her lips in one long and forceful kiss. He rubs his dick against her entrance as he does this, with a desperate moan from both of them to accompany it. Sukuna rests his forehead against hers. “Tell me you’re mine.” His eyes are fiery, and she doesn’t wish to find out what will happen if she fails to do what he asks.

His tip begins to poke through her entrance. She whimpers and he brings his head down and bites her lip. “Come on…”

“I’m yours-” He finally starts tucking his dick into her. The feeling of being inside her was heaven on Earth. He wasn’t ashamed of how loudly he moaned. She was louder anyway. They always are. Even when they don’t want it.

“My name is Sukuna.” She takes all of him like a fucking champ. And looks good as fuck while doing it. And her voice…

“I’m yours, Sukuna.”

A tear ran down her cheek. The dragging of his dick against her walls was nothing like she’s ever felt before. It felt so good, but she was the unhappiest she’d ever been. She’s terrified and unsure if she’ll live to see tomorrow. He says he won’t kill her if she’s good, but what does good even mean to him?

She knows there’s nothing she really could have done to avoid what was currently happening to her. This man- no, Sukuna, saw her when she was first moved in and decided then and there that he wanted to rape her. No matter what he claims about her being rude and ignoring him when he helped her. And yet, she blames herself.

If she had just gotten curtains or blinds early enough, then maybe she could have avoided him. Or maybe she wouldn’t have existed to him at all. At least he wouldn’t have known what floor she was on or her room. Maybe he wouldn’t have known what building she was in.

She was so fucking stupid.

-

He repeated that all night.

‘Stupid fucking bitch,’ he would mutter under his breath. ‘Changing in front of a window, thinking no one’s gonna see you? Posing in mirrors and shit?’ He fucked her at a smooth and steady rythym, she was soaking wet and splashing all over his stubble. The sheets were damp underneath. ‘Oh yeah. You like it when I talk to you like that?’ She couldn’t stop herself from crying in humiliation.

He asked her to cry louder for ‘Toji’, which she did, and he proceeded to smack her across the face for being too loud.

He felt amazing, he pushed her legs into her chest and hammered into her. She cried into his mouth as she came all over him. Her pussy squeezing his member drive him insane and before he knew it he was cumming inside her. ‘Fuck…’ He pulled out and jerked the rest of his cum onto her pussy and thighs. He quickly grabbed the camera to show Toji, with the flash on.

‘Look at that shit,’ Sukuna made sure to examine her at every angle. He pushed his finger into her and chuckled when she moaned. His index was covered with his cum and he brought it and the camera up to her body and face.

She was completely tired out. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t speak, she could barely even lift her eyelids. Sukuna kissed at her like a dog, then maneuvered the camera to her face. Her face was soaked with tears and spit. Her makeup had smudged everywhere and ran down her cheeks. Her hair was a mess, and she ached everywhere.

Her mouth hung open and Sukuna proceeded to jam his finger into it. He used it to pull her head back over to him and made out with her. Then, his dick started poking her ass.

She had no idea what time last night they were finally done, talk less of when she actually fell asleep. He smoked a blunt after the whole thing, sat her up so he could make her smoke too. He found her liquor cabinet. The night got worse.

She puked her guts out then fell asleep on the floor, but now she was in her bed trapped underneath him. They were both naked. She was sore as the day was long. He snores next to her. Holy fucking hell. She’s alive. Why is she alive?

She starts breathing heavily and looking around her room. She doesn’t know what to do. She didn’t think she would still be here.

In a flash, he’s up. His hand is over her mouth, and his eyes are staring into hers. He has a poker face. She shakes in his clutches and her eyes fill with tears already. “Relax. Listen to me. I know what you’re planning.”

What? What is he- “I dare you to fucking try and move away from me. I will follow you and ruin your life.”

“You said you were mine last night? Then you’re mine. You’ll do what I say, and I’ll do as I please with you. Do you understand?”

All she could do was nod. What could she say? She was planning on moving despite not having the money for it. She would have to save up. And now that he’s shown her what he’s capable of, why would she take the risk? 

Why is this happening to her? What did she do to deserve this? Want a better life for herself?

-

Sukuna was pleased with how the morning was going.

She was sitting on a stool in her dining room watching him make them breakfast with an ice pack on her face and a blanket over her body. She didn’t know what to think.

Suddenly, he perks up and turns towards her. “You got a phone, pretty?” 

She could throw up again. She swallows and points towards the hall . “My room,” her voice was hoarse and weak. “On the other side of the bed.”

He pauses and blinks at her. She gets scared again wondering what she did wrong this time. He turns the heat off. “You’re coming with me.”

Toji answers in a flash. “So, how was it?”

“You’re gonna like what you see.” He turns towards where she’s sitting on the bed. “Isn’t that right?” She’s not amused.

“Are you…are you with the bitch right now?” Toji asks.

“Yeah,” Sukuna makes his voice dreamy. “We’re going steady.”

ending a/n: Please lmk what you think ! Thank you for reading !

Masterlist

W E L C O M E P A G E

[kechiwrites]

gentle touch

könig x massage therapist!reader kinktober countdown day 5 (body worship)

synopsis: oh, the military boys were your favourite.

wc: 2.8k

cw: massage therapist reader doing bad medical-ish practice, body worship, light sub!konig, mentions of edging, hand jobs, a little oral as a treat, biting, konig being petnamed as he should (honey), size kink, hints at touch starvation, groping, begging, uncut konig, afab!reader, no gendered pronouns or language.

author's note: i know his dick hex code and it's glorious. mdni.

He’s your last appointment of the day. And what a fucking day it had been, ten hours that should’ve been eight, cinnamon scented candles instead of eucalyptus, a rushed lunch because a client had shown up early, not taking “I’m on break” for an answer.

You knock on the faux bamboo door, waiting for your appointment to allow you entry. When he does, so quietly you almost miss it, you open the door, only for your eyes to land on a broad, strong back, still wrapped in a dark grey long sleeve. He turns slightly, just enough for you to see the thin stubble on his chin, cheek and jaw.

"Hello! I didn't catch you undressing did I?" This time he turns all the way around and you are sure your swallow is audible. Hell, you hope it's audible, you want this dude to know just how impressed you are with what you're seeing.

"No." He shakes his head, rubbing his aquiline nose against the inside of his wrist. It must’ve been broken once before, if the uneven bump on his bridge is anything to go by. Why is that hot? That shouldn’t be hot. You eat up the motion, eyes tracking every twitch or movement of his massive arms.

“Oh…" you're ogling him. You need to stop ogling him. "I actually need you to strip down.” The words burn on your tongue. You must say that a thousand times a work week, but this time, when you say it to him, it sounds…dirty. Like a shitty porn set up. Makes your clean white polo feel vacuum sealed to your skin. He takes a step towards you and you shudder a breath, tensing until you realize he’s getting closer to the lockers to your left.

He’s huge, you think, and when he still doesn’t look up at you, content to let the strands of dark brown hair, nearly black hair, hang in his face, you figure he’s shy too.

Cute.

“And you can use the towel to maintain modesty, Mr. König.” You get the inflection of his name wrong, you know because you’d googled it prior, held your phone to your ear in the staff washroom and listened to a soft spoken German man lilt it to you. There’s a hard ‘g’ on the end where it shouldn’t be, and you apologize, trying again to master it. “König.”

“Right.” He murmurs, “Just around my waist, yes?”

Or it could go on the floor and I could rub my clit on your abs.

“Yes, sir. Around your waist.”

You exit the room, closing it softly behind you. You figure you’ll use the few minutes you have to get a bottle of water, or a sedative. Something strong enough to bring you back down to your customary professional detachment.

When you return, he’s where you expect him to be. Face down on his stomach, his head in the cushioned hole. “S-sorry.” He speaks, voice muffled by his position. The apology comes immediately upon the sound of the door closing and you worry his large frame has cracked the massage table or something. You peer around him, looking for any chunks of polished wood or loose screws.

When you don’t find anything you realize he’s apologizing for his scars, the pit marks of bullets dug out in haste and healed with spite, lacerations haphazardly stitched, then redone a second time with the careful, practiced hands of a doctor in no rush.

“Oh, please don’t be. We get military boys all the time. Nothing I haven’t seen before.” You murmur, and it’s a lie of course. Not that you’ve seen scars, of course, you’ve seen some really storied skin in your time here, being near a base and all. No, it was the man who was an oddity. Mandy at the front desk told you that he’d had to duck through the front door.

His skin is also ultra pale in a way military men usually aren't. Near transparent, the sprawling blue lines of his veins thread underneath his skin, and you can see yourself getting distracted tracing some of the pathways with your fingers.

He hums, and you hope you’ve put him at ease a little bit. You haven’t even touched him yet and the tension in his back is glaring. Anxious people tended to hold a lot of stress, anxious soldiers? You’re just glad he’d booked a two hour instead of the customary hour and twenty.

The oil is cold straight from the bottle and you warm it between your palms before you make contact. He’s warm to the touch, bridging on hot, and he flinches when your hands meet his skin. “Was that too cold?” He groans, but doesn’t affirm or deny it, so you figure it must just be the contact. Slowly, you begin with his calves, tending to and pushing on knotted muscle and tense areas, working out kink after kink, soothing his compounded aches. The oil smoothes down his leg hair and you must be going insane because even that is hot to you. His thighs are even worse, strong and muscled and dimpled in the sweetest places. He shivers when your palms glide over his inner thighs, and he clenches them together when your fingers brush the hem of the towel shielding his ass from your greedy view. As quickly as it happens, he relaxes, murmuring another apology. You hum your own response, and push your thumb into an adorable cluster of moles you see just under the towel.

By the time you get to his lower back, König is almost purring, his gentle breathing often interrupted by drawn out, guttural moans. Whines and whimpers that make your blood hot. He’s holding the worst of his tension there, and you have to lean almost all your body weight into the motions of the massage. His hips jerk up and then down just as sharply when you crest your palm over her shoulder blades, and you don’t imagine the keening noise he makes as he grips the massage table. You’re used to military clients being a lot more stoic but it seems Mr. König is most assuredly not the sort. You reach his neck, framing his throat with your palms and using your thumbs to rub firm circles into his nape. His breath hitches and you find yourself cooing. “Breathe for me, I got you.” The soldier’s hips snap downward again, this time hard enough to shift the table beneath him. Which is more than enough to make you pause. 

No.

It couldn’t be.

The soft music and sound of the water feature on the wall nearly drown out the curse König whispers, but you catch it, and can’t stop your lips from curling into a pleased little smile. This was just too good. You start to finish up his neck, brushing some of his hair out of the way so you can rub your fingertips into the skin just below his earlobes. You guide him to turn over and when he doesn’t respond, you wonder if he’d fallen asleep.

“Mr. König?”

He makes a wordless groaning noise low in his throat, laying motionless.

“I need you to turn over, honey.” You don’t even realize you’ve pet-named a grown man you don’t know. Which is just as well, because it seems to be what the soldier needs, and he rises from the table, clutching the towel in a tight fist to maintain his scant modesty.

You turn towards the side table, pouring more oil into your palm. When you return to face him, you witness why exactly he was so reluctant to face the ceiling.

He’s at least half-hard, a very noticeable ridge lifting his towel. You can’t stop staring at it, even though you know König is trying his best to ignore it. You circle around him, and begin at the foot of the table, going through the massage cycle again; feet, calves, thighs, arms. You zone out, following through your motions, listening to the man beneath groan and sigh his contentment. You reach his chest, spreading your hands over his pecs. They’re big, just like the rest of him, you think and it’s hard not to fucking drool on him. He’s firm but soft, still pleasantly warm, despite being exposed to slightly below room temperature air. He shifts again when you hit a stubborn knot right below his collarbone, and you pause to check in.

“Still good?”

His breathing is uneven, shuddering and laboured. His hands clench and relax from white knuckled fists.

“Yes.” he hisses through gritted teeth, and you’re worried he’s undoing every bit of relaxation you’ve tried to bring him. It’s painfully clear where the stress is coming from, hidden underneath a paltry white towel, the enticing elephant in the room. You put your hands back on him.

Still got 45 minutes left, after all.

You try your best not to look smug, and you fail miserably.

Every stroke and rub you perform across his chest makes his cock jerk and twitch under the towel. You can practically see the cloudy drops of precum that’d be beading as his tip. Your thumb nail skates across his pectoral and catches his nipple and the whine he makes is so sweet you just have to do it again. Soon, you’re barely massaging him, groping the poor man under the guise of your job. A weak grunt snaps you out of your reverie, and when you glance down his abdomen at that godforsaken towel, you can’t stop the quiet gasp of shock you release at his erection. “Ah, I’m so sorry. Very sorry” His flush spreads from his cheeks all the way down to his chest, a gorgeous stewed cherry colour that overwhelms the pale skin you’d worked into submission. His eyes are screwed shut when you can bear to drag your eyes from his cock to his face. His soft, pink mouth is pulled down at the corners, and the heavy, dark slashes of his eyebrows are furrowed together, creating a wrinkle between them you want to smooth out with a kiss.

“It happens all the time. Are you alright to continue?” Your voice is deceptively calm, serene and soft, when all you really want to do is snatch the towel off the battering ram he’d smuggled in here. Your blood thrums, and you ache at the sight of it, at the mere thought of the ungodly stretch he’d put you through.

You will yourself to keep your hands where they are, force yourself to look literally anywhere else. The faux waterfall ahead of you, the wireless speaker droning pleasant, melodic mood music, fuck, you even try staring at the dimmed light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. But every cry and whine forces your eyes down, tempts you to catalogue every inch of flushed skin and threaded muscle. You gnaw on your own lip, and find your hands drifting down, back around his abdomen. You’ve worked through the area already, there is no excuse to be down there, to slip your finger tips under the towel, to push your digits into the skin around his pelvis. “Is this okay?” You have the gall to ask, when you push your fingers lower still, and basically sign your own severance package. Oh but it’d be worth it, to get what you want, to make this big strong man sob with pleasure, to have his mouth on your throat while you stroked him to completion. The memory of his cock in your hand will keep you warm in the unemployment line.

König nods, turns his head towards you but doesn’t open his eyes. His hips cant upwards again, and his towel shifts, parting to reveal his angry, desperate hard-on. He raises a hand from the massage table, letting his mammoth paw land on your hip. He squeezes you, and exhales sharply through his nose when his thumb touches your bare skin, skating over your flesh underneath your work shirt. “Say it.” You mutter and his eyes crack open, just wide enough for you to spot the crystalline blue of his irises between his inky black lashes.

“Please.”

And that’s all you need.

He’s uncut, and the veins blanketing the length of his cock are visible under his foreskin. Pretty in a way you aren’t used to, a denser blush than the rest of his body, but still quite pale. It feels like your hand is moving in slow motion towards it, your fingers twitching in anticipation. The heat of his dick warms your skin before you even make contact, and when you do, wrapping your fingers around the root of it, your fingertips can’t touch. You press your lips together and try not to squeal happily, glee crinkling your eyes.

God is real and he’s an uncircumcised cock on a shy giant.

König’s erection is searingly hot. Soft skin and hard core, jerking in your palm, leaking steadily, nudging at your hand, insistent. Your brain is working full steam and connections necessary to utilize common sense are still not being made. Slowly, you tighten your hold on him, the weight of it is so imposing, you wouldn’t be surprised if imprints of the veiny surface were branded onto your hand once you withdrew. If you ever withdrew. You should fucking withdraw.

You do not withdraw. Instead, you slide your hand up slowly, choking up on the head of his cock before dragging your grip back down. You chance a glance up at his face, watching his Adam’s apple bob with each laboured swallow. The poor man’s jaw clenches and relaxes while you slide your palm over his flesh again and again. Somehow, he hardens further and your eyes widen impossibly larger, the pit of your stomach doing somersaults at the idea of where you want that thing to go, what you want it to do. You get fevered flashes of König bending you over the massage table in your mind, hands on your hips, rutting without sense or logic into you, so hard the surface scrapes against the floor, all while he sobs, his overwhelmed, overstimulated tears splashing against your back while he rearranged your insides. The head of his cock is exposed every time you slide your hand down towards his pelvis. By the third peek, you’re dragging the pointed end of your tongue over the tip of his dick, licking against his head, and coating your mouth with the taste of him. He grips at your side harder, his fingers digging into your hip as he chases the warmth of your mouth. He keens loud, almost mewling when you pull off him, using your spit to ease your hand’s path. By this point, your handiwork is audible, noisy and wet, König’s voice filling the small room. You use your free hand to guide his head to your chest, letting him bend toward you, press his nose into your tits while he begs for you to finish him.

“Are you gonna come, Mr. König?” You thread your fingers in his hair, letting your nails scratch against his scalp, drift down to his nape and up to his crown again.

“Yes, please, please. Fuck.” His voice is reedy and thin, and he wraps his arm around your waist, burying his face deeper in your chest. And then his whole body trembles, and his hips roll towards you, and for a fleeting minute you consider edging the poor bastard, sliding your hand completely off his cock and watching it twitch violently, uselessly in the air.

But he begs so sweetly. And his next session was already pre-booked.

The hand you kept on his head leaves his hair, and you rub the head of his cock with your flat open palm, jerking him off with firm, fast strokes. He bites down on the curve of your breast, and you’re grateful he still managed to retain enough brain cells to not break skin.

“Do it then. Come, honey.” You trill, feeling his tears wet your skin through your shirt. It’s almost instantaneous, so fast it’s kind of impressive. His body goes bowstring-tight, and he squeezes you so hard it almost hurts. Ropes of sticky white seed shoot from his cock, covering your hand and his spasming abdomen. You slide your hand up, milking just the first two inches of him through his orgasm, until he stops your movements himself, covering your hand with his own.

When you finally break contact, you stare at your hand for what feels like ages, thick beads of his cum rolling down your palm, sliding to your wrist. You extricate yourself from his hold, using your clean hand to brush his sweat damp hair from his forehead. You press that kiss you wanted to the space between his brows. Why start restraining yourself now? His body shivers periodically, and you turn to the sink, to wash your hands clean, clenching your own thighs together, his moans and sighs echoing in your mind. You turn to face him, grinning wide and cheery,

“So...I’ll see you next week?”

hoe, you are getting fired! at least you got a man outta it though.

support city girls who love gummy worms, reblog what you like.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hello!

Could I request some hc's for platonic Alastor and Reader where he treats Reader like a little sister?

Y E S! LET’S GOOOOOO! I LOVE ALASTOR! MY DEEREST— sorry. Sorry… I am so excited to finally have a Hazbin Hotel request. Thank you soooooo much, infinite amount of love and support to you, darling! Thank you!

Platonic! Alastor- Hopping Little Heart

“Al… can you just stop it”

You grumble out loud enough to be heard with sharp eyes glaring over your shoulder, annoyed by the constant babying and half-condescending treatment the Radio Demon himself gives you

Alastor, ever since he met you and managed to trick you into giving up your soul to him, treats you like you’re a child under his care. Like you’re an incompetent incapable little girl that he has to take care of as your older brother. It’s annoying, you’re 25 and been in Hell since 1985. Yeah, he’s 33 and been in Hell since 1933 but still. These whole behaviours of his is driving you more crazy than you already are

“Hmm… Let me think over it… I don’t think I will stop brushing your hair, my dear” Alastor hums out in a snarky yet dapper fashion, his transatlantic-accented voice echoey and menacing with the usual radio lace as he continues to brush your hair humming out a old-timey tune under his breath, long sharp fingers holding nice silky strands over his palm. You’re getting ready for a special party Princess Charlie Morningstar is arranging as a celebration for the first client, Sir Pentious, being redeemed. Here is Alastor behaving like you can’t doll yourself up on your own

Sometimes, you seriously think Alastor views you as an eight year old and he’s adopted you as to act like your surrogate older brother-caretaker. He’s overprotective, he shoves you away from arguments as to ‘protect your little ears’, he is quite favouritistic over you that it’s obvious, he gives you all kinds of cute gifts, he lets you touch him when nobody else can. As compared to how he treats Husk and Niffty, the overpowered Overlord treats you much more civil. He does act like a clingy loving boundary-stepping brother, it’s weird…

Even Charlie notices it but nobody really wants to point out, other than Vaggie, how weird it is to see Alastor baby and babytalk you in the Hotel Lobby, with no shame, like you’re five years old. Who would ever think a narcissistic, violent but yet charismatic demon like Alastor could express genuine affection to anybody else? Alastor, in a rather impressively fast pace, ties up your hair in a cute fluffy bun for this upcoming party. As if he’s tied up women’s hair many times over

How about himself? Will he attend this party? No but he’ll go to watch over you, that’s it. He isn’t going to participate in the event, he isn’t on the side of redemption. He’s here for his own amusement and he especially isn’t a fan of get-togethers, even if he behaves and dresses like he attends the most lavish rich parties all the time. He isn’t much of a party man and he just wants to make sure his surrogate little sister isn’t being creeped on

“Look at that, darling. Simple magnificent” You can’t help but roll your eyes at Alastor’s half-praise whilst putting in a nice pair of diamond earrings, himself readjusting your dress so it’s comfortably hugging your body. Hearing the Radio Demon speak in usual half-talking down, babying manner to you, he always does it. On his end, he was admiring how pretty you look when he finished fixing you up. You’re the most pretty girl in this shitty Hotel and he’d love to rub into Vaggie’s face, he is still very annoyed at the Hotel Manager insulting his relationship with you. However, this is too risky, getting into a fight with Vaggie at the party will cause his murderous itch bubble over

And he doesn’t want to be violent or monstrous around his little sister

“Thank you, Al… you know, you can go now. I can walk to the Lobby on my own, I am not five” You’re not very good at expressing your desire for space with this demon, nobody has the confidence to tell Alastor what to do or to fuck off, and Alastor himself has absolutely no grasp on personal space so even when you spell it out for him, he just ignores it. Picking you up from your chair in front of the makeup mirror with zero effort and placing you down before him

All ready, pampered and sparkly to a degree he thought you were outshining the Hotel room’s light, Alastor’s wide sharp toothy grin almost feels less of power and dominance, and more genuine and prideful over… what? Over you?

“My dear. I can’t just let such a precious princess go out there all on her own. Allow me to escort you, as a family member. It’s the least a brother can do” Your suspicions over this Overlord’s intentions towards his brotherly-like affections to you has been confirmed. He does view you as a little sister and whilst his treatment of you, though trying his best to be affectionate and caring that comes off as belittling and bothersome, he doesn’t just view you as another soul to be exploited as to serve him and the Hotel he’s investing in

It’s kinda flattering and you just think for a bit whilst Alastor offers out his arm for you with patient silence and his grin never dying out, blood red eyes still locked on you like a proud older brother. Maybe, you’ve been a bit too harsh to this possibly really lonely deer-featured sinner. Maybe, you can just give him a chance and let this whole surrogate older brother-younger sister bond he is trying to develop with you actually blossom

“Careful of your heels. Don’t want you slipping on the floor. Niffty just waxed them”

A/N: Lmao. Fuck, didn’t read the HCs until after I finished writing. Sorry, hope this is okay!

[satocidal]

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ “Business Ventures?” — Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo

Synopsis: just the best business investments—one that involves you, the owner and his bot best friend—and your desires<3

— word count: 1.4K

— a/n: in contraspect, this arose from my deep desires and I perhaps am speechless about it <3 (sorry for the shitty smut but I had to write it) (this is the fifth try please work😭)

— warnings: MDNI!!Fem Reader!! This is spire nasty smut honestly; p -> v sex; no sub-dom dynamics; scene set sort of in a brothel? Where Satoru is the owner; no use of protection (be smarter people); creampie; reader treated as an object(?); degradation and praise

Click-clack-click— the sound of their footsteps sounded through the small hallway, girls scrambling about around him- half naked, adorable and very fuckable.

“Come on in,” the grin that was spread across Satoru’s face—“you’ll love the new investment,,” not a look he passed back towards his best friend, Suguru—neither did he, too busy eye-fucking the side-chick that was clinging onto Satoru’s side.

“She’s new,” Satoru chuckled, referring to you, “but fuck she’s good and tight,” his eyes bounced on many girls zooming past them—hand carressing the ass of the girl next to him.

“Why’s she so special—I bet this one’s just as good,” a wide grin Suguru adorned as he said so—hands itching to reach out and touch her, “ah well,” Satoru coughed, “she’s mine—off-limits for you,”

And as if on cue, the girl leaned up on her toes, kissing Satoru’s cheek—giggling when he slapped her face slightly—“only in front of the clients doll—not my best friend,” a wink, “and our regular,”

A disgruntled scoff Suguru passed—“and the new one? She’ll be mine?”

“If she wants,”

A knowing look passed between Suguru and Satoru—“Last room down the hall, you’ll be the first one tasting her like this.”

“What, you won’t come with me to watch at least?” A smirk, Suguru knew the answer.

“If you insist,”

“You Better be good for her, she’s precious,” Satoru added in—“the best.” Suguru snickered.

-

“What the hell,”

Suguru couldn’t help but mutter out—the room was mostly empty, save for the hole in the wall beside them.

“Fuck here” a sign above it, neon and all so pretty in purple, it read.

“I’m actually fucked in the head in the right ways aren’t I?” Satoru cackled while Suguru couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea as well.

It was obvious to what it was—a glory hole, no doubt it would help Satoru and his business skyrocket— but fuck, it seemed so dirty an idea.

“Anyone there?” Suguru sounded out as a joke—but just at that, the gears worked, and there you were—ass and pussy sticking out of the hole.

A pretty little thing.

“Check her out,” Satoru’s words however, almost fell to deaf ears, for Suguru was already kneeling behind you—or specifically, down to face your pretty pussy and ass—pink with a puffy little clit—dying to be played with.

He could tell you were wet already, your pussy lips all so perfect and juicy for him—and it was true too, all so evident in the way your slick collected on his fingers the moment he pressed and spread around your folds.

You could feel the light touches, clenching at the way the foreign hand seemed to inspect you, it wasn't Gojo you knew were sure.

But just at that, another hand reached out—colder—ah, you were sure this was Gojo.

A sudden jump and flinch, your face burned at the way the two men—separated from you by a wall chuckled at your ministrations.

“She’s jumpy eh?” The first man, his voice softer, smoother—fingers still playing around your pussy.

“All the perfect ones are,” Gojo seemed to reply, wasting not a breath in reaching fingers down to your clit and pinching it.

“Be gentle Satoru,” the first voice seemed to speak out, it was gentler, softer? But it knew what it wanted— “fuck off Suguru, she’s ours, aren’t you pretty thing?” You moaned loudly at the way Satoru circled your clit.

But ah, there it was, the name—Suguru.

Suguru and Satoru.

The intentions were clear down right—where Suguru wanted to taste you, make you fall apart for him, Satoru was there to show you off—mark you.

“Who’s gonna fuck her first?”

“You’ve had your go once- I’ll do it,” you were sure his voice held an edge of dominance to it—a snicker from the other man you heard— “never gonna say no to free pussy huh?” Punctuating his words with a slap to your ass, you were sure he held a constant grin to himself.

And just like that, you were there at their disposal to be fucked as a glory hole—“look at the way she clenches Satoru,” and you clenched further still—sweat resting at your forehead as you felt his fingers finally touch your clit.

“Bet you’re tight huh?” Not a word you let out, choosing simply to moan as you felt his tongue land flat against your pussy- “fuck I’d stretch you out doll, but your pussy’s practically begging to be fucked like this,”

And just at that, the sound of a zipper going down entered your ears—so close, so so close—you could feel his tip rubbing against your folds, plap- plap- plap—he slapped his dick down on your pussy.

Slowly, steadily his tip came in contact with your opening, so eager that you were for him—tight and perfect.

In seconds you lay there, shamelessly moaning for him as he tried to make you comfortable —“a fuckin’ moaner aren’t ya?”

“You should hear her when you use your mouth on her,” Gojo grinned—the sound of his moans as he stroked himself filling the room just as well—“she’s a god damn dream,”

How embarrassing, spread open for the two men—being fucked and watched—such a needy slut that you were.

Suguru kept his rhythm simple, your eyes rolled back in the way his tip rubbed against your gummy walls, the slight bend to the left, almost as if he was mending you walls to accommodate for his length.

“Y’er s’tight doll—m’not gonna last long,”

You clenched at him harder right then—hoping he’d cum sooner for you.

You bit down at your lips, the constant pressure of his hips slapping against your ass—the way you were just an object—you knew Suguru wasn’t bothered about your pleasure or release—you were a mere glory hole after all.

You loved it.

And soon enough, the thrusts turned sloppy, faster—you could feel his dick twitching inside of you—so close.

“Shit- m’close,” he grunted—a sharp slap landing on your ass, “do I cum inside of her?”

It wasn’t your choice either—no, he was asking Satoru- your owner.

“Yes ‘course, she’s a fine doll—perfect to be bred,”

You squealed as right at the end of his statement, you felt him gush in—it felt sticky, hot, he shot into you— thick ropes, Suguru didn’t bother pulling out either—making sure that your cunt remained stuffed, filled with his cum.

Hot breaths passed out as You felt Suguru finally pull out- whining at the sudden emptiness, another chuckle the boys let out.

“My turn,” the eagerness in his voice was all so obvious you could’ve found it almost endearing—had it not been this filthy an interaction.

you’d experienced him before — just as good he’d been too.

Your hole clenched around nothing as his warm breath fanned on your clit—“shit dude, you stretched her out already—but she’ll be fun still, won’t you?”

The answer wasn’t needed, he was satisfied with the jiggle of your ass as he squeezed it firmly.

Always the impatient one, he wasted no time, slipping in all so easily—he was thinner, longer—just as hard in the way he thrusted into you, and far more vocal.

Where Suguru was all grunts and curses, Satoru moaned the same as you—eliciting an especially pornographic moan as he entered you—“you’re so warm inside princess,”

“She is, isn’t she? Fucking perfect,” you heard the other boy speak—all so aware of the to set of gazes at as Satoru chuckled while inside of you.

“I’m telling ya, she’s the best slutty thing ever,” you couldn’t help but moan louder, it felt so degrading to be used this way but fuck, it only made you wetter.

Satoru made sure to hit the spots inside, deep—where Suguru was rougher, meaner it was almost as if Satoru only wanted to tease you and please you—“you’ll cum with me right princess? We’ll cum together yeah?”

You were sure he’d already been at edge all the while Suguru was using you anyways—you didn’t mind how fast his orgasm arrived, hell you could beg for him to fill you too.

It was in the way that both the men continued cooing and talking about you—in the way satoru thrust into you, all the while slapping and circling, pinching and playing with your clit too.

It was in the way you could cry from all the pleasure.

Both of you moaned simultaneously—until you felt his dick twitch and throb inside you—and just at that, you finally let go—mind going blank for a second too long as he continued thrusting.

Caught off guard, Satoru couldn’t do much when he came into you—stuffing you once more with cum.

Right as he pulled out, you could feel his fingers at your opening again, pushing all the cum inside you—to secure you.

“I swear to god if she gets pregnant-”

“It’ll be fun finding out who’s it is heh- and anyways,”

A sharp slap landed on your pussy, you cried out-unsure of who it was, “she’s meant to be used like this.”

All of this work is original and entirely my own please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#375

“Hey shithead, get over here.  I got some news….  You look like shit.  Come here.  Kneel.  Reach in and take out my dick.  I’ve got to take a piss.  Drink up and listen.  A buyer put in an offer, and it was accepted.  You’ve been sold.  I wasn’t expecting for a chunky slave to sell after only one day of showing, but that big truck driver made a full offer.  He’ll be back later on tonight.  He made some demands….

“He wants you cleaned up on the outside and loaded up with loads from many men on the inside.  I’ll bring the hose around in a bit.  Sir Hank will be down in a bit to bring you some soap.  He’s also going to make that cage permanent, by riveting it on.  Your dick will be useless going forward.

“Do you remember how many men unloaded in your cunt so far this morning?...  Four?  Good.  Hank and I will each provide one.  With you off the market, it’ll be difficult to get men in here just for a fuck. 

“I called a buddy.  You’re not his type, but he’ll bring his slave and fuck him instead.  When he’s ready to nut he’ll just shove it into you.  Or maybe he’ll use a condom with his own slave and then squeeze the load into you.

“Oh wait a minute….  Let me see….  There’s one…  two….  There are a couple of used condoms in the trash can here.

