#I CAN BARELY PAINT MY OWN NAILS AND THEY LOOK LIKE SHIT HALF THE TIME

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

I find it simultaneously very endearing and frustrating how badly my friends and loved ones can sometimes misinterpret What I Can Do as an artist. My mother once told me that I should help her paint fun designs on her nails like those nail influencers on instagram, "because you're good at drawing, and painting nails is basically the same," like. Mother no. That is a whole ass different profession, people have entire JOBS for that kinda stuff, mother please

[kyufessions]

sweetheart

synopsis: your annoying neighbor bothers you yet again

pairings: neighbor! eric x afab! reader

genre: smut, 18+

request: “open your mouth” + “why so shy?”

word count: 2.2k

warnings: spitting, oral (f. receiving), making out, playful teasing, pet name (sweet heart), lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: i’m writing this half asleep so it’s not proofread whatsoever,, oopsies

general taglist: @jwnghyuns @eaudenana @soobin-chois @haechansbbg

tbz taglist: @ilovechanhee

Only if everyone knew. Only if everyone knew that the boy next door you always swore annoyed you to your very core since you had first moved in over ten years ago, would meet you in your old tree house that stood between both of your houses at ungodly hours. With what started as another night wanting to get away from one of your family’s parties, turned into heated makeout sessions that led to what anyone would imagine.

Throughout the years, your father had been kind enough to re-do the treehouse. Seeing as you still adored it, he re-vamped it to make it seem more private and to your liking since you were now in your early 20’s. There was even a small makeshift door and small windows with curtains that you often kept closed- it was your favorite place to get away from madness when your room wasn’t cutting it. That was- until one spring night.

You had been in your treehouse reading a new novel you had bought at your local barnes and nobles, your lamp on and one of curtains slightly open to enjoy the slight breeze. Tonight your parents had some guests over from work, their conversations and jazzy background music being too loud for your liking. So you quietly made your way to your treehouse and enjoying your time alone until you heard some rocks being thrown at the door. Groaning, you ignored the disturbance. You knew exactly who it was and you did not want to deal with him tonight. One more rock, two, even three more were thrown. Thats when you stood up and fully opened up the half drawn curtain, looking down to see the annoying boy next door.

He stood there with his devilish grin, wearing a white tank and his baseball varsity jacket from the college he attended. He waved hello as soon as he saw you looking down at him, catching a glimpse of you from the limited lighting. “What do you want eric?” you shouted down, making sure your voice was only able to be heard between you both and not to disrupt what was happening inside your home.

He shrugged, his grin never fading. “I’m bored.” as you rolled your eyes and started to pull back down the curtain, he yelled back out to you. “Wait!”

You shushed him right away, his voice too loud for your liking. As you motion for him to come up the wooden ladder, he does as instructed and you watch as he climbs up halfway before you stop him with your words. “What do you want?” you ask again, annoyance stringing through your voice.

His lips form another shit eating grin. “I’m bored and saw the light on.”

“Find someone else to bother.” you start to close the door but see his hand stop it from closing.

Before you can begin to speak up again, eric decides to first. “Come on, i’ll stay in the corner and let you do your own thing. I won’t bother you. I just don’t want to be in my house right now and am grounded from using my car.”

“Is no an option?” you ask him with a puff. With a swift shake of his head, you open the door fully and allow him inside.

He looks around in amazement at the fairy lights and overall set up, noticing how you plop back on the mini couch you have set up in the corner. His eyes scan over a small drawer with a chipped paint job, old drawings and paintings hanging throughout that’s barely holding on with tape and some nails. There are some obvious new items hanging about and some older ones, and he quietly takes note of that as he walks around to inspect. As he does so, you occasionally glance at him to make sure hes not touching anything he isn’t supposed to. After a little more snooping, he takes a seat on the floor and starts aimlessly scrolling through his phone while you continue to read your novel.

Minutes pass in pure silence- nothing but the occasional hoot from a faraway owl and the distanced sound of jazz music from your home below. That was, until eric opened tiktok. His volume was louder than necessary, his laughter echoing in your ears. You try to continue your reading, trying to be the nice guy. But it felt as if each tiktok he watched just made him laugh harder than the last. You make a mental note of the page you stop on before closing your book and looking over at him, your face blank with irritation.

“If you’re going to be in here, can you at least quiet down? I’m trying to read my book.” your eyes finally meet and he just chuckles, getting up off the floor and walking over towards you.

“What’re you reading anyway?”

You clear your throat before speaking as he inches closer, trying to keep your book close to hide it from him. “None of your business, just please keep it down.”

Eric notices you trying to keep the book from him and as he steps closer he tries reaching for it but failing as you hold it closer to you. He scoffs, trying to reach for it again. “Why so shy about it, huh?” his tone is playful, his eyes beaming with curiosity as he tries to sneak a peek of the cover. You try moving your body to hide it from him but as you’re squirming, he snatches up the book and examines the cover. A small laugh leaves his lips as he notices the explicit cover, your face turning a slight shade of pink as he then reads the first page that started off juicy. When he looks down at you, your cheeks are now red and your eyes wide. “This is the shit you read?”

You stand up and grab the book back from his hands, or at least attempt to before he raises it above your head with a smirk. The height difference between you both wasn’t much, but the fact he was also wearing grey sweats right now didn’t really help the burning sensation growing in the pit of your stomach. To say eric was ugly would be the biggest lie- you actually found him quite attractive. He was just annoying and pestered you often, but he was quite handsome. As his hand was held above you, your book in his hand, you can notice his peaking bicep from under his varsity jacket.

Your silence and wandering eyes failed you as eric took note of this. “Checking me out, huh?”

As you're snapped out of your daze by his words, you jump up and grab the book from his hand successfully and try to move around him to leave but fail. Although your treehouse is spacious, it’s not the biggest either. So now you’re backed into a corner by the hot annoying neighbor who just found out you read smut. Cool. you just sit down on the small couch, puffing in annoyance in an attempt to hide how flustered you’ve become.

“No i’m not.”

His index and middle finger tap the right side of your cheek, a smirk playing on his lips. “Your red cheeks say otherwise, sweetheart.”

Normally you'd swat away his hand, but as you looked in his eyes you felt the air catch in your throat. You felt as if time had stopped due to the close proximity you both were in. the little nickname that normally bothered you made your stomach churn with butterflies, your hands gripping your book tighter.

you tried to hide it once more, trying to keep your tone high and mighty. “don’t call me sweetheart.”

“then try to act like you don’t like it and maybe i will.” eric then squats so he’s now eye level with you, his fingers tracing from your cheek all the way down your neck and to your shoulder ever so gracefully as he does so. your eyes just watch him, unsure of what this feeling is that’s come over you. his head tilts, his face amused by this. “does mommy and daddy know you read smut all up here by yourself?”

eric had always seen you as this goody-two-shoes; mommy and daddy’s most prized possession who always got fantastic grades and went to one of the best colleges the states had to offer. throughout the past ten years, he had always seen you achieve the highest possible grades with honors just to seek your parents approval. never brought over a guy, your nose always buried in a book whether it be for your studies or for fun. he also noticed how your hair never failed to be done perfectly, different colored bows or hair accessories to match your dress or skirt. you always had to present the world with this perfect image of you, and he was just so curious to get to know you deeper than this facade you try to sell everyone you come across.

he watches you shake your head, no words being spoken as you seem choked up. your eyes sparkle under the dimly lit fairy lights as they glare at him, causing him to chuckle lowly yet again. “what if they found out?”

“don’t you fucking dare eric sohn-“

“ah ah,” he slips the book from your hands, placing it beside you. “why don’t we put page one to the test?”

your eyes widen, eyebrows raising. “e-excuse me?”

eric slips off his varsity jacket, tossing it on top of your book. “i skimmed the page over. doesn’t ellen get eaten out, or am i mistaken?” you’re left speechless, yet your face continues to redden all over. eric has thought about this for years but never thought this day would come, only in his wildest of dreams.

eric stands up a little bit to hover over you, lifting your chin and leaning down to rest his forehead against yours as he stares deeply into your eyes. his hair is messy, probably from the baseball practice he had earlier in the day. your lips are inches from his, yet not a word can be spoken as you’re just in shock.

“all you have to do is tell me to stop and i will.” is all eric whispers before placing his lips on yours.

both of your lips move in sync with one another, his fitting perfectly on yours. his hand moves from your shoulder to your cheek, his entire palm cupping it and his fingers placing themselves on the nape of your neck. his touch sends shivers down your spine, his fingertips delicate and careful. his other hand moves to your left thigh, starting to spread it apart from your right one. but you don’t stop him, something within you tells you to allow him. as he bites down on your bottom lip, his hand on your thigh travels to the inner part and stops near your panties. his fingertips graze your folds, the lace material feeling good against his skin.

the sound of your whimper against his lips makes his blood rush, separating his lips from yours. for a few moments he just stares down at you, taking in the view of your wide innocent eyes and puffy pink lips. “fuck you’re so pretty, you know that?”

eric then gets on his knees in front of you, and you watch as he slips off your white silk pleated skirt and stare at your pussy in awe. “all wet for me already, sweetheart?” you bite your lower lip as you watch him, arching your back against the wall at the nickname.

his fingers push the fabric aside, the fingertips grading your folds ever so slightly to take in the beauty for a second. he grins up at you before slipping in one finger, earning a gasp from you. eric starts slow, pumping in and out of you teasingly. he just stares up at you the whole time, taking in the beauty of your reactions. he watches your hand involuntarily reach for his hair, tugging on it once he picks up the pace out of satisfaction. you let out quiet moans as he slips in a second finger, not wanting anyone to potentially hear anything happening up in the treehouse.

after a few moments of his second finger, he puts his mouth to your clit. with this sudden movement you throw your head back, starting to grind against his face. eric takes in every movement you make, enjoying how you use him for your advantage to release. his fingers continue pumping in and out of you at a consistent pace, his tongue occasionally moving in and out of your hole as his lips continue to satisfy you. as your breathing pattern picks up and your legs begin shaking, he knew it was only a few seconds before you climaxed.

once you did, you let out a loud moan and eric took in every juice you offered to him. he begins licking you up, cleaning you up the only way he’s currently able to. he then leans up, grabbing you by the cheek and staring down at your tired face.

“open your mouth, baby.” he murmurs. you do as instructed, allowing him to spit in your mouth. you watch him through half-lidded eyes, smirking as you take in the taste he offers you.

and that’s the night where it all started, your friends with benefits relationship with your annoying neighbor.

[lennadanvers]

Good girl

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

A couple of warnings: this does not contain smut. It's more of a hurt-comfort fic. (With a little bit of angst, I guess.) And it is self indulgent.

To all my oldest daughters/sisters, to anyone who has learned that everything and everyone else comes first (before you). To all the perfectionists, the hard workers. To those who haven't found home yet. You deserve to get what you give. You deserve to give less than all you've got. To the girls who were called perfect so much that it feels degrading now. You're not perfect. You're human. You can breathe and make mistakes. You're not different from anyone else. Take up space. Make mistakes. Be selfish. Be ugly. Love isn't earned, it is given.

“You don’t have to be good.”

You flinch and he wants to die.

Simon didn’t mean to say it. He doesn’t even mean it. Not like that. It’s just that it has been cooking for so long that it came out without his permission. Stupid bloody mouth.

He knows you hate that word. Good. Such an awful concept. As much as it is an impossibility to him- a thing like God or normal- it is a curse to you. Goodie two shoes, is what you hear. Little miss perfect. An iron ball at the end of the chain around your neck.

He knows.

He sees it when he gets home a couple hours after you, and- even before he’s taken off his shoes- you’re telling him what you got done around the house. It’s second nature. He hates it.

Hates it when you wash the dishes even though it’s late. Hates when you do everything for yourself. When you cook, make tea, clean. Simon has never ever had the chance to clean up your mess. You never leave a mess. Always tidy, always clean, always everything in its place.

It’s not like he doesn’t do his part. Simon does just as much as you do around the house. He vacuums, does laundry, buys groceries. But it’s not the same.

He noticed you never eat the last cookie. You always leave them in the package, ready for him to find. It’s the same when you bake cakes: you leave the last piece untouched. Before taking a shower, you ask him if he was about to. You can wait, he takes less time showering anyway. When you’re watching the telly and he peeks from the hallway, you pause to see if he wanted to watch something. “I’ve already watched a couple episodes,” you tell him, “are you sure you don’t want to see the match?”

He doesn’t.

Simon wants to see you relaxed. That’s what he wants. He wants to see two or three pairs of your shoes by the bed. He wants to open the kitchen drawer and see that there are no cookies left. Wants to get home and find you painting your nails, oblivious to the dirty dishes in the kitchen. For once.

He wants to feel that you live there. That you’re actually a person. He doesn’t want you to be your mother’s daughter or your brother’s older sister. Simon wants you to be you.

He clears his throat. He’s not sure what to do with his arms, so he’s standing in the middle of your living room, still in uniform. Shit, he should take off the mask.

You’re looking at Simon with the same eyes you have when you hang up after talking to your mother over the phone. After she spent half an hour telling you how your “little” brother- the man is barely two years younger than you, for God’s sake- has a terrible schedule, always sleeping too little and not helping around the house. Because yes, unsurprisingly, your brother still lives at home. Once he told Simon- apparently joking- that he didn’t have to sweep the floors if he didn’t have his own place.

“That’s not… Not what I mean.”

There it is again. Your patience. You’re hurt- he knows it, even though he can’t see it; you never let it show-, and you’re still waiting for him to finish talking. Always attentive. Sometimes, Simon wishes you’d yell at him. Or be rude. Something. He doesn’t want you to mistreat him, it’s just… You deserve to let it out. And he’s a bloody good punching bag. He’d gladly take that place. If only you granted him the honor.

“I just… Aren’t you tired, love?”

You twist the kitchen towel in your hands and his stomach mirrors the motion. Your voice is carefully stable and light. Fake. Empty. “Like, from work? No, I’m okay. I mean, this project turned out to be more…”

He can’t stand it. Simon grabs your hand and pulls, absorbing you into a hug. He knows you like his chest. It’s like a warm pillow, you told him once, it’s comfortable. He hopes you meant safe. He hopes this’ll be easier to hear if he isn’t looking at you. He hopes it is not too late. He hopes you’re not too hurt.

“I’m sorry. I know the project is taking a toll on you.” His big hand moves softly against your waist, holding you closer. “You’re doing so much. You always do a lot. Just wanted to make sure you knew you don’t have to.”

You’re tense, and he can’t tell if it is a good sign or not. Simon closes his eyes and kisses the top of your head, right under his chin.

“You’re always good, you know that, right? Even if you aren’t doing anything. I just want to get home and see you. Don’t need you to put the dishes away or clean the bathroom, okay? It is okay to rest.”

He pretends not to feel you wiping your cheek against his t-shirt.

“Really, I’m not tired. And I don’t want you to get home to a mess, I-“

“You can rest even if you don’t need it, yeah?”

You’re good to me anyway. I don’t love you because of the way you keep the mirrors clean. Please take from me. Let me help you so I know you love me too.

He doesn’t say it. They aren’t actual words in his brain. It’s more of a desperation deep into his heart. Simon hasn’t cried in a while, but your hair looks blurry as you shake your head.

“I know, don’t worry.”

He doesn’t think you do. Or, he knows you do, he just doesn’t think you feel it. He’s seen the guilt in your eyes. It is there all the time. It must be a terrible thing to bear. To not have done anything bad and still carry the guilt. Simon has killed. He deserves to hold the weight of those lives; of the punches, shots and stabs that took people away from the world. He knows it. But you… You’re guilty of existing. Barely. And it’s eating you from the inside.

“Can you do me a favor?”

He hates to put it this way. Doesn’t want you doing anything for him. Least of all this. But he knows this is the only way you’ll agree to do it, at least for now. When you chirp a high-pitched “Of course!”- of course, as if it was obvious, as if you owed him something- he fights to keep his voice steady. His heart is not, but hopefully you’ll pretend not to hear it.

“Go lay on the couch, love.”

You start to protest, but he isn’t having it. He turns you around, snatching the kitchen cloth from your confused hands, and guides you to the living room.

“Put on your show, why don’t you? You’re about to start the new season, right? Give me a second and I’ll be here with you.”

Simon knows better than to give you the chance to reply. He shoves the remote in your hands and speedwalks to your bedroom. It’s bloody spotless; he frowns at the perfectly made bed. Your drawers are the epitome of tidiness too, it’s easy to find your favorite pajama. He hurries back to you.

Usually- always- you get dressed without help. This time, he takes your clothes off, folding them neatly and placing them on the corner of the coffee table before easing you into the soft pajama. He places your very confused self back onto the couch and covers you with a blanket before laying behind you.

You don’t really complain after that, which makes him feel lighter. He knows this doesn’t fix anything. He also knows he has to start somewhere.

Simon orders your favorite food, only letting you get up to go to the bathroom, and pets your hair. When you fall asleep, he kisses your temple and carries you to the bed. Before joining you, he makes sure every inch of the apartment is perfect. No dirty dishes, no messy couch, not a single thing for you to do. He even puts air freshener. Simon doesn’t mind doing all that in the morning, but you’ll see it as a chore and he won’t let that happen.

No, tomorrow you’re staying in bed. You’re sleeping the ten hours you need, you’re snuggling with him, and you’re going to relax at least a little. He grabs the book you bought weeks ago but haven’t started yet on his way to bed, and leaves it on your bedside table.

As he gets under the covers, he wipes his cheeks. Tomorrow you’re learning to voice your needs and put yourself first. Tomorrow you’ll stop walking on eggshells in your own home. Tomorrow you’ll be upset, tired, angry, annoyed and lazy. And he’ll be thankful for that. He’ll step up and be calm, energetic, patient, loving and take care of things. Tomorrow he’ll take care of you, and you’ll let him.

Tomorrow you won’t be perfect. Tomorrow you’ll be happy.

Okay, he admits to himself. Maybe not tomorrow. But tomorrow you’re starting. He’ll make sure of that. Simon is going to take care of you.

[itsdrawingmen]

I saw a dunmeshi art where they lined up the characters in their underwear, and got brainworms from it. I'm not really good at painted studies, it turns out, or maybe it just didn't work right now, but I like how the drawing came out. It was an excercise in different bodies, and I think they’re all neat.

Some headcanons and musings:

Zen has boobs, tits even, but that's canon, and all the time I was drawing him I was thinking about that selfie from his album where he's wearing a half-buttoned white shirt and his cleavage is visible. I am looking at him respectfully (not really, I am looking at him like this:

He's shaved everywhere, and he wears very plain, neutral-coloured underwear. His normal state is being pretty meaty, but he doesn’t like himself that way. He’s often dried out for his roles.

Yoosung is narrow-chested, thin, covered in moles, and comparatively kinda hairy — not by my European standards, but compared to the others here. He doesn't care about shaving, for himself or anyone else. He often wears funky boxers, and has sort of got a collection. Even when it's not funky-printed, his underwear is usually bright-coloured. He's cringe, but he's free. Also, not pictured, but he’s often covered in hickeys, normally from the chest up. Not gonna say who leaves them, but anyone who knows me even a little can take a wild guess 👀

Jaehee is wide in the hips and big-breasted. Her underwear is normally mismatched, because she doesn't care. The only thing she cares about is that it doesn't show through her clothes. In the canon timeline, she usually wears those thick stiff heavily padded bras that smooth everything out, and then over the course of the postcanon she gradually switches to softer cups. She's sedentary, often stressed, and doesn't eat well, so she's not really thin. She has acne on her face, neck, back, chest, and shoulders. She shaves because she’s too used to it, but she gradually gets more relaxed about it.

Next up is Joori Nam, the MC. She's a big, tall young woman, quite heavy and strong. She likes to show off her edgy and feisty personality in clothes and underwear, and she's also pretty expressive and energetic in gestures. She's depressed and a self-harmer. She barely shaves, only where is absolutely necessary to look ‘presentable’ for work. Otherwise, she can’t be assed.

The Chois are emaciated and scarred. They've both got some mild pectus excavatum. The Mother Choi used to stub cigarettes on them, and Saeran has got it worse.

Saeyoung is slightly more muscular and slightly less scarred. He has knobby square fingers, and nails bitten to almost nothing. He's also an active self-harmer. He's missing several toenails. All of his underwear is a little baggy on him.

Saeran is even thinner and less muscular. He has a lot of piercings, and his tattoo is blacked out into a full sleeve. He has barely any body hair at all. He is pretty much covered in cigarette burn scars, as well as scars from being whipped with cables, and several deep and crooked scars from gashes made with glass bottles.

Jumin, without his PR team, can't pose for shit. He is good at doing what they tell him, and he looks fine when photographed candidly, but as soon as he starts posing on his own, he just looks awkward and stiff. He has a weird case of CEO-body, where he's fit, but also weirdly soft in unexpected places (namely, his chest and arms). He shaves because it's 'hygienic'. He also wears briefs. Sorry, to me he looks like someone who wears briefs.

Jihyun is normally pretty toned, but after the whole ordeal with Rika and having to cover for her he has gained some weight and gotten soft. He has a long torso and wider hips and a bit of a belly. He hunches his back a lot, and picks at the skin of his fingers.

Rika is slender and dancerly, and very traditionally feminine. She’s small and graceful, not muscular, but soft, with smooth porcelain skin. She wears lingerie, always matching, always beautiful, and pretty much only owns thongs and tanga. Somehow, despite always looking up at people, she can easily make you feel like she’s looking down at you.

[vacantgodling]

anyway, yall wanna read some slight sauce about noh and emerion of course you do (i say knowing yall barely know about these characters PFF)

just some notes tho

noh is mute (completely not verbal though he can make sounds) and sign language is universal in this galaxy thing. whenever i have things he says in “” he’s not using his mouth he’s signing as an fyi

noh currently has amnesia but emerion knows about his past and hasn’t said anything but caught feelings in the process even tho they used to be enemies whoops.

anyway tho saucy shit->

“This... this doesn’t mean that I trust you.” Emerion’s voice wavered on the last word, around a heavy swallow that made his adam’s apple bob up and down. Noh let his knees hit the floor, the warm, shaggy, red rug muffling the bang of his knees on the reinforced steel of the headquarters that he was brought to. It was easy enough to get the zip ties undone; snapped them in half. It was easy enough to get Emerion to trust him enough to let him this close; Noh could see the very controlled rise and fall of his chest, the way his painted black nails dug into the synthetic wood of the desk he was pressed against. Noh raised a hand to his own face, tugging down his black mask. Against the open air, he wet his lips, absently tracing his tongue across them, before letting it slide back behind the safety of their plush gates.

Emerion’s eyes followed his tongue, like a hawk’s, watching its prey.

Noh’s hands shifted from himself to Emerion; dragging his hands up the rough fabric of his form fitting pants to the button that kept it hidden from view. He paused, let the moment hang. He let his hands hover just so before the zipper, let the gravity of the situation wash over the commander’s shoulders.

“I can stop.” Noh signed, one handed, keeping the other one close enough to Emerion’s pants so that he could feel the rising heat over his crotch. He looked up at him, underneath his lashes. “Though I’m not certain you want me to.”

