#and not make up excuses for a company and its employees

[galedekarios]

The people going "it's not a big deal" confuse me. What other character gets shit on by everyone unwarranted and unprompted? What other character is told to not be themselves, because that would be terrible advice for them specifically? None of the devs or writers say that Astarion should be handed over to the Gur hunter and killed by them because as a vampire he's a monster anyway and this way it's a good end and he won't hurt anyone anymore. Lae'zel is brutal and aggressive, but instead of going "haha yeah isn't that so annoying, boo 👎" the devs defend her and say that audiences would not be saying that if she was a man instead. Shadowheart always has something to say, too, about Shar and Selune, and other things, but they don't call her annoying about her religion. Astarion can feed on PC and give you a negative buff, but that's fine. Gale needs a trivial color spray trinket, one of only three(!!) trinkets, and god he's just the worst. And that isn't even the end of it, that's just where I'm choosing to stop this already long message. After a certain point, if the ONLY place where Gale doesn't get shit on is when you're talking to him directly and choosing the nice options, then yeah I feel like there's a problem behind the scenes there. Especially when his story is about forgiveness, belief that you're enough, allowing yourself to love and be loved again, accepting and asking for help, and learning that you deserve to live, but the devs say that an ending where all of that is thrown away and even after telling him that he's enough you still have him sacrifice himself is good... then it's like what would have to happen for people to realize that Gale is treated differently than the rest? And what do they have to say for others to realize that they're going against their anti-suicide message? Because I don't get it. Is the world going to end? No. But that doesn't mean this isn't weird and hurtful. Escaping the cycle of abuse and becoming better is great is the basis of their game, unless your name is Gale.

i really have nothing to add here.

[six-of-ravens]

oh side note, the reason why I walked out of work this morning is that a client noticed 40 pages on her website were just blank, and I told the PM "yeah I noticed that too earlier this week, but I figured it was intentional since there were so many, there's no way the client wouldn't have noticed that. maybe they just wanted the urls created for redirecting or something"

and then the client said "yeah well we never edit X [part of the site that was similar for all pages] so it HAS to be you!!!!"

at which point I left bc that was a blatant lie, they edit X all the time, and I couldn't deal.

AND THEN, AFTER I LEFT ANOTHER DEV LOOKED AT IT AND DISCOVERED IT WASN'T X AT ALL. IT WAS A FORM THE CLIENT HAD BUILT IN OUR FORM-BUILDER PLUGIN AND THEN DOWNLOADED AND EDITED THE SOURCE CODE FOR AND BROKE. AND THEY NEVER CHECKED THEIR FUCKING WORK AFTER REUPLOADING IT.

TAKE THAT YOU STUPID MOTHERFUCKERS.

[ozzgin]

I just finished playing Firewatch and the cozy, lonely vibes gave me another monster idea! You got a summer job as a fire watch for the closest National Park. All you have to do is to sit in your tower, and...watch. For fires. Sounds boring? Worry not, your supervisor is there to keep you company over the radio. Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, obsessive behavior, suggestive ending

"And? What are you running away from?"

"Excuse me?"

You raise your eyebrows at the unexpected question coming from the radio. The deep voice belongs to your supervisor, the man who'll guide you throughout your stay at the National Park.

"No one picks up an isolated job in the mountains out of sheer desire. Especially someone as young as you." He chuckles briefly, then resumes in a more professional tone: "My apologies. You don't have to answer that."

What a strange way to begin the conversation, you think to yourself. Yet this nonchalance and casualty is all you have for the following months. The other watchtowers don't talk much, if at all. You're entirely alone in the wilderness, save for the mysterious man on the radio.

Slowly, you begin to warm up to his chatty nature. He likes to ask a lot of questions. A terribly curious individual, though you can understand his reasoning: he's been working for the Park for over a decade. How does one survive without another human being?

He never leaves his tower, and thus you've never seen his face. He's content, you're indifferent. Occasionally, he'll mention sketching you to pass the time.

"How would you describe your eyes, (Y/N)?" he'll ask between his pencil scribbles. "I see. I'm sure they're beautiful. Why are you suddenly quiet? Have you forgotten how to take a compliment? I'm just messing with you, kiddo."

You haven't witnessed a single fire since coming here, despite the torrid summer heat. Your days are spent hiking without aim and talking to your supervisor.

One morning, you wake up to the grating beep of the radio instead of your alarm. You pick up the small device with an irritated grunt.

"Would you like to meet?"

You need a moment to process the words. Are you finally going to greet the one man who's kept you distant company for weeks? Intriguing. You mumble your agreement, still half-asleep.

As you make your way down the hill, you notice a supply station covered in moss and overgrown vegetation. You check your map, just to be sure. There shouldn't be anything here. What a peculiar thing to stumble upon. You approach the old wooden box and lift the lid carefully.

The musty inside is filled with rows of newspapers and some scattered notes. You pluck one newspaper out, and rest your eyes on the first headline.

"National Park is saying goodbye to its employees. The area will be permanently closed after the devastating fire."

You gawk at the title, then at the photographed location.

It's your watchtower.

You scramble to read the rest of the paragraphs, words slipping behind in your frantic search. This forest has been sealed off for years. You recognize the name of your supervisor in the report: a father of three, loved by everyone, died tragically before a rescue team could reach him.

"Found anything interesting, kiddo?"

You turn around with mild hesitation. Whoever this impersonating maniac is, or what he wants, is rather irrelevant at this point. You're trapped alone with him.

Across from you stands a creature, resembling a chimera more than a human being. Long, grotesque limbs ending in black claws, hollow eyes, and mangled rows of razor-sharp teeth put together in a grin. Monstrous.

You're out of breath.

"That looks great", the creature remarks cheerfully.

"Don't use my voice to talk. It's embarrassing to hear myself like that", you lecture it as you spread out the food onto the picnic blanket.

It switches back to the supervisor's soft, masculine tone.

"Sorry, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."

The monster extends one bony hand over your head, fanning out the fingers and dragging them across your hair in gentle strokes. What a precious little human you are.

You did not run away. A terrifying thought: losing you after all the time spent together. It didn't want to chase you down and make it even worse for you. But you stayed, you truly did.

"By the way", you say as you bite into your sandwich, stretching out your legs. "Is it you who prevents the fires? Usually it's a common occurrence here, especially in summer."

You recall the scorching flames from the newspaper.

"Yes. To keep you safe, you understand."

"Not only did you lie to me about the job, but you kept me out of work, too", you whine. "I got bored to death! Days on end!"

You're suddenly pushed down into the blanket, and you stare into the spiraling, empty sockets, confused.

"I can entertain you to your heart's desire, (Y/N)."

Its snout widens in a flirty smile, releasing a bizarre succession of clicks. Is it laughing in its natural voice?

You blush.

"I suppose there are some ways..." you suggest cheekily, unbuttoning your shirt.

[More Monsters] | [More Original Works]

[vitiateoriginator]

At my job we have a TV in the breakroom that plays announcements from the company, news of events, and company propaganda (no I am not kidding).

Last month's propaganda piece featured the company's CEO bragging about the corporation making 5 Billion dollars in profits, and that it was all because of the employees (that he only pays $13 an hour). They played this video every 5 minutes and repeated it twice in a row each time, once with English subtitles, and the second time with Spanish subtitles.

This month's propaganda is about Open Door Policy. They also play this one back to back every 5 minutes. Wonder why that is

[1u11ablues]

​❝ good morning. no, don’t get up, it’s raining, let’s stay in bed a little longer… ❞ (Company Boss Simon 'Ghost Riley' x Reader)

Warning: Implied nsfw.

Petrichor scented the room. Outside, the wind lilted, enticing you to ignore the cold air running in from the window. A siren tempting her victim to freeze to death. 

You wouldn’t care, typically, but the rain slanted in a way that aimed straight into the little room you’ve found yourself in.

You got up to gray. As is the typical colour pallette for the English, with their rain and their clouds and their rare sighting of sun. One could get sick of such things, eventually…

Strong arms slithered up around your waist.

Oh, right. You forgot why you were in this unfamiliar room to begin with.

A night out with your colleagues. Mr. Riley, your boss, making a surprise appearance. You, trying your best not to make it too obvious that you were crushing on him. Even going as far as to pick a seating as far away from the head of the table, but-

How were you to know that he likes to sit with his employees more?

Flashes of images greeted you as you remembered. Him never letting you pour your own drinks out. Making sure your water is always refilled. Him eating with one hand because his big arms made it hard for you to fit both of yours on the table to eat comfortably—and he insisted that you used both of yours.

God, maybe he’d noticed you stealing glances at the way his free hand rests on his thighs, how his fingers almost dipped in and pointing down where his trousers seemed to have trouble hiding a gift.

When your mind started heading towards sinful territories, you excused yourself. Said you were coming down with something. You decided to stop by the washroom to cool your overheated skin off before calling for a ride, but when you exited, was greeted by your boss with a first-aid pack that seemed tiny for his hands.

“Need anything from here?”

You should’ve just said no and dashed right out. But the people pleasing tendencies won that night.

“Paracetamol,” you simply said, reaching a palm out, expecting him to pop open two pills and send you home. Well, you didn’t expect him to actually stepped forward and placed the back of his knuckles against your temple, gauging your temperature.

Thank god you were actually feeling a little warm.

“There’s a clinic down the road. Let me,” and before you know it, your purse was in his hands, and he urged you with only his presence on your back.

When the clinic came into view, you finally admitted that you weren’t really that sick.

“We should check, just in case,” he spoke, the sight of your purse trapped underneath his arm and torso the only thing keeping you distracted from total humiliation right then and there.

“It’s fine, sir. A good night’s sleep is all I need,” you assured. Funny how life decided to laugh and throw in a heavy storm as extra.

“We can’t drive home in this weather,” he complained, hair wet from the downpour, and his arms on grand display. What is it with men and their habits of rolling the sleeves of their shirts up?

“There’s a motel right across,” your idiot mouth suggested, thinking it will only be a while to wait the rain out.

Well, now you’re wet and shivering and it’s almost midnight with no signs of the storm passing. In a one bed motel room with its fluffy duvet and warmer sheets than the death fabric clinging to you.

“I think you should get in bed, love,” he suggested when he noticed you looking at it longingly. Also a wet and shivering mess, stood guard, looking outside the window. “Hang your wet clothes to dry and get warm under the blanket. I’ll leave soon as the rain stops.”

Neither of you seemed to be having the best of luck that night.

“Sir, I think you should do the same. It doesn’t seem like it’ll stop soon.”

“Fuck,” he cursed just as his lips began to pale, stripping down hurriedly before jumping into the bed beside you.

It took a while for him to warm up. Perhaps too long for your comfort.

“Are you still cold, sir?”

He nodded with a twitch of his jaw.

Worried, you pull the covers up until his head is covered. Having no other ideas on how to warm up a man that doesn’t involve touching him.

Eventually, you had to put that suggestion forward, anyway. You called down and requested for warm tea to be sent up, and after he’d downed a cup, braced yourself for your question.

“I’m plenty warm, sir. I’d like to share some of it with you, sir.” I’m not trying to take advantage of you, sir.

In hindsight, you should’ve expected the difficulty that comes with cuddling someone you’re attracted to, skin to skin. 

So something twitched. Jerked. Leaked and stained.

By then, the elephant is the room.

“I’m not known to keep a warmed woman wanting,” he joked with his arms under his head, “but there’s always a first time for everything.”

You scoffed.

“You say that as if your dick isn’t trying to lift the covers off me.”

“I never said I’m not. Wanting.”

“What happens in this room stays in this room?”

Neither of you couldn’t believe the words that naturally tumbled out of you. But it was too late to reel in the rampant thoughts that should’ve been spoken with your inside voice.

What happened next was a flash. It took all but seconds before he pulled you into a crashing kiss. Hovered over you as his lips trailed kisses down your body, stopping just before the apex of your thighs.

Foreplay was too intimate when you know this moment was stolen.

“You’re all but ready,” he echoed your thoughts before pushing in. 

That did the trick of stoking the furnace in him right up. He was no longer shivering from the cold, but from the high of his orgasm as it painted your stomach—both of you trying your best to keep the noise to a minimum. Everyone knows how thin motel walls are.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, settling into a sleepy embrace behind you after he’d cleaned you up. 

Fatigue and bliss kept you from overthinking. But now, in the wee hours of the morning—storm still somehow going strong—your worry blossomed.

Thoughts keep you from falling back into comfortable slumber until the arm pulls you up close to the body behind you. An ongoing heater now that he was able to warm himself up.

“Good morning,” a sleepy murmur came out of him.

Your shiver had nothing to do with the cold blasting into the room. You got up to try to close the windows back up, but stopped by his hold.

“No, don’t get up.”

“It’s raining, sir. I need to close the window before the room gets wet.”

He pressed you firm onto the bed. Sat up and jogged straight to the window to shut it close tight.

“Please, call me Simon,” he said, gazing straight into your eyes. “And please, let’s stay in bed a little longer. We’ll think about the consequences of this later.”

When life throws you a storm…

[lunarmoves]

through pixel eyes (chapter one)

pairing: DCA sun/moon/eclipse x reader

mentions: kinitopet/virtual au, gender neutral reader, general creepiness

a/n: ignoring that it's 3am where i am... ch1's finally here! yippee!! ending is rushed but im tired so excuse it LOL pls check out the masterlist for more info on the fic (tags & summary). hope u guys enjoy! :D

word count: 5.3k+

masterlist

ao3 link

Click. Click. Taptap tap tap. Click. 

You chew aimlessly at the bottom of your lip as your mouse roves over to the latest email in your inbox, opening it with another decisive click. Perking up slightly, your eyes skim through its contents, mindful of the zip file attached to it at the top. 

Valued employee, the email reads, thank you again for your decision to assist Fazbear Entertainment in the latest beta testing stages for our developing proprietary technology. Attached is the file you are required to download to begin testing. As always, be mindful of the documentation you have signed previously; a failure to comply will result in immediate termination. Located at the bottom of this email is the submission form you will need to populate each time you conduct a run. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to reply to this email. Have a Faz-errific day! 

You hum and scroll back to the top of the email again so you can look at the attached file. FazPals1.1_DCA.zip, it says. You click the download button, then lean back in your chair as you wait. 

For being such a large company, FazCo has a rather small beta testing team. You suppose it makes sense, though; their technology is so unparalleled that you are sure they’d want to keep information as closed off as possible. Hence why you’d been forced to sign all matters of forms—contracts, an N.D.A., and waivers, of all things—before they’d signed you on. You’re sure they are even more restrictive with their information after the pizzaplex burned down all those years ago. You’re lucky you’d managed to slither your way into their ranks to make the beta team, though you figure it helps that your resume is stacked with experience. 

You are certainly curious as to what they’ve been doing while they parade assurances that the pizzaplex will return “better than ever.” You have a vague idea from your past emails with management as you were being incorporated into the beta testing team—some kind of interactive game of sorts, you think—but they’ve been rather hush-hush about it. Your answer resides in the zip file that’s just finished downloading to your computer. You navigate to your file explorer and begin the extraction process for the files. Luckily, it doesn’t take too long. You scratch idly behind your ear, shifting your headphones a little to rest more comfortably atop your head. 

Okay. File open. Where is the— There! You double click on the FazPals_DCA.exe file to run it and begin installation. A brief glance at the time shows it is a little after six in the evening. You have quite a bit of time before you’ll need to head to bed. You’ll see how far into the program you get before you hit a checkpoint or something. 

You watch as a tiny pink and white bear on the installation window flips a pizza over and over while the progress bar steadily inches its way to full completion. It is oddly hypnotizing. And when the program finally finishes installing, the window closes. An icon of a cool crescent moon tucked into the burning yellow of a sun appears on your desktop and is labeled as FazPals. Nice. Thank you, fast WiFi. Without much preamble, you double click on the icon. 

A small window pops up in the middle of your screen. You glance through the text quickly. 

Welcome to version 1.1 of FazPals, your very own virtual desktop friend based on the hit characters from Fazbear Entertainment's Mega Pizzaplex! They are able to walk, talk, joke, tell stories, give fun facts, adapt, and play games! FazPals are like no other with their innovative adaptive technology! You'll learn from them as they learn from you!

Click the button below if you are ready to meet your new FazPal!

Not what you’d been expecting, but it sounds pretty cool. It reminds you of the Tamagotchis from all those years ago—only with the A.I. of Fazbear-branded technology. Well! No time like the present! You click the ‘Proceed’ button and the window closes. 

In the center of your screen, a small music box appears. It’s an unassuming little thing, wrapped in yellow with a red ribbon crossing over it to tie into a neat bow at the top. A crank awaits your click, so you do just that, watching as it rotates around and around until— Pop! The box opens and something jumps out of it with a flourish and a jingle of bells that echoes through your headset. 

The box disappears and you’re left to stare curiously at the little figure swaying animatedly on your desktop. He seems to look around a bit, then a small dialogue box flashes over his head. But before you can read its contents, the box disappears in a static puff. You cock your head slightly. A glitch, maybe? You file that away for later and instead observe the tiny, taut grin of the program. Your FazPal, or whatever. 

You recognize him from the pizzaplex commercials you’d seen on the television years ago—the Daycare Attendant. A fellow—fellows?—modeled after celestial bodies. You’re looking at the sun, currently, though his design is a bit different from what you remember seeing.

Before you can get a good look at him, however, another dialogue box pops up over his head with text accompanying a voice that chirps into your headset. You are momentarily surprised at the sound; you hadn’t expected FazCo to incorporate their voice module into the program too. 

“Hellooo, New Friend!” Sun exclaims in a slightly pixelated manner—hardly noticeable, really—as he waves a small hand. “My name is Sun, your very own F-FazPal!” There’s a slight glitch on the word that makes his voice deepen slightly, but it passes easily enough. “What’s your name?” 

Following his question, a window labeled ‘Name?’ pops up to his side with a textbox for you to input your answer. Figuring he isn’t going to proceed with his script until you type your answer, you take the moment to properly analyze his design. 

Detached sunrays of white and gold hover around his head, framing bright eyes and an equally as bright smile on a face split into a crescent. He’s rather lithe, with a red sash tied around his waist that’s adorned with small, golden bells. Another bell is tied around his spindly neck with a red ribbon, and those same ribbons are tied around his wrists. His torso is bare and colored in different shades of yellow. Puffy red pants cover his legs—triangularly shaped with sharp lines and edges. They are decorated in a design that reminds you of the circuitry of a motherboard—dissecting lines connected by small circles that start from his waist and make their way down the length of his pants in a trickle. Pointy shoes with little suns on their sides finish the look. 

He is all angles and unforgiving points, with a digitized sort of look to him that fits the whole ‘FazPal’ aesthetic, in your opinion. It’s certainly interesting. You like the futuristic feel to it. 

Pulling yourself back to the present, you type in your name. Sun has his arms crossed behind his back as he waits, swaying gently side to side. You hit enter and the window disappears. 

“Lovely name!” Sun chirps, his rays spinning around his head eagerly that you eye in interest. They look like floating pieces of fractured, stained glass, dainty yet deadly. “I’m sure we are going to be the bestest best friends!” You snort at the declaration. 

“To start our little quest of friendship,” Sun continues on, his head moving towards the dialogue box that pops up near him like he’s looking at it, eyes narrow. It’s honestly difficult to tell with that blank gaze of his. He returns his gaze to the front, where his eyes upturn into little crescents. “Why don’t we get to know each other? Sound good?” 

Another window appears with two simple buttons sitting next to each other under it: A ‘Yes’ and a ‘No’. You click the ‘Yes’ and Sun gives an excited little clap of his hands. It’s cute, in a way. “Wonderful! Okay! To start, what iiisss your favorite color?” The open window closes, then reopens to a textbox again with the new question displayed at the top. You hum and tap your chin thoughtfully, then let your fingers fly across your keyboard as you type the color in. 

You pause, however, before you hit enter and decide to tack on a ‘hbu?’ to your response. If only to satisfy your curiosity and really test the limits of FazCo’s ingenious A.I. Hey, you’re a beta tester—it speaks for itself! 

Sun grins even wider, if possible. “That’s a good one! As for me…” He makes a thinking gesture, eyes narrowing like he’s contemplating it deeply, then brightens up. No, literally. A lightbulb appears over his head for a quick moment. “I like all the colors, it’s so hard to choose just one! Normally, I just say ‘rainbow’!” He makes a little semicircle gesture with his hands around his head. Little pixelated sparkles wink into and out of existence near his fingers before he clasps his hands behind him once more. You’ve got to hand it to FazCo—they certainly know how to add some flair to their characters. “Next question! If you could have any superpower ever, what would it be?”  

You chew at your lip again as you lean back in your chair and ponder his question. Why is it when people ask you these kinds of questions you always blank on the answers? Sun is ever so patient as he waits, moving in that idle animation next to the open window. 

Ah well, it’s not like you’re answering an interview question or anything. You wing it. ‘probably invisibility, or something. hbu?’ And enter. 

“Ooh! Invisibility!” Sun nods like he’s giving his approval. “Good in the right hands! I would want the power to read minds, I think! All the better for making fantastic friends!” 

You make a small sound at that. Well, you suppose that’s one way to make friends, albeit not a very… stable foundation to base a friendship off of. Sun proceeds with his next question. “This one’s a bit of a tough one! What’s your favorite word?” 

‘Tough’ is an understatement. You’re stumped. You rake through your mind for a word and draw up nothing but blanks. You’re certain you have one, but you just cannot think of it at the moment. Shrugging, you type ‘idk. i can't think of one rn, sorry. do u have one?’ 

His head cocks to the side, grin curling at the edges. “That’s more than one word, New Friend!” Sun replies amusedly, then laughs—a loud, tinkering thing that cuts off a bit strangely at its end. “Kidding! I’ll let you off easy for that one!” He is quite good at adapting to your responses, you note lightly. Very intriguing. You wonder how that’s coded. “My favorite word is supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!” You blink in surprise. The dialogue box is barely able to hold the word inside of it. You didn’t quite expect him to say that, of all words, though you guess it makes sense for him. Sun doesn’t elaborate, just transitions merrily through the next part of his script. “Now, for this question, I need you to be as detailed as possible, okay? It is”—he pauses for a second—“essential.” 

You nod, but it’s not like he can see you, so you end up looking like a fool. Sun stares straight ahead and it… it feels a bit like he’s looking directly at you. You shift uneasily in your seat and watch his eyes go dark along with his white rays and wide smile. Abyss-like. Something drops in the pit of your stomach at the abrupt switch. His smile widens. It cracks like he’s on the edge of something hysterical. And when he speaks, it’s in a low, garbled voice that grates at your ears. 

“Where.” He grits out. “Are—” 

He doesn’t get the chance to finish. A glitch encompasses his body that makes his rays twitch erratically and his limbs to jitter about like he’s being electrocuted. You jerk back out of surprise and consider exiting the hell out of the program. But then he’s back to normal like nothing had ever happened. White eyes stare up at you with an equally as white smile. 

“Oh!” Sun exclaims cheerfully, swaying about gently. You’re taken aback and, quite frankly, confused out of your goddamn mind. “Silly me, look at the time! I’m afraid our friendship will have to wait! There’s someone else who’d like to meet you!” 

“What.” You utter the word mindlessly, eyes flicking down to the time on your computer. 6:59 P.M. Time sure did fly by through all of… that. You’re not entirely sure what to think of it. 

“Talk to you soon, New Friend!” Sun waves a hand in farewell, then spins himself around in a little animated tornado. You can only stare, oddly transfixed and still utterly flummoxed, as he spins around, and around, and around until the clock changes to 7:00 P.M. and he slows to an elegant stop. 

Only, it’s not Sun you’re looking at anymore. 

The rays are gone, replaced with a nightcap covering his head that’s adorned with twinkling stars and a little bell at the end. All the yellows have shifted to greys, blues, and blacks, though he still retains the golden bells, red ribbons, and red sash. His pants are a midnight blue with the same circuitry design, and his shoes now have little moons etched into them instead of suns. 

This must be the moon, you conclude once you’re done observing him. The other half to the Daycare Attendant you remember seeing via advertisement—the one who’d been in charge of naptime. 

You watch as Moon seems to look around. You’re not sure what he’s looking at, but you can only wait. Gentle ruby eyes move from your desktop icons to the open window that Sun had been standing next to. His smile turns jagged like the outline of a mountain. And then—

And then he slinks away, disappearing straight off of your monitor without a second look. You’re left staring at the open window, the cursor still blinking in the textbox and awaiting your input. What… just happened? You blink at where he’d disappeared off screen and wait a few moments. But he doesn’t come back. 