“Bend over and lean against the wall.  Present your cunt.  I have no idea how long these loads have been here, whose load is in them, or even if they were used on you or the slave that was in here last.  You are getting their spooge contents now….  Damn, you have one hell of a gape, which should make the squeezing in of the loads easy. 

“That truck driver has one of the biggest dicks I have ever seen.  He’s great to work with.  Prompt payments.  And most of all he seems to want the fat slaves, or the weird ones.  He’s an intermediary for several buyers out west.  You’ll probably end up on this pig farm where you will be force fed until you bulk up, and then installed in a pig pen with other real pigs.  Castration is most likely.  Not just the balls but your shaft too.

“There, both loads are in you….  Oh, I missed this condom here….  I didn’t realize that our clients used so many rubbers.  I guess it makes sense. 

“The other possible buyer that trucker uses is in Oregon.  He’s one of those militia types, but one who likes fat fags chained up in his basement.  Don’t know that much about him other than he’s a sadistic bastard.

“There!  Three anonymous loads in your cunt.  Get ready, this will probably be my last time for me to breed you. 

“Jesus!  He stretched you out.  All these loads are making this one loose sloppy hole….  This isn’t going to work.  Clamp down then spin around.

“Get me off with your toilet mouth….  You look grossed out.  That’s the cum stew from your cunt.  Clean me off before you get me off.

“That’s it.  Don’t fucking gag.  This is your life now.  Good boy.  You are an ass eating, piss drinking, cum dump slave.  Whoever you wind up with, they are going to do way worse nasty stuff to you.  This is what you do.  This is what you are.

“I’m going to miss your tongue.  That’s what made you sellable.  Does it ever feel good on my dick!  Work it!  Fuck!  I’m going to cum in no time.  Keep licking my balls when I go in deep.  When I tell you, spin around so I can dump in your cunt.

“I wish all slaves could have a tongue like yours.  When you eat my shitter, it really makes my hole quiver.  I don’t know what you do back there, but man does it feel good.  You always gave me your eagerness to please, and you do so no matter how shitty you were being treated.  That’s so hard to find in slaves. 

“I’m getting close.  I’m getting close.  Now! Give me that cunt!

“Urg! Uh! Uh! Ahhh! Jesus! Fuck!  Damn slave.  I gave you a large load to add to the stew you have brewing….

“Clamp down then clean me off….  There you go.  Fuck that was hot.  There’s some sludge in my pubes; get that….  I have to piss again.

“Ahhh!  When I’m done stand up….

“…Slave, I am going to miss you.  You know, if we were in a different situation, I would put you on a diet and a rigorous exercise regimen.  I would have you as my boy. 

“Don’t tell anybody what I’m about to do.  Don’t pull away; I want to kiss you…. 

“…Like that.  Now you treat your new owners the way you have treated me.  If you are lucky, they won’t torture you too much.  I wish you the best.”

[xxaraaq]

masterlist

wc | 1.4 k

cw | smut, that rlly it

Connie x black! reader

A/N | I hope y'all like this I couldn't get this outta my head so here y'all go

Chef! Connie who’s all brash words and glares as he runs his top of the mill restaurant

Chef! Connie who’s no bullshit when it comes to the quality of the food that goes out to his customers and clients

Chef! Connie who rolls his eyes when a persistent critic comes in for the third time this month to get a meal from renowned cook

Chef! Connie who has a short temper with everyone but you — his lovely sous chef

Chef! Connie just loves to piss you off just to see you blow up on him, enjoying watching you lose your long streak of patience as you curse him out over the way a dish should be plated 

Chef! Connie who’s at his best when he’s with you; moving fluidly with you as you both get through a busy Saturday

Chef! Connie who despite everything, can always depend on you for anything

Chef! Connie who barely holds in his laughter  seeing you go off on the shitty junior chef for thinking that he knows it all and sending out a dish to the wrong client

Chef! Connie who relishes in way you talk all big and bad to him in front of him in front of your subordinates, but become putty in his hands every night

Chef! Connie who never fails to remind you who had you screaming the night before -– or recent morning — just to see the surprised look on your face

Chef! Connie who never spares details about his escapades with you, even to his closest friends

Chef! Connie who treats himself when he’s rewarded with another michelin star — opting to spend the night between your legs instead

Chef! Connie who doesn’t let up, even after three orgasms 

Chef! Connie who somewhere in your fucked out bliss, put you in a mating press, pounding into you like he hated you

Chef! Connie whispers the dirtiest things into your ears as you whine for him to slow down

“Come on mami, you can take it. My girl always does, yeah?

-Nene

[chihoshisai]

Guitarist Ace

Ace x Reader

Part 1

cw : self-sabotaging Ace, drinking, established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, cursing, Ace needs serious therapy // wc : 3.8K // I'm really loving toxic guitarist Ace to the point i'm planning on writing more of him ♡

tagging : @littleleelee @taylor4taytay @seillarium @acpola01

A Drowned Temper Part 2

Ace wasn’t sure when he blacked out. But when he did wake up, the harsh colors of sunset were creeping all around his apartment. Irritating every cell in his body as he winced while the feeling of consciousness regained him. His brain thumped in his head. His eyes burned. Everything seemed to feel too bright or too noisy. And worst of all, the wretched heated sensation that started to make its way up from his stomach to clog at his throat, before getting released once his head had found the toilet bowl. God, he just wished for every part of his body to stop throwing a tantrum and behave so he could get ready to go on about his business. 

Right, now that his emotional probation day had passed, now that he had drunk away his feelings, it was time for things to get real again. The routine — head to his part-time job, go to the studio to practice and maybe hit the bar with his friends. Practice being the highlight until the time they settled for dripped away. Which was a mere two to three hours. As for food? A mere afterthought. Whenever he had time to grab a bite or two in between transit from one place to another. Things were too hectic for him to slow down. 

In all honesty, with the way his body felt, almost like it was mutilated, Ace did not have enough willpower to think about you. Nor about the things he had said that had driven you to exit his apartment with a rainfall of tears staining your features. Right now, all he could do was dissociate. Put his brain on autopilot, and do the things he usually did when he wasn’t completely wasted. 

The truth was that he feared to take a step back, to consider and analyze things, and that in turn he would come to realize the ugly truth behind his reality. That he needed help. But why ask or seek for it when dreams and opportunities are right around the corner? Why sacrifice lifelong efforts just because you’re having a hard time? Ace was the type to suck it up, letting it explode inside of him rather than coming to terms with his weaknesses. Even if one of them was you. He owed you not one, but many apologies for his shitty behavior. And even if he wasn’t ready to properly own up to it, what with refusing to change and treat himself better, then he’d make up for it with what he did best. Music. Signing, flowers, soft yellow fairy lights mixed with an astonishingly sweet and romantic candlelight homemade diner. The perfect combo that he would accompany with pleading eyes as the cherry on top.  

Yet again, you weren’t the priority right now. Finding pain relievers was. 

Ace busied himself through a disheveled morning routine — a quick shower, the first clothes he saw and the usual skipping of breakfast as the finishing touch. He would make it up to you eventually. He truly would. But only after the storm that raged inside him and between the two of you yesterday had passed. After all, you were his brightest light of hope and inspiration.  

Eventually he made it outside, grunting under the sunlight that discomforted his still present hungover. He survived work, as easy going as it was by working in an instrument shop and using his expertise to guide the clients that wandered in. Work was a breeze of fresh air for Ace. A way to connect and be in constant proximity with his interest while also not being too demanding. And let's not forget the discount, a blessing for not only him but also to his members, providing a comfortable cushion for the otherwise rigid budget spent on instruments and tech. Surprisingly, the pay was good and for some reasons the tips he received were even greater. It was a given that he was attractive, even if he never considered himself that way, but Ace preferred to believe that his sales skills were the cause rather than suspecting his appearance.  

With the relief that work had brought on the sensitive body of Ace, late afternoon had managed to come by and announce the end of his shift. As such, he bid farewell to his coworkers and headed to the studio, his feet's dragging along the sidewalk with the nearing of his demanding reality. He sighed, sliding his hands in his pocket, thinking how positive he had to be for the infinite time in front of his band. It was so so fucking exhausting. If not for his believing in his skills and worth, along with his member's, he would've screwed the whole thing a long time ago. Most probably spiraling in the unknown reality that would've welcomed him like a cold shower. Hanging in there was hard. But giving up and trying to pick things up again after some time, with the past possibly repeating itself like chains pulling you down, seemed even harder. Scarier in fact. 

Therefore Ace readjusted the guitar case on his back, feeling it heavier than usual as it was the reminder of his journey, clenched his jaw and instead thought ahead for which way to uplift his friend's mood. 

The studio in which they regularly performed was situated upstairs with the first floor being for dancing, giving off a cool air with its black walls while also looking quite elegant with leather couches in the lobby. Ace arrived with a yawn that quickly got replaced by his customer service smile upon greeting the manager and a slight bow once learning that the price had been paid and the others were already inside. 

However, the true colors that etched at his heart quickly clawed their way to his face once his back had been turned to the lobby's counter. And it was with a scowl that Ace led his feet amidst the corridor, recognizing each door with the inhabitant it housed as a potential threat before stopping in front of one. The only threat behind it being himself. At least once he had stepped in. And his members also. If we forget the other bands and the industry, the greatest obstacle an artist could face was inevitably themselves. 

With those last thought echoing in his mind like a warning to give his all for the upcoming three hours, Ace's lungs found themselves rising before emptying themselves of all the inhaled air and consequently providing a counterfeit comfort to his nerves, before a firm hand opened the door to allowed the muffled voices and instrument symphony to pass through the forged smile that stretched Ace’s lips. 

There it was again.

The subtle stolen glances of worries. The averting gazes when confronted by eye contact. The pretending to appear busy by fiddling with the instrument. The compassionate smiles.

Ace did not ask for any of it. And because their concern was genuine, he turned a blind eye to it all as there were more pressing issues at hand than nitpicking his bandmate's expressions. 

With his positive facial features, he closed the door behind him and let a greeting that had been polished for such situations slide from his dry throat. “Hi, it's good to see you guys are always so early!”

“And you're right on time,” the bass member Marco pointed out nonchalantly. 

The drummer Yamato, who until now sat on his chair, rose with a smile. “To be honest, I was starting to wonder where you were, but now that you're here I'm relieved.”    

“Sorry, got a busy day at work,” Ace laughed through his lie, depositing his instrument case agaisn't the wall to take out the guitar. 

Truth be told, it was quite rare for Ace to arrive remotely at the appointed time, but with the rough evening he's had with you, let's just say that things had hit harder than usual. His feelings. His tears. His anger. His frustration. His increased alcohol intake. His black out. No wonder coming here almost felt like a chore, especially when he was aware that you knew the band's practice schedule. 

“Is your girlfriend not coming over tonight?” The pianist Izo asked, his serious expression piercing through Ace's mask.

His smile twitched at it's corner, but by placing the guitar around his body and keeping his gaze on the strings while tuning them, it was enough to appear unbothered despite the complex hurricane that bit his insides. “I don't know, she didn't tell me anything.” His heartbeat raced in anxiety by placing the blame on your silence.

After making sure that the guitar had been plugged in the amplifier, Marco went on to change the mood that started to appear like a morning fog. “Alright then, since we're all here let's get started.” 

“Let's play loud enough for everyone outside to hear,” Yamato cheered.

“You're overestimating the sound proofness of these walls,” Izo pointed out with arched eyebrows.

“Who cares, we have to be able to make our music reach the people standing at the far end of the audience after all,” Ace grinned, taking his usual position in the center, turning his neck with a nod to give Yamato the signal.

Three drumstick click traveled through the room, before the harmony of different instruments went on to echo through the walls. Ace, who despite all things considered had been waiting for this moment allowed his voice to be carried by the melodic notes. His sense of loss and failure, mixed with the complications of relationships seeped through his pore by his every breath. Record companies be damned. Auditions be damned. And fuck romance for being so damn difficult. So damn demanding. 

Even if he loved you.

In that single moment all that mattered was the polishing of their skills. Until the exhilaration of the practice came to an end, the heated up muscles relaxed, puffed breaths came to be heard and the intensity that once seized the room came to be blown away by the silence of instruments. Their time was up.  

“Good job y'all, tonight was a good one!” Ace praised in between breaths, turning to face his band with a proud smile now that his passion has been fueled. Looking at them and the sweat that dripped from their skin was enough to remind him of his faith in them, as well as how he could keep on doing this vice cycle over and over again. 

If he wasn't broken, he could keep going. If his fingers still moved, he could keep playing. If his voice wasn't gone, he could keep signing. If his heart was still ablaze, he could keep the band living. 

With everyone busying themselves with packing up, Marco took that opportunity to slide himself beside Ace. “You probably shouldn't tag along with us after this. Go and get some rest,” he hushed in a whisper.

Offended by the words, Ace's lips thinned in a line, “what makes you say that?”

“Just some concern for our leader, you know,” he placed a hand on Ace's shoulder, squeezing it in compassion. “I'll handle stuff here so get some rest at home, okay?”   

Deep down, granting himself a distraction through the evening merry of eating and drinking with his friends was what Ace desired the most. It would in turn cloud his return home, with an unfocused mind that would cease to think of the difficult stuff and lull him to sleep proficiently. But going home sober meant facing a reality he had yet to swallow. A reality that had been postponed by his hangover. And with his mind finally free from the haze, he would undoubtedly think of you. Of the vile speech he gave you all while standing in the cold night veil of his apartment. Alone. Clear headed. In silence. More than anything, he dreaded the direction his thoughts would take towards himself in the solitary confinement of his head.

“What are you guys whispering about,” Yamato asked with furrowed eyebrows. The drums belonged to the studio, meaning that he only had his sticks to pack. 

Bending to pick up his guitar case before putting it on his back, brushing away the hand simultaneously, Ace gave an innocent smile. “It's nothing,” he spared no look towards Marco, knowing full well he failed to answer his question. 

“Then let's go eat already,” Yamato chirped, wrapping an arm around Ace's shoulders.

“About that,” Marco began, forcing both to look in his direction, along with Izo who had just finished packing his piano and turned to join the conversation, “Ace won't be able to join us tonight. He's quite tired you see.”

The nonchalant attitude almost made Ace burst out in anger. But his mind knew that the words were spoken out of worry for him, and therefore used that knowledge to lock in the emotions alongside the thousands of others ones who had met the same fate, preventing them from seeing the light. Instead, his lips pursed in a weary way while he nodded.   

“Is that so. Then get some rest,” Yamato voiced with a nod accompanied by an encouraging smile and a fist bump on Ace's shoulder.

“Get home safe,” Izo added in turn.

The words forced to come out of his throat with an unsuspicious tone while anxiety dreaded in the pit of his stomach unnerved Ace. “Yeah, I'll see you guys tomorrow.” He forced a smile to crack on his features before silently following the group outside and parting ways with a wave of hands.  

As his body neared home, every muscle dragging Ace in an aching manner made him aware of the truth. He was physically tired. Thankfully that wasn't a lie. But that didn't guarantee that the exhaustion would travel to his brain and shift him to sleep like alcohol would. Once the habit was settled, there was no getting out of it quick and easy. As such, with the brisk night air pricking his skin, his thoughts, while reenacting the events of practice, made Ace take a mental note to pick up more of the bittersweet substance after dropping off his guitar at home. The last memories of your times together were still too fresh for him to analyze them radically. 

Having finally reached the floor of his apartment, Ace momentarily froze.

Shit. 

He considered turning back. Pretending he saw nothing. Maybe even crash at one of his brother's place under the excuse that it has been a while since they met. Even crazier, go back to the orphanage in which he grew. Anywhere. Anywhere would do.

But he had spent too long considering his options because your eyes turned to fix him with a blank look. Running away now would only add oil to the fire. However his heart could not permit him to fumble twice in less than 24 hours. But it was far too soon for you to show up. Far too soon for the shrouding feelings that swelled inside Ace to have cooled down. 

His brain hurled profanities, while his legs headed towards the door in a slower way, his face trying to remain calm as he eyed you crouching by his door. Meanwhile his mind was completely panicking. Trying to pinpoint the reason behind your presence. Almost choking him by entertaining the thought that a breakup would follow. God this was awful. A bitter taste settled in his throat while time stretched into eternity. 

As the distance closed, Ace watched you stand up, your body language bare from any sort of emotions when his feet stopped inches away from you. The fire of yesterday shouldn't have extinguished in you yet. Maybe you were here to pick a fight in turn. What a poor consolation these reflections were. He remained silent, unsure of the correct approach to take and hoped you would voice your reason for being here. 

“You're back early today. Did you skip the after practice hangout?” You asked with genuine curiosity. 

Ace couldn't bring himself to meet your eyes. “Yeah well, things happen.” He shrugged. Frankly it annoyed him — that you were making small talk after deciding to show up unprompted and how he wasn't ready to deal with you just yet. He had never expected you to come for him when it should have been the other way around and now he wished you'd get to the point before his temper got the best of him again. 

“Is it okay for me to come inside?” You pointed a finger towards the door.

“Of course,” Ace brought out the keys from his pocket, tinkering them inside the lock. Best have a talk inside than out for the whole world to hear. Plus with you inside, it would overwrite the self isolating scenario that would've happened otherwise. 

An increase of heartbeat found itself ringing in Ace's chest. While he deposited the keys. While he put down his guitar. While he ran a hand through his hair. While he sat down on the couch. While he watched you stubbornly stand across the room, refusing to sit. Everything made him and his poor heart uneasy. Terrified. Palms sweating. Eyes unable to do nothing but fixate on the ground.  

The reality was that he should have given you an apology the moment he saw you. Begged for forgiveness even. It might have been enough to salvage the situation. It might have prevented this thick tension from staining the air of his home. And because he hadn't spared you a single thought throughout the day, he wasn't ready. Now with his skin growing hot with the passage of time, he sat awaiting for your judgment to come.

“What's wrong?” Your words, softly spoken, carried over while you eyed Ace.

“What?” His eyebrows furrowed, and finally after getting inside he looked at you. 

“I'm asking you what's wrong,” you began. But as the confusion remained you further added, “you were right to say that I can't understand all you're dealing with since I'm no artist. But I think there's more here than simple frustration over a rejection. Speak to me not as a musician but as a person.”

Ace parted his lips as if to say something, but quickly shut them. It felt too anticlimactic. And he wasn't going to jump on the opportunity to make amends without addressing the elephant in the room. “Do you have nothing to say about yesterday?” His gaze found the floor again in guilt.

You sighed. “Not particularly. I just came at the wrong time,” you admitted. Truth be told, your entire being had grown soft towards Ace, almost like a sponge that would absorb all of his ugly and release it through your personal methods for the sake of your sanity. You loved him enough to make a sacrifice. The tears. The pain. The misery. All were temporary. But the happiness. The laughter. The warmth. It was enough to overwrite the bad and fuel your down bad passion for this man. Even while being aware that the whole thing felt like the thorns of a rose.

“Don't give me that crap,” Ace raised his tone in annoyance. “I owe you an apology,” he mumbled sourly, clenching his now intertwined fingers, unable to face you still.

“And you think you can give one in this state?” You asked with an arched eyebrow. 

God did Ace hate being sober.

“But if you want to talk about yesterday then fine. Why did you say those words to me? Why did you push me away? Why did you treat me that way?!” Your voice grew in melancholy with each sentence bringing back the ache of another day.

Ace racked his hair once more with a hand, according occasional glances at you. Your tone ripped at his heart even though he was the one that brought forth the conversation. “Because I was drunk,” he whispered in shame, cheeks reddening in self awareness.

“What?” You scoffed, baffled.

“Because I was drunk okay!” he raised his voice along accusatory eyes in your direction at the sound of your bewilderment before regretting it through a sigh. “Look I'm sorry.” He said in a softer tone.  

You crossed your arms, “that's just your excuse!”

“Then what do you want me to say?!” Ace's voice threatened to reach the roof. To him, this was his reason. His truth. And to see you blatantly deny it proved quite painful. Almost unfair.

“Alcohol is a bridge between your pent up emotions and your mind. So I want you to be honest with me,” you paced the room, closing the distance that fermented the argument.

With you standing so close, Ace found his sight robbed of the ground and instead directed an annoyed look to your face. “What the fuck are you talking about?!” Truly he had no idea. All he wished was for you to accept his apology and move on. But now that you were the one who ambushed him, holding the reins of the conversation it made the struggle quite difficult. It unsettled his mind, leaving him feeling vulnerable. Being sober didn't help either.

“I'll ask you again. What's wrong?” One of your hands, ignoring his temper, slowly went on to stroke Ace's cheek, exchanging warmth as a reminder of the affection that existed between you two, before parting ways while your eyes egged him to answer. Yesterday had made you realize how deep Ace had fallen. How far gone he was. How unaware he remained. Therefore you weren't about to allow him to slip further without trying to catch him. Even if it meant drowning with him. 

Blaming him would be too cruel.

Blaming the alcohol would be too immature.  

Ace took in a deep breath, having calmed down at your touch. “I don't know. I can't understand what is happening to me,” his lips trembled, “so how can I explain it to you when I can't rationalize it for myself,” his voice cracked while his nose sniffled. The burning sensation that scratched at his eyes mixed with the prickle of his throat made Ace take notice of his first words of truth. How he had laid bare a reality he ignored for far too long. Rather than making him feel relieved however, it made his muscles tense, his heart palpitate in an uneasy fashion and his mind to grow apprehensive towards the future. A part of him wanted to blame you for bringing forth this side of him. However, his thoughts were far too agitated to fight back against your ruling of the conversation.     

“That's okay,” you wrapped your arms around his neck in an embrace, pulling him close until his head nestled in your stomach while he remained sitting. “That's all I wanted to hear. You did well telling me that,” your hand stroked his hair in an affectionate way, “let's figure things out together from now on, okay?” 

Ace nodded while raising his arm to circle you in turn. “I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry,” he whimpered.

“I forgive you.” 

[morinuu]

commoner trouble

kyouya x fem!reader (1k words)

black locks fell on kyouya's set of charcoal orbs, his monolids hidden behind his glasses from the angle you were sitting. the couch began to feel uncomfortable, as if something were calling you to stand up and gently take his glasses in your hands, caressing his hair and letting him rest his head on your chest.

his eyes would finally relax and his body would ease in your arms as he'd take deep breaths to finally let go of all the stress that managing a host club and his studies brought him.

he'd sigh and relieve his eyes for a couple of minutes while you caressed him, before inevitably having to end his break and return to work.

he would. in your fantasies.

you sat in the host club's purple couch, uncomfortably staring at your classmate who was writing something on his laptop on a desk not too far away from the rest of the hosts. this was your routine.

you'd go to the club after classes, sit there for some minutes, waiting and waiting for your turn to try and make an appointment, but there was always some type of shitty excuse from the man.

"our hosts have different price ranges, you wouldn't be able to afford an appointment with me, ms. y/n." you didn't ask how he knew of your financial matters.

"i'm afraid we're all booked the entire week." his voice echoed almost void of all emotion, before he turned to another girl who wanted to re-schedule with a smile on his face.

"our prices went up this week." they hadn't, but you wouldn't know since he never actually told you the prices at all.

one stupid excuse after another and another - and you finally stopped looking for a logical explanation for his hostility. 'it's fine, you'll get your turn one day.' you told yourself each time.

you didn't ask for much really, just an appointment with ootori kyouya like every other client of his. but you hadn't considered the difference between you and them - class.

in all honestly, at first, kyouya had been indifferent to the new honour student of ouran, until he found her staring at him shamelessly throughout their classes together. he figured she'd stop soon, probably just fascinated by his looks.

but it's been four months and you won't give up.

it's not like you're harassing him. you keep your distance in class as not to make others notice, you don't ask for his help in subjects where you could seriously use it - mainly german - and you don't approach him during lunch either.

just at the host club, where you were allowed to ask for his attention as long as you paid a fee. it wasn't unfair or a difficult request, just some tea and a conversation would quench your thirst to talk to the man, to actually engage in an intelligent conversation with him.

but alas, not only did your wallet have limitations, so did kyouya's patience.

he found you... unsophisticated. vulgar, maybe improper?

he didn't express his distaste for your clothes, which were trying to replicate a male ouran school dress code since you didn't even own a yellow dress. your black trousers and white dress shirt barely looked like they were of similiar material, because they weren't. your worn out sneakers hurt his eyes when they stood out against all the neat and polished pointy dress shoes of every other student.

to his elegant and privileged world respective, you were nothing but a pitiful woman, treated like charity by the school so the public can say 'the suoh family cares for the sad common folk!'

he didn't even stop to consider how similiar you could've been to haruhi, because haruhi - as much as he refused to admit it - was a dear friend. she was nothing like you, surely. she wasn't unkept, she was always groomed and wore the uniform that she'd been given.

no, your eyes from across the room looked nothing like haruhi's. yours expressed pure admiration for a man who never bothered to say hello unless he had to.

but he'd warmed up to the other commoner, so you two must live differently.

because your neighbourhood is much sketchier than the quiet area the fujioka's lived in. your clothes are much more worn out than haruhi's, much more washed too.

but it's not like you're apart of the club or their clientele (that one's because of him) so he can't check on your life much. it's not like he cares to check either, you're just unpleasant and he blames it on your wallet. surely that's what's ticking him off.

the minutes were passing and he knew he'd have to stand up and kick you out once more, like every day you came by the club. only this time, just as he raised his head to look at you and approach you again, you'd already started walking to the exit.

what? how come?

it didn't matter, you left on your own. maybe it was a sign that after four whole months you'd stop requesting him. he turned his attention back to his laptop, not wanting to go through the trouble to check if you were really gone.

until a couple minutes later he saw a hand slam down on his small table, with some 10,000 yen bills below the hand's fingers. his gorgeous, wide, gentle, doe-like perplexed eyes found yours in a matter of seconds and his breath hitched at your determined facial expression.

"i'd like to book an appointment for ootori kyouya this thursday." you muttered a bit nervously, as if you hadn't quoted the same line over and over since the beginning of the school year.

just as he want to reject you, you pointed to the money on the table. "it's enough. i know it is. and i know you're free." your tongue played in your mouth and you looked away, intimidated by the eye contact.

he didn't know how hard you'd worked just to save up barely enough money for an appointment. how hard you tried to keep up with your studies, your exploitative part time job and your housing bills. you were embarrassed at how desperate you were just for simple chat, but it didn't matter.

because kyouya ootori had finally accepted a 35 minute appointment with y/n l/n, and you couldn't be happier.

divider by @saradika

[scar-lie]

Omega Pt. 1 [Natasha]

Summary : You’re in heat and the only Alpha there is Natasha, you’ve been wanting and in love with, so was Natasha

Pairing : Alpha!Natasha Romanoff x Omega!Fem!Reader

Warnings : Knotting, Unprotected sex (p and v), use and mention of sex toys, Alpha Natasha, Omega Reader, Possessive Natasha, Creampie, Cockwarming [Let me know if I missed something]

Word Counts : 1572

A/N : This one is kinda shitty, since I'm new to the omegaverse and still wrapping up with the plot, so spare with me😬

⚠️18+ Minors DNI, read at your own risk

{OMEGA PT. 2}

No one has permission to repost my work anywhere, if you see it please let me know.

I huff on my bed, clearly uncomfortable and not satisfied, my body is full of sweat and the irritation feeling in my core didn't help from my situation

Well this morning, I woke up feeling my heat began and when my heat hit me I suffered from the pain in my lower abdomen and irritation cause I'm an unmated Omega

I lived in the woods near the lake. I only go down town if I need something like groceries so never meet the Alpha I need, plus this is my choice too

I heard a lot from not only my friends that most of the Alphas treated Omegas shit so I chose to live here since I was 17 but I know and I can feel that I'm not whole there's something missing and that's an Alpha

My friends tried to help me find an Alpha but they all turn into just a random stranger who's not gonna treat me well and sometimes I'm falling into their trap, I mean I can't blame myself, I'm an Omega, an unmated Omega

"AAA GRR " I groan, taking out the faux cock out of my pussy

"Need an Alpha" I whine and stand up and go to my laundry basket to get my Alpha friend hoodie, it's Alpha I've been wanting too, for her to claim me, mate me and knot me

I put it on then go back to bed, straddling one of my pillows and humping it, trying to satisfy myself by my pillow and smelling the scene of an Alpha

—

NATASHA

I get out of the compound to unwind my mind. They are so annoying, well they are always but today they are being extra annoying today and I need a break

Tony just broke my widow bites, Sam and Bucky running around the compound and shouting at each other, and thank god that Steve, Wanda, Vision and Bruce just minding their own business quietly and Client is in his family

I was running in the woods for 30 minutes now, since the woods is the most peaceful and quiet place to run with, so I went there

But I stop when I smell a strong scent of cinnamon roll scent and a mixture of a burned coffee bean and scent where one person I know who had a scent like that, and it's calling for an Alpha

I growl and follow where it is coming from and I can't help but to find it and claim that Omega, and it leads me to this house near the lake and the more I come close the stronger it gets

And smelling it makes me rock hard, I growl debating if I should come or just leave it alone, but I hold myself for a minute looking around to see if there's an Alpha, maybe this Omega already mated and just calling for her Alpha

But minutes passed and no Alpha came, so I started to walk towards the cabin, open the door and go up where the Omega are

"Mmhhhhhh" I heard her purr and I can't help it anymore, she's producing strong pheromones calling a nearby Alpha

I open the door and see her sweaty half naked body humping one of the pillows while some toys are laying on her bed too and I wasn't surprised to see Y/N, I mean from the moment I smell her scent I know it's her and to add she's wearing my hoodie

"Oh princess" I whisper with dominance and she looks over her shoulder with her half closed eyes with pain

"Natasha?" she purr stopping her movements, I release my pheromones to relax her and cover her with my scent

"Mhhh Tasha" she purrs slowly, humping the pillow again and her eyes lock with mine, pleading for something

"It's ok, princess I'm here now, tell me what you want" I husked, coming closer to her and she whined more

"Tasha....please" a tear ran down her eyes, I released more pheromones and rested my hand on her waist rubbing it when I got behind her

"Tell me what you need, Omega" I husked in her ear, smelling her

"You....mmhhhh need you" she whined leaning back on my front and I grip her waist hard and start to kiss her neck

"You already have me, princess" then I move my hands down to her hips, pull it to my crotch and hump her ass

"Need you Alpha, please.........need your cock....mhh yo-your knot...please" she rested her hand above mine and threw her head back

"Please.....Alpha need you" she whines and I start to suck her neck and my right hand goes up under my hoodie she's wearing and massage her breast

Then I suck on her scent glands at the bottom of her right neck, she purr wiggling her ass that rubs to my cloth crotch so I take her chin to face me and kiss her lips

I lift the hoodie up over her head leaving her naked in front of me and she hums on the kiss when I start to massage her breast

We make out and my hands are roaming around her body until my hand cups her hot wet sticky cunt, I growl in her neck and she moans, holding my wrist and squeezing it

"Please....need you Alpha" I growl and quickly discard my clothes and lay her flat on her back in her bed, looking down at her and admiring her body.