Surprisingly, Emerion chuckled— almost humorlessly— dragging a hand over his face languidly. “Shit.” He let his arm fall from his face to Noh’s tracing over his lips with a featherlight touch. Noh suckled the thumb into his mouth, laving his tongue across it before releasing it with a wet pop. Emerion laughed again, and when Noh looked up he could see the blush spreading across his cheeks; soft enough that it could’ve blended into his skin, if Noh’s eyes weren’t so enhanced.

“Shit.”

“I’m waiting for your orders, Commander Jackson.”

“Don’t be a cunt.” This time when Emerion’s hand came towards him again, he felt it glide through his hair. Gently, at first, then tighter, in a fist.

“Suck my cock, Bell.”

[meli-writes]

Coffee? Vodka. - Ch. 01

Someone silken is looking into Cam-5a, foot tapping, waiting to be buzzed in. She doesn’t know but Torch can’t bring themselves to look back at her in the feed. “Now… what do I have you for today, ma Chérie?”

“Cut the shit,” Buck snarls; means the fake accent. “I don’t have time.”

The flirting too — if Torch could even stop. Their eyes flick to Cam-5b, hidden between never-emptied dumpsters; a low-angle shot, gratuitous even. Torch would smirk at the accusation, insisting the leering upskirt was a mere side-effect of redundant security.

“Rush order?” Torch asks, door unlocked. She’s in the red heels — it makes Torch choke, yank the illegal, under-river Ottawa-Gatineau cable and forfeit a 10000QBD Soko stake. Sep-cred is fake, whatever she wants has to be better. “You know I gotta get somin’ extra.”

Buck pours down the staircase — voice first, “It’s cheap as dirt, Tor.” Then, too-small dress and rainbow-optic hair extensions. She quivers a bit, “I just don’t have… access. Got it?”

“‘Course, Babe,” Torch soothes. “I’m here for you.”

When Buck — eye-rolled — sees Torch, the bulletproof slide retracted, hot-rod biker-helmet on the counter. Torch continues, “What trouble can I get you into? Reccs are free.”

“Uh-huh? For another pretty thing I can’t ever afford,” Buck retorts — not without cred, she thinks, hands rubbing on scandalous, bare freckles and lasered tattoo-remains.

“No toys this time,” she admits. “It’s— estradiol.”

Torch rocks back-and-forth in thought, cowboy boots knocking a mystery box stuffed with experimental, variously-inhumane grenades — compliments to clients Torch wouldn’t mind not turning into repeat business. It feels familiar, some ex must’ve said it, but— Tap-tap.

The bounced, red heel puts a shiver in Torch — their lowers, mostly.

“So— that’s like some kinda poison?”

Whines, known-not-the-pleasant-kind, spill into the cold basement air before Torch can even finish; Buck sees her own breath, imagines they keep doing this on purpose, just to make her tits stand on end.

“Estradiol Cypionate:

40 grams-per-litre, 10 millilitre vial. 3-to-5-percent QTL.

Two of ’em,” she begins. Goes on to describe needle gauges, lengths — ���latter should be 16 millimetres” — and syringes in Torch-stunned quantities; Buck’s an artisanal bitch, tools are to be repaired — and Torch happens to know how — not replaced.

Let alone have a hundred, two hundred spares.

When Torch doesn’t start to type it down she looms over, impatient. Her painted nails press on the flame-patterned helm till the polystyrene crunches. There’s an obedient clack as she continues — thin smile on her face, “220 alcohol swabs — actually, no I can get those.”

“Progesterone:

Suppository formulation, 700 of ‘em. 50:50’d between 100 and 200 milligram,

or make it 150,” she finishes, a curt nod when Torch looks up — dipping to the heels, the red ones, for a moment — before their face then locks into a bemused smirk.

“And that suppository goes—”

“Up— My— Ass,” she rebuffs, half-demonstrating in a rude gesture. Her arms cross over each other, retinas she’s digi-tinted in pulsing red finishing their roll into a distant, cob-webbed corner. “You wanna do some follow-up then get it delivered — stat!”

“So it’s for you, ya?” Torch returns, cautiously soft-faced.

“Yes — Tor. It’s for…” Buck starts, before catching Torch’s sweet inquisition too late. She lets her arms fall, thumb-link dropped to where the silk dress bunches at her hips. “Family Doc cut me off, but he could go fuck himself anyway. No, I don’t wanna— I’m not gonna tell you why and now I’m gonna run out in a week and…”

Torch offers a hand, rested on a loose stack of reboxed, tampered bio-pads, and she takes it; still not looking, her voice lowers to a squeak, “It’s— y’know, my medicine.”

“I gotchu, Babe,” Torch says. Her eyes squeeze shut, patterned off the calming pressure on her hand, blind to the smile that’s crept onto their face. “But you know — rush costs extra.”

It takes a moment, and—

Her lips sour; cheeks tremble, pushed up to her nose. Ten and a dozen steps back, hand falling limp and out-of-reach, till she’s lean-to on a crumbling, red-brick pillar.

Buck sucks in a frigid breath.

“No Tor, it doesn’t,” she says, directed at the floor. “I’ll schmooze you for what, a mag-pull grappling hook? Some floorplan, god-knows how you got it and I-don’t-want-to. Those— fucking— reusable shock-mines. Not this.”

She looks up, stare like a ballistic knife into Torch.

“I’m not the one choosing to put myself at risk here.”

Torch’s lip-danced lecherousness feels wretched now. They can’t think — or admit, perhaps — what it was before, other than miscalculated. “Alright… alright,” they say, words pressed around the lump in their throat. “Sorry Babe. You know how I am.”

“I wish I did,” Buck says, like cold, unstirred coffee.

Torch lets a few chuckles splinter out, “Now, how’s that supposed to make me feel?”

“Motivated, one should hope,” she replies. Her heels, Torch can’t look without tasting the dust-covered crimson sheen, point to the stairs as she turns — an inobvious, soon-dashed threat. “I don’t care what it costs, but you don’t need it upfront. It’s cheap, I promise.”

Torch doesn’t indicate much — she prompts, gentle, “Okay?”

There’s some cable-tangled boot tousling as they rattle to attention then relax the semi-startled posture, “If it’s your meds, I ain’t scamming you.”

She raises a brow, crosses her leg so the heels are pointing right at them, holding herself otherwise tortuously unreadable, “And that means you are sometimes?”

When she hears some winced, guttering moan in return she snickers and runs a palm up her cheek, following the blooming smile.

“Only when you ain’t being sharp,” Torch brims, with a restoked glow. “I know you’ll forgive me. Some clients make me money, it’s such a precious few that make me happy too.”

The cheek turns lily-white in her claws, when she drags them off her face it pulls her lips apart, spilling out airy frustration. She doesn’t see it this time, Torch has turned the heaters on at some point. It’d be better received if there was less eagerness in their gaze.

She takes another step, then stops.

One of Torch’s words is pursed on her lips, till it falls out, soundless. Now she’s said all she had to, the shadows slip off; shows the lines under her eyes. Torch thinks they might have to vault the table to catch her, that’ll she fall asleep where she stands — in those heels.

She got what she wanted. Those blood-dressed slippers signal an unmet request.

“Let me run the order,” Torch course-corrects. “Coffee?”

“Vodka.”

---

(Masterpost) / (Next)

originally written on cohost 27/05/2024, in response to Make Up A Criminals' prompt:

Thief who's not picking up what you're putting down

for additional context/history, the small reference to quebec separatists is a nod to Caffeinated Otter's own cyberpunk stories which occasionally reference them. example.

[thottie777]

college matt.

part 2.

you woke up the next morning to meg poking you until you opened your eyes, “y/n wake up for fucksake” she groaned, crossing her arms like a child when she saw you eventually squint up at her, confused on what the fuck was going on. “what do you want” you replied grumpily, rubbing your eyes and yawning, hair a frazzled mess from your heavy sleeping. “can you stop using my drunk elephant drops, they’re expensive and they’re mine” she demanded, looking down at you as though you were scum of the earth. “your drunk fucking what?” you responded, convinced she was speaking another language, “i haven’t touched your shit meg”, rolling over and burying your head in your cushions, hiding from the bright sunlight that was bursting through your windows.

meg stormed into the bathroom in a huff and came back, holding a pink plastic fragrance that was half empty, you knew what it was since meg sprayed it all over herself multiple times a day, stinking the room out. “can you also stop using my fucking sol de janeiro spray, get your own!”, you rolled your eyes and put your headphones in, attempting to block out the nonsense that was spilling out her mouth. it was times like these where you felt baffled on how matt tolerated her let alone loved her, you’d seen the way meg talked to him at times and felt appalled by the lack of self awareness she had, you couldn’t wait until second year so that you could move in with your best friend instead, but for your first year you knew that financially living with meg was your best bet, unfortunately.

-

(later that evening)

it was 11 at night and you were in your small pjs with leftover pepperoni pizza in a box on your bed and your hair in a messy ponytail, your laptop sat at the end of your quilt with the american office playing whilst you sat crossed leg, painting your nails.

you heard a quick knock at the door, confused since the only person who ever hung out in your dorm was matt yet meg was currently on a night out with her girlfriends. you crept out of bed, blowing on your black nails so they wouldn’t smudge and opened the door. there he was, stood with a cheesy grin on his face and a bag of reese’s in his hand, you gave him a soft smile. “meg isn’t home tonight matt, sorry if she miscommunicated with you”, he nodded, handing you over the reese’s “yeah i know, she wants me to pick her up later and said i’d be closer to the place if i hung out at your guys’ flat beforehand, that okay with you?” he asked “i bought sweeties, your favourite”, he beamed his teeth at you, it was impossible to say no to a face like his, you opened the door wider and raised your arm to gesture him to come inside.

hours went by, hours of giggling and long conversations. you found yourselves sat on the floor, backs leaning against your bed, your laptop shared between the two of your laps as you watched the lego batman movie on netflix. your knees were leaning against each other for comfort, it was too much effort to go out of both of your ways to completely avoid any physical contact since you were sat side by side, and it’s not like anyone could see you to judge anyways.

he looked down, removing his concentration from the film, “cool tattoo” he said, breaking the brief silence and staring down at your bare thigh. “thanks, spiders are actually my biggest fear so i thought i’d get them tatted on me so i could get over it” you murmured softly, letting out a soft laugh and looking down, a little embarrassed by your lame explanation. he lifted his hand that was closest to your side and gently placed his fingers on the spiderweb, trailing them delicately across the supple skin of your thigh, running lines around each corner of the web. your breathing became heavy as he completely caught you off guard by his touch, you tried to ignore the warmth between your legs as his skin held contact with yours. you felt your lips part from the light sensation, eyes fluttering shut as his fingers crept closer up you thigh to the top of the web. the goosebumps on your body were evident and hard to hide, you felt increasingly more flustered the longer his hands lingered on your body, “i like it” he replied, after what felt like years of sensory torture. you were disappointed when his hand left your thigh, moving it back down to his side and against the floor.

matt’s eyes made contact with the small tattoo that hid on your neck behind your ear, it was revealed due to the ponytail your hair was kept in- the tattoo was a match that was set alight, it had little to no meaning, you just thought it looked cool. your breath hitched completely when you saw matt lower himself to get a closer look at it, his hand travelling back to your thigh, doing loops around the web. as he leant in to observe it better his lips very lightly brushed the side of your upper neck, you were almost certain it was accidental but still felt a flutter in your stomach, feeling somewhat guilty of how aroused you were getting by such a tame interaction.

he slowly backed away from your neck, “that one is sick”, he whispered with a raspy voice, lips delicately grazing the edge of your ear as he returned his body to how he was sitting beforehand. “thanks” you mumbled, finding it hard to find words as you were attempting to lock in everything that just happened to your memory so you could save it for later when trying to sleep. you looked down at his arm and trailed your eyes over the numerous amount of tats that dotted across his skin, “these ones are my favourites” you pointed, placing your fingers on the leaves that fell down his forearm, “i love fall” you said quietly, looking back up at him and keeping heavy eye contact, he smirked at you and just as he opened his mouth to speak his phone began to ring, meg needed picking up.

[nickcarr-scoutstories]

I step into the small corner store and the smell of boiling peanuts floods my nose. It’s a pulpy, soggy odor, wasted of anything identifiable as a peanut. I find it more sickening with each visit.

The market is small. Candy bars are locked behind protective glass. Only a few of each item on the shelves: three boxes of spaghetti, four cans of chicken noodle soup…

I locate the owner in the rear of the store. He hunches over pots of boiling peanuts, stirs them slowly.

The man is ancient. He might be in his 80s, or he might be well past 100. He is bent and rigid, skin taut over bone, yet still wrinkled like worn leather.

I have a check to give him for $5,000. We’re filming on his block for two weeks, and he’s allowed us to use his rear parking lot for staging.

Throughout the shoot, I’ve made it a point to show this man the utmost courtesy and respect. Though I don’t know his history, it’s clear that he has lived a hard life, and my goal is for our production to be an experience he looks back positively on.

And yet, at every point, his manner has confused me. He speaks in short, curt sentences. There’s a bitterness to his voice. His eyes remind me of unlit coals.

The man sees the check. He motions for me to give it to the woman at the register, then returns back to his pots without a further word.

The woman at the register is his literal opposite. She’s about half his age, likely in her 40s. She’s obese, barely able to fit in the small space behind the counter. Where he has been steadfastly quiet and emotionless, the woman is loud and adversarial.

“That’s it?” she asks, eying the amount on the check. “Feels like you’re taking us for a ride.”

“In fact, you’re actually getting more than most business owners on the block because you have such a large a lot,” I explain.

She “hmmphs” me skeptically, resumes painting her nails. Like with the owner, the conversation ends abruptly.

I leave. The smell of the boiling peanuts trails me out, soaked into my clothes, my hair, my skin. I turn back to stare at the store for a moment, perplexed by an encounter that mirrors every previous encounter.

Then, I hear a voice behind me: “You actually gave money to that piece of shit?”

I turn. It’s the owner of the hardware store further down the block, who I’ve come to know during our shoot.

“Bet you think he’s just a kindly old man,” he says. “That man destroyed this neighborhood. For real.”

I ask him to tell the story.

“Back in the 80s, when crack first hit this area, that man’s son, a teenager at the time, became a dealer for one of the gangs. One day, a deal went bad, there was a shootout, and his son was gunned down. Dad over there swore he’d get revenge.

“So he started his own drug operation. He hired everyone that used to work with his son, paid them double what they were making to switch crews. He sold crack for cheaper than anyone else in the hood, because he wasn’t in it to make money. He started taking over the entire game.

“And his ace in the hole? You meet his old lady?” I ask if he means the woman behind the register. “Yeah. That’s his wife. He had her open a bail bond place. So anytime his guys got pinched, they’d call her and she’d have them back on the streets the next day selling.”

“The other gangs started getting mad over the lost business. That’s when the violence started. The killings. People were dying all over the place. Kids in his gang, kids in rival gangs, kids who were using his drugs. It went on long after all the people responsible for his son’s death were taken care of. It was like he couldn’t stop.

“Eventually, they got him. He was given 25 years. Been gone ever since. He only got released last month.

“That’s the man you’ve been so generous with,” he says with a laugh. “Just a kindly old man.”

I later confirm the story with a police officer assigned to our production. For the rest of the shoot, I avoid the owner and his store as much as possible.

But I can’t help notice each morning as the man hobbles to his store at 6AM and begins the process of boiling his peanuts, which he tends to unwaveringly throughout the day until he closes the store in the evening.

And not once in the entire two weeks of filming do I ever see a customer buy a bag of his boiled peanuts.

--

Please share/follow/like if you enjoyed. 

More stories: nickcarr.com

[gotatext]

JUDE & CHARLENE — DAY TWENTY-NINE.

location :   dressing room.

time :   during the dry bit of the day when everyone’s bored shitless. 

description :  charlene paints jude’s nails and honestly when i’m on my death bed and they ask me what my regrets in life are it will be never getting the time to finish this thread.

featuring :    charlene  /  @guttcd

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

"kay, so should we paint them black or do you wanna look at all of the colors i have?"  she's holding jude's hand with one of her own, while the other is working  on buffing his nails with a light purple block. "i'm like, pretty good at nail art too. i could do a little smiley face or a lighting bolt if you're feeling fancy." how did they get here? probably jude picking at a hangnail and charlene offering to help by dragging him into a full on manicure session. 

𝗷𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘆.

jude's never been a guy so insecure in his masculinity that he couldn't wear nail varnish. he's grown up with two sisters, he was one of the first in his secondary school to spearhead the earring movement ( "that's gay, bro" "nah, it's only gay if it's in the right ear, bro" )  and he's always been willing to let a girl guinnea pig him about a bit if it means they'll give him attention. "man, that sounds so cool. can you do like, checkerboards and shit? a little acid house smiley would tight as fuck, though."

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

she looks up from his hands to flash him a grin, pointing at him with the buffer in her hand. “you got it, babe. that’s so you. stick with me and you’re gonna be like, the e-boy of this generation.” cue the the snap and point gesture “you have nice nail beds so I could probably fit in a flame or write down ‘fck’ on one middle finger and ‘off’ on the other. flip people off in style!” she feels like jude would be into that.

𝗷𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘆.

charlene's the best. if someone doesn't snap charlene up, maybe jude will. as if she'd even let him. "okay, i've got five fingers, so how about, flame on the thumb, 'f' 'c' 'k' across the middle ones, acid smiley on the pinkie finger, same on the other but with 'o' 'f' 'f', y'know?" for a moment, he snaps his hands away, stretching out his fingers. "can i do anything to help or whatever, or you just want me to sit looking pretty?"

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

ever since there first interaction, charlene has developed a weird sort of affection for jude. he was crass and kind of a prick and yet in the same breath... was also kind of a sweetheart? it's equal parts confusing and enticing. "hell yeah, you're gonna have the best nails in the villa. aside from my own of course." she wiggles her fingers, showing up her sparkly nail polish with a playful grin. "you can sit there and look pretty but if you want time to pass by faster you should totally tell me about you! hometown, how do you like it? siblings, you got any? favorite foods, you into spicy or more of a sweet tooth kind of guy?" she doesn't reach for his hand when he moves it way, but she keeps hers in position, closing and opening repeatedly in a 'gimme gimme' type of way.

𝗷𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘆.

jude narrows his eyes at charlene’s nails, taking one of her hands in his and turning it over in his much larger one to examine each fingernail in turn. “yeah, they’re pretty fuckin’ good, actually. you could like… put this shit on tiktok. they love that crap.” by they, he means gen-z freaks like his sister siobhan. she’s running his socials right now, had practically jumped at the opportunity to do so. probably coming up with some bare funny captions, too. charlene pinches the air, and jude offers his hands, palms down, suddenly aware of how large and stumpy and coarse his fingers must seem.  “feel like i’m at the hairdressers. uh… okay. grew up in rochdale. it’s like, a suburb of greater manchester. it’s kinda fine, but actual manchester’s the tits. i love it, would live there forever if i could. i’ve got two half-sisters, aoife and claire, both older, one younger sister, siobhan. think i have a half-brother somewhere but i’ve never met him. siobhan’s my favourite person in the world, probably. uh… i like spicy shit. i used to do those hot ones challenges for shits and gigs. don’t have a sweet tooth. i like cats over dogs. i’m a sagittarius, if you’re into that?”  that feels like the most he’s spoken in one go on the show, except from trying to cover up his jenny mess last night with romi. not that it was even a mess—he helped her make drinks. no need to deep it. “what about you? tell me the fuckin’ charlene story… do you have any weird pets? phobias? you seem like the type to either have tarantulas as pets or be deathly afraid of them.” 

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

Always overjoyed to her a compliment, Charlene can’t stop herself from beaming at Jude. “Thank you so much! Maybe — I’m a total novice at it compared to some of my other friends. I have a friend who does celebrity nails, she goes crazy with it.” The moment she takes Jude’s hand back, she continues to work on buffing the shine out of his nail beds, eyes focusing on their hands. “You like the city then? Why don’t you live in actual Manchester.” The mention of Jude’s siblings brings Charlene to stop what she’s doing enough to look at him with a pouted lip. “Aaaaaw! That’s cool! I wish I had siblings. So you’re closest with your your youngest sibling? Are you the protective older brother type?” An impressed whistle escapes her then and she lowers her gaze to focus back on her handiwork. “Shit, Jude. Those hot one challenges are no freaking joke. Maybe after this you can get bag an hot wing interview guy. You’re into film, right? So you have any pets? Oh — Fire sign. I should have known. You totally have some spunk to you” Done with buffing nails, Charlene takes a moment to look into one of her bags as she speaks. “My story? Nothing super exciting honestly. Born in New Orleans but Ive been in New York for most of my life. Raised by my grandma and grandpa. Taught me everything I know about music. Did a couple of shit jobs after high school before landing my current gig at the lounge I work at.  I hate falling asleep in cars cus I have an irrational fear of the door opening and me flying out. I kind of hate sleeping in the dark. No pets – I live in one of those shitty dorm style studios. Barely enough room for me in there.” She pulls out a curve pusher,  using it to point at Jude. “Tarantulas are cute and fuzzy! I like them, but I would rather die than look at a centipede. No siblings. I like spicy food and sweet food. I think I’m more of a dog person but both are super cute. I’m an Aquarius. What are your phobias? Got any irrational ones?”

[beels-burger-babe]

All is Fair in Dice and War

***Soooo, @bagelsinatoaster I love this request. However, you didn't specify which board game and as I am a huge nerd I decided to take some creative liberties and combine this with another idea I've been meaning to write which is: MC introducing the demon bros to Dungeons and Dragons. I certainly had fun with this and I hope you like it!*** Summary: Leviathan's world is flipped upside down when MC tells him there is a game that basically allows him to be the Lord of Shadows in real life!! He demands that his brothers join him as MC introduces them all to the chaotic shit show that is Dungeons & Dragons. For once, it was a peaceful day in the House of Lamentation. Lucifer was lounging in the living room with a cursed record playing softly in the background. For once, Satan had willingly joined him and was sitting by the fireplace, thumbing through a book on the human world. Belphie had been passed out on the couch when he arrived and was still laying there with an impressive puddle of drool collecting near his mouth. Even Asmodeus and Beel had joined in, with Asmodeus gently humming to himself as he painted his nails and Beelzebub happily munching on a snack as he enjoyed the sight of his family getting along. Yes. It was perfectly quiet and peaceful, and Lucifer didn't even have any traces of his regular migraine. But of course, nothing good lasts forever. Everyone jumped as the door slammed open and a wide-eyed Leviathan dragged you into the room. The two you very closely followed by Mammon loudly complaining. "Oi! You're gonna hurt them! Cut it out, Levi!" Lucifer sighed and closed his eyes, momentarily mourning the peace that he had just barely begun to enjoy, and closed his book. "Leviathan, let MC go. What are you freaking out about this time?" Lucifer regretted asking the moment the words left his mouth. Levi looked at it with the expression he only ever got when his limited edition Ruri-Chan merch arrived; his eyes were wide and glittering with excitement while his face bore a grin so large that Lucifer was surprised it didn't rip his skin. The third-born was practically vibrating as he let go of your wrist and pushed you forward. "Tell them! Tell them about the game!"