What the hell?

Five minutes turns into ten, which turns into fifteen and then twenty, but he truly does not return. You’re stupefied. 

Maybe you should restart the program? You nibble at your lower lip and right click on the FazPals icon so you can end it and then boot it back up again. Your mouse turns into that loading circle of death, and you swear you’re not holding your breath in anticipation or anything, but it sure does feel like it. 

Loading… loading… loading…

…

Nothing. Zip, zilch, nada. Moon does not appear. You groan and scratch at your ear again, shifting your headphones. Day one of testing and you’ve already run into a problem. Great. Well, it wasn’t like you’d expected everything to be smooth sailing. Still annoying, though. Just in case, you try restarting your computer. 

It doesn’t yield any results either, and you end up just watching some videos as you wait to see if the bug will magically fix itself. Spoiler alert, it doesn’t and you eventually give up as the clock ticks closer to midnight.

But well—you think as you slowly pull up the submission form FazCo had sent you for your job to fill out—you suppose this is why the program’s still in the testing phase. It obviously has some kinks that need to be ironed out. Hopefully it’ll get fixed up in the next patch update. Until then, you’ll just have to deal with it. 

A benefit of working from home? You get to set your own schedule. A blessing, at times. 

That unfortunately means you have to stick to it while ensuring you’re properly taking care of yourself, and going outside to get fresh air, and also getting all the necessary work done on time, and also— 

Well, you get the point. 

You wake up groggy the next day and stumble your way out of your room, just barely managing to step over the little Roomba aimlessly bumbling down the small hallway. At one point it was another product you were testing, but then it was given the green flag for mass production and admission to stores. The company let you keep the one they sent you. It was a little finicky, but it worked just fine. You named it Chicken Nugget a while ago—Dr. Nugget for short, because a Roomba with a PhD was just too amusing to pass up. You’re still musing over what area its PhD is in.

There is much to be done. Dishes from last night need to be washed, food needs to be prepared to last you a few days, timesheets need to be filled out before you forget your hours. It’s easy to multitask on household chores while you do your job. You're on the beta testing team for quite a few companies, so you’re kept busy evaluating their programs and products while you julienne onions and clean plates. You earn enough to live comfortably, and it’s all you can ever ask for, really. 

Eventually, after a long day of being a responsible human being and submitting numerous evaluation forms for various applications, you plop down in front of your computer with your headphones and turn it on. Evening has just started to creep in, turning the sky into a picturesque gradient of burnt mandarin and dusty magenta. Your desk is right by a window, so it’s nice to draw the curtains back and let fresh air circulate around the room from it.

Alright, computer on. You type in your password to log in and wait as it finishes booting up. First thing on your list—check your email. There’s nothing of importance, not that you’d expected anything, really. Oh hey, you’ve got a discount code for your next purchase at your favorite pizza store. Sweet. You save it for later. 

All you have to do is test FazCo’s program and then you can relax for the rest of the night. You preemptively open up their submission form and minimize the window, then double click on the FazPals icon. Hopefully you won’t run into any problems. Code is weird like that—working perfectly fine at one moment and doing fuck all the next. And it’s always a pain filling those surveys out when there’s an abundance of bugs and glitches to point out. It’s simple, but oh so tedious. You guess that’s what you’re getting paid for, though. 

Blinking back to attention, you squint at your empty desktop then double click on the FazPals icon again. Ah, there you go. Loading symbol. 

Instead of the little music box like you’d been expecting, Sun comes into view by cartwheeling in from the side of your monitor. It’s silly and you smile slightly as he jumps up to his feet and splays his arms and a leg out wide like he’s about to fall into another cartwheel. 

“New Friend!” he exclaims loudly alongside the text in his dialogue box, rays spinning rapidly about his head in delight. You wince slightly and lower your volume a bit. No need to kill your eardrums. “You’re back! It has been twenty-two hours, nine minutes, and thirty-seven seconds since we last interacted!” 

Your brow raises at his precision, but what else did you expect from a computer program? Sun relaxes into his normal stance and leans forward eagerly. “So! What do you wanna do?” A small, labeled window pops up next to him for you to type in. One of his rays twitches slightly. “For a list of activities I can perform, type ‘/help’!” 

You’ve already forgotten what he can do other than walk around and talk your ear off, so you do just that and the window disappears. You didn’t even have to hit enter. 

Sun beams. “For your present and future reference, I can tell jokes, give fun facts, play games, and storytell! Pick your poison, New Friend!” 

You ponder for a bit, then type ‘can u tell me a fun fact?’ in the new window before it pops out of sight, again before you can press enter. Huh. You make a note of it mentally. The back and forth with the windows is going to take some getting used to. 

“I sure can!” Sun does a little wiggle and stands at full attention with his arms crossed behind his back. “Did you know that neutron stars spin six hundred times per second? Pretty cool!” He seems very cheery today. You’ll have to keep an eye out for any more of that strange glitching from yesterday. “Want another one?” 

Eh, you don’t see why not. You shrug and click the ‘Yes’ button when it appears. Sun gives a little salute. “The most water ever discovered surrounds a black hole about twelve billion lightyears away! It has the equivalent of one hundred and forty trillion times the volume of Earth’s oceans!” You’re starting to see a theme here with his fun facts and it honestly checks out. Sun’s rays spin a little to the right as he tilts his head slightly. “That was two facts in one, technically. Just for you! Don’t tell anyone!!” And then he winks, accompanied by a little star spinning out from his eye. It’s a small detail, but it still makes you smile. Consider you charmed. 

“Alrighty! I have an idea of what we can do next!” Sun says as he skips away to the edge of your monitor. You watch him curiously as he sticks a hand beyond your desktop—somewhere offscreen?—and starts pulling over a large open window from it. Like he’s unraveling a spool of paper. He drags the window over to the center of your screen, then wipes his face with his arm and takes an exaggerated breath. “Phew! That’s heavier than it looks! Luckily, I’ve got these to help me!” He flexes his stick-like arms dramatically, posing this way and that like he’s a pro wrestler. 

You notice, as he poses, that another small window pops up—indistinct and unlabeled this time with a simple textbox for you to type in. But he… didn’t really ask you a question or anything of the sorts for you to respond to? You eye it for a moment, then decide to type a little ‘hi’ in it to see if it’s a bug or something. After waiting a few seconds to see if the window will close again without you hitting enter, nothing really happens. Oh, is it fixed now? You hit enter and the text disappears, but the window stays. You guess it is. Code, man. So finicky. 

Sun stops flexing to shoot you a bright beam with a spin of his rays. “Hello!” 

Okay, maybe it’s not a bug if he can still process your texts. Shrugging it off easily, you turn your attention to the window Sun had pulled over from who-knows-where. It looks like your computer’s Paint app. How did he open that? ‘what’s that for?’ you type into the textbox.  

“This is for us to play some games, silly!” Sun brandishes his hands towards the Paint window like he’s presenting a masterpiece. “How does Tic-Tac-Toe sound?” 

Well, not like you have any other ideas for what to do. ‘sure, let’s play.’ 

“Faz-tastic!” Sun claps his hands, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a comically large wooden pencil from its depths. Seriously, it’s nearly the length of his arm. It’s like something right out of a cartoon and you grin at the silliness. He steps closer to the Paint window and draws four perfectly straight and intersecting lines—each of them the same length and splitting into the same sized boxes and everything. He then draws a perfect circle in one of the corner boxes and steps back. “Your turn!” 

You crack your knuckles and roll your shoulders. Okay. Time to lock in and kick this program’s ass. 

Except you don’t. 

You lose horribly. Seven times in a row, in fact. 

‘r u cheating? ur cheating, aren’t u,’ you type into the open textbox, which had remained in place all throughout your games. Unusual, but you’re not too bothered by it. After you lost the first few rounds, you started complaining to him using it. You figured you might as well. It’s almost like having a conversation with him and you’re pretty impressed by his verbal versatility. 

“Cheating?!” Sun squawks, offended. He splays a hand across his chest as he somehow manages to twirl his giant pencil in his hand like a baton. “A rulebreaker, I am not! I think someone is getting a little grumpy!” He gives you a pointed grin. 

You should have expected you’d lose to fucking A.I. software. You run your tongue over your bottom lip, where you’d been incessantly troubling it with your teeth throughout the rather merciless Tic-Tac-Toe beating you’d just received. You’re considering mentioning in the submission form that the program is too difficult to beat at games, but maybe you’re just that bad at them. Your ego’s definitely going through it.

‘i’m not grumpy,’ you grumble. Sun shakes his little digital head in good mirth, seeing right through you, of course. You switch topics. ‘let’s play something else. got any other games?’ 

“I sure do, Friend!” He uses his pencil eraser to clear the Paint canvas and starts drawing what looks like a game of Hangman. He gives you a sly smile. “Think you’re up for a real challenge?” Cheeky! 

After some rounds of Hangman and Pictionary (which, to your pleasant surprise, you’re not too bad at, but maybe Sun’s taking pity on you), Sun eventually closes the Paint window and makes a show of stretching languidly. “My time’s almost up, I’m afraid!” Sure enough, a quick glance at the time shows it’s nearing seven o’clock. Time flies when you’re having fun. “Make sure to stretch your back and arms out, Friend! Hydration is also important!” 

‘yes boss, u got it, boss,’ you reply before stretching out your arms. You have a water bottle on your desk that you take a quick drink out of, the liquid inside of the insulated material still cool and refreshing. You shiver a little and eye your window still letting the night air into the room. You should close that soon. And maybe turn on the lights so you’re not sitting in the dark illuminated only by your bright screen. 

Naturally, you do neither. Too much work right now.

Sun wiggles a little, then clasps his arms behind his back. “This was fun! I will talk to you tomorrow, Friend!” His grin widens, curling at the edges. “Don’t keep me waiting too long!”

And before you can really process the tone of that, he pulls out a red curtain from somewhere behind him. Shaking it out slightly, he pulls it up in front of him to block your view of his little figure entirely. You raise an eyebrow as the curtain wiggles and protrudes out like he’s changing into new clothes, before eventually it falls down and reveals Moon. His nightcap is pulled down to partially cover his glowing ruby eyes.

You lean forward in your chair, attention instantly grabbed. Will he work properly this time? You consider him for a moment as he simply stands there—sullen and, dare you say, annoyed. His eyes are narrowed and his mouth is pulled into a scowl. He shifts like he wants to move or leave, but something keeps him rooted into the same spot Sun was just in. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his pants (he has pockets??) and he slouches like a puppet cut from its strings.  

He’s not saying anything. Only glares off at a point somewhere on your screen. You bite the inside of your cheek and decide to take one for the (nonexistent) team. 

‘hi moon,’ you type into the textbox that’d remained even after Sun left. Pressing enter, you watch curiously as something tense seems to line Moon’s small shoulders and he moves his glare to the open window instead. 

His head twitches. “Hi,” he replies slowly in a raspy voice. It’s not what you’d expected, low and murmured like he’s speaking to someone in a dark and quiet corner. His gaze darts to the dialogue box that pops up next to his head and seems to narrow even farther. 

Oookay. He doesn’t say anything else. Is he still bugged or is he just programmed to be much quieter than Sun? You’re not sure if that makes sense for this type of program, though. You try to nudge the conversation again, thinking back to the list of commands Sun gave you earlier. ‘can u tell me a joke?’ 

Moon seems to look at you and it’s just as creepy as it had been when Sun did it. His scowl deepens. “No.”

You’re taken aback. No? Oh. Well. Maybe you should try something else? ‘can u tell me a fun fact?’ At least you know this command works for certain.

“No.” 

It’s like pulling teeth over here. 

You’re determined, however. This is your entire job. ‘what about a story?’

“No.” Moon bares knife-like teeth at you in aggravation and you’re tempted to do the same thing back. He doesn’t want to do anything! Something is definitely… off. You make a note of it to include in the submission form later. At least he hasn’t left your screen. You’ll take the win where you can. 

You’re stumped on what to do. The only thing you can think of is to keep inputting commands until something gives. Maybe things will sort themselves out? You try asking for a fun fact or joke again, but Moon still just scowls and answers in that same clipped manner. His fidgeting seems to increase. 

You’re getting close to calling it quits. ‘why don’t we play a game or something? tic-tac-toe?’

“P-Persistent little thing,” Moon growls into your headset and it’s such a reprieve from the constant rejections that you’re not even offended. You perk up slightly only to deflate at his following words. “Didn’t anyone teach you that ‘no’ means no?” 

‘no,’ you type as a response—partly in annoyance and partly just to be snarky. Moon twitches again, and then in the blink of an eye—he glitches. 

Similar to Sun, it spreads down his body in a wave and makes him jitter until he snaps back into place like a rubber band. He flexes his hands and takes a step to the side—tentative and exploratory. The window with the textbox pops out of existence and Moon gives you one final, narrowed glare before he just… leaves offscreen. Again. What the fuck?

You scrub a hand down your face and groan. You don’t expect him to return, but just in case you wait around a little and kill some time by filling out the submission form. Name, program version, strengths, encountered issues, and so on. You submit the form when you finish and roll your shoulders. Yeah, he doesn’t come back. At least there was some progress compared to yesterday. 

You end the day with a final squint at the FazPals icon and a shrug of your shoulders. Things could be worse, you suppose as you power off your computer and stare at your reflection through the dark screen of your monitor. Hopefully tomorrow brings more improvement. 

part two

[kentosbabes]

More bf-gojo? I loved the perfect combination of fluff and smut bits. ★

your wish is my command!!! hope you enjoy :33

Bf-Gojo who loves when you surprise him at work bringing him some lunch and just keeping him company till the end of his shift. Sometimes if you had baked batches of cupcakes or cookies you would bring all of them sharing them with people all around his building, Gojo just admires how kind and considerate you are as you offer your freshly baked goods to his employees. He would sometimes leave things at home and calling you acting all stressed just so you come and join him helping to relive his stresses in more ways then one.

Bf-Gojo who now joins you when you have an 'everything day'. He's sitting on the counter as you carefully paint on the face mask onto him, your brows furrowing with concentration. It gives him another excuse to stare and admire you for longer. He is also surprisingly good at painting your nails so you let him paint yours as you gossip to him about the drama in your office and friend group and as much as he hates to admit he gets so involved and even begins to share his own gossip.

Bf-Gojo who enjoys exploring the city with you going in and out of art galleries and museums. His hand in yours as you talk him through the art on the walls explaining in detail the backstory behind each one. If it was anyone else he would simply tune them out but with you he listens intently taking in every detail. He adores how smart you are and praising you the whole time your in the gallery. 'Your such a good girl you know that right' he would whisper in your ear the grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly as you exit the building.

Bf-Gojo who gets more cocky knowing your the most perfect girl and knowing your all his just boosts his ego so much. 'Oh your so smart, the way you talked about those paintings got me so riled up' he'd say kissing down your neck as you bounce up and down on his dick, 'Your so perfect and you all mine. isnt that right darling?'. only able to whimper in response Gojo smirks at your fucked out state. His hand grabbing onto yours and placing it on your lower stomach so you can both feel how deep he is inside of you.

Bf-Gojo who babies you when your sick. He's pulling out all of the stops running you hot baths, cooking you soup and watching shit tv with you never leaving your side until you feel better. Gojo defiantly calls Nanami for help asking him for the best remedies and how to get you feeling better asap.

Bf-Gojo who secretly loves when you praise him, even just when you say how proud you are of him once he's completed an important presentation or saying how good he is when he helps out with making dinner. Your words going straight down to his dick till he cant take it anymore and having his way with you. 'f-fuck toru your s-so so good to me' your praises only making him harder and he knows its going to be a longg night.

Bf-Gojo who does anything and everything to make sure your okay. Your heels are hurting to much? he will carry you home so you dont have to walk any further. Your having a hard day at work? he will be there picking you up and helping you unwind in a steamy shower.

Bf-Gojo who cant wait to meet your parents, although he's nervous he knows how much they mean to you so being able to meet them only furthers his desire to wife you up a soon as he can.

Bf-Gojo who teases you about the way you like your coffee, 'I love you but thats coffee not tea doll why you adding so much sugar and cream' he would say as he sits sipping his black coffee. He laughs at how defensive you get calling him the weird one as your cheeks begin to redden at his teasing.

Bf-Gojo who wants to just spend everyday with you cuddled into him as he draws patterns up and down your back, and when you get up to grab a drink your ass pocks out from underneath his top and he can just sit against the headboard hands behind his head admiring his perfect girl.

part 1 here

masterlist

[baby-yongbok]

Sunset

Bang Chan x Thick Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut, non idol

✨Masterlist ✨

Warnings: Unprotected sex (Wrap it up, guys), Cheating (Married reader/ Chan is dating someone) , Strangers to One night lovers, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Oral sex (M receiving) Slightly rough, Uh.. that’s it really? It’s just Smut, Sorry if I missed any tags. Explicit content so MDNI please.

Word Count: 2677

Note: First Person POV + This was something that I just whipped up real quick and wanted to share. It’s short compared to what I usually like to write but I thought you’d enjoy it! Just a quick smutty Chan fic to entertain ya.

Summary: The Sunset diner is your go to place to retreat, it allows you to meet new people while immersing yourself in the arts. It’s become your routine to relax at the diner every night and seek some...company. One night a new customer arrives and you just cant seem to keep your eyes off of him. You have to have him.

The Sunset studio and diner has always been a safe haven for me, ever since I was thirteen years old my step dad would bring me here and buy me a hot chocolate and two cookies before letting me roam around the studio and stare at the artwork in awe. It bought him enough time to smash whatever girl he picked up along the way in the bathroom then come back and act like he was never gone. I never cared, I was too fascinated with the artwork and the soft melodies of the guitars that the customers brought from home, or the grand piano by the entrance being played by whoever thought they were good enough to have the entire studio hear them. I was always amazed by those people, by their confidence, it was different from the kind that I possessed and I enjoyed being in its presence. No one has dared to play the piano in months though, not in my visits to the diner. 

"Thank you, Lali." I nod my head to the waitress that serves me almost every night and she smiles back as always.

I continue my watercolor painting enjoying the ambient sounds of guitars and what I’m pretty sure is a ukulele when suddenly I hear it. My head snaps up and my eyes land on the brown haired man focusing on the keys of the grand piano. Others in the diner still their movements as they stare, those who are sitting around me stop talking and listen to the melody that he's producing. He continues to play a song that I've never heard before, an original maybe? The beauty in the notes that he's playing makes me close my eyes as the music builds me up to a feeling of bliss that I haven’t felt in what feels like forever. 

As the piece picks up speed I start to wonder about its purpose. Is it an ode to tragedy or love? They are both one in the same in the end but I'd love to pick his brain. Suddenly the melody comes to a halt before he lightly strokes the last three keys. The sound of the last key drags out beautifully and applause erupts quickly after. The young man's head jolts upward and a small dimpled grin plays upon his lips before he stands and playfully bows before the studio. As the studio calms down I watch him carefully as he picks up his bag and makes his way to the counter to order a drink. I can’t help myself as I find myself ear hustling. 

"That was beautiful." One of the employees that I don't know that well raves. 

"Thank you, I appreciate it." His response is dry, he's uninterested. 

"Chan?" Lali calls from the pick up counter and I glance back to watch him pick up his drink. He smiles warmly at Lali but he's still uninterested, what is he interested in? He scans the studio searching for a spot to sit and I quickly continue painting. He makes his way past my booth and I decide to go in for the kill. 

"Excuse me." He turns around to me and his eyes soften once they land on mine, why's he so tense?

"May I ask what you got to drink? It looks divine." The same small grin as before plays upon his lips as he turns completely to me.

"An iced black tea with mint and cream." 

"Oh, wow that sounds as divine as it looks, thank you." His eyes stay on mine as I offer him a smile and for the first time since he's stood from the piano he seems interested.

"It's my pleasure, I can't help but notice your painting. It's beautiful, truly stunning." Tapping the end of my paint brush against the table I shrug at him. 

"It's alright, I'm experimenting with watercolor tonight. Would you like to have a seat?" I wave my hand towards the seat across from me and he kindly accepts. Sliding into the booth I get a swift whiff of his scent, a musk of some sort, Egyptian? Himalayan maybe.

"I'm not much of an artist, the world of paint intimidates me." He chuckles and I bring my hand up to rest my chin in the palm. 

"Funny, you don't seem like the type to be intimidated by much." His eyebrow raises at my response as he lets it linger, he clearly doesn't plan to ask what I mean. He's waiting for me to elaborate, but I'm not the type to volunteer information and he doesn't seem like the type to ask about it. 

"Do you come here often?" He asks disregarding my previous comment, I can't help but chuckle. 

"Every other week since I was thirteen, I upgraded to every day at 9pm a year ago." He shakes his head and sips his drink.

"I'm passing through this town, thought I'd look for a place to relax and stop driving for a while." 

"You made a wonderful choice stopping here, especially since you seem to be a fellow creative. That was a beautiful piece you played earlier." He nods and offers a quiet thank you. "Have you always played? Or have you just recently learned how to move your fingers like that?" 

There his eyebrow goes again, raised and displaying his curiosity. "I've always played." 

"Oh, how wonderful you must have such a careful way of doing things then. I've always found that those who play the piano are drawn towards the more intricate things in life." 

We stare at each other for a few seconds, both grinning and scanning each other. He breaks our gaze, sitting up straighter he pushes his drink over to me.

"Have a taste." His eyes meet mine again and this time I challenge his gaze, holding it as I wrap my lips around the straw and suck up the tasty liquid. "Don't be greedy, now." 

A small moan escapes me at the sound of his warning. Releasing the straw from my lips I grin at him. "Delicious, the mint is a really nice touch." 

"Would you like for me to get you one?" 

"No thank you, I like yours." The chuckle that falls from his lips stirs something up in me that I haven't felt in a while. He's flipping a switch that no one has been able to in a while and I am loving it. 

"What do you do for a living?" Eyebrows furrowed and both elbows on the table he awaits my answer. 

"I'm an art professor." There goes that eyebrow raise. 

"Professor? Excuse me for my rudeness but my curiosity is getting the best of me. May I ask your age?" 

"You may." He's visibly amused by my answer. He's clearly a bit younger than me. He's easy to get to but not too easy. 

"Twenty-five and yourself?" 

"Twenty-three" I knew it, experienced but not too much. "Too young for you?"

"Not at all, you'll be fun to seduce." There go those damn eyebrows, I wonder if he knows he's doing that at this point. I'm not mad at it, it's just interesting. 

"Seduce, huh?" 

"Mhm, I'm already turning you on." He leans forward in his seat and folds his arms. 

"How so?" 

" You like that I'm not easy to read, you're also into the fact that we both dabble in the arts of some sort. You're impressed by my age and my beauty, and you've been keeping consistent eye contact with me. Not to mention your manspreading which when across from an attractive female is an invitation to make an advance." He leans back against the booth, arms still crossed. 

"Are you sure you don't teach psychology?" Smiling in his direction I nod before checking the time. 

"Drive me home?" Checking his watch he keeps his eyes on me as I pack my art supplies.

"Is 11:15pm your cut off time here?" Grabbing his bag and finishing his drink he slides over to the end of the seat. 

"Not usually, but I have to get to the next step in seducing you." Laughing, he stands and grabs my bag for me. 

"I should've probably told you this before but I'm actually driving down to see my girlfriend." Shrugging my shoulders I pass him.

"And I'm married, your point?" Making my way through the doors of the studio I close my eyes briefly as the night air brushes my skin, the beginning of fall is always so relaxing. 

"This way." Brushing his hand along the small of my back he starts walking towards his black Mercedes Benz G-Class. I guess he's not bothered by my relationship status, I'm glad we're on the same page. "After you." Opening the door for me and placing my bag at my feet he closes it after me and I quickly do a breath and pit check before he gets to the driver's side. Once he's inside he asks where I live and I say nothing, looking over at me I meet his gaze and smile at him. 

"I never got your name.” he relaxes into his seat 

"Chan, and yours" I don't plan on answering him, it's actually best if I don't. His breath hitches in his throat as I begin to palm him through his jeans. 

"I like to think about how you'll recall this memory over the next couple of months." Getting on my knees in the passenger seat I leaned over to unbuckle his belt. "How you'll recall the blissful feeling of my mouth on you, the nameless woman you met at the studio." 