"Please..." she cried so I quickly leaned down and captured her lips while running my member on her wet slick, lubricating my member to enter her

"You need my dick, Omega? my knot huh?" I whisper in her neck and nip the shell of it, she moans and nodded frantically

"Yes yes, please....need your cock so bad, need your knot" she moaned so I didn't waste any minute and line up my cock and we both moaned when I finally entered her and slowly pushed in at how tight she is

"Ohh fuck, you're tight, Omega" I moana nd she start to scratch my back with her nails

"So....big" she moan on my ear and this makes me want to fuck the shit out of her but I stop myself, wanting to give her time to accommodate my length and girth

All I want is to make her comfortable and good. I needed to make sure that I, satisfied and protected my Omega, mine

"Move a little faster....please Alpha" she moaned so I picked up the pace a little, letting her enjoy this moment

"Fuck" I growl, wanting to fuck her harder so I look at her face, it's all written with pleasure, enjoying how I fuck her to I pick up the pace a little and she moan louder

"Fuck, so tight" I moan and start to leave my marks all over her neck while her back arch and holding on my back and shoulder, like their life depends on it

"Mine, mine, mine" I keep chanting picking up the pace and fucking her in an inhuman speed and I can't help to release more pheromones, covering her with my scent while I can smell how arouse she is

"Yes... yours...fuck please......I'm cumming......I'm only yours, my Alpha" she whisper moan, her legs starting to shake and her eyes shut tightly

"Fuck....my Omega...mine only.....mine" I groan feeling myself at one trust, two and three and my knot form at the base of my cock, it's so large that it hardly fit on her sweat tiny tight cunt

"Mmhhhh.......Please Alpha, knot me....mate me.....claim me" she moaned and kept chanting 'my Alpha'

"My Omega...gonna claim my Omega and fill her up with my pups....you want that, Omega?" I whisper moan, keep thrusting

"Yes, yes please Alpha, fill me up with your pups" she moaned so I started to lick her scent gland

"Gonna pump you full with my pups, making sure you're pretty swollen and round with my pups" I whisper, turn her around and with one more one trust I finally tuck my knot inside her and make sure to lock it

"Please...." with that she cum hard so I bite in her scent gland, claiming her and hump her ass, cumming inside her, painting her walls white with my seed

She purr at it, fisting the pillow, making her knuckles turn while and when I secure my knot inside her I stop and lick the fresh wound in her scent gland, feeling the bond forming, I can feel her, scent her more

She turns her head to look at me and bite down on my scent gland too, making me moan and release inside her again and when she's done she licks the blood out and lays down in the bed with closed eyes

I can feel her and I know that I have to protect and make sure she is safe and comfortable, she's my Omega, my only Omega and I'll be her only Alpha

"Mmhhh, my Omega" I purr, changing our position into a spooning position, she groans at the movement and clench around my knot and I groan at it

"Shhh.....it's ok Omega, shhh" I coat and tuck ourselves in the blanket and put my arm protectively around her and pull her back in my front and tuck my head on her neck, smelling her

"My Alpha, mine" she whispers so I hum kissing her cheeks

"My Omega, my sweet sweet Omega...shhh, sleep darling, I'll be here when you wake up" I whisper, combing her hair and I can feel this make her lure in sleep, relaxing her so I keep doing it until she falls asleep in my embrace.

"I love you, my Omega" I purr and join her in her deep slumber

[harrys-titties]

Harry’s a dick, and Y/N hates him for it.

WARNINGS: small dick energy from Harry until all of a sudden it’s big dick energy, if anyone treats you like this at work, please for the love of god go to HR, switch Harry and Y/N, degrading sex, PIV sex, oral (fem and male receiving,) rimming, spit kink, idk man lots of different sex things in this, lots o’ swearing bc it wouldn’t be a fic by me without it and lots of plot where they just hate each other so much lol.

(A/N Here it is; love you all. Pls let me know your thoughts!)

-masterlist-

Y/N hated Harry. 

She hated his perfectly coiffed hair and his smooth, glowy skin. She hated his award-winning smile, which drew people in like a siren or summat, his melodic laugh and the swoon of his voice, which could charm even the grumpiest of coworkers. She hated his leather jackets and his heeled boots, his vanilla and tobacco scent and his tattoos.

And she especially hated the way he teased her. 

Y/N would consider herself a strong and willful woman; she was intelligent and knowledgeable about her work. She cared about her clients and the colleagues around her, even if they were more often laughing at her than actually talking to her. She was well-spoken and confident, but something about Harry riddled her into a bumbling fool for some reason. She could hardly form a sentence around him. And if, by some miracle, she did, it was primitive and nonsensical, often made more embarrassing by the fact that she was usually trying to defend herself against his incessant taunting. 

It was infuriating. Each time she saw him leaving one of the elevators across from her desk, she would internally groan, duck her head and try and focus on whatever was on her computer screen. Anything to avoid capturing his attention, and no doubt his mockery straight after. Why did he need to come down here so often? It felt like he was doing it on purpose. None of the other members on the associate's team would bother to come down to the analyst floor (too busy dealing with actual clients and pretending they were much better than any analyst still wading through spreadsheets and numbers), but each day he would arrive, waltzing down and gliding across the shitty commercial carpet as if he owned the place, and Y/N fucking hated it. 

She couldn't be alone in it; she knew she couldn't. But her lonesome status within her own team made it hard to ask, and it looked as if everyone worshipped the very floor he walked on, greeting him as if he was a celebrity and laughing at his less than funny jokes (mainly when they were aimed at her.) 

She'd had enough, and each time she heard the soft pat of his shoes against the carpet heading straight towards her desk, she'd attempt to gear herself up for the fight, try and prepare exactly what she was to say when he would inevitably point out something that didn't meet his satisfaction. But each time, she would only look at him dumbly in response, the words getting choked in her throat and coming out in a mismatch of errs and ums. She hated the way he'd stand at her desk waiting for her response, his arms across his chest and his shit-eating smirk plastered across his (let's be honest, not that good looking) face. 

Until she'd finally give up, a cheerful laugh leaving him and a "still learning to speak, are we?" Or an, "hm, such a good point" thrown behind him as he stalked off. 

It was safe to say, Y/N fucking hated Harry Styles. 

——

Harry had a good life and an even better job. He'd basically waltzed into the company when he was fresh out of university, applying for a role much above his pay grade and far beyond his experience level. 

Even he was shocked when he actually got the position, understanding that charm and wit could only get you so far in investment banking. But it seemed flirting with the Vice President of the company and the hiring director during his interview paid off some, allowing him to nestle into an associate's role without ever having to even understand how to calculate the statistics down on the analyst's level.

He was grateful, his skill always lying in dealing with people, often knowing the best place to exactly prick and prod at to get a favoured reaction, and he proudly brought that ability into his work, swindling money from the country's finest CEO's none the wiser that they were talking to someone who had skipped half of his classes in university, relying heavily on his natural intelligence and the occasional blowie for some notes to pass the semester. 

It wasn't Harry's fault he was witty and likeable. He only used it to his advantage, no one could blame him for that. He was more than used to getting what he wanted; coworkers usually more than willing to help him out where they could and kiss at his feet if he so requested, taking whatever he said blindly as the truth. There were only a few select people on this earth that Harry tolerated calling him out on his bullshit, those being his mum, his sister and Sarah, who just so happened to be sitting in front of him doing so right now. 

It had started when they'd both gone down to the analyst's floor, needing to pick up reports from last week to discuss in Harry's next meeting, when he'd made his daily stop at Y/N's desk. She was a nervous little thing, constantly shaking and choking up around him, barely even able to look him in the eye for longer than a second, and Harry would be lying if he said he didn't love to watch her squirm. 

He'd noticed a little origami flower sitting on her desk, which ordinarily Harry may have considered cute, but it was too easy. He had picked it up, watching as she'd rushed to stop him, her face construed in panic, an intense overreaction to a piece of folded paper if you asked him. "Ohh, is this what you were busy learning during your mathematics class in uni?" He didn't wait for her to respond, continuing regardless of her open mouth, clearly ready to speak. "Now your reports make a lot more sense. Maybe you can try and redeem them by folding them into flowers next time? Make them a tad less painful for me to try and decipher, hm?" 

He had watched as her shoulders slumped, her upper lip twitching, and he waited as he always did for her to respond. He kind of hoped one day she would give him a bit more than the pathetic attempt she usually produced to construct a basic sentence, but today hadn't been the day. A tattered "um, I-, well my mother taught… I didn't-," leaving her. He had interrupted her once again, revelling in the way her hand wound into a fist on the desk in front of them, "err, I-, um," he stuttered mockingly, "I'll stop you right there, sweetheart. Wouldn't want you hurting yourself." 

He had twirled the stem of the fake flower between his thumb and forefinger, watching as the glint from the light hitting his ring blinded the girl in front of him momentarily, before popping it in the breast pocket of his silk shirt, turning around without acknowledging her again and winking at a cute red-head sitting on the desk across from Y/N's. 

Sarah hadn't been too impressed, always nagging him to be nicer to the analysts who were slugging their way through their jobs the same way so many of the associates in Harry's team had before being promoted. And well, Harry was nice to them, just maybe not to Y/N. 

"You were awful, H, god. I felt so sorry for the poor girl. Did you see how they all laughed at her as you teased her?" He actually hadn't, to be fair. His teasing wasn't for the entertainment of the office. If anything, it was for his own amusement. He hadn't even noticed them snickering, too busy focusing on the angry flush crawling up Y/N's neck as he spoke and the cute little crease between her eyebrows furrowed in frustration. 

"It's all friendly banter, Sarah. Bet she likes the attention." 

He watched as Sarah's lip raised in disgust, "you're such a pig." Harry was ready for the admonishment he was about to receive, now used to the boring lectures from Sarah, who cared a little too much about everyone around her. One time even going so far as to do thirty minutes of photocopying for one of the pricks on their floor because she felt bad his pet hamster had died. He had come to expect the service, though, going so far as to drop extra work on Sarah's desk each morning for two weeks until Harry had stepped in, too used to people abusing Sarah's kindness, tearing the paper in half right in front of the pricks desk and letting him know where the next lot would be shoved if it ended up on Sarah's desk again. 

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you liked giving her the extra attention in your own narcissistic and fucked up way." Harry scoffs, his own lip drawing to match the pose Sarah's was still stuck in. Sure he liked teasing her, and he liked when her cheeks would flush, and her lips would purse, but what Sarah was insinuating? Absolutely not. She wasn't his type, too vanilla and frankly dull for him. Plus, he usually liked his dates to be able to at least say a complete sentence to him without turning beet red. "Why the fuck would I be attracted to her? She's not my type in the slightest. Have you seen the ugly blouses she wears?" 

Sarah rolls her eyes in response, taking a sip of her steaming coffee and leaning forward on the table in front of him, "c'mon, Haz, she's pretty, and she's smart. I'm not buying into that report bullshit; hers are always the neatest and most accurate, and you know it." 

He did know that.

So what?

He had exaggerated a little bit while talking to her; sue him. "You know you're allowed to find her attractive, right? Even if she’s not your usual type. From what I've heard, she's sweet, a bit fiery even." Not in a million years could he picture the puppy-like girl who blushed when he came near her as fiery. She was too demure, too plain to strike Harry as anything but a quick entertainment fix, and he was beginning to become frustrated with Sarah's pointed stare. "I don't give a fuck. She could be the fucking Beyonce's long-lost sister, and I wouldn't give a fuck about her, so let's just drop it." 

Sighing, Sarah nods, picking up the magazine she'd bought at lunch and begins to read it, leaving Harry to his own thoughts. But now he wasn't so sure. Was she attractive? He guesses she always smelt nice and had a pretty smile from the few times he'd seen her giving it to someone else. She seemed a bit plain, but he knew he's only ever seen her fuming silently at her desk when he was around. While her clothes were often dated and also a bit ordinary, he does recall her wearing a nice pair of Gucci loafers into work one time, but Harry had quickly pounced on that, asking if she had robbed someone to get her hands on them, even though he had actually quite liked them and had gone out and bought a similar pair that weekend. 

Eh, what did it matter? He wasn't going to stop, and he hardly cared if the girl he was teasing was hot anyway. There were plenty of fish in the office for Harry to fry, and the knobby kneed freak wasn't going to be one of them. 

He opens his yoghurt cup, sighing slightly while he eats, thinking how nice his life really was and wondering if that red-head he'd winked at earlier today was single. 

——

Y/N hated getting called into the boss's office, she's not sure she knows anyone that likes it (maybe Harry if he saw it as another chance to manipulate their boss into giving him a holiday house in Prague or whatever his dickish tendencies allowed him to do,) but it reminded her too much of standing in front of her father's desk, receiving a scolding for getting a 'B' rather than an 'A' on her biology exam or for being home five minutes after her curfew. 

The long elevator trip up was spent with an anxious belly and Y/N trying to calm her breathing, each inhale and exhale laboured and unnatural. It's only made worse when the lift stops on Harry's floor, and the man himself steps into the elevator, all flared pants and suspenders, his telltale vanilla scent wafting over the other side of the lift where Y/N is desperately trying to keep her head down so as not to provoke him. 

She feels his stare through the mirrored walls and waits for the barrage of mockery to come, but it never does. Instead, when Y/N glances over at him, she sees him give her a once over, starting down at her brown boots and moving up to her face, where his gaze meets hers. He holds it for a moment, looking between her two irises and squinting his eyes some, prolonging the silence between them before the elevator dings. Without another word, he tears his stare away from her and walks through the open doors onto the associate's floor, a trail of vanilla left behind him. 

Y/N thinks that's the first time she's ever been so close to Harry without him making some comment on the fraying edges of her pants or how her hair was too messy. Why did he not this time? Maybe he was wondering why she was coming up to one of the upper levels, analysts usually not having much cause to travel above their own floor. Perhaps she just didn't look a mess today. She had a bit of extra time to get ready, waking up earlier than usual due to her new kitten tearing up her curtains a whole hour before her alarm. 

Or perhaps it was all a part of his game, which made Y/N even more upset. Was he that desperately cruel that he would allow her to believe she was free from his torture before attacking her again ten times worse? God, she hopes not. She was nervous enough already; the added anxiety of Harry's presence would do nothing to curb the stress frothing in her gut. 

——

Turns out, Y/N had nothing to worry about. While she had stood with her knees knocking in front of the oak desk that her boss, William Garner, leant against, he had delivered her with good news rather than bad. She was getting promoted. And while the initial announcement had sent her into a celebratory spin with her heart soaring and her fingers tingling, the more Y/N thought about it, the more she realised it might not be the best news. 

While it obviously meant she was doing her job well and would be moving from analyst to an associate, it would also mean she would be working on Harry's floor, and she's not sure she could stand his constant berating for the whole eight-hour work day. 

It was bad enough experiencing it for the five or so minutes he would spend on the lower level, but with their offices so close to each other's, she's worried he would take full advantage. So when she's instructed to bring some of her items up into the empty office space on the associate's floor, she does so with her head down and her gaze focused on the box of knick-knacks and folders in her hands, usually stored on or in her desk downstairs. 

The office is a decent size, with a plain desk in the centre and a nice window view down to the streets below. It's a vast improvement from the cramped space she had shared downstairs, with all 'offices' being a bunch of tables in their own two metres by two-metre area, with barely enough room to fit a rubbish bin beside the work surface. It also felt more private, and it worked well for someone like Y/N, who typically liked being alone. 

She briefly holds hope that maybe the enclosed walls would dissuade Harry from his taunting, but her wish isn't long made before he's stepping foot inside the space, the room suddenly feeling tiny and cramped, like both he and Y/N's presences we're bursting at the seams. He takes a moment to look around, his tongue pressing against his cheek before his gaze settles on the woman in front of him, reminding Y/N of a snake about to strike. "Who'd you fuck to get this?" 

Instantly Y/N opposes the notion, her mouth dropping and her eyebrows furrowing in part surprise and disgust, "what? I- no, I didn't… I wouldn't do that." 

He only nods, walking over to the box sitting on the desk behind her and begins to wade through her belongings as if he owned them himself. It almost pisses Y/N off more than the jab he'd delivered on his arrival. "Didn't take you for one to sleep around to get your way to the top, but I guess you continue to surprise me." He motions to the room around him, and Y/N has to actively remind herself to stop grinding her teeth, worried they'd be reduced to stumps within the month if Harry kept his behaviour up. 

She walks around to her chair, sitting down with a sigh and pulls the box away from his wandering hands, somehow managing to get out a complete sentence, something that Harry had not been privy to before. "I didn't sleep with anyone to get here." 

For a moment, he looks shocked, perhaps at the fact she'd actually managed to string together a complete sentence around him- even if it was basically whispered, or maybe he really did believe she had blown Garner to get an office like this. Either way, he drops a picture frame (one of Y/N's grandmother and herself on Christmas) a little too heavily for Y/N's liking back into the box and stands up, tugging on the lapels of his jacket, "I see. Well, that's disappointing, love, because I am quite the gossip." 

She picks up the frame that had just left his hands, checking the glass covering it wasn't smashed and to avoid his sharp gaze, which she's sure is pointed directly at her waiting for a reaction. When he doesn't get one, he continues, "got any secrets I can spread?" She scoffs aloud at that, struggling to contain the obvious reaction. As if he of all people would be the one she would tell her secrets to! She didn't trust him as far as she could throw him. So she takes a moment to glance at him, almost physically recoiling at his expression. If she didn't know the conversation they were having, she'd think he was perfectly content, smirking with a devilish look in his ivy-stained irises. 

She shakes her head. "No? What happened to all that courage you had just a second ago, pet? Seem to be at a loss for words or summat." She feels the telltale heat of embarrassment rushing to her face and looks down at her hands, picking one of the hangnails on the side of her finger. 

He was enjoying this too much, his grin only growing as he realised how uncomfortable she was with his overwhelming presence, his casual lean against her desk feeling villainous and threatening. She really was just too easy. "Maybe you can stick by me. I'll show you the ropes around here and make sure you're nice and comfortable." Instantly her eyes flick up to his, the look of frustration and fear swirling dangerously inside them. For the second time in this little impromptu meeting, Y/N feels courage sweeping up her spine. "I don't want to spend any time with you." She spits. 

He laughs. He actually laughs, the sound hearty and genuine. It takes everything in Y/N not to give him a right piece of her mind, but she's too scared of the repercussions, knowing full well she'd probably end up twisting her words and sounding more like an idiot than ever. So she sits quietly, trying to breathe deeply as she sees him stand up and cross his arms in her peripheral vision. 

He leans even closer to her, and Y/N finds herself wanting to cower, but his alluring gaze and telltale vanilla scent leave her frozen in her place. "You wound me, sweetheart. Be careful what you wish for, love; you just might get it." 

He laughs again, leaving her office. There's a certain emptiness with him gone, and it's the first time in the five minutes he'd been here that Y/N feels as if she could actually breathe. His presence was suffocating, the sentiment he'd left her with almost sounding like a threat. 

Y/N doesn't even want to know what he has up his sleeve.

——

Be careful what you wish for? The more she thought about it, the more it pissed her off. Who did he think he was, the pompous bastard? He was nothing but a bully, and so to spite him, Y/N spends her weekend reciting exactly what she wished for like a mantra. 

In between meals, while she's feeding her cat, while watching TV, Y/N says the same sentence repeatedly, hoping the more she does so, the more likely it would be to come true. 

"I wish Harry Styles would leave me alone." 

—— 

Y/N came into work on Monday bright-eyed, feeling residual confidence from her weekend that would inevitably fizzle out and fade with each second spent in the office. Still, she was using it to her advantage while she could. She dragged her desk closer to the wall, set up her picture frames exactly where she wanted them, and dusted the shelves and filing cabinets that had been there when she'd begun to occupy the space. 

She's only interrupted by a cough behind her, and when she turns, she notices Garner and Harry standing in the doorframe. She immediately blushes, pulling the skirt that had definitely ridden up in her activities and coughs slightly. She notices Harry's eyes quickly avert their gaze to the ground when he sees her doing so (although she can’t imagine why, she doesn’t picture Harry being someone to purposefully protect her modesty like that,) before travelling back up to meet her eyes.

 "Sir! What can.. uh, what can I do for you?" 

While Garner was intimidating, he also had the same kind of energy as a father figure who was strict but kind when needed. For that reason, Y/N quite liked him. He was fair and well-liked, so much so that she'd heard Harry and himself were pretty close, so the sight of both of them standing in her office made her tummy begin to stir. She does her best to calm her breathing, choosing to completely ignore the more infuriating one of the pair and focus on her boss's kind eyes, now looking between herself and Harry. 

"I'm aware it can be a bit intimidating starting in a new team. Harry's brought it to my attention that you'll need to be trained up anyway. So for now, I'd like you to be following him along, attending his meetings and helping him complete his work until you get the hang of things here." Immediately nerves begin to shoot through her body, but she does her best to keep her face void of emotion, only nodding along as he speaks and replying once he is finished. "Sounds good, sir." 

He nods once, looking around her workspace quickly before heading towards the elevators on the other side of the building, leaving herself and Harry alone again. As usual, he's the first to speak, "I warned you, didn't I? You'd get whatever you wished for." He smirks at her, grinning at the disgust smearing across her face, "no, I- I didn't wish for this." 

He feigns shock, looking behind him like he was checking the coast was clear before leaning in slightly, "what did you wish for then, hm? To see me naked?" Harry can't stop the wolfish grin that spreads across his face as a splotchy red flush spreads against Y/N's. 

Y/N didn't think it was very fair. Day after day, she watched Harry waltz towards her, his insults and teasing falling easily and freely from his pink lips like he didn't even have to think twice. He'd drop each jab as if he was sprinkling flour onto Y/N's freshly washed clothes, and no matter how many times she tried to brush them off, it would only smear and leave ugly white streaks. It wasn't fair because she was left a stuttering mess each time she tried to combat his attacks. She tries to tell him she hasn't and would never think of him naked, but she can't. It's like the words are stuck to her tongue like glue; no matter how often she tries to spit them out, it only comes out in sputters, a mash of meaningless words. 

She hated it, she hated him, and she wanted him to leave her office, leave her in peace and leave her alone for good. 

—-

Don't get him wrong, Harry loved to prod at Y/N's exterior, but the way she deflates and looks at the desk in front of her blankly suddenly makes it seem a lot less fun. It was only exciting when he could see her flush and stutter, trying desperately to dispute whatever bullshit he was spitting her way. He didn't feel bad for her, far from, but maybe he didn't want to push her when she clearly didn't feel even up to replying (or trying to, for that matter.) 

So he rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning forward to catch her attention and bring her gaze back to him, "I'm only kidding, Y/N, jesus." She nods, her eyes telling him that she probably didn't find it all that funny, but he didn't really care. At least she wasn't crying on him. 

"I'll send you the stuff for the meetings I have this week. Just try not to fuck it up." 

At this, he exits her office and leaves Y/N, clenching her fists underneath the desk, too angry to do anything else. 

——

The week had gone as well as it could have. Harry had been as friendly as Y/N believed he possibly could be, primarily by just ignoring her. He would drop reports on her desks without saying a word, not acknowledge her emails and simply did his work without bothering Y/N and well, she was relieved. She still didn't quite believe he wasn't capable of returning to his horrible tendencies, so she did her best to avoid him, dropping the work he had asked her to do on his desk when she knew he was out for lunch, sitting as far away from him during meetings as she could, keeping her head down while in her office, and embarrassingly even leaving the break room when she saw him and his little posse enter, scrambling to pick up her yoghurt cup and cookie from the table and eating the rest in her office. 

Which is where she sat now, mindlessly scrolling through her phone before she's interrupted by the sound of footsteps and an overwhelming smell of flowers. She looks up to see Lucy standing in the doorway of her office, a sandwich and an apple in hand. "I've been looking all over for you! Why are you hiding in here?" She looks around the room, her face mixed with confusion and slight disgust. 

While she wouldn't be Y/N's first choice outside of work, she was the only friend she'd made here. Y/N believed it was worth putting up with her obnoxious talking and sometimes questionable opinions if it meant she at least wasn't so alone, knowing full well Harry's teasing had put her on a list of people that her coworkers definitely did not want to make friends with. So, the fact that Lucy was willing to talk to her and help her out meant more than Y/N could imagine. 

As stereotypical as it was, the two women had met at the photocopier, where Y/N had been attempting to copy the notes Harry had sent her when it had jammed. The machine had whirred and whined, letting out a choked sound while Y/N avoided looking up at the rest of the office, knowing full well her face would be bright red as she tried to find the latch where the paper was. It was Lucy who had come to her rescue. While Y/N was shaking with embarrassment and frustration, Lucy had run over in her four-inch heels and quickly pulled open the drawer on the side of the machine, pulling out the jammed piece of paper and closing the drawer before Y/N could even say thank you.

Maybe it was because Lucy had only started two or three weeks before Y/N had and was fairly new herself, or perhaps she just pitied the poor girl, but Y/N appreciated the help nonetheless. 

"Oh, this damn machine, it's the worst! My whole first week, no one told me how easy it jammed- had to figure that out on my own." She'd turned to Y/N, scrunching the piece in one hand while holding her other hand out to Y/N, "I'm Lucy! It's nice to meet- oh, I love your shoes!" Y/N had stuttered slightly, a tad overwhelmed with her bubbly persona, but she'd quickly gotten used to her rambling and talkative nature. 

"Uh, I don't know, didn't want-"

She's interrupted by Lucy herself as she sits down on the chair in front of Y/N's desk, "did you see the shirt Harry was wearing today? You could practically see his pecs with how tight it was!" 

Y/N stops herself from rolling her eyes and fakes a smile. She had, in fact noticed. It was pretty hard to miss. He'd walked into the break room, his red flares catching Y/N's attention immediately and the blue and white striped shirt tight against his arms and chest, a few buttons undone at the top, leaving a peak of the swallows inked against his collarbones. God, she wishes she didn't hate him so much. She may have given herself the time to admire the gentle curve of his bum in the pants and the tuft of hair layered against his chest. She might have given herself the time to imagine licking against the wing tips of each of the birds plastered against his collarbones, and perhaps even the feel of his arms, which Y/N had never realised had any certain appeal until she'd seen the shirt rolled up around the thick muscles. 

What a shame he was such a prick. 

She focuses back on Lucy, nodding slightly in agreement, not even bothering to say something before Lucy begins to speak again. "I can't wait to see what he'll wear to the work drinks this weekend. Are you still planning on coming?" 

Originally, Y/N had no intention of going to the event, finding the eight hours in the office surrounded by the assholes in the workplace bad enough, and imagining spending even longer with them while drunk would be an absolute nightmare. It was only Lucy who had convinced her, telling her how much fun she'd heard they were and what she was planning on wearing. To be honest, Y/N still wasn't convinced, but she thought she could go for an hour or two and come home and change into her pyjamas if it was boring. 

Maybe this would be her chance to form connections with other workers and show them she wasn't just the bumbling idiot Harry reduced her to. "Uh yeah, I'll come for a bit, but-" she's interrupted by the devil himself stepping foot into her office; somehow, another shirt button had opened since she'd last seen him, revealing even more of his chest, which for some reason makes Y/N even angrier. Who did he think he was, flashing his toned chest like it was a fashion show? 

“Hello ladies, planning on coming to the drinks this weekend?” 

Y/N stares blankly as Lucy nods her head so hard, Y/N’s worried it may fall off, but when she looks back to Harry, his gaze is set dead on her, ignoring Lucy entirely. She’s taken back some, feeling the damned flush spoil her cheeks as per usual, “uh, I’m- we don’t-”

He interrupts her, his dimpled grin adorning his face as he lets out a chuckle, his hands sitting comfortably in his pant pockets. “Simple yes or no question, honey. Don’t tell me it’s too hard for your little brain to come up with an answer.” 

She feels frustration bursting in her chest at his rude exterior, the anger spreading directly outwards, warming her arms and hands. “Yes, we’re coming.” She wants to wipe the surprised but pleased look right off his unfairly attractive face, but she doesn’t, only sits with her hands in her lap as she always did. “Well, this will be interesting! won’t believe you can let loose and have fun until I see it.” With that, he stalks out, leaving Y/N to breathe through the anger threatening to bubble over and explode from her throat and Lucy, with her mouth dropped and brows furrowed. 

She turns to Y/N, her face a mixture of disbelief and annoyance, “you did not tell me Harry flirts with you? Does he act like that all the time? He’s never been like that with me!” 

It’s Y/N face that skews into disbelief now, “flirts with me? Lucy, he’s awful. What are you on about?” The woman in front of her is taken aback, and if Y/N wasn’t trying desperately not to offend her, she would roll her eyes at her dramatic tendencies, particularly the gasp she lets out as her hand comes to her chest, like she’s in a period drama or summat. “Awful? You think Harry’s awful? How? He’s so dreamy!” Y/N’s about to actually roll her eyes at this, the sentiment too ridiculous for her not to, but Lucy’s following statement only leaves her confused. “I thought you guys would’ve gotten on very well.” 

There isn’t a universe Y/N could conceive in which Harry and herself would get on ‘well.’ He was a right prick, someone who made every day she worked in the office miserable, all while walking around like he owned the place and all the people within it- and she guessed he did, which annoyed her even more. It was as if he had all of them under his spell, everyone basically kissing the very ground he walked on, and hanging on every accented word of bullshit he spat from his pretty mouth. 

“What? Why on earth would you ever think we’d get on?” Lucy looks at her in awe, confusion clearly muddled through her perfectly plucked brows and beautifully painted lips. “Well, he got you the promotion up here. Fought mighty hard to get you here too.” 

It’s as if Y/N’s whole world stops, and if she wasn’t in the situation she was in, she’d take time to notice how comically she had paused, her mouth agape and her eyes staring dumbly at Lucy. Harry got her the promotion here? Harry who never missed the opportunity to call her dumb or tell her the reports she submitted were sloppy. The same Harry who once told her she didn’t deserve this job and who told her at least once a week that not a thread on her cheap clothing was worth sitting in the building she was in. She didn’t believe it. It just wasn’t possible! 

“What- how do you know that?” 

Lucy looks like she’s lost interest in the conversation, the polar opposite of Y/N, who’s still stuck in the same stunned position- like a shitty street performer or something. “Garner wanted to promote Cheryl, but Harry said you’d be better. He stopped the whole meeting to convince him he was making the wrong decision.” 

Y/N could not believe it. It wasn’t like he’d passively agreed she would be a good candidate for her current position. He had stopped the meeting and directly opposed what Garner had already decided. Granted, their boss hung off Harry’s every word, but still. She didn’t know which she hated more, the fact she owed this job to Harry or this unpredictable side of him. Was this part of a bigger plan Y/N wasn’t aware of? Was he going to hold this against her, or was he just not as bad as Y/N initially thought? 

It was a shock, to say the least. Until now, she genuinely believed Harry thought she was hopeless, and if she didn’t know she’d clam up in front of him, she’d go to his office and ask him herself. 

She wasn’t brave enough though, so instead, she followed Lucy’s lead and slowly began eating again, using the silence between them to ruminate over what she had learnt.  

Her opinion of Harry hadn’t changed, but maybe her expectations of him had.

——

While Y/N’s expectations of Harry had perhaps increased, she was fully aware they may lower again, and she was just waiting for this to be the case.

Turns out she didn’t have to wait long. 

She had spent hours getting ready for the work drinks, changing her pants, her shirt, and then her pants again. Each time the mirror revealed another outfit that wasn’t perfect, and Y/N’s face slowly became more disparaged with each new ensemble. She’d spent much too long trying to perfect her eyeliner, giving up after the third time. Wiping it off and reapplying it, a huff left her as she grabbed a few dry biscuits on her way out to ensure her stomach held something and wouldn’t absorb the alcohol too quickly. 

Why did she care so much? Well, she really couldn’t tell you. She guesses she wanted to impress her coworkers, show them she could dress up a bit outside of work and exceed any low expectations Harry had created for her. Maybe she was just nervous and wanted to feel more confident than usual. Her attempts, however, had been dire. Sitting in the cab on the way to the bar, Y/N felt even more uncomfortable and out of her own skin than ever, the leather seats sticking to her just too hot skin, the wind flowing from the wound-down windows not nearly calming enough.  

It didn’t help that Lucy hadn’t replied to Y/N’s last text either. They had briefly agreed upon a time when leaving work that evening (an hour after the drinks were supposed to start, so they could avoid any awkward niceties), and Y/N had sent her a text to confirm their agreed-upon hour as she was leaving. Yet her phone sat quietly in her bag, the comforting ding of a reply not coming through- not even when Y/N had arrived at the bar and gotten out of the car, now awkwardly waiting in front of the building. 

After fifteen minutes spent battling the wind, Y/N is led to believe that Lucy wasn’t showing up any time soon, so reluctantly, she heads inside and up the stairs on her own. She shoots a brief text to the missing girl, desperately trying to keep her tone light and friendly when realistically, she wants to be anything but. 

Each step towards the upstairs area allows drips of anxiety to seep into Y/N’s tummy, the final step leaving her innards in turmoil as she thinks of what she will face when she arrives. 

When she opens the door, a wave of chatter and music washes over her, working to calm her none, especially as she sees her coworkers scattered around the building, some dancing and laughing, others simply talking. She instantly finds comfort within the bar, standing in front of the wooden panelled bench and ordering herself a drink, praying that Lucy would miraculously show up once she turns around. However, the lack of sound from her phone doesn’t fill her with confidence. 