You laughed at Levi's excitement and casually rubbed your wrist. "I was just telling Leviathan about a game that we play in the human world called Dungeons and Dragons-" "You get to make a fantasy world that everyone plays in, and everyone makes characters. You can be a wizard and cast spells against a huge monster! Or a war hero fighter that has been betrayed by his brother! Or a noble knight who is looking for his lost kingdom! And the best part is that it's real!" Levi interrupted, nearly jumping in place as stars danced in his eyes. You put your hands out towards him to try and calm him a bit. "Well, not entirely real. It is played in person, but it's a role play tabletop game, meaning it mostly relies on the players' imagination. That is unless you have thousands of dollars to spend on 3D maps and figurines of your characters." Levi's eyes grew even wider, if possible, as he started shaking his hands up and down. "I CAN HAVE A FIGURINE OF A CHARACTER THAT I MADE?! GAAAAAAAAAHH!" A pillow flew across the room and hit Levi square in the face as a now awake Belphegor glared at him. "Will. You. Shut. Up?" the Avatar of Sloth hissed as a dark dangerous aura grew around him. Beel gently patted his twin's head in hopes of calming him. Leviathan pouted as he noticed no one else seemed to be getting excited about it. "C-Come on guys! This isn't even a video game! It's a thing that we can all do together and personalize it to be something that everyone will like. It'll be fun! Right MC?" You nodded as you gently tossed Belphie's pillow back over to him. "Yeah. I love D&D. I played it all the time in the human world. There's action, suspense, and even romance if you really wanted it," a couple of the brothers perked up at that. "I could put together a one-shot for you guys to try it out if you'd like? I'll help you make your characters, and we can all get together for an evening and play it sometime in a couple weeks." The room went quiet as everyone thought it over. Most of them had no interest in the game itself, but if it was organized by you... "I'm in," Beel decided with a nod. "I think it will be fun. All of us trying something new; it could be neat." Satan casually flipped a page in his book, "The creative aspect of it is definitely appealing. We'd be the masters of our own fate, and that most certainly piques my interest." Asmodeus smirked as he put the cap on his nail polish. "And you said it could be whatever we want? My, one might say that this game could help our wildest fantasies come true~" he made sure to wink at you as he giggled. Belphie, who had only just got back his pillow, scrunched up his face in disgust and launched it at Asmo. "Don't make this weird Asmo," he looked over at you and shrugged, "So long as you do all the work in putting together the character thing, sure. Why not?" Mammon looked over at you from the corner of his eye. "Ya mean to tell me, that you can make it so I'm some awesome, rich, and powerful prince?" Asmo scoffed as he pushed the pillow off his lap. "Please Mammon, even the world of make-believe has its limitations." Mammon blushed as he growled at his brother. You just chuckled and teasingly elbowed his side. "Don't listen to him, Mammon. There is a set amount of how much money you start out with depending on your class and background, but I'm sure we can find something that will make you happy." The second-born blushed even more as he grumbled quietly under his breath. Lucifer tilted his head in thought. "I suppose that if everyone else is playing, naturally I must as well," he stood and began to make his way to his office. "I look forward to seeing what you come up with MC." The next two weeks were spent planning and carefully figuring out the details of the one-shot and the characters that everyone was going to play. Levi was, of course, the first one who came to you to build his character. The two of you spent hours going through the Player's Handbook and sourcebooks to find the perfect build to recreate the Lord of Shadows. In the end, you put

together a human fighter that you gave a couple magic items to make Levi's vision really come to life. It seemed basic, but for the Lord of Shadows, it was perfect. The moment the two of you finished, Levi dove to his computer and ordered a custom-made mini that looked exactly like his character. Satan was genuinely interested in the game, especially after he learned about all the lore and rules behind the different classes and races. You had just been chilling in your room one day when the door burst open. Satan stood there with wide eyes holding a copy of Volo's Guide to Monsters. "MC, why didn't you tell me there are cat people?!" You chuckled, knowing exactly where this was going. "They're called tabaxi, but yeah, they're basically cat people. Would you like to play as one?" He scoffed and snapped the book shut. "Is that even a question? Of course, I'm playing as one." After some discussion and bouncing back and forth between classes a couple of times, Satan settled on a tabaxi druid; that way he not only looked like a cat, but he could speak to them as well. After a few days of you spending time with his brothers focusing on getting their characters ready, Mammon came to you wanting the coolest, most epic character ever. At first, it was clear that he wasn't fully invested in the process, but as he saw the customizable options and all the cool stuff that his character could have, you got his attention. You ended up designing a golden teifling rogue (you tried to tell Mammon that teifling usually wasn't yellow, but he gave you such a sad look that you couldn't say no) that was decked out with piercings and gems all over its horns and tail. He tried to act like he wasn't that excited about it, but one day during class you caught him doodling what looked like a stick figure version of the character on his sheet with a big smile on his face. Asmodeus came in shortly after Mammon finished,

insisting on having the most charming and beautiful character there was. You tapped your chin at the request. "I mean, stereotypically bards are extremely charming and...well seductive...almost too seductive. But that's only thei-" Asmo had hearts in his eyes before you could even finish. "That's what I want to be!" You sighed and made a mental note not to include any dragons in the session as you marked Asmo down to be an elven bard and helped him create his character sheet. You hadn't heard anything from Lucifer for nearly that entire first week, until one day as you were lounging in the living room, he walked in holding a stack of resource books. "Ah, MC. I've been looking for you. I wanted to inform you that I will be playing a half-elf multiclassing as a paladin and hex-blade warlock." You blinked at him as he put all the books down in front of you. "O-Oh. Would you like help putting together your character sheet?" He just grinned and began to make his way out of the room once more. "I've already done it. I must admit that this was quite a bit more interesting than I thought it would be," and with that he was gone, leaving you to try and figure out what had just happened. With only a few days left until the one-shot, you had to go find the twins and get them to make their characters. Beel apologized like crazy for you having to track him in down in order to get his character made. The poor guy was in the middle of peak Fangol season and had completely forgotten. Once the two of you sat down in the kitchen with an empty character sheet in one hand and snacks in the other, Beel gave you his full attention. He put a lot of thought in his character and wanted to make it really good since he appreciated that you were doing something that they could all do as a family. He bashfully decided to play a halfling. Not only did the little creatures share his love for food, but he thought it would be neat to try being small for once. His class was also a surprise. After carefully flipping through all of the class options, he had eventually settled on a cleric. "They're the healers, right? This way I can help the others if someone gets hurt." You gave him a huge hug then and there. Belphegore, on the other hand, was not so easy to work with. "Belphie, come on. Just flip through the book and choose something!" He groaned into his pillow and rolled onto his side to glare at you. "I told you I would play if you did all the work for me. Me flipping through a book is work. It's not happening." After an entire hour of trying to get him to cooperate, you gave up. In retaliation you made his character a goblin barbarian, just to drive in the fact of how much of a brat he was acting like.

Finally, the day came for you all to play the one-shot, and much like you expected, it was complete and utter chaos. You had tried to maintain some structure and keep everyone on track, but it was hopeless. Levi and Satan were taking the game seriously and, Diavolo bless them, were the only reason their party was making any progress. Mammon was trying to pick-pocket every non-player character that they met while Asmo distracted them by flirting. This worked great for them until Mammon got caught and would've died from the resulting injuries if it wasn't for Beel. Speaking of Beel, the poor fella was trying his best to do well in the game but kept getting confused by all the rules and different stats and modifiers. Belphegor spent most of his time, trying to explain it to his twin, but in the end, Beel accidentally ate his dice and Belphie passed out on his shoulder. And then there was Lucifer. He had been mostly quiet the entire game. Surprisingly, he let Levi and Satan take the charge in any investigations and puzzle-based interactions, but he did so with a smirk. You had a funny feeling in your stomach that he was up to something, and you were right. It was the final boss. Satan and Levi were on the edge of their seats, having worked so hard to get the party to this point. You smiled, knowing that one of the best parts of D&D was finally taking down the big bad. In this case, you had prepared a beholder for them to fight. It would be no easy task. The fight should have required them to work together in an epic battle of wits, magic and melee attacks. Only, when everyone rolled initiative, Lucifer went first. The eldest smiled as his eyes sparked menacingly. "For my bonus action, I'd like to use my hex blade's curse on it, which allows me to add my plus four proficiency bonus to all damage, and makes any rolls of nineteen or twenty critical hits. I will then use my long sword with divine smite at third level to attack him and attack him again using my extra attack," barely giving you time to process what he said, Lucifer rolled his dice twice. "And that would be a nineteen and a natural twenty, meaning they're both criticals due to the curse. That should hit, yes?" "Wha-" You could only watch as Lucifer, now with twice the amount of damage due to his critical rolls pulled out a disgusting number of dice and rolled them all. And of course, with his luck, they all rolled high. "So that's 90 points of damage plus the extra damage from the curse and the bonus from my duelist ability per attack, brings this 102 points," he smugly perched his chin on top of his hands as the table gaped at him. You gulped and looked down at the beholder's character sheet, "Y-You just took o-over half of his hit points in one round..." His grin widened at the information, "What, like it's hard?" You never got the chance to finish the game, as Satan burst into his demon form and pounced on Lucifer, the eldest laughing like a mad man, while Levi tore up his character sheet in a fit of jealous rage. Levi never asked to play with everyone again after that. ***This was just so self-indulgent and I just- I loved it. It combined two of my favourite things and I have never been happier. This was more crack than fluff, but either way, it was fun and I hope you nerds out there enjoyed it 🥰 Thanks again for the request @bagelsinatoaster!*** Taglist: @mimik248 @roseytoesy @ester-is-here

[babyboibucky]

Devil’s Mark

Pairing: Rockstar!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: You accept a temp job as a runner for a rockstar’s concert.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: TW! Dubcon if you squint, toxic shit, filthy smut, mean!Bucky, rough oral (M receiving), rimming (M receiving), rough sex, slapping, overstimulation, Bucky marking you with a cigarette burn, MINORS DNI I BEG OF YOU

A/N: So this happened lmfao again, this is not to romanticize T*mmy L*e! I don’t care for him tbh, Seb’s tats and piercings were merely inspos for Rockstar!Bucky. Also, this piece sucks because it’s just idk, rushed and filthy and all over the place but I needed to get this out of my system so I can go back to my other WIPs lmfao

Also Rockstar!Bucky’s theme is Nine Inch Nails’ Closer sjcnkjsnakcs and please, he doesn’t have a goatee in this lmfao that fucking goatee ain’t working for me

Devil’s Mark Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

When you accepted the temp job as a runner for a certain rockstar's concert, you'd expected to follow the orders of the staff— bring some equipment to the other side of the venue, fix the lights over there, clean the microphones, buy them coffee— you know, the usual.

You did end up following orders, except that it involved taking the star of the show's cock down your throat.

Bucky Barnes was the epitome of a rockstar with his kohl-rimmed eyes, tattooed skin and piercings in unimaginable parts of his body. He smelled like smoke and leather, tasted like sex, sin and regret.

This was something you weren't supposed to do, hell, you'd never done something like this. At least, not with someone whom you just met a couple of minutes ago. But good god, there was something so irresistible about Bucky that made you say yes to him almost immediately.

Maybe it was the thrill of doing something that your mother warned you about, or the way Bucky looked at you like you were the prettiest thing he'd seen. Or was it his voice and how it sounded velvety-smooth yet rough around the edges whenever he praised you for being his good girl?

Perhaps it was Bucky's entire existence that made you want to desecrate your own image.

"Just like that. Doin' so good for me, sucking my fucking cock like your lollipop. You like how I taste?" Bucky cooed as he sat on the couch, eyes watching you as you kneeled in between his leather clad knees with your lips wrapped around the head of his cock.

You hummed and gripped his knees, hollowing your cheeks as Bucky's hands held your head to keep you in place. He grunted and threw his head back when you slid lower, doing your best to relax your jaw so you can take him further than you'd ever taken someone before.

"Fuckin' hell, sugar." Bucky groaned and violently pushed your head down, making you choke on his cock.

Tears pooled in the corners of your eyes, your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen when he forced you to stay in place. You could feel his cock pulsate against your throat, making you gag on it continuously. Your hands began to hit Bucky's thighs when he refused to let you go, your heart hammering against your chest as you panicked at the feeling of losing all the air in your lungs.

Bucky darkly chuckled, ignoring your actions. "Breathe through your nose, sugar. You can do it, c'mon." he cooed.

A mix of your spit and Bucky's cum escaped your mouth, dribbling along your chin down to your top, soaking through the fabric. You tried to follow Bucky's instructions and inhaled through your nose, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when you gagged again.

"Such a good whore for me, aren't you?" Bucky grunted, finally pulling your head by the hair, allowing you to gasp out for air.

Your cheeks were stained with your tears as you looked up at him, your chest rising and falling heavily with every breath you took. Bucky looked down at you lovingly, his hand tightening around your hair and the other gently caressing your cheek.

"You wanna make me happy, sugar?" he asked and you nodded eagerly.

Bucky then harshly gripped your face in his hand, squeezing your face as he tilted your head up so he could bend down and give you a kiss. It was sloppy, full of tongue and spit but it only spurred you on. The way Bucky was treating you was making you feel things you'd never felt before.

"I need your words, sugar. You wanna make me happy?" he asked again, louder this time.

"Yes, I want to." you said, voice hoarse from having his cock violently shoved down your throat.

Bucky slapped your face before gripping your jaw tightly, "Louder, sugar." he growled.

"Yes! Yes, I want to make you happy!" you exclaimed, eyes fluttering when Bucky tapped your cheek while praising you for being so fucking obedient.

You stayed on your knees and watched Bucky as he stood up, pulling his leather pants down further until he was completely naked. Wetness pooled in your panties as you took in the sight of Bucky, wanting him to just use you however he wanted.

To make you feel useful for once.

Bucky sat back down on the couch, spreading his legs as he gripped your neck, tugging you closer to his cock that rested against his tattooed abdomen.

"You wanna make me happy? I want you to fucking eat my ass." he growled and you blinked, not expecting his request.

Bucky noticed the hesitation on your part and leaned forward to kiss you again, this time taking your lower lip in between his teeth and tugging at it harshly until it bled.

"Not gonna ask you twice, sugar." he warned against your lips before leaning back against the couch.

Your trembling hand took his shaft, jerking him off as you bent forward to lick his balls first. Bucky grunted in response, his hips thrusting upwards as you continued to tug at his cock while your mouth proceeded to work on his sack.

A hiss slipped past your lips when Bucky took a fistful of your hair again, tugging you head back and lifting a brow at you.

"Sugar, I know what you're tryna do and that's not what I asked you." he said, gritting through his teeth and just like that, he dragged your head back down in between his legs as he leaned back against the couch.

Words failed to make it out of your mouth when Bucky pushed your face under his balls, his hand reaching down to grip his cock to jerk at it.

"Stick your tongue out, sugar. Make me feel good, you want that, don't you?" Bucky said, keeping your face in between his head.

You were more afraid to disappoint Bucky than your dignity, the feeling of being forced to do things you'd never imagined was making your thighs clench and your cunt weep. It never occurred to you that it was even possible for someone like you to enjoy being treated this way.

All this time you considered yourself holy, someone who couldn't bear to sin even if her life depended on it. And yet here you were, in between Bucky's legs with your tongue flattening against his puckered hole.

"Oh fuck, that's it." Bucky moaned at your first lick.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to get lost in Bucky's taste as you stiffened your tongue to prod his tight hole. His scent enveloped your senses, the sound of his hand jerking his cock coated with his own cum joining his grunts and groans that went straight to your core.

If this act was a sin, then why did it feel like heaven to you?

"You enjoy eating my ass, huh? Sugar? Yeah?" Bucky asked, grinning at you proudly as you looked up at him.

Seeing you like that made Bucky feral, lashes fluttering as you kept your innocent gaze on him while half of your face was buried deep in between his ass cheeks.

A saint who was willing to sin just for him.

Bucky pulled back and smiled down at you as you panted, "You ever been fucked?" he asked.

You nodded, letting him know that you've done the deed but never like this, of course. Bucky chuckled and cooed in amusement while letting his knuckles graze your cheekbone.

"I don't think so, sugar. At least, not like how I'm going to fuck you. Gonna ruin you for other men, make you mine and only mine. You gonna let me do that, sweet cheeks? Gonna let me use you however I want?" he asked but as usual, didn't wait for you to utter a single word to proceed.

Not that you were going to deny Bucky that.

He pulled you up to your feet by the arm, pressing a soft kiss on your lips before he unzipped your jeans and pulled it down together with your panties. Both your hands were quick to cover your mound from embarrassment, not sure whether Bucky preferred his women bare down there.

"Ah, ah." Bucky tutted, slapping your hands away before cupping your mound, making you jolt backwards at the cold sensation of the rings on his fingers.

"No need to be shy about a little hair down there." he said, dragging his hand upwards to play with the triangular patch of hair covering your mound before pushing you down on the couch.

"Open your legs, sugar. Show me how wet that fucking cunt is." he said.

He knelt down in front of you and almost salivated at the sight of your glistening pussy, so pink and so open as you spread your legs. A tinge of pink painted your cheeks as you watched Bucky nose the insides of your thighs, breathing in your scent while his hand continued to pump his cock.

"God, look at you. Dripping just for me." he moaned and then spit on your pussy, making you gasp out loud.

"I want you to make noise for me, wanna hear you scream my name. Wanna hear you beg for me..." he whispered before finally licking your cunt.

You moaned out loud, wanton and desperate for Bucky to keep going. He ate you out like you were his last meal, it was messy with his spit smearing across your thighs. Bucky was rough with you but god, the sounds he'd make as he lapped up your pussy was borderline obscene. Grunts, groans and muffled praises rang in your ear.

"Ride my face, sugar. Move those hips, smother me with your fuckin' cream. I want your scent on me, wanna smell you when I go onstage." he said and dove back in, your hips moving on their own accord as you chased your nearing high.

The surroundings spun around you and suddenly, all you could feel and hear was Bucky. His tongue and teeth on your cunt, his words of encouragement and then you were gone. Letting out a breathy moan when you came, you tried to close your legs but Bucky pinned them down on the couch as he continued to eat you out.

"Keep cumming, I want more. Give me more, sugar. Come on." Bucky urged and added his fingers into the mix.

Your thighs quaked and your clit was burning from how Bucky kept on sucking on it. Patches of your sweat began to soak your top, mixing along with the marks left by your drool and Bucky's cum.

"Bucky, I can't..." you sputtered out, grabbing at his hair and tugging him away.

That earned you a hard slap on your cheek, the sting only adding to the pleasure that was yet again building up within your core.

"Yes you can and you fucking will." he said and started pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy hard and fast until you were crying out again as another wave of orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks.

You weren't even done riding out your first climax when your second washed over you. And Bucky was relentless and damn insatiable, getting up and sliding his cock into your throbbing cunt.

Your throat went dry with how your moans were slowly transforming into a high-pitched shriek. Bucky was unforgiving as he fucked you, ignoring how your hands were scratching at his forearms in an attempt to escape their grip on your waist. The pleasure was too much, it was borderline painful but it was addicting.

The way Bucky's cock was extending your second orgasm to the point of coaxing out a third was making you delirious.

"You gonna pass out on me, sugar? Can't take my cock that well, huh?" Bucky mocked, his palm tapping your cheek to keep you awake.

You shook your head and tried to speak but couldn't do so. All you could do was whimper and babble like a fucking idiot as Bucky pounded into you. Just as when you were about to explode, his thrusts turned slow and languid, giving you an opportunity to recover.

"You still with me?" he asked with a chuckle, running his fingers through his sweaty locks.

Swallowing, you hummed in response and ignored how your body felt like it was literally on fire. Bucky reached for his leather pants on the ground without pulling his cock out from your cunt. Taking out a cigarette stick and a lighter, he placed the stick in between his lips and lighted it up. He slowly pulled back at the same time he took a drag from his cigarette, the pleasure building up once more as he pushed back into you.

Bucky almost looked ethereal like that with the fluorescent light illuminating behind him, puffs of smoke surrounding his figure as he stood in between your spread legs. His nipple piercings glistening, his tattooed arm flexing when he grabbed the back of your knee, pushing it down onto the couch to further open you up.

"Tell me you're mine to use." he said, nodding his head at you.

"I'm yours to use, Bucky." you whispered.

He smiled a charming smile, almost boyish in charm as opposed to his rugged and rough appearance. And then he sped up his thrusts again, making your toes curl and your fingers ball into fists.

"Yeah, you're mine?" he asked.

You nodded, face scrunching up in pleasure. "Yes, Bucky. All yours. I'm yours, please..." you pleaded.

"Please what, sugar?" he taunted.

"So close, I can't..." you didn't know whether you wanted to cum again or if you wanted him to stop.

Your body was buzzing from overstimulation but Bucky loved it. He loved seeing you like this, wrecked and sobbing. He merely laughed and blew smoke into your face.

"You can, sugar. Gonna make sure you cum again." Bucky growled, snapping his hips in a particular angle that brought you so close to the edge.

"Gonna mark you to make sure no one will want to mess with you." Bucky said, taking his cigarette out from his lips and then pressing it down against the inside of your right thigh.

Your scream was from the combination of pain from the burn and pleasure from your orgasm, making your body tremble on the couch. Your eyes rolled, tears spilling from your eyes and your spit seeping from the corner of your swollen lips.

"That's right, fuck. Milking my fucking cock so well." Bucky grunted followed by a breathy moan when he spilled his seed inside of you without any warning.

Too spent to even realize it, you laid on the couch almost lifelessly when Bucky pulled out and started dressing up as if he didn't just fuck your brains out. It took you a few minutes to return to the right headspace and when you finally came around, Bucky was dressed up in a loose muscle tee and his leather pants.

He walked over to you and bent down to squeeze your face in his hand, eyes glazing over your naked body before he looked back into your half-lidded eyes.

"Goddamn, sugar. Lookit you." he darkly chuckled before kissing you sloppily.

And then just like that, he was out of the dressing room. You looked down at yourself, naked from the waist below and flinched at the cigarette burn on the inside of your thigh. The ache was tolerable now, your intense pleasure masking its pain when Bucky pressed it against your flesh.

The burn was in stark contrast to your skin tone. It stood out, haunting you and reminding you that you sold your soul to a devil on earth— the devil's mark.

-

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @im-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2 @unmagically @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp @lyoongx @just-deka @nobody-will @jaziona92 @elisebuitron @dpaccione @suvikamahes98blr @buckybarneshairpullingkink @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes @iloveangstposts @weenersoldierr @asemistablehundredyearoldman @reidbuck @lizzarooni @girlfriday007 @bonkywobble @lost-in-the-stars03 @its-yasbxtch @whoth3hellisbucky

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

bullseye | got it bad, m | jjk, kth

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Kim Taehyung really regrets setting up his best friend with Jeon Jungkook, mostly because instead of dealing with one insufferable asshole, he now has to deal with two. He just wants you to come to his art exhibit and support him, and you show up looking like a pimp with Jungkook looking like your escort, sigh.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; you’re a cocky asshole and so is Jungkook; schemes, please save Taehyung; graphic descriptions of various sex acts, smut (fem reader, making out / dry humping / fingering in a public bathroom, threesome smut, mild restraint, nipple play, m-receiving oral, ass / pussy spanking, double penetration / spit-roast, facial, mild dom/sub themes, so much kissing); non-idol!BTS; fuckboy!Jungkook x bisexual, fuckgirl!reader; ft artist, best friend!Taehyung

yup, it’s Butter purple-haired ponytail JK and orange suit Taehyung

--

"You have got to be kidding me!"