Unzipping his pants teasingly slow, neither of us break our continuous gaze. "How I'm so much better than the girl you're going to visit, sexier, more spontaneous. Has she ever sucked you off in your car?" He shakes his head revealing the obvious answer.

"I didn't think so." My mouth sinks down his shaft and he draws in a deep breath. His hand tangles into my hair and the other grips the steering wheel. He clearly hasn't received oral in awhile, I'd be surprised if he lasts longer than three minutes. 

"Oh my fucking god" He rests his head against the headrest and his grip on my hair gets tighter as I work his shaft, my tongue playing with the underside of his dick where his head and shaft meet, my favorite part of any man's cock. "You're pretty fucking good at that, baby." 

Humming in response I take his length deeper down my throat swallowing around him. I think that today I'll try not to use my hands, I'd like to make him finish strictly with my mouth. "Shit, babe let me kiss you." 

Humming in response I continue to work my head up and down his dick. "I said let me fucking kiss you." Pulling my head up off of him he holds my chin in place as his lips aggressively meet mine. Moaning into him I part my lips allowing his tongue to explore the depths of my mouth as he pleases. His hand explores my body, fondling my breast and Tracing the dips of my curvy figure. 

"You're a fucking slut aren't you?" Moaning at the sound of his husky voice I nod. "Finish a sluts job then." Pushing my head back down to his cock I open my mouth taking his member back down my throat. Groans and moans fall from our mouths as I sucked him, the anticipation of his sticky cum coating my throat excites me. 

"Just like that, give me all of that pretty mouth." His cock twitches in my mouth and I start to slow down eliciting a frustrated groan from Chan as well as a slap on the ass. "Don't you tease me, slut." 

Smiling slightly I pick up the pace finding my rhythm, it's not long before he explodes in my mouth gifting me with the taste of him. Swallowing every last drop I sit up and start preparing to make my escape when he grabs my wrist and ushers me over into his lap. Leaning back into the steering wheel I accidentally honk the car horn with my backside and we both chuckle after the surprise and panic subside. Adjusting his seat so that it's further away from the steering wheel and slightly leaned back I adjust myself so that I'm comfortable before crashing my lips to his. Grinding into him my skirt rides up revealing my bare ass and his hand wastes no time gripping a handful and landing a firm smack on either cheek eliciting a deep moan from me. Before I realize it his length slips inside of me filling me up and reaching every spot that I need him to. 

"Fuck, oh my god." Moans uncontrollably spill as he thrusts up into me. 

"What about you, huh? Are you going to think about the guy you met at the studio? How he seduced you just as effectively as you did him." Picking up his speed he finds a rhythm that is bound to make me cum early. " How he made you cum so quickly that you can't fathom what a night with him would be like." Just as those words leave his mouth my orgasm washes over me in a wave stronger than any man has ever caused before. 

"Or how about the way he kept you coming over and over again." One of his hands snaked down to my pussy and started aggressively rubbing my currently sensitive clit. The other hand lifted my shirt to reveal my bare chest, lifting his knee a bit and pushing me forward. He sucks one of my nipples into his mouth as he readjusts his other hand to replace his length with two fingers, as his thumb finds and rubs my clit. Bouncing with the rhythm of his fingers I end up riding his digits as my second orgasm crashes into me. 

"Chan" All I manage to moan out is his name, the only thing I can remember at this point is his name and maybe how to breathe but even that seems to be failing me at the moment. I climax for a third time and he releases my nipple from his mouth. 

"You look so pretty while you ride my fingers, go ahead and come for me again, kitten." I can't help but to completely let loose at the sound of him as my final orgasm rips through my body. I become limp on top of him and he slowly removes his fingers from me and slips them into his mouth. "Just as sweet as I thought you'd be." 

Littering kisses up my neck and cheek he lifts me up a bit to meet his gaze. "You better clean yourself up, I'd hate for your husband to start a fight with you and ruin your night." Smiling over at him I sit up and pull down my shirt. Then climb back over into the passenger seat and pull down my skirt. Chan fixes the driver's side chair and I wipe my mouth with my forearm, my formerly messy hair is still messy so that's not a problem at all. Suddenly Chan grabs the back of my neck, ushering my face towards his and our lips meet In a heated kiss. I let his lips linger and dance with mine for a while before pulling away.

"Thank you for seducing me." He smiles teasingly as I laugh.

"It was my pleasure." Bending down and grabbing my bag I open the passenger door. 

"Where are you -" 

"My husband picks me up from here at 12:10am every night." Smiling over at him I almost close the door completely before opening it again. He looks at me hopefully with those damn eyebrows raised and his small grin painted upon his lips, I felt a wave of heat wash over me and I couldnt help what I said next. "Y/n."

"Y/n, thank you." Smiling, I look down at my feet before closing the car door and turning on my heels heading back inside of the studio. Walking up to the counter I smile at Lali as she asks what I'd like. 

"A large iced black tea with mint and cream, please."

[redroomreflections]

Not Easily Broken Chapter 3

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha and Reader go through a tragic divorce

Masterlist | General Masterlist

3/10

Note: Yes, it's getting finished besties.

W/c: 6k (whew!)

TW: Mention of miscarriage

Natasha wasn’t your first kiss but she’s the first kiss that mattered. You can remember that moment like it was yesterday. The first time she placed her lips on yours. Eleven years ago if you remember it correctly. You had recently been appointed the Creative Director at Stark Industries. Besides Pepper Potts, you were Tony's, right-hand man. You were the woman in charge of overseeing every single creative process dealing with the multibillion-dollar company. You spent more time traveling and in the office than you liked but it came with its perks. With a great salary and good benefits package you wouldn’t complain at all even if most of your time was spent rolling your eyes at the ideas Tony would come up with.

You would see Natasha briefly during your time at the tower. She would be in the room one second and gone the next. It was only after getting to know her you realized that Natasha purposely distanced herself from everyone and everything. There were only three women in the world who could scare Tony Stark. Pepper Potts, Natasha Romanoff, and you. You’d giggle at every snide remark Tony would make only after Natasha had left the room. You would agree with her on many of the times she put him in his place. The more you saw Natasha the more you wanted to know the woman behind the moniker Black Widow. Without knowing why you made it a mission to see more of her. So, you dropped in on Tony more. You’d ask for Natasha’s input, always remembering to include her. She tried to hide the look of surprise when you would ask her what she thought. As if her expertise was only in the field of battle.

You made her laugh on every occasion. Your thoughts were consumed by the redheaded woman with the gorgeous smile.

As Tony’s employee, you were invited to his parties. Boy, did he throw a lot of them. Many of them you would skip. No one would miss you there. At least not that you noticed. It wasn’t until the night of Tony’s New Year’s Eve party that things changed for you.

You were dressed in a sparkly black number. The dress was short and backless. It hugged your curves in all of the right places and you looked damn good. You felt sexy and ready for the new year to come. There were a few men and women eyeing you all night. Some had even dared to approach you. You didn’t care about their advances. None of them interested you when the one you truly wanted was in the very same room.

Natasha commanded the room with her presence. Every click of her heels and sway of her hips left all eyes on her. She charmed the room. She chatted, made jokes, and even kissed Rhodey on the cheek under the mistletoe leftover from Christmas. Natasha was breathtaking and yet you could tell she wasn’t having a good time. She seemed stiff and on guard. There was a certain air about her that you weren’t sure if other people picked up on. Natasha was a spy after all so she always had to be alert. You could see the way she tensed when Richard Matthews, a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, placed his hand on her forearm as he flirted with her. Her eyes quickly cut to his hand before they flew back up to his face. She seemed to be analyzing his flirting but enjoying herself. She flirted back with him just as hard and for a moment you wondered if she would sleep with him that night. Natasha wasn’t yours. You were barely friends and yet the thought of her and that man being together made you sick. You felt the nausea roll over you and you excused yourself to the kitchen. Only a few of the catering staff remained as they packed up for the night. A cleaning crew would come to clean in the morning.

You waited for them to exit the kitchen before clutching the counter. You leaned your weight against it taking deep breaths as you tried to reel yourself in. You were in love with Natasha. You were in love with the Black Widow. A startling truth that had sent you spiraling. Before you could think any further on what this meant the sound of her honey-smooth voice caressed every inch of your body.

“Fancy seeing you here,” You could picture the smirk on her face as she spoke. You took another deep breath before turning to Natasha. She glanced behind her as the swinging door stood still again. Her eyes never left yours as her brows knit in concern. “Y/n, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You frowned. “I just..” Natasha waited expectantly for you to say something. She waited for you to tell her what was on your mind. You could come up with a lie and say you had too much to drink but nothing came out of your mouth. Before you could stop yourself you closed the distance between the two of you to hold Natasha’s face between your hands. You searched her eyes for any resistance, you waited for her to say no, but nothing came. Her breath caught in her chest as she waited for you to kiss her.

“Do it.” She dared you. You pounced with a fierce press of your lips to her. Your senses were overwhelmed with Natasha. She smelled delicious, tasted divine, and the feel of her pressed against you was heavenly. You were pretty sure you had died and gone to heaven as you lowered your hands to wrap around her waist. You pulled Natasha closer so that you were pressed chest to chest. The stilettos she was wearing worked to her advantage as she wrapped her arms around your neck. The sounds of the party fell on deaf ears as your tongue explore her mouth. Only when a moan left her lips did you pull back. Your eyes widened and you moved with an apology at the tip of your tongue.

“Don’t,” Natasha spoke softly. She tilted her head to kiss you again. “I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.” She whispered.

“Really?” You asked.

“Since the day I met you.” She shrugged.

“Well, why didn’t you say anything? Or do anything?” You asked incredulously.

“I dropped hints but you’re a tough nut to crack.” Natasha reminded you. Suddenly you were pulled back to all of the times Natasha dropped by your office. She was always around whenever you had a meeting with Tony. She even texted you to ask for your coffee order a few times. Now that you think about it, it didn’t seem like she did any of the stuff she did for you for anyone else.

“Oh.” It dawned on you. Natasha’s way of flirting was different from the Black Widow’s. Her display out there with Richard was vastly different from the way she handled you.

“Yeah,” Natasha half-smiled. You could see the slight nervousness in her expression. “I’ve never done this before.” She dropped her arms to her side. You immediately missed the contact. You wanted to have her close all the time if you could. “Dated without the expectation of sex. Most of my relationships were curated for work. I-I don’t know how to be someone’s anything. For you, I’m willing to try.” The vulnerability Natasha was showing at that moment made your heart soar.

“I’m willing to try too.” You told her. You reached out your hand and she took it. You pulled her back into you. You took the lead and wrapped her arms around your neck again. It was that night you knew you were a goner. The next few months you and Natasha were inseparable. You were on cloud nine when it came to Natasha.

Everything was easier with her. The two of you had your own traumas and insecurities to work through but it was easy. Loving Natasha was easy despite how much she insisted she wasn’t made for it. As your love for her grew so did your desire to marry her. Two years into your relationship you tied the knot. You bought the very same home you grew your family in. Five bedrooms, three baths, a nice backyard for your future children to play in. Life with Natasha was everything you ever wanted. You welcomed Ryan into the world two years into your marriage. Then Emma. Life with Natasha was magical until it wasn’t.

You don’t want to dwell on the ugly too much. At least not when you’re in the arrival line of Orlando International Airport. You do focus on how the rental you’re in smells “new car fresh”. You tap your fingers against the steering wheel hoping to stave off some of your boredom. You glance around at the moving cars weaving in and out of the line when you spot them. Your family. They’re a few feet away and it’s clear they don’t notice you. You can see Natasha instruct the children to wait there as she reaches behind her in search of her carry-on. She pulls out her phone to check what you assume is her Imessage app. She checks the phone and tucks it back into her pocket. She thinks you’re not going to show. When it’s your turn you honk the horn and pull in front of them. You unbuckle your seatbelt and park the car all within a few seconds. You make sure it’s safe to open your door before exiting the car.

Natasha’s look of surprise is quickly masked by something else. She thought you would send a car for them instead. There’s a cheer from Emma as she spots you. She jumps up and down in place as she hugs her blanket to her chest.

“Mommy, you’re in Florida too?” Emma asks as you plant a kiss on the top of her head. You give Ryan a kiss on his head before grabbing at their luggage.

“Yes, I am.” You smile down at her.

“You didn’t give Mommy a kiss,” Emma points out as you place their things gently into the trunk of the car.

“Oh, it’s okay, she doesn’t need to.” Natasha dismisses but Emma’s pout grows. You realized that you two should have talked about how you were going to handle things with the kids before now.

“But Mommy always kisses hello?” Emma reminds you. She’s confused. If you both were here in the same place it must mean you were going to be together again. That meant her mommies could kiss each other again. Right?

“Emma, remember what we talked about?” You’re not seriously going to lecture her about consent in the middle of the airport but she might need a reminder.

“It’s fine,” Natasha leans over to you, placing her hand on your forearm, as she moves to kiss your cheek. She leans back with fluttering lashes as she crosses her eyes to the kids. This was not a conversation you needed to have right now. You nod and she turns to them. “Mommy is going to show us around Florida. We’re going to be staying with her on our vacation. I wanted it to be a surprise for you.” She’s lying. If you know Natasha and you do, she didn’t tell the kids to protect their hearts if you changed your mind. You didn’t blame her.

“Yeah, I’m going to show you so many cool places,” You tell them.

“Disney World?” Ryan questions.

“Whatever you want.” You tap his nose. “Now what do you say we get this show on the road before Mommy gets a ticket?” You gesture over your shoulder to the airport police hovering a few feet away. You help Emma into her booster seat while Natasha helps Ryan into his. Soon enough you’re on the road and on your way to your hotel. The car ride is relatively silent. Ryan and Emma seem to be holding their own conversation about who they’re going to see when they go to DisneyWorld. You glance over to Natasha to see that she’s watching you.

“I’m really glad you came,” You inform her. “Thank you for taking a chance on me. Again.”

She shrugs half-heartedly. What is she supposed to say? Everything she wants to say would probably be best told when the children are asleep. When you’re alone. You turn back to the road to drive as you both listen to the kids and their stories.

There’s a bit of a problem when you arrive at the hotel. The rooms you got were connected by one door. No big deal. The first room was the one you’d been sleeping in since you arrived two days ago. It was equipped with a king-sized bed, flat-screen tv, and a very impressive mini-fridge. The second bedroom had two double beds and many of the same amenities. The rooms themselves were impressive. It was the kids who made things a bit more difficult for you.

“I want my own bed.” Ryan declared as he tossed his shoes somewhere in the corner. Natasha sighed from behind him as she grabbed the offending items to place them inside the closet. Emma followed after her brother as she plopped onto the second bed.

“I want my own too.” She smiled sweetly up at you.

“Um, one of these was for your mom,” You scratch the back of your head. Natasha’s eyes fly to yours. “I just didn’t want to assume that you wanted to sleep in bed with me.” You try to mumble but by the mischievous smirk on Emma’s face, she’s heard you. What was with her and this matchmaking thing she has going on? Ryan seems to be in on it too as he looks between the two of you.

“We think the kids should have their own room. No mommies allowed.” Ryan shrugs as though he’s not trying to hurt your feelings.

“I’m being kicked out by my own kids.” Natasha rolls her eyes. “I am fine sleeping there. With you.” Natasha tries to appear nonchalant.

“Okay, well let’s take your bags right in here,” You grab for one of Natasha’s suitcases and she follows you into the next room. The door is still open when you hear Emma’s little voice trail into your room.

“Do you think they’re going to make a baby?”

“You need a penis to do that,” Ryan tells her as if it’s obvious.

Your eyes widen and look to Natasha for answers.

“There was a kid, Connie Clark, in Ryan’s class who apparently had ‘the talk’ with her parents so naturally she came to school and told everyone.” Natasha wheeled her bag to the closet. “Which means Ryan told Emma which also means I had to have a very awkward conversation with them about their bodies, autonomy, and the very, very basic parts of where babies come from.” Right. Another thing you missed. While you did find it a bit funny it was only a reminder that you were missing out on a lot. Natasha and you have always had those conversations with the kids together.

“Seems there still may be a few things we have to discuss.” Natasha shook her head. She looks at the bed and the side you’ve taken.

“I can sleep on the pull-out couch they have,” You tell her, and she holds up a hand to stop you from speaking.

“Is sleeping with me going to upset you?”

“No, no, I just don’t want to move too fast with you and mess things up.”

“Well if all we’re doing is sleeping you can’t mess things up,” Natasha assures you. She moves to pull you to sit on the bed. “I came because I wanted to. I came because I want this to work.”

“Me too,” You confess. You find yourself focusing on her lips.

“You know I never did get a proper hello kiss,” Natasha says. She leans over to caress your cheek just as you turn to her. You don’t hesitate this time. Kissing Natasha was all you ever wanted to do. It’s the first time your lips have been on hers since the day in the kitchen. On Emma’s birthday. It lasts longer than you anticipated as you allowed yourself to get lost in Natasha. It’s the sneaky giggling from behind you that causes you to pull away. You can’t tell which one of them has made those obscene kissing noises but you’re sure you can take a guess. “Our kids are assholes.” Natasha opens her eyes slightly. There’s that glint of happiness in her eyes you haven’t seen in a while. Her guard is down.

“That they are,” You bring your hand up to Natasha’s lip to wipe your gloss from a corner of her mouth. Her eyes darken in lust and for a second you wonder if you’re going to survive the night with her in the same bed. You clear your throat and look over to the open door that connects your room. “Okay, you two, let’s get you fed. Where are we going to eat today?” You stand from the bed. You leave Natasha sitting there with her thoughts as you wrangle the kids.

******************

Lunch with the family is fun. It’s amazing how easily you’re able to slip back into your roles with them. Ryan talks to you about his new leggo set while Emma pretends she’s a queen as she sips her lemonade. Natasha is content to watch you interact with them both. They’ve missed you it’s clear and you’ve missed them just as much. There’s a message on your phone that chimes and you tuck it away for later. Whoever it is can wait. You took your meetings earlier this morning with the sole purpose of spending time with your family. Nothing would ruin this for you.

******************

The next destination on your list is the Sea Life Orlando Aquarium. You want to say you bought the tickets for the kids but you can feel Natasha vibrating with excitement as she grips your hand. Sometime during your entry into the aquarium, her hand slipped into yours and she never let go. The kids walked ahead of you as you entered the first hall. Seeing the kids happy with the sea life was amazing, seeing Natasha excited was an entirely different feeling. She didn’t have much of a childhood to go and do all of this. During the time you dated and throughout your marriage, there were times when you’d take her to experience things for the first time. The aquarium was her favorite. Despite how much she protested the idea of an animal she loved them. Especially sea animals.

The 360 aquarium proved to be the most fun as Natasha crouched down with the kids to point out the different types of fish. She smiled widely turning to see if you were paying attention as Ryan read from the information slate. It looks beautiful on her. Happiness. Her smile stops you in your tracks as you watch the way she interacts with them. The way she loves them. She guides them while reading about the fish whenever she gets a chance. You didn’t doubt that a lot of it she already knew. As you continued through the aquarium you almost expected Natasha to take your hand again and she did. It all felt right.

******************* It’s later that night that you feel the awkwardness of your situation. How even after nine years of marriage you’ve gone through a divorce that has changed the both of you. After helping Natasha put the children to bed you both go through your night routines separately. While Natasha is in the shower you check emails and answer back any that you find pressing. You roll your eyes when you find that Tony wants to put a real shark tank in one of his hotels. Totally not your problem right now. You send him a quick text before plugging your phone up for the night. You didn’t hear the shower shut off or Natasha exit the bathroom until she was sitting on the bed in a silk pajama set. It’s a plain shirt and shorts but it does manage to turn you on with the amount of skin you’re seeing. Natasha dries her hair with a towel and it’s then you notice her arms are more defined than you last remember them.

You move to sit next to her and she stops her towel drying to look at you. You take the towel into your hands to help her. She melts into you as she allows you to take on the task.

“Today was fun,” Her voice is raspy and filled with exhaustion. The activities of today are catching up to her.

“Yeah,” You say. When you’re done you toss the towel onto a nearby chair. You could deal with it later. You lower your arms to rest them at Natasha’s waist as you try to keep your composure. She smells like vanilla and coconuts. It’s only recently that she’s used a soap that has a scent. Being a spy she was always very diligent in not making herself noticeable in any way.

She stiffens in your arms just before she allows you to continue. With your left hand, you sweep her hair to her other shoulder to expose her neck. You press a tentative kiss against the flesh before trailing more down her shoulder. Natasha sighs as your touches become more firm. Your hands rub her sides and move down to the top of her thighs. You massage her skin as she leans further into you. It’s not inherently sexual but you can feel yourself becoming wetter just at the feel of Natasha. You dare to run your fingers up the leg of her shorts. Natasha allows you to. Her skin is smooth and soft under your fingers. At least until you feel the raised skin a little higher on her thigh. It’s at an awkward angle and it would be hidden behind her shorts but probably noticeable in a bikini. It’s higher up on her thigh. You feel around it feeling her once again stiffen as you try to assess the freshness of this wound.

“It was four months ago.” Natasha’s voice is devoid of any emotion. You furrow your brows. “I was in Madripoor with Steve and we took down a few guys interfering with S.H.I.E.L.D.’s database. Stabbed me right in the leg before he got away.” How didn’t you know this? Where were the kids at the time? Did she take care of herself while tending to them? “It’s old news. Seriously.”

“I’m sorry, Natasha.” You distance yourself more for her than you. “I’m so sorry.” You say for really no reason at all. You’re not the one that stabbed her or sent her on the mission. Natasha could take care of herself.

“Me too.” She whispers before she climbs into the bed. Your moment of intimacy is over and you know the both of you are too tired to discuss the implications of that. You hate that this even needed to be discussed. You felt like a stranger when it came to Natasha. She’s been through so much these past few years and you have a feeling you’re only scratching the surface. You climb onto your side of the bed, reaching for the string of the lamp to turn it off, as you think about just how much you’ve missed.

******************

The next day proves to be different for all of you. Work has you swamped with meetings that run over more than usual. There are only a few more days you have left here in Florida and you’d rather be spending them with your family. Disney World was supposed to be today. You promised them. Again. Yet you have to shoot a quick text to Natasha informing her to take them on her own as you don’t see yourself getting out of here any time soon. You don’t want to imagine how pissed she would be and how disappointed they would be.

You notice your phone go off throughout the day but you’re too busy to get into it. You know it’s Natasha keeping you updated. She’s probably sent you so many pictures and videos of the kids. Hopefully, you’ll be done with your last meeting in time for dinner. As a creative director, you can’t leave things to the other employees. Not like this. So you hunker down and keep pushing through in hopes of getting back to the hotel with your family.

It’s dark when you enter the hotel room. You cross the room to kick off your shoes before tiptoeing to Emma and Ryan’s bedroom. They’re fast asleep. Emma with her blanket tucked into her and Ryan with a new toy by his side. You kiss both of their heads before returning to your room.

You notice the balcony door is open and the cool breeze from there. Natasha is sitting in one of the chairs peering out at the pool below you. You’re on the third floor so not too high up but it’s still an impressive view. You decide to join her.

“Hey, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that would take so long. We had to go over contracts, marketing, things with legal.” You tell her as you move to give her a kiss on her forehead. You sit down in the chair beside her. Natasha glances at you for a second before returning her gaze back to the view. There’s a silence that sits between the two of you before she speaks.

“Did I make a mistake coming here?” Natasha asks. She picks up her glass of red wine to sip from it.

“What, Nat, no.” You tell her.

“Hmm,” She swallows the wine. She sets down her cup and looks over to you. “It shouldn’t hurt. I should be used to it by now. You are too busy for us. We don’t fit into this new life you’ve made and no matter how much you’re trying it’s just not working.” Your heart drops as you realize you really did mess up.

“I’m-”

“You’re sorry.” Natasha finishes for you. “I know. I think we would have been fine if you’d bothered to answer any of the texts I sent you. If you bothered to reply at all. I’m not pushy and I’m not clingy. You know this. I couldn’t help but feel I was back in that same space of being the doting and loving housewife who waits and waits and begs for their spouse to love them.”

“You don’t have to beg with me, Natasha.” You assure her. “I didn’t think it would bother you for me to give this one day. I mean this is a work trip.”

“That you invited us to.” She reminds you.

Right.