What was Y/N supposed to do? She couldn’t very well cling to the bar like a lifeline the whole night, but the thought of joining a group already formed didn’t sound so appealing either. Instead, she walks towards the balcony, clinging onto the metal railing, cold against her flushed skin. The vibration of her phone against the banister startles Y/N, but she rushes to reach into her bag; at this point, desperate to know if Lucy is on her way or if Y/N should call it a night and go home to warm pyjamas and her kitten. 

“Sorry, babes! Got caught up, be there in 20 mins!” 

And well, the sound of Y/N’s kitten and a warm pot of tea sounds more appealing as the seconds tick by. What was she supposed to do for twenty minutes by herself? She turns around, the railing digging into her back and tries to find a group she could possibly join in tiding over her loneliness. To the left, it’s a group that Y/N doesn’t recognise, so instantly, she rules them out. Right ahead, it’s a group of men, one whom she recognises as Liam, who she’d hooked up with before he had moved up to the associate’s level. 

It wasn’t anything special, a sloppy blowie in one of the office’s bathrooms after hours, a blowie that led to absolutely nothing but awkward glances while working. Y/N was relieved when he had been moved up to the associate’s level a few weeks later, and to be honest, she’d almost forgotten it had occurred altogether, made easier with the way Liam would avoid her like the plague. Which he seems to be doing now, the man awkwardly glancing over in her direction before quickly averting his gaze when he realises she’s looking. 

Rolling her eyes, she turns to the right, where the melodic voice and full silk outfit are a telltale sign that one of the group members is Harry, facing away from her and chatting with the group in front of him, his broad shoulders slimming down into his narrow waist accentuated by the high waisted pants he was sporting. 

Y/N isn’t one to pry, and she’s about to draw her attention away from the group when the conversation they’re having catches her attention- only because her name is mentioned. 

“Well, I’ll have to keep her away with a ten-foot pole!” He chuckles, taking a sip of what looks like a gin and tonic. It’s Harry’s friend, Adam, who replies. “You really think Y/N’s interested? She walks out of the room every time you enter it.” Harry laughs once again, like every word Adam said was utterly irrelevant. 

Y/N would hug Adam if she could; although he wasn’t admonishing Harry for what he was saying, he was at least arguing that she wasn’t interested in him, and well, god, she wasn’t. 

“She’s just nervous around me, obviously. Although I hope you’re right, it’ll be a weight off my shoulders if I don’t have to worry about her coming onto me. She’s not that ugly, but I do have standards, yeh?” It’s then Y/N notices a woman next to Harry (she thinks her name was Sarah, but she couldn’t be too sure) slap his shoulder, motioning behind him to where Y/N stood, her mouth agape and tears forming in her eyes. 

Y/N couldn’t explain why her heart stopped in her chest or why it felt like she’d just swallowed acid, but it did. She can’t explain it because, for fucks sake, Harry had said worse to her face! But there was something different this time. Y/N was under the impression that Harry disliked her, but she also thought he had purposely antagonised her just to get a reaction. Thought he got off on her blundering and nervous flushes in his own sadistic way. But speaking about her in this way to his friends, when Y/N wasn’t even around to stumble her way through a defence, well, it just felt crueller. More real. More true.

He had no reason to lie, no reason to make this up. 

The very thought of Y/N even finding him attractive despised Harry. And Y/N feels every bit of confidence inside of her shatter. 

She feels herself well up even further as she desperately tries to say something, but all that escapes her mouth is a choked sob, the sound tearing from her chest before she gives it permission.

Quickly turning around, she drops her drink on the closest table and walks swiftly towards the stairs, wanting nothing more than to get away from this god-awful party with the even more awful people inside it. 

——

Harry had fucked up. 

Don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t interested in Y/N, not even close, but even he wasn’t so cruel to not feel guilty after she’d heard him speaking about her as he had. 

The look on her face had felt like a knife to the chest, the tears welling up in her eyes and the tremble of her chin twisting it deeper into his chest, bit by bit. She looked so heartbroken and helpless, and the second she turned around and jogged off, Harry followed her, calling out for her to stop. 

Maybe she was ignoring him, or perhaps she just genuinely couldn’t hear him, but she didn’t slow down in the slightest, running all the way down the stairs and out the front with Harry on her heels. It’s only when she steps outside does she respond to his frantic yelling, spinning around and scaring him with the intensity in her eyes as she practically yells at him. “What?” 

He takes a step back, shocked by the aggressive tone, which honestly Harry would’ve expected from anyone else, but not the puppy-like girl he loved to tease. He continues nonetheless, the guilt and sympathy in his eyes only working to make Y/N even angrier. 

The only solace for her is that this time, it’s Harry that’s the one stuttering. 

“I- Uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t-” as Harry had so many times before, Y/N interrupts him in the middle of his pathetic attempt at an apology, the anger boiling beneath her skin, finally being released.

“How fucking dare you. I can’t believe you! Seriously, how old are you?” She pauses to run her hands through her hair, frustration overcoming her so much it feels as if it’s becoming her, the feeling overwhelming and unwelcome. 

“As a grown adult, I usually have a conversation with someone if I’m that concerned about being around them.” She takes another moment to take a breath, the feeling of finally speaking her mind to him allowing a sense of relief to flood her veins, but it’s quickly replaced by anger again as she watches him struggle to find words, as she so often had around him. 

“Y/N, listen, please.” 

She takes a moment to realise it’s the first time he’s ever called her by her name, previously under the impression that he simply hadn’t known it, but the fact he had and purposely chose nicknames he knew would piss her off, causes her to lose her temper once more. 

“No. You listen to me, Harry. You’re a prick who doesn’t give a fuck about anyone around you, particularly me. You’re rude and juvenile, and I can’t stand even being in the same room as you, let alone dating you! I wasn’t interested in you before I heard you speaking about me like a pig, and I’m certainly not interested in you now.” She watches as his face falls with each passing sentence, actively squashing the slight sense of sympathy she feels for him, before picking the strap of her bag up and placing it back on her shoulder.

“Seriously, Harry, don’t stress. You have absolutely nothing to worry about.”

At that, she turns around and walks away, leaving Harry standing in front of the bar. For the first time in what feels like forever, guilt wracks Harry’s body, the feeling so alien he clutches his hand to his chest and takes a deep breath. 

What the fuck had he done? 

——

The weekend felt grey. Heavy clouds covered the blue, leaving a dreary feeling to slink through the windows and into Y/N’s apartment. All colours felt muted and dull, even the pot plants she had dotted around the place looking droopy and sad. 

She wasn’t the type to feel sorry for herself, but there was something so heartbreaking about how Friday night had panned out. She didn’t necessarily care what Harry thought about her, she knew he was a prick, and his actions the previous night had only confirmed this. She guesses it was just a knock to her confidence, the same confidence she had spent so many years building and strengthening. She was sure of who she was, but sometimes it was hard when people would pick out the weak parts of her and use them against her.

Was she really that undesirable? 

Was the idea of her affection such a burden to others that the very prospect worried them? Y/N didn’t want to know, and she was trying desperately not to think of it but was failing miserably. Not even Moose, her little tabby kitten, could cheer her up. His mischievous and naughty nature made the little tike a right handful, but Y/N hardly cared at the moment, watching him tear at a loose strand of her carpet until even Moose had lost interest, choosing instead to lay on her lap, asleep. 

When she arrived at the party, Lucy had messaged her, but Y/N hadn’t replied. Too caught up and tired to explain the whole situation, and perhaps a little embarrassed, particularly when Lucy had messaged her upset that the man in question wasn’t present at the work drinks as he had promised. 

Y/N briefly wondered if he had gone home after their tiff, slightly surprised by the idea. She didn’t think he’d care, choosing to believe that his guilt-ridden tone was nothing but a ruse. Once again, she’s left wondering if her expectations of him were too low, but like kindling catching fire, the memory of his spiteful words roars into her mind leaving her skin burning and her eyes watering, doing nothing to put out the fiery anger broiling in her chest. 

Not even Sarah, Harry’s friend, could change her view of him. On Monday, when Y/N was waiting for the kettle in the communal kitchen to boil, a presence behind her had scared her. It was Sarah, with her warm smile and soothing voice, standing with her hands cupping her elbows, the gesture clearly an attempt to calm her nerves. And Y/N’s not surprised. The last time she’d seen the woman standing in front of her was when her best friend was exclaiming very loudly about how undesirable he found Y/N. 

She wasn’t sure what on earth Sarah could want with her. She didn’t know her all that well and was briefly concerned she would show the same tact as Harry and rub his teasing directly into her face. However, what Sarah says takes her by surprise. 

“Hi. I just wanted to apologise for what H said on Friday night. It was horrible and so unfair. I’m sorry he did that, and if it’s worth anything, I ripped into him after you left.” 

Y/N’s fully aware that the shock was written very clearly across her face, the only thing breaking her out of her reverie was Sarah herself, a small cough leaving her throat, her eyes filled with nerves as she awaited for any sort of reply.  

“Uh…” but what was Y/N supposed to say? She wasn’t inclined to say it was okay because it definitely wasn’t, and she was not about to let Harry off the hook that quickly. “Yeh, it was pretty awful.” Sarah’s quick to nod in agreement, her wide eyes earnest, leaving Y/N to believe she genuinely did feel bad. “I know. It really wasn’t like him at all. He’s not nearly as bad as he seems, I promise.” 

Y/N laughs now, in disbelief, uncomfortable in the current situation- with the woman in front of her clearly friendly and caring, apologising on behalf of a man who was anything but. Sarah smiles now, reaching out to squeeze Y/N’s hand gently before crossing her own arms once again, “I know. You don’t believe me, and I don’t blame you.” She looks around as if she’s checking the coast is clear before she leans in, her voice dropping a decibel or two. “Between you and me, I think he was talking absolute shit when he said that stuff about you. In fact, I’m not even sure he had himself convinced.” Y/N’s about to ask Sarah exactly what she meant by that, but Sarah’s phone rings before she can. The woman excused herself and ran out, answering the phone with a gentle “hello?” As she leaves the room. 

It left Y/N alone with her own thoughts. What was she to make of what Sarah had told her? Honestly, she didn’t believe he didn’t mean what he had said. 

 If Y/N was being honest, this whole interaction told her everything she needed to know about Sarah but did absolutely nothing to change her opinion of the man in question. 

She hated the idea of him. She hated his voice, his disgusting way of speaking about her. She hated his stupid silk shirt and sparkly rings. She hated the way his voice wavered as he tried to apologise. She hated how his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth skewed around his lie. 

Y/N hated everything about him. 

Y/N fucking hated Harry fucking Styles. 

——

The morning felt grey. The black clouds in the sky matched the bags under Harry’s eyes almost perfectly, and if it wasn’t for the coffee burning Harry’s hands, he’s not sure he’d even be able to stay awake. It was one of those days when Harry wanted to return to bed the second he’d gotten out of it. The only thing that had motivated him to wake up and get himself here, in front of the lift in the office, was the idea that he could come back home and slip into the silk sheets again in the evening. 

He takes another sip of the coffee, the bitter brew burning his tongue, and if Harry was in a better state of mind, he might have even reacted. Instead, he stares blankly at the lift doors, waiting for them to open so he can begin his ascent. 

He wasn’t one to regret his actions, and he wasn’t one to ruminate over poor decisions he’d made, but he couldn’t help but feel guilty over how the events on Friday night had unfolded. It was almost impossible to forget the broken stance Y/N had shown when he had turned around, the same stance he’s almost sure he would’ve mirrored immediately. He didn’t necessarily like the girl, but fuck, he wasn’t a monster. The same scene had replayed in Harry’s head all weekend, and if he didn’t get it to stop soon, he’d go insane. 

Finally, the lift opens, and he steps inside, pressing the button to the associate’s floor and leaning against the back wall, his gaze trained solely on his Gucci loafers against the tiled floor. The sound of stilettos against that same floor catches his attention, as well as the familiar scent he often thought about, all clean linen and citrus. When he looks up at the lift doors closing in front of him, the gap showing the lobby is quickly replaced by the reflection of the same eyes he had watched well up Friday night. 

He almost drops his coffee in surprise, getting a grip again when her gaze meets his and then quickly shakes it, moving instead to the floor Harry had just been looking at. Following her line of sight, he takes a moment to realise exactly what she’s wearing, red bottomed heels (surely they weren’t Louboutins,) a professional-looking black dress ending mid-calf and a beautiful black jacket to match, black fur lining the cuffs and hem. She looked… good? 

Harry had never considered himself a psychic, but god, it didn’t take someone in tune with the metaphysical to feel the rage radiating off of Y/N. It was palpable, so much so that Harry’s sure if he reached out in front of him, he could feel it, perhaps even taste it on his tongue. He only realises he’s staring when he catches a look that could kill a weaker man than he, her filled eyebrows creasing in the centre of her face and her pretty lips being pulled into a snarl.

But Harry wasn’t weak, and he never claimed to be very smart either. 

“Y/N, I- can we talk about what happened last week?”

Well, if Harry thought the look he had received before could kill a man, this one could kill ten. The intensity of her stare almost causes Harry to flinch, but he stands firm, his hand reaching out towards her in a calming gesture, trying desperately to plead to her rationale. 

Luckily for Y/N, she’s saved by the bell; the obnoxious ding of the elevator had never sounded sweeter. She gives the man in front of her one final poisonous look before storming out of the lift. 

“I don’t want to hear it.” 

—— 

Y/N’s proud. She didn’t think she would ever even be able to string together a sentence around the prick consuming her thoughts, and now he was the one fumbling at her feet, struggling to form a coherent thought in her presence. 

If she wasn’t so upset by what he had said, she might have taken the time to bask in the power she wielded, maybe even used it to her advantage. Alas, she’s too frustrated, too angry to even be near him, let alone gloat at him. Instead, she takes for silent high-fives to herself each time she successfully avoids him, a quick pat on the back when she promptly ignores his apologies and a second to bask in the glory each time she feels him give her a look filled with guilt and regret. 

But her eminence is quickly overturned when Harry himself walks through her office door. He’d given up trying to apologise a few days ago, instead adopting Y/N’s tactic of avoiding every situation in which they’d need to be together, so his presence took her by surprise.

Instantly she goes to berate him, “get ou-,” but he interrupts her. 

“Relax, I’m just here for work. Garner has assigned us to look at the Andrews case together.” Harry has to grit his teeth at the look of absolute disgust that crosses her face, but he couldn’t very well chastise her for something like that, could he? 

“What?” She’ll never know why the world seemed to have turned against her in the last 72 hours. “Why do we both have to do it?” 

Y/N watches as he obviously attempts to stop his eyes rolling back into his head. “You handled the case when you were on the analyst’s floor, and it’s been dealt to me. Doesn’t make much fuckin’ sense, so he’s asked us to do it together.” 

She was a good person. She worked hard, paid her taxes, she volunteered at her local dog shelter each summer; why was the universe out to get her? 

“I don’t want to do it with you.” 

Harry can hardly help the fake smile that overtakes his features, his temper beginning to get the better of him. He’d fucked up, he knew that, but he was trying his damn hardest to be professional, and her teenager pity party really wasn’t helping the situation. 

“Great. Should you go tell Garner that, or shall I?” 

He had won. He knew he had, her shoulders slumping and lips tightening over her teeth. She may not have been happy about it, but she realised he was right- they didn’t really have a choice. 

Harry sits down on the chair in front of her desk that she pushes outwards with her foot, motioning with her hand for him to take a seat in a way so blasé it only works to bring Harry’s temper up further. 

It seemed Garner was the one that had fucked up this time- how they were supposed to work together on the project without killing each other, Harry didn’t know. 

——

Y/N didn’t think her day could get any worse. 

She’d been in a rush to get to work this morning, eating a tub of yoghurt with so much honey she had failed to realise it was very much out of date. While rushing out the door, she had pushed her favourite little pot right off her shelf, causing it to shatter into a hundred pieces on the floor- surrounded by the plant’s guts and dirt. The rush to pick up the sharp pottery so her kitten wouldn’t hurt himself on them and sweep up the dirt had left her to be late for work- rushing up the stairs and into the elevator with beads of sweat rolling down her back.

And what was to meet her when she finally got into her office, but Harry himself, sitting in her chair. 

“You’re late.” 

Y/N wishes she could say she handled this taunt with grace, but her shitty morning mixed with her growing comfortability around him, meant she definitely didn’t. “Fuck off and get out of my chair.” 

While Harry loved the way Y/N stuttered and stumbled around him, he almost loved it more now that she griped back at him. He wasn’t sure if the cruelty of his actions had led her so far past the edge that she didn’t care anymore or if spending time with him on the Andrews case had allowed a certain familiarity to form between them. Whatever it was, he loved that now when he teased her, she would come up with her own jab at him, asking if he’d looked at himself in the reflection of his overly priced and overly shined shoes when he’d asked what was wrong with her hair on Wednesday after she had unfortunately gotten stuck in the wind. 

He loved it even more, when she didn’t even bother to come up with a witty comeback, hissing a “fuck off” at him with a face that could startle a bear and so much venom in her voice that sometimes it even surprised him. 

“Well, looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the crypt this morning!” He says as he stands up, walking around her desk and leaning against the side of it, forcing her to turn and face him directly to fit herself between him and the wall to get to her chair. 

As she passes him, she takes a moment to look him up and down, noting the white boots, lime green pants and blue wool jumper. “Is your stylist a small, untalented five-year-old girl or?” 

Harry can’t help the cackle that leaves him, watching the small smile fill her face that she tries to conceal as she places her handbag on the desk and takes a seat, turning on the computer without looking at him as he replies. 

“Uh, his name is Harry Lambert. He’s a genius actually- styles for Milan and everything.” Y/N didn’t care if she was being honest, the subtle flex not impressive in the slightest when looking at this outfit. However, what does surprise her is that he actually has a stylist, but well, of course, he fucking does. 

“You actually have a stylist?” 

Harry nods, “Yes. How else would you explain my model-worthy looks?” For the first time, Y/N cracks a genuine smile, thinking of all the awful things she could say to him. In the end, she says, “do you really want me to answer that?” 

Ignoring her, Harry walks around her office, flicking one of the fake plants on the corner of her desk, screwing up his nose. 

“Did you come into my office for a specific reason, or did you just want to annoy me?”

He turns to face her completely, waving the file in his hand towards her as if it was a trophy, “ah, yes. Although I do enjoy the latter, I came in to let you know I set up that meeting with Andrews tomorrow to present our recommendations.” 

Y/N feels apprehension drip down her spine and into her stomach. Her first meeting was always going to be a source of anxiety, but doing one with Harry seemed to make it worse. Unfortunately for her, Harry catches the look of uneasiness that crosses her face, briefly wondering if he should take it easy on her. He decides not to. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re scared. I would say you have nothing to be nervous about, but, well…” he motions to her with his hand, a look of dismay on his face. 

If he was being perfectly honest, Y/N had actually been pretty easy to work with, a bit nervous and confused, but that was to be expected- it was her first few weeks in the new position, after all. But she was intelligent and asked the right questions, taking the initiative to complete tasks Harry himself hadn’t even thought of yet. All of her reports were labelled and printed on lined paper, not a dot point out of place or a spelling mistake in sight. He didn’t know if she’d done it purposefully or not, but he could even smell a distinct perfume on each sheet as if she’d sprayed each one individually. 

Harry would never say anything like this to her, though, choosing instead to nitpick her work until she rolled her eyes or snapped at him or he would just blatantly ignore her- it depended on his mood. 

—— 

Y/N could feel anxiety rising in her chest, the feeling swelling and ballooning in her throat, causing each breath to be laboured and heavy. 

She forces herself to take them anyway as she sits on the floor of her office with her legs crossed and her hands resting on each knee. Slowly, Y/N forces herself to calm her breathing in an attempt to ground herself. Rather than focusing on the suffocating feeling within her lungs, she paid attention to her body, the way she was sitting, the way the cheap carpet scratched against her legs, bare thanks to the tight skirt that had rolled up in her position. Taking a moment, she notices how her hair is brushing against her back, how her clothes feel resting against her skin, and how the weight of each of her limbs presses her further into the ground. 

Counting each breath that enters her body and each that leaves her, Y/N feels her muscles relaxing, a sense of zen replacing the stifling worry that had previously occupied the space. 

Her first meeting with Harry was only twenty minutes away, and while Y/N knew she could do it, it didn’t stop the pressure from getting to her. Scenarios of her fucking up kept playing on repeat until she forced herself to leave the break room in a flurry, cutting Harry off as he broke down the brief she had already read ten times through. 

While meditating had allowed her mind to float outside of her body for a moment, the sound of her office door opening sends it straight back into place, her eyes flying open while she scrambles to stand- not prepared for Harry to ask why she was sitting on the floor of her office like a petulant child. But it’s not Harry that enters, but rather Lucy, the smell of flowers and cheap lipstick following her. 

She doesn’t even ask any questions, which Y/N silently thanks her for. Instead holds out her hand for Y/N and helps her up, brushing an invisible bit of lint from her shoulder as she does so. Lucy’s stare begins to become uncomfortable, her green eyes piercing as they wait for Y/N to say something, anything really. 

“Lucy, I- sorry.”  

Lucy’s perfectly manicured eyebrows twist in confusion for a moment, “for what? Think you scared Harry more than anyone else.” 

Y/N nods her head, imagining how it had looked from his perspective, “the meeting. I just, I’m not sure I can do it.” Shockingly, the red-headed woman in front of her only scoffs, “Jesus Y/N. I know you’re scared, but if anyone can do it, it’s you. We all know you deserved that promotion more than anyone. I know it, Garner knows it, and even Harry does. He wanted you up here for a reason, girl, and honestly, I think you surprised everyone.” 

Y/N feels herself smiling and shaking her head in confusion, “surprised you?” Lucy nods solemnly, “how?” 

She looks up, pondering her next words carefully. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but the most we’d heard from you was the shy and flustered muttering you’d say to Harry occasionally. The fact you came up here, more than capable, smart and confident, shocked everyone. You’re damn good at this job, Y/N. You should’ve been promoted long before half of us.” 

Y/N didn’t know this was how the others felt about her. While she wasn’t too impressed that people actually had seen her as Harry had tried to portray her, the fact that she had proven herself worthy of a position here made her ego inflate, a sense of elation filling her chest. This was the nicest Lucy had ever been to her and the longest she’d spent talking about anyone but herself, and Y/N couldn’t be more grateful. 

“Okay, I think I just need to relax. I can do it.” Lucy nods along, “if it makes you feel any better, I accidentally asked the client if he’d give me sex rather than ‘a sec’ in my first meeting. I’m still here, and while it was embarrassing, I got through it!” 

Y/N bursts out laughing, the idea of a bright red Lucy standing in front of a board of powerful people asking for sex relieving the tension she feels some. 

“Thank you, Lucy, really. I appreciate it.” 

She brushes it off, shaking her head, “you’ve got this girl. Now go find Harry before he has a conniption.” 

Y/N nods, pulling her skirt down and leaving the office, a renewed sense of confidence and serenity filling her. 

But who was to walk around the corner when Y/N was feeling the first shred of confidence she’d experienced in the year she’d worked here but Harry himself. Only it’s not his presence that surprises her most. No, it’s the instant burning feeling against her chest as his steaming cup of coffee is spilt down the front of her shirt, her freshly pressed, cream fucking shirt. 

Y/N stifles the pained yelp that threatens to leave her, only leaning forward and pulling the burning cloth away from her no doubt red skin, looking up to see Harry in shock before her, looking at the mess he’d made from his clumsiness. The surprise on his face was replaced by relief for a second, “Y/N!” 

Still in shock and now in pain, she doesn’t acknowledge him, “fuckin’ hell.” She groans, rushing towards the women’s bathrooms next to the elevators. 

She hears Harry following behind her, so close she almost turns around and scolds him for not giving her space when she clearly needed it. 

“Are you okay?” 

She feels as if he’s not just referring to the potential burn she was currently feeling the effects of. When he doesn’t receive a reply, he follows her straight into the bathroom, ignoring the startled yelp and dirty look Martha, whose office sat across from Y/N’s, gave him. 

Y/N heads straight for the paper towels on the wall, running some under cold water and rubbing at the substantial brown stain covering the front of her chest. As she does so, she watches Harry’s face in the mirror, still reflecting his own shock and, if she didn’t know any better, guilt. She jumps when he interrupts her, “no, no! Dab, don’t rub. This is silk. It’ll never come out like that!” 

Y/N doesn’t say anything, just gives him a quizzical look as she changes her strategy, dabbing gently at the stain rather than rubbing it. She was awfully confused. While she and Harry had been getting along better, he also isn’t the type to care so much about anything regarding her. In fact, she’s almost surprised he didn’t laugh in her face at the first drop that had left his mug. But looking at him now with his face in his hands, she’s left bewildered. “What’s wrong? It’s just a stain.” 

Harry looks at her as if she’s insane, his hands held out in front of him, his eyebrows screwed up in disbelief, and his pretty pink lips gaping apart like a fish. “The meeting Y/N! The fucking meeting!” He begins to pace, and Y/N realises her mistake. He wasn’t concerned for her well-being or even the well-being of the overpriced silk button-up she was wearing. No, he was only concerned with himself and the meeting they were supposed to present in less than fifteen minutes. Of fucking course.

“Uh, okay. I’ll… I’ll run home and grab a different shirt while you start the meeting without me.” 

He interrupts her as she finishes her sentence, “no!” She looks at him quizzically once again, waiting for some sort of explanation or a better idea from him. “I can’t do it without you.” Y/N watched as a light pink blush swept across his cheekbones, his gaze averted as his following words came out softer, “besides, we don’t have time. You’d never make it back before I finished the meeting.” 

Y/N feels her gaze soften slightly at that because, god, she never thought that the Harry Styles would be telling her he couldn’t complete a meeting without her, but here she was, in all her coffee-stained glory. “I might have a shirt or something in my car that you can use.” 

Well, he did have a shirt, a whole range of shirts, actually. From women’s blouses to men’s graphic tees, he seemed to have a sort of wardrobe in his back seat, the organised chaos a stark difference from what Y/N can see as a sparkling front seat. She didn’t want to know how or why he had some of the items he did. Still, none seemed to work, all a bit too small or casual for their business meeting, until Y/N is ushering Harry to stop looking, whining that they only had “five minutes left,” while the bottom half of him hung out the side of the back door, and the front half frantically searched for something that could work. 

“Aha! This is the one I was looking for.” He pulls out a linen shirt, similar to the one she was previously wearing in cut and style, only this was white. It was slightly crinkled, a symptom of being smushed in the backseat of his car, she imagines, but he was right- it might just work. There’s an awkward pause as Harry waits for her to try it on, and Y/N waits for him to turn around, covered enough from prying eyes in the corner of the car park and behind his door but completely exposed to his gaze. She looks at him expectantly, watching as the realisation crosses his face, and for the first time ever, Y/N believes she’s caught him off guard, an embarrassed red hue flushing his cheeks. 

As he turns to face the other way, Y/N unbuttons the spoiled shirt and replaces it with Harry’s, his cologne still weaved in the fabric as she tosses it over both shoulders and does the buttons up before trying to look in the reflection of his shiny black sedan to see if it looked presentable. 

To be honest, it was a little tight on her breasts, just toeing the line of inappropriate for a corporate workplace, but it would have to do. The only other option was her now coffee-coloured dress shirt or Harry’s ‘I’d love to fellate George Harrison’ tee, which she’s sure HR would be really interested in hearing about if she chose to wear into a meeting that could potentially bring the company millions. 

“Y’done?” 

Y/N sighs, trying to tame some of the flyaways that had escaped in their flurry as she replies, “yeah.” 

He turns instantly, his gaze immediately dropping to her breasts straining against the fabric, “jesus Y/N.” 

She takes a moment to look at him with admonishment, “it’s the best we can do. Let’s hope the board aren’t a bunch of fucking lechers like you.” 

He followed behind her, skipping slightly to keep up with her fast pace, set due to the time crunch they were currently under. “I am not a lecher! I didn’t mean it. They were just fuckin’ there! Why would I be staring at your tits anyway?” He exclaims, putting emphasis on the ‘your.’  Y/N promptly ignores the slight jab, entering the lift and turning around to face the front, pulling at the shirt away from her still sticky chest without much thought, unsure if she’s trying to lessen the amount of cleavage visible or keep the clean shirt away from her coffee-stained skin. 

He enters behind her watching her movements for a second, his brows furrowed and his mouth set in a frown, before reaching forward, surprising Y/N when he grabs her wrists lightly and puts them down by her side. The touch is so gentle and considerate that she has to check it was him that was still holding her wrists, “it looks fine, Y/N. I’m just bein’ a prick.” 

She looks him in the eyes, the most genuine and earnest she’d ever seen them, taking a moment to notice the darker green ring surrounding his iris and nods slowly. Harry wasn’t usually so kind to her.

They are so close to each and Y/N can’t quite place whether it was her or Harry who had moved to make it so. For a moment, they just stand there staring at each other, Y/N suddenly becoming hyper-aware of the tightness of his hands around her wrists and the way a flush is creeping up the smooth skin of Harry’s cheek. Y/N is struck by how pretty Harry really was, his top lip forming the perfect arch of his cupids bow, the tiny mole in the corner of his mouth, the gentle flop of his hair and his striking but gentle eyes, flicking between her own and to Y/N’s surprise her lips- so quickly she almost misses it. 

The air feels thicker, and as Harry’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, Y/N feels the space become stifling and uncomfortable. 

This is Harry. She’s not supposed to feel a tightening in her tummy at the way the artificial light of the elevator makes his pink lips glisten, or the way his hands are beginning to feel sweaty due to how tightly they’re wound around her wrists.

She steps back slightly, breaking the intense stare they were sharing, and Harry does the same, dropping her hands, coughing lightly and turning awkwardly back to the lift doors waiting for them to open. 

Y/N actively avoids his gaze in the mirrored walls of the lift, only moving when the doors slide open. The energy in the confined space seemed to have momentarily slowed time, but the second she left, the urgency of their situation rolled over her in full force. 

Without a word, they both go to their offices, grab the files they need and meet back in front of the meeting room door. 

He looks down at her, the same gentle look in his eyes that was present in the elevator, the gentle slope of his nose and crinkles surrounding his eyes leaving her bewildered, not yet used to the tender gaze. 

“You ready?” 

With a silent nod from her, he opens the door, motioning with his ring-clad hand for her to enter, following close enough behind her that she can feel the lapels of his jacket brushing her arm. 

And suddenly, she finds herself in a room full of people, all holding the fate of her job in their hands- her only salvation, the painfully arrogant man standing behind her. 

——

The meeting had gone well. So well, in fact, that Y/N could hardly believe it herself. Everything still felt a little surreal. The way Harry had acted in the meeting was inconceivable, treating her as a partner. An equal.

He’d not once spoken over her or corrected her but instead would ask her for confirmation on their recommendations or her own findings on specific stocks. He even chuckled at all her (probably miserable) attempts at lighthearted humour, inciting rumbling laughter from the much older and much more experienced board sitting in front of them. 

Even the way Garner had entered her office with a smile bigger than she’d ever seen from him plastered on his face, and a new project for her to jump onto immediately felt unbelievable. 

Y/N would carry this weightlessness with her all the way to two weeks later, where she just happened to be sitting at her desk, the office the type of quiet you could only find when everyone had gone home while the blaring ten o’clock from her phone was mocking her for her foolishness. She hadn’t meant to stay this late; she really hadn’t. But god, she didn’t want to let Garner down after her first presentation with Harry had gone so well. And if she was being perfectly honest, this case was much more complex than the one she had just completed, only made more challenging without the albeit annoying but ultimately experienced and helpful eye of Harry watching over each decision she made. 

She felt like she’d been thrown into the deep end here. Was everyone expected to do one assisted case and then given another to do all by themselves? 

One that could potentially cost the company millions? 

Y/N was stressed. She’d long passed the point of caring, leaving her uncomfortable heels in front of her desk and letting her hair out of the way too-tight ponytail it had been occupying during the day, rubbing her eyes out of frustration. 

She could tell Garner how much she was struggling, but she didn’t very well want to do that. It was hard enough being the newbie on the office floor, let alone the newbie that complains the second something becomes slightly complicated. 

No. Y/N could do this. She knew she could. She just had to dig deep and perhaps get another cup of coffee to get her through. 

What she doesn’t expect when walking towards the kettle is the very man that had been occupying her thoughts since the meeting had ended to walk right around the corner. 