"Oh, hey, Tae. How's it going?"

"Hey, hyung."

The voices, one irritated, one pleased, one mischievous, all three looking like the epitome of trouble and the eventual subjects of someone's wet dream.

Kim Taehyung marched over to you, purely indignant, his previous honey-brown hair now dyed to the color of black coffee, the long curls pushed back to reveal his forehead. One stray lock brushed against his dark, sculpted brows that were currently furrowed in annoyance. He stopped in front of you and your boyfriend, hands on his hips. He looked handsome as hell in a tailored orange creamsicle suit and gold earrings, white dress shirt neatly pressed.

"Why are you dressed like a pimp?" Taehyung hissed, jabbing your left breast through your dress. "Why are you dressed like his pimp?!" he added, pointing at Jungkook's smirking face.

You blinked innocently at Taehyung, lifting your oversized black fur coat sleeve to place a delicate hand on your chest, completely unbothered by his harsh reaction to your appearance. Your nails were a gradient from black to white, ever-so-slightly pointed, but not too long to be inconvenient.

Just enough to show you meant business.

Oh, and also you were wearing mock-neck, halter-style minidress that faded from black to white, molded to your every curve. It perfectly matched Jungkook's gradient black-to-white suit. Every step was accented with a sharp click, you in sleek black high-heels and him in glossy black oxfords, dangerous from head-to-toe.

Yes, Jungkook and you were that couple.

"Is that a t-shirt?" Taehyung snapped, switching to prodding Jungkook’s pecs, who grinned in response. You shrugged, the shoulders of your fur coat sliding down so that it now rested on your elbows, exposing your shoulders.

"He thought about not coming with one, but I advised him the other visitors would be too distracted by his sexiness to view your art," you explained, bowing as if you had done a great service.

"And I told her they would be to distracted with her amazing legs, but it's better not to cover them because I like looking," Jungkook chuckled, placing an arm around your waist and pulling you to him possessively.

Taehyung facepalmed.

"I regret paying matchmaker to the two biggest egos I know," he mumbled through his fingers, glaring at the two of you.

"Hey, we kept it low profile. Neutrals."

Taehyung pointed to your boyfriend's hair, pulled back into a sleek ponytail. "Hello? His hair is fucking purple."

You waved his comment away dismissively. "Well, besides that."

"You're a class-A asshole."

"Still makes me high class," you replied with a wink.

"This is really nice, hyung," Jungkook cut in between your bickering. "There’s quite a lot of people here already. I didn't know you were so talented and popular. As expected from my girl's best friend, eh?"

Taehyung winced, rubbing the back of his neck, ears turning red. "Eh... it's not a big deal..." he muttered, but you could tell he was enjoying the praise.

"Of course, it is, Tae," you chuckled, pulling out of Jungkook's grasp to hug him, squeezing him between your fur-covered arms. "You've worked so hard to be able to display your paintings at such a nice venue. I'm proud of you."

Taehyung laughed shyly, hugging you back. "Ahaha... thanks, as usual." He planted a light kiss on the top of your head. "I'm happy you guys came."

You grinned. "Indeed. You needed visitors to match the space," you drawled, sweeping your arms in a grandiose gesture to the glass cases of Taehyung's paintings, crisp white walls, and black marble flooring.

Taehyung rolled his eyes, smiling despite being over your antics. "Not sure I need a high-end escort and his pimp sauntering around..."

"When are your parents arriving? I want to introduce them to Jungkook," you interrupted, tugging on Jungkook's arm and making his cheeks flush pink.

"Like this?! Are you serious, my parents are going to have a heart attack once they realize there's a male version of you!"

"Aw, come on, your dad loves seeing me!"

"That's because you both are always up to no good... fucking always pulling pranks on me... I'm actually glad they're stuck in traffic now..."

-

You slid your thumb into his mouth, smirking as you heard his muffled whine. He was trying to stay quiet, staring down at you with half-lidded eyes, whimpering as you rubbed his tongue with the pad of your finger. One of your legs was hooked around his waist and he was holding it up with one hand. His other between your legs, fingers hooking underneath your panties.

“Fuck, I love looking at you, Jungkook,” you whispered, leaning forward, shuddering at the feeling of his saliva pooling around your thumb, your own tongue snaking out and tracing the air right between his open lips.

Jungkook moaned softly and shoved two fingers inside your tight, wet pussy.

You pulled your thumb out and crashed your lips to his, letting your satisfied exhale into his throat, your name trapped between his lungs and your hungry mouth, kissing him deeply as he plunged his fingers in and out, pressing your body into the wall of the bathroom stall. Shivers up and down your spine, back arching to feel even more of his chest against yours, frustrated at the clothing between you and him, but still hot and exciting, your hands circling his head and playing with his ponytail, rolling your hips into his rough thrusts.

You tried to break free and moan, but Jungkook captured you with his lips, forcing your noises into his mouth to silence them, rubbing his erection against your hip and thigh, the sound between your legs getting louder because you were getting wetter, closer, your eyes cracking open and seeing his half-open too, staring at you with lust and love, determined to push you over the edge, even in the men’s bathroom where Kim Taehyung’s art exhibit was being held.

Hey, you both waited until you had a nice, long conversation with Taehyung’s parents where his mom drilled Jungkook with questions about what he did and what kind of person he was. His dad, in contrast, seemed to approve of Jungkook and gave him a hearty slap on the arm, telling him trouble and trouble often went well together. Then you and Taehyung’s dad had a praise fest about his son, which made Taehyung turn beet-red in embarrassment. Both of you meant it all, of course.

But, also, both of you enjoyed embarrassing Taehyung in public. It was fun.

Yeah, dads loved you.

You couldn’t imagine why that was.

All that aside, after Taehyung's parents bid their son goodbye, Jungkook dragged you into the men's bathroom and began to make out with your face.

He contained himself for a few hours. It was a valiant effort, living off only groping your ass a couple times, but a man can only take so much when you’re looking like a five-course meal and he’s aware that you’re willing to let him eat, you know?

No? Oh, well.

Maybe that’s just your problem.

Also, yes, maybe you discreetly teased him a couple times by rubbing your ass on his crotch and pressing your tits against his back. Maybe.

You lowered one of your hands, cupping your fingers around his length, sighing in his mouth, feeling how perfectly rock-hard he was, knowing you couldn’t have it and he couldn’t give it to you, not yet, but soon, his deep snarl at your touch, fuck, kisses intensifying, shoving his fingers into you all the way to the knuckle, the wet squish audible and obscene, the adrenaline of danger and satisfaction creeping you closer and closer to your high. His thumb came up and grazed your clit, making you close your eyes and rock your hips into his touch, moaning his name into his own mouth, his force of his fingers pushing his thumb against your throbbing clit hard and fast, the scent of black coffee and lush dragon fruit on his skin and yours, mixing with the sweetness of your orgasm as you wailed in glorious triumph, clutching his head with your hand and his waist with your leg, your other one shaking with strain as each pulse shook you, squeezing his clothed length in your hand, wanting it and pulling back to tell him just that in hot whispers, his soft moan against your mouth, whispering back, your name and his desire, his dark brown eyes nearly black with lust.

“Shit, you know how bad I want to fuck you, right now,” Jungkook panted.

“Please don’t.”

Huh?

You raised an eyebrow at the annoyed baritone voice. “Taehyung?”

“Do you know how long I’ve been standing here, knocking on this bathroom stall, you absolute horndogs?”

You heard him gritting his teeth, his voice nearly a deep growl. You did what any natural person would do.

Reached over and unlocked the door, letting it swing open to reveal your and Jungkook’s grinning faces.

His fingers remained very firmly inside your pussy, barely covered by the hem of your dress. You swept your arm back so your fur coat was out of the way. Always considerate. Taehyung stood at the opening of the door, hands on his hips, orange blazer flaring out with his posture, immediately throwing up his hands and jerking his head away once he realized that, yes, of course, you two would not bother covering up anything.

“Fucking – shit, get your hands off her, man, go home to do that–”

Jungkook began to slide his fingers out, scissoring them with a wet squish and you mewled, slightly exaggerated and performative.

“Oh my God, never mind, stop, leave them in there,” Taehyung snarled, realizing he was facing the mirror and therefore could still see both yours and Jungkook’s smug smirks. He abruptly turned ninety degrees, now facing the wall, giving you both the side eye. “The fuck is wrong with you people? Do you have any decency?”

“Sure, we do,” you chirped.

“Yeah, that’s why we’re in the bathroom,” Jungkook added, softly rubbing your clit and making you bite your lip, enjoying it very, very much.

A muscle in Taehyung’s eyebrow twitched. “Public bathroom,” he snapped, rubbing his forehead. “Fuck, what if it wasn’t me who walked in here? What if It was some goddamn stranger listening to this shit?”

“Speaking of which,” Jungkook mused, cocking a brow. “Normal people would just leave. Why did you stay and listen?”

You didn’t say anything. You were simply happily grinding on his hand, the gentle pressure creating a constant ecstasy that you were completely satisfied with, one hand hooked around Jungkook’s neck, waiting for Taehyung to answer with a huge, amused grin on your face. Taehyung knew everything about you.

It almost meant you knew everything about Taehyung.

He rolled his eyes. “You act like I’ve never heard her orgasm before. Big fucking deal.”

Jungkook gave him a pair of incredibly wide eyeballs that indicated that, yes, that was kind of a big deal.

“Tae was my first kiss.”

“What?’ Jungkook blurted, snapping his head back to you.

You shrugged. “We were, like, eight. Just wanted to know what kissing was.”

Jungkook blinked very rapidly, stunned.

His two fingers were still inside you.

You scrunched up your face, thinking. “We were also each other’s first head and fuck too. Although it wasn’t very good.”

“You were a bit shit,” Taehyung interjected.

“It took you five whole minutes to aim. Even a watermelon would be dry at that point.”

Jungkook was still trying to process that you were each other’s first kiss with his fingers knuckle deep in your pussy. “W… What? Why aren’t you guys dating?”

You snorted. “I can’t do that. He’s like my brother.”

Taehyung stuck his tongue out. “And she’s like my sister. That’s weird.”

Jungkook finally yanked his fingers out of you and threw out his hands in disbelief. “And being each other’s first times for – shit, basically everything – isn’t weird?”

Your eyes flickered to Jungkook’s soaked fingers, your cum stuck between them in viscous strings. Ooh, sexy. You licked your lips, breaking out in a pleased smirk. Taehyung spied what you were looking at and facepalmed. Jungkook seemed to notice too and turned to look at it, suddenly forgetting the whole discussion.

And put his cum-covered fingers into his mouth, moaning deliciously around them.

Taehyung made a horrified face in the mirror, making eye contact with you.

“Um, gross!”

“Eh, shut up, Tae, not like you haven’t done it in front of me before.”

“Well, I don’t wanna watch Jungkook do it,” he shot back, spinning around to glare at you. “He’s your boyfriend!”

You quirked an eyebrow. “You’ve seen other guys do it before when we’ve had threesomes. Plus, you’ve watched me open my mouth with other men’s cum in it so you could cum in my mouth too.”

Jungkook choked on his own fingers.

“WHAT?” he roared.

“You weren’t serious about them!” Taehyung flicked his hand, completely ignoring Jungkook. “And you’re my go-to when the girls I’m seeing want to experience a threesome, so I was just doing you a favor!”

Your boyfriend was having a mild heart attack and neither you nor Taehyung seemed to notice, too busy bickering about your strangely integrated sex lives.

“What’s the difference? It’s just Jungkook. You guys are friends.”

“Yeah, extra reason why I don’t want to sit around and imagine him slurping from your vagina. I gotta look into his eyes later!”

You raised your hands, shaking your head. “So what? You’ve seen my other sex partners in public and never said much about it. Why are you making such a fuss now?”

“Because!” Taehyung flung his hands, stamping a foot on the tile floor in frustration, his handsome features twisted into despair, hands on his head and messing up his dark brown hair. “Because you’re going to stop being my friend now that you’re serious about someone and I can’t do anything about it because that someone is Jungkook and I actually like the guy! I’m fucking happy for you and shit, but, fuck, fuck, what am I gonna do when you’re not in my corner anymore?”

Your jaw dropped, shocked.

“Tae, what are you talking about–?”

He spun around, about to run out, but you were faster, grabbing his arm and pulling him back, yanking him into a fierce hug. And, just like that, Taehyung was that awkward, weird kid in elementary school again, not wanting to admit he was scared and frightened of the big mean boys teasing him about his odd drawings and strange thought processes, calling him a dorky alien. He grabbed your shoulders, shivering, holding back tears.

“No one’s gonna protect me…” Taehyung sniffed, burying his face in your hair. “If you’re gone, I can’t be brave…”

“Hey, you know that’s not true,” you chastised lightly, squeezing him. “You’ve become strong, all on your own. You know that. That whole exhibit is filled with your art. You even got offers to buy some of your pieces. Isn’t that amazing?” You pulled back and placed your hands on Taehyung’s cheeks, smiling up at him kindly. He still looked gloomy and uneasy, lower lip sticking out. “Come on, you know I’m right, Van Gogh,” you teased, pinching his cheeks a little. He fidgeted, frown lessening. “I will always, always be in your corner. No matter what. No guy is going to make me stop being friends or supporting you. You need me to knock someone’s front teeth out, give me the time and place and I got your back.”

“That’s going to send you to jail,” he muttered, smiling slightly.

“Then I’ll go to jail. That’s just glorified detention because they give you free meals.”

He laughed, still with a tinge of anxiousness. “You promise you won’t stop being my best friend over some guy?”

You grinned. “You’ll always be my best friend, Tae. I just happen to really enjoy his company and his dick. You know, a girl has needs.”

He stuck his hand out childishly, pinky sticking out. “Pinky promise me.” Then he stuck his other hand out. “Actually, double pinky promise me.”

You crossed your wrists over each other and pressed your pinkies to his, squeezing his hands tightly.

“I promise I’ll always be your best friend.”

“Uh, guys, you’re kinda making me feel like a third wheel…”

Jungkook might as well have been a bathroom sink to Taehyung and you in this moment.

Taehyung nodded firmly to you. “Okay. You promised. You better keep it.”

You rolled your eyes. “When have I ever broken a promise to you?”

“Hmm, I guess you’re right…” All of a sudden, he looked down at your hands and wrenched his own out of them. “Oi! Where have those hands been, young lady?” He looked at his open hands with a repulsed scowl. “You better not have touched his dick and then my hands without washing yours! That’s disgusting!”

“Hey, I take offense to that,” Jungkook retorted heatedly. “My dick is perfectly clean and she didn’t get to touch me yet because you busted in and interrupted us–”

“What are you going on about, you’ve touched my hands after I’ve given handjobs! I didn’t hear you complaining!”

“He’s done what–?”

“I keep telling you that’s different, this is Jungkook, a man you actually love, and here I thought you were incapable of that.” Taehyung spoke over Jungkook, jabbing his finger into his palm to drive his point home. “You get that sparkly shit in your eyes when you talk about him and it makes me want to puke–”

“I do not get sparkly shit in my eyes, what the fuck does that even mean?”

“You literally will not shut up about how pretty he is!”

“He is pretty! Look at him!” You banished your arms in Jungkook’s direction like he was your first-place trophy on display, which he might as well be at this point with how much attention either of you were giving him. At least he looked the part.

Taehyung rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, throwing his whole head back. “I can give you pretty. You’ve been telling me I’m handsome all my life.”

“Why don’t we just have a threesome?”

Silence.

Both you and Taehyung jerked your heads to Jungkook, jaws dropped at his suggestion.

The door to the men’s bathroom opened and an old man bounced in, humming to himself.

He saw you.

He stopped, tilting his head. Then he looked from Jungkook to Taehyung and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Love triangle or sexy night, boys?”

Taehyung choked on air. “Not a love triangle.”

“Oooh, sexy night.” The old man gave you two thumbs up. “I’d love to join, but I’ll back out this time.”

You laughed heartily as Jungkook and Taehyung grabbed your arms, pulling you out of the men’s bathroom, not about to discuss a possible threesome in front of some old guy who vaguely offered to make it a foursome.

You made sure to give the old man a wink, sticking your head back in the open door to say, “Maybe next time, eh?”

The old man cackled and Taehyung slapped a hand over your mouth, dragging you out.

“Please shut up, I fucking swear…”

-

“So, why is it different?”

Somehow both you and Jungkook had dragged your best friend into your apartment and tied him to a chair. One of those nice wooden ones with plenty of openings to slip cotton rope through. Probably not what Kim Taehyung thought he was going to do right after his art exhibition, but judging by his peeved, unsurprised face, it wasn’t a completely unexpected result either.

You had pulled up another chair to sit in front of him, still wearing your fur coat, knees between his knees, mostly because Taehyung was forced to spread them because of how you tied the knots.

“I think I hate you,” Taehyung muttered.

“Nah.”

“At least a little bit.”

You slipped the shoulders of your coat down, exposing your skin, casually crossing your arms under your breasts and leaning forward, smiling sweetly at Taehyung. His dispassionate face basically said, ‘go-suck-your-own-dick’. He tried to pulled his arms free.

“Don’t rip your blazer.”

“Bite me.”

“You gonna answer my question?” you asked, redirecting the conversation.

Taehyung clicked his tongue. “I told you. It’s because I can tell you love him.”

You broke your playful demeanor for a second, smiling broadly. “Really?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, you dork.”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever felt like more of a third wheel in my entire life even though you’re talking about how much you love me,” Jungkook said behind you. He was sitting on the couch, as the chairs had been repositioned in the living room.

Taehyung pursed his lips. “That’s why I got scared, you know…” He leaned forward a bit, pouting. “What if you spend so much time with him that you forget about me? What if you guys break up and you blame me?” If he was untied, he would be nervously picking at his lower lip with his right hand right now. Instead, he chewed on it, worried expression clouding his strong features.

You shook your head, reaching out to fluff his brown hair. “You think too much. Why would I blame you over a breakup? If anything, I’d be dragging you out so you can help me keep a record of how many people I can fuck in a night.”

Taehyung made a face. “Why can’t you be normal and cry while eating chocolate?”

“You know I don’t like chocolate.”

“You don’t like chocolate?” Jungkook choked in disbelief.

“I have to fuck my problems away, Tae. That’s the best way to deal with them.”

He rolled his eyes. “You need to see a therapist.”

“Nah, I got you.”

Suddenly Jungkook’s face appeared because you two, sitting on the coffee table.

“How do you not like chocolate?” he pressed, staring at you.

You blinked at him. “I mean, I don’t hate it. I’m just not crazy about it like some people. Isn’t that better for you? I can give you all the chocolate that I receive.”

This thought didn’t seem to have crossed Jungkook’s mind. He grinned, highly pleased with this result.

“You’re even going to give him your chocolate?” Taehyung gasped, affronted. “That’s it, this friendship is over. I can’t believe you would betray me like this!”

You placed your hands on his knees. Taehyung huffed.

“You want me to untie you now?” you asked, patting his thigh and ignoring his dramatic outburst.

“Why? I thought we were going to have a threesome.”

Both you and Taehyung whipped your heads to blink at Jungkook. He smiled innocently, which did not look innocent at all with his sleek purple ponytail and mischievous eyes.

“Nobody agreed to that.”

“Yeah, Jungkook,” you sided with Taehyung. “Nobody agreed to that.”

“Aw, come on,” he nudged, grinning. “You guys have obviously touched each other before, right? And I can totally trust hyung not to fall in love with you.”

“Because my preferred type wouldn’t hump me in a public bathroom,” your best friend muttered.

“I’m sensing judgement here, Kim Taehyung. Watch your mouth,” you warned.

“Choke on my dick.”

“We can start with that,” Jungkook chirped cheerfully.

“Why do you want this, anyway?” You narrowed your eyes at your boyfriend. “You never expressed any interest in threesomes before. I assumed you were too selfish for that.”

“I am.”

You raised an eyebrow.

Jungkook grinned devilishly.

“But I also wanna see you get spit-roasted.”

“Don’t–” Taehyung began.

Jungkook spread his legs, revealing his erection straining in his slacks. Taehyung snapped his head away, groaning an annoyance, disappointed but not surprised that your boyfriend had zero shame. Jungkook bit his lower lip, tiny mole underneath quivering, excitement and lust in his dark brown eyes, looking right at you eagerly. He purred your name. Taehyung visibly cringed.

“You know I would…” you drawled softly, reaching over to squeeze Jungkook’s thigh. “But I don’t think Tae is into it right now.”

“Yeah, I’d only do it if I was horny and desperate.”

“Then why do you have a boner?”

Both you and Taehyung whipped your heads down to see his dick trying to bust out of his pants.

He glared at it. “You traitor.”

“Are you talking to your dick?”

“Look,” Taehyung snapped, letting out a puff of breath and frowning at Jungkook. “I’m not immune, okay? She’s hot, sure. Absolutely one of the sexiest, most beautiful women I know.”

“Aw, so sweet!” you interrupted, smacking his leg in mock bashfulness.

“And,” he gritted, shooting you a scowl. “I might be horny and desperate, sure.”

“So, what’s the problem?” Jungkook inquired, smug smirk on his face.

“Well, you’ll get jealous, for one.”

Jungkook blinked, confused. “What?”

“Taehyung has a big dick.”

You said it so nonchalantly that Jungkook was speechless.

“Mhm.”

“Not as nice as Jungkook’s dick though.”

“Excuse me? I am offended.”

“You honestly need to improve your technique. You think your size alone is all that matters? Jungkook’s the whole package, great dick, cute smile, diligence, strength, always up for anything, perfect duality–”

“Shit, shut up about him, I get it, he’s the hottest thing to walk on this earth, now stop verbally jerking him, he’s not gonna agree–”

“Kiss him.”

You and Taehyung froze.

Eyes flickering to Jungkook, who raised an eyebrow challengingly.

“Kiss him,” he repeated.

Eyes back to Taehyung, who was breathing hard.

“Only because I’m horny and desperate,” he growled.

The corner of your lips ticked upwards.

“Got it bad, eh, Tae?”

You placed your hands on his thighs, sliding down, rising off your chair. You felt Taehyung’s muscles tense, narrowing his eyes. He tried to keep up his severe front, borrowing your tendency to use arrogance to hide your true feelings.

“Isn’t that you?” he challenged. “Need me to satisfy you even though you have Jungkook now?”

You smirked, seeing right through him. “You always give me such blessed service though.”

Something flared in his brown orbs, pupils expanding as you neared. “Don’t.” Your head tilted at his tone, almost pleading, and still you advanced, your soft inhale ghosting his lips. His gaze was on your face the entire time, swallowing hard, anticipation creeping into his stern expression.

“Don’t what?” you whispered teasingly.

“Don’t say it in front of him.”

“But you like it.”

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t need to know my embarrassing turn-ons.”

“What if I slip?”

He clenched his jaw. “Fuck, fine, whatever.”

Your hand reached up to cup his cheek, licking your teeth slowly, maintaining eye contact. Your words a low hiss, laced with pure lust.