“I changed all of my schedules. The rest of the week is open to be with you guys.” You inform her. Natasha tilts her head to see if you’re telling the truth. You are.

“Can I ask you what changed?” Natasha suddenly asks. “What shifted for you? You had been creative director when we started dating. The past few years you’ve been distant. You can’t just say you’re busy. We’ve both always been busy.”

“Nat,” You sigh. You really didn’t want to get into this. At her look you know it’s now or never. “I don’t know.” It’s the truth. “After we had Emma I began to feel lost. I felt like I lost who I was and the only way to salvage that was work. I felt weighed down by something and I couldn’t quite tell what it was. We had opposite schedules and it all was just so easier to be at work and know my role there.”

“You felt like we weighed you down?”

“Nat, no, that’s not what I’m saying.” You shake your head. “I felt the opposite. I felt happy. I felt loved but I was afraid. That eventually I’d become the imposter that I felt since I was a little girl. Eventually, it would all blow up in my face. But it’s not so black and white. We grew apart for a bit. We distanced ourselves in more ways than one.”

“Right,” Natasha says.

“Natasha, you have to understand that while I take the blame for everything I’ve done you’re not as innocent as you think.” You want to take it back before you fully said it. It could have been worded differently. The look in her eyes tells you that much. Too late.

“What did I do? Please tell me.” Natasha sits up a bit straighter.

“Nat, I’m not trying to be combative.” You glance behind you to make sure the children aren’t coming. “I meant that both of us have had times where we were less than nice to each other. I remember that day a few years ago you came home and started arguments for no real reason at all.”

“There was always a reason.” Natasha frowned.

“So tell me what!” You say a bit louder than necessary. “Everything I did to apologize and make better it never happened. As much as you’d like to think that you were being the perfect wife there are moments where I just couldn’t make you happy. We didn’t know how to work through our problems. That much is clear. The entire reason for the divorce was to give us both that breath of air.”

“As if you didn’t have it before,” Natasha mutters.

“Fuck, Nat,” You cry out. “This is exactly what happens. You beat around the bush. You don’t say what you mean until you’re angry and ready to throw it in my face. Do you want me to say I was busy? Yes, I’ll admit that. Do you want me to say how I’ve disappointed our kids? I’ll admit that too. Do you want me to say that I’m the sole reason our marriage went to shit? Not going to happen.”

“That’s not what I want.” Natasha looks down at her hands.

“Then tell me, I’m not Wanda, I don’t. I can’t read minds.” You wave your hand for her to look at you. “If I did it would save me a lot of trouble let me tell you. What is it that you want from me, Nat?”

“I wanted you to be there,” Natasha shouts over you. “I wanted you to be there. Okay.” She’s speaking past tense.

“What, Nat, be there for what?” Your voice is lower and more hushed as you realize how broken she sounds. Her tears are falling quicker this time and it startles you. “Nat?”

She looks down at her hands avoiding your gaze as she speaks. “Do you remember November 5th a few years ago? I kept nagging you about an appointment we had.” You shake your head in the negative. “Well, I do because I programmed it into both of our calendars.” At your look of confusion, she continues. “You had an impromptu work trip and I figured you just forgot about the day and that I could just reschedule. But I had this bright idea and I went to the doctor’s alone.” Natasha rolls her eyes at herself. “So I went. I wanted to know for myself. Whether I could.” Natasha isn’t speaking in complete sentences which still leaves you a bit confused and you’re catching on quickly. Your eyes widen. You’re putting two and two together. You remember it now. The trip had been a month-long and had taken up all of your energy. You remember her calling you and you being excited about finally making progress with work. It takes everything in you to recall the way she sounded. Over the phone, Natasha sounded different but you thought she was just missing you. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“No, no, no,” You shake your head. You don’t know if it’s possible but your brain is thinking before you can stop it. “Please, Natasha.” You move from your chair to sit on your knees in front of her. Had she been pregnant? Did she miscarry? How could you not have noticed? You want to puke with the thought of Natasha clutching her stomach in pain as she lost her baby. Your baby. Alone. She can see the wheels turning in your head.

“It never happened.” She reveals. “Even after the reversal of the tubal ligation that the Red Room gave me, it didn’t happen. The doctor said that with my line of work and how much trauma I’ve taken to my abdomen even with IVF, the chances of it happening were slim to none.” She lowers her eyes to her lap. This is the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen Natasha and you know it’s taking a lot out of her to tell you this. “I just… I wanted to give you a baby.” Natasha blinks back the tears and your heart shatters instantly. “I wanted to feel them inside of me. I wanted my belly to grow too. I wanted that for myself and I know it’s stupid that I ever thought I could.” Natasha’s bottom lip trembles and you know she’s trying to keep herself from crying any further.

“You’re not stupid for wanting that, Tasha.” You reach your hand up to take hers in yours.

“Aren’t I? I mean, before I met you, I knew it could never happen and I was fine with it.” Natasha shakes her head. “I was fine with never having that. I resented you for giving me hope. I resented you for being what I couldn’t. That’s when the fighting continued. You didn’t notice and all I wanted for you was for you to hold me and tell me things were going to be okay.”

“And I just worked and worked and assumed that you weren’t happy because I wasn’t making you happy.” You summarize. Fuck.

“Please don’t blame yourself for what I just told you.” Natasha frowns. “ I didn’t lie. I was still happy with you. I still wanted you. I wanted that depression to go away and I wanted to forget I ever even tried. I wanted us to push forward.”

“Instead we became something entirely different.” You say. Natasha nods in agreement. “We were too many things at once without ever really being together at the time. We grew into something ugly and we never addressed it healthily. I became distant because I thought I couldn’t make you happy and then you thought the same. I just want to make it clear you’re not less of a woman than me because of this. I wanted you and still want you despite all of it. I love you, Natasha. I love you and I always have.”

“How do we fix this?” Natasha peers out over the balcony. “How do we fix us without falling into the same pattern?”

“We take it one day at a time.” You say. “We do the work. We stay honest. And I- I take off of work for a while.”

“What, y/n, you don’t have to do that.” Natasha looks at you again.

“No, I think I do,” You assure her. “At least for now. My family needs me. I want to be there for you.”

Natasha’s green eyes show just how much she’s hurt and heartbroken all at once.

“Okay,” She says finally. You stand to lead her back to the bed. She follows and waits for you to crawl under the covers. You raise the cover for her to climb in and you take her into your arms. She turns so that she’s the small spoon to your big one. She’s pressed so close to you and you never want to let her go. You can feel the sobs rack her body as she silently cries. You can feel your own tears drenching your pillow as you kiss the back of her head.

Marriage was hard. Marriage was tough. But so were you.

You and Natasha would work on things together. You would take it one day at a time just like you said.

---> next part

[armpirate]

I hate how bad I want you || Choi San

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

pairing: Choi San x fem!reader || Boss x employee

w.c.: 2.5k

Warnings: Suggestive, making out

Summary: You hated your new boss with your guts. The mere thought of being around him made you lose it. Or so you thought until you saw a side of him, and yourself that you didn't know of.

You loved your job. You genuinely did. When you graduated, you thought you’d have an awful position in a small company that’d kick your ass after a few months. But unlike your low expectations, everything turned up quite well for you. Of course working as a secretary, when you studied Business Administration, wasn’t the ideal, but for that moment, it was perfect. It was a job that helped you pay the bills -after you were stubborn enough to leave your parents’ house- and allowed you to save some money, your colleagues were great -you ended up befriending most people in the office-, and your boss was awesome. Mr. Choi would always try to be a resource of help for everyone in the company, especially for you. Although you were his secretary, he always tried to show you how upper positions worked, and what tasks they had. Kind of as if he were preparing you for any promotion that could come your way. 

The job was perfect.

Or at least it was before there were some changes, and your position was the first one to suffer a change. While others were transferred to a different area, or directly to a different office, you stayed in the same place -which you thought was great, because your building was only twenty minutes away from your home, by bus. The only difference? Your boss. You went from assisting Mr. Choi, to be his son’s secretary as he was going to join the company after graduating. 

At first, it didn’t bother you. You’d lie if you said you didn’t like the change. San caught your attention the first day he set foot out of the elevator, walking around like he owned the place while his hands were hidden inside the pocket of his gray thick long coat. Just like the rest of the girls in the office, you were part of the group that were drooling over him -except that you did it in secret, instead of being as open as them about it. Mainly, because you were his secretary, and you wanted to keep your job. 

But as time went by, all that attraction started being replaced by annoyance and disgust. You didn’t want to say out loud that you hated him -because it was such a strong word-, but thinking about having to see his face every time you looked up, because he insisted on you being aware whenever he needed something, made you think of calling in sick every morning. Sometimes you’d even think about quitting. 

Okay, maybe you did hate him. But it was justified.

You lost count of the amount of times he fucked up since he started working there, which have been only three or four months. And that wasn’t even the worst part. The problem was that he’d always blame it on you. If he forgot about a meeting, it was because you didn’t schedule it properly -and not because he didn’t check. If he sent an email to the wrong person, it was because your calligraphy was barely readable on those post-its. 

Every day there was a new problem. And, with it, a new excuse to back it up. The problem with that was that he made you look useless and clumsy, and that could affect you during the evaluations at the end of the year. And, unlike him, you needed the good results to stay in the company and be able to pay all the expenses that came from living -basically. 

You got there earlier -as usual. You’d get there almost half an hour before the office started welcoming your colleagues, so you’d have plenty of time to get everything ready, surrounded by silence and calmness.

Thirty minutes later, some people started coming in, barely muttering a low “Hello” if they happened to walk past your desk, a way of greeting that really contrasted with your friend’s, Yana, who would sing out loud while resting her weight near the corner.

“How did your weekend go?” but she didn’t want to know about the several tasks you did back home, or how you argued with your landlady -who wanted to increase your rent out of nowhere. Yana was asking about something more interesting, more juicy.

“It was okay” you shrugged. 

The date was fine, the guy was friendly… but there was no chemistry. Talking to the technician that repaired the printers was almost the same, which was disappointing. Because you genuinely thought there was something going on when you both flirted non-stop in the office.

“Just okay?” she sighed disappointed, standing next to you while she waited for a better explanation.

“Yeah” you nodded, but you knew it wasn’t over.

“Did you invite him to check your cave?” the way she referred to sex made you cringe, moving uncomfortably on the spot. The lack of an answer made Yana insist “A kiss?” she frowned.

But before you could tell her that wasn’t the place nor the moment to talk about that, your new boss made sure to let her know. After making sure Yana flinched enough to stand up, San walked over his desk. His attitude was so weird. Usually, when sitting there, he’d always throw a sided smile at you, and you guessed it was because he knew you hated it. But today he sat there, with his eyebrows frowned while his eyes were lost on his own desk. 

Not like you cared though. If that was a sign that it’d be a calm day for you, you weren’t going to complain. You saw him placing his glasses properly, reaching out to one of the papers so he could read it. 

Looking at him right now, you couldn’t deny the sex appeal he had. His harsh factions made him a man that was easy to slip your eyes to. Way too easy. The problem came up when he interrupted his silence to open his mouth. 

The sound of a notification in your computer made you go back to reality, moving your eyes away from him to focus on the screen in front of you.

Mr. Choi: Did you get everything ready for my meeting?

You: Yes, the samples are on the small table behind you, and I already emailed you the presentation. 

You didn’t need an answer from him to know whether he got it or not, it was enough with lifting your eyes again to see San turning on his chair to pick up all the bound samples and leave them on his desk. 

“Hey, Y/n” another voice got you to finally move your eyes away from your boss. Marshall was looking at you with a smile “I really enjoyed the other night”.

Did he? You made your biggest effort not to frown and show how you didn’t feel the same way. Instead, you tried to match his energy, smiling and nodding, and even lying saying you two should repeat it any time. 

Another notification from your computer interrupted your chat, making you turn to it momentarily to find out that -not surprisingly- your boss sent you a new message.

Mr. Choi: Get ready. You’re attending the meeting, too.

You avoided looking up to San, because you were sure that if you did, the first reaction from you would be showing him your middle finger. You had scheduled an interesting workshop regarding leadership, that was planned by his father, and you wouldn’t be able to attend because your new boss was dumb enough to not be able to do shit by himself. If he had told you earlier, you’d have registered on the one that took place in the afternoon instead, before the inscriptions closed.

“Ready?” you heard his voice over you, while you saw his gray suit behind your computer. “Also, Marshall, don’t you have something to do?” you looked up to the two men, seeing an expression from San that made you want to punch him. It was that arrogant look you knew too well. 

“Yeah, I’m attending the meeting in five minutes as well” he let him know with a smile. 

That answer was something San didn’t expect, and his reaction was curious to you. Because why was he frowning, and clenching his jaw over his employees doing their job?

Too late to backtrack on his decision of having you there, San just waited for you to follow him to the big meeting room. 

San’s attention during the meeting kept shifting to you, seeing how Marshall and you kept exchanging smiles and looks every once in a while. It shouldn’t bother him the way it did, but there he was, trying his best not to throw that man off the window for earning those accomplice gazes from you. 

“Break time” you heard his voice sentence. Looking up to him, you found him twisting his jaw while tilting his head. 

You didn’t know what bothered him, and it wasn’t like you cared either. Honestly, you were grateful for that break, because your body was craving some coffee before being able to keep up with taking notes constantly. “Not you, Y/n” he said, as soon as he saw your attempt to walk to the door. 

Giving you an empathetic smile, Marshall just left the room, while the rest of the attendees also left the room and closed the door behind them. And you just stood there, waiting for him to tell you what he wanted from you, or what he wanted to change in five minutes and that’d put you in a tough position. 

“I see you laughing a lot with Marshall” he mentioned, without even looking at you. 

You couldn’t describe your face at that moment. Both eyebrows arched, surprised by that comment, but also confused by the nature of it. Sure you were paying attention to what was being said, but you were only there to take notes, which you did. It wasn’t your fault that he read the slides you prepared, instead of coming up with something to make it more dynamic. 

“In case you forgot, we’re in the middle of a meeting” he raised one of his eyebrows over the frame of his black glasses. 

You scoffed, not believing you were receiving a lecture about professionalism from the least appropriate person for it. 

“You have something to say?” he asked, finally getting up from his chair and walking over to you. 

You wished you were able to bite your tongue, to form a tie with it so it wouldn’t spill more than it should. But you were so fed up with him, that having San lecturing you about your work made you reply back without giving it a second thought “Quite funny how you’re the one calling this out, as if you hadn’t done worse”.

San tilted his head, with a sided smile forming on his face before he spoke “Difference is that I’m your boss, and you’re my secretary. I can make as many mistakes as I want, you can’t”. By the way he arched his eyebrows, you knew he wasn’t done.

“So talking with a coworker is a mistake now?” you tried to do your best not to laugh in his face.

“It is if it distracts me” he stepped closer.

“For fuck’s sake, you get distracted by a fly. How is that my problem?” It was after exclaiming that, that you were finally aware of how close you two were. You could perfectly see the way his skin wrinkled on his frown, and could feel his heavy and thick breathing making some of your locks move. 

San analyzed your burning gaze, eyes dropping to your plump lips, before he gave in to his wild instincts. His lips captured yours in a rough way, trying to suck into your lower lip as if that would refrain you from pushing him away. 

A wet sound flew between you two when your hands, pressed against his chest, forced him to step back and break the kiss. You were ready to slap his face and leave the room, but something in the way he looked, how his lips were parted for more, built some type of electricity inside of you that clouded your judgment. Because you weren’t seeing your annoying boss anymore, you were seeing a sexy man that was giving you the most shameless of looks with his foxy eyes through his lenses. 

Your tongue clicked, scolding yourself for your thoughts, but also working as a sign of where you lost your mind. Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him to you so you’d be able to link your lips together again. His arms instantly moved around your waist, making sure your bodies were glued together. 

You were impressed. Completely surprised by the fact that a two second kiss did more for you than a two hour date. And, to top it all, all your senses went numb because of your boss, instead of everyone’s crush. But instead of fighting all your awakening needs, you just let yourself go, lost in the kiss that made your head turn in circles and turned your knees weak as jelly. 

Just like the entitled asshole he was, he dug inside your mouth without a previous warning, earning a gasp when his tongue pushed yours. You held onto his blazer when his hands started pulling your pencil skirt up, folding it until it barely covered your ass. His hands grabbed it, and you couldn’t understand it, but feeling his growing bulge against your stomach woke up something that you didn’t know you felt about your boss. 

His fingers moved lower, confidently traveling down your legs until they got to your inner thighs while his thumbs still pressed tight over your ass cheeks. One move from his whole body, and he already got you lifted over the crystal table with your legs wrapped around his thin waist.  

Your body reacted to every kiss and every move of his tongue, to his fingers rubbing all over your thighs to spread them wider so he could fit better -and, especially, to the dangerous situation you both were in. 

“I could fuck you right here and now” his raspy voice felt like the most torturous caress in your ear. “, but I’ve already been unprofessional enough, according to you”. 

Confused by his words, you felt his hands dragging your thong down your legs. And instead of being filled with anything that came from him, you felt the cold air hitting your sensitive spot when he stepped back. “Now go and tell everyone to come back inside”.

You tried to reach for your underwear, but his hand was quicker, moving it away before you were able to even touch it. Any hope of having them again disappeared when he saved them inside one of his pockets. “Are you fucking crazy? Give them back” 

“Take it as a punishment for being way too friendly with Marshall all up in my noses” he said, walking back to his seat to act as if nothing had happened between you two. 

Nothing could describe the anger you were feeling, and how you were ready to break each one of the laptops in his head. But you tried to keep your cool, placing your skirt like it was supposed to -thanking god its length was under the knee, so it was easier for you to hide the fact that you were wearing no underwear. 

You swore one of those days you’d kill him, and there was no way you’d feel bad in the slightest.

[isaidlandowecanbeworldchampion]

Pride and Prejudice Op81 x Reader

Part 1

A modern F1 take on a classic, hopefully living up to the expectations of @the-navistar-carol

A/n: 2005 Pride and Prejudice is fuelling me here, I hope you enjoy it though, its taking a lot of effort to translate the story into a more modern context

“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man, in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

Charlotte and y/n giggled together while looking around the room. As their fathers were employees at Mclaren they were often invited to the galas and events that the company held. This such event, to celebrate the 60th anniversary of the company, was not the first they had attended. 

Charlotte was the daughter of a Zac Brown and a longtime friend of y/n. They had grown up living near each other and had spent many galas in this fashion, drinking the free champagne and gossiping about the small tidbits they were told by their fathers. 

A hush fell over the room as two men entered the room flanked by the company's CEO.  One grinning widely and shaking hands with everyone he met, the other standing stiffly by his side and only offering a nod. Jane, y/n's sister appeared by her side.

“Who are they?” y/n whispered to Charlotte, not taking her eyes off the two men. 

“Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri, the two drivers for the Mclaren Formula 1 team” Charlotte answered quietly. 

“Norris seems nice, I suppose '' Jane whispered back, “Poor Mr Piastri doesn't know what to do with himself. Must be nervous” 

“I’d guess not,” Charlotte shot back, “Every time I’ve seen him, even in the company of few, He’s been the same. I think he is more pompous and feels he is above speaking to us mere people rather than his fellow drivers.” 

Oscar’s eyes slid towards the low whispering as the room returned to the usual chatter, unable to make out the words. He held eye contact with y/n, surprised at the lack of recognition he saw on her face. It was rare he met people at Mclaren who weren’t already aware of his position within the company. 

Y/n’s father appeared at her side. 

“C’mon then girls” He patted Jane on the shoulder, “I should greet Zac and I can introduce you to the drivers.” 

Y/n squeezed Charlotte’s hand to bring her with them and the group made their way towards the trio. 

“Zac!” y/n’s father called, “over here, mate” 

Zac turned towards the shout. “Bennett!” he cried, embracing the man.  “Lando, you already know Bennett, of course” He turned toward Oscar. “Oscar, Bennett is our lead aerodynamicist. He travels with us so I am sure you see him around a lot” 

Oscar inclined his head slightly at the introduction but did not offer any other greeting. 

“Of course you know my daughters Zac” Bennett turned back towards Zac and Lando, “Lando this is Y/n and Jane. I have three others but Mary tends not to enjoy these events and Kitty and Lydia are still too young” 

Lando smiled enthusiastically, “Lovely to meet you both. I must say you both look lovely, don’t you think Oscar” 

“I guess so” He answered, not sparing a glance at the two women. 

Lando and Jane were locked in conversation, barely sparing a glance at anyone else around the room.  

Y/n slid smoothly towards them, intent on getting another glass of champagne for herself and Charlotte. To her side, she could hear Lando excuse himself and make his way towards Oscar. 

“So many pretty women Osc.” He grinned, “Anyone catch your eye?”

Oscar tilted his head towards Lando, “You exaggerate, you are speaking with one of few pretty women on the premises” 

“You think?” Lando hummed, “ what about y/n? She’s quite pretty, from what I hear quite accomplished too”

“If you say so” 

As y/n stood next to the bar, waiting for Charlotte to return from the restroom, she spotted Oscar nearby. 

“Are you hiding too?” She turned toward him, smiling. “It works better if you've got a drink, easier to suffer through these events with a buzz” 

“I don’t drink, especially not this close to the season.” He answered sharply, not even sparing a glance towards the woman beside him.

Y/n turned away quickly and spotting Charlotte in the crowd made her way towards her. 

Later in the evening, y/n joined a conversation between her father, Zac and the two drivers. 

“And how are you finding it, y/n? Zac asked, turning his attention toward her. 

“Mclaren always holds lovely events, and you ask me that every time.” y/n smiled at Zac, before turning towards Oscar, “Even if there are so few pretty women on the premises.” She smirked at the young driver before excusing herself from the conversation.

Lando nudged the younger man, “You messed up, mate.”

Oscar answered sharply, “yeah, I got that,” staring after y/n’s reiterating figure.

[fillinforlater]

A mommy eunbi breeding fic, but a long one cause she wouldn’t just want to stop at just one, heheheheheh.

Eleven to One: Fulfilling Filling

Male Reader x Kang Hyewon, Kwon Eunbi

Length: 4922 words

Tags: rough sex, daddy kink, mommy kink, liquor play, threats and blackmail attempts, angry sex, dom/sub dynamic, master/slave play, pussy eating, curses and degradation, bend over, doggy, standing sex, denial to breed, slave!Hyewon, breeding kink, breed Eunbi, creampie, multiple orgasm, fucked silly, sex while sitting, riding, reverse cowgirl, tit play, tit sucking, ass eating, threesome, finger licking, Mommy!Eunbi

TW: rough sex, degradation, heavy dom/sub dynamics, impregnation

Inspiration: BREED EUNBI

Credit: @sooyadelicacies for co-writing. Good job, as always.

(A/N: 14 months since @dreamcatchers-husband dropped the request. Sorry for the long wait. I think three loads are enough for her?)

"Congratulations, Mr. Co-CEO."

Hyewon raises her champagne filled glass for a toast. Two glasses clink amongst delighted chatter, laughs, and general sounds of celebration. You return a kind smile before sending the expensive liquor down your throat in a swirl. You notice that Hyewon watches you intently in her professional, dark blue blazer. Suddenly, her hand is on your back and she pulls herself closer. A bit handsy for such a public setting, you think.

"And thank you for the filling, Daddy," Hyewon whispers, her ruby lips in a striking smirk.

"You're welcome, Mrs. Co-CEO," you respond and secretly graze her belly. It's a bit brazen, given that you are still in front of many employees and lawyers who helped to make this insane merger possible. They can feel the money already pouring in, especially because the conglomerate of your company and Hyewons is not a monopoly under korean law—

Your phone rings. Eunbi's number pops up on screen.

"Excuse me for a moment, I must take this call. Cheers everyone! Please enjoy yourselves."

You step out for a moment and answer the phone with a curious hum.

"Eunbi? What's up?"

"I know it, all of it."

Eunbi’s voice is demanding, yet something soft and fragile makes her seem like she can't hold herself back. Time for you to figure out why she is so on fire.

"You know what? I think I never told you the details of how to restructure two companies for a fitting merger," you chuckle and imagine Eunbi rolling her eyes, her fingers trembling as she tightly clenches her phone.

"Stop that bullshit right now. I know that you filled her."

You were stunned and moved further away and into a private room. 

"Eunbi, let me explain..." 