Harry looked as if he could be walking into the workplace at 8am on a Monday morning, his skin glowing, hair perfectly coiffed, and his clothes looking freshly pressed, a stark contrast to what Y/N imagines she looks like with her crinkled skirt, bare feet and messy hair. 

“Harry? What on earth are you doing here this late?” 

He looks as surprised as she probably did, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he tilts his chin, looking behind her as if the reason she was also here at such a time was hidden behind her. 

“Could ask the same of you. Garner finally getting you to pay him back for that promotion?” She can’t help but roll her eyes at the statement, one she now would usually cop on the chin and reply with something like, “no, he said he was too worn out from his go with you,” but she was too tired. Instead, she lets out a humourless chuckle and continues her journey to the kettle, hoping that a fresh mug would give her the energy she needs to deal with the asshole now behind her. 

“What, not in the mood to play with me tonight, hm?” 

At this, she turns around, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of the hot beverage she’d just poured herself, “unfortunately not.” It’s then something clicks in her mind, and Harry watches as her eyes widen and she stands a little straighter. “Actually, I heard that maybe it shouldn’t be Garner that I should be thanking for my promotion.” 

It takes Harry a second to catch on, his mind whirring through possibilities of what she could be talking about before he realises, and then a teasing look comes across him, and Y/N knows whatever he has to say next, she probably won’t like. 

“Wait, are you offering me a blowie?” He says with faux shock, his eyes glinting with a playful look as pure shock (and annoyance) flits across Y/N’s face. 

“In your dreams, asshole.” Harry can’t contain the smirk that fills half his face. 

“How’d you know?” 

Y/N tries desperately to stop the flush that overcomes her but knows she fails when Harry only looks at her gloatingly. This new relationship she and Harry were walking into was dangerous territory- one full of flirty advances and looks that Y/N doesn’t know if she has the strength to decipher. 

It was like something had shifted in the elevator. Harry hardly ever made fun of her anymore, and if he did, it felt like he was inviting her to laugh with him rather than laughing at her. Each poke and prod followed by a look that for some inexplicable reason leaves Y/N blushing.

She chooses instead to ignore his jabs, and walk back to her office, sure there was plenty more she could do with her time than entertain his playful taunting. 

The quick pad of his footsteps behind her tells Y/N her plan may not work out. 

As she sits at her desk and focuses her attention back on her computer, she feels the overwhelming gaze of Harry, standing in the doorway and his low voice interrupts her once more. “What are you actually doing here this late? Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, saving stray kittens or summat?” Y/N actually laughs at this, and Harry has to stop his own flush from spreading to his cheeks. 

“I should be, yes. But I’m stuck trying to figure out the Davis case. It’s all a bit up in the air, and Garner wants it done by Monday.” 

 Harry frowns, “so why are you here at ten pm?” 

Y/N scowls slightly like it should be obvious, “I can’t figure it out.” He nods, “well, lemme have a look,” as if it wasn’t a big deal. Like by doing that, he wasn’t putting himself out, doing extra work that wasn’t his at ten pm on a Tuesday.

She’s quick to refuse his help, not doing much as he gently pushes her chair away from the desk and occupies the space for himself, “no, Harry, you don’t have to do that! Really, I can figure it out.” 

Y/N fights away the feeling of déjà-vu as she’s taken aback by his proximity when he turns slightly, so close his breath tickles her lips as his eyes flicker down to look at them, “it’s fine, Y/N,” he rolls his eyes.

Perhaps if she wasn’t so stunned by his actions, she’d have the strength to refuse again. Instead, she merely nods, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself down. What on earth had gotten into her? Two times in one month, she’d thought about kissing him, and two times in one month, she’d actually wanted to. 

Y/N could smell Harry’s cologne as he typed away at the computer in front of her, each movement of his deft fingers sending another gust in her direction. Y/N feels her stomach tighten as he gently pulls at his lip as he reads the text infront of him, his eyes darting back and forth. The only thing that draws her attention away from his lips is the text notification from her phone. 

She forced herself to pull away from him, hoping whoever had texted her might pull her back into reality and knock some sense into her spinning head. However, the text she receives only works to confuse her further when she notices it’s from Liam. 

Why in the ever living fuck would Liam be texting her? He hadn’t spoken to her since she’d sucked him off in the office bathroom, their last interaction consisting of him giving her some paper towel to wipe the cum off her fingers, and now he was messaging her? He’d ignored her for months. What was she supposed to do with the ‘hey! I was wondering if you wanted to go out for a drink sometime?’ she’d just received. 

It’s then Harry notices the girl beside him, frozen and looking at her phone, puzzled. He directs his attention toward her, leaving the computer in favour of whatever seems to be capturing her attention. 

“What’s wrong?” 

How could Y/N explain this? Liam had asked her not to tell anyone what had happened, and she’d respected his wishes, but now she was just confused. Not just confused, Y/N was angry. He really thought he could treat her like dirt and then waltz back into her life, asking her out once the boss looked at her favourably? Fuck no. Why was she doing him any favours in the first place? 

“Uh, it’s Liam.” 

Harry pauses, taking a second to process what she’d said. “Liam? As in Liam Payne? You mean the wanker with the middle part and leather jacket, Liam Payne?” 

She can’t help but giggle, and Harry revels in the way the furrow in her forehead softens slightly. Nodding, Y/N confirms Harry’s suspicions and leaves him desperately wanting to know why a prick like Liam even had the chance to text her. Why did someone like that have her number when even he didn’t? 

“What’s he doing texting you? ‘Specially at this time of night. Don’t tell me you’re fucking him!” 

Y/N screws up her nose and shakes her head a little too quickly for Harry to believe he’s entirely off the mark, and he tries desperately hard to keep the judgement off his face. It wasn’t like Liam was entirely insufferable, just known for fucking girls around and being particularly lazy at work. 

And well, Harry didn’t exactly have a leg to stand on there, but at least no one could ever call him lazy. 

He waits for Y/N to speak again, can practically see the gears turning in her head as she thinks of what to tell him. “We didn’t have sex.” She glances up quickly to gauge his reaction, only being met with the indifferent look he usually sported, so she continues, “I just- we um. I sucked him off in the bathroom.” 

The last part is said quickly and so quietly that Harry has to pause for a moment to process whether he’d actually heard her correctly. 

He couldn’t believe it. This little innocent puppy in front of him was actually something of a minx. Y/N must see the look on his face because she quickly tries to backtrack, stuttering even more than she usually did. “No, it wasn’t like that! It literally- well, it only happened once, and we haven’t spoken since. He hasn’t said another word to me!” 

Harry’s brows furrow at this, a new, unfamiliar feeling leaking into the bottom of his spine. “He didn’t speak to you again afterwards?” Shaking her head, Y/N looks away, desperately trying to avoid any gaze Harry tries to initiate. “Well, it was just casual. I didn’t expect him to court me with flowers or anything!” 

There was something sort of sad about the way Y/N was speaking, as if she’d tried so hard to convince herself of this that she believed she was talking sense to him now. “Y/N, sweetheart. It’s not about flowers and all that, the least he could do was fuckin’ speak to you after. Especially after making such a pretty girl get on her knees in the bloody office bathroom, no less. Why would anyone go out of their way to ignore you after that?” 

And well, Y/N doesn’t know. It was true. She really hadn’t been expecting much from him. But Harry was right; she was at least hoping he’d acknowledge her existence when walking into the office kitchen and not run out like a startled rat. 

Harry doesn’t know why exactly, but he can’t stand the way her face drops, and he quickly jumps to stand in front of her, grabbing her soft hands in his own. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. Forget about him, yeh? He’s not even worth your time.” 

What Harry really wanted to say was god, she could do a million times better than fuck face Payne. He wanted to tell her she deserved to be courted, to be surprised with flowers and to be asked about her day. But he didn’t know how and it wasn’t exactly his place to tell her this; they’d only just gotten onto friendly terms. 

Harry couldn’t pinpoint why this sudden possessiveness over Y/N had come up. All he knows is he didn’t want her anywhere near Liam, couldn’t bear the idea of them together. And don’t get him wrong, he knows Y/N was a grown woman that could make her own decisions, so why did the idea of Liam’s prick in her mouth send a pang to his chest? 

Looking at her now, Y/N is giving him that same puppy-eyed look she used to give him when he would make fun of her at her desk, and he briefly wonders how he ever saw her looking at him like that and didn’t instantly get on his knees apologising. It was so full of sadness, lacking the usual life and verve he’d gotten used to in her gaze during the past couple of weeks. 

Without thinking, Harry rubs his thumb along her bottom lip, “enough of that. Stop your poutin’.” Out of instinct, Y/N pulls back, Harry’s hand dropping from her face, and she cringes as she watches the wounded look that crosses his face. 

“I- sorry, I didn’t mean that.” He only nods, looking away and pulling back from her slightly to face the computer once again, but Y/N doesn’t want that. No, right now, Y/N wants him back close to her, she already missed the soft press of his thumb and the gentle puff of air each time he would exhale, blowing against her cheek. She couldn’t explain it, this want, this need. It was so pent up inside her like it had always been there, and she’d finally acknowledged and given it a reason to be let out, the two seconds without his contact suddenly becoming unbearable. 

So she grabs his hand and places it back on her cheek. His rings are cool against the flushed (and no doubt red) skin, but it feels good. A sense of relief and respite from the heat pumping through her veins and into her face, so she nuzzles gently into his palm, holding the smooth skin of his wrist. His eyes soften as he watches her. 

“Oh puppy, look at you gettin’ all soft on me.” 

Harry feels her jaw bob slightly as she swallows, the movement drawing his attention down from her eyes to her mouth, and it’s only when she speaks does his gaze meet hers again. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to pull back, just not quite used to this… uh friendliness, yet.” 

He only nods, this time in understanding, watching as her own line of sight dances between his pretty eyes and his even prettier lips. “What are you lookin’ at my lips for, hm?” The blush that sports her cheeks is instant and Harry can’t help but chuckle as her mouth opens and closes, at a loss for words. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to- “ 

“Oi, what’d I say? Stop with the pouting. I’m only teasing.” Harry interrupts, pulling at her pillowy bottom lip that had somehow become wedged between her teeth again. “If I didn’t know any better, Y/N, I’d think you were looking at my lips because you wanted to kiss me.” 

If Harry was being honest, he expected her to scoff and shake her head like she usually did when he teases her like this. But instead, he watches as her eyebrows scrunch up slightly as if she was just as confused by it, her gaze meek as she nods, looking down longingly at his lips once more. Harry has to stop himself from moaning, feeling his cock twitch in his pants at her uncharacteristic confidence. 

“Y’want to kiss me?” It comes out whispered and breathy unintentionally, originally meaning to sound blasé and unperturbed. 

Y/N hardly has to nod again before he pushes his mouth against hers. He pulls back, gently brushing his lips against hers, giving her time to protest, time to tell him this is the opposite of what she wanted. Instead, he feels as she pushes back against him with as much fervour as he had, moulding her soft lips against his own slightly chapped ones. 

The whine Harry lets out is nothing short of embarrassing. He just couldn’t explain it. Kissing had never felt like this before, like her lips fit perfectly in the slot between his own. As if his whole life, he’d been waiting for her mouth to fill the spot so many others couldn’t. 

It just felt right.

They continue kissing, their tongues brushing against each other’s, tasting of coffee and frustration and missed opportunities.

This whole time he was teasing her; this is what he was missing? If Harry could travel back in time, he would. He’d go back to the first day they met when she’d walked into the work elevator and promptly dropped her iced tea on his new white vans. He’d take back the dirty look he’d given her as she tried to apologise. He’d tell her it was okay, not ask her if she was ‘fucking kidding’ and telling her to leave him alone as he went to the bathroom to try to wash the sticky liquid out of the canvas. He’d do it all differently. 

Maybe Harry could’ve avoided a lot of unenthusiastic one-night stands and unneeded frustration. Maybe Harry would have jumped to this part a lot quicker. Just maybe. 

Y/N pushes Harry back slightly, giving herself more room to join him in kneeling on the ground, but it just wouldn’t do. Harry needed to have her as close as possible to him, and sitting next to him wasn’t nearly close enough. He pulls away from her mouth and stands up, scoffing and sending her his signature smirk when she instantly kneels up, trying to undo his belt. “Jesus Christ, you little minx, you’re trying to get your mouth on me already?” 

She laughs, but he doesn’t miss how a blush spreads across her face, a clear sign of embarrassment. Pulling her up to meet him, he kisses her again, taking his time to feel her pulse against his palm as he cups her neck gently before turning around and sitting in the chair she was previously occupying, pulling her to straddle him. “There’ll be plenty of time for that, trust me. Just wanna kiss you right now.” 

She nods against him, slipping her tongue against his before lightly nibbling at his lip between hers, soothing the slight sting with a soft brush of her tongue. She understood. She just wanted to be close to him, to feel all of him right away. But she knew that wasn’t smart. She was confused by the way she was feeling, and having sex with him at the same desk he’d teased her relentlessly at probably wouldn’t clear much up for her. 

He just tasted so good; each touch of his mouth to hers sent little zaps through her, straight to her inner thighs. He was addicting in every sense of the word, and she could finally admit to herself that the second he’d kissed her, there would be no stopping herself. Y/N felt out of control, and while she knows hooking up with Harry here probably wasn’t the brightest idea, she really struggles to find it in herself to care right now.

Instead, she leans between them and palms gently at the growing bulge in Harry’s slacks, rolling her eyes and moaning as she feels him hardening underneath her palm, “god, you really are a minx. Just can’t help yourself, can you?” 

He grabs both of her wrists in one of his hands (Y/N swallows at that image because fucking hell, how big were his hands to fit around both of her wrists), and she lets him hold them against her chest. Using his other hand, he plays with the button on her pants, wasting enough time that Y/N begins to buck up underneath him, silently begging him to do something, literally fucking anything.

He looks up at her, and she feels like she’s about to be scolded, so she stops the movements of her hips. 

“Good girl,” he mutters and Y/N pants like a dog. 

Undoing the buttons, Harry helps Y/N lift her hips until he can slide her pants off onto the floor, pulling her back down onto his lap. She jolts lightly as she feels his erection against her soaking pussy, even through his pants and her underwear. 

Continuing to play with her, Harry snaps the elastics of her underwear against her tummy; he smirks at the little whines she lets out each time he does it. He could already tell Y/N was gonna be vocal, and he couldn’t wait to pull as many sounds out of her pretty mouth as he could. 

“Please- Harry, touch m-” She’s cut off by him harshly pressing at her clit through the cloth covering her, and she lets out a moan, her toes curling at the pressure. 

“What was that, sweetheart?” She rolls her eyes, and for some reason, Harry doesn’t think it’s because of his fingers. He decides to humour her anyway, pulling back and slipping his fingers into her underwear before she can complain about the sudden stopping of his movements and presses a finger into her.

He groans as he feels her folds, already silky and wet, and he’d hardly even touched her. His middle finger meets absolutely no resistance, although he feels her walls tighten around him at the intrusion. She instantly bucks towards him as he begins to thrust in and out, the pleasure almost too much and yet not enough, so he slips another finger into her sopping cunt, her wetness dripping down his digits and making the silver of his rings slippery.

Overwhelmed by the pleasure his fingers were giving her, Y/N tries to grip her hand against Harry’s shoulder to ground herself. Unfortunately for both Harry and herself, her fervour to do so means she isn’t all that careful in getting her hand there and instead accidentally knocks his chin on her way past. 

The laugh that leaves her is comical as she watches his face drawn with concentration, instantly fill with shock as he looks up at her, curious to see if she did it on purpose. Y/N swallows at the look that simpers across his features and finds herself letting out a deep moan at the sudden harsh and deep strokes Harry’s fingers take on, almost as if he was punishing her for laughing, a smug grin filling half his face. 

Y/N couldn’t believe how stretched out she felt from just two digits. She never would have described his fingers as thick, but feeling them inside her now, stretching her open, she began to wonder how his cock would ever fit inside her. 

While Y/N’s moan reverberates in the air in front of them, Harry’s eyes don’t dare leave her own, watching as hers crease in pleasure while holding the challenging gaze. When Harry looks down to watch his hand moving beneath her underwear, Y/N grabs onto his chin, pulling his gaze back to her, almost as if it was out of instinct. The small intake of air he takes in shock would usually make Y/N giggle if she wasn’t so focused on getting his gaze back to hers. 

It’s dominant in how she grips his strong jaw, so tight her thumb slightly indents into his cheek and so completely unlike her. Usually, she preferred to take on a more submissive role, particularly in the bedroom- but the way Harry is pliantly moving his head, whichever way her hand directs him to, sends a shiver up her spine. Slowly, and while still maintaining her grip, she brings her forefinger to gently trace his spit-slicked lips, the cupid’s bow slightly swollen from Y/N’s teeth nipping at it while they were kissing. 

She’d never thought of herself as dominant, but when Harry obediently opens his mouth, Y/N feels a rush between her legs, noticeably wetter at the sight of the man usually so cocky and smug, docile at her touch, like putty in her hands as he waits with his mouth agape, his tongue pushed out and his eyes fluttering in pleasure. Gently she traces the tip of her pointer finger over his tongue, watching as he jolts at the tickling feeling before slipping her finger into his mouth completely. She can’t control the whimper that leaves her as he closes his lips around her, sucking gently at the digit and nibbling at the sensitive pad of her finger. 

It’s erotic and filthy to watch his arm move beneath her skirt while her index finger gently ruts back and forth into his mouth, Harry accommodating to the intrusion, licking and sucking it as if it were a cock. 

She watches as Harry’s eyes flutter, rolling backwards as she slots her middle finger in his mouth too, no doubt the fluttering of her hole at the erotic scene in front of her making him even weaker. 

Y/N can hardly believe it when she pulls her hand back, hooking her thumb onto his lower jaw to keep it open, and Harry obediently follows her lead, unsure what she wanted to do but sticking his tongue out dutifully like his body could read her intentions even while his mind couldn’t. 

She leans forward and watches as the realisation clicks in his eyes as she purses her lips and spits lightly into his mouth, the saliva sliding to the back of his mouth and disappearing as he swallows, a broken moan leaving him. 

And with that, it’s like something snapped.

Harry’s standing up, her precarious position on his lap meaning she was pushed backwards as he did so, her spine landing roughly on the desk behind her. Y/N can hardly bring herself to care as he begins sliding his large hands up her thighs, pushing the material of her shirt further upwards and out of his way while leaning over her, rubbing his lips gently across her stomach. 

He glances at her briefly before standing back up straight, the submission he was sporting long gone as he sees the wet patch on the front of her underwear, a smug grin sliding onto his pretty mouth to replace it.

At the first touch of his thumb against her cotton-covered clit again, Y/N hisses, the contact not nearly hard enough to give her any pleasure but enough that she felt his presence there, slowly rubbing over the soaked material. 

“Messy, messy girl. What are we goin’ to do with you, huh?” Y/N whines, meeting his gaze again, and Harry almost drops down to his knees then and there at the pleading look in her eyes. He prevails, too hellbent on teasing her and chooses to pull the material taught against her swollen lips by the hem, his eyes glazing over as he watches her hips driving up, riding the seam of her underwear. 

A light groan leaves Y/N’s open mouth. Harry takes the opportunity to slip his middle two digits onto her tongue, crooning praise as she immediately begins sucking the remaining slick from her weeping hole, lapping at the salty taste. “Tha’s my good girl, look at you. Such a whore when you want to be, aren’t you? Were you this enthusiastic sucking Liam’s cock?” 

Instantly she’s shaking her head, her eyes meeting his own, pleading as if she was desperate for him to believe her before they roll into the back of her head, the right amount of pressure on her aching clit sending a zap of pleasure through her. 

“No? Well, aren’t I lucky then, s’all for me” 

He pulls the material to the side, sliding his fingers through her silky folds, ignoring her protesting groan at the pressure on her pussy being removed. Instead, he tuts his tongue, “to think you were trying to be all dominant. Looks like you were born to be on your back for me.” With that, he slips the wet fingers from her mouth into her hole once again, curling them upwards on each stroke back into her sopping cunt. 

His fingers just felt so good, reaching further than her own could ever, tapping gently at the sensitive spot inside of her, his thumb gently rubbing against her clit, but Y/N needed more. She needed his mouth on her. She grasps at his bicep, pulling him further down, closer to her mound and watches as he pulls his fingers out of her and slips them into his own mouth, his eyes rolling to the back of his head at the heady taste of her.

“God, you were so greedy licking all this before, not letting me have a taste or anything.” She wanted to tell him to shut up, to get his mouth on her, but all her confidence had slipped away once she was thrown onto the desk, Harry reducing her to a stuttering mess like usual. 

“Plea- Harry. I- come on, I need….” 

The feeling of Harry slapping her pussy sends a jolt through her, the pain mixing so deliciously with the pleasure that any trail of thought she had was long gone. 

“Spit it out, Y/N. I won’t do it unless you ask me.” She huffs, and he gives her a warning look, one that tells her that being a brat would get her the exact opposite of what she wanted. 

“Please, Harry, I need you.” A cocky grin fills his face, and he stands up taller again, leaning his elbow against her knee that was bent on the desk. “Need me to what?” 

She growls, “lick me. Make me cum, please.” She’s hardly finished her sentence before he’s on his knees and finally putting his tongue on her, sucking her clit into his mouth. 

“Fuck Harry, yes!” She pulls him even closer, feeling his tongue exploring her folds, dipping into her hole and back up to the most sensitive part of her again and again. 

Y/N can hardly stop herself from grabbing his hair and pushing his head into her, the tip of his nose rubbing right against her clit as he uses a flat tongue to lick into her.

She’s confused for a brief moment when she feels him stop moving, sticking his tongue flat against her again before she realises what he wants.

He wants her to use him. 

Using her hold on the back of his head for leverage, Y/N begins grinding onto his face, directing him exactly where she needs as she moves her hips back and forth, each time pushing his mouth onto her a little rougher.

The groan that leaves Harry sparks the beginning of Y/N’s orgasm. He sounded so desperate, so turned on by the thought of her using him this way, she has trouble believing he’s not a switch. Sure he was dominant; the last ten minutes alone had proven that, but Y/N could see as clear as day that he enjoyed being manhandled too, that the brief moment he had allowed her fingers and spit into his mouth was not a one-off. 

Harry Styles was as submissive as he was dominant. 

The thought brings Y/N’s climax to the edge, and Harry’s arm wrapping around her thigh to rub her clit with his thumb sends her plummeting.

She feels her whole body stiffen before waves of pleasure soar, each wave sending another spasm through her legs. Harry’s mouth and thumb are relentless through it. Each time she thinks her orgasm is ending, he sparks another jolt of pleasure. By the time she finally calms down, her legs are shaking around his head, and her thighs are closing around him as the stimulation becomes too much.

Y/N watches as his face emerges from between her legs, the bottom half of it smeared with a smug grin and her cum. A shudder is sent down her spine as he uses his thumb to wipe some from the corner of his mouth, sucking the pad of his finger like it was a bit of ice cream that had missed his mouth, the groan that leaves him from her taste sending the shiver deeper, to in between her legs.

Like he hadn’t had his tongue nestled in her cunt for the last ten minutes, and like she hadn’t just had a mind-shattering orgasm.

If she was being honest, Y/N could go again right then and there. In fact, she feels the need doubling as she looks down at the apparent bulge nestled between Harry’s legs, straining against the fabric of his slacks. She hears the man above her clear his throat, and her face instantly flushes as she realises she’s been caught staring at his crotch. 

Harry laughs, the sound travelling through her tummy and straight to her cheeks, she hadn’t even seen his dick, yet she was acting this cock drunk? What was wrong with her? 

Last time she checked, she was supposed to hate Harry, but she knew that was no longer the case. You don’t ride your enemies’ faces, and you definitely don’t crave their cum down your throat. 

Harry must see the confusion flitting across her face because he takes her chin in his hand and guides her face upwards, leaning down and brushing his lips against hers. 

“Hey, come back to me, yeah? What’s got my pretty girl all confused, hm? Talk to me.” 

My pretty girl. The statement shoots through Y/N like a rocket, each nerve ending sparking at the indifferent way he had claimed her as his. 

She chuckles lightly, “god, I’m supposed to fucking hate you.” He grins back, the stretch of his lips tickling her own as he moves. “Yeh? Why are you so wet then?” At this, he drags his ring finger through her puffy lips, pulling back slightly to show the slick practically dripping from the digit in front of them. 

Y/N briefly wonders if it’s healthy to blush so much as she feels her cheeks heating up once again. Harry revels in how she ducks her head shamefully, the colour on her face deepening as he pops the cum covered finger into his mouth and sucks off her sweetness. Leaning in, he kisses her gently, groaning as she opens her mouth and sweeps her tongue against his, licking off the remaining taste of herself. 

If Harry’s honest, he wants her tongue against his cock. He wants to thrust inside her mouth until her throat’s constricting around his weeping head; he wants to split her open. He wants to hear her cry his name as he thrusts inside her again and again, but he doesn’t want to ruin this. He wasn’t exactly sure what ‘this’ was, but he was fully aware that no other person had made Harry so gooey inside. 

This felt so different from anything Harry had ever experienced, and what was he supposed to do with that? He wanted to protect it, take Y/N in his hands, hold her close to his heart and never let go. Not that he was going to tell her that, not yet anyway. So when she deepens the kiss further and reaches down to stroke him through his pants, he pulls away, holding back the whine he instinctively wants to let out as her hand stops its movements immediately. 

She looks confused, and Harry’s heart aches.

“Are you okay?” He nods and watches as her gaze drops to his adam’s apple bobbing with the movement. She leans up and presses a gentle kiss against the side of his throat, pulling back and looking him in the eyes, and she holds his head in her hands. Inadvertently, Harry leans into the touch, enjoying how her thumb stroked against the smooth skin of his cheekbone. “We should get you cleaned up.” Instantly Y/N frowns, her mouth forming a delicious pout that Harry has to drag his gaze from. “What about you? I wanna make you feel good too. Please let me.” 

He shakes his head, dropping it against her plush chest. Instinctively she smooths her hands through the tufts at the back of his head, gently stroking and tugging. “What’s wrong, Harry? Talk to me, please.” 

He lifts his head, resting his chin against the bone of her sternum, careful not to rest too much weight on her. “Nothing, I promise,” his signature grin plastered on his face. “I’m happy, just want to be with you now. Don’t want anythin’ else from you.” 

She doesn’t quite believe him. Y/N doesn’t think she’s ever met a man who would willingly turn down a blowjob, but she would always respect boundaries, even if she didn’t believe the intention behind them. Perhaps he was just uncomfortable, or hadn’t shaved and was self-conscious about it or summat? Maybe he just didn’t want to, and Y/N was more than okay with that. Thinks at this rate, she would do whatever Harry wanted, even if the rational part of her brain was screaming at her to do the opposite. 

So she only nods along and pushes a few loose strands of hair away from his face admiring the gentle slope of his cupid’s bow and the flutter of his eyelashes against the curve of his cheekbone. 

“Okay. That’s okay.” 

The smile he gives her makes Y/N’s heart flutter tenfold. 

She was utterly fucked. 

—-

Y/N didn’t know why she felt nervous. She definitely shouldn’t. It was just Harry; she’d spoken to him thousands of times, dropped bits and pieces into his office a million times over without hesitation.

It was just Harry. 

Just Harry, who had his face buried in her pussy not twenty-four hours earlier, that is.

 Y/N couldn’t help it. While she could’ve confidently explained why Harry had made her restless and fidgety a few months ago, words escaped her to explain why that was now. If anything, she should feel more comfortable than she was before. He had seen, felt, tasted parts of her that not many people had been privy to, and he’d made her feel good, at ease. 

So why did she feel so nervous now? 

The very thought of entering his office, seeing those eyes staring through her and those perfect lips shaping around her name, sent a shiver down her spine.

Y/N was still trying to figure out if this was good or bad when she forced herself to walk through the door anyway. 

Instantly the smell of vanilla and patchouli overwhelms her senses. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, she feels her iron grip on the folder in her hands loosening slightly. It was calming, so familiar and intimate. It brings her back to lying on the desk last night, pleasure overwhelming her while she eyed the water-stained roof, Harry’s fingers tightening around her own. 

"Y/N, hey!" The voice is definitely not Harry's; she only notices Sarah's presence when she looks to her left. She jumps slightly, she hadn't anticipated company and her mind quickly ranges through emotions of comfort and then disappointment. 

Sarah's presence meant there was another person to help ward off any awkwardness and also significantly increased the chances that the topic of last night would be narrowly avoided. But it also meant Y/N couldn't take Harry in exactly how she just this moment realised she wanted to.

Shamelessly, without hesitation and perhaps with a kiss to kick it off, though she shakes her head, trying to rid herself of that thought. 

Sarah's voice brings Harry's attention upwards, away from his computer screen, and he physically has to tear his eyes away from Y/N's legs, bare and in a black mini skirt- just toeing the line of inappropriate for the workplace. 

He coughs, his cheeks heating with the knowledge that Y/N has definitely noticed his indiscretion if the uncharacteristic smirk is anything to go by. 

"Hi, pretty girl." 

If Harry struggled with her bare legs, Y/N is battling for her life. She knew she was completely and utterly fucked. Those few words had nearly brought her to tears, her thighs instantly squeezing together at his voice's raw and raspy tone. He knew what he was doing; he had to. 

And, of course, he did, referring to her the exact way he had last night after coaxing her back from her orgasm. 

He was such a tease.

Standing up, Harry walks towards her, motioning to the folder in her hands, "what's this?" 

The return to Harry's regular cadence of voice seems to wake her up, her eyes visibly opening from the hooded daze they had been in, no doubt remembering the events of last night.

"Uh, just dropping this file off. Tom said it might help you with your client." Harry squashed the brief fluttering of jealousy in his tummy at the thought of Tom (an admittedly attractive coworker he had overheard talking to his friends about how he thought Y/N would be good in bed) with Y/N. They worked together; of course, they'd need to talk eventually. Besides, it wasn't Tom's tongue that was buried inside of her last night. 

"Hm, how kind of him." He lets Y/N assume this is the end of his sentence and watches as she nods in agreement before continuing, "can I ask why Tom himself isn't delivering it?" 

Busted.

It wasn't as if Tom hadn't asked her to supply Harry with the folder, but it technically wasn't as if he had either. Y/N had overheard him chatting with a friend in the breakroom about when Harry's lunch break was so he could ensure he was in his office when he delivered it, when Y/N had stepped in and, well, lied. 

"Oh, I have to take something to him as well. Did you want me to just grab yours too?" 

And well, Tom didn't hesitate. She guesses one less task for him to complete. But she couldn't necessarily tell Harry that, and she certainly didn't want to, knowing it would inflate his poor ego even further, and with how big it already was, she feared it would float away. 

Harry knows that whatever was about to come out of her pretty little mouth was a bold face lie, thanks to Tom coming into his office about half an hour before attempting to pry any details he could about Y/N's willingness to see him out of Harry. 

"Uh- not sure! He just asked me. I guess he's probably… well, he's seen us around, assumed we were friends or summat? Not sure! You'd probably have to ask him yourself." She finishes with a smile. To anyone else, it would probably look unassuming, but Harry can see right through her. 

He nods, stepping even closer to her, about two steps away from invading her personal space- not that she'd mind, but she'd noted it, with Sarah being in the room and all. Harry watched her gulp, her throat bobbing as her eyes trained upwards to accommodate the height difference between them. The image of her on her knees flashes in his mind, and he has to consciously expel it, although his voice comes out raspy and bothered due to its effect. 

"You're cute when you're flustered. Lying to me already?" He pulls his arm in between them, pointedly checking the time on his watch, his wrist brushing gently against her covered chest with the movement, "and it's only 11 in the morning." 

Her eyes flash to Sarah, still sitting unassumingly in the corner on her phone and blissfully unaware that the territory Harry was walking in was quickly overstepping the line from professional. 

What with his 'fuck-me’ eyes and his bottom lip tucked safely under his top two teeth. 

"I'm not… I'm not lying." 

His eyebrows raise in question, an amused but intimidating smirk stretching across the bottom half of his face.

It's then that Y/N realises he definitely knows she's lying and that she hasn't even nearly gotten away with it. 

She rolls her eyes, "okay, so I offered to bring it to you. What's the big deal?" 

His grin reaches cheshire status, his eyes fully alight, and they take on an air of teasing. "Did you just want to see me, hm? Miss me already?" 