“My good little angel, let this devil corrupt you.”

Taehyung whimpered and you closed in on his lips, kissing him deeply, straddling his lap, rolling your hips into his, voracious, greedy kisses, Taehyung gasping in your mouth as you bounced on his crotch, your spread legs causing the hem of your dress to rise, popping over your ass, moaning into his mouth as you worked him under you, his body familiar and comforting. His tongue encircled yours, whining for more, and you mumbled sweet nothings to him, remembering all the things he loved to hear, and he gave you all the things you loved, the neediness in his kiss, the desperation of his hips rising to add more friction. You weren’t exactly immune to Taehyung either. You could control yourself, normally.

But Jungkook gave you the green light, so you went all in.

Your hands were in his hair, tangled in the strands of black coffee, murmuring in his lips, sweet angel, and Taehyung moaned, fiercely thrusting his hips up and you sitting down on it, already wet, sighing satisfyingly at the feeling of his impressive length straining to reach your dripping heat, too many layers of fabric between them.

“Such a good boy doing such bad things,” you purred against his lips, amused at seeing your lipstick all over his mouth.

Taehyung looked up at you with glazed brown eyes, a tinge of unease in them. Maybe he didn’t want to show Jungkook his vulnerable side. You could understand that. You didn’t mind playing your role but Taehyung was more guarded. He didn’t like to be criticized or judged for the things he liked. You noticed his gaze flicker to Jungkook and then back to you.

You tilted your head and cradled his, running your fingers through his hair. “You want me to stop, I’ll stop,” you cooed gently, kissing his ear.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he breathed, so quietly you barely heard it. “I don’t want him to judge me.”

You chuckled. “I wouldn’t worry about that.”

Taehyung made a disbelieving noise.

“Something wrong?” Jungkook asked behind you, sounding curious and confused that his show was paused.

“Mhm, need you to take my coat,” you replied, pulling back, lowering your arms so Jungkook could stand behind you and remove it. You slid your hands out elegantly, seeing Taehyung’s messy dark hair and lipstick-stained lips. You heard Jungkook back up and you reached into Taehyung’s blazer, pulling out his handkerchief and dabbing at his mouth, carefully wiping it off.

“We can stop,” your reminded him gently.

“No,” he growled, frowning. “I’ve got a massive boner and it’s all your fault. Get me off.”

You grinned. “Alright, angel.”

You saw Taehyung bite his lip, shivering at your words. You couldn’t remember how this started, but it always worked. The roleplaying helped with the whole ‘having-sex-with-your-best-friend’ thing ten times less awkward, and it made it much easier for him and you to get off.

Unfortunately, it also was starting to make both of you much hornier while having sex with each other.

Whoops.

He clicked his tongue, raising his head, eyebrow cocked.

“Dirty little devil.”

You smirked. Taehyung’s voice was always sexier when he was aroused, deep and sultry.

One by one, you undid the buttons of his dress shirt, kissing at his exposed chest, the deep rich tone of his tan skin standing out against the white, his eyes closing at your touch, running your tongue down his sternum and blowing on it.

He shuddered, moaning your name, long and sweet.

You shifted, intending to push the chair behind you back, but it was gone. Instead, your ass backed up into a pair of very muscular legs. You paused, turning your head to see behind you.

“Jungkook–”

A firm hand stopped you, forcefully jerking your head back to Taehyung’s chest.

“Look forward,” Jungkook commanded.

A shiver down your spine at his tone. You smirked, peering up at Taehyung, who smiled.

“He jealous?”

“I’m not,” Jungkook snapped, grabbing your ass.

“A little bit,” Taehyung chuckled, and now he was smirking too.

Eerily similar to you, because who else would he learn such a devious expression from? You taught him well. You hummed, yanking Taehyung’s shirt open and pushing it to his shoulders, his naked torso now exposed to your eyes and mouth.

“Can’t imagine why. This was his idea.”

Taehyung jerked his head to you as you lowered yours to his chest. “What?”

But your lips closed around his nipple and he gasped, sputtering, confused, and then moaning as you moaned, Jungkook yanking down your panties and slapping your ass with his open palm, the sting added to the disapproving hiss of your name.

“He’s not supposed to know. I didn’t do all that acting for nothing,” he snarled, and your response was wiggling your ass, nipping your teeth over Taehyung’s chest, his handsome features twisted in ecstasy and pleasure, the tip of your tongue teasing his other nipple, pushing it around with your strong, wet, warm muscle.

“Whoops.”

Taehyung narrowed his eyes at you and your not-so-innocent tone.

Jungkook clicked his tongue. “Such a bad little devil. You need some punishment.”

“He already knew?” Taehyung gritted, glaring daggers at your grinning face, saying nothing, your deft fingers undoing his pants. “Answer me, woman.”

Jungkook was positioning your lower half, ass up, legs spread, pussy exposed to his eyes and hand, your dripping core tense with anticipation. When he spoke, his voice was deep and silvery, laced with danger and desire.

“Answer him.”

And he spanked your pussy, making you cry out and leak between his fingers, the sudden sting of pain so nice, and you had the audacity to continue giving Taehyung that infuriatingly smug expression as you dragged his pants and underwear to his knees, freeing his stiff length that stuck straight up, your body repeatedly lurched forward by Jungkook’s open palm on your soaked slit, your juices splattering on his hand and the inside of your thighs. With a smirk, you lowered your head.

“Mhm, he knew… ah, fuck, yes, Jungkook, just like that…” you sighed in satisfaction, tongue snaking out and wrapping around the head of Taehyung’s cock, bobbing your mouth up and down like that, stimulating just the tip, paying extra attention to the underside of the head. “Sorry, Tae.”

“Swallow me whole,” he growled. “Now.”

You were ready to do it, of course, but you felt Jungkook’s hand clap onto your leaking, heated pussy lips, and the other danced up your back, so you waited, letting him grab your head and push you down, not quite as roughly as he would have if he was actually being mean, but with enough pressure that you knew he just wanted to do the physical action, wanted to feel the power even if there was no maliciousness behind it.

Your lips closed around Taehyung’s pulsing, hard length, taking it all, a familiar girth stretching out your jaw. You made a light gagging sound as the head hit the back of your throat, not quite suffocating, but enough to indicate, stop pushing me, and Jungkook lifted the weight off your head, still gripping your hair, messing up your perfected style of the night.

“That’s a good girl, swallowing all that dick,” he purred, sliding a finger into you.

You whined, clenching your walls around it, squeezing tight, wanting more.

“Suck.”

You did, obediently, looking up at Taehyung, his head tipping back, low moans escaping his throat as your tongue squirmed at the base of the head in your throat, muscles clinching around his cock, your lips around the base. You swiped your tongue down, stretching it out even farther, past your lips, slurping nosily at his balls, flicking them rapidly with the tip, feeling him get harder and harder, twitching against the roof of your mouth, bending a little due to the lack of space.

“Fuck, let go of her head, fuck!”

Jungkook released you and you grabbed Taehyung’s hips, starting a fast, intense pace, swirling your tongue around his cock, another long finger wiggling into your slick folds, thrusting into you from behind, your legs shaking with strain, Taehyung moaning louder and louder, filling up your apartment with his lust.

“Don’t fucking stop, fuck, you have the devil’s tongue, a-ah, it’s so fucking good…”

Jungkook scissored his fingers in you, the squelching sound loud and lewd, and you spied Taehyung tipping his head back, panting, watching Jungkook finger you from behind, his other hand smacking your ass periodically to watch it bounce and hear you moan, your hips bucking back into his hand every time you ascended from Taehyung’s cock.

“Give her another,” he gasped. “Stuff her more.”

Jungkook snickered. “For an angel, you’re all about the punishment, hm?”

But he did as he was told, shoving another finger in you and you whined, nearly popping your mouth off Taehyung’s thick length, stopping only because of imposing baritone.

“Don’t you fucking dare. Take it all. Or are you telling me you can’t? Telling me you’ve lost your touch?”

You went back down, narrowing your eyes, rising to his challenge. Your best friend knew everything about you and therefore he knew that the second he made it a question of your ability, well, that brought out the best in you.

“Fuck!”

Also made you almost vacuum his dick, but he asked for it.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuuuuuuuck!”

Tighter, faster, tongue all over, nearly forgetting Jungkook was touching you at all because Taehyung had doubted you and you weren’t having that shit, fuck no, not even with Jungkook’s free hand snaking between your legs and feeling for your clit, rubbing it at the same furious pace you were blowing Taehyung’s jerking cock, tipping your head back and angling it so the head scraped against the roof of your mouth, locking your knees to prevent the shudders of pleasure from ruining your rhythm, so good, fuck, feeling so good with the pumping of Jungkook’s powerful fingers, electric satisfaction radiating from your throbbing clit, clutching Taehyung’s hips so hard he was getting indents from your nails, determined to get him there before you, and, by the sound of his breathless cries of your name and the trembling of his impressive girth, he was there.

“Yes, a-ah, you’re so good, so fucking good, I’m gonna cum, oh, fuck!”

His orgasm exploded, flooding your mouth with a gush of saltness, thick strings of cum painting the back of your throat, and you gulped it all down greedily, eyes rolling back, the tense coil inside you snapping and drenching Jungkook’s hands with your own orgasm, your legs unlocking and giving out, shaking and flinching as wave after wave of vicious pleasure flooded through you, Jungkook’s strong arms holding you up, moaning at the feeling of your pussy convulsing around his fingers, still lightly rubbing your clit through your orgasm, whines and whimpers crammed in your throat due to Taehyung’s cock in your mouth, sliding all the way to the base and swallowing around it, because you knew he loved it, wanted it, craved it, groaning carnally, the head swelling and pulsing, nearly suffocating you.

“Feels so f-fucking good… a-ah, yeees…”

You stayed in the position for as long as you could, a good minute, before backing up with a choked gasp, clutching Taehyung’s thighs, eyes drifting up to his and he looked down at you, fucked-out, content, grateful, black-brown curls falling all over his forehead and cheeks, so casually sexy and perfect.

“Good angels always taste the best,” you rasped, licking your abused lips.

Taehyung grinned.

“Untie me, devil.”

“Damn, you do have a big dick.”

“… Stop looking.”

“Why? I wanna see what she put in her mouth.”

You teased the head with the tip of your tongue, smirking. Taehyung looked away, ears turning red.

“You two are shameless.”

“Yeah, but you like it,” you laughed, straddling his lap, casually leaning over him to untie him. You heard Jungkook make a clicking sound and you assumed he was making a frame with his hands and miming taking a photo.

“Stop that,” Taehyung muttered, face full of your covered breasts. “Oi, take your clothes off if you’re gonna squash my face with your tits.”

You rammed your chest into his face to muffle his protests.

-

“Mmm, yes, no faster way to make me limp than you sucking Jungkook’s face off.”

You were too busy grabbing Jungkook’s naked ass and moaning in his mouth, tongue on tongue, purple strands brushing against your forehand, his hands on your ass and squeezing it roughly, rutting his rapidly hardening cock against your thigh.

“You want me to leave you guys alone?”

You broke the kiss, snapping your head around to see Taehyung raising an eyebrow at you from the head of your bed, completely naked. Jungkook continued slowly humping your thigh, peaking pre-cum all over and adding to his own stimulation.

“Are you done being an insufferable shit or what?” you glowered.

“Mmm, no.”

“Hmph, fine, just fuck me from behind then if you’re so needy,” you sighed, turning back to Jungkook’s amused smirk.

“No. I want the mouth again.”

You and Jungkook shared a confused look. “Huh, why?” you both said at the same time, looking at him in unison.

Taehyung lifted his chin defiantly, pointing to you. “I wanna stuff my dick into your mouth and fuck your face because you tricked me.”

You gasped, feeling slighted. “I told you it was Jungkook’s idea, why am I getting punished? You schemed against me first!”

He shrugged. “You corrupted him so, technically, it’s all inherently your fault.”

You protested as Jungkook laughed, pushing you into position despite you verbally fighting back.

“What! All I did was exist! Is it my fault that Jungkook was thirsting after my ass and you decided it would a taste of my own medicine, only to have it backfire in your face? And what if I wanna look at his handsome face? Huh? Why am I not getting a say in – mhpf!”

You yelped as Jungkook and Taehyung shoved your face first into Taehyung’s crotch, his semi-hard cock smacking you in the cheek and getting a mouthful of his nuts.

“Lick.”

They both said it at the same time. You saw them share a look of surprise, shocked that they were thinking the same thing, ignoring you.

Hey, nobody ignores you.

You wrapped your lips around one of his balls and sucked, tongue surrounding it, causing Taehyung to squeal and spread his legs, his cock swelling instantly, especially as your tongue poked out and lapped at the other while sucking intently.

“Good little devil,” Jungkook praised, patting you on the head before backing up, leaving you to rearrange Taehyung’s nuts with your mouth, licking and sucking all over, him gasping and moaning above you, falling back against the headboard.

“You’re crazy, fucking crazy…”

You switched sides, pressing your lips into his crotch to stuff your mouth full before sticking your tongue out and wiggling it on the underside of the other, his thick length now hitting you in the nose, and you realized Taehyung wasn’t going to help you with this, so you internally sighed and reached up to grab his dick and stroke it slowly as you continued your make-out session with his nuts.

Taehyung was chanting your name over and over like it was a prayer, as if he was saying it in attempt to ask for his soul to be saved.

You felt the bed bow and you lifted your head as far as it could go, which wasn’t very far because you still had one of Taehyung’s balls still in your mouth. You were still sucking on it.

He moaned above you, clutching your pillows for dear life.

You heard a condom being opened and felt Jungkook’s knees spread yours, deep silvery voice purring your name.

“Wanna see you take two dicks at once, naughty devil,” he teased, pressing the head of his cock against your soaked opening.

You unlatched your mouth and Taehyung seemed to see stars for a hot second, reeling.

“Hope you’re prepared, sweet angel,” you taunted, and then you swallowed his dick.

“Fucking shit!”

You moaned around his cock, letting it fill you to the throat, Jungkook’s perfect length thrusting into you at the same time, stretching you out deliciously, his own moan adding to your pleasure. There was just something about Jungkook’s moan, the longing, the possessiveness, the love. It made you wetter every time, bringing newfound energy to your meticulous sucking of Taehyung’s cock, who finally seemed to get his bearings and remember what the fuck was going on and what he wanted to do in the first place, because he finally straightened, large hands fitting around your head, pushing your hair back.

“You know why you’re so good at sucking dick?”

You tried very hard not to roll your eyes, already knowing what was coming. You decided to focus on Jungkook’s cock instead, pumping in and out of you, powerful, deep strokes, his hands gripping your hips, trying so hard to please you, and he was good at it, hitting all your favorite spots that made you squirm back against him.

“Because I let you suck mine,” Taehyung growled, holding your head and thrusting into your throat.

Mmmhmm, you thought to yourself. Not that he was wrong, because he wasn’t, being your first and all, but, come on, you didn’t get all your skills from sucking one dick, no matter how amazing Taehyung’s was. Oh well, you let it slide, simply enjoying not having to do much as your best friend fucked your face and your boyfriend pounded your pussy.

Ah, bliss.

The feeling of your mouth being filled and used, stroking Taehyung’s hips with your fingertips, elbows on the bed, legs spread open for Jungkook to slap his crotch into your ass wetly, back to front, a constant encompassing ecstasy that you welcomed, letting them command the pace, hands on your head and hands on your ass, familiar hands, loving hands, because even if Taehyung didn’t want to take you on dates and wake up next to you every day, he still loved you, still made sure he didn’t actually hurt you, careful to thrust hard but not deep, or thrust deep but not hard.

Jungkook wanted to take you on dates and hold you on his arm like his trophy and be waltzed around as yours, so… romantic? It was your version of romance, anyway.

And sex.

Lots of sex.

Fuck, he was so good at fucking you, leaning down, giving you more, chuckling as he heard you moaning around Taehyung’s cock, faster, harder, yes, fuck, yes, so good, your noises trapped in your chest, Taehyung increasing the speed, breathing shallowing.

“Fuck, yes, tighter, give it to me, you dirty devil,” he growled and you obeyed, closing your lips and pressing your tongue against the bottom, sandwiching his length in your mouth, your pussy also squeezing Jungkook harder, basking in his sinful moan, enamored with his voice and the way he said your name, never getting enough.

“A-ah, you feel so good, your pussy is so fucking good, gonna make me cum…”

So rough, so intense, so full of cock, keeping your holes tight, relishing in the way they forced themselves into your mouth and pussy, heady and intoxicating pleasure, you tipping over the edge, wailing around Taehyung’s thick girth as you spilled onto Jungkook’s rock-hard length, mind-numbing satisfaction that spread all over, hot and melting into you. Your walls violently spasmed and caused Jungkook to gasp, cock twitching and jolting inside you, shooting thick spurts of cum that filled the condom, and he buried himself all the way in, a wanton moan of your name echoing off your bedroom walls, savoring the feeling of you milking him, gripping your sides and squeezing you lovingly.

Suddenly, Taehyung yanked his cock out of your mouth and you coughed, startled at the abrupt loss, only for him to orgasm all over your face, hot white strings shooting out of his glistening cock and his hand guiding them, painting your cheeks and open mouth, dripping onto your tongue and clinging onto your swollen lips.

“Tae! What the fuck?!”

He snickered, smearing the residual cum on the side of your frown, winking.

“Blessed service, eh, you devil?”

-

“Is it gonna be like this every time we hang out now?”

You climbed onto Jeon Jungkook’s lap, kissing him deeper, trapping his slim waist in between your thighs, his hands sliding up your skirt, moaning into your mouth as Kim Taehyung smacked you in the shoulder blades, the sound masked by the obscenely loud music of the club as onlookers watched you and Jungkook with increasing interest.

Probably all dreaming of threesomes with you two.

“Hello, you two are supposed to be helping me getting laid, not getting laid right in front of me!”

--

masterpost

[drakenology]

www.pornscape.com/janitors-closet-kirishima

janitor’s closet - kirishima x reader

categories: cunnilingus, blow job, riding, exhibitionism, slight degradation, unprotected sex, cussing, cervix kissin’, nasty hook up in the janitor’s closet.

author’s note: welcome to the pornscape! i hope you guys enjoy this event and this piece as well. please check out the others who have participated and as always, cum again ;). read the other works here

Hanamura Corp; a place known for legitimate business. Every employee including yourself was very capable of their job and it was wonderful to be a part of. But God was it fucking boring. Everyone there just ignored each other, did their job and clocked out once their shift was done and over with. With the exception of a few women you’d talk to around break time,  The entire building was often so quiet you forgot other people worked there.

One thing that made your job a little bit exciting was the escapades that took place every Wednesday in the janitor’s closet. The janitor who worked mostly Wednesdays was quite possibly the most gorgeous man to walk those halls.

Ejiro Kirishima; a sweetheart who worked as a janitor here at Hanamura Corp for a few years now. What he was doing working as a janitor and as not a male model was a mystery.

He was tall; 6′11 to be exact, with long red hair he often had tied back in a messy bun, strands of his hair cheekily escaping from the sides. Not to mention his body. Eijiro was an absolute beast of a man; his entire body was ripped. His arms were gigantic and covered in tattoos. The women of the facility often gossiped about the ginormous janitor who came by their cubicles with a warm smile and a tip of his cap. 

“God, he’s so sexy. I’d like to just jump his fucking bones.”

“I wonder what he’s like in bed. Probably an insatiable beast.”

“I just know his dick is huge. Fuck, I can only imagine.”

She guessed right. His dick is huge. How do you know that? Because you’re the one fucking him in the Janitor’s closet every so often. Every Wednesday when he worked, he’d walk past your cubicle and tap you on the shoulder. You’d turn and practically drool at the sight of him, knowing that in a few hours you’d be getting railed until you can hardly walk back to your desk. How this became so routine? Hell, you’ve long since forgotten. But who gives a fuck about the details?

“See you at noon?” He’d whisper in your ear, chuckling when you nod meekly. 12 o’clock was the time everyone usually took their lunch break which had proven to be the perfect time to get fucked on the job.

Once the clock struck 12, you slide your panties off under your desk and tuck them in your briefcase, a rule set by Kirishima to ensure that your cunt is exposed and ready for his filling. You walk towards the janitor’s closet; the one next to the women’s room and stand there to wait, awkwardly waving at the women who came out of the restroom with a weird stare. Suddenly the door opens and someone pulls you inside. 

Finally. He kissed you hard, his big stern hands grabbing and caressing your ass as if he owned you and everything attached to you. You moan into his mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist when he lifts you and pins you against the cold steel supply shelf. “Miss me, gorgeous?” Kirishima asks, his lips ghosting over yours as he hikes your skirt up over your ass, biting his lip when he feels you’re completely bare underneath. 

“You’re such a little slut for me, taking your panties off to come and get fucked in the janitor’s closet.” He starts kissing your neck, nibbling slightly to mark you just a little; he can’t help himself. 

You’re already getting so hot, your slick pooling at his fingertips as they run along your folds. He stands you on your feet and turns you around, getting down on his knees to worship your ass. His hands slap each cheek firmly, causing you to flinch and lean into the wall, ass sticking out for him. 

Before you can speak, his hands spread your ass apart, spitting onto your pussy. His tongue starts lapping up your slick folds as his hands squeeze your ass, your nails digging into your palms as you groan into your sleeves. You’re mewling so much you could swear someone could hear you, Kirishima’s thick fingers now sliding inside you while he stands on his feet. 

“Gotta get that tight cunt ready for me, baby. You like that?” He huffs into your hair, pumping his fingers inside you at a slow pace. You nod as you back your hips into his hand, Kirishima grabbing one hip to keep you still. 

“So eager. Stay still would, ya?” Kirishima taunts, speeding up his fingers as he smacked you ass to scold you. You yelp, the sting from the hit fading into blinding pleasure as he fingered you, your cunt squelching and making obscene  noises as you feel your legs turn to pudding. 

“Kiri I c-can’t, you’re gonna make me c-cum!” You whine, chewing on your bottom lip. 

“That’s the idea. Mm, cum all over my fucking fingers.” He urged, his fingers diving deeper into your greedy walls, your cunt sucking him inside as you cum with a hard clench. Kirishima smirked and pulled his fingers out of you, sticking them into his mouth with a moan at your flavor.��

“Good fuckin’ girl. On your knees.” He demands, pointing towards the floor. You obliged, moaning when you see him take his cock out of his uniform pants. Good lord, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to seeing it in all its glory.

He was impossibly thick and long, prominent veins running along the shaft and a perfectly soft and spongey head; the one that kissed your cervix with every thrust. You open your mouth for him, tongue lolling out as he sticks his cock inside. Your lips wrap around him, moaning at the taste of his skin as you bob your head. Kirishima takes a fistful of your hair and fucks your throat, hissing when you gag and drool all over his cock. Your hands start grabbing at your breasts, unbuttoning your top to pull them outside of your bra. 

“God, look at you..” Kirishima groans, you giggling when he pulls you off his cock with a lewd “pop” sound. “Such a dirty girl.” Kirishima takes his thick cock and slaps it against your wet lips, pressing between them to get your mouth open again. Sucking him off got you so wet; the sounds of slurping and gagging. All of his dirty words laced with pleasurable grunts stirred your insides as your cunt ached with need.