"Save it. How could you do this to Yujin?" she says upset. You're smarter than that. This blame game is something you’re quite familiar with. Ignore the Yujin stuff for a minute and decipher Eunbi’s tone. 

"You're not mad about that… you're upset because you’re not the first, right?”

"D-don't flatter yourself, asshole," Eunbi quickly shouts. You hit the spot, now it's time to poke her until she falters.

"You're lying to yourself, Eunbi. They all call you the M-word, but you're not the one becoming an actual mother,” you counter, quickly slipping back into CEO mode. You know how to turn this on her. 

"IZ*ONE… your precious IZ*ONE-girls. You miss them all, don't you? You miss not having a group around you. Sure you've done well enough as a soloist, and you have a dog who is always on your side. But let’s be honest, who doesn't? 

“No, it's not the same, is it? Because it doesn’t matter; it can never change the fact that Yujin, Minju, Hyewon, Chaewon—they aren't really your children."

Still no response from her, just the continuous heavy breathing from the other side of the speaker. Now you're really poking an angry bull that is ready to pierce you with its horns. But you're not scared of horns or bulls. Otherwise you would not be atop the food chain right now.

"A Mommy with no children, ts, don't make me laugh. You act concerned for Yujin, but it's just a front. Face it, Eunbi: with or without IZ*ONE, you're not even close to being a Mommy."

You might be right, but Eunbi wasn't a leader for nothing. She is still fearless, willing to fight back even as you wrestle her down in your heated exchange.

"My place or I am spilling everything to Yujin. I know you haven't told her yet. If you aren't here in the next 20 minutes, you can kiss your merger goodbye."

"Do you think that makes me scared," you respond coldly, "You can't force me to do anything. If you want to be a real Mommy, you gotta take a different approach."

Eunbi was backed in a corner and bested. She wasn’t even bluffing, but if you weren't afraid of the affair with Hyewon and the somewhat questionable merger becoming public, she had nothing on you. No final tricks up her sleeve, nothing she could use to get what she wants. Unless, her approach should have been different from the start.

"Baby,.please… Mommy needs you." 

Her tone becomes soft, motherly, and needy. Much more to your liking.

"Mommy needs me, aw~" you mock her tone yet won't hesitate in giving her what she so desires. "Mommy is going to get me. But it's on my terms. Frankly, I have something better to do right now. Wait for me till the end of the week, maybe I'll be free then."

Eunbi whines at the other end of the line. Inaudible phrases and sounds of disagreement come through the speaker but they are not even touching the surface of your resolve. You'll stay and celebrate.

You focus your mind on the task—or someone at hand. You need to celebrate the merger properly. Go back into the office room and gain everyone's attention by clearing your throat.

"I hate to cut things short, but we'll continue the celebrations later tonight at dinner. Miss Kang and I need to discuss some next steps going forward; if you could all give us the room," you say smoothly, a professional, genuine seeming smile on your lips.

Hyewon looks puzzled for a second, but after exchanging a couple of glances with her, she adds even smoother than you did:

"I already rented a hotel further down the street with a banquet and excellent wine. We'll follow after you, just make sure to leave something for us."

No further complaints, men and women in suits leave the office and their chatter fades away quickly. You lock the door behind them and Hyewon pushes a button instantly blackening out the windows to the room.

You look at Hyewon with lust. She is carrying your child, she has become fully bound to you, an unbreakable connection that glues companies together, but also a slave to her Master

"Hyewon, I need to fucking pound you in my office,” you emphasize and step in front of her.

"Yes, Daddy," Hyewon moans and drops her dress pants as she bends over, "Fuck your slut on your table. Make sure she is your breeding cow."

With a hand on her back you press Hyewon's upper body onto the stacks of paper and certificates. A half-filled glass with champagne tumbles to the floor, the other is saved by Hyewon who gasps at your fingers kneading her bare ass.

You admire the sight, feel the softness of her ass. It belongs to you. Firm, smooth, you can’t help but stick your face on it in wanton desire. Further below is the slit that you so clearly marked with repetitive, rough thrusts and cream filling. Before you do it again, you need a taste.

"I'm hungry. Daddy shouldn't go hungry, right?" 

You don't give Hyewon time to respond as you already access her holes and take a swipe of her pussy with your tongue. It's incredible that she is still this tight, her walls pressing down on your tongue as you take your licking session deeper for a minute. After hours and hours of breeding sessions over the last month, your big cock stretched Hyewon out good, but her insides are still godly tight.

Even better: it’s all yours.

You probably fucked Hyewon ten times more than you did Yujin over the last couple of weeks. Luckily you don't have to concern yourself with this now. Yujin is still occupied with shooting new episodes for her group. There is no reservation, neither in your mind or your heart thus you give Hyewon a firm smack and nibble on her clit.

"Daddy, fuck! Keep eating me, I am just a whore for you and your hunger. Oh shit, Master, give me more, please!"

"You're just a slut for your Master," you confirm her eager statement. You lips place kisses on where her pussy lips are exceptionally sensitive, and her clit is subject to constant teasing of your wet tongue. Your fingers dig into her pillowy ass, another tiny puzzle piece to make Hyewon cum.

"Master, fuck! Your tongue is so good, your mouth, I don't de-deserve this!

"I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm—"

You growl. Tug on her hair as you get up. Her face winces near yours, your fingers drag over her labia, but it’s purposefully restrained and not enough to push her over the edge.

"You're right, you don't. Why the fuck am I exhausting my energy in your pleasure? Doesn't Master's pleasure take priority? Whose pleasure is the only one that matters?"

Spit in her face. Hyewon's mouth barely produces a real word in between her never ending output of mewls and whines. You rub your spit over her cheeks and then to her mouth.

"M-Master..."

"Good whore," you say dryly, threatening without a threat. Reach for the not-broken glass and guide it to Hyewon's lips. "Open up."

The remaining champagne falls down Hyewon's throat as you force her head back to the point she can look up at you. She struggles with the punch of the liquor and its fizziness, yet you still reward her by drooling on her face.

"Really good whore."

"Thank you, Master."

Arms wrap around Hyewon's body, you squeeze her waist and chest tightly, fingers delicately placed on her throat. Eyes still locked, you firmly press your erection against Hyewon's butt, two layers of designer fabric between leaving her squirm in need and in pleasure.

"You want this, huh?" you growl, fingers ridding Hyewon of her proper breath.

"Y-yes, Master."

She struggles to keep eye contact, her nostrils widen and narrow rapidly in search of air. Spit on her again, unamused. Poor thing, it's not even her fault that Eunbi decided to be such a blackmailing bitch tonight. But this is what Hyewon signed up for. Literally.

"I'll give it to you, but first—"

You pull out your phone and let Hyewon breathe again. Open the camera and press it in her hand, before pressing on her throat again. 

"Film yourself. Tell your dear leader what you think of her being so greedy, needy, and bitchy about being bred. Do you think Eunbi deserves to be filled like you?"

"Master… a recording? Wh-what if someone finds it? I…" Hyewon hesitates, something you despised; disobedience, fear, caution.

"Do you think Eunbi will expose you?” you growl in fury. “Do you trust her this little? Even worse, why do you disobey me?"

Another spit in her face. The saliva on her face makes the celebratory make up run down her features from all sides in falls of pink, red and black. To say that she is a mess would be an understatement. Hyewon looks down right filthy.

"Why do you still disobey me, your Master? You’ve been bred, now show me your gratitude!" 

You roar and rip her outfit. You don't care about messing up your extravagant ten thousand dollar carpet, taking another glass of champagne and pouring it down her body. The need to suck her not yet filled, but still great tits overcomes you.

"Master, I'm sorry! I'll do as you say, ah!"

Bite her nipple, before more of the liquor touches your tongue. These things never come easy. It's always a struggle, the taming, then keeping them down. You’ve been through this enough times with her, with Yujin. Hopefully your future endeavors will be more relaxed, or else you have to change your strategy.

"Then fucking do it, or I'll never fuck you again. My God, I thought we got over this."

Hyewon's entire arm shakes as she tries to focus the phone's camera on her. In the meantime, your mouth moves down to her belly button and you suck all around it. Now Hyewon has not only her moaning, drooling, tearfilled face on video, but also her pink areolae and hard nipples atop voluptuous breasts.

You wait for the right moment as Hyewon struggles to keep her arm stable to record the message for her Unnie. She doesn’t deserve any easy out to finish this mission, so you strike at her pussy once more. Savor the juices on your fingers, before you plunge them into her. 

"Eunbi… I've been b-bred, by Master a-and…" 

Lick.

"Ah, I-I... Hng!"

Lick again and Hyewon almost drops the phone. You'd shout at her for the disobedience, but this is actually amusing.

"Go on."

"I-I... I'm his de-devout breeding cow and—ah, fuck!"

You begin to roughly suck at her clit. Hyewon starts to cry and wail in pleasure. Rouge, spit, tears and sweat make her face the penultimate canvas of messiness. Only needs some streaks of white on it.

"He-he is the best!" Hyewon screams out as you imagine finishing on her face to make it the perfect masterpiece to hang in a museum, "How d-dare you be a b-b-bitch to him, ah, how dare you— fuck, Master, I'm going to c-cum!"

"Don't, or you'll regret it!" You stop your tongue movement and only knead Hyewon thighs in a slow, annoyingly unsatisfying pattern.

"U-Unnie, you have n-no right to be bred. You're not a cow, and not a Mo-Mommy! Ah, fuck!"

Two fingers scissor their way into Hyewon's core and spread her pink walls with no regard to their natural width. The woman tumbles and almost falls to the ground, the dress pants still wrapped around her ankles. You catch her with a strong hand and slowly bend her over again.

"I think this message will do. Now send!”

Press her back down to emphasize your words, as if the rod poking her core isn’t enough.

“Your Master will rail you in this office, on every fucking surface. You're my little sex slut slave, aren't you? Dirty bitch!" 

"Y-Yes, Master, I'm so-sorry for being so–"

You pin Hyewon harder to the desk hard and your quickly freed, painfully hard shaft glides into this familiar cavern full of warmth, eager to milk you dry. Her walls are ready, but Hyewon's mind is not. Fuck it, fuck her. Your pelvis hits Hyewon's ass with such force, it sounds like you're whipping it. 

"Ma-Master, I—" Hyewon screams, her mind spinning out of reach for her to produce anymore words. It's all in vain, she is back to being the breeding cow, but this time her Master really treats her just like an object, a—

"Shut up, slave! Just moan, cry, whimper and make yourself useful with your body!"

You lift up one of Hyewon's legs and place it onto the desk. At this angle, each time you shove your cock into her, the entire wooden structure shakes and cracks. Pens and lamps rain down from the surface, your fucking is an unstoppable earthquake to these tiny objects.

Hyewon's juice becomes creamy, her voice a tad bit hoarse after countless screams. The orgasms you fuck into her soft pink hole make her seem more like an engaging fleshlight than a serious business woman. Press said fleshlight against a wall, her solid nubs thus feel the cold surface. Hyewon tenses up, her cunt grips but it can’t stop you. Spear her open and reach deeper thanks to the new standing position. Leave marks of your teeth on her shoulder.

As you continue to hammer into Hyewon, making her cry and scream profanities, someone decides to hammer the door. With wide open eyes of lust and rage you stare at the booming metal. The person on the other side does not show signs of stopping, another wave of hard knocks. What if someone heard you? Did you underestimate Hyewon's voice and the repetitive slaps of skin on skin? 

Or is it what you are hoping for?

"Come on in, Eunbi."

You smirk and Hyewon's eyes widen. You know that she hates being seen like this, especially by her beloved Unnie. Fortuna is ever in your favor. An equally abashed, angry, nervous and embarrassed woman pushes open the door. Before Hyewon can scream at the sight of her friend, you firmly shut her mouth with a palm. 

"Do you mind closing the door?" you say with a smug grin at an out of breath Eunbi. It looks like she doesn't want to comply, so you have to take different measures.

Grab Hyewon's waist, dig your fingers deep into the skin to form red marks, and turn her towards Eunbi. She wants to free herself but her struggle urges you to fuck into her again. Hyewon's resolve drops immediately and she cums almost instantaneously.

"N-no, U-Unnie, don't look, ah!"

"You better look at her, Eunbi! This could be you, but I bet you think you're better than this breeding cow. I don't see it. You lie to yourself, to me, and now you hesitate. Reminds me more of this bitch than a Mommy Mommy."

You're shouting stops as do your thrusts. Hyewon goes limp in your grasp and you let her drop to the floor like a disregarded sex toy. She searches for air, but more importantly, your cum. This time, you did not fill her pussy. There is nothing she can push back with her slutty digits.

"Ma-Master, please."

"You had enough already. I bred you constantly for an entire month. I bet you're pregnant already. Now, don't forget your fucking place, slave."

Hyewon looks down in shame. 

"Yes Master..." 

You focus all your attention on Eunbi now. She is where things get interesting, where your feelings and imaginations go wild. Sex toys and brats are great, but this older woman has a vastly different aura.

"Well,” you gently say, “what a time to come barging into my office. What is it that you want?"

"I want... I want..."

Eunbi stands in place, her feet unstable. She is swaying from side to side, unable to keep eye contact with you. She can't stand to look at Hyewon, but she is also unable to look away from the mess that you made her friend.

"Say it out loud, or I'm gone," you say with sigh, the tone of your voice more annoyed than threatening. "I'm getting soft at such hesitance."

"I want... you t-to breed me."

You smirk and sit down on your deluxe couch. This is usually the part where you make them drop to their knees and beg for your cock. They make compromises and say things they wouldn't have if you didn’t make them addicted to your cock. At least it worked like that with Hyewon, but Eunbi is so different. She already gains confidence, her steps more stable, her features soft, her body motherly.

"Baby,” she simply whispers and you're already in her spell, “Mommy wants you bad. Mommy wants to be filled, to be bred and to bear your children. 

“Won't you let Mommy be your slut?" she adds seductively.

"Ts, are you really a Mommy? I think you need me to do this," you slyly respond and put your hands on Eunbi's waist. You falsely assumed her approach had ended and that her resolve would crumble, but she quickly reaches for your shoulders, trapping you underneath her perfect frame.

"I know you want to cum in Mommy's pussy, I know you want to pump children into me. And I also know that you want Mommy to be a slut. But you have to ask me before you get it. Understood?"

You don't respond to her. To see what she will do next is just too intriguing to pass off. Like a tense, sexual thriller, you don’t want to know the end yet. 

“Don’t you want to make me a real Mommy? Say it, ask for it. My body is right here.”

"I don't have to ask for anything,” you say nonchalantly. “You're already here. In fact, maybe I'll breed all IZ*ONE girls before you. Hyewon, give Master a kiss."

Eunbi rolls her eyes and breaks eye contact to stare Hyewon down.

"Hye, don't listen to him. He has nothing on you and he definitely has nothing on me."

To your delight however, Hyewon does not hesitate this time. She gets off the floor, her knees still soft like warm butter from the rough pounding you gave her, and wobbles to the couch. She kneels next to you on the couch and takes your hand to kiss it carefully. Eunbi mewls in shock.

"Nothing on you, I see," you hum with a smirk. "Eunbi, if you're going to be a part of this I can't have you thinking that you can oppose me like this. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't smitten by you, but a good mother bearing my children needs to know her place in my domestic bliss."

With Eunbi's eyes in shock and awe, you put two fingers into Hyewon's mouth and make her slobber all over them. You watch her watch the woman become soft, weak like an inexperienced virgin. A virgin whose need to be bred excels all her other desires and logical needs. Will Eunbi go down the same way as Hyewon?

"You want to be their Mommy?" you suddenly whisper into Eunbi's ear as Hyewon willingly chokes on your fingers.

"Y-yes, of course." 

"Then admit it: you don't need to oppose me, to trump me, right?"

"Y-yes."

"Good."

Her fate seems sealed. Just another toy in your repertoire, with huge tits and the desire to have cum inside her cunt all the time. You’re almost disappointed, but Eunbi’s final ace puts everything upside down.

"If-if you breed mommy,” she slowly says, “I'll bring you Chaewon."

Hyewon is too engrossed by her Master to be shocked. Did you hear that correctly? Eunbi, the mother hen, protector of her IZ*ONE children, would serve Chaewon up on a platter to you?

"I don’t know if you have met her yet, but Chaewon definitely does not like you and people like you. The way you are, you cannot reach her, trust me. But I swear, I’ll do everything to make her yours. Chaewon can be headstrong, but she's a good girl—and now you can be a good boy for mommy, right?”

Her spell leaves you stunned for a second. New information is being presented to you like this. On top of it, a very questionable deal, the kind of deal you only strike in a dark room, no eyes to see, no ears to pry. Eunbi is something else.

"Chaewon, can she really be turned?" you ask, with the last shreds of doubt and retrieve your wet digits from Hyewon's lips.

"Am I their Mommy, or not?"

"I think you are, Mommy."

"Then come and breed Mommy."

You take a deep breath and watch Eunbi slowly open her blouse to free her bra covered bosom. The enormous breasts bounce as she continues to undress herself. Your need gets the better of you. 

"Mommy," you whine. It’s the same cry from your first meeting. You’re the boy again, humble and small to no one but Kwon fucking Eunbi who smiles victoriously. She is the winner of this square off, yet still presents a feast before you as if you were the one who won.

"Mommy, please..."

"Open wide~" Eunbi giggles and presses her bare breasts into your face. Blinded by the massiveness of her tits and too engaged in sucking and licking them, you don't notice Eunbi ridding herself of her pants until something damp rests on the head of your shaft.

"Good to see that you still like them. I know that the other girls have nice boobs as well.

"But none compare to Mommy's. Isn't that right, hm~?"

You're inclined to agree with her but not only her tits, also her wet panties rubbing over your semi-hard shaft leave you speechless. Eunbi continues her sweet hums. 

"Baby, you're so powerful, so aggressive and calculating…but that can be a lot, right? So you'll be good, relax and let Mommy take care of you.”

She disconnects her tits from your face to see you nod, greedy and needy for more of her soft pillows, but equally desperate to pierce her open and watch her wring you dry. 

"Don't hold back," Eunbi moans and pulls her panties to the side. "Relax and cum, cum many times in Mommy's pussy."

"Fuck, Mommy!"

"Ma-Master," Hyewon whines from the side, but Eunbi puts a finger on her lips.

"I know you're needy, Hye, but this—" 

Eunbi sinks on your cock, her pussy suddenly filled with what she was craving for for hours. She throws her head back and shouts the rest of her sentence skyward.

"—is for me, for my children."

"Oh fuck, Mommy," you exclaim, but Eunbi shushes you like she did with Hyewon.

"That's right baby, fuck Mommy hard. Fill me up as much as you want. Oh baby, once I'm pregnant, my boobs will get even bigger and they will swell with milk. Would you like that baby? To suck on Mommy's tits and drink my milk? I know you want it so you need to make sure I'm pregnant, breed me, breed Mommy!”

Your hips get a mind of their own. They’re thrusting up, without rhythm, but Eunbi adjusts her rhythm of bouncing on you to make her pussy suck you in with no disconnection. Meanwhile your lips search for her large nipples and the pink areola around it. You begin to bite it, suck it, imagining the milk coming out already. 

"I can feel you trembling, fuck, baby," Eunbi says and holds onto your shoulders for stability. "Cum in me, make me cum, but please cum, oh fuck!"

Eunbi wets the couch in a sudden, messy orgasm. Her squirts of warm juice make you lose control. That fucking thing, control, always in your grasp. But with Mommy, you lose it for a sweet, sweet moment. You pump your fertile batter into Eunbi and temporarily join her in deep moans.

"More, more!" Eunbi screams and continues to bounce.

"Mo-Mommy, Master," Hyewon whines, three fingers deeply penetrating her cunt.

"Baby girl~" Eunbi moans and reaches for Hyewon's hair. "Go lick Mommy's ass. I know you like that, filthy slut."

Hyewon's already red cheeks begin to burn. She is too embarrassed to look at you, probably hoping you forget what Eunbi just said. But you will make sure to remember this and try it on her soon. She gets on her knees behind Eunbi's ass and the Mommy immediately begins to groan in satisfaction. 

"Fuck, you're even tighter, Mommy," you groan in a mix of pain and bliss, the actions of Hyewon’s tongue immediately showing results.

"Her tongue is amazing, almost the best," Eunbi moans happily, her head still thrown back. You reach for her breasts, fondling the soft flesh to make your impending softness go away.

"How long until you get hard again, baby?"

"Different question Mommy: when will I get soft?" you respond with finesse and thrust upwards. "I think I can easily go for another round.”

"Then cum!" Eunbi shouts and pulls you into hug while fucking you with unmatched speed. The ripple of her thighs mirrors the ripples of your cock as you lose the ability to control your own orgasm. Let it go, it's an unrivaled feeling, as if a billion fireworks exploded in the most primal part of your brain. Eunbi made you skip the phases of overstimulation and recovery with her insane body. All features, inside or outside, are made to make you breed her.

"Mommy, Mommy, fuck, you're so tight!"

"Give me everything, e-every drop!"

She milks you, her hips still not stopping to pump as you dump more of your seed into her.  From in between your legs, you hear a faint disappointed sigh. Hyewon, her tongue still deep in Eunbi's ass, is unfilled, while her Unnie goes for another load. 

"You feel so good," Eunbi groans, eyes closed, fingers deep in Hyewon's hair to keep her steady. "I'm going to get pregnant, fuck yes!"

You shouldn't be able to do anything anymore. At this point, the limit of what a man can do should be reached. Countless of loads in Hyewon over the course of weeks, first her pussy, now Eunbis. It does not seem to stop, Mommy does not want to stop. Through heat and climax she fucks you silly.

Suck on her titties. That could have been an order from her, maybe it was, but you do it either way anyway. The numb tips of your fingers try to hold onto Eunbi's waist but she is too fast. You slip over her hips and onto the couch, unable to push her off if you want to.

"I know you can give me more, more cum, more children," Eunbi pants and pulls out your dazed head from her garden of melons to give you a sloppy kiss with too much tongue and too little oxygen. Her cunt gives you a final squeeze before your body raises the white flag.

"Mommy, I can't, I'm gonna—"

In a surprising twist, your balls hit Hyewon's chin as she sneakily went away from eating Eunbi's ass to licking tiny white droplets from the barely leaking slit. You got to hold on to this memory of your sack crazing her face as well. The excuse and the way you will punish her were neatly presented to you tonight.

But as you flood Eunbi's womb and sent her to motherly heaven with a perfectly timed, loud orgasm, who gives a shit if slaves defy masters and if Mommies break masters. Breed—the rest comes later.

[meetmypointlessaddiction]

Joel Miller x f!reader: Drunk

Summary: Your boyfriend is being a work obsessed dick so you send him out to get drunk with his brother. Warnings: Alcohol consumption, allusion to smut (i think?), soft!joel, drunk!joel, kind of asshole!joel at the beginning, Please let me know if there is anything that I've forgot to put a warning for. This has not been proof read so any mistakes are completely my fault. Enjoy and don't forget to reblog and like so that the algorithm can do its thing. Words: 1,3k

Joel Miller was an asshole to most people. To his employees, to people he saw on the street, he came across as an asshole but that was simply the charm of him. In reality, he was a polite Texan gentleman who loved his girlfriend and family but just so happened to have a resting bitch face and a natural dickish tone. 

To you, Joel Miller was a teddy bear. You made each other breakfast and coffee on a morning, got ready for the day together and once you were both home from work, you relaxed together. But ever since Joel’s construction company had taken off, relaxing evenings turned into you begging Joel to stop looking a blueprints and just pay attention to the movie for once. Instead of both of you destressing, Joel never stopped and you got more worked up trying to get him to relax. 

Eventually, you had to bring in reinforcements in the form of Tommy Miller. Tommy had planned a night out for the boys from work and Joel had been invited but had not so politely turned it down with the excuse of not wanting his boys to have to spend their night with him. Contrary to what Joel believed, many of his boys wanted him there. His quick wit and dry humour made him popular amongst his employees as well as the fact that he didn’t take anyone’s shit. If you aren’t doing your job, you faced the consequences but if you did your job well, you would roll in the rewards. 

“I’m not going.” Joel grunted as he sat back down at the kitchen table, documents piling high and his reading glasses sat beside them. 

“Joel Miller I will drag you into your brother’s truck kicking and screaming if I have to.” You threatened and Joel, like a goddamn child, fucking pouted. 

“Why? I don’t want to spend my night with them and they don’t-.” 