The smell of mint wafting off him almost causes Y/N to roll her eyes for a different reason, but she smiles nonetheless. "Maybe," she shrugs. 

Reaching up to twirl a strand of her hair around his ringed finger, he leans in even closer, "you only saw me last night." She swallows, his proximity affecting her more than she could ever admit, her gaze flicking between his unwavering eyes and his plush lips, "I know." 

Her voice is hoarse, and she hopes to god Sarah is seriously engrossed in whatever is on her phone because anyone who heard it would immediately be able to tell it was laced with a certain desperation for the curly-headed man before her. 

Harry feels happiness soaring through his veins at her admittance, her hungry eyes causing blood to rush through his veins and between his legs. Sparing a glance at Sarah, he presses a gentle kiss on Y/N's cheek, leaning closer to her ear and whispering, "I missed you too," before he leans back, taking the folder in his hands and walking back to his desk. 

"Thanks for this, Y/N, and tell Tom I said thanks too." 

Y/N feels the need to clear her throat, the brash difference between his low intonation while whispering in her ear and the bright and cheerful way his professional facade returned, leaving her dizzy. 

"Uh- I will. Thanks." 

Slowly, she begins to back out of the office, unable to entirely take her eyes off the man who now sat in front of his computer, his attention on an email he definitely did not need to read at that very moment, but what could Harry say? He liked to make her squirm. She loved how he could feel her attention on him, begging him to return her longing gaze. 

He only glances up when she says a quick but friendly goodbye to Sarah, the yearning look in her eye disappointing him none. 

Harry allows himself a mere three seconds of silence before it's abruptly interrupted by Sarah. 

"Huh." 

Harry forces himself not to roll his eyes, trying desperately to keep his attention on his computer screen and not on the very annoying woman pointedly looking at him from the corner. 

He lasts all of five seconds before her stare causes him to turn to her exasperatedly, "what?" Sarah laughs at his theatrics, holding her hands in front of him in surrender, "nothing, nothing! I just don't think I've ever seen you be so friendly with Y/N before."

This time Harry does roll his eyes, "and?" 

She laughs again, her eyes holding a certain curiosity Harry really wasn't interested in addressing currently, "nothing!" She repeats. "Just if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were interested in her." She drops her voice and very badly tries to mimic Harry's slow british drawl, "Hi, pretty girl." 

 Harry takes a moment to wonder how hard he'd have to roll his eyes before they popped right out of his head. Whatever the answer, he imagines he'd be pretty fucking close. "Fuck off, Sarah." 

"C'mon, Haz, I'm only teasing you!" She waits for him to look up at her again, a suspiciously innocent look overtaking her face before she adopts her ridiculously inaccurate imitation again, "what? Miss me already?"

She's cackling as Harry's growling at her, "get the fuck out of my office!" Before she makes her way out, taking great pleasure in the way he was crossing his arms and huffing like a petulant toddler. 

And it wasn't like Sarah was wrong, which is perhaps why he's so annoyed. He was interested in Y/N; of course, he was. In all honesty, he's surprised he didn't immediately confide in Sarah about the events of last night as soon as she'd stepped foot in his office, but something about it felt different. It felt private, a secret between just he and Y/N, something he felt would be breaking her trust if he told someone, even his best friend. 

He didn't know if perhaps he was worried it wouldn't play out exactly how he hoped or if he was just concerned that sharing the experience with anyone else would water down its saporous taste. Harry felt greedy. He wanted it all to himself, he didn't want anyone else to know how Y/N sounded when he suckled lightly against her neck or how soft the skin of her wrists was. 

No, he thinks for now, he'll keep Y/N all to himself, let the taste of her settle on his tongue and slip down the back of his tongue, intoxicating him through and through. 

—-

The thin paper of the coffee cup does nothing to stop the liquid inside burning Harry's palm, but in all honesty, he hardly feels it. No, the burning of something much deeper licks up his spine. 

It's the sight of Liam Payne standing in Y/N's office, his Y/N. 

And don't get him wrong, Harry wasn't necessarily jealous, but something about Liam's stance in front of Y/N's desk pissed him right off. So cocky and confident, why was he leaning down and towering over her like that? 

Harry walks closer, leaning into the door so he can hear what the pair are saying, but even with his closer proximity, Harry has to strain to hear a thing.

"So that's just it? You're fucking him now?" The low drawl of Liam. 

"Li- I don't know, why are you even... Who told you that?" Harry's furrowed eyebrows naturally soften at the confused and upset tone of Y/N. Who on earth were they talking about? Surely not him? How would Liam, of all people, know what had happened between them?

"No one had to tell me. It was a pretty easy guess," the man snarls, "you do see the way he follows you around like a lost puppy nowadays, right?" 

Okay, maybe he was referring to Harry, although he definitely didn't appreciate the unnecessary comparison. 

"He does not! We are fri-friends. I like spending time with him." Harry hears the way Y/N's voice cracks on the word 'friend', and he has to ignore the flush of pleasure he gets from her referring to him in this way like he didn't have his fucking tongue between her legs last night! What was he becoming? Maybe he was like a lost puppy around her, for god's sake.

It's Liam's following words that cause Harry to jump in, the instant anger boiling in his blood causing him to swiftly step inside the office and shoulder check Liam as he walks by, coming to sit on the desk in front of Y/N. 

"That's what you said about us, and next thing you know, my cock was down your-" 

"Oi wanker, what are you doin' here?" 

Liam's mouth drops open in shock, and if Harry wasn't so angry, he would've laughed at his dumbfounded expression. 

The man in front of him fumbles slightly, unsure how to handle the clearly disgruntled Harry sitting in front of him, whose stature- even when sitting down- was nearly as considerable as his own. "Uh, nothing, just chatting to Y/N." He tries to flash her an annoyed look, but Harry merely leans slightly to the right, blocking his view of her and replacing it with his less than impressed simmer. 

"Huh. Didn't realise you two were that close?" Immediately Harry can see Liam become defensive, his arms moving to cross his body and his posture leaning back slightly. "Could say the same about you two." 

When Harry's gaze doesn't even flicker away from his own, Liam continues, desperately trying to fill the silence in which he felt his confidence drowning in. "Look mate, can ya move? We're just chatting."

Harry almost has to laugh; chatting was one way to put it. Mildly harassing was how Harry was more likely to phrase it. 

"Chatting, huh?" It's for the first time now that Harry glances back at Y/N, humour in his eyes. "Did'ya hear that Y/N. Chatting!" She still has a slightly worried look in her eyes, one that Harry had very much begun to love, but it's mixed with a sense of hilarity at Harry's very clear teasing. 

He turns back to the man in front of him, "what is it exactly that you were chatting about, huh, Li? I do love a good gossip!" 

Liam's nose scrunches at the unfitting nickname, but Harry can sense his hesitation to answer the question. He probes even further, "didn't sound too light-hearted and fun to me, but maybe I'm misinterpreting your fascinating attempt to 'chat,'" he emphasises the word, the 't' leaving his mouth sharply. Liam flinches like Harry had slapped him, his brusque manner of speaking more poisonous than he'd realised.

Good. 

He hoped Liam was scared. 

"Move it along, Payne, back to whatever hole you crawled out of." 

The man in front of him snarls, "fuck off, Styles." He backs away anyway, moving towards the door while maintaining eye contact with Harry, only dropping it once he was over the threshold. 

Harry is quick to turn back to Y/N, "y'alright, babe?" She nods, although the uneasy look in her eyes tells Harry that she's not being entirely truthful. "Yeh, I think so. How- um, how much of that did you hear?" 

Y/N watches as a grimace flits across the handsome man's face, "enough. You sure you're okay?" 

Nodding again, she swallows, the sound uncomfortably loud in the silent office. "Yep. I mean, we knew he was a dick, right?" A shallow laugh leaves her, and Harry knows she's more upset than she's leading on. Instead of pushing it, he leans over the desk, taking her face in his and gently pressing a kiss against her plush lips. Pulling back slightly, he whispers, watching the way she shudders against him, "that is an understatement." 

He leans back, and Y/N scolds herself for instantly missing his presence so close to her, "I um, I brought you a coffee." 

And maybe Y/N's heart swelled in her chest; perhaps she had worried that things would change after the nature of their relationship did.

She takes the cup he's holding in front of her and takes a sip, the warm liquid instantly easing the anxiety present in her stomach.

  ——

The next few weeks are one of pure amazement. It was honestly like a switch had been flicked inside Harry's mind. He was kind and considerate, gentle and understanding and loving, so so loving.

Y/N can't say that he was necessarily cruel to her ever since they'd become closer working on the Andrews case, but it wasn't like this, nothing like this. 

Every morning he would drop a coffee at her desk, whether she was there or not. Usually, if she was occupying the office, the delivery would come with a gentle kiss on the cheek or a squeeze of her hand, but if she wasn't, she would be greeted with the cup and a note left right on top of it. One morning he'd even taken the time to draw a little flower with sunglasses and a smiley face. 

Y/N had to consciously stop herself from cooing out loud. 

He'd begun to pick up her printing when she got distracted after sending it to the printer (which, if she was honest, happened more often than she would like to admit. Her head was always too busy! She'd click print and then get distracted by a new email that had come in or an advertisement for some shoes that she had been looking at on Instagram the night before because obviously, that meant that the universe was sending her signals that, yes, she absolutely needed them.) 

But Harry wouldn't get annoyed or tease her when he'd noticed her telltale orderly and colour-coordinated meeting notes sitting in the tray of the printer. He would just laugh and drop them off at her desk, entertaining her mindless rambling about fate or kismet or whatever the fuck she was talking about and simply tell her the shoes would suit those green pants she loved. 

He'd sit with her in her office with his laptop while she did her own work, answering her with ease each time she asked how to spell 'receipt' or 'chauvinistic,' although he had no idea what that had to do with her work, and ignoring her mindless muttering at her computer screen. 

He'd basically scared Liam off forever, sending him a vicious glare each time he even stepped a foot closer to Y/N than he needed. One time, Y/N had even told Harry to back down. He looked like a dog ready to attack at any moment, and Y/N swears to god she was worried he would start barking at the terrified bloke in the middle of the elevator, but Harry had just brushed her teasing off once Liam had left, the same fondness he always held in his eyes when looking at her returning. 

Harry had even cemented Lucy and her own spot in the cliquey office food chain, inviting them to lunch with his group daily. It was quite cute, Y/N thought. Mitch and Sarah were together, Lucy had taken a particular interest in Harry's friend Xavier, and well, Y/N and Harry were a couple of sorts, not as evident and official as Mitch and Sarah, but she often caught him looking at her when she was distracted talking to Lucy and Xavier often rolled his eyes and teased them about how soft Harry was around her. 

Harry would go out of his way to invite them both to social events that, three months ago, Y/N literally would have thrown up at the very idea of going to, but the thing was, she had fun! She was happy at her workplace for once, and she finally felt like part of a group.

It wasn't that Y/N didn't still get nervous around them, she definitely did, but she'd stopped stuttering as much when asked direct questions- Harry's presence probably helped a lot with that. 

It still didn't mean that Y/N didn't need at least three standards before she could openly talk to Sarah about her preference for home-cooked over ordered-in meals or answer Mitch's blunt questions. (She'd really thought he'd disliked her before she realised that Mitch kind of spoke to everyone like that, even Harry, who had known him for at least four years.) Harry had invited Lucy and herself out for drinks after work on Friday, and while Y/N felt anxiety tightening through her tummy, she could hardly say no to Harry's puppy dog eyes and overexcited smile.

And well, now Y/N was drunk. Not so drunk that she couldn't walk, but drunk enough that the world was slightly fuzzy, and the light shining onto Harry's soft skin made him look akin to an angel. 

He was so pretty, his brown curls swooping perfectly across his forehead, and his candy-coloured lips looked soft and kissable. And perhaps he'd noticed Y/N staring all doe-eyed at him, but he hadn't said anything, only squeezed gently at her thigh that was resting comfortably against her own before returning his attention to Mitch. 

It was only when she'd begun to let the sleepiness plaguing her for the last half hour win by leaning against Harry's shoulder did he acknowledge her properly. "Y'alright?" She only nodded in response. "Just sleepy, hm?" His heart constricts in his chest as she sleepily blinks up at him, rubbing her eyes like a toddler and nodding again. "Hmm yeah, haven't been sleeping well. Moose's been keepin' me up." 

Harry had fallen in love with Y/N's little tabby cat, probably because of his big green eyes that Y/N said looked exactly like his, but probably more likely because the second he'd stepped foot in the door of Y/N's two-bedroom apartment, Moose was rubbing against his legs and purring like it wasn't Y/N that fed him and kissed him and loved him daily. 

He could barely contain his laughter at Y/N's disbelieving face as she stood staring grumpily at the loved-up pair, exclaiming, "it took him two weeks just to let me pat him!" And then turning to the purring creature, "traitor," before rolling her eyes and making Harry a cup of tea while glaring at them both from the kitchen. 

"My boy being naughty again?" 

She glared at him through her lashes, and Harry had to will away a stiffy, the look she was giving him had quickly become one of his favourites. 

"What?" He knows what. 

"You know what. He's not your boy," She sways slightly as she says this. 

They're interrupted by Sarah cooing from across the table, "aw, you two are too sweet!"

Harry rolls his eyes at his friend's antics, and Y/N briefly wonders if this wasn't the first time she'd teased Harry because of this, "fuck off, we are just friends." 

And well, Y/N didn't know any other friends who ate each other out on their desks and spat in each other's mouths, but she wasn't going to say anything. These were Harry's friends, and she guesses it would be his decision about when he would tell them- if he ever would at all, although the thought of her being his dirty little secret forever made her a little sad.

She notices he pulls away from her slightly, and it makes her even sadder. 

—-

The fuzziness of the world had become slightly clearer now that most of the alcohol had flushed from her system, but Y/N still felt giddy. Maybe it was Harry's hand resting on top of her leg, or perhaps it was the way that, regardless of his friends garnering his attention for most of the night, he had steadily moved closer over the last three hours until they were pressed right against each other. 

Y/N felt each inhalation and exhalation he made, every laugh rumbled through his body into her own, and when Y/N would trail her hand up the back of Harry's neck while he was busy chatting and twirl the curls at the base of it, she felt the way his breath would hitch. 

They'd outlasted everyone, Harry's friends saying goodbye one by one until it was just them at the table stuck in their own bubble. But Harry just didn't want the night to end. It wasn't like they'd never be able to hang out like this again; hell, they'd see each other on Monday at the office, but he couldn't bring himself to untangle their limbs, not just yet anyway.

That is until Y/N had looked up at him with these doe-like eyes that he knew she was trying to make look sexy and whispered in his ear, "wanna go back to your place?" 

Y/N watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed until he grabbed her hand and pressed a light kiss to the back of it, "I'd love to," leading her gaze right back to his stupid kissable mouth. 

She could hardly stop herself from kissing him right then and there, so she really has to applaud herself when she manages to control herself all the way into the hallway of Harry's apartment, which is finally where her composure snaps. 

Just as he gets the door shut, Y/N is leaping against him, pressing her mouth against his own and groaning at the taste she'd only experienced once, weeks ago now. 

It had been so fucking long, and she knew Harry was a gentleman, and she knew they were just spending time with each other without sex getting in the way. But if she was being candid, tonight, she wanted Harry to treat her in every disrespectful way he knew how to. 

She didn't want the romance right now. She didn't want the sweetness- she knew Harry could be like that. No, right now, she wanted his tongue down her throat. She wanted him to fuck her, hard. She wanted to wake up tomorrow and feel exactly where he'd squeezed, pushed and pulled. 

She just wanted to feel every bit of him. 

So when he lets out a grunt of surprise but almost instantly deepens the kiss, Y/N moans throatily. 

He pulls back, still close enough that their lips brush as he speaks, "finally," he mutters. "Been waiting all fucking night for you to do that." Then he's leaning back in again, no sense of hesitation as he slips his tongue between her lips and brushes it against her own immediately. 

Had she really been that obvious? She hadn't thought so, perhaps she'd been looking at his mouth more than she usually would, but that was it! She hardly has time to feel embarrassed because Harry is everywhere, grabbing her cheek, her jaw, her throat. He's pulling her so tight against himself that it's impossible she could be any closer, but she can feel his desperation. Feel it in the way his hands grasp different parts of her so quickly like he wanted so badly to hold all of them at once but couldn't find the time or patience to do so. Her breast, her cheek, her waist. Only when his thumb brushes against her nipple through her shirt does he slow down.

The sharp inhalation she makes draws Harry's attention to his actions. He pulls back, looking down between them and brushes her nipple again, slowly tracing the tip of his thumb against the bud, visible even through her bra and shirt. Y/N's almost embarrassed at the shaky whimper she lets out. 

“Fuck,” Harry whimpers under his breath. She was so fucking hot. The way she’s biting her lip, with her brows furrowing and fuck me eyes boring into his own. He had never gotten so hard, so fast. She had barely even touched him, and he was already leaking from his tip, and he has to swallow down the embarrassment, he wasn’t a fourteen-year-old boy, yet she’d reduced him to acting as such in mere minutes. 

“You need- please, get this off.” He’s yanking at her shirt, trying desperately to pull it over her head, and she complies, pulling the fabric up and revealing the plain bra she had on underneath. She smirks (actually smirks, god, she really was a minx) at the way Harry’s gaze drops down and scans back up to her face, his pupils blown out and his lids heavy against them. 

He really needed to pull himself together, he’d already had his tongue between her legs before, yet the sight of her in a bra made him pull uncomfortably at his jeans, trying to get the fabric to feel less suffocating on his cock. 

They make their way to Harry’s bedroom, the movement a little awkward since Y/N had only been in his apartment once or twice. She would rather have opened her eyes and walked there herself, but each time she would try to pull back, Harry was pulling her closer to him twice as hard. She gives up after the third time, letting him blindly lead her to his room, only bumping into a corner once. 

The way they’re kissing is messy, all tongues, teeth, and noses bumping against each other, and when he lays her down and presses his weight on top of her own, she has to hold back her groan. He was so warm and sturdy above her that she could feel the muscles of his shoulders even through his clothes. 

He pulls back, smiling down at the woman beneath him, taking a moment to appreciate the way; even in the moonlight streaming in through his partially opened blinds, her eyes still look so bright and lively. It was corny and all, but it looked like they were sparkling. Harry takes a moment to imagine they only ever looked like that when she looked at him, even if he didn’t quite know if that was true. 

“Ya look so pretty right now, like a goddess or somethin.’” She rolls her eyes and laughs, shoving his shoulder lightly, but Harry doesn’t miss the gentle hue of pink that spreads across her cheeks. 

“Cos’ I’m underneath you, right? Only time I look this good?” It’s Harry’s turn to roll his eyes. “Certainly helps, but no. You’re this pretty all the time.”

Y/N doesn’t have time to respond before he’s leaning down with his mouth open against her neck, each breath tickling the skin there. “Must not tell you enough if you don’t believe it.” 

Y/N closes her eyes, enjoying his closeness against her and how it tickles even more when he speaks. It’s only when he scrapes his teeth against her pulse that she rocks up against him, haphazardly meeting Harry’s hips which were grinding down against her. 

The friction is so sweet after so long, and they moan in unison, Y/N’s back arching as Harry continues to rock his hips against her. He was so fucking close, she could feel the heat of him pressed against her, each thrust nudging her clit perfectly, and she grabs the curls at the back of Harry’s head, tugging his head so his mouth met hers again. 

Harry's surprised gasp when Y/N unexpectedly flips him over is music to her ears. He’s unsure how she even had the strength to do it, but he doesn’t have time to wonder as her soft lips dragging against his slightly rough neck works to distract him. She nibbles at the skin, taking time to soothe each bite with a swipe of her tongue, working her way down to the gentle jut of his collarbone against his skin, licking against the laurels present there too. 

He’s torn between letting out an emasculating giggle at the tickling feeling and groaning at the sensual way she’s sucking and nipping; each kiss getting lower and lower till she’s pushing at the unbuttoned lapel of his shirt to teasingly lick at his nipple. He jerks at the feeling, a whispered, “fuck,” leaving him. 

He felt so wound up, so tightly strung that each touch, no matter how hard, was slowly working to undo him. Harry felt as if he was about to burst, but god, the way she was unbuttoning his shirt and pressing gentle kisses against each newly presented slither of skin was sending shivers down his spine. 

Finally, she gets to the waistband of his pants, and embarrassingly, Harry is already bucking his hips up against her, whining when she stubbornly pushes them back down each time. She’s killing him. Gently licking at the stripe of hair trailing up his lower tummy, kissing along his hipbones and biting amorously at his fingers as they keep trying to undo his belt until he's a whimpering mess beneath her. Each touch that doesn’t serve to satisfy the ever-growing and painful bulge in his pants brings him closer to flat-out begging- and he realises with a start that it’s exactly what she wants. 

“Plea-fuck. Please, Y/N.” 

She grins up at him as if he’d just asked about how her day was, not like she’d been torturing him for the past ten minutes. “What?” Any other time he really would find her little nose scrunch endearing, but currently, it's the last thing on his mind. 

He throws his head back on the pillow behind him in frustration. “Fuckin’ hell, please just do something!” 

Instantly she’s tugging at his belt, pulling it through the loops and undoing the button of his slacks. “Okay, you just had to ask, jeez.” And he really is about to kill her, thinking of how exactly he could get her on her back and choke her while his fingers are slamming into her when his thoughts are abruptly interrupted when she nuzzles and sucks at the tip of his cock through his underwear. 

“Fuck!” He cries out. He couldn’t help it, the touch so unexpected and so, so fucking good he felt his legs already shaking. The little vixen is smiling up at him, tonguing his slit and humming around him, rolling her eyes at the salty taste of his precum. 

Harry pulls her by the hair, pulling her back long enough to grab his cock out of his underwear, hissing at the relief it brings and instantly groaning as she’s tugging against his hold, desperate to get her mouth back on him. 

Sucking his head back into her mouth feels ten times better without the cloth between them, the smooth and wet surface of her tongue sweeping against his slit and the sensitive skin of his frenulum causing him to push her head rather than pull it, silently begging her for more friction. And thankfully, she obliges, taking more of his shaft down her throat and sweeping her tongue against the underside as she goes, bobbing her head back and forth in a rhythm that leaves Harry breathless. 

He can feel how her throat tightens and constricts each time she pulls him down further, and he seriously struggles not to buck up each time, instead letting her do her own thing and take him in her own time. 

She pulls back, saliva dripping from her mouth and her voice croaky and broken, “can you fuck my mouth? Please?” She really doesn't have to give him those silly puppy dog eyes. Harry thinks he’d do just about anything she asked him at this point. 

He moans and grabs her head, pushing her down as far as she can go. He feels her nose smush against the tuft of hair on his pubic bone before he pulls her back up, repeating the process and gasping out each time her throat squeezes around his sensitive head. 

“Fuckin’ hell. You’re so good. You’re too good for me.” 

She’s moaning and gasping for air each time Harry pulls up long enough to let her, giving him those fucking eyes and Harry just about loses it, yanking her hair until she’s completely off him. She’s sucking in air so quickly that Harry starts to feel a little concerned, although it works to stave off his impending orgasm. One more second of her mouth around him, and he absolutely would’ve been cumming down her throat. 

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” 

She glances up at him, and it’s only a second before she’s pouncing on him, opening her mouth and sweeping her tongue against him, Harry moaning at the taste of saliva and cum lingering there. She’s muttering in between kisses, “so fuckin’ good. You’re so hot.” 

Laughing, Harry throws her against the bed, turning her over onto all fours and yanking her hips up; Y/N moaning at how he was treating her like a ragdoll. Harry takes a moment to admire the soft curve of her waist, she really was sexy, and Harry feels his prick throb at the thought of her soft cunt sucking him in. 

It’s like he can’t get her clothes off fast enough, unbuttoning her jeans from behind and yanking them down her legs, grinning at the giggle Y/N lets out at his haste. They meet eyes as he pulls her pants and underwear around her ankles and onto the floor below them. While this whole experience had felt rushed and passionate, he took a moment to revel in the soft look of humour in her eyes. The way her hair is mussed up from him throwing her around and the gentle smile pulling at her lips. She must be noticing these things about Harry too, because her gaze softens as they hold each other's gaze, Harry pressing a gentle kiss to the swell of her ass and squeezing her hips gently. 

He really, really likes her. 

The thought scares him and makes his heart swell all at once. 

The wiggling of Y/N’s hips brings his attention away from his mushy feelings and into the scene in front of them. He feels slightly bad as he realises Y/N has gotten almost no pleasure herself from this experience yet, choosing to focus solely on his own pleasure, and well, that just won’t do. 

Using his thumbs, he parts the puffy lips of her pussy, biting his lip as her slick clings to each one. Like she knows what insane view he has in front of him, she groans, wiggling her hips in protest of Harry admiring her and not doing anything about it. 

He dives in and listens in pleasure as her low groan transforms into a high-pitched whine, her face buried into the sheets before her, her hands clutching to them like a lifeline. Without even looking, Y/N can tell her knuckles are white with how hard she’s grasping at the duvet; each lick of Harry’s tongue against her hole forces her to rut forwards and for her whole body to tense in pleasure.

He’s eating her out like a lifeline, sweeping his tongue around and into her pussy, leaning down and suckling her clit, his nose rubbing against the sensitive opening of her hole. Y/N squeals with delight when he even licks around her tighter puckered hole, pressing the tip of his tongue inside and sucking at her rim.

He wants desperately to keep tasting her, but his cock is screaming at him from below, begging to be sucked in by her slick slit. So he stands, pushing her forward until he can fit behind her on the bed on his knees, and gently presses the head of his dick against her budding cunt; groaning deeply at the feeling of her walls contracting around him already.

“Fuck Harry, gonna stretch me out.” She moans, reaching behind and squeezing at the hand on her waist, her heart beating a little faster when he intertwines their hands and squeezes back. 

“Yeh? Think you can take it all?” She nods, mewling and trying desperately to look behind her and see his cock entering her, to no avail. “Yeh, I can. C’mon, Haz, give it to me, please.” 

And well, Harry can’t say no to that. He slams into her. So hard that Y/N has to push her hand back onto the bed to support her weight, each press of Harry’s hips lurching her forward. Again and again his tip hits the bottom of her cervix, the feeling just budding on the edge of too painful, but for now the pleasure outweighs it. 

She’s so loud it sends shivers down Harry’s spine, “shh,” he soothes, although it completely negates how the front of his thighs slam into the back of hers. “It’s alright, y’alright”, he reassures, trying to quiet her upsetting cries as he slows his movements. The loss of friction was too much, and she reached back around her legs, blindly grasping at Harry’s hip in an attempt to get him to keep moving. 

She cries out again when he grabs her hand and squeezes lightly but makes no attempt to push back into her, “oh babe, you crying for me already?” he tugs at her until she realises what he’s trying to do, slipping onto her back and gladly accepting the kiss he presses against her panting mouth, “just wanna see your pretty face, yeh?” 

She nods, unsure what else he wants, but she understands. She wants to see him too. 

He resumes his movements, although this time, his pace isn’t fast as it had been, no. It was slow but hard, pushing her forward with each press of his hips, his tip nudging so deep inside her she felt dizzy. 

“God, just listen to you. Such a whiny whore, fuckin’ hell,” he’s met with more whines in response, the effect of them tenfold now he can actually see how her face screws up in pleasure each time he thrusts into her. Her fingers grasp down at the hand he has splayed against her waist, and he mindlessly lets her guide it wherever she wants. 

It’s only when he notices that she’s bringing his hand up to her throat do his thrusts falter, a low moan leaving his chest as she places his fingers and thumb on either side of her neck. He recovers and squeezes lightly, “maybe this will shut you up, yeh?” She nods desperately, the only thing on her mind being Harry, Harry, Harry. He feels her tightening around him at his words, and he has to consciously stop himself from choking her too hard as he loses himself in the pleasure.

Each thrust feels harder and deeper than the last, and Y/N struggles to keep up with what Harry is saying; it goes in one ear and straight out the other. “Look at you, god,” he laughs condescendingly, “you’re that fuckin’ cock-drunk.” She nodded and whined because god, he was right, she could hardly focus on a thing he was saying, the tiny remnants of alcohol in her system and Harry’s proximity making her absolutely dizzy. 

He laughs again, feeling drunk with the power she was giving him. She sat plainly in the palm of his hand, letting him twist her body this way and that, letting him grasp at her throat like a lifeline and taking it all and loving it at that.

Harry can feel how much she loves it, and it makes him want to scream.

He gives her another rough thrust, pausing to grind deeply into her once he reaches the hilt and watches as tears spill from her clenched eyes. She had tried so hard to keep them in, had felt the burning sensation begin to well as Harry’s cock grinded roughly against the sensitive spot inside of her. 

She feels him slow, “hey, hey, you alright?” She sniffles gently, “Y/N take a breath.” He watches as another tear slips down her cheek, gently wiping it with his thumb, “do you usually cry?” 

The look she gives him makes his heartbreak. He honestly couldn’t read it- didn’t know if it was pain or longing, desperation or despair. He begins to pull out, but her hand grasping at his waist and her cry of dejection makes him pause some. He’s close to begging her at this point. 

“Please talk to me. Is it just with me? Do you want me to stop?” She sniffles again but shakes her head, “please don’t stop. It’s just- so,” her voice cracks, a small sob leaving her, “it’s so much, feels so intense.” 

He nods and kisses the corner of her mouth so gently that Y/N feels like crying for a completely different reason. “It’s okay, I’m here. You’re alright.” He holds her tightly and begins slowly pushing into her once more. She meets his eyes again, and Harry feels a pang of longing deep in his chest at how absolutely wrecked but desperate she looked.

And god, he gets it. He didn’t know if it was his feelings that were making this feel so intense, but he had never experienced anything like this before, and he completely understood why Y/N was in tears below him. It was like every nerve ending was alight; each tiny movement caused jolts of pleasure through him, like the simple fact of her body being against his was enough to make him close to cumming. 

He feels every squeeze around his prick, feels every gasp and groan she lets out deep in his chest. Even now, as she throws her head back, Harry knows she’s close to her peak- though he’d never had sex with her like this before, it was like he could tell what she needed before she could even begin to voice it herself. 

He wraps his hand around her jaw, his fingers pressing hard enough that the soft skin of her cheek is dimpled underneath them. She opens her mouth, and Harry doesn’t hesitate to slip fingers inside it, pressing down on her tongue as it laps desperately at his fingertips. 

“Harry, spi-,” she cuts herself off with a moan. Harry cocks his head, “what was that, sweetheart?” 

She tries again, “spit- spit on me,” he can hardly make it out, but when she pulls back slightly, opens her mouth and sticks her tongue out, Harry almost passes out. 

She was gonna fuckin’ kill him. 

He doesn’t hesitate, letting a string of saliva slip from between his lips and into her awaiting mouth, watching her throat constrict as she swallows it down with a moan. 

Harry begins to sloppily rub at her clit, and Y/N grits her teeth, grabbing at Harry’s wrist and squeezing tightly as the sensation of her impending orgasm sweeps through her. She throws her head back as the feeling finally overcomes her.

“Oh my god, are you fuckin’ coming?” He laughs condescendingly. “Fucking hell, you’re even sluttier than I thought. Just need to rough you up and spit on you a bit, and that’s it?” 

She honestly couldn’t comprehend what Harry was actually saying to her. Her orgasm was just too overwhelming. It was all-consuming, white heat burning through her and Y/N could hardly stop herself from bucking up underneath him. It felt like it was never going to end, this feeling, and honestly, Y/N’s not sure she’d mind. The idea of getting lost in Harry, his smell, his taste, his touch, forever, wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. 

As the light show behind her eyes finally begins to fade, she feels Harry’s hips falter, once, twice, three times, before he’s pressing inside her as far as he can, leaning over her and letting out the prettiest little moans Y/N had ever heard. She ignores the mild discomfort at Harry pushing inside of her oversensitive cunt. Instead, she wraps her arms around him and pulls him closer, holding his torso against her heaving chest as he works through his orgasm. 

Finally, she feels his breathing even out, and he begins to hold her back, slipping out of her gently and cooing at her when she hisses at the feeling. “I know, baby, I know. I’m sorry.” 