Every time his cock hit the back of your throat you moan, reaching your hand down to help relieve the ache in your core. 

“Shit..” Eijiro moans at the state of you, a usually prim and proper business woman on her knees for him looking so fucking sloppy. 

It was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, taking his hand to pinch and play with your nipples as you suckle on his dick head, taking it and slapping it against your tongue with a love struck look in your eye.

He burned that image of you in his mind, wanting to revisit this moment later when he was alone while bucking his hips to get you to wrap those soft lips around his cock again. Your fingers rub lazy circles on your swollen clit, moaning around his dick as he fucked your mouth. 

“So fucking sexy, baby.” He hissed, pulling his cock from your lips and sitting on his haunches. 

“C’mere.” He demands, slapping his thighs to get you to sit in his lap. You straddle his waist, his length resting on your slick cunt. He grinds your hips against his, the under side of his cock rubbing against your swollen clit with a groan. Kirishima lowers his hand and gives you the filling you’ve been craving all week, pressing his length against your weeping hole and pulling your hips down onto his length. 

The dull stretch caused you to grab onto his shoulders and hold tight, bouncing on his cock slowly to adjust to his monster of a cock. It was all so delicious; Kiri running his thumb along your swollen bud with a satisfied grunt. 

“Fuck, I’m cumming already, Eiji- shit!” You wail, breathy moans leaving your lips as he ruts his hips upwards, one of his big hands grabbing at your breast, the other rubbing your clit in soft circles. 

“Fuckin’ hell, baby..” He groans, rolling your hips into his as his hands run along your soft ass, striking it harshly. You’re drooling into his shoulder, holding onto the shelf that contained cleaning supplies for good measure, trying to keep up with his movements. With all the shaking, all the cleaning products started toppling over, loud clangs of the metal shelf echoing through the small closet to mask your loud moans. 

You both let out breathy half giggles, melting into each other’s bodies as Kirishima reached up to wrap your hair around his hand to yank it, attacking your now exposed neck with hot kisses and nibbles. He stands on his feet, fingers pressed into your ass to keep a tight grip on you as he lowered you onto his cock. You see stars as Eijiro picks you up and drops you onto his thick cock, scrambled sentences leaving your mouth as your mouth hangs open in bliss.

Kirishima kicks over a bucket, the stupid thing in his path as he pressed your bare back against the cold concrete wall. He rolls his hip into yours, lips wrapped around one of your nipples, nibbling lightly. Grunting and high pitched whines fill the closet, your bodies practically sticking together from the heat you both omitted. Tongues intertwined with each other, hands traveling along naked skin as he hit your g-spot over and over again in a blind rage. 

“F-Fuck! I’m gonna cum for you, baby.” you squeal, toes curling so hard you feel a cramp coming on; Kirishima bucking into with more fervor as you both reach a climax. 

“’M gonna cum inside you. Gonna make you my fuckin’ cum dump.” He huffed, your eyes rolling to the back of your head with every hit against your cervix. 

You both grunt; Kirishima painting your insides white as he rests you both onto the floor, grinding his hips a few more times before pulling out his flaccid form. Your back laid flat on the cold floor, looking up at him with clouded eyes from all the tears you shed from your encounter. Sex with Kirishima made working at this stuffy place so much more worth it. As he looked down at you he helped fix your clothes, the timer on his watch beeping to signal it was time to get back to work. 

“Ya know, we don’t have to wait to see each other once a week. I could fuck you like this every day, every night...” Eijiro said, wiping the sweat from your brow. 

“Are you asking me out?” You tease, sitting up to button up your shirt.

“Depends.. are you saying yes?” He asks, raising his eyebrow as he adjusts his pants.

“Maybe.”

[slytherinwh0re]

Silent treatment

Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT (this is filthy lol), swearing, a lil fluff at the end (18+ minors dni)

Summary: Where you’re angry with Draco so you give him the silent treatment. 

Masterlist

A/N: thank you so much for 500 followers

You’re bored, the most bored you’d ever been perhaps. You’ve been sitting in the library with Draco for hours, waiting for him to finish up his essay. Finally you got so bored you started mindlessly chatting with him even though he’d barely respond.

“So what color do you think I should get?” You ask your boyfriend while picking at your chipped nail polish.

“I think that if you’d just shut up I’d already be done with this potions essay.”

Ouch. He didn’t even look up from the parchment paper.

“Sorry for inconveniencing with you with my presence, I won’t be bothering you anymore.” You say as you gather your stuff and storm out the library, your feelings hurt. How dare he speak to you like that.

Most the time he’s a sweetheart with you but he is Draco Malfoy and he can still be a downright asshole. So if he wants you to shut up, that’s exactly what he’ll get. You know that giving him the silent treatment is a bit childish but you really are hurt by his mean words, a little revenge will surely make you feel better.

The next morning when you walk into the great hall for breakfast Draco’s already waiting for you at the entrance. He smiles at you, waiting for his kiss but you just look at him and walk right past, not saying a word. You find a seat by Pansy and Blaise, Draco having followed you takes the seat next to yours.

“Is everything alright darling?” He whispers in your ear. You act as if you hadn’t heard a thing, continuing the conversation with your two friends. The rest of breakfast was spent the same way, you blatantly ignoring him as he tried to get your attention.

You didn’t even glance at him before grabbing your bag and heading to your first lesson. The fact that he doesn’t know why you’re upset makes you even angrier. You had almost every class with Draco but were determined to keep your silence.

Easier said than done. The boy is infuriatingly persistent. The first half of the day he spent following you around begging you to tell him why you wouldn’t speak to him, even apologizing for the unknown reason of your silence. Once he realized you weren’t going to tell him he switched tactics, deciding that the best way to get you to talk to him was by annoying the living shit out of you. It almost worked. He kept tugging on your hair or pinching your side, trying his hardest to get any kind of sound out of you. He even tried taking your books from you but he gave them back as quickly as he took them once you kicked him in the shin.

“Come on (y/n), I’d rather you scream at me, this is bloody ridiculous.” You’re boyfriend was beyond frustrated at this point, you made it through all your classes without uttering a single word to him. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss joking around with him but you’d be damned if you let him get away with speaking to you the way he had. So you just continue to stare at him with a tiny smirk on your face, loving the way Draco was turning red with anger. He’s sexy when he’s angry.

The boy wasn’t used to being ignored and he sure as hell did not like it. The frustration from the lack of attention clear on his face. You knew you were being a bit dramatic for dragging it out this long but you are dating Draco, the king of being over dramatic, you had to get on his level for it to really get under his skin.

Next thing you know he’s carrying you over his shoulder straight to his room, his hand resting on your ass. Once inside he had you pressed on the door with his face an inch away from yours, his arms on either side of your head had you trapped. You hadn’t been this close to him all day, you could smell the familiar aroma of his cologne and mint toothpaste.

“If you aren’t going to speak on your own terms I’m just gonna have to make you my darling.” One of his hands grabbed the end of your hair, yanking your head back, giving himself full access to your neck. His lips feel like velvet on your skin, you have to bite your lip to keep any noises from slipping out.

Draco continues the assault on your neck, the hand he had in your hair makes it’s way under the sweater you’re wearing, long pale fingers tracing the smooth skin of your stomach. Everywhere he touches he leaves a trail of goosebumps. His fingers find their way under your thin bralette, thumb brushing against each nipple for only a second before he’s removing his hand. Your will to stay quite disappearing more and more by the second.

He pulls away from your neck, resting his forehead against yours, pulling your body flush against his so your back is no longer on the door. His grey eyes burn into you and without warning his hand smacks your ass, hard. Draco lifts the skirt and starts massaging your supple skin, you move your head so it rests in the crook of his neck, the moans threaten to escape your lips but you grasp onto every fiber of self control you have.

“You held on longer than I though you would (y/n),” He lips are right by your ear “but your body will always betray you my darling, you can’t deny me.” Hes right and you know it.

“I’ve barley even touched you and you’re already soaking straight trough your panties.” You can feel the smirk on his face, his fingers running over your clothed pussy. You bring your hands up to his shoulders so you can steady yourself as he moves your underwear to the side, his long finger stroking your slick folds.

“Draco!” It comes out a little raspy from the lack of using your voice but you just can’t hold it in anymore, the boy is driving you crazy. As soon as his name leaves your mouth he has his other hand around your throat, pushing your head against the door.

“There’s that pretty voice I’ve been wanting to hear all day.” His fingers that were now slick with arousal push into you and your eyes screw shut out of pleasure. The moans that leave your mouth couldn’t be stopped.

The hand around your throat tightens and his finger move in and out of you quickly while his thumb brushes against your clit. The knot in your stomach starts to grow and you know you aren’t gonna last much longer.

“I’m gonna cum Draco!” You barely get it out before you feel his fingers curl into that spot that makes you scream.

“Look at me.” You open your eyes to look at the blonde. “When you cum I want you to scream my name.” He smirks, loving the way you’re falling apart from just his fingers.

One more swipe of his thumb on your clit and you’re doing exactly as you’re told. His name slipping from your mouth as your orgasm takes over your body.

Once you’ve calmed down you watch as he slips his fingers in his mouth, licking them clean. Draco then unbuckles his pants letting them fall to the floor along with his boxers. His hand strokes his dick while he looks at you, his eyes dark with lust.

“Take off your panties and turn around.” You don’t need to be told twice. As soon as you turn around he pushes your face against the door and flips your skirt over your ass, landing a hard smack.

“You wanna act like a fucking brat all day, you’re gonna get treated like one. Beg.” Another smack, this one makes you moan embarrassingly loud.

“Draco please! I need you!” The sting turns you on even more.

“What do you need (y/n).” His hand continuesly landing on your ass.

“I need you to fuck me, please Draco. Please fuck me baby!” You feel his tip at your entrance and then he’s slamming into you. His hands hold your hips to keep you still as he fucks you into the door.

The self control you once had is now thrown out the window as Draco’s name leaves your mouth repeatedly. He slides almost all the way out before pushing back into you.

Just as you find yourself teetering over the edge yet again he slides out of you, a whine of frustration slipping out. He turns you around and in one swift motion yanks both your sweater and bra over your head, your skirt following right behind, his shirt also discarded on the floor, leaving both of you naked in front of each other.

“Get on the bed.” The demanding tone of his voice makes you rub your thighs together before you make your way over to his bed, laying right in the center. Draco climbs on top of you, bringing both your legs to rest on his shoulders before he’s pushing himself back in, the new angle making him feel impossibly deeper than before.

He keeps a steady pace, lowering his head to kiss you for the first time today. Your lips meeting in a desperate kiss, your hands in his hair make him groan into you. You move your hands down his back, loving the way his muscles feel under your fingers. He pulls back to look at you, that smirk you love so much back on his face.

“You looks so sexy when you’re angry, I’ve wanted to fuck the words out of you all day darling.” Immediately his lips are back on yours, the anger you both felt today being poured into the heated kiss.

“Draco!” You moan as you pull away, the familiar knot in your stomach returning.

“Not yet (y/n).” His hips keep up the torturous pace and you don’t know how much longer you can hold it, you feel his him start to falter and you know he’s close as well.

“Now love. Cum for me.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, your back arches off the bed and you’re seeing stars, screaming his name yet again. You feel his dick twich as you clamp around him, his low moans make your head feel dizzy.

Once you’re both cleaned up Draco pulls you back to the bed, laying down so you’re facing each other, his hand pushing back a piece of stray hair.

“Tell me why you’re mad at me darling.” He speaks so softly you barely hear him.

“You told me to shut up yesterday in the library when I asked you what color I should paint my nails, it hurt my feelings.” A look of realization washes over Draco’s face, he brings one of your hands up to his lips leaving a kiss on the back of it while intertwining them.

“I’m sorry my love, forgive me? Today made me realize my day is terribly boring if I don’t have you to talk to.”

“It’s okay Draco, I forgive you, but don’t do it again cause now I know the silent treatment works.” You tease him, a small smile forming on his lips.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He brings your hand up again inspecting your fingers.

“Paint them green.”

“Green it is.”

[kashimos-hajime]

interlude | l.a.

summary: levi pulls you away from some rich-ass party for far more interesting activities. you’re just too goddamn pretty for him.

WARNINGS: smut!!! (18+), handjobs, oral (m-receiving), sub!levi, big pouty boy, ok hes just like really sexually pent up and this is how hes going through it, hints of jealousy, teasing, swearing, closet sex, established relationship, but also fluff :), levi is a bratty mf pairing: levi ackerman x survey corps fem!reader word count: 2.3k

a/n: written just bc i felt like it! enjoy my subby needy take on levi in honour of levi coming back all sexy this coming sunday ndklsnf LMAO enjoy!!

crossposted on ao3 x

His fingers are insistent, wrapped tight around your wrist as he pulls you through the empty corridors of the Mitras palace, and you glance back at the party they’ve left abruptly. Erwin will surely be missing their absence, even in the crowd of superiors he’s surrounded by and you frown. Jerking your long Scout jacket tighter across yourself, you glance out at the sunset painting the sky a rusty orange, before glancing back at the Captain, mouth dropping open in protest.

“Levi, what—”

With a sharp tug, you’re pulled into darkness, out of nowhere, and you let out a yelp before hands find your waist and desperate, seeking lips press tightly against your own. A small, strong body is flush against yours as the door clicks shut under your back, and you sag into hands that are flat against the wood underneath your shoulders as your arms drape over a sloping frame, eyebrows furrowing, returning the kiss just as fiercely.

A needy sound pries out of Levi’s mouth as he bites on your lower lip before moving away, leaving open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, across your chin, down your neck and your head tilts back, your breath coming out in punched gasps as his hips jerk against your own.

“L-Levi?” His name comes out choked and his head pulls back. In the darkness, you can’t even make out the blueness of his eyes but you know they burn you—you can feel them on your mouth all the same. And then, his head tilts forward, brow against your collarbones and your hand lifts from his shoulders, finding the knob and twisting the lock with a quick flip of your fingers. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he grumbles. “I just needed to feel you.”

“Here?” you prompt as his ragged breaths push against your shirt. Your other hand rakes lazily through his hair and he arches into you, nails scraping into the wooden door as your fingers scratch at his scalp. “What—”

“You’re pretty. Too pretty,” he grits out. “Stop it.”

Unamused: “Stop being pretty?”

“Stop teasing me.”

A delighted current runs through your heart at his order and you smirk. Now that your heart is racing, and you’re all alone in a tight room with just him, you can smell his intent all over him, radiating like a frustrated animal. 

Leaning down until your lips brush the shell of his ear, you feel his shiver as you whisper gently, “I’m not doing anything, sweetheart.”

“F-fuck—“ His voice comes out shaking, and he hunches over, jaw clenched. “Never see you like this. All political, charming the brass. It shouldn’t work. Nothing should work.” Your hand falls away from his hair and you run your hands down his tense, lithe body, smiling to yourself as he continues to grumble, “But every single fucking time, you just have to be there. Smiling sunshine piece of shit—”

“You talk too much, Captain,” you whisper, your fingers finding his belt buckle of his own formal jacket and pulling it undone easily. The jacket falls in a pile around his legs and feet shift against stone as you continue onto the buckle of his pants, tugging his tucked shirt free. “You’re wound up.”

“You knew what you were doing,” he continues accusingly, his head still against your chest bone and you smile, craning your neck to kiss the side of his head. He lets out a growl.

“You just thought the premiere’s son looked at me funny.”

“He did.”

“Tch, Levi,” you sing, slowly unwinding leather from loops, “green has always been a pretty colour on you. If this whole act continues, I might just lead him on to see what gets a rile out of you.”

He scoffs, hard and hot against your collarbone. “Manipulator.“

“Bastard,” you quip, grinning. “We match.” Fingers curling over the waistband of his pants, you push them down before cupping his head and lifting a soft face towards your own. “Hey, there.”

You feel the flush searing his cheeks, and you know without the light that his eyes are blown out and hazy, lip caught between teeth as he tries to restrain the wanton desire burning through his system. You understand. It’s exactly the same way you feel whenever you’re remotely in the same room as him and there isn’t enough space to contain their impulses without everything exploding.

Tilting his chin, you kiss him softly, warmly, gently, and his fingers find your wrists, wrapping around them insistently, tight enough to bruise. You smile when his nose nudges against your cheek, lips still seeking more. Indulging him for only half a second, you tilt his head up, feeling his mouth fall open as nails dig into your wrists, a warning and an ask.

Drawing back just enough to breathe but not enough that their lips ever part, your words push into his mouth in a heady sigh.

“We have to be quiet, alright, Captain?” You smile crookedly as he nods, the fringe of his hair brushing along the line of your nose and fluttering over your eyelids. “Good. Now, relax…” Sinking to your knees, your hands find lean, burning thighs and you huff to yourself, trailing a finger up to the apex of his leg and you find the knob of his hip bones before anything.

You know exactly what’s staring at you in the face. You just refuse to acknowledge it.

Travelling inward, you trace his V-line until the heat of his blood is so hot it’s near unbearable and when your hand merely brushes against his cock, his body collapses forward, hips jutting with a sharp, tight groan. Above you, you hear an elbow collide with the door and by the way he doesn’t move back, you know he’s leaning heavily on his arms.

Fingers delicately finding the base, your digits dance up his length, smirking at the tiny noises you pry out of him with your teasing, and a hand shoots down to your head but he still doesn’t move you as your thumb presses against the tip, finding precum already leaking down his cock.

“I’ve barely touched you,” you note, wrapping your fingers around him and rubbing your thumb all over the head. A short, choked noise rips out of Levi and you smile, reaching blindly for his other clothes and stuffing them under your knees. Leaning in close, your breath puffs against your hand and him as you slowly let go. “How long have you been hiding this?”

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he replies dryly through gritted teeth and you chuckle, spitting into your palm. It drips down your fingers and you grab Levi’s thigh with your clean hand before shifting yourself closer. “God, if you’re not going to—“

Whatever the rest of his sentence was going to be fades away when you wrap a hand around his cock and slide it down to his base, excruciatingly slow. His hips jerk forward, sending his dick the rest of the way through the tight fist you have on him and you laugh, kissing the tip teasingly.

“What? Does that feel good or something?”

“You fucking know—ngh—fuck, yes.” His hand tightens in your hair as you pump your hand, grip tight yet not enough. Your thumb runs along the underside, rubbing over the weeping slit before tracing back down again and the rest of your fingers squeeze, teasing the shit out of him, smearing precum all over his dick.

Your hand on his thigh reaches up, sneaking underneath his shirt to hook on his hip bone and you spread your fingers, feeling the tightness in his abdomen as you continue to jerk him off, kissing the tip with a silly grin every few seconds.

Your name comes out stuttered, torn from Levi’s throat, and you don’t have to remind him to be quiet because those sinful noises he’s so desperately trying to chain back only serve to inspire you, to slow you down, speed you up, tease him until his grip on you is blistering.

It’s funny. Captain Levi Ackerman of the Scouts, Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, and he’s malleable when you put a hand on his cock and a mouth at the tip.

Captain Levi Ackerman, and he’s moaning your name.

It’s a thought that makes you smirk as you squeeze the head, your thumb rubbing teasingly over the slit again and his hips jerk forward so violently you think he might lose his footing but he doesn’t. 

Captain Levi never slips.

He does, however, have a mouth on him. Something you intend to make full use of.

“Fuck you,” he spits.

“Later,” you promise. “For now…” His abdomen clenches at your words and you smile, tilting your chin to kiss the underside of his cock and resuming the leisurely place of your strokes. His groans bounce off the walls, sharp gasps, raw noises that make your thighs clench together as you lean to kiss his hip bone, around his base, all the while fucking him into delirium with just a single hand.

You try to guess how long he’ll last. Another part of you wonders if anyone’s made the connection between your disappearance and the Captain’s. 

That thought, that idea, that some noble with a stick up their ass could have a remote idea what you’re doing with the esteemed Captain, sends a wicked flare through you. Your wrist twists, squeezing nearly painfully hard and Levi’s hips roll forward, a guttural moan spilling out of his mouth.

“Shit. Shit, don’t stop,” he whispers. “Harder. H-harder—”

“Harder?” you echo innocently, your fingers tightening and you feel his abdomen go rigid underneath your fingers even more if possible. “Harder, Captain?”

“Ngh—fuck. Harder.” His voice is a broken rasp as you speed up and his breath quickens. Wrist burning, you pump him through your fist and you feel it the moment he reaches the precipice. The way his cock twitches, the way his voice pitches just enough that you know he’s about to lose it, and you shift on your aching knees as your hand trails down his hips again, finds the back of his thigh, and you feel his leg quivering. “I’m close. Close—shit, I’m— you— Where? Just—just tell me where.”

“Don’t worry, Levi. Just let go for me, love,” you whisper, so quietly, you’re not even sure he can hear you before you take him into your mouth and it’s only one more thrust against your tongue curling against the underside of his dick before he’s cumming into you, a fist slamming against the door above you. Jaw opening up wider, you take him in deeper, hands grabbing at his legs and tugging him closer as his fingers on your head hold him up and hold you still.

The broken litanies of your name are the only sound, only breathed through his ragged gasps and you breathe in deeply through your nose, swallowing him deeper into your throat as he thrusts forward, the waves still crashing over him. You don’t mind, using your tongue to coax the last few threads of pleasure through his body and sucking him off.

It’s only when the hand on your head relaxes does he finally pull out of your mouth and a strand of spit and cum links your lips to his dick, only broken when he falls to his knees in front of you. His bare knees against your clothed ones, you only have to hold out your arms before an exhausted body is pressed against your own, a head nuzzled into the curve of your neck while you trace the curve of his spine, your hands sneaking under his shirt to explore a muscled back.

“Levi,” you hum, amused, and your only reply is the shift of his head against you, the way his breaths puff against your jaw, and your hunger only grows at the idea of his fucked out face, the blush no doubt flooding his cheeks with red, his eyes—eyes that can’t focus on anything. Hazy, blurry, blissed. “Levi, sweetheart.”

“F-fuck you,” you hear his coarse mumble, and you smile, lifting a hand to thread fingers through his hair before tilting your head and slotting your mouth against his. The edge of his jaw pokes against the fleshy part of your thumb, and he grabs the back of your neck, deepening the kiss immediately. Tongue dipping into your mouth, you wonder if he tastes you just as much as you can taste him still. Sighing, your body melts against him and your stomach cramps when he pulls back, thumb rubbing roughly at your chin. “You’re going to pay for that.”

“You’re the one who dragged me in here,” you point out. “But if you want me to pay, Captain, I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”

“Don’t give me any ideas.” He pulls back, and you hold back another smile, looking down at the floor as he grabs his pants haphazardly, the belt clinking against stone. Lifting your knees and sitting back, you pick up his formal jacket, flapping the wrinkles out as best as you can while he buckles back up, but it’s no use.

In the light, it’s going to be a mess of creases and implications.

“I think we have to go home early,” you tell him, looking where you think his face is. He looms over you now that he’s standing and you’re crashed against the door, and you hand him the jacket which he takes but doesn’t pull out of your grasp. Fingers brushing along your knuckles, he leans down and places a gentle kiss against your brow. “Sorry.”