“You’re going. You’re going to get some alcohol into your system, socialise with somebody who isn’t me and I hope to god you come back drunk and without this new workaholic asshole that has sprouted.” You yelled and Joel fell silent, flicking through the pages of his paperwork. “And if you pick up that pen once more, I’ll fucking jam it up your asshole.” 

Joel smirked and opened his mouth to come up with some snarky reply but you were quick to cut him off. “And it will be the only form of action you get for a helluva long time.” Your harsh words seemed to put his brain back into gear and he sighed. 

“What time’s Tommy getting here?” He asked and you grinned, mood doing a complete 360. 

“He’s on his way, you look great.” You smiled brightly, brushing a few of his stray locks back into place and pecking his lips. “Enjoy.” He walked to the door, scowl on his face and Tommy couldn’t hold back his laughter as he pulled up outside his brother’s home. 

“I owe your girl $30. Get in, we’re headed straight to the bar.” Tommy cheered as Joel pulled himself into the passenger seat with a low growl, not ready for the night ahead. 

Somehow, drunk Joel was so much worse than sober Joel. Instead of making quick remarks at everything anyone said to him, he stared wistfully at his phone screen, head resting on one hand as he stared at the photo of you from a few months ago, his favourite one of you to date. “C’mon big brother, lighten up a little. She’s set some kind of reverse curfew, doesn’t want you back any earlier than 11.” Joel hummed in agreement, now scrolling through his entire camera album dedicated to you. 

Once Tommy had managed to get a few more beers in him, he offered him a game of pool and Joel seemed to brighten up a little bit, missing the days when he and Tommy would go to their local bar every night and shoot pool for hours at a time. “I’m pretty sure I beat your ass last time.” Joel teased and Tommy rolled his eyes. 

“You got years on me old man.” Tommy snarked back and Joel barked a laugh, racking up the balls while Tommy chalked up the cues. 

After a few games with varying opponents and a concoction of different drinks, Joel was ready to go home, Tommy more than happy being the designated driver. “She’ll be proud, it’s almost 12.” He chuckled and Joel shrugged, ready to go home and see his girl. 

Climbing out of the truck, he stumbled to the front door, looking for his key before almost falling through the door when it opened. “Goddamn! There’s a fuckin’ angel in my house. Tommy there’s an angel in my house!” You nodded your thanks to Tommy before he drove off and then led your man into the kitchen. “Hi baby.” He drawled and you couldn’t help but smile. 

“Hey handsome. You have fun?” She asked and he shook his head. 

“Kicked all their asses.” He slurred, almost falling against the counter as you steadied him. 

“Oh yeah?” Joel nodded and you handed him a glass of water watching his face sour. 

“No more vodka. Have to go see my girlfriend.” You chuckled and pushed the pill into his hand and nodded. 

“Well your girlfriend said this pill is gonna make you feel better and you need to drink water before we go to bed.” Joel thought about it and you knew just what to say to convince him. 

“She even said you might get lucky tomorrow if you take the pill.” You hummed and he threw his head back, swallowing the pill and then downing the water, slamming the glass on the side for dramatic effect. “And now you need to brush your teeth because I’m not going to kiss you with the taste of whatever ‘Tommy special’ you’ve been drinking. 

“Thought you like my kisses?” He frowned, eyes wide and you smiled. 

“I do baby but I’ll probably get drunk from one kiss and we only need one drunk in this house.” You teased, taking his hand and dragging him towards the stairs, doing an awkward shuffle to drag and guide him up each step. Halfway to the bathroom Joel stopped moving and you looked at him with amusement sparkling in your eyes. “Everything ok?” 

“No.” Joel grabbed your wrist and stomped over to the bed, flopping on it and pulling you on top of him, quickly flipping your position and resting his head on your chest, looking up at you. “Missed you.” He hummed, reaching up to press a kiss to your chin, leaning up on his elbows and pressing a multitude of extremely delicate kisses across your face. “I like you.” 

You staved off a laugh and smiled. “I like you too. Can we go brush our teeth now?” He shook his head, his eyes holding some kind of childish innocence to them as he pecked each area of your face. 

“I love you.” He muttered against your nose and you giggled. 

“Joel, I can taste the vodka on your breath. Please can we go brush our teeth. We’ll come straight back to bed and we don’t have to leave until tomorrow afternoon.” You tried but he just shook his head. 

“Sorry for being an asshole. Shouldn’t be working so much.” He murmured and you smiled. 

“It’s been stressful for you but it’s ok. We’ll get through it. Thank you for apologising.” You whispered and he nodded, going back to pressing kissed along your hairline. 

“You didn’t say you love me.” He mumbled shyly and you chuckled. 

“I love you with every atom in my body, Joel Miller. I love your grumpy looking face and your scary voice and I can’t imagine my life with out you but for the love of us can we please go and brush your teeth. You smell like you brought the entire damn bar home.” 

“Fine but only because you love me.”

[inkmonster21]

Sing for Me

8. Sponsored by the Devil

Cooper Howard × Fem!Reader / The Ghoul × Fem!Reader

She's a singer the nation adores. He's the actor everyone respects. What happens when these two get entangled in a heated affair? Passion, regret, rage, and even murder will commence. From before the bombs drop to the vast wasteland, these two souls live for one another.

Previous Chapter Series Masterlist

Tagged: @fallout-girl219 @harmfulb1tch @themadhattersqueen @one-of-thewalkingdead

AN: Not crazy about this chapter, BUT there is smut at the end so...

I sit at the bar watching the TV. A newscaster babbles on, “As all nations race to secure uranium and control the future of energy, a shortage has emerged, turning even allies into potential competitors. Will energy prices surge this winter and will it lead to an expanded war?” I chuckle softly with the shake of my head, finishing my drink. I see the familiar figure of my old friend. My old friend who sounds like he’s gotten caught up in the communist bullshit. “Sorry you couldn't make it to the party the other night, Charlie,” he looks at me with a blank face. “Guess you had one of your meetings, huh? One of your Communist meetings?” He sighs, taking the seat next to me, “Come on, man.”

“We watched people die together up north fighting against all that horseshit.” He shrugs, “Yeah, and for what?” I scoffed, “What do you mean, for what? For the American dream. We're actors. We make movies, Charlie.”

“Yeah, the American dream has me getting shot in the ass by you all day.” I roll my eyes at his excuse. “You got five acres in Tarzana. I think you're doing all right.” He shakes his head, “It doesn't matter, Coop. Vault-Tec's the fucking devil, man.” I weigh in. “Vault Tech is a shifty company. I’ll give you that. My ex-wife works there. She’s a lot of things, but the devil? Come on now.” “Do you know what "fiduciary responsibility" means?” “Fiduciary responsibility? No, I have no fucking idea. I play a cowboy for a living.”

Charlie goes on, “Okay. So, the U.S. government has outsourced the survival of the human race to Vault-Tec. Vault-Tec is a private corporation that has a fiduciary responsibility to make money for its investors. And how does it make money? By selling vaults.” “That's called capitalism, Charlie.” He continued digging, “But they can't sell vaults if these peace negotiations go through. So Vault-Tec has a fiduciary responsibility to make sure that it doesn't work out.” I can’t even wrap my head around his speech. “Yeah. How are they gonna do that?” He falls flat, “I don't know. You remember that movie we did with Johnny Morton… you were the sheriff and I was some generic Indian?” I disagree, “Come on, man, don't say that. Tall hand Mudlake could talk to horses. You played him with grace and with dignity. It was a great role for you.”

“Morton played a rancher who owned half of Missouri. And what happens when the cattle ranchers have more power than the sheriff?” “The whole town burns down.” “Right. Vault-Tec is a trillion-dollar company that owns half of everything. And after ten years of war, the U.S. government is broker than a joke. The cattle ranchers are in charge, Coop.” I wave at his words again, “Come on, man, you sound like you're in a cult.” He fires back, “And you're sitting here defending a system that's ready to set the world on fire, Cooper. Maybe you're the one in the cult.”

I look away with the roll of my eye. He slides a card on the bar. “Look. You should come to a meeting. You should learn the truth about where your ex-wife works, and what they plan on doing with their employees. For (y/n)‘s sake.” With one final smile, my friend leaves the bar. Leaving me confused and a knot rolling in my chest.

Why the fuck would (y/n) be or any danger with Vault Tech? I stare at the card and begin to dive down a hole I’d rather not be sober for. I raise my hand, gesturing to the bartender, “Bartender, can I get one more?”

~

I caved and went to attend Charlie’s meeting. It was a basic conspiracy for weak-minded individuals. She sits at the front, coffee in hand. “These soldiers that we're fighting abroad, their families, we have more in common with them than we do with the people here in power, the real enemy.” I shake my head, “That's about all the horseshit I can take.” I stand, place my hat back on my head, and make my way to the exit.

“Mr. Howard?” I stop as she addresses me. “I'm sorry, I didn't hear what you said.” I raise my eyebrows at her, “I said that um… this is about all the horseshit I can take.” She smirks, “I didn't realize that America's favorite gunslinger was so sensitive.” She earns soft laughter from her followers. “I have my principles, Miss Williams, that's all.” I try to leave once more but she begins the conversation again, “Uh-huh. And those principles of yours… how much did Vault-Tec pay to take them off your hands?”

“Well, this is America. Everybody has a sponsor, and, uh, I'm not ashamed to earn a living.” She bickers back, “Vault-Tec is the largest company in America. There's a lot of money in selling the end of the world.” I couldn’t take her words. I fire back to her, “Well, I'm sure there's a lot of money in selling a political ideology that ends in breadlines.”

As the crowd gets upset, Charlie stands and backs away with me, “Okay, uh, sorry, this was a mistake. We'll be leaving.” Miss Williams shakes her head, coming to stand. “Oh, no, I'm-I'm quite glad you brought Mr. Howard today. You see, it happens that I know your wife… or Ex-wife. And perhaps a side of her you don't.”

I walk out and she follows close on my heels, catching up by my side. “How do you know my ex-wife?” “My research company was acquired by her division. We were developing this kind of technology that's… difficult to monetize. Cold fusion. Infinite energy. Several projects were advancing. Synthetic creations. That's what I was on the verge of achieving when Vault-Tec swept in and bought up every company I'd ever worked for.” I stare at her with no hesitation, “Every one of them? So, what are you, a millionaire communist?”

“Hypocrisy is like violence in your movies. If you only let the bad guys use it, the bad guys win.” “Yeah? I, uh, I got a little showbiz secret for you. A good bad guy doesn't see themselves as the bad guy.”

She pushes more, “America has been locked in a resource war for over a decade. Vault-Tec bought the means to end that war, the same war you fought in, so they could put it on the shelf. All because it didn't fit into their business model. I want your help in getting it back.” She passes a small device into my palm. I roll the small object in my fingers, “What is it?” “It's a listening device.”

I nod, disbelief running through my mind. “A listening device. You… you want me to spy on them?” I chuckled softly, passing it back, “Good luck with the revolution.” She shakes her head, “You can keep it. As a token.” She sighs, “I'm not a communist, Mr. Howard. That's just a dirty word they use to describe people who aren't insane.” I meet her with silence. She speaks once more in a hushed voice, stepping closer, “I understand you have a fond relationship with Ms. (L/n). If I were you, I’d be keeping her at a distance from Vault Tech. They have plans for her.” I clenched my jaw, “what the hell are you on about?” She taps the small listening device before turning on her heel and returning to her meeting.

~

I sit on the couch bouncing my knee, paranoid, thinking the worst of what could happen to (y/n). They could kidnap her. Keep her trapped in one of those damn vaults. They could kill her!

To add to the stress, we were about to set Janey down and talk to her. I roll the divine in my pocket overthinking the worst. My nerves got the best of me, and I gave up, going to the pip-boy on the counter. The divide pairs within seconds. Just in time for Barb to walk out and retrieve the bulky oversized wrist technology. She straps it onto her wrist before looking at me, eyebrows raised. “Are you ready?” I nod, “Yeah. I'll be out there in just a minute.”

She nods and exits the house. I watch as she sits down with Janey. I place the listening divide in my ear, clearly hearing Barb and Janey from outside. Roosevelt whines causing me to shake my head. There was no logical reason to believe anything those conspiracy theorists had to say. “You're right, Roosevelt,” I tuck the small device into my pocket, “What are you thinking?”

Janey has to be the smartest, and most intelligent little girl in the world. I had been very honest in explaining how her mother and I just didn’t feel the same and how we were going to be living away from each other. She knew something had been off for months. She had no issue expressing her feelings and opinions on the scheduling. “As long as daddy and (y/n) can take me for ice cream every other Friday!” I smile at Janey, while Barb does not. She simply ignores it.

~

The sun rose on Saturday morning, kissing the land of California. I stand on the back patio with a cup of coffee just taking in the beauty. It had been a month to the day since Cooper and I started dating. Life was good. I was happy. He was here more days out of the week than not. I couldn’t think of a better day than today to tell him the news.

The sliding glass door catches my attention. Cooper walks out, coffee in hand and a smile on his face. He wraps an around around me, nuzzling into my neck. “Good morning.” It’s such a perfect paradise with him at this moment. “Good morning, love.” I lean back into him, rubbing my fingertips up his arm, tracing each speck and freckle. “I have a surprise for you.” He looks down, trying to find a hint within my soul. “What type of surprise?” I turn around in his hold, now facing him. “A good one. I think you’ll be pleased with it.” He trails a finger down the front of my chest, dipping into my robe, brushing my concealed skin. “Wouldn’t happen to be you would it?” I shake my head, moving out of his grasp before I get caught up. “Nope. Get dressed Mr. Howard because we are going on a little adventure.”

We both get ready and exit my house. I get into the driver's seat before he can argue. "So where are we going?" I smirk at him as I begin to drive to the secret location. "You'll see."

We pass the line in Bakersfield and Cooper looks at me, even more confusion in his eyes. 30 more minutes down the line we pull up to a gate. I flip the keypad and enter the entrance code. The large gate slides open and I drive up the start of a long gravel driveway. Cooper looks at the surroundings in awe. The lush land filled with vegetation, and life. "6 acres on each side. There's a big barn in the back. I figured Sugarfoot could have his own space." Cooper sits silently as we pull up to the large cabin. I park the car and turn off the engine. I exit with a smile. "Are you coming?"

Cooper gets out of the vehicle, mouth gaping as he tries to make sense of the situation. "What did… Is this…" I grab his hand, intertwining our fingers. "It's ours." I pull the keys from my pocket and dangle them in front of his face. "How did you do this?" I waved my hand at him, "It was nothing. Heather and her boyfriend are sold in California. I offered them my house at an amazing rate, and I was able to get this place up here."

I squeeze his hands with a nervous smile. "I knew this was a risk. A huge one, but I know we had talked about it before, and it was just the perfect opportunity. It just… felt right." Cooper finally breaks into a smile, he hoists me up into his arms. I laugh in surprise, "What in the world are you doing?" He smiles charmingly down at me. "Well, I'm carrying you through the threshold of our new home, sweetheart." Nothing could be better than this moment. He passes through the doorway, the warmth of the cabin enveloping us in its glow.

"What you say we… break in a few rooms? See if the acoustics are good for that angelic voice of yours. I want you to sing for me, honey. Just the way you know I like." He kisses up my neck mumbling into my skin. Room by room Cooper drew orgasm from me. Each one is stronger than the last.

He carries me from the kitchen counter to the long hallway, posting me up on the wall, fucking into me with long thrusts. I moan out loudly the sound carrying through the halls. Cooper smirks, biting his lip as he hears my echoed pants bouncing off the walls.

''That's my girl,'' Cooper rumbled out, pressing his fingers into my cheeks, forcing me to glue my eyes on him. I summoned every ounce of strength I had to begin lifting my hips away from him. I couldn't take anymore, and he knew it. The pressure eased as his girth slowly withdrew from the depths of my sensitive walls. He pushes me into the wall further, deepening his thrusts.

I mewled involuntarily to his sudden way to keep me still. ''I don't think I can-'' I managed to blurt out, despite the trembling rushing through my entire body as his strong hands held me firmly in place.

''Of course, you can, sweetheart.'' He cooed through a strained groan. The stretch of his length was just right, so satisfying that made me want to writhe and squirm on top of him, to lose myself in the rawness of the moment. The friction of our bodies, the sound of our combined breaths, the intoxicating scent of cigarettes and expensive perfume hanging heavy in the air.

''Cooper,'' I cried out from the immense fullness of his length, unable to contain the bliss as every nerve in my body was set on fire. One of his hands traced a path up the curve of my side, his touch sending electric tingles through my skin, each movement leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

He exits my heat, earning a whine from me. He moves us to lie on the sofa. He guided me to sit on his lap, lining his length up again. He kisses up my spine. He lifted one hand from my hip, a tender touch that trailed the expanse of my body until it reached my face and cupped my cheek to tilt my head downwards, coaxing me to meet his gaze.

Cooper leaned close, his breath warm against my ear, "Show me what a good cowgirl you can be." He murmured, the boom of his voice low and primal. As soon as he spoke those words, my hips jerked into action. I leaned back against his chest, grinding down on him, rising and falling on his cock like a bitch in heat.

''That's right, sweetheart,'' Cooper strained,  breathless mumbling reverberated through the warm cabin. He slipped a hand from my hips and with ease, he directed his attention to the most sensitive bud of nerves.

His touch met the tender flesh, I gasped at the sensation, the smooth pad of his finger gliding over the bundle of my clit. Cooper groaned from behind, ''You just keep riding me like that," He helped put motion into my movement. I was a mess, sobs escaped as the pleasure ripped through me.

I surrendered myself completely to him once more, needing nothing but him. Always him. Mustering up all the strength in my legs, I bounced on him even harder than before. My walls tightened around Coooper's length, and my climax finally burst. The waves crash causing me to see stars.

With each clench, I felt him twitch from inside. I lean back as he says, "Stay inside, Cooper." He sucked in a breath, biting into the skin of my shoulder. His thrusts are relentless as he pursues his release. All it took was a few more thrusts, and his body was convulsing beneath me, his movements seeming almost otherworldly while he emptied himself inside my cunt.

He lurched forward, dragging me close to his bare chest. He slowly rolled us over, his cock slipped free. I sighed heavily, but satiated and nestled into him. "Home sweet fucking home." Cooper leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. ''I say we broke in every fuckin inch of this place, sweetheart."

[deong]

keep going ㅡ karina x fem!reader

word count: 1.08k words

pairing: ceo g!p karina x fem reader

warnings: dom karina, sub reader, smut, dry humping, riding, fingering, cursing

a/n: its been awhile since i last wrote smut so bare with me. this is also my first time posting on tumblr, hello :-)

A loud sigh can be heard from one of the offices in Yu Enterprises’

Karina sat diligently working on paperwork in her office, long after most of her employees had left for the night already.

A sense of frustration filled her as she reflected on the countless meetings she attended since she arrived this morning. Glancing at the clock, it was nearly 1 am. Realizing she would be coming home late. She attempted to call Y/N, her wife to inform her but she didn't answer her phone.

Feeling exhausted, resting her head on the desk for a moment seeking a brief respite. Suddenly, the sound of a loud beep emanated from her office phone, prompting her to lift her head.

"Excuse me, ma’am. Your wife is here to see you" her assistant informed.

Karina pressed the button to respond

"Send her in"

You walked into the office, donning a not too fancy mid-thigh black long-sleeve dress. "I received your message. I'm sorry I didn't pick up honey, but I brought you some food!" you said with a smile as you held the packed food high before placing it on the table.

Karina looked at you with a helpless expression, feeling utterly fatigued and longing for a moment of solace in your presence.

"Come here, you can sit on my lap until I'm done working with this"

Rolling her chair away from the desk. You obliged, smiling to yourself as you walked over and settled yourself on her lap. She wrapped an arm around your waist, holding it close like a seatbelt. While she glanced at her paperwork. A gentle kiss on your cheek affirmed her affection.

"I'm almost done," Karina assured. To which you just nodded understandingly.

"Take all the time you need, baby"

Karina continued working for the next half an hour or so, but suddenly her mind drifted elsewhere. By "elsewhere" meaning the sudden wetness she started to feel transferring to her wide-leg office pants.

Hands absentmindedly explored your body, caressing your thighs. She leaned back, whispering

"I can feel your wetness darling"

A statement that soon after came a chuckle from Karina. Slowly, she ventured deeper, asking "Do you want me to stop?" You shook your head, conveying her consent.

Messing around in your wife’s office is not a rare occurrence. It’s not like she doesn’t own the whole company building anyways but perhaps tonight would be a little different. As it’s not as isolated before.

Karina started to unzip your dress, watching as it fell revealing your bare shoulders and the loosened strap of your bra. Placing a soft kiss on your shoulder, her hand reached its intended destination.

Pressing her lips against your neck slowly, she savored the soft moans escaping your lips. Intertwining your hands in her hair.

"Your panties are so soaked, baby" she whispered, making you bite your bottom lip in response as she played with your wetness. Driving you insane.

“Stop teasing me already” you breathe as tried to get friction by humping her hand.

Moving your panties aside, she suddenly slipped two fingers inside eliciting a loud moan. "Shit," she exclaimed.

Her other hand then roamed your chest, finding your breasts. Multitasking, she planted wet kisses on your lips, all the while massaging your breast and rhythmically thrusting her fingers in and out of you. Each thrust caused your chest to rise and fall with pleasure. "I want you inside me," you moaned. Removing her fingers, you unbuckled her pants and pulled down her boxers.

"Sit on me." she instructed as you stood up, discarding your panties and slowly positioning yourself onto her member. A soft moan escaped her lips as you sat down. With a firm grip on your waist, Karina began bouncing your slight frame. Observing the made satisfying clap sound with each impact. "Fuck, baby." she groaned, tilting her head back and running her hand through your hair.

"You're so tight," Karina moaned as you continued to bounce. "Only for you." You whispered. One hand slipped beneath you, eagerly fondling your breasts. She then stood up, pulling out and putting away all the paperwork on the table.

Walking behind you, she observed as you assumed the position she wants: bending over the desk.

Grinning mischievously, she commented "You already know what to do," chuckling as a smirk formed on her face highlighting the mole below her lips.

She entered you, thrusting fervently. The room filled with your combined moans and the rhythmic clashing of your bodies against one another. Leaning down Karina planted kisses on your back and left a trail of hickeys.

"Faster" you groaned.

"My pleasure," she replied, gripping your shoulder and gradually increasing the pace. Your whimpering and moaning echoed through the office as you held onto the desk for support. She pulled out and instructed you, "Lie on your back."

Complying you settled on her desk.

Hooking your legs over her shoulders, she penetrated you once more. Relishing in your loud moans. Placing her hands on the desk, she thrust vigorously.

"Oh my fucking God! Don't stop!" your sweat-soaked bodies molding together. Inclining her head, she planted soft kisses on your lips while your tongues danced in a passionate frenzy. Your hand clutched her neck pulling her closer, while she felt her member repeatedly stimulate your sensitive spot, eliciting even more moans.

That was your sweet spot.

"Do you like that, princess?" she inquired. "Yes" you barely let out as you nodded. Lifting you up, she hooked her arms under your legs, your calves resting on her shoulders. Karina continued her intense thrusting, feeling your walls tighten. "I'm going to cum!"

"Me too!" she moaned. Pushing herself to the limit, she thrust harder and faster finally reaching her climax. "Fuck, Y/N I'm cumming!" she shouted as she released inside you, her muscles tightening.

After experiencing the bliss of your connection, you two remained in that position for a while. Both enjoying the afterglow. "Do you think your assistant heard us?" you wondered, your body twitching slightly as she slowly withdrew. "She probably left soon after you entered" she smiled at you.

You sat up, pulling her closer. Your radiant smiles filled the room. Embracing the tender moment, you gave your wife a peck.

"I'm hungry now," Karina playfully remarked with a pout, causing your laughter. "You're always hungry" as you both dressed. Settling on the couch in her office, you covered yourselves with a blanket, indulging in the meal you had brought along.

[therealhousewifeofharrystyles]

Harry’s Home

(PART I.)