Y/N’s heart pounds at the feelings welling up inside her, she feels overwhelmed by them, and her chest begins to hurt. It was like a fire inside of her, so much passion and… love. Y/N shudders at the idea of that, and just as quickly as she feels it burning inside her, she feels it fades when she remembers Harry referring to her as his ‘friend.’  

She didn’t have to read into this. The rational part of her can safely assume that he didn’t want his friends asking too many questions, particularly when she and Harry hadn’t had the chance to answer them between themselves yet, but there's a tiny part of her that keeps niggling away. Keeps screaming at her to run before she gets attached to someone who doesn’t want to commit back, but she’s not sure she could believe Harry wouldn’t want that. 

He had been so charming and caring these last few weeks, going out of his way to spend time with her, even if it meant he had to sit on the floor of her office during lunch and even if it meant he would grouch at her about how much his back hurt because of it. 

She can’t imagine the man still wrapped around her would be so malicious to purposefully lead her on. He’d tell her if he wasn’t interested in her like that, right? 

He begins to run his hands through her hair, carefully detangling the knots he runs into on the way. It feels good, and he huffs a laugh at the shiver that wracks through Y/N’s body.

Leaning back, he gently holds her jaw, rubbing his thumb across her eyebrow, down the bridge of her nose and over her cupid's bow before kissing her lips gently. 

It truly felt as if he could read her thoughts and had purposefully tried to quell them, the kiss so careful and full of tenderness. 

“Like you a lot, ya know.” 

Harry’s heart clenches at the look she gives him, and he has to press another kiss to her lips. She’s already smiling when he pulls back, a blush spreading over her cheeks in embarrassment as if he hadn’t just fucked her within an inch of her life for the last hour. 

She was too stinkin’ cute. 

“I like you too,” she giggles. 

“Yeh?” He laughs back, attacking her neck with kisses, grinning at the tinkling laughter it pulls from her. 

Harry’s not sure how many times he had to say it, but fucking hell, he truly was fucked. 

—-

The cool air of Harry’s living room causes goosebumps to pimple along Y/N’s bare legs. Her oversized shirt from the day before doesn’t provide any added warmth, and she briefly wonders if she should turn around and rummage through Harry’s draws for something to cover her legs. He’d left enough items of clothing at her house over the last month they’d been sleeping together, always claiming to forget them after they were thrown off ‘in a fit of 'passion’ (his words, not hers) but didn’t seem to mind when Y/N happened to wear them.

He said they looked better on her anyway.

Perhaps she could steal a pair of sweatpants or his oversized basketball shorts. (She’d been gunning for a specific pair of sweats Harry had, grey with a soft fleece lining, but Harry had caught on pretty quickly after the third time they’d gone missing from his apartment and magically ended up at hers. Somehow these didn’t make the cut of things she was allowed to steal. She was sure the little prick had purposefully been hiding them from her, and she wondered if now would be a good time to look for them, while Harry was distracted by the warmth from the shower.)

Alas, the sound of the front door opening completely derails Y/N’s sneaky plan, sending her in a panicked frenzy instead as she watches Mitch and Sarah walk through the door. Y/N’s pretty comfortable with nudity, but right now, with two of Harry’s best friends (both utterly oblivious that the two were fucking behind their backs), looking at her bare legs makes Y/N shrink inwards slightly. The only action her scrambled mind can think of doing is pulling the hem further down her legs, fully aware that she probably currently looked like a stunned mullet. Hair sticking out all which ways and her eyes so wide they had started to water from the breeze the air conditioner had created. 

“Y/N?” Mitch and Sarah looked just as shocked as she did, standing in the doorway, mouths open and feet frozen in their spots. Mitch has the decency to avert his eyes slightly as he sees Y/N’s pantless predicament while Sarah is stuck looking between the half-naked girl in front of her and her own boyfriend, fully knowing if Harry had told anyone but her about his secret relationship, it would be him. 

“Fuck- Mitch, Sarah. I’m so sorry.” That’s the only thing Y/N can think of. She’s sorry. So fucking sorry. And she doesn’t even know why! Sorry, she’d gotten caught? Sorry, she’d gotten involved with someone who wasn’t interested in telling his two best friends? Y/N doesn’t know. All she can process is the shame squeezing at her tummy with an iron fist. 

They’re interrupted by Harry walking out of the bathroom in only slightly more clothes than Y/N, the very sweatpants she had been planning on stealing sitting low on his hips, and his toned torso glistening with water from his shower. 

“Y/N! Do you wanna make french toast for break- Sarah? What the fuck!” He stops dead in his tracks, looking between the beet-red Y/N and his two friends, who seem to have been frozen in the doorway. 

“We could say the same to you, Harry. What the fuck is happening here?” 

—-

The table is awkwardly silent, all four of them sitting in their own thoughts, watching the french toast cool. The only sound echoing through Harry’s dining room is Mitch’s fingers, nervously drumming at the table. 

He’s interrupted by a frustrated Harry, “can ya stop that?” 

Y/N instinctively places her hand on Harry’s thigh in a soothing gesture, and she watches as Sarah’s eyes follow the movement. 

She removes her hand. 

Honestly, she didn’t know why she felt so weird. Y/N and Harry were touchy-feely all the time. It wasn’t like how they were acting was completely opposite from normal, but she guesses it was different this time. This time Sarah knew Harry had been lying to her. 

And look, Y/N and himself had spoken about this a few times, Y/N thinking the sooner they told them, the better, while Harry was firm in believing it wasn’t their business and he would tell them when he felt ready- so much for that plan.

Y/N was supportive of his decision, though. They were his friends, and if Harry felt more comfortable with their relationship (whatever that relationship was) being a secret for now, well, Y/N would support Harry in that. She thinks she’d just about do anything Harry asked of her if she was honest, and she’s still not sure if that was necessarily a good thing- look how this had turned out. 

“Uh, look, I’m sorry for lying-” 

“Why? Why would you both lie about this?” The look Sarah gives him makes his chest hurt and his stomach turn in anxiety. He gets it. He really does. They never lied to each other; Sarah was the one person he told everything to. He imagines if she had been seeing Mitch for months without at least telling him she was interested in him, and his tummy tightens. “I’m happy for you both, I really am. I just don’t understand why you felt you had to hide it from us.” 

“Yeh, does this mean you weren’t actually going to that pottery class?” Harry forces himself not to roll his eyes at Mitch’s contribution because, of course, that's all he cares about. (He’d been so excited when Harry had fed him that excuse, claiming, “shit man, nice ceramics aren’t cheap, this is great!” Harry had felt a little guilty when he’d actually gone over to Y/N’s apartment, but he got over it pretty quickly when she pushed him against the wall and sucked him off in the front hallway the second he arrived.)

He turns to Sarah instead, “Look, I am really sorry. I- time just got away from us. I wasn’t ready for the whole office to know, and I wanted to just keep it between us while we figured it out. I’m sorry.” Y/N stops herself from noting that she’s not sure they even had figured it out just yet. She was still a little lost as to whether they were friends who liked sleeping together or what but didn’t say anything. 

Instead, she grabs Harry’s hand, squeezing it in solidarity and sending a small smile over to Sarah. “I’m sorry too.” 

“I wouldn’t have told the whole office, Haz. I wouldn’t have done that.” She looks so sad. Harry hates seeing her like this. “I know, Sarah, I’m sorry.” 

She nods and sends a tight smile across the table, slowly becoming genuine as she notices Harry’s fingers slotted between Y/N’s. “So… are you together now, or?”

They share a glance, and Y/N feels anxiety slither up her throat. She leans in, almost as curious to hear his answer as Sarah seemed to be. Harry grins and nods slowly, “uh yeah. I think so. We haven’t necessarily discussed it yet,” he sends a pointed glare at Sarah, who has the decency to look sheepish, before turning back to Y/N, “but um, yeah. I’d like to be.” 

Y/N nods, bringing his hand to her mouth and pressing a kiss against the soft skin of his knuckles. God, she wanted that so bad.

He had to know. If the starry-eyed look was anything to go off, he had to have some kind of clue. 

And of course, he did, Harry had been trying to find the time to have the conversation with Y/N for weeks, but they always seemed a little busy, either too deep in conversation or too enraptured with each other and he figured she knew how he felt after his hazy post-orgasm confession.

But Harry couldn’t imagine sitting with anyone else at lunch or watching criminal minds with someone that wasn’t Y/N. He couldn’t picture anyone else reading through his meeting notes and retyping them after he fell asleep because they were too messy or teasing anyone else in the office. He couldn’t imagine touching anyone else the way he touched Y/N, and he couldn’t picture anyone reacting to him the same way she did. It didn’t seem possible for anyone else to fit him the way she did or for anyone else to make him feel so fucking lost in how much he liked them. Their lips just slotted together a little too perfectly, and she just happened to challenge him in the exact right way.

He turns back to Sarah, “yeah, we're dating.” 

A gentle flush settles against his cheeks, his teeth gnawing gently at his bottom lip. Y/N really couldn’t believe how beautiful he was and how lucky she was that he was hers.

God, she really was fucked. 

----

Follow up can be found here :)

TAGLIST

@ndunad @eddiestyles-harrymunson @thhsbitch @michellekstyles @captainchrisstan @styles-weasley @chubby-cheek-calum @yourhsficsplug @chanelhearts777

[pimosworld]

The story of us chapter 5

Triple frontier boys x f!reader

Summary- Set before you and the boys are officially together and how you came to be.

Chapter summary- Frankie takes you flying and your relationship to new heights.

CW- 18+,MDNI, to avoid spoilers I will be posting a link for warnings. Link

WK-6k

Notes- See story Masterlist for full chapter notes. This chapter was so fun to write, my first time writing a solo Frankie. He starts off shy but quickly gains his confidence.

Not beta read

[Series Masterlist] [Main Masterlist]

Chapter V Flying without Falling

————————————

11:54 pm

  Frankie can’t sleep as he lies awake staring at the ceiling fan. Every creak and noise the house makes has him on edge. He shouldn’t care this much but it’s starting to get under his skin and root itself deep somewhere he dare not explore. Before he can fully run away with his intrusive thoughts he hears the front door open and close. He breathes a sigh of relief knowing Benny actually came home after your date. 

  Maybe Santi was right,he shouldn’t be this jealous of his best friends going on a date. But jealousy doesn’t seem like the right word either, he wants to be included, he couldn’t possibly go on as a spectator if you decided to have a relationship. It’s entirely too late for all these thoughts and he’s getting way ahead of himself.

  He would call you normally when his thoughts ran wild. Why would now be any different? The only difference now is that he knows you’ll pick up. Over the last several months that certainly wasn’t the case. Before he can second guess himself he picks up his phone and calls you. 

  ****

You’re seated on your couch staring at the blank screen of the tv replaying the night in your head. You really should go wash your face and get some sleep but you can’t stop thinking about that kiss. You can’t stop thinking about everything he did for you. The feeling was so alien being treated as if you were a Disney princess. Ben was always sweet but this was a side of him you’ve never seen. You could definitely get used to it. 

  Incoming call Francisco

  “Hey Frankie, is everything okay?” Your voice is laced with concern at this late hour he’s calling.

  “Ugh…ya I’m sorry I called so late.” I just wanted to hear your voice. “I just needed to talk to you about something.”

  “Okay.” At midnight? You wait patiently for his response. 

  “So how was your date?” Jesus Francisco you just couldn’t help yourself. He thinks you're silent for a little too long, maybe he can just hang up and pretend this never happened.

  “It was really nice actually, but is that why you called?” You don’t want to give too many details, it just seems odd to talk about with him right now. 

  “No…I guess I should just spit it out. I got my license back and I start in a few days but I’m nervous.” He has to hold the phone away from his ear before he goes deaf at your excited squeal. 

  “Frankie, that's amazing, how come you didn’t tell us yesterday?” You can hear indistinct rustling on the other end. 

  “I didn’t think it was appropriate with everything going on…last night didn’t exactly scream tell everyone your good news.”

  “That’s sweet of you but I would’ve genuinely been excited with all the drama that went on. Life doesn’t revolve around me and my shitty dating life.” It kind of pains you that he put off such a happy announcement to not take attention off you. You know how hard he’s been working to get his license back and this means everything to him. Losing his license was like stripping his identity from him.

  “Listen hermosa, I know it’s last minute but I remember you saying you have tomorrow off…would you be willing to be my first passenger. I don’t want to be rusty in front of the clients on my first day.” He knows you know he’s full of shit. He is the most competent pilot and there’s no way he’s rusty. You’ve seen him in the deadliest situations somehow be cool, calm and collected. 

  “Of course Frankie, I would love to.” You’re certain he doesn’t need any practice but you decide to play along, it’s adorable when he’s nervous. 

  “Meet me at our house around noon and I’ll drive us to the site.” 

  “That sounds like a plan…you should get some sleep if you’re gonna be flying us safely tomorrow.” A little teasing goes a long way with him and you just can’t help yourself. 

  “Very funny, I’ll see you tomorrow Honey good night.” 

  “Goodnight Francisco.” 

  Sleep would not come easily for either of you that night. 

  ****

  Frankie’s not sure how much sleep he got last night, tossing and turning thinking about you. Trying not to think about how his life ended up the way it did. It was hard not to be in his head about his setbacks and inadequacies. He’s a grown man living with his two best friends. He should be able to afford a place on his own and be more independent, but he managed to fuck that up with this coke charge and losing his license.

  He really needed to relax and not let his thoughts run away with him. It wouldn’t be any help today. 

  He rolls out of bed suddenly more aware of every ache and pain in his body, it’s hard to say when he noticed himself getting older. He’s been ready for some time to settle down but had all but given up on finding something worthwhile.

  He pads down the hallway already hearing  the clanking of dishes and the strong smell of coffee.

He enters the kitchen to see the two fit shirtless blondes, one more thing to be insecure about. 

   “Mornin’ Fish.” Will looks up at him from his seat at the table. Frankie gives him a half smile as he slides into the seat across from him. 

  “Rough night?” You could say that 

  “Ya, didn’t sleep much. I was up worried about today.” 

  “What’s happening today?” Benny joins at the table sliding a cup of coffee to him. He scrubs a hand behind his neck deciding what approach to take with the news. 

  “Well I’m flying today. I got my license back.” Will looks up from his phone wide eyed as Benny jumps up nearly knocking the table over.

  “Holy shit man that’s amazing, why didn’t you say anything?” 

  “I was afraid it might not happen so I wanted to wait…I found out Friday and ugh Saturday didn’t seem like the right time to mention it.” Ben and Will exchange glances, neither of them needing to say why.

  “So you start today,what’s your schedule like?” Will stands from the table to refill his coffee.

  “No…I start tomorrow. I’m taking Honey up today to practice.” Lies 

  “Bullshit.” Ben leans back in his chair crossing his arms as Will tries to contain his laughter. Frankie mimics Ben's posture as he stares him down. 

  “You and I both know you don’t need practice.I do have to admit though, a helicopter is a nice move.”

  Frankie relaxes a little at the teasing Ben gives him. The younger man is obviously not bothered by it, he almost seems happy for him. 

  “We’ll Benjamin we can’t all have rock hard abs, some of us have to pull out other means of flattery.” 

  “Well Fish I’m happy for you and I hope you enjoy your date.” There’s no tone of sarcasm or anything to suggest that he’s lying.

  Will stands there in awe and shock at the absurdity of it all. How could they possibly be this chill about dating the same woman let alone you?

  “Speaking of dates, how was yours?” He raises an eyebrow at him playfully. 

  “I know you’ve been dying to ask. It was great, we saw a movie and went to the diner for burgers and shakes and then I dropped her off at home.” He’s not sure if he should include the last part. The conversations have been going well so far. 

  “What a modern day romance and you even had her home by curfew.” Ben flips him off as he stands from the table. 

  “I was gonna let you off easy but since you want to tease, I did get a good night kiss.” Will grabs his chest in fake shock. 

  “Good for you bud.” Frankie pays him on the shoulder as he stands. He can’t help but grin thinking about what he heard when you were in the shower. A sudden burst of confidence flows through his veins. 

  “As much as I’d love to watch this sad pissing contest, we need to get to the gym Ben.” 

  “Alright coach.” He pulls Frankie into a hug before heading down the hallway. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He calls out from over his shoulder. 

  Will just rolls his eyes as Frankie retreats back to his room on the opposite end of the house. 

  Maybe this could work out after all. 

  ****

  Here you are again, tossing clothes about your room undecided on what to wear. This is supposed to be a casual day with Frankie and you can’t seem to get your head on straight. Let’s not add to the fact that you can’t be late. 

  It’s a beautiful sunny day in Florida so you decide to throw on some jean shorts, your army tank top and some black slip on vans. There’s no time to overthink this as you run out to the door to head to their house. You left yourself enough time to stop and grab something for Frankie, you were technically celebrating getting his license back and you wanted to surprise him.

  You pull up to the pristine suburban home they all share, you know Will had every attention to detail to keep the Miller family home in great condition. You have a slight panic when you see that Ben's truck is still in the driveway, you weren’t quite ready to confront what it is you were doing. To be honest you weren’t entirely sure if you knew yourself. 

  Frankie sees you pull up, he’s been pacing around the living room unable to relax. The excited nervous energy coursing through his veins at the thought of flying again and seeing you. 

  You can see Frankie leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed, he has a well fitted black shirt and blue jeans with his signature cap on. He’s just smiling at you as you make your way up the path to their house. 

  “I’m not that late am I?” You’re swinging the small gift bag back and forth on your finger as you hold it out to him. 

  “No but I saw you pull up and got excited.” He’s practically beaming at you. The happiest you’ve seen him in a long time. “I hope whatever’s in that bag is not for me.”

  “You’ll just have to open it and find out.” He grabs the bag from you slowly peeking inside, a medium size black box reveals some brand new aviator sunglasses. 

  “You didn’t have to do this.” You can hear the slight quiver in his voice and you’re so happy with your choice. 

  “I’m getting a free tour in the sky, it’s the least I could do.” He pulls you into a tight hug and you inhale his fresh woodsy scent, you recognize it as the body wash you bought him because you insisted he stop using the 3in1 crap that Ben used. 

  You’re standing in the doorway, neither of you wanting to break the hug, you lightly scratch your nails as you rub his back and a low growl emits from his chest on your cheek. 

  “We need to go before I change my mind.” He grabs your hand and places a kiss on your fingers before turning around to lock up. 

  Ben must not be home, thankfully you can deal with that later and just enjoy your afternoon with the old Frankie who seems to be making an appearance. 

  Frankie jogs ahead of you when you head towards his truck to open the door, he already has his sunglasses on and you curse under your breath a little at the sight. You’ve inadvertently made this day even harder for yourself now that you have to try not to ogle him, but the way his muscles flex in his shirt and the way his jeans are fitting you find your resolve breaking little by little. 

  You hop in the front seat and just before he closes the door he stops and stares at you. “I forgot to tell you how good you look today.” Fuck you’re not gonna make it. 

  The ride to the airfield is mostly spent in comfortable silence as you both trade glances at each other, it was so easy with him to just be. No expectations or insecurities. You often wondered how women didn’t realize what a catch he was, you’re glad in this moment no one has stuck around long enough to see what a massive failure it was to let this man go. 

  ****

  You were making it so hard for him to focus as you made your way to the chopper he was using for the day. The army tank top and short shorts doing nothing to hide your curves. 

  He could tell you were carrying yourself differently than the other day. A part of him was grateful for your date with Benny that seemed to bring some peace to your otherwise chaotic weekend. 

  A helicopter used to bring the sight of hell for the both of you, going on missions unsure if you would make it out alive, but now the way you turn and smile at him, practically bouncing with excited energy he thinks it may be heaven. 

  “We’ll see if I remember how to fly one of these.” You can almost see the faint wink behind his aviators as he holds the door open for you and you climb into the comfy leather seat. He buckles you in tugging on the straps to make sure they’re secure. He’s desperately trying to keep this as professional as possible but he sees the way you’re looking at him and he just wants to lean in and kiss you. He tears himself away closing the door behind him before he loses all form of concentration. 

  You wanted him too, and he almost did but you know he needs to focus. Even though he’s flown much larger aircrafts than this countless times, he still doesn’t want to jeopardize his second chance at life. And if you’re correct about your assumption there would be plenty of time for that. 

  “You know I have strapped myself in a few times.” He’s focused on the task at hand but you can see him smirking as he flips to switches and waits for the all clear to take off. 

  “I know you have hermosa but I’m supposed to be practicing so just pretend you’re a passenger. 

  What is it with these boys and pretending? You’ll play along since it worked out in your benefit the last time.

  He hands you a headset before doing a final once over and you can feel that familiar drop in your stomach as you lift up. The thrum of the blades all you can hear at the moment. He always made it look so easy and he’s all but confirmed how little practice he actually needed. 

  Something about finally being in the sky again has his confidence soaring. He can feel it in his bones, the man he used to be trying to make an appearance. He’s trying to focus but he can’t stop looking at the way you smile when you see something you like. He misses seeing you like this, happy to be in the air. Although he doesn’t miss the reasons why you used to be in a helicopter.

  You’re trying to take in the sights, but you can’t help but stare at Frankie. The way he’s controlling this massive machine with ease. You can see it in the way he relaxes. His shoulders seem less tense. That smile you loved so much has returned without the slight underlying sadness. It’s intoxicating seeing him like this.

  “I missed seeing you in that seat next to me.” He glances over in enough time to notice you smile to yourself.

  You fly for a while just taking in the sight below, this was a version of your city you’ve never seen before and it’s truly mesmerizing. It breaks your heart knowing what he had to go through to get back to this place. Everyone has dealt with their demons in their own way. His demons almost took the most important things in his life away from him. 

  He doesn’t think he’s been this happy flying, seeing your face light up when you spot something you recognize or the fact that you so willingly agreed to come with him and make this day as special as possible. 

  “You’re pretty good with your hands Mr. Morales.” He raises an eyebrow at you wondering if the altitude has gone to your head. He needs to be safely on the ground if you’re going to call him that again.

  “I’m a pretend passenger, remember.”

  “My real passenger is an 80 year old man, I hope he doesn’t comment on how good I am with my hands.” You snort into the headset before erupting into full blown laughter and there it is again, that laugh that would bring any man to his knees.

  “You mean to tell me you’ve never flirted with a passenger?” He glances at you nervously playing with your straps over your chest as you look out below.

  “There was one time.” 

  “Well I hope it ended well for you.” You can see you’re almost back to the airfield and your heart drops a little at the day coming to an end.

  Let’s hope it does end well for me. 

  ****

  “So,what are your plans for the rest of the day?” He didn’t want to assume as he awaits your answer, suddenly so focused on the road as you make your way back to their house. 

  “I don’t have anything planned, I wasn’t sure if you had things you needed to take care of for tomorrow?” He looks a little confused and you can’t help but laugh at the deep crease in his brow. 

  “You know your first day back at work.” 

  “Oh, everything is all squared away. Although I was hoping you might want to stay a little while, I can make us lunch.” He sounds a little timid again but when you grab his hand not placed on the steering wheel and kiss his palm all his worries are washed away. 

  “I would say these hands have done enough today but I would be stupid if I said no to anything you cook.” He has other plans for you and his hands but he needs to focus on one thing at a time first lunch. 

  He already had a full plan for lunch that would’ve turned into Will and Bennys dinner if you decided not to stay. The conversation flowed easy as you both enjoyed grilled shrimp tacos and homemade ceviche. You hadn’t spent this much time together in months, it seemed you had a lot to catch up on. 

  You both confided in each other, it was so easy to talk about life and issues without being judged. The more Mike pulled you away left a gaping hole in both of your lives. You couldn’t possibly go back to that again. 

  Frankie’s washing the dishes, your plates having been completely cleared and has to stop what he’s doing at the sound of your obscenely loud yawn. He can’t help but laugh at your wide eyed expression, you obviously just as surprised by it as he was. 

  “I’m sorry, I’m just so content after that meal and honestly I got no sleep last night.” He dries his hands and makes his way over to you seated at the kitchen island. A mischievous glint in his eye. 

  “I have a bizarre request and you can say no if you want to. Seeing as though we both got zero sleep last night, do you want to take a nap?”

  “Yes!” You groan internally at your enthusiastic response. 

  He had a surge of confidence at your response as he got impossibly closer, stepping between your legs as he rubbed his hands up and down your thighs in a soothing motion. He leans in and you close your eyes bracing yourself for a kiss when you suddenly feel his lips brush your ear. 

  “Bed or couch?” You’re not certain you can breathe with the way his voice drops to a low register. His hands are like fire on your exposed thighs so close to where you want him to touch you. 

  “Couch?” It comes out in a breathy whisper as you attempt to clear your throat. “I think the couch is safer.” 

  He hasn’t so much as moved an inch and with his close proximity you’re afraid he can hear your heart beating out of your chest. 

  “Couch it is, but I’m not sure if it’s safer.” He takes your hand and guides you off the stool and it feels like you’re floating as you make your way to the living room. He sits in the corner, defaulting to his favorite spot despite having a choice of anywhere. He practically pulls you down with him as you settle in facing him with your head resting on his extended arm. Many a movie night you’ve fallen asleep in this exact position, but this feels different. 

  He pulls the blanket off the back of the couch to cover you as sleep already threatens to claim you. The sound of his steady heartbeat and the smell that you could only describe as him lulling you to sleep. 

  He doesn’t even think you realize you’re rubbing his back as you muzzle deeper into his chest, the feeling so domestic it makes his chest hurt a little. It’s like a knot that’s formed over time trying to loosen itself the further into sleep he goes. He only remembers the smell of your shampoo and your slow breaths before exhaustion takes him under. 

  ****

  The house is quiet…so quiet that he knows Ben and Will definitely aren’t home yet. The sun is still up but casting the orange hue that tells him it’s late in the afternoon. He doesn’t want to move too much because you’re still sleeping so peacefully. He is aware however that you have moved in your sleep, draping your leg over him like he’s a human body pillow. 

  Perhaps it’s a wicked Pavlovian response that his body betrays him in the moment as you're pinned against him. He’s growing harder in his jeans and every attempt to move you only causes you to stir further, involuntarily grinding your hips into him in a steady slow motion. 

  You’re having that dream again but this time it feels so real, too real as you feel the hard press of Frankie’s cock against your core. This time when you wake it’s not like a bucket of cold water being thrown on you. It’s softer, more intentional. 

  “Honey….honey?” It’s a little disorienting, but you can still smell him and see the light coming through the windows. You must not have slept for very long. You can feel his thumb tracing lines across your cheek and slowly register him saying your name. The sensation you were feeling in your dream hasn’t dissipated and you don’t dare look down as your haze begins to lift. 

  “I think you were having a dream.” His sleepy voice barely above a whisper. “You kept saying my name.” It seems you’re both in a predicament, him more so than you since he’s not actually in your head and you can feel evidently what’s pressed against you. 

  You hope maybe a change in subject will make him drop it or at the very least get the hint. It didn’t seem like the appropriate time to tell him that you can’t stop having sex dreams about your best friends. 

  “You know…you didn’t seem like you needed any practice today.” You shift on the couch to look up at him.

  “Maybe I told a little white lie.” He’s staring at you, a question hanging in the air of do you want this? He hasn’t moved his hand from your face as he slowly tilts it up further and leans in for a tender kiss. He’s been waiting all day, resisting the urge to kiss you the moment he opened his gift. 

  He’s waiting for you to pull away or say you don’t want this but that moment never comes as the soft kiss turns into a fight to get impossibly closer. His patience wore thin at the way you were saying his name in your sleep. Your hands are in his hair as he deepens this kiss, both of you trading moans in between breathing. He grips the thigh that’s slung over his hip as he pins you beneath him, the heavy comfortable weight of him grinding you into the couch. 

  You hate your brain for making you aware of your dry humping session being in the shared residence of the man you were also dating?

  “Wait…wait, I have a confession.” He stops suddenly hoping he hadn’t totally fucked this up by going to far. The moment feels like an eternity as he lets you catch your breath. 

  “I kissed Benny.” You’re bracing yourself for the moment he rolls off you and asks you to leave but he drops his head to your shoulder as he chuckles in your ear. 

  “Well just consider it even, since I’ve kissed Benny too.” Oh now he wants to make jokes. 

  “Yes I’m aware but it wasn’t less than 24 hours ago.” He raises an eyebrow at you and you silently curse yourself for assuming. “Unless it was…”

  “I’m just kidding, I had to mess with you a little.” You swat his chest playfully and breathe a sigh of relief. “Let’s just say Benny and I have come to a friendly agreement. 

  You’re not entirely sure what that means but you couldn’t care less as long as they know what’s going on even if you didn’t. 

  You try to pull him towards you again but he braces his right arm beside your head to stay upright, his left hand not having left your thigh throughout the interaction. 

  “I suppose if we’re being honest…I have a confession.” His tongue peeks out on his bottom lip as he mulls over how to approach, he has no idea how tempting it looks. 

  “I was going to wake you up yesterday but you were already in the shower.” Your throat is suddenly dry and your shoulders tense. “ I thought you were crying so I hesitated and then…I heard you say my name.” 

  There was no playing this off, not like your dream where he knew you were sleeping. This was perhaps the most mortified you’ve ever been. You wish you were anywhere but pinned under his literal and figurative gaze. 

  “I can explain.” No you can’t 

  “Tell me.” You try to move out from underneath him but he doesn’t budge. 

  “Frankie this isn’t fair.” 

  “No hermosa, you know what’s not fair.” His hand is slowly making its way up your thigh and your breathing is ragged. 

  “You had to take care of yourself when the hands you wanted to touch you were just on the other side of the door.” You don’t know when you lost control of the situation but here you are, stuck under him. He’s waiting for you to tell him to stop but your body has other plans and your lips won’t move.

  “Now tell me.” It’s not a question and this side of him has you faltering. 

  “Tell you what?” He leans down to kiss your lips but pulls away just as fast. 

  “What you were doing when you said my name.” He can’t be serious

  He’s searching your eyes for any sign you want this to stop but all he finds are your lust blown pupils. He decides upon seeing your excitement to try a different approach. 

  “Show me.” He waits to see if he made the right choice and you slowly move your hand from around his neck. No one has ever made you this nervous and excited at the same time. His confidence awakened something in you that you didn’t know existed. You slowly start to unbutton your shorts, never breaking eye contact. You can see his chest rising and falling, his resolve breaking a little spurring you on. 

  You dip your hand under the waistband of your lace panties, thanking yourself for being a little too optimistic about where the afternoon might lead. His eyes trail down your front as he battles with watching your face and watching where your hand has disappeared. He shifts to the side to give you room as you  slowly circle your clit with your middle finger. A small whimper escapes your lips and any embarrassment has been replaced with chasing this high. 

  You drag your finger through your slit as you dip a finger in trying to reach that spot at this awkward angle, you whine in frustration because your fingers aren’t enough with the way he’s been subtly working you up all afternoon. 

  He grabs your wrist and gently pulls your hand out of your shorts, you're wrapped in his every movement as he brings your fingers to his mouth to lick and suck every last drop from them. 

  “Let me show you.” His hands seem so much larger than yours as they make their way down your breast and across your abdomen, his trail painstakingly slow but you wouldn’t dare rush this moment. 

  He dips his hand into your shorts, dragging his fingers across your soft lace panties. “Frankie please…” You're hanging on by a thread and you need him to stop teasing you. 

  “You’re so sensitive, I’ve barely touched you.” You’re having deja because he’s said that before…or was that your dream. He dips one finger into your entrance as you arch your back. It’s too much and not enough as if he senses your frustration he plunges a second finger in slowly pumping in and out. 

  You drop your head onto the pillow as you softly moan his name. You can feel his cock grinding into your hip as he picks up the pace. He swallows your moans with his lips on yours. His name has never sounded sweeter than it does now as you chant his name. You’re ratcheted too tight as you feel the coil build, his fingers press down on the soft bundle of nerves and your toes curl in a blinding orgasm. You’re not sure when you gripped his hair like a lifeline as you slowly untangle your fingers while you come down from your high. 

  “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the way you said my name.” He’s placing soft kisses on your neck as he removes his hand, you’re suddenly feeling a little bold as you can feel how patient he was being. You palm his bulge through his jeans and he bucks his hip, groaning your name. 