“Oh, I’ll accept your apology,” he murmurs, tilting his head to whisper his soft lips over your temple. A delighted shiver shoots down your spine and as he trails a finger down your cheek, over your swollen, used lips, you hear his deadly smirk laced with promise in his tone. “If you can’t tell, I’m positively devastated.”

[littlemisslipbalm]

“harry’s stylist, right?” part II

Harry and his stylist go from colleagues to friends to lovers because they’ve been in love with each other from the jump

this gif bc i couldn’t fine the fit i wanted to showcase, but that night him and y/n get closer than they had gotten before :))

and we’re back :) - this is the last part of this i may do some little blurbs and stuff about these two if people want it (maybe) i hope you all enjoy this part, it’s not proofread so sorry about that lol. Feedback and reblogs are so very very appreciated, also feel free to message me about you’re feelings about this

Word Count: just over 10k | Warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, implication of smut, i think that’s it

part 1

-

After the call with Jeff, which wasn’t really a conversation at all, moreso a berating from him, she was in the worst mood. She shrugged off the Bode jacket and hung it up in her entryway closet. She wasn’t planning on wearing it ever again. Without the jacket on, her shirt that seemed to be exactly on the nose with it’s “we’re in the shit” graphic was clear and she untucked it from her light mint pants. She was exhausted, both physically and mentally. Instead of picking her phone up again, she decided she could do without communication for a while. Her feet padded to her bedroom, after removing her nikes and socks. In her bedroom she opened up her record player, wanting music, but not wanting to be bothered with her laptop since it had a connection to the internet. 

She grabbed her Electric Warrior by T. Rex and slipped out the first record from its sheath. As she set up the music, she couldn’t remember where she’d even gotten the record but for some reason it had called to. She skipped over Mambo Sun, the first track, though, and had it play Cosmic Dancer first. It was calming to her, she swayed a bit to the soothing beat and then climbed into her bed. Staring at the ceiling, she wondered about when her life had gotten so complicated. The rhythm in the music and the exhausting thought material lulled her to sleep as the afternoon sun washed her room a perfect golden from behind her shade.

When she woke up again, it was midnight and she was starving. The record had stopped spinning hours ago, she hadn’t even gotten through side A. It was forgotten as she made her way to her kitchen, groggily.

After settling on cereal and an alcoholic seltzer for dinner, she was really in the mood to treat herself, she made her way back to her living space. On the couch, she tucked her legs beneath herself and spooned the sugary food into her mouth. She had only soy milk in the place because she didn’t like cow’s milk and it didn’t keep when she was gone for extended periods of time. Then as she sipped from the black cherry White Claw, she dug her hand into the cushion next to her. Her hand reemerged with her discarded phone from earlier. She decided it was reasonable to go on it now.

More messages from various people in her life and hundreds of social media notifications. She was going to ignore social media for as long as she possibly could. Four missed calls. 2 voicemails. Styles Harry. Why she kept contacts backwards in her phone was unimportant, it’s just what she did.  

She sighed and took a bigger sip of the barely alcoholic drink. Then clicked the voicemail notifications and pressed the first one on speaker as she began to read his texts as well. Then the next voicemail. She checked the time in California, it was still a reasonable part of the day there so instead of texting back she rang him.

“Hello?”

“Har- H. Hi.”

“Y/N! Are you alright?” The concern apparent in his tone. She was taken aback. He hadn’t necessarily sounded angry in his texts or voicemails, but she just assumed he was being courteous since it was a live conversation.

“You’re not mad at me?”

“No! Why would I be?”

“Because I just had my ass handed to me by Jeff earlier.” She slightly mumbled and shrugged, still upset with how she had been spoken to by Jeff.

“Oh gosh, I told him not to be harsh. It’s honestly not a big deal. I thought it was fine, you texted me too!”

“Yeah, well apparently wearing your clothes means we’re dating and that’s not cool in the world’s eyes,” you scoff.

“I know how much you like that coat...I thought you looked great in it, too.” He finishes in a slight whisper, not wanting to be overheard.

“Harry…” you can’t keep the smile off your face. It was a cute compliment even if the situation wasn’t ideal. “Why do your fans have to be so smart and know there’s only two of those coats in the world and I don’t own the other one.”

He laughs, blushing at how you said his name. This time not using his nickname didn’t bother him, it felt even more intimate somehow.

He rubs a hand through his hair, “I know, pesky little devils, gotta love’em, though”

She hums, not sure if she can agree about loving them right now since they’re probably eating her alive all over social media.

“So you’re alright, darling?” He asks again.

“Mhmm,” she pauses at the pet name, it was soothing right now. All she wanted was to curl into his chest, but he was half a world away, quite literally. His words would have to do in his absence. “I’m really glad you’re not mad at me, H. That would’ve made this a hundred times worse.”

He huffs, wishing he could be with her to comfort her. He hated this part of his life. A friend couldn’t borrow a piece of his clothing without everyone assuming that they were seeing each other. It was disgusting and it made him dislike tabloids and social media even more than he already did.

“Trust me. I’d never be mad at you, pet. And I’d definitely never be mad at you for looking good as fuck in my clothes.”

“Shut up!” She squeals, his tone turning from earnest to teasing in one breath. He cackles on the other end of the line because despite her mean words, he could hear the smile on her lips.

“When are you flying back to London?” Her voice grows quiet again after she takes another sip of her drink.

“Thursday,” he almost whispers back, having contained his mirth again.

“We have some work to do on your Graham Norton and Jingle Bell Ball outfits. The listening party ones are all picked up -”

“Y/N,” Harry cuts her off, “It’s late for you, go to bed. Try not to stress out too much, we’ll talk when I’m back about work. For now, take a few days off to not think about my clothes.”

She sighs, “Thanks, H. You’re right. Have a good rest of your day.”

“Goodnight, m’love.”

She ends the phone call and chalks the almost ‘my’ sounding syllable that she heard before love was just her tired mind and Harry’s mumbling voice. It most certainly wasn’t.

-

After a restful few days of doing absolutely nothing, something rare for Y/N, she was extremely well rested. So much so that she was peacefully asleep when Harry let himself into her flat since they had agreed to meet at her place when he got back to London. As much as he wanted her to take time off and not over work herself, his schedule was a busy one and now that he was back, they had work to do.

Inside her flat, he was greeted with silence. He made his way to her bedroom at the back of the flat. He’d been here a handful of times. She always told him she preferred to spread out when she worked and Harry’s was the place for that. The door to the bedroom was slightly ajar and he pushed it open slowly with his ring clad hand. His black nails are freshly painted and shiny, no chips. Still in her bed, Y/N shifted around softly. He smiled to himself, taking in how the room smelled over lavender and how she had pink floral sheets. He walked to the window and raised the shade, hoping to have her wake up without and coaxing from him.

“H,” her voice mumbles into her pillow and he thinks she’s woken up. His face turns to look at her, but her eyes are still closed and she looks completely asleep. He wonders if she’s trying to trick him, but then she mumbles again.

“Mhhh, tha’ tickles,” and she giggles. He kind of grimaces, feeling like he shouldn’t be hearing this. He hadn’t known she spoke in her sleep, it was sweet, but with the context right now, he thought him having this knowledge might not sit well with her.

“Y/N,” he says loudly, before clearing his throat. Her eyes shoot wide and she sits up, dropping the sheet she had been snuggling.

“Harry! Oh my god!”

“Meeting, remember?”

“Oh my god,” she glances around her surroundings, Harry still standing at her window. “What time is it?”

“1 pm. We said 1 right?”

“We did, I just...I don’t know what happened. Sorry, give me a second. I’m out of it.”

When she emerged from her room, dressed and ready for the day, Harry had brewed a pot of coffee with her machine that she really only had for guests.

“Sorry again,” she sits at her countertop, searching for her notebook in her bag.

“No worries,” then he leans across the countertop, “Seemed like you were in the middle of a nice dream.”

His brows are raised as she avoids his gaze. She flushes easily, “I- it was...just one of those usual dreams.”

“You have dreams about me often?”

“I didn’t say that!” Her eyes shoot up to meet his and he grins. He takes a sip of his coffee before speaking again.

“I heard you say ‘H’.”

She rolls her eyes, “That proves nothing.”

They both stare at each other for a minute, not talking or moving. Harry is simply grinning at her as she twitches her hand with her pen in it now. Her eyes are trying to figure out what Harry’s getting at, searching his expression for how he feels about knowing she dreams of him. She certainly wasn’t going to get into it with him, even if he did continue prodding.

“Alright,” she begins when he doesn’t seem to want to press it further. “Oh!” She jumps up, dropping her pen and forgetting about whatever else she was going to say. “Your jacket! And shirt! I cleaned the shirt and the jacket…” She runs out of the room to go to her front closet where she had hung up both the jacket and the shirt.

Returning, she holds them out to Harry and he rounds the countertop to look at them.

“Perfect shape,” he admires the spotless shirt and his beloved jacket. He puts them on the back of the chair that was next to them. “Won’t forget my jacket again.”

She smiles sheepishly, thinking back to Jeff’s conversation with her. Harry notices her change in demeanor and takes one of her hands. Her eyes flash up to his face and her body tenses, he feels it even in her hand.

“Have you gone on any social media since you’ve been home?” His eyes are wide as he runs his thumb over the back of her hand.

She softens slightly, “Oh yeah, after the first day I decided to check. Most were funny and sweet, their nasty comments didn't get to me.”

Her eyes are big on her face and Harry watches as her worries and concerns all wash through the swirling colors in them. He wants to take all of that pain away and just stare into her abyss forever.

“What did Jeff say exactly?” He knows that’s what she’s alluding to. Harry loved his manager, but when he had called him about the jacket incident he had been pretty short with Harry and hadn’t given much information on his chat with Y/N. The way she looked right now bothered him because ultimately Harry was in charge of Y/N in his employment of her and if Jeff had acted like her superior in a way that was harmful he’d be downright upset.

Her eyes grow glassy immediately and Harry’s anger begins to bubble in the pit of his stomach. She tries to blink anything away, but fails.

“I don’t know why I’m crying, it wasn’t terrible. It’s just, all my life, I’ve had to work to be taken seriously because of who I am and I hate when I get talked down to by a man. Especially over a stupid fucking publicity thing for you. Like I’m sorry, but I don’t see you as a public figure where I have to worry about every goddamn thing I do messing up your image.” She pauses, taking a deep breath, realizing she’d gotten really worked up as she spoke. The tears running down her face more in anger than sadness. Harry watches on, letting her work through her thought process. “He was just so mean… for what?” She whispers finally.

“Oh god…darling,” Harry grips her hand more firmly. He wants to take her in his arms, but he’s not sure if that’s what’s best for her right now, so he just keeps holding her hand. She stares up at him, blowing a piece of hair out of her face. Her eyes now tinted a light red.

“I’m sorry he spoke to you in that way. That isn’t his job at all, I’ll definitely talk to him since I didn’t have the full story before. He gets very worried about the media perception thing, especially right now with the album.”  

She bites the inside of her cheek, blinking up at Harry. “I know your image is important, too, otherwise why the fuck would I be here? Right? I just don’t think it’s that big of a deal I borrowed the jacket.”

“In a perfect world my image wouldn’t matter at all,” Harry sighed, “Fame is a stupid, fickle thing musicians like me get stuck with.”

“Please, you love the attention,” she teases, poking at his chest. The sweatshirt he wore wrinkling under her touch.

“‘M serious,” he insists, “I’m saying it shouldn’t matter that you borrowed my jacket, but sadly it comes across to the rest of the world like I’m dating you.” He pokes her sternum in return.

“And that would be the end of the world?” she smiles, her tone still teasing, but that worry is back and swimming in her eyes again.

This time, though, Harry must not see it because he laughs and lets go of her hand. “For a lot of people, I think it might be.”

She bites at her lip and tries to contain the laugh that bubbles in her. He was right and as he wandered back into the kitchen for more coffee, she shook her head trying to rid herself of those pesky feelings that had been hoping for a different answer.

-

The next few weeks go off without a hitch. Harry’s outfits look incredible for the listening parties. Then for the Graham Norton Show, the Jingle Bell Ball, and the One Night Only at the Forum. Every single outfit is received with praise and everything seems to be coming up Harry Styles. Y/N has been traveling to most of his appearances, making sure everything is in order before he goes out. She’s always by his side before he walks out into the public eye. Taking his picture and saving it in the lookbook that keeps growing, smoothing over his lapels, either unbuttoning or buttoning a middle button when she thought he had too many or not enough undone for the look. Whatever it was, she was there for him.

Then, after his appearances, they would debrief. Debriefs really were just time that Harry carved out in his schedule to just be alone with Y/N. Sure, they talked about clothes, that’s how they had first connected, but it always turned to other ideas. They’d talk about his songs and she’d ask about the meanings that he wouldn’t share with the rest of the world. He’d happily tell her about it and they enjoyed that time together. There were stolen glances and lingering touches, but at the end of the day they were professionals who were friends. It wasn’t maybe what either of them wanted, but they weren’t unhappy.

Harry just got back from Los Angeles after filming for his Ellen show appearance and he was set to play the Bowery Ballroom tomorrow in London. After this there was going to be a lot of downtime on Harry’s schedule because of the holidays. He had marked out almost a whole month of time off, at least from appearances. They still had to start planning tour outfits and finalize the outfits for the events after the break. Right now, all she was focused on was getting Harry into the beautiful yellow Gucci suit that was a twin of the Watermelon Sugar suit he had worn on Saturday Night Live. Harry said he wanted to check the suit before tomorrow for some reason, so Y/N had made her way over.

She finished buttoning the sleeves of the jacket and stepped back to admire Harry once again. No matter what he wore he always looked marvelous in her eyes. She’d argue anyone could say that about Harry though. He could pull anything off and make it his own with barely any effort.

Today, his hair was disheveled and mused from his plane ride back into London. The flight from California to England was a rough one, even when you traveled in the type of luxury Harry did. Despite his tired body and eyes, the suit looked stunning on him. He wore it without shoes and she giggled when she saw his feet. His feet tattoos never failed to make her laugh and she had no explanation for why.

While Harry looked good in everything, there actually was something a little off with the suit right now. Normally, it hugged him just right to make him look perfectly muscled and defined, but it seemed to be hanging a little looser in some areas.

She tapped a finger to her lip, looking him over, unsure of what was off.

“Did you lose weight, H?”

“Huh?” He looks down at himself and somewhat notices the looser fit, but wasn’t quite sure if he had lost weight. “Don’t think so.”

She hums and steps closer to him, dropping her hands to tug at various parts of the suit, trying to figure out whether she should take anything in or leave it be.

“It’s probably all the travel I’ve been doin’. Can be draining me more than I realize.” He ponders as she continues to work silently over the suit.

Her hands travel beneath the suit and encircle his waist, almost as if she’s hugging him, but not really. His stomach flexes at the contact, her chest pressed softly against his. She grips a bit of the shirt from the back and then unfolds herself from him to look at the mirror. The shirt is now taut against his sternum and pectorals under the coat. She tilts her head, silently asking him his opinion.

“I think it’s fine the way it is, honestly.”

“Okay,” she nods and releases her hold on the shirt, hand slithering out from beneath his coat. He exhales deeply through his nose. “Make sure you eat properly tonight.” She says before beginning to pack up her things, done for the day. Harry begins to undress himself.

She turns back to face him as he hands her the jacket and shirt, her eyes run over the length of his torso, both for the sake of checking on his health and for other purely selfish reasons. All the tattoos still remained where they always were when she saw him like this. It never got old, his beautiful body. He didn’t even need clothes to look good. She blinks back to reality when the fabric comes in contact with her hand.

“Make sure you treat yourself this holiday season, you deserve it, H. And it seems like any weight you ever gain is muscle anyways, so you don’t exactly have to worry around the sweets table.”

Harry laughs heartily as he slips on his long sleeve shirt he was wearing. Then he starts on the pants as she turns away again to hang up the top parts of the suit.

Finally, she adds when he hands her the suit pants, “Just don’t want you overworking yourself, seriously, H.”

He looks at her as he buttons up his baggy blue jeans. The outfit he wore was just the first clean things he had grabbed when he had gotten home. His green eyes turn serious after the mirthfilled last few moments.

He crosses to her side as she puts away the clothes in the garment bag. His hand lands softly on her shoulder and she turns to him at his touch. “I know. You’re so good to me, darling. Always making sure I’m taking care of myself…”

It’s quiet. The soft breeze in the London air outside barely whispers around the house. Harry’s voice was laced with love, even if it wasn’t his intention. His ‘thank you’ was piercing into her heart and his touch wasn’t helping her stay focused. Her breath caught in her throat when she felt Harry take a step closer to her, his head ducking slightly down to her level. Then, right on the edge of her left temple and her hairline, his soft lips pressed against her skin. They brushed against her for just a moment, lingering for the respectful amount of time. But all she wanted was anything but respectful. She wanted his lips pressed against hers, she wanted his hands in her hair, yanking her deeply into him. She wanted to scream when he pulled away, but she didn’t. She smiled warmly up at Harry and her eyelashes fluttered on their own accord like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Thank you,” he whispers again.

“What would you do without me?” She pushes at him playfully, shaking off her giddiness. Then she turns back to her work, scooping up all the items of hers on the table.

“Probably have to walk around naked, huh?”

“Oh my god!” She laughs and starts for the door, Harry follows behind to walk to her out to her car. “Maybe I should quit! People would love it.” She continues laughing as she hangs the garment in the passenger's seat side.

“No thank you, please,” Harry hurriedly says.

She turns to him as she closes the door and leans against the car. This was their routine right before she left, a final chat against the car before she drove off for the night.

“Tomorrow’s going to be amazing, H. It’s gonna be electric!” She scrunches her nose slightly at the pun about the venue as she smiles up at him.

He sticks his tongue into the side of his cheek, holding back a laugh. His eyes narrow at her, slyly. “Very funny.”

She only winks at him before pushing herself off of her car and walks to the driver’s side of the car.

He waves as she begins to pull out of the driveway and she flashes him a peace sign and a mouthed ‘Bye’ when she turns onto the street.

-

After the Bowery Ballroom show, Y/N barely sees Harry at the after party. She doesn’t worry about it too much. His management was going to have a holiday party next week before the little break began for the team. So, she knew she’d see him before she flew back to see her family for the holidays. She was going home for two weeks and then would be back for New Year’s and then would get back to work after that.

She saw Harry exactly twice after the show. First, she saw Harry right after the show and he was all sweaty and exhilarated. He tackled her in a bear hug with such strength she would have fallen back if he hadn’t been holding her so tightly. When he pulled away, he placed two extremely slobbery kisses on her cheeks and she laughed, tipping her head back in pure bliss. Then he was pulled away by Jeff to change and get ready for the after party.

Jeff had apologized over text about the tone he had taken over the whole jacket thing, but only Harry had told him to. It was fine with Y/N, she told him that too, but she just never felt like being around him for very long if she could help it after that. That’s why she liked that most of her job entailed dealing with Harry directly. If she had to go through Jeff for everything she’d likely pull her hair out. He was still short with her at whole team meetings and not necessarily courteous when they were around each other casually. Like she said, it was fine, she just didn’t make it her business to be around Jeff.

The second time she saw Harry was around half past one am. She was pretty sure it was time for her to uber home and she wanted to say goodbye to Harry. Her well-liquored body stumbled around the big room. Deciding to take shots with the band had gotten her to where she was now and she wasn’t complaining she was happy. She was in a celebratory mood and wanted to see Harry right now. Tell him how much fun she had and how proud she was of him. How much she loved him… Hopefully she kept that part to herself.

“Harry!” She finally exclaims, coming upon a group of people surrounding the star himself. She ignored the rest of the people, likely stars too, but she really couldn’t care less. One of them tried to straighten up as if he was going to block her from Harry, feeling like she maybe wasn’t someone Harry wanted to see since they didn’t know her. No one seemed to ever recognize Y/N as Harry’s stylist when it mattered. Harry waved them off, a little drunk as well, but obviously recognizing Y/N.

“Darling!” He exclaims and raises his arms out to her. She grips onto him quickly and snuggles into him happily. With her still in his arms, he turns them from the prying eyes of the group he had been with.

She raises her head from his warm chest so that her lips are near his ear, “Congratulations, Mr. Styles.”

“Thanks, baby,” he purrs into her ear, his voice coarse and low, carrying over the music. She giggles at the nickname, her entire plan going out the metaphorical window.

Her fingers smooth up over the fabric on his chest, a nice short sleeve silk button down that was tucked into dark high waisted trousers - they’d picked it out last week. One of her fingers begins to trace around his collarbone after she reaches the opening of the shirt. His eyes flutter shut at the contact. They were so needy for each other. Each touch would coarse heat through them every time.

“I’m going…” She says after a moment of silence between them. The party was raging around them, most not paying any mind to the two of them off in their own world.

“Don’t go,” Harry practically begs. A hand flies up to pet over the top of her hair and she smiles even wider.

“It’s late and I’m tired,” she makes a face in response to Harry’s pout, “You have lots of people to entertain, Mr. Styles.” Her teeth capture her bottom lip as she stares at him intently.

He groans and pulls her closer. This time his lips brush right against her ear and she wants to shiver, but he keeps her in place. “If you keep calling me that, you’re gonna drive me insane.”

Her eyes widen but her hazy mind isn’t processing all of what is going on. She barely takes inventory of ‘baby’, for him to say she’s turning him on without actually saying it. Tomorrow Y/N would have to deal with that one.

She pulls back from him, creating space between their chests, but he still holds her waist close to him. She leans up and places a kiss on the corner of his lips. It’s technically supposed to be a kiss on the cheek but if she had moved her lips a millimeter to the right they would have been on Harry’s. This gesture has his grip tightening on her, but she pulls away.

“Goodnight!” She sings as she bounces out of sight, wiggling her fingers in a wave before completely being gone.

Harry sighs and runs a hand over his face, kind of in shock of the last five minutes. He had liked it. He just hadn’t expected it. When he turns his attention back to the group that was behind him, it’s not the same as it was before. Jeff looks at him with narrowed eyes and Harry’s eyes go wide and his grin widens as well.

-

Tonight is the management holiday party for Harry’s team. Y/N and Harry had seen each other two days after the Electric Ballroom to debrief, but mostly to get brunch. They didn’t talk about the little teases they shared at the after party. Both of them just assumed that the other probably didn’t remember and didn’t want to go through the trouble and embarrassment of recounting it. Alcohol has that effect of making you a little bolder than you actually are.

Brunch with Harry solidified Y/N’s thoughts on fame. Celebrity could be so strange, because there was the one day when she got photographed with just Harry’s jacket on and there was speculation of dating, but then she could go out to brunch with him and not be bothered at all. It made absolutely no sense.

Anyway, tonight there were no gifts, but Y/N had gotten Harry something even though he said he never needs anything. She hoped she’d be able to give it to him after they were walking back to their transportation since she wanted it to be a surprise and not have everyone know she gave him a gift. It wasn’t a big deal - or maybe it was - it was just an item she knew Harry had been fawning over. It was so him and she knew he’d probably end up buying it for himself eventually, but it felt nice to be able to give him something for once. Price didn’t matter. Still, she was a little nervous and tucked and re-tucked it several times in the back seat of her car before heading inside.