Pairing: Roommate!Harry // Nameless 1st-Person Femme Protagonist

Word Count: ~ 12k words

‼️Mature/18+‼️

⚠️ Content Warnings: Adult Language, Lots of Flirting, Pining, Love/Hate Dynamic, References to Body Weight (“Chubby” Reader), Body Objectification (M & F), References to Masturbation (F), Mentions of Body-Type Biases, Alcohol Consumption (Legal & Responsible Drinking), References to Ovulation & Implications to Breeding

**ANY & ALL IMAGES USED ARE NOT MINE**

Likes, Comments, Reblogs, and Follows are 100% welcome 💕

Weeknights deserve more credit. For many of us, it’s the peaceful resolution to our day. It’s the time when we come home after being excused from our lectures or meetings, or when we clock-out at the end of our shifts. We’ll safely make it back to our comfort zones and our open time slot can be occupied with whatever we want. Those few free hours are sacred. They give adults a necessary recharge. Personally, I share my humble homestead with an egotistical, British businessman—Harry Styles.

Harry was employed as a marketing executive for a unisex fashion brand located in Portland, Oregon. ‘Vol. 6’ started out as a small business, and had recently made waves in the industry with its diverse designs and overall style inclusivity. The company’s roots were planted by a few local, starving artists who set up an online shop with the most modest of intentions. The amateurs were blindsided by how their ideas blew up in overwhelming popularity via the internet. It was like winning the lottery. They eventually accumulated so many orders that they needed to expand their operations—hiring an A-team of designers, tailors, and legal professionals(for copyright purposes, of course). International sweatshops and inhumane labor conditions were far from what Vol. 6 sought to create. And so they stayed in Portland—keeping their focus upon ensuring exceptional product quality, as well as enforcing flexible, comfortable, and progressive working environments for its employees. Although an underdog in the fashion scene, Vol. 6’s excellent reputation continued to soar without a hitch. It turns out that a cohesive process of structured business management and clever marketing can be achieved without sacrificing empathy, creativity, realness, or substance. The only disadvantage is the limited supply of merchandise whilst there’s a metastasizing demand. It’s not like this kind of business structure is rare. High-status designer brands have been known to keep their stock low—or at least that’s what they say—for their popular items to seem more valuable and special. As an operation that works against those capitalist games, Vol. 6 values employee and customer satisfaction over profit. The company’s active attention and true kindness are what separates them from the rest.

So, as I mentioned before, Harry is a part of Vol. 6’s marketing team. He often collaborates with the designing team when he’s working on new promotions or adverts. Creative cohesiveness is essential to successful marketing. Hence why Harry and Mitch became close friends as they had consistently developed ads together for a couple of years.

Some have referred to the boys as yin and yang. One of the two tended to present himself as intimidating and pretentious, whilst the other was comparatively quite mild and personable. It was a mystery how these men befriended one another instead of becoming enemies. Harry was the type that wanted to complete tasks his way, and his way only. In total contrast, Mitch liked spontaneity—preferring to ‘go with the flow’ rather than planning ahead. That method of living was despised by Harry. He was set in his ways. It didn’t make sense to him how his friend could act so unbothered by the world’s chaos. Maybe it was just his hot temper, or maybe it was the way his natural responses to conflict were either instigating a verbal quarrel or using bitter humor as a defense mechanism…but Harry just wasn’t a people person. Mitch had thankfully brought him out of his comfort zone a few times—reminding Harry of his university days when his mates had turned him into a womanizer. The results, however, differed from those times due to Harry developing a bleeding heart as he progressed through his twenties. He was open to new experiences and fun banter with strangers as long as Mitch accompanied him. And so they became somewhat of a package-deal. Well, at least that had been the case before Mitch started dating Sarah Jones.

Harry had nothing to dislike about Mitch’s girlfriend. They got along just fine. However, Mitch became less and less available to Harry outside of work…Which meant Harry wasn’t going out much, and that was his issue. Of course he was happy for his friend—Mitch was supportive of him when he was in a serious relationship a few years back. There was no reason for Harry to be bitter. I personally believe he was just lamenting; that he was struggling to accept the fact that life would no longer be the same as it was. He looked back to when he was working towards a degree and reminisced about how he felt more socially fulfilled from living with, and eventually befriending, complete strangers. Those college memories had been the stepping stones of Harry’s development into true adulthood. He had no intention to ever stop growing and improving as a man. Thus why Harry sought to make a big lifestyle change in order to work towards branching out on his own accord. No more was he to reside in a bachelor-pad apartment with a shitty landlord who had never fixed the rattling air-conditioner. He was going to move somewhere more permanent. A place where he could enter his thirties as successful, single, and not lonely. A housemate would solidify the latter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Having met him briefly a few times, Sarah recognized a few of Harry’s traits as noticeably familiar. She knew someone personally with identical mood swings, a goofy laugh, and an annoyingly specific taste regarding every little thing. The combination of resemblances felt bizarre to witness up close. She felt like Harry had been performing as some sort of parody—speaking in hyperboles and absolutes as a joke. But she soon realized she was wrong and that he was just like that. Reacting emotionally was actually his genuine response to any sort of change. Sure, she’d interacted with the moody type before. She’d also certainly met plenty of picky control-freaks. Only, the person Harry reminded her of was unique in that she was entertainingly campy, yet sincerely empathetic; and Harry was the same. That person who’d come to her mind was me. And as soon as Sarah heard the news that Harry was looking for a roommate, her ears perked up and she reached out to me immediately.

But I guess I should probably explain the origin story of Harry and me, together, in more detail…here, I’ll start over:

My introduction to Harry was when a friend of mine, Sarah, gave me the news that her boyfriend’s officemate, Harry, was looking to lease a new place. The house was located in a nice suburban area just outside of Portland. Seeing that the neighborhood had been on the upscale side, he wanted to find a roommate to split the pricey rent with. Me, working full time and desperately seeking a replacement for living with my parents, saw this as the golden opportunity to finally have true independence. My initial excitement almost deterred me from wondering whether this ‘Harry’ dude was decent, or reliable, or if he was just some complete prick. I’d never met the guy. I didn’t know a single thing about him besides his name, and yet I’d already begun to mentally pack my bags. I still should’ve had more reservations about it. But then again, I was already aware of how uncomfortable living with a complete stranger was—thanks to college life in the U.S., of course. Also, Sarah’s boyfriend, Mitch, was (and still is) a respectable guy and I was sure he’d only surround himself with people of the like…logically speaking. After all, he was my closest friend’s boyfriend. If Harry stepped on my toes even once, Mitch would endure a hurricane of wrath from my Sarah.

The added layer of safety provided by my best friend’s loyalty was comforting. But this was still a gigantic step for me as a young adult. I’d be actually moving out of my parents’ house entirely for the first time ever. You could say I was blissfully naive of what challenges and obstacles my future held. Apart from all my idealistic daydreaming, I couldn’t help seeking a clearer picture of who Harry actually was (literally and figuratively).

Sarah had given me a basic description:

“He’s a sweet guy. But he tends to act kind of… ambiguous at times? His vibes go back and forth, you know? Kind of unpredictable. Hot ‘n cold…” she trailed on.

Ok. That obviously required significant elaboration—of which she’d eventually come around to providing after I sang the classic Katy Perry lyrics she’d unintentionally referenced.

“…Yeah, yeah, yeah…” She dismissed me, my sing-songy tangent coming to a giggly close.

“…But I’m serious—Mitch has told me all about Harry’s passive narcissism and how much of a stubborn grump he can be…I don’t know, maybe it’s a British thing. A stereotype, I know; but he switches from sarcastic to compassionate on the flip of a dime…” Sarah rambled.

I squinted at her and shook my head in disbelief. This was starting to sound a little sketchy. A grumpy, moody, narcissist? Awesome.

“Psh, so he’s a crabby geriatric divorceé? Wonderful…It’s no wonder he’s got that old-timey name, to boot. The guy just needs a caretaker…also, why would Volume 6 hire an old dude to handle their marketing campaigns..?” I joked.

Sarah shook her head and laughed as if I’d just said something utterly ridiculous.

“HA! Oh, god…I’ll have to remember to tell Mitch all of what you just said.” Sarah wheezed, entertained by my very false assumptions of Harry.

I blinked at her, not understanding why she found what I said so funny.

“…You have it all wrong, babe. He moved here from the UK, like, 10 years ago I think? Mitch said he hopped around from LA to New York City, then from New York to…um, well…to here, in sweet ole Portlandia.” She concluded.

As a young woman in her early-twenties, I wasn’t very enthusiastic about this living arrangement coming to life.

The look on my face must have revealed my doubts because my friend chuckled, waving her hands around for emphasis, and quickly clearing the air for me.

“Wait, wait, hold on! Before you tune out—He’s in his late 20’s! Just realizing how weird that sounded…Yeesh, I’d never let you live with some stinky, old, Englishman, you dummy!”

Phew…That sounded much better. It wouldn’t be too different from living with my older brother, then. But that one word, ‘ambiguous’—it wouldn’t leave my mind. Adjectives like that just leave too much to the imagination…well, to mine, anyway. What was Harry being all ambiguous about? My overzealous curiosity pushed me to spiral, conjuring up whatever dirty secrets that would be instant deal-breakers for me…

Did he smoke inside? Did he hate cats? Dogs? Or worse, was he the leader of some creepy murder cult? And if so, would he reserve our living room for their weekly meetings?!

...Would I be spared as a sacrifice because of my not-so-virgin blood?

Was he a fratty douchebag who peaked in college and succumbed to alcoholism?

Was he the type who’d refuse to be my roommate once he saw that I wasn’t a size-00? Would he feel catfished and tell me I looked “bigger in person?” …Not like that sort of thing really mattered to me—I’d just heard that before from a few guys around his age who were surely expecting to be faced with some petite porcelain doll…

Anyway, I guess I just hoped he’d be direct enough to tell me…you know…anything worth mentioning before I’d officially become his roommate. For all I knew, he was probably just a snobby little brat with an annoying, pompous accent.

Amidst my internal ramblings, Sarah added that Harry was a perfectionist.

So, I was right—he was a brat.

I wanted to stay positive, though. Maybe he was just a neat freak, and that’s what Sarah was implying. I mean, that didn’t sound too intolerable, right? And if he was moody, maybe he’d just keep to himself most of the time. I was perfectly fine with that. I tended to keep to myself most of the time, too...though, I never thought of myself as that moody…

Whoever he was, I just crossed my fingers that he wouldn’t have any attitude similarities to Simon Cowell. Just imagining that possibility made my head hurt and my self-confidence plummet. Whatever. That was probably unlikely, right?

Nonetheless, I was desperate for answers. Sarah just shrugged at me and told me to look him up myself if I wanted to know more. And so, I went to work.

Who was Harry Styles? Aye, that was the question…sorry, I’ll continue:

Doing some basic Googling, it seemed that Harry was at least somewhat active on social media…enough that he wasn’t untraceable, at least. This was one of those (very)few times where I was legitimately grateful for the existence of online social platforms. I scrolled and scrolled, and clicked, and scrolled some more…for probably 3 solid hours. Daylight had actually run out by the time I’d realized how badly my corneas were stinging. I’d looked at myself in the black reflection of my phone and could see the popped blood vessels in the whites of my eyes. At least I found what I was searching for.

Luckily for me, his—albeit, ancient—Facebook page looked genuine and free of any red flags. To my dismay, I had to send a friend request and a follow request to his socials in order to actually have access to the profiles. Did that make it obvious that I was in the middle of e-stalking him? Quite likely, yes…But I’d let my excitement and curiosity overtake my sense of self-preservation that night. Tiptoeing around so I could naturally stumble across a morsel of information would’ve been agonizing. My main objective was more important to me than playing mind games with that stranger, Mister Harry Styles. I wanted so badly to free myself from the confines of my childhood home, regardless. Ugh! I was the only one in my friend group who still lived with their parents, and the lack of privacy only weighed heavier on me as time progressed. My dear friend, Sarah, kindly gifted me my long-awaited chance at freedom by sending Harry’s offer my way, and I wanted to run with it.

Yes, I may have been diving face-first into a serious commitment with a complete stranger. Sure, I’ve never lived with a man who wasn’t related to me. And, yeah, I was nervous that this guy was going to reject me because I was younger, eager, and…kinda on the chubby side, to be honest. I know, I know…

My size shouldn’t matter, I knew that, and I still know that. It never truly matters. I knew my situation wasn’t the same as meeting a lousy Tinder date or whatever, but I felt paranoid regardless. All sorts of men have burned me in the past with their shallowness, so I wasn’t about to hold onto a false guise of confidence just for my big break to disappoint me in the end. The age difference felt somewhat significant on top of that. I’d been made aware that Harry was a few years my senior, but it didn't bother me. I hoped it wouldn’t bother him, either…that, and everything else about me, of course…I just had to wait and see.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He accepted my friend/follow requests immediately, and I dove head-first into research (lowkey-stalker) mode. From awkward prom photos and blurry, live music performances, the innocence of his Facebook profile finally put my worries at ease. His most recent profile picture was of him, his mother, and his sister. The candid, selfie-style photo successfully pulled a smile out of me. It’s not a secret that there are wolves in sheep’s clothing out there. But my gut assured me he was safe—that he was a decent guy. The back and forth comments on those family photos were friendly enough for me to assume a close bond between the two siblings, especially. My cheeks started to ache from my incessant smiling and giggling. The pictures were just so cute, I had to message Sarah about it.

[Text Messages]

Me: stfu this guy is adorable 😫

Sarah: HA I’ll have Mitch let him know u think so 😏 ❤️

Me: Oh my god, fr pls don’t

Sarah: Too late 😉

Me: Alrighty 🙂 Brb…gonna go play in traffic 🤪

Sarah: Ur such a drama queen lol

Me: Yep, that’s me 😚

Sarah: xoxo 😘💋

** one week later **

Sarah told me Harry was a bit different than the way he seemed in those family photos. She said he had tattoos and that he was a total frat boy at heart. All shyness aside, “…his true colors shine their brightest when he’s riled up…I’ve seen it. Little crabby pants man-child.” It was safe to say that Sarah was explicitly giving me a warning for Harry’s hot temper. I looked past it at the time because–as a sensitive crybaby myself–I assumed he was just in-tune with his emotions. I saw nothing wrong with that. I actually found it to be quite refreshing. A handsome man who isn’t an emotionless narcissist or a bird-brained himbo? Sounded pretty exciting to me! I looked forward to possibly cohabitating with someone who had a solid connection to their empathetic side.

Also, basically everyone and their mom has a tattoo or a sleeve. Harry wasn’t different or special in that way to me at all. I completely shrugged it off. Who cared? Still curious as all hell, I scrolled around for a link to his Instagram. The link was right there on his Facebook profile.

Nice.

This is just too easy, I thought. I’ve got all this information on this man at my fucking fingertips.

Wow wow wow wow…

So, uh…Needless to say, Harry presented himself as a little less, um…well, I definitely wouldn’t have pegged him as a “mama’s-boy.” I mean, it wasn’t like he was unrecognizably different or anything. Sarah’s depiction of him, although vague, was right on the nose. All of this was meant for research purposes only. But it was objectively true that he was insanely gorgeous. It was just a fact. Pretending like Harry was average in attractiveness…I mean, why would I do that? Why would I lie to myself when the man was just an innocent sight for my sore eyes? That’s all he was…he was cute. Handsome. Adorable. It was as simple as that. I just don’t know why I couldn’t stop coming back to his Instagram time and time again. No matter how paranoid I’d been about accidentally liking a post from like…5 years ago…I still kept clicking on his profile for more.

He had a few videos of him working out—pull ups, bench presses, deadlifts—all of which featured a very sweaty, and very shirtless Harry.

He also had a few group shots with friends. Sometimes there would be a picture of him with his mom or his sister.

The latest posts revealed his plethora of tattoos to my unexpecting eyes. It was obvious that he knew he was attractive. He knew he wasn’t some average Joe. And I swear he had to have known I was looking. Surely he was looking at mine, too. But I was quite conservative and innocent on my instagram profile—similar to the way he looked on his Facebook. I had to admit, the general vibe of this virtual scrapbook was indeed leaning on the fratty side. Sarah was right. He also seemed aloof in some ways. It looked like he preferred small gatherings to larger ones. He didn’t post very often, and it was hardly ever him who’d be taking photos of himself. Someone else would capture Harry’s beauty.

The contrast between the two online profiles distracted the hell out of me. Specifically, I found myself gawking at him in his sweaty workout videos. His defined shoulder muscles quickly caught my attention, my gaze drifting across the defined blades until I ventured lower. The butterfly on his abdomen was both creepy and beautiful. It reminded me of the moth from Silence of the Lambs. Its wings glistened with a layer of moisture as he pulled himself up and down on the steel bar. Beads of sweat made his chestnut curls cling damply to his skin. I salivated watching this man strain and flex continuously; and I felt myself arch my back while I sat, pressing and grinding my clothed core against my mattress.

Jesus…What was happening to me?!

So, uh…the truth is…I thought Harry was really fucking hot. There was no point in lying about it. His hair just looked so soft and silky, and I wanted to run my fingers through it. I wanted to pull at it. I wanted to slide my soapy hands across the art on his body under a steaming hot shower. I wanted to kiss my way down until I was met with what I was 10000% convinced would stand a girthy, 7-inch masterpiece. Oddly specific, I know. But it was obvious he had a gorgeous dick to compliment the rest of him. He just had this vibe—this aura about him. It’s hard to explain. What was worse was how it seemed as if he knew he exuded that ‘big-dick energy,’ too.

So why 7 inches? Well, the dildo I’d been using for a while was about 6 inches—which was very nice, don’t get me wrong. But it just didn’t quite fill me…completely. And so I’d begun to fantasize about how Harry could stuff my holes instead. Fantasy Harry was a motherfucking dreamboat, let me tell ya. I couldn’t stop daydreaming about him—from carrying heavy boxes into the house and helping me unpack, to flat-out forcing me onto all fours, spanking my ass, and fucking me to tears. The fantasies only evolved over time, no matter how hard I tried to push those perverse thoughts away…but to be honest, I didn’t want to…

Nevermind his admittance of vanity, he still had a gentleness about him…hiding somewhere beyond those pale, teal eyes. Or maybe it was my overwhelming attraction to him that cast a rosy hue to how I perceived his character. I guess that was possible. However, I tended to have a good radar for these sorts of things—people, I mean. Harry made me feel excited, secure, comfortable, and very horny. I had no intentions of backing out from signing that lease, and I decided it was time to officially confirm that with him.

My addiction had only worsened from there. I’d begun to shamelessly use his posts as some sort of spank bank for my regular sessions of alone time. My body reacted quite positively to the change in routine. I couldn’t get too into it, though, as I hardly ever had the house to myself. That was one reason why I wanted out of there. Of course, I was still able to have my fun; I just needed to keep quiet. But fucking myself to Harry made staying quiet extremely difficult. It was like masturbating on Hard Mode. I was constantly hyper aware of how I handled my phone with my one free hand—so as to not double-tap. Then there were some photos of him where I’d pinch and zoom in closer, straining my eyes to see if I could make out the outline of his bulge. He wore black athletic shorts a lot of the time, so he was usually protected by the camouflage of the dark fabric. In one of his weight-lifting videos, though, he brought the bar up from the floor up to his knees, then slid it up just below his hips, and—oh my god. The metal pressed so closely to the tops of his thighs that he had his whole package propped up. His shorts tightened perfectly around him. It was so subtle, most people would probably miss it upon first glance. But I didn’t. I saw it. And now I can’t unsee it.

Oh…but he wouldn’t post him with a…or would he…?

Ugh, that cocky little smirk…Fucking asshole.

I hated him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Of course, I felt really dirty for thinking about my new roommate like that.

Oh, yeah…Sorry, uh, I forgot to mention: the two of us had e-signed the lease. I know, I know…but I needed to take the offer! How could I pass up the chance to 1.) move out of my parents’ house, and 2.) move in with a sexy, brooding, successful British man whom I could trust because he was a mutual friend AND…I honestly loved the house. It was old, but not broken or in shambles. The floors were amber hardwood, and the whole house was finished with matching carved, wooden railings and accent wall paneling. Having recently been remodeled, the kitchen was in excellent shape. Appliances were updated. The property was managed by an association which handled the lawn, utilities, and small, miscellaneous amenities. We had our own driveway, a connected two-car garage, and our mailbox was labeled with both of our last names.

The charming little cottage condo was now officially, and contractually, mine and Harry’s. I was ecstatic about it, honestly. We still hadn’t met in person yet, which I knew wasn't the smartest approach, but we’d at least chatted a bit over text and shared some friendly phone calls. His voice was insanely sexy, might I add. I knew he was from the UK, as per Sarah, and so of course I was expecting to be greeted with that accent. What I was not expecting was this slow, deep…rough…

Eek, sorry—um, I wasn’t expecting a voice like that to come out of the speaker, that’s all. Dare I say it, he actually sounded nervous to talk to me on that first call. He’d stutter his words whenever I posed a question, and I could practically hear his boyish smile through my phone. It also took forever for him to end our calls—our goodbyes resembling the never-ending midwestern kind that I was unfortunately very familiar with. They didn’t feel nearly as painful or awkward, though. Listening to his accented mumbles on the other line released a flutter of butterflies in my belly.

I later learned that Harry had performed his own research on me. The only difference was that he’d done most of it a week or so before we’d e-signed the lease together.

It was simple. At work, Mitch mentioned me in a conversation regarding the house Harry had his eye on. He was interested the moment my name was suggested, a gut-feeling making him latch onto me. Once he’d discovered my online profiles by searching through Mitch’s mutuals, his infatuation with me soared. He had a juvenile crush on me from the get-go.

Feeling 17 again, Harry would look for openings in their casual discussions so that he could bring me up. Mitch, being a good sport, spent day after day playing his role as the messenger between the 4 of us. He wished Sarah had just given Harry my phone number straight away instead. If she did, Mitch would’ve been able to eat his lunches in peace. Not only did Mitch lack the answers to those questions, but he’d also only interacted with me a handful of times. He struggled to provide Harry with even the barebones descriptions. How was he supposed to know whether I was a morning or a night person, or what my thermostat preference was, or which days I did my laundry, or how often I had guests over? My private social media accounts offered better information about me than that of the fleeting memories my best friend’s boyfriend stored in his brain.

Harry intended to use somewhat of a surreptitious approach to voicing his curiosity to Mitch. But his sly efforts were useless, as Mitch caught onto his scheme quite easily. There wasn’t anything indicating to me that he was interested in me in any way. Well, not until Sarah let it slip that Harry couldn’t keep my name out of his mouth whenever he spoke to Mitch. But I thought he was just curious…I mean, I was a random, younger woman whom he was going to be living with. It made sense to me that he wanted to know so much about me. I was just as curious.

Casual lunch conversations between the two men had begun to form a particular pattern of redirection. At first, Mitch thought Harry was simply just eager to send in his deposit before anyone else could. The rent cost was a steal for how nice the house was and for the lovely neighborhood it was in. However, he knew all this enthusiasm was directed towards me, in particular, when Harry’s eyes were perma-glued to his screen whilst scrolling through my photos. I didn’t really have that much to scroll through, but apparently Harry spent enough time staring at each individual picture that one may have assumed I had an endless gallery. He’d even taken the liberty of digging further and eventually found my LinkedIn page. I remember how the week before our first phone call, I’d gotten a notification from LinkedIn telling me that someone viewed my profile…I didn't even know why I kept the app on my phone since I was content with my current job. Nevertheless, Harry’s investigation wasn’t as covert as he’d hoped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry was scrolling around on my LinkedIn profile in the Vol. 6 breakroom. Without thinking, he outwardly deduced to Mitch, “She must be the commitment type,” referring to my short, yet impressive résumé. He promptly followed up his inference by chiming,“She’s lookin’ for something’ serious then, hm?”

As soon as the words escaped his lips, Harry’s nonchalance disappeared.

Mitch stopped in his tracks as Harry decided to drag the comment out further.

“I-I mean, like, for a serious living arrangement, y’know?” Harry squeaked.

Mitch cringed in discomfort as the cracking of Harry’s voice pierced his eardrums. To the man’s dismay, his friend didn’t know how to shut his mouth.

“…Some people can be quite fickle ‘bout it, yeah? And what, she’s 24? Surely she’s been disappointed by dozens of pricks by now. Must be dying for someone she can actually rely on, dontcha think?”

Mitch pursed his lips and half-heartedly agreed, “Mhm, probably sick of the fear-of-commitment type.”

Harry nodded and pulled at his lip with his thumb and forefinger. He then continued to ramble on.