  The sound of car doors slamming have you both looking at each other wide eyed. He grabs your hand and places it around his waist. “I need you to pretend to be asleep.” You open your mouth to speak but he shushes you with a kiss as he flings the blanket back over you both. Your pants are still unbuckled and he’s still very hard but right now as the keys jingle in the door you figure you can deal with it later. 

  The front door opens and you bury your face into his chest to hide your laughter at having to pretend once again. Ben’s yelling about something per usual as you hear Will shush him. 

  “Awww they look so peaceful.” You can feel Frankie squeeze your hip and it’s taking everything to calm your breathing. His chest is rising and falling steadily as he squeaks out a fake snore. He may seem peaceful but you can feel his rapid heartbeat against your cheek. 

  You hear footsteps getting further away and voices trailing as they make their way to the kitchen. Frankie can hear the fridge open and close and the sound of the water in the sink running. 

  “Can you button your shorts without moving too much?” He whispers into your temple. You nod your head as you slowly move your hand down to button them again, you try your best to avoid his problem that seems to be less obvious. When you’re finally decent you sit up peeking over the back of the couch. You signal for him to sit up and he hears footsteps approaching. He raises his arms above his head dramatically, stretching as you do your best-I just woke up eyes. It’s all ridiculously hilarious 

  “Good evening sleepyheads.” Ben plops down next to you on the couch and you sit up fully now in the middle of both men. 

  “Do you ugh…want some water?” Frankie’s standing to stretch now, his little belly exposed as his shirt lifts and you notice he’s still got a slight bulge but nothing that couldn’t be explained by how close you were sleeping. 

  “Yes please.” Your voice is a little hoarse from your nap or moaning Frankie’s name for too long. 

  He leaves you two on the couch and heads to the kitchen as Benny pulls you into his side and places a kiss on your temple. This has to be a record for times getting deja vu in one day. 

  “How was your date?” So they must’ve come to an agreement like Frankie said because he just called it a date without any malice in his tone. Just genuine curiosity and care. 

  “It was great actually.” Frankie returns with your water and sits back down next to you on the opposite side. He doesn’t seem bothered at all by you cuddling up with Ben and it’s bizarre territory you’re wading into. 

  “Well I hope you showed our girl a good time.” You’re sputtering your water as Frankie hides his amused face behind his hand. Ben is patting your back as Will enters the living room with beers in hand. 

  “Are you okay?” He hands the beers around as he tries to offer you one but you wave him off. 

  “I’m fine…but I really should be going. I have work early tomorrow and I really should get some sleep.” You all stand from the couch unsure of how to say goodbye. 

  Frankie pulls you into a hug and places a kiss on your forehead. “At least you got a nap today.” He winks at you and you pinch his side knowing he can’t make a sound. 

  “Don’t hog her, she was with you all day.” Ben picks you up as you yelp, he couldn’t resist that sound. He carefully sets you down and leans in to kiss your cheek. 

  You turn to see Will in the loveseat sipping his beer with an amused smirk on his face. “I swear to god Will.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender as both men are snickering beside you. 

  “I didn’t say anything sweetheart.” You make your way towards the door to grab your bag off the hook and you can feel all eyes on you. “ I’ll see you Friday to fix that hole in your wall.” 

  “Will…”

  “Don’t argue with him, it'll only make your life harder.” Ben knows his brother all too well so you decide to take his advice and drop it. 

  “Fine, I’ll call you later.”

  “Okay.” They all say in unison and erupt in laughter. 

  As you close the door behind you still hearing the faint sounds of your boys you realize how completely and utterly fucked you truly are.

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@luciferiorbxtch @alwaysdjarin @meveispunk @casa-boiardi @evyiione @littlenosoul @quijana5702 @shesa-riott @the-fox-den @saturn-rings-writes @romanarose @spngingerbread21 @spookyxsam @summer-may @imonmykneessir

Tagged a few extra who might be interested.

[caramelberzatto]

You dont have to write this but i truly don't know anyone who writes Carmy better than you!!!! Your work is literally my comfort piece <3 ok so I work in hospitality and have had the worst/ busiest schedule. i would love to read something where the reader has dealt with the rudest clients and calls carmy to pick her up and i have this visual where reader sees carmy leaning against his car and she just drops all her stuff and starts crying and he runs up to her hugs her and keeps saying "i got you" and then brings her home, makes her food, runs her a bath. then they go to bed and its all fluffy and maybe carmy wakes her up with a spicy surprise iykyk a lil smutty end...

bae i hear you, as a hospo girly myself, i FEEL THIS- it's so fucking sucky, and days like this are always the hardest, BUT WE GET THROUGH IT!!! you're strong babyyyy just keep earning that bag <3 (but i am also an advocate for getting a new job if you're not treated adequately and fairly <3)

okay but keeping a steely resolve all fucking day, even though the customers are being shitty, orders aren't being put through correctly, shit just isn't going smoothly at all. but you keep your chin up and you keep going, not wanting to let it affect you, but it does, and it's slowly chipping away at you.

and finally, at the end of the day, when carmy picks you up, seeing him, the person you feel safest with, waiting by his car for you with a smile... it all just crumbles.

you're crying before you get to him, a steady stream of tears rolling down your cheeks, and carmy instantly wraps you in his arms, one hand cradling the back of your head, and he's shushing you gently.

carmen understands, he knows about days like this, and he just wants to wrap you up and take care of you. so he does.

on the drive home, he swings by the grocery store to pick up ingredients for your favourite comfort food, then he takes you home and adjusts the shower to the perfect temperature for you, laying out your comfiest pyjamas on the counter.

and while you're showering, he sets up the couch with pillow and blankets and loads up netflix, then he starts making dinner. and he turns off the big light, leaving the lamps and the overhead stove light on while he cooks, so the light isn't too severe. he just wants you to feel safe and at ease so you can recover from the mental and physical weight of the day.

when you get out of the shower, he turns the heat down so he can give you a little loving. he brings you some cold water, maybe rubs your shoulders, peppers you with kisses. is just all-round gentle and lovely.

the two of you take the night slow, and he just takes such good care of you.

[lindsey-laufeyson]

Distractions- Chapter 9

Distractions Masterlist

Pairing: Reader x FWB!Tom Hiddleston

Series Warnings: SMUT, fluff, angst, friends with benefits

It was the morning after you had discovered the drunk texts from Tom and you were exhausted. Though you had tried to sleep, your anger kept you awake until the wee hours of the night, and when you finally fell asleep, you dreamt that Tom was saying the exact things he said in those messages, but in person. He was spitting them at you like a cobra spits venom, over and over until you woke up in a cold sweat. You dragged your feet getting ready for work, dreading the day ahead of you, and you had to put extra effort into covering up all of the marks Tom left on your neck the previous night. Unfortunately, that meant you didn’t have time to get yourself a latte on your way to work, and you hated drinking the shitty coffee from craft service. 

When you arrived at work, you were glad to be setting up alone. You and Kaitlyn had taken to alternating days where one of you would prep in the morning and one of you would close up at the end of the day. By now, you’d considered Kaitlyn to be a friend, but you hadn’t forgotten the fact that she’d told Tom about Trevor. Eventually, you would have to confront her about it, but for the time being, you would simply enjoy your peace and quiet.

Half an hour later, Tom and Kaitlyn arrived at the same time, Kaitlyn greeting you with her usual, much too chipper “good morning,” and Tom with an apologetic look in his eyes and two coffees in hand. You merely gave them a half-hearted “morning” before turning back to your station. 

“I thought you might like a latte,” Tom said meekly, putting the coffee cup from your favorite café on the counter in front of you. 

“I’d like to get started right away, if that’s alright with the two of you,” you stated, refusing to look at Tom and ignoring the latte you so desperately needed.

“You alright?” Kaitlyn asked. 

You shrugged. “Tired. Didn’t sleep well.” Out of the corner of your eye you saw Tom look at you with concern, but just like the latte, you ignored it.

The minutes dragged on at an agonizing pace as you listened to Tom and Kaitlyn make idle chit chat while you worked in silence. Whenever they attempted to bring you into the conversation, you gave them one word answers without looking up once. You could tell they were both uncomfortable with the palpable tension emanating from you, but you didn’t care. 

By the time Tom’s hair and makeup was almost finished, you’d decided that you were desperate to leave the awkward silence you’d created and even more desperate for caffeine. “Kaitlyn, you finish up,” you told her. “I’m going to go get some coffee from craft service. I’ll meet you on set.” 

“But–” she began, confusion in her voice as she pointed to the now cold latte sitting on the counter. She was cut off by the sound of the trailer door shutting behind you.

…

When you arrived on set, you decided you’d rather stand in the back rather than sit in your chair next to Kaitlyn. It wasn’t just that you were angry with her for telling Tom about Trevor, but you also knew that she would want to know why you were ignoring Tom and try to pry it out of you as soon as she had the opportunity. Mostly though, you just wanted to be left alone for a while.

Of course, your job wasn’t that forgiving. You couldn’t keep putting your assistant on Tom, and you were nothing if not professional. Well, you had been before he came along. So, when duty called, you did what needed to be done with the intention that you would simply treat Tom as if he was a client you’d just met and keep things as professional as possible. Of course, Tom had other plans.

“Y/n,” Tom began as you touched up his makeup.

Without looking at him, you stopped him immediately. “If what you’re about to say isn’t strictly work related, I’m going to have to ask you to shut it.”

“I don’t understand why you won’t just hear me out.”

“I think you’ve said plenty in those texts you sent me.”

“I don’t think you’re being entirely fair…”

You finally looked him in the eyes, your eyebrows raised. “I’m not being fair? You basically called me slut, Tom.”

His brow furrowed. “You know I would never call you or any woman a slut!”

“You may as well have.”

“I was pissed out of my mind!”

“So was I! But I didn’t send you any nasty messages, did I?”

“No, you just slept with Trevor.”

You shook your head as your eyelids narrowed. “Oh, fuck you, Tom. Don’t you dare throw that in my face. Last I checked, we’re allowed to sleep with other people.”

He stood his ground. “But you wouldn’t have slept with him had you been sober, just as I wouldn’t have said those awful things had I been sober.”

“That’s not the bloody point,” you shot back before you spun around and stormed back to where you had been standing before, eager to regain your solitude. You spent the rest of the morning there, and anytime Tom needed hair and makeup from that point on, he was wise enough not to push you any further and just let you work in silence. 

Kaitlyn, however, couldn’t stand your cold shoulder any longer, and just as you suspected she might, she eventually came to confront you.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you or do I have to force it out of you?” Kaitlyn demanded.

You sighed and then looked at her with irritation. “Do you remember yesterday when I told you never to mention the whole Trevor fiasco ever again?”

“Yeah…” she replied with nervous hesitation.

“Well, for future reference, when I say that, I mean never to mention it to anyone.”

She scrunched her face in guilt. “Tom told you I told him?”

“He told me you told him.”

“But you didn’t tell me not to tell him!”

“Unless I tell you to tell someone, don’t tell anyone!”

“Wait, I’m starting to get confused.”

You let out an exasperated groan. “Why did you tell Tom about Trevor?”

“It was an accident, okay? He was so quiet yesterday, so I was trying to fill the silence when at some point it just sort of slipped out. I don’t see what the big deal is anyway. You guys are such close friends that I figured you were going to tell him anyway. I mean, you told Warren of all people.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “The point is, it’s my business and I should be able to decide who is privy to it and who isn’t.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you.”

After a beat, she spoke up again. “So now I know why you’re mad at me, but what did Tom do? I mean, it was pretty cold to blatantly reject his latte like that, and you haven’t exactly hidden the fact that you hate the coffee here.”

“I don’t hate it,” you defended. However, in your attempt to prove her wrong, you took a sip of your coffee and couldn’t fight back the grimace that appeared on your face.

“You were saying?”

“Alright, without giving too much detail, he said some things to me that a real friend would never say.”

“What?” She looked surprised. “That doesn’t sound like Tom at all. What did he say?”

“Do you really think I’d tell you after you opened your big mouth yesterday?”

“It just seems very unlikely that he would say anything untoward to anyone, let alone you.”

You shrugged. “It turns out people can surprise you. And what do you mean by ‘let alone me?’”

“Please. Are we going to pretend like you two don’t instantly light up every time you see each other? At least before yesterday you did. I can’t say whether it’s just your friendship or something more, but the two of you are like flint and steel. Together you create a fire that warms the entire room. The last two days, however, it’s been cold and dreary on set, and everyone can feel it, whether they realize why or not.”

You thought about what Kaitlyn said. While the sentiment was nice enough, you weren’t sure you believed her; or for some fucked up reason, you didn’t want to believe her. “I think you’re imagining things, Kait.”

“Deny it all you want, but it’s true. I don’t know what he said, but I think it might be worth it to forgive him. Not many people have the kind of infectious chemistry that you two have.” And with that, she left to go back to her chair.

You folded your arms and leaned back against the wall behind you. You were somehow more angry now because you knew Kaitlyn had a point. Was it really worth it to keep punishing Tom if it meant stewing in your own anger all day? But then Tom’s messages appeared in your head again, and the image from your dream of him yelling them at you. No. You weren’t ready to forgive him. As much as you wanted to, you just couldn’t. Not yet anyway.

…

By the time lunch was called, Tom felt utterly defeated. He knew he’d royally fucked up, but he didn’t know how to fix it. Typically he found that his words were his strongest asset in expressing himself, but he couldn’t begin to find the words to express how sorry he was, and even if he did, you refused to listen to anything he had to say. Not that he blamed you. 

While everyone else swarmed craft service or went off the lot to get their lunch, Tom found that he wasn’t hungry. This was the second day in a row that you had affected his appetite and it was maddening. He resolved to go back to his trailer, and on his way he heard your name come from behind one of the other trailers in the lot. He paused to listen.

“…but Max here was too bloody chicken to bag that bird!” exclaimed the voice of a man Tom didn’t recognize.

Then came a voice he could only assume belonged to Max. “I wasn’t chicken. She was just a fucking tease.”

A third man chimed in. “It’s a shame, really. Can you imagine what a spitfire like her is like in the sack?”

Max laughed. “The best part would’ve been getting to say that I fucked Hiddleston’s whore!”

Filled with blinding rage, Tom couldn’t listen to any more. He rounded the corner and met Max with a right hook to the jaw. The brawny man immediately retaliated with an equally devastating punch to his assailant, only to realize seconds later whose million dollar face he’d just marred.

“Shit,” Max cursed, his eyes wide with fearful regret. “Mr. Hiddleston, I—“

“If you ever want to work in this industry again,” Tom interrupted with a low growl. “I suggest you leave this studio in the next ten seconds and reevaluate how you’d like to treat women from now on.”

Without a word, Max nodded his head and sped off, his two friends following close behind him. 

“Fuck,” Tom hissed in pain as soon as they were gone. He held his right hand in his left, flexing it open and shut a few times while he examined it. The skin over his knuckles had split open from the force of his punch to Max’s hard jaw bone. He then carefully brought his fingers up to his throbbing left cheekbone, the sharp pain causing him to instantly retract them. 

It was a stupid thing to do. Tom was fully aware of that. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d thrown a punch that wasn’t choreographed. He was never an aggressive person by any means, and he had certainly never abused his power like that, but he couldn’t stand men that were so blatantly disrespectful to women, let alone you. He began to shake with anger again just thinking about what Max had said about you, what he’d called you. 

…

For your lunch break you wanted nothing more than to hide away in your trailer, away from Kaitlyn’s infuriatingly insightful observations and, most of all, away from Tom’s stupid face. But you should have figured out by then that luck was not your friend as of late, because who should you run into on your way to your trailer but the exact stupid face you were trying to avoid. All anger was momentarily forgotten, however, when you saw he was hurt. 

“Oh my god, Tom, what the hell happened to you?” you asked in a panic as you rushed to him and grabbed his injured hand.

“It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” You brought your hand up to his cheek to examine his face. “You’re bleeding! You need to see the medic.”

He shook his head. “Nevermind, it’s fine. I have a first aid kit in my trailer, so I can just patch myself up.”

“If you won’t see the medic, at least let me do it. I have some liquid plaster in my kit.”

“You don’t have to,” he urged you in a low, gentle tone. “Really.”

“Tom, it’s fine.”

He tilted his head forward and raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

You sighed. Damn him for being so considerate. “Let’s just go before I change my mind.”

Tom’s trailer was small but rather nice, with a kitchenette, a table and two chairs, a sofa, a bathroom, and even a small bed in the back. Tom fetched the first aid kit out of one of the cupboards. 

“I’ll take that, you sit down.” You gestured to one of the chairs. He raised his eyebrows at you. “Sit.” You commanded once more. He obliged. After getting some ice from the freezer and putting it in a bag, you handed it to him “Hold this on your face.” Then you washed your hands, found a clean washcloth, and wet it with warm water. The whole time Tom simply watched you, looking up with those puppy dog eyes that always made you weak, but you were determined to focus on the task at hand. You sat down in the other chair and pulled it close to him so that you were sitting between his wide-spread knees. Letting out a quiet sigh, you took his injured hand and began gently cleaning it with the washcloth. “So, tough guy, who was it?”

“Sorry?”

“Don’t be daft, Thomas. I know fist fight injuries when I see them, so out with it.”

He hesitated for a moment. “I’m afraid you’ll be angry with me.”

“Well I’m already angry with you,” you told him as you took the liquid plaster out of your kit and applied it to the cuts on his knuckles. “So what have you got to lose?”

“It was Max.”

“What? Why would Max punch you?” you asked with a small chuckle at the ludicrous idea.

“Because I sort of punched him first.”

Your head shot up to look at him. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

“He was saying awful things about you,” Tom defended. “And don’t ask me to repeat them because I won’t.” 

“Oh well now you have to,” you told him, your curiosity piqued.

“I’m telling you, you don’t want to know.”

“I’m a big girl, Tommy. I can handle it.”

He sighed heavily and you could see the anger seep into his features as he thought back to what happened. “He called you a ‘fucking tease,’ and he said that he would’ve liked to have been able to say that he fucked ‘Hiddleston’s whore.’ And then, I don’t know, my anger just took over, I guess. I punched him and then he punched me back before he realized it was me. Once he did he ran off.”

“‘Hiddleston’s whore?’ Do you think he knows we’re fucking?”

“That’s your takeaway from this??”

“What do you want me to say? As flattered as I am that you would punch someone to defend my honor, it was still an incredibly stupid thing to do.”

“I know. I wasn’t thinking.” 

You finished his knuckles and moved the bag of ice from his face to his hand, so you could begin to clean his cheek. “I’m just glad this is the extent of your injuries. He could have given you a concussion.”

“Do my ears deceive me, or are you worrying over me?” he carefully prodded.

“Don’t make a big deal about it,” you warned. “I’m still cross with you.”

“I know. You have every right to be. But I need you to know that I didn’t mean those things I said. 

You kept your eyes on his cheekbone while you mended it with plaster. “Whether you meant them or not, they still hurt.”

“And I hate myself for that. You’re the last person on earth I’d want to hurt.”

You looked at him skeptically. “What about your mum?”

“Okay, you’re the second to last person on earth I’d want to hurt,” he corrected.

“What about your sisters?”

“Are you kidding? We tortured each other growing up. You’re still second.” He smiled at you and though you tried your hardest not to, your lips still curled into a small smirk while you rolled your eyes at him. 

Once the plaster was set, you took out some foundation and a blending sponge to cover up his injuries as best you could. 

“Ow,” he winced and pulled away when you began tapping the foundation into his bruised cheekbone.

“Oh hush, you big baby,” you told him, cradling the side of his face and neck to keep him from moving. The two of you were quiet for a moment as you continued to blend the foundation on his face. You kept your eyes on your blending sponge, but his eyes stayed on you. His gaze darted between your eyes and your lips, his eyebrows slanted upward and inward ever so slightly. You’d seen that expression many times before. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Making that face.”

“I’m not making a face.”

“Yes you are. It’s the face you make whenever you want to kiss me.”

“I do want to kiss you.”

You paused, looking at him briefly before bringing your attention back to your sponge. “It’s not that easy, Casanova.”

“Very well,” he said, his grin never faltering. Suddenly the speakers in his trailer came alive with the sound of an electric guitar strumming in an upbeat rhythm, making you jump. You looked down to find Tom’s phone in his hand, having just pressed play on the song “If I Could Turn Back Time.” When you looked back up at Tom, he was swaying his shoulders to the beat and singing along with Cher.

“If I could turn back time,” he sang, his eyes locked on yours..

Your wary gaze followed him as he stood up. “What are you doing?” 

“If I could find a way,”

“Thomas…”

“I’d take back those words that have hurt you, and you’d stay.”

Listening to the lyrics, his intentions dawned on you. “Oh, you think you’re clever now, don’t you?”

In lieu of an answer, Tom simply winked at you as he serenaded you through the first verse. You glared at him while you bit your lip to stop from smiling. “I don't know why I did the things I did, I don't know why I said the things I said, pride's like a knife, it can cut deep inside, words are like weapons, they wound sometimes.” You almost broke during the pre-chorus when he fell to his knees in front of you and made like he was begging for your forgiveness while he sang, “I didn't really mean to hurt you, I didn't wanna see you go, I know I made you cry, but baby, if I could turn back time…” As he went back into the chorus, he stood back up and reached his hand out to you as an invitation to dance with him. 

You shook your head. “Oh no. Absolutely not.”

Still singing, he ignored your objection, grabbing your hand and pulling you up out of your seat. 

“No no no no no,” you protested in rapid fire succession as you were lifted onto your feet.

He wrapped one arm around your waist and with the other he took your hand in his. After rocking with you back and forth to the rhythm, he spun you around and dipped you, an impressive feat in his small trailer. By that point you couldn’t hold back your smile any longer. In fact, you found yourself giggling uncontrollably. “If I could reach the stars, I’d give ‘em all to you, then you’d love me, love me, like you used to do.”  The two of you danced and sang and giggled through the entire remainder of the song, each of you trying out your best Cher impressions and laughing even harder in turn. It was silly, and uninhibited, and by far the most fun you’d ever had. It made you realize how lucky you were that you had the privilege of seeing this side of him, away from cameras, and press, and fans, where he could completely and totally be himself. You didn’t understand why, of all people, he felt comfortable enough to share that part of himself with you, but you did know without a doubt that you felt just as comfortable with him. 

As the music began to fade, Tom spun you out one last time and then spun you back into his arms and held you close, your heaving chests flush against each other while your lips were mere centimeters apart.

“You make it incredibly difficult to stay angry with you, you know that?” you told him breathlessly. 

He let out a small chuckle, and then looked down at your mouth like it was water and he was dying of thirst. Slowly, cautiously, he brought his lips to yours. He kissed you with a softness you hadn’t felt from him before. It was tender yet deliberate. You reciprocated with the same gentle affection, savoring it for as long as you could until you were startled by a knock on the door, causing you both to pull away abruptly. 

“Mr. Hiddleston?” came Trevor’s voice from outside.

Fucking Trevor, you thought. 

“Yeah,” Tom called, looking and sounding as if he’d just woken up from a dream.

“They’re waiting for you on set, mate.” Trevor said.

Tom sighed. “Be right there!” You looked at each other with cheeky grins on your faces until you were sure Trevor had gone, at which point you both burst out giggling again. When you settled down, he put a hand on your waist. “Thank you for patching me up.”

“Nevermind. Just promise me you won’t go round punching anyone else for me.”

“I’m afraid I can’t make that promise.”

“Well, try. You’ve made my job hard enough as it is now I’ve got these cuts and bruises to cover up for the next week.”

“I’ll do my best,” he replied with a chuckle. He kissed your forehead and headed for the door, turning back to you once he’d reached it. “See you out there, yeah?”

“It’s my job, isn’t it?” you teased him.

“And maybe you can come over after?” he suggested hopefully. 

“Don’t push your luck, stud,” you replied, but there was no hiding the uncontrollable grin on your face. 

Taglist: @chronicallybubbly, @the-princess-of-loki, @princess-ofthe-pages, @darcylikesloki, @kikster606, @foxherder

[caffstrink]

do you have any tips on how to live off as artist professionally?

First of all art isn't always a viable option depending where you live. The only reason ive been able to live off art is because the american dollar is worth 5x more than the brazilian real so even if i didn't get many comms i could still get by with the few i had. and if that wasn't the case I'd pretty much be eating breadcrumbs off the floor like a pigeon.

1. Whore yourself out and draw fanart of every popular or trending thing to gather attention to youe art

2. Learn your platforms: learn how each websites algorithm works, learn what are the best hours to post, etc

3. I cannot stress enough how important it is to find your niche

4. Everyone is fake no one wants to be your friend, other popular artists will start following you the moment your following becomes good enough. They'll start to interact with you too and want to become mutuals in order to share followings/traction. If you can play into that you can get them to share your stuff as well, but honestly don't fall for it bc most of them shittalk other artists on their privs or personal servers and the stress isnt worth it

5. Draw nsfw if possible/if you're comfortable with. People who commission porn pay well and they often have very few options when commissioning stuff bc most artists don't accept porn commissions.

6. Accept being an artist is a hard job that doesn't pay really well. If you're freelancing on comms life's always going to be a tightrope, so i suggest trying to do professional work once in a while so you can at least have the security of a salary. Draw backgrounds, gestures, scenes, studies, and the likes, bc those are what companies will want in your portfolio

7. Depending where you live it's extremely hard to live off as an artist, and being an artist is often means a very difficult struggle with finances. It's a job that requires passion, and more often than not turning art in a job causes creative burnout and complete loss of spark for it. Ask yourself: why do you want to be a professional artist? Isn't it better to keep it as a hobby? Maybe a side gig if you need money? You can still pursue art even if you don't do it to earn money, and it doesn't make you any less of an artist. It's a difficult job, and you need to understand its not going to be viable at all times and sometimes you'll have to throw in the towel and do something else to survive and there's 0 shame in that.

8. Be professional and courteous with your clients. Don't be a doormat, but don't go around ghosting people or being passive aggressive or taking them for granted and never deliver any product. Doing art for money is a JOB. Treat it like such. Inform your clients about delays, or any issues that may come up.

9. Take care of yourself and by that i mean eat decent food, exercise your arms, get 8 hours of sleep and get some sun (or take vitamin D periodically if youre a basement dweller). This isn't some self care uwu shit, it's actual science that your body is a machine and not providing what it needs to function leads to issues, and some of those issues include affecting your mental health, and mental health issues include and are not limited to: anxiety, depression, burnout, loneliness, feeling like your art sucks, feeling unmotivated, feeling like you're a failure, etc. Same with physical: for the love of GOD you DON'T want wrist issues. You dont want carpal or ulnar nerve entrapment. Don't draw 24/7. Don't push yourself either. If youre feeling shitty its time to STOP. Just picture a shitty graphics card trying to run minecraft with 5 shaders and 10 mods at once on fullscreen with 60 fps. Thats you. Youre the graphics card

10. Don't be a bitch, don't get involved with drama. Can't be an internet artist if you get cancelled so don't try to start shit at any point in time. Don't be a shit person.

And from the top of my head thats it, hope you like eating plain bread 🍞

[lothcatthree]

my darling<3<3 i have very much enjoyed everything you've told me about the coffee/pastry shop au so feel free to feed me more (pun intended) but i am also very intrigued by this ballerina au 👀👀

hi babe!!! sorry this took so long, but i got my ass in gear and made a snippet.

(psst, @brokenphoenix99 @violentcheese @forloveofcodywan @halfwaytoknowhere this one is for y'all too)

here, obi-wan is a professional ballerina and cody is an ex-marine who decided to be a sports medicine physical therapist at a clinic owned by kix. waxer is a kindergarten teacher, which isn't important to the plot but i thought you'd like that info <3

this would be another long-ish fic where obi-wan starts out as cody's patient and ends up pursuing him. cody is very confused because he's trying to stay professional, but obi-wan is so handsome and nice and funny and goddammit he's making cody fall in love with him, ethics be damned.

hilarity and shenanigans ensue.

here's a snippet for their first meeting (obi-wan gets to be a little slutty, as a treat)

Cody is a professional, you see.

He’s never had an issue separating work from his personal life, which really hasn’t been difficult, seeing as most of his patients have been teenaged athletes or huge burly football players that speak a grand total of five words to Cody and prefer to communicate through grunts and pointing at where it hurts.

And then there’s Obi-Wan.

When Cody heard he was being referred to a new client, a professional ballerina, Cody expected something like a tiny, rail-thin person to walk through his door with shitty ankles and a shittier attitude. Not that Cody has anything against ballerinas, specifically, but his only experience has been movies and TV shows and sue him for never meeting one in person.

And then…

There’s Obi-Wan.

Cody is not expecting the man that does walk through the door of the clinic with bright blue eyes, a kind smile, and soft auburn hair that falls just above his shoulders. Where Cody expected all ballerinas to be sharp edges, this man just looks so… soft.

And then he speaks.

“Hi, my name is Obi-Wan. I’m here to see…” Obi-Wan trails off and checks his phone, “Dr. Cody Fett?”

Cody springs into action from where he was more or less creepily lurking in the clinic, watching from a spot that gives him a view of the front desk. It’s his favorite spot to throw things at Jesse, their receptionist, when he’s not looking.

Cody strides into the lobby, attempting to act casual and if he wasn’t just gawking over the man that walked in. The man’s (Obi-Wan, Cody reminds himself) eyes dart to him and Cody tries to keep a straight face, but it feels like he’s burning under the gaze for some reason.

“Hi, that’s me,” Cody curves around the desk and stands a few feet in front of Obi-Wan, extending a hand.

Obi-Wan offers him another smile; a flash of white teeth and a small dimple on his chin. Cody watches his eyes assess Cody and dip down his body, but Cody brushes it off. It’s not the first time a patient has checked him out, though usually they’re more subtle.

He quickly sets the water bottle he’s carrying (it’s covered in stickers, and Cody registers a pride flag sticker, but decides to shove that information away) onto the desk to shake Cody’s hand.

“Pleasure to meet you. Thank you for getting me into your schedule so quickly. I have a recital coming up in a few weeks and I really need to get this bum knee figured out,” Obi-Wan says, taking his hand away and gesturing to his right knee, which is covered in a brace that fits underneath the hem of his biker shorts.

Cody returns his hand to his side, sliding it into the pocket of his black scrub joggers and politely laughs. He has the urge to ask where Obi-Wan’s (wonderfully smooth) accent is from, but that’s got nothing to do with his care and Cody internally chastises himself.

Focus.

“It’s no problem. Why don’t you go ahead and come back with me and we can figure out what’s going on? You can put your stuff on that table at the back” Cody says, gesturing to some cubbies they got for free when Waxer emptied out his old classroom.

Obi-Wan shoots him a grateful smile and begins walking into the clinic just ahead of Cody. After a step, though, Obi-Wan drops his phone, which would be fine, except he abruptly bends at the waist to pick it up. His back arches probably a little more than necessary, and the biker shorts don’t leave a lot of his body to the imagination.

Cody, thanking every possible deity that he still has quick reflexes from his Marine days, stops and flies a hand out to grip the desk to prevent himself from tripping and promptly running his pelvis into what is, unfortunately, a fantastic ass.

Obi-Wan grabs his phone and stands back up fluidly, turning over his shoulder to shoot Cody a smile that, well… It's been a while since Cody’s gotten around, but he could swear it’s flirtatious.

“Sorry. Can’t bend at the knees,” Obi-Wan explains, but he doesn’t sound sorry at all.

In fact, he quickly drags his eyes down Cody’s body and Cody could swear he bites his lip before turning on his heel and walking to the cubbies.

Cody doesn’t respond and he feels his face has heated up, so he turns to Jesse to make sure that all of that actually just happened. Jesse turns from where he was watching Obi-Wan and looks to Cody with slightly raised brows before he gets a look at Cody’s blush and bites his lip to hide a smile.

“Did you se-” Cody begins to whisper.

“I saw it,” Jesse nods and snickers.

Cody blinks dumbly at Jesse, his systems still a little offline as he tries to process that a patient (a beautiful one, but that’s entirely besides the point) just openly flirted with him and tried to get him to look at his ass (it worked, but that’s entirely besides the point).

Jesse looks over at Obi-Wan again and breaks out into an amused grin, his hand coming up to rub at his mouth. He turns to look at Cody again and Cody is a little scared of what he just saw.

Jesse jerks his head over to Obi-Wan and Cody gulps before looking over there. Obi-Wan is working on re-tying his shoes, which is innocent enough, but…

That motherfucker is bending at the knee.