It was a restaurant his management had rented out for their party. She gave her name and headed inside. The lighting was overly dimmed and it smelled like expensive alcohol and delicious food. It was everything an A-list singer deserved as a celebration. She never could fully grasp that the Harry she had gotten to know as her friend was also the same Harry that the entire world was infatuated with, for good reason. He was charming in the best way, terribly sincere, insanely talented, and all around a good human being. She knew that, it just surprised her that everyone else knew it too. There was just that disconnect for her that she shared him with the rest of the world.

Her high heeled heels brought her to the backroom of the restaurant. They managed to shimmer even in the dim light. She had gone for winter chic with a sequin and mesh white dress, that looked like fresh snow with a cream and blue swirling design on the under layer so that her undergarments weren’t showing through. It was like a modern ice princess look that was finished with her heels that had sparkles on the entire back of them. Her hair was down and her makeup a little more done up than usual. She used a light blue eyeshadow to imitate ice and added some rhinestones on the inner parts of her eyes. She may have watched a Euphoria-inspired makeup look tutorial on youtube and she wasn’t afraid to admit that.

The scene she came upon was what she expected. Lots of men in suits and a good amount of women in power suits too. The people in any interesting clothes were Harry and his band. Some of the business people’s partners were dressed up more but it all wasn’t too exciting. Plus, Harry’s famous friends group hadn’t shown up yet. Y/N hid her disappointment easily, not surprised about the lack of flavor she saw in the style. She just repeated the mantra her mother had always told her: “You can never be overdressed, only underdressed.” It stuck with her always and made her go for those bolder styles when she needed to.

Harry was there, sipping on a glass of water. She figured he might not want to get started on drinking so early in the evening. Tonight didn’t feel like a drinking night for her either. After the last big party, she had woken up with a massive hangover and a few memories that she wished she hadn’t made. She wasn’t planning on repeating that series of events.

As she goes to grab a glass of water on the large table, she gets a tap on her shoulder. She spins.

“Happy Holidays, darling!”

Her eyes widen and her smile immediately grows. Harry grins back at her, his mouth open in the perfect winning smile of his and his eyes twinkling with happiness.

“Happy Holidays to you too, Mr.-” She stops herself, remembering back to the last party, “H.” She finishes firmly after clearing her throat. Harry’s grin turns to a wicked knowing smirk.

“I’m happy you came! I know you’re not super connected to all of the groups here, Harry Lambert is around somewhere though and I know he’s been wanting to talk with you about clothes.”

Harry watches as her eyes shine even brighter when he mentions the other stylist. It was true, Y/N didn’t really mesh with any of the groups that worked around Harry. The stylist kind of stood alone in regards to where she fit into his life, not the business part, not the band part, not the crew, and not the other celebrities. Harry Lambert and other fashion people didn’t always come to these events so it was seldom that Y/N had her own people to talk to. Not that mingling was hard for her, he just knew she didn’t like to do that as much so whenever another stylist or designer was there he always made sure to introduce them - if they weren’t already acquainted.

“That’s amazing! I haven’t seen him in ages… I’ll have to get his opinion on how I’ve been doing.”

Harry licks his lips as he laughs a little at her comment. She looked beautiful tonight and he wanted to tell her.

“Harry. What the hell are you wearing?” Her eyes flash as she takes in his appearance.

He looks down at himself and then back at her confused. They hadn’t picked the outfit out, but he thought it looked nice.

“Obviously not the suit! On your head?”

“Oh. It’s a gift from Mitch and Sarah.” He pauses to reach up to play with the headband sat on top of his curls. “It’s mistletoe and it seems like you’re standing beneath it. You know what that means,” he toys with it as he wiggles his eyebrows.

She scoffs sarcastically, looking to the side for a means of escape, “No way.”

“C’mon! It’s tradition!” He steps forward playfully and she places a hand on his chest.

“You can kiss my cheek.” She says finally and Harry looks at her disapprovingly.

He wags a finger at her with his free hand, “You’re the one under the mistletoe, you have to kiss me.”

“Okay that’s definitely not how this works! Now you don’t get any kiss at all, you cheeky bastard.”

“Fine. But don’t come crying to me when you’re the one with coal in your stocking.”

“Haha.” Her eyes once again roll to the side as she pushes him back and he steps back like she actually had a strong push. Then they both actually laugh and she gives him a quick side hug with a whispered, “there”. Harry smiles down at her, but it falters slightly when she’s already pulling away. He wanted her at his side the entire night, but sadly that wasn’t reality.

She drags him around the restaurant in search of Harry Lambert since the party had started to grow and she needed his height to get her where she wanted to go. Maybe. Or maybe she just liked the way he held her hand to lead her through the crowd that was most definitely not dense enough for her to have to hold on to him to stay with him at all.

She sees more of Harry at this party. They have some good conversations about plans for the holidays and snickering about who was already too drunk even though it wasn’t even midnight. She can’t believe he keeps on the stupid headband all night, giving and receiving various types of kisses from every person he talks to. Some are kisses on the cheek, others are friendly smooches on the mouth. Thankfully all of them are those cute little pecks that friends always tend to share, otherwise Y/N might have had to excuse herself and leave early. Jealous little thing.

As the night dragged on, she began to question herself on that front. Why was she growing jealous when friends would kiss Harry. She could've kissed Harry. She practically did the other week. But now, after refusing him a mistletoe kiss and seeing everyone else do what she didn’t have the courage to do, she felt childish. Well, childish or not, she knew why she couldn’t kiss him. Kissing Harry wouldn’t be just a friend thing for her. It would mean a lot more and if it was just a friend thing for him she wouldn’t be sure if she could handle going on with their working relationship after. Her job was the most important thing in her life. Being a stylist, loving clothes, and working on personal designs for the future was her life. Giving up this prestigious of a job was out of the question. Maybe the idea of being with Harry had crossed her mind, but she didn’t know how it could ever be realistic. If they got together could she keep her job? Would she have to quit? And find a new one? There were too many unknowns for her to ever actually entertain it. That’s why they went to the edge so often, she always would back away and she was sure that if she didn’t, Harry would for her.

He knew her. He knew her passion, he watches it firsthand everyday they work together. Even when they’re not working he can see her mind forming different ideas just based off of the things she sees people wear on the streets. He watches her fingers fiddle over her phone, typing out notes for design ideas and screenshotting inspiration. So every time they went to the edge of changing their relationship, he knew he couldn’t push it because he never wanted to hurt her or her dreams in some way. She was too important to him to simply mess that up.  Even if it hurt him.

So when Harry slides in the back of her car that night at 2 am because Y/N says she has something important to show him, he’s fully ready to stop their flirting from going any further. And when she tells him she needs to show him something, she has the most pure intentions when she pulls out the nicely wrapped box, its wrapping paper a swirling lavender pattern that’s really not festive at all, but she prefers it.

He looks between her and the box that she’s now placed in his lap. His green eyes flickering even in the darkness of the car, the city lights illuminating the backseat enough for them.

“You know I don’t need anything…” He fiddles with the skinny mesh ribbon neatly tied around the box.

She makes a little gesture, pushing him to open the present, “I know, but I also know you’ve been wanting this and you deserve it.”

He unwraps the paper to reveal a Gucci box and he rolls his eyes at her, but smiles genuinely as he lifts the top of the box off. It reveals a 1955 Horsebit Shoulder Bag in beautiful shiny black leather. It’s gorgeous.

“I can’t...I don’t know what to say,” Harry’s eyes are huge as his delicate hands ghost over the bag's details. He had been wanting it and he hadn’t gotten the courage to buy it yet. He liked purses, but sometimes he even had his doubts about what he could pull off.

His eyes go back to her and she smiles widely at him, all her teeth on display because she’s just that happy. “This is a really expensive bag, Y/N.”

“If it makes you feel better I can charge it as a wardrobe expense, but then it’s not really a gift from me,” She sighs at his unrelenting gaze.

“Thank you.” He touches at the bag again and then does a dance in his spot. “And don’t worry, I will always remember this as a gift from you. I love it.”

She smiles and leans over the box to look at the bag, admiring the beauty of it as well. “It’s pretty great.”

“Mhmm,” Harry hums and she raises her eyes, seeing his trained on her face. “You’re under the mistletoe again, darling,” he smirks.

Her breath stops once again, how could he do that to her so easily? Their eyes stay locked under the city lights. The fake mistletoe bobs above them still connected to the silly headband. It’s colorful leaves and fun stripes mock her when she flicks her gaze up to it for a moment. Then back to Harry. Harry who’s holding the gift she just gave him. Harry who looks beautiful tonight. Harry who is her favorite person in the world to spend time with.

Now. Now is when she pulls back from the ledge. This is when she takes a step back and stops herself. When Harry laughs it off. When she pushes him away. When they go about the rest of their day like that electricity hadn’t gone up either of their spines.

But that’s not what happens. Instead, she nods in agreement and then crashes her lips against Harry’s. It’s not like those friend kisses that had happened with him all night under that same mistletoe. It’s hard and hot and fast. Her lips are pressed to his for one searing moment and then she’s biting his lip, desperate to taste more of him. She had been longing for this for so long and now that she had it, she couldn’t let it go.

Harry’s hands fly to her cheeks as he pulls her closer, more into his lap. He pushes the box into the front area of the car blindly. The gift was completely forgotten. This was a far more important matter. Her lips were wet and plush and they tasted like the single Manhattan she had halfway through the night and vanilla lip gloss. When she bites his lip, he can’t hold back the moan inside his throat and she presses her tongue into his mouth quickly. He was her oasis and she had been traveling for months. He responds with similar vigor, enjoying the way her body presses to his in the backseat of this little car.

They kiss for as long as they can. Licking, sucking, and biting each other’s lips to taste as much as they can. But it’s just kissing. Neither of them work to travel anywhere else. Their lips are seemingly enough. Each press of their lips communicates what they had been longing for. It’s euphoric.

When the windows start to fog and her eyes open for a random moment, she realizes they need to cool whatever this is.

“H-Harry,”  She gulps for a breath of air and she tries to get his attention. “I gotta get home.”

“Come back to my place,” he mumbles into her collarbone, happily licking over his love bite.

She laughs and swallows slowly, “That is definitely out of the question, I have a flight tomorrow.”

He removes his mouth from her and straightens up. His lips are even brighter pink than usual and perfectly puffy. His hair disheveled from her hands. She blushes at the thought.

“Right, forgot about that,” he opens the car door and they both slide out. They stand at her car, just like they usually did outside his house. However this time is quite different from most.

They sigh heavily, in unison. The winter air is cold in London. She shivers slightly and knows she can’t stay in his presence much longer.

“Merry Christmas, H.”

He leans down and places one last sweet kiss to her lips. She wrinkles her nose and smiles  unabashedly.

“Merry Christmas, Darling.”

-

Harry and her don’t talk as much while she’s back home for the holidays. There’s no work to be discussed and while they parted on not necessarily bad terms, there was definitely a conversation that needed to be had between the two. Neither seemed to want to have that conversation over the phone, or worse, text. So for the next week and a half, Harry and Y/N exchanged texts of funny memes that reminded them of each other and odd anecdotes from family members that had made them laugh. Nothing really substantial, just small, I was thinking of you messages.

When she walked out of the luggage carousel at London Heathrow Airport, she expected to be getting in the queue for an uber. Instead, before she could cross the street to get to the queue even, a tall man stopped her. A tall, scruffy, extremely buff, extremely handsome, and extremely kissable man. Harry. It would be terribly strange if it was anyone else.

“Excuse me, ma’am, do you need a lift back to your flat?” His dark sunglasses cover his face and a big coat, scarf, and hat make him hardly recognizable. The curls sticking out from beneath the cute knit scarf are thankfully a dead give away for her. As well as his perfect drawling voice.

She shivered in the cold, her matching grey sweatpants and Treat People With Kindness sweatshirt had been warm enough on the flight, but proved inadequate for almost January in London. Yet, Harry’s presence brings a smile to her face.

“It’s good to see you, H.”

He laughs, his cover obviously blown. His arms encircle her body and she instantly melts into his embrace. His large coat easily fell around her and warmed her. His own natural body heat adds to her new found warmth as well.

“You too,” he murmured. His head buries into the crook of her neck, warming her cold skin.

He pulls back after a rather long embrace, realizing they’re still out on the sidewalk. He takes one step back and she visibly deflates at his absence, the cold once again surrounding her.

“Let’s get you home,” he grabs at the handle of her suitcase in one hand and her hand in the other. The warmth returns and she grins, placated by his touch.

“So are you coming to my party tonight?” He inquires once he settles into the driver’s seat after putting her suitcase in the back.

She shifts in her seat, arms wrapped tightly around herself, still cold without any warmth from Harry or the car. “Don’t you suppose there was a reason why I chose to come home today?”

Harry’s ears perk at the use of home, never assuming Y/N viewed London as her home, still it made him smile.

As the car purrs to life, heat immediately seeping out of the seats and vents, Harry’s phone connects as well. NFWMB by Hozier begins to play softly and she glances at Harry again. The song was so sultry and soft, like expensive dark chocolate melting on your tongue. The mood in the car seemed to shift. Their eyes met, Harry’s green ones narrowing at her, trying to decipher the look she was giving to him.

Then he drove off, softly singing along to the words through the sleepy streets. It was surprisingly quiet out for the holidays, people choosing to lay low during the day so they could celebrate the changing of decades in full force tonight.

After the song ends, his eyes travel over to her again and she’s already looking at him. She had missed his face. Sure, he’d sent some silly selfies while she was gone. Mostly on Christmas Eve with his family when he had gotten drunk on mulled wine and eggnog and brandy. Still, in person, he was even more beautiful. The high cheek bones that glistened with a shine most makeup could only hope to produce. Full raspberry lips with stubble growing to frame above and below. The crinkles growing on his forehead and by his eyes that showed him aging with grace. The precious few moles that had gotten lucky enough to live on his face forever. His big green eyes that were consistently bright with interest and intellect, but deep and knowing despite his loving demeanor. She loved those big green eyes, they were just so big and she didn’t understand how no one took the same interest in them as her. All of it, just sitting there beside her. Don’t even get her started on the soul that inhabited the beautiful man beside her. She never would stop spiraling then.

“What?” He asks softly, the sounds of Paul McCartney during some era fading in.

She blinks, hazily in admirance, “Nothing,” she replies.

“What?” He insists, laughing slightly, the lips she loves so much widening in excitement.

“Just missed you.”

Her voice is quiet but strong, serious. A blush creeps up his neck, taking hold of his features.

“Missed you too,” his left hand reaches across the console to take hold of her hand that resided on her thigh. He squeezes her hand softly and they both smile at each other again.

“Don’t worry, I can get my stuff upstairs. I don’t want you being out in the cold any longer than you have to. I’ll see you tonight, H!” She pushes her body across the console and places a kiss on his cheek before jumping out of the car. Harry makes a half smile, knowing he can’t change her mind. He waves to her behind the window as she travels into her building.

“See you.” He says to himself before driving back to his home to finish up preparing for tonight’s festivities. The party was going to be more intimate than the Christmas party at the restaurant. Tonight was just Harry’s family and closest friend - the band, Jeff and his family, Y/N, and a few others.

-

The whole night Harry and Y/N are within a foot of each other, if not on top of each other. He never leaves her side nor does she his. They are tethered to one another. The longest they’re apart is when Harry gets them refills of Champagne and Y/N journeys to the restroom. They laugh and catch up.

As the night goes on, Harry begins to whisper sweet nothings in her ear and she giggles and places her hand on his chest flirtily. Their interaction is a dance, bedroom eyes and low voices, lingering touches and suggestive lip bites.

When the countdown begins to grow closer, everyone refills their drinks and gathers in the center of Harry’s living room. They cheer and countdown to 2020. And of course, Y/N’s by Harry’s side as he begins the count. And when they get to ‘one’ and everyone’s saying “Happy New Year”, Harry and her are sharing a chaste peck to the lips that electrifies everything they had been saying to each other all night. She sighs into his mouth, but pulls away quickly, aware of their surroundings. No one particularly questions the kiss, either not paying attention or caring. Harry beams down at her and they enjoy the rest of the evening.

At around 1 am, the last of the guests stumble out of Harry’s homes and into waiting ubers and safe rides. Y/N lingers back, beginning to clean the discarded glassware and paper plates. Her and Harry are definitely tipsy, but they enjoy the cleaning work, making terrible jokes about New Year’s and commenting on what people wore tonight. When it’s relatively cleaned in the kitchen, Y/N wanders out to the living room and finds Harry reclined back on the couch.

“H,” She sticks out her foot and nudges him with her boot.

“C’mere,” he reaches out his hand to her, his coat discarded, leaving his arms bare with only a white tank top on.

She takes his hand hesitantly and is yanked on top of Harry in an instant. With a loud huff, she settles above him. “That wasn’t nice.”

“Shush,” his pointer finger goes over her lips, her eyes narrow at him, “Can you believe we’re seeing 2020?”

“Oh my god! I hate you!” She rolls her eyes at his pun and shakes herself from his hand around her waist. She stands up to walk away but he easily grasps her wrist and stops her, easily sitting himself up on the couch.

He looks at her and her annoyance, that wasn’t all too strong in the first place, dissipates. She sighs, “I should probably be heading home.”

“You should stay, it’s so late,” his hand rubbing over the skin on her wrist.

She bites her lip, contemplating the offer, he was right. “I’m really tired and we haven’t really talked, H.”

“But we-”

“Not about us. We’ve been skirting around it, flirting with each other all night, but we haven’t talked about what’s going on. I can’t stay if you expect something from me.”

“I don’t expect anything from you, Y/N. That’s not why I want you to say,” Harry says earnestly, realizing quickly  what she’s saying. “I’ve never expected anything from you. An offer to stay is just an offer to stay.”

“Okay,” she finally smiles and sits down beside Harry.

“You can sleep in the guest bedroom, too. If that makes you more comfortable?”

“Oh...I don’t know if we have to take it that far. Plus, you’re like a personal heater and I get cold at night.”

Harry perks up, he had been feeling resigned that maybe she wasn't on the same page as him. He wanted to be with her all the time but also didn’t want to put any pressure on her. She just made him so happy.

“Great! Let’s get to bed then.” He pops up from the couch and brings her into his arms, “You know where all my clothes are, so you can just borrow whatever you want, and then I’m sure I have extra toothbrushes…”

She giggles into his side as she watches him ramble animatedly. Sometimes he was oh so bright, so joyful and carefree. A stark contrast from the quiet confidence he often exhibited for the public.

-

She woke up in the warm embrace of Harry. His whole bed smelled like him, vanilla mixed with spices of tobacco and sandalwood. It was delicious and she snuggled in deeper to the soft chest she laid against, breathing in his scent deeply.

They rested there for a long time. Harry makes his awakening known with a lingering kiss to her forehead. They both sigh in contentment, radiant in each other’s arms.

“What’s the plan today?” She ponders as Harry’s fingers trace patterns over her skin. He hums in thought.

“Wanna be with you…”

She laughs and looks up at him, “Me too, but we can’t lay around all day.”

“Well, we could.” Harry insists.

She laughs again and twists in his arms, settling so she’s facing him. She bites her lip as she thinks about something, scanning his face over and over.

“I’m gonna go home and get ready for the day. Let’s just explore the city and do some 2020 shopping. Who knows, maybe fashion’s changed since the last decade,” she grins.

Harry chuckles a little and pets at her hair, “I like the sound of that. And we can talk - about us.”

“Mmhmm.”

He tilts his head forward and meets her lips once again, savoring her taste. Each kiss makes him want more. She was good.

-

Harry lugs in the four heavy shopping bags into her flat, as she carries the single small bag from the chocolatier he had dragged them into. He presses her to the counter when he sets down the bags and begins to kiss her face all over. She giggles and places her hands on his shoulders, giving him a kiss to the lips before pulling away.

They had talked about what they wanted, what they saw in each other and how that fit into their work relationship and the rest of their lives. Harry would have to talk to Jeff, but more so as a by the way this is what I’m doing with my life, not an ask for permission. Y/N would continue as his stylist until the end of the tour cycle, but afterwards she’d go back to freelancing. They wanted to try to date and be as normal as possible. She told him how she didn’t love the fame or the celebrities. Sure she dealt with those things for work, but when they were off duty, she wanted to be regular. She wanted to go out on dates and make dinner on weekend nights. Harry had agreed, he wanted those things too and he understood her wish to keep work and their relationship separate. However, he’d made her concede to allowing kisses during work hours. She had laughed and said it was an easy term to agree to.

It was going to be a good thing. They were both giddy with excitement, the new year, and all the new things they had bought on their relationship high.

“Oh!” She pushed Harry further away from her and hurried into her room. He laughed and looked confusedly after her. “Wait there!” She called. Harry leaned against the back of her upholstered chair.

“Close your eyes!” She says before coming back into the room. Harry’s hands go over his eyes easily as he grins blindly in her direction.

“‘M waiting…”

“Open.”

Harry’s hands slip away and his green eyes blink open. In front of him stands Y/N holding up a hand knit brown sweater vest with horizontal red, cream and blue thin stripes along with the thicker brown stripes. Harry beams, reaching his hands out to take hold of it.

“It was supposed to be a surprise for later, but I found it at this vintage place while I was home and I couldn’t wait any longer to show it to you.”

“Darling, this is gorgeous. I love it! But you shouldn’t have...”

“I thought you could wear it for Lizzo’s concert. I know you said you liked the other sweater vest, but this one is so-”

“You spoil me, seriously.” He cuts her off and laughs before pulling her back into him. Their lips collide in a searing kiss, Harry’s excitement over the new garment making him eager to show her how much he really loved it.

A small sigh escapes her lips as Harry presses into her. His tongue pushing into her mouth in a way that turns the sigh into a moan.

“Let me show you just how much I love it,” He murmurs against her lips, casting the garment onto the back of the chair he had previously been leaning on.

She smiles, eyes fluttering open and meeting his with adoration swelling in their depths. Then she allows him to back their intertwined bodies into her room.

-

Some apartment in New York a few months later:

“I knew it!” 

“Huh?” Aidy lifts her head from the skit she was working on to look at her friend and coworker. 

“That stylist...for Harry Styles,” Heidi shifts, sitting up and turning her phone to face Aidy, “She was seen out with him, getting lunch in London and then making out on a street corner. I bet they were dating back in November when he was on the show!” 

Aidy laughs, thinking back to her conversation with the stylist that night of Harry’s show. The girl had been so in love that night and Harry had been smitten all week, describing her in the best way, praising her every decision, yearning for her even. And now they were actually together...she was happy for them. 

“I don’t know about that...but they were head over Gucci heels for each other that’s for sure.” 

Heidi and her scroll through the pictures on social media of the singer and his girlfriend. 

“They probably are the best dressed couple I have ever seen,” Heidi grumbles. 

“Now that is definitely accurate.”

--

taglist: @meredithhuntt​ @sovereigndeadlyperfect @marauderswhisperer​ @toribentleyva​ @girlboss99​ @harryssunflxwer​ @loverofaccents​ @stephaniemalvie​ @mk15x @beanholland​ @stfxlou​ @loliismutt​ @pinkisawesome101​ @stilljosiegrossie​ @kikisparadise18​ @clementimee​