“Now tha’ I’m edging on 30…I dunno…’guess I’m just looking—” He paused to clear his throat and scratch his nose with his knuckle. He looked considerably anxious. “—looking forward to, uh, commitments, and all tha’.”

Mitch’s eyes narrowed towards his friend who kept fidgeting with his hands on top of the table and dodging all eye contact. He found Harry’s clumsiness entertaining. He wanted to see how long he could get him to chase his tail. Instigating, Mitch said,“Yeah…So, uh, did you find anything else interesting about her?”

Harry lifted his head up to meet with the other man’s suspecting stare.

“Huh? Well, y-yes, definitely! ‘Course I did. She, uh…well, she’s—”

“—She’s a pretty girl…yeah, H?” Mitch interrupted, cutting him off from his stuttering. Harry swallowed dryly in response. At that point, it seemed to him that Mitch had finally picked up on his crush.

“Uhm, yeah…yeah, I think she is. Quite lovely, now that y’mention it.” His eyes blinked down at the zoomed image of me in a bridesmaid’s dress displayed on his clutched phone screen. Mitch patted Harry’s shoulder, heartily laughing at the glassy-eyed brunette in front of him.

Except, Harry wasn’t laughing. The shells of his ears turned red hot and his knee bobbed awkwardly under the table, unintentionally knocking on the hard surface a few times.

“Ah! Fuck.” He cursed under his breath, holding his nervous knee down.

“Harry, it’s ok if you have a lil crush on her...” Mitch assured him. Harry gnawed on the inside of his lip as Mitch kept on. “…God, y’know, I haven’t seen you down this bad since…well, since Cam, I think...”

Harry gulped at the mention of the woman’s name…the woman who broke his heart several years earlier. His discomfort with the subject was apparent to his friend who then swiftly rephrased. “Shit…Sorry…I just mean, like, you’ve got heart-eyes for a girl you’ve never even met. You don’t know her. She doesn’t know you…”

Harry stayed silent.

“…Honestly, I’m surprised. ‘Used to you always going for the Barbie-type. It’s nice to see you’re, uh, broadening your horizons, hm?” He smirked and drew an exaggerated hourglass in the air with his hands.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and got defensive at the suggestive implication. “Besides having dated all women, I’ve never had a type, Mitchell.” He scoffed. “And another thing—” Harry quipped, his pupils swallowing the soft green of his irises. Mitch, unintimidated, seemed quite amused by his friend’s sensitive temper.

“—You shouldn’t talk about her like tha’. Inn’ she close with Sarah?! That’s your girlfriend’s best friend. ‘S fucked up.”

Mitch nodded in agreement with a dismissing chuckle. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sarah’s known her for years, but I was just messing with you, man. Relax.”

The men were quiet for a few moments before Mitch sent a warning Harry’s way.“Don’t fuck around with her, ok? ‘less you’re looking to mop up the poor girl’s tears every day. You’re signing a 3-year lease, remember? Try not to think with the wrong head.”

Harry glared at Mitch.

Wha—mopping up tears?! That’s a bit dramatic…

Contrary to Mitch’s assumptions, Harry wasn’t planning to create an uncomfortable living space. That’s the last thing he wanted. Sure, he was attracted to me and felt little butterflies fluttering in his belly when he read my posts and my texts. So what?! That’s his business if he had a teeny tiny crush on his potential housemate. It felt like Mitch was deliberately egging him on, and that’s precisely how the conversation escalated.

“What—? What are you going on about?” His voice strained to release the words. Mitch was done beating around the bush—he realized how the aftermath of Harry’s pursuit of me could end with lots of crying on my part; and worst of all, a very angry Sarah Jones. He wanted to avoid that outcome as much as possible.

“H, you’re stalking her Facebook and shit—”

“—Oi! ’S not like tha’! I just wanna know who I’m asking to move in w’me!”

“Ok, well I’m pretty sure you don’t keep looking through all her photos because you wanna know how good she is about washing the dishes.”

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about…” Harry huffed. “…’Sides, you know it takes me a bit to get comfortable with people. Not to mention, I've never had a bloody roommate befo’, either.”

He was telling the truth—omitting some personal details in the process, but that didn’t matter. Not to Harry, at least. He knew Mitch was terrible at keeping secrets and that Sarah would be in the know before he could even finish a confession. There was no way he was going to risk jeopardizing such a safe and pleasant option with sharing his feelings so soon.

“Okay…” Mitch trails off. The air in the room was still and it made him uneasy. Harry scratched the shadow of stubble adorning his jaw. His impulsive mouth thankfully filled the silence that was suffocating them previously. As grown men and friends, the boys seemed to act like stubborn adolescents when it came to women—specifically, when it came to Harry and women.

“Um…so, you said you’ve met her before, yeah?” Harry couldn’t let it go.

Mitch drank from his water bottle and gave Harry the thumb’s up with his free hand.

“Then uh, why don’t you tell me ‘bout her? Like…Wha’s she like in person…?” Mitch took a deep breath and screwed the cap back onto the bottle. He then rubbed his thumb and forefinger against his chin mockingly. It was like Mitch was searching for ways to further tease Harry about his crush. Harry chose to ignore it this time.

Despite lacking approval in Harry’s newfound love-interest, Mitch offered him his honest knowledge anyway.“Hmm…well, I first met her at Sarah’s birthday party a few years back…She was nice, just a little on the quiet side. Seemed like she was holding herself back in that way, you know?”

The sincerity of his recollection shocked Harry. He was expecting to be turned down or mocked once again—he was even planning in his head what to send me via DM to further get to know me, assuming Mitch would’ve ended the conversation by that point. Luckily, he was mistaken.

“I remember her, like, tearing up at a picture of Lexi’s daughter. I thought that was a bit dramatic—the crying, I mean—but, I guess she hadn’t seen Lexi and her baby in almost a year or something..? I dunno…”

Harry frowned, empathizing with my reaction. It broke his heart whenever he couldn’t see his godchildren for long stretches of time, too. Mitch then tapped his fingertips against the table, traveling deeper into his memory to provide more details for Harry.

“…I’d say she’s sensitive in general, though. Sar told me how she’s always the one crying at movies, crying’ in arguments…cries whenever she sees a cat video on TikTok. Kind of a hot-mess, if you ask me…”

Harry’s lips twitched into a smile imagining my expressive emotions.

“...OH!” Mitch clapped his hands and chuckled before proceeding.

“She’s got this laugh that’s, uh, it’s like low-key really loud. Like, sometimes it’ll be this crazy wheeze and then, right away, she’s as red as a fuckin’ tomato. Sarah thinks it’s hilarious and they’ll basically laugh at each other for an hour. But yeah, you can tell she gets all weird and embarrassed after she laughs, though—and she apologizes for everything, all the time. Always sayin’ sorry when she literally didn’t do anything. I swear, dude…Someone could knock her onto her ass and she’d be the one to apologize. Wait, I think she’s from somewhere in the Midwest—like the northern nicey-nice states, y’know, so maybe it’s that? I’m not sure.”

“That’s…kinda cute.” Harry mumbled, his cheeks turning rosy.

Mitch grinned. “Oh, you think so?” A pink hue then washed over Harry’s skin entirely and he bashfully ran his hand through his loose curls. “Yeah, she seems quite lovely—I mean…”Harry stumbled over his admiration, trying his best to sound cool and detached. He failed miserably.

“…I-I dunno…Jus’ forget it.” He then buried his face in his hands, shamefully admitting defeat.

Mitch rolled his eyes and chuckled at his lovelorn friend. He guessed Harry was only randomly feeling things for me because he’s lived in a bachelor’s paradise for too long. It was also a known fact that he’d only have short flings once every blue moon. Those flings have become fewer and farther between as of late. Romance and commitment weren’t really Harry’s forte.

It’s not that he didn’t want a partner, but that he viewed the whole relationship-building process to be strenuous and stressful. Life and work were already difficult enough to balance. And so, for the past few years, Harry let himself be completely occupied by his job at Vol. 6. The go-to excuse to his friends (and especially his mother) for not settling down yet was that he carried a heavy workload, and he didn’t want to be an absent partner because of it. He’d end those conversations with a snippy “‘S as simple as that” phrase.

Even so, Harry was praying to God in the privacy of his lonely bedroom that he’d have the chance to settle down soon. All his adult life, he’d aspired to meet ‘the one’ and for him to give that one all his love and all his babies—a hopeless, hungry romantic Harry was. Dreams like these passed through his subconscious more frequently the more he aged. The British businessman was famished, desperate for love and connection.

Dating around was disappointing and redundant, and one-night-stands made him feel gross. He wasn’t simply a dumb, horny teenager anymore, he wasn’t even much of a dumb hornball of a man in his early adult years. Nay. He always kept an underlying craving for passion and compatibility. Harry was going to enter his 30’s in less than a year and he desired more than lackluster, meaningless sex with boring strangers. He needed more than arm candy. He needed more than a weak flame. He longed for an all-encompassing wildfire to eat away at his flesh from the inside out. He wanted to feel someone’s presence consume him.

Recently, Harry’s dreaming intuition had been signaling to him that he wouldn’t have to wait much longer to finally find his person. He was so needy for someone to genuinely love, and he felt overwhelmingly drawn to me from the very start—to my smile, my innocence, and my bleeding heart that matched his own. My lucky arrival into his life had only increased his determination towards lifelong romantic and sexual fulfillment. He just knew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The time had come for us to meet in person. We’d gone out for drinks with Mitch and Sarah one weekend. It was a safe choice. This way, no one would feel uncomfortable, left out, or excluded. But in all honesty, it felt more like a double-date than a friendly gathering at a local bar.

I had been somewhat apprehensive about drinking around Harry knowing how I was a bit of a flirty(slutty) drunk. All it took was 1.5 cocktails for me to be a giggling, cock-hungry devil woman. Sarah knew this about me. She’d witnessed my nymphomania from the sidelines whenever we’d go out for a girls’ night. Yet, this knowledge did nothing to prevent her from ordering the 4 of us tequila shots before I’d even stepped into the establishment.

Of course, I was late—I’m late to everything. But that night, it was different. I was on the verge of a mental breakdown with hangers and loose clothes strewn across my bed and crumpled in clumps on the floor. Even my mother felt the need to knock on my door after one of my particularly loud outbursts of frustration—making sure I wasn’t actually in pain. I was fine. I just needed to look my absolute-fucking-best when I met my dream guy face-to-face for the first time! Was that such a crime to try and accomplish?!

My mom didn’t get it.

I’d finally slipped into a pair of high-waisted, dark wash jeans that made my ass look like a big, juicy peach, and a red, ruffled peplum-blouse that deliciously hugged my curves—my large breasts, especially. I topped it off with a tin cup choker and a pair of black, knee-high, heeled leather boots. My self-confidence switched from plummeting to soaring once I’d done a final mirror check on my way out the door.

I knew I had the ability to somewhat ‘make an entrance’ (in dim lighting, at least). However, as soon as Harry and I locked eyes, I saw his mouth hanging open as if I was an A-List celebrity approaching him. My stomach glittered with butterflies at witnessing the effects of my gorgeously buxom appearance. The high-pitched ring of Sarah’s playful wolf-whistle pulled me back to reality.

There he was. He was real. And he was even hotter than I thought he was. Yet, it was him whose features reacted to me with lusty enchantment.

His pupils were devouring me as we stood in a lull. My hand extended towards him for a cordial handshake. But as his large hand gripped mine, he pulled me into his chest for a hug—planting a soft kiss on my cheek. What was even more unexpected was how natural it felt to have his arms around me. The four of us then did a few rounds of shots that night. As a (heavy-weighted) lightweight, I was giggling like crazy after the first two throws. Harry laughed every time I did, and vice-versa, and so we’d run out of breath repetitively—basically falling to the floor on top of each other. We looked like a goofy, touchy couple out on a double date, but we were completely ignoring the other couple. Sarah found our loopy mingling to be quite entertaining, as did Mitch. They both had intimate knowledge the other didn’t. The night eventually wound down and the snoozy (actual)couple left for home via car service. I definitely wasn’t sober enough to drive, either. Thinking back, I suddenly remember sharing a private moment with Harry around that time. Nothing R-rated. Not even PG-13, really.

Our friends had already parted ways, leaving the two of us drunk and cozy at a corner-table in the back of the bar. He ordered us some ice water, of which I’d gratefully accepted. I was mid-gulp when I felt his fingers tuck a section of my hair behind my ear. In hindsight, that was a cheesy, 90’s romcom thing for him to do. However, it felt so gentle and sweet in the moment, I didn’t care. My eyes blinked up at him, my mouth occupied with chilled fluids, and he smiled dreamily down at me. Swallowing and setting my glass down, a soft giggle escaped my lips.

“You’re even prettier in person, y’know.” Harry drawled. More light laughter came out of me before I returned the compliment. “Mmm, you too, Mr. Styles.” His cheeks dimpled and he shook his head at me. “Tha’s cute, but I’m serious.”

I raised my eyebrows at his accusation. “So am I.” My arms folded over my chest in playful defiance. We sat there for a few beats, deeply drinking each other in as if the other person was the bartender’s last call. Harry broke the trance first. “Need t’get ya home, love.” His hand moved to cover mine on the tabletop. Out of instinct, my glassy eyes followed his touch. He was cold, clammy even, yet I could feel my skin flush red-hot in retaliation.

Harry seemed hardly intoxicated or loopy anymore. He had more to drink than me, for sure. However, I had to hold onto him for stability in order to exit the building. Leaving the bar that night gave me the same satisfaction as going home after an amazing first date. I hadn’t met a guy so instantly enamored by my presence since high school…back when I was a size 8! As a size 16 in my early twenties, I’d gotten used to men talking over me and looking right through me. There was no reason for them to treat me that way. I’d always been told that I’m the nicest person in the world—that I was beautiful and hilarious and passionate and brilliant. None of that mattered, though. I was either met with pure indifference or blatant, manipulative narcissism from the opposite sex. But Harry was the diamond in the rough. He treated me better than just decently. He made me feel like a person deserving of much more than the bare minimum—more than just mere kindness—worth love, attention, effort, adoration, and affection. I hadn’t felt that in a long time…if ever.

And don’t worry, neither of us drove home. Harry ordered an Uber for me and rode along so that he could make sure I got inside my parents’ house safely—escorting me to the door like a proper gentleman would. I’d only really experienced that kind of ‘chivalry’ once or twice before. Not that every guy I’ve dated was a complete asshole to me, but the bare minimum was certainly a chore for some…It was refreshing to be treated so delicately—by someone who hardly knew me, to boot.

That entire first impression…it was a solid confirmation for me.

I liked Harry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry and I have grown to be quite friendly with one another since we first met a little over a year ago. However, we sure as hell didn’t start out that way—yeah, the amazing time at the bar was a false first impression. Sure, Harry would still have his moments where he was genuinely caring and gentle. But for the most part, his demeanor changed into that of an antagonistic older brother. So, you could say the initial acquaintanceship was tense.

For starters, we had that 5 year age-gap; and so Harry used that as a pass to be an arrogant, cynical, pretentious know-it-all. It was like he always needed to be the one and only expert on everything. And I’m certain he’s always gotten off on every rare instance where I’ve shown to be naive. Yelling-matches would occur every so often for months as both of us are sensitive hot-heads. We ended that streak of arguing when Harry’s big mouth had inevitably put me in tears. I think it was around the 6-month mark (of living together) when it happened. What’s silly is how his comment didn’t even deserve my dramatics, really. I’d already been in a piss-poor mood that night, and I’m just a crybaby in general. So you betcha any joke about me and my body, no matter how innocent the intentions behind it, throws just enough of a punch to unleash the hysterics.

I was in our living room watching YouTube when Harry came home from work. The video on the TV had pulled a full-blown guffaw out of me a minute or so before the door opened—which felt like a wave of relief after a long, miserable day at my job. I typically would spend more of my time enclosed in my bedroom, but I guess I just felt like switching things up that day. Besides, Harry acted as if he owned the whole goddamn place. The house was 50% mine, too (per our rental agreement). I had every right to venture away from my compact sleeping quarters for the evening. There was still a high probability that Harry would be a grump about it.

Fucking whatever.

If I wanted to enjoy our shared entertainment room, then I was gonna fucking enjoy it! My confidence was torn out from underneath me the moment that prick made his entrance. The door swung open, and there he was—white-collared, spotless, and as smug as ever. He released a generous sigh, an attempt at drawing my attention, but I refused to acknowledge his homecoming. What? Did he want a freaking ‘welcome home, honey’ from me or something?! Being a part of Harry’s House’s Greeting Committee wasn’t in the fine print of our lease. Plus, the last time I kindly acknowledged him after work, he brutally mocked me.

[“Hi!!!” I exclaimed with a sweet smile.

He raised an eyebrow as he slipped his shoes off. “Uh, hello.”

I was in the middle of stowing the last of the groceries away. I’d been in a pretty good mood that afternoon. I don’t know why or what made me so excited for Harry to come home, but I just was. Typically, I wouldn’t be keen on asking him to talk about his day. But, again, I was just feeling good. I didn’t understand why that deserved such an adverse response from the man.

“How was your day?! Oh yeah, you had that big meeting, or whatever, right?”

“Mhmm.” He muttered, unbuttoning the wrist cuffs of his shirt and rolling the sleeves up to his shoulders.

I grinned brightly at him and opened the fridge. The way Harry looked with his stuffy work clothes always made me melt. He kept his tattoos well-hidden, but simply pulling his sleeves back would reveal the art…and that was something he’d do as soon as he got home. The action was so small and innocent, but witnessing it so closely—whilst simultaneously inhaling the faint notes of his expensive cologne—sent rushes of heat down to my core. He had no idea how hot he was when he did that…actually, he probably knew exactly how hot he was…little shit…

“So…Did your presentation go ok?”

“Uh, yeah, ‘went fine. It was fine...glad to be home, though.” Harry sighed, but I saw him fighting a smile once I’d turned around to face him.

“Oh? Just fine?” Judging by his subtle cheekiness, I had thought he had some news to tell me. It just seemed that way to me, at least. Or maybe that he was hiding something, or about to make a joke. My latter suspicion was quickly confirmed as true.

“I dunno…It went well, I guess…couldn’t wait to get home...” Why was he smirking at me?

I giggled and continued the banter.

“What are you being so modest about? I’m sure the reps at Gucci fell in love with the designs.”

Harry slipped onto one of the bar stools and watched me unpack the remainder of paper bags from behind the kitchen island. He leaned back against the seat’s backing with his arms folded and resting comfortably atop his abdomen. After making silent eye contact for a moment, I resorted to laughing lightheartedly and raising my eyebrows at the man.

“Eh?”

Harry just smirked.

I’d begun to fold up the empty paper bags. My cheeks were definitely blushed pink, reacting sheepishly to his stare. To conceal my submissive appearance, I reached up—pushing up onto my tiptoes—to stack the paper bags above the refrigerator. It didn’t matter that my back was facing him. I could still feel his eyes following my every move. Why did he have to intimidate me so much?

“Fine, be that way. Just so you know, I bought cookies for us, but now I'm not gonna share!”

“Oh really?” He hummed, leaning up to rest his forearms on the counter.

Scoffing, I stepped forward to face him from the other side of the island and grabbed onto the edge of the countertop. My upper half was angled towards him so that I could talk more directly to him.

“Really, really.” I purred, not realizing my voice would sound so erotic. Instead of backtracking, I just ran with it. Harry’s pupils expanded much like a feline’s when they’re hunting their prey.

But he just sat there smirking at me. My pleasant mood wasn’t to be ruined by his teasing. I wasn’t going to allow it. I could play, too, Styles.

“What kind of cookies did you get us, hm?” His low, British drawl sent chills down my back.

“Oreos.” I didn’t sink into that ‘subspace’ as they call it. Not yet.

Harry basically moaned a hum out in approval. I swallowed, still combating my natural instinct to surrender like a desperate little puppy. This was getting more difficult.

“You know those are my favorite, don’t you?”

I blinked. “Uh huh.”

“I bet you got’em just f’me…you weren’t gettin’ them for us...” He paused for a moment. “…were you, sweet girl?”

“I…maybe…” I squeaked, earning Harry’s immediate amusement.

“I’m gonna take a guess at something real quick, a‘right, doll?”

“Ok…” He was so close to me. I was just thankful I’d been chewing gum at the time…

“Are you ovulating right now? Is that why you’re being so doting and domestic?”

My face fell.

“Wha—Excuse me?!” I stepped back from the counter and put my hands on my hips. What kind of guessing game was that?! Who even asks that?!

In the most annoying way, Harry stood up from his stool and copied my stance. He was using far too much sass and flamboyance to be accurate, though. I did not look like that…

“Oh, don’t you give me that look, sweetheart.” Harry chuckled, walking over to me. He then reached his long index finger up to *boop* the tip of my nose. I huffed in response. The breaking point was nearing closer with every word he’d spoken. But submission was not an option.

I knew that he knew. He had to have known. He must have caught onto my shyness, saw how much he made me blush, sensed how bratty I’d become whenever he teased me. I was putty in his hands.

“Awe, You’re cute…” He mumbled under his breath. His hand rose to my shoulder and he twirled a lock of my hair around his finger.

I was furious. It was obvious he was just trying to rile me up. That’s all this was…reaction bait.

“Harry…—”

“—I’m just sayin’, one might think you were trying to sweet talk me into letting you milk me dry and put a baby in ya. I’m sure you’re just as fertile as you look, aren’t you, babe?” He grinned and drummed his rings back against the marble counter, now leaning back all cockily.

There it was again—that smug little smirk on his stupid, perfect, dimpled face. What did he mean by, “as fertile as I look?!” God, a woman can’t be mean or nice without a man having some bullshit to say about it. Whatever. I told myself at that moment that the next man who dared to comment on my missing smile would be a dead one.

I gave him a dirty look and hustled my ass up the stairs to my room. Thankfully, I was finished putting all the groceries away. There was no reason for me to stick around playing this silly game with Harry. As I was making my way up, he called out to me, “I may have a high sperm count, but I’m not quite ready to be a daddy, yet, love!”

“Shut up!” I groaned and slammed my door shut. I think I could still hear him snickering to himself downstairs. Such a dick. Also, how the hell did he know I was ovulating..?! Ugh!

Oh, and Harry wasn’t even finished with his jokes yet, because he’d leapt up the steps in long strides and knocked on my door…just 5 minutes later. I opened it, having then changed into a crop top and pajama shorts in the meantime. Not only was my round ass falling out of the shorts, but my heavy, unsupported tits were also threatening to peak out from the bottom hem of my shirt.

Typically, I wouldn’t want to be caught dead wearing that kind of getup in front of anyone. However, I thought I looked deliciously thick and absolutely, downright-fuckable that night. Of course I’d been aware of this, as well. And so I used my innate feminine sexuality to my advantage. As soon as I opened the door, Harry’s eyes (unsurprisingly) flickered back and forth between my chest and my face. How classy… I took the liberty of folding my arms together in front of me to feign some modesty.

Looking back on it now, I definitely watched a similar scene in porn...

He just stood there at my door, all of a sudden at a loss for words. I wish that silence would have lasted longer. It took only a few seconds before he was flashing me his signature dimpled smirk again. He then mirrored my body language and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” He teased, plucking at the hem of the shirt sleeve that hung loosely past my shoulder.

My back straightened up, an attempt at asserting a smidge of self-confidence amidst my pink cheeks and pounding pulse.

“What do you want, Harry?” I tried to act annoyed, but I think I sounded too timid…and to be honest, the idea of Harry filling me up with his cum had caused my panties to dampen significantly. They were surely leaking through my shorts, but fortunately my thighs were meaty enough to hide it.

“Hmm…No bra? Tha’s interesting…” I could tell he lowered his canter when he said that, but I still heard him.

“Gross, you pervert.” I spat, squeezing my arms closer against my chest.

“Ay, hold on, little miss sunshine. What’s with the bratty attitude, huh?”

“Shut up, mister big loads. Go impregnate a sock.” My expressive irritability only further inflated his ego.

“Hmm, I’ve gotta say, tha’s tempting, but…I wouldn’t wanna make you jealous.” I wanted to scream.

“Ugh! Get out of my room!” I pushed at the door, but Harry held it open with his hand—and there was no way I could win against him in that impossible match of strength.

“First of all, I’m not in your room.”

I closed my eyes and tried to control my breathing.

“Second,” he held his finger up. “Would you like f’me to order us some dinner?”

I huffed. “What I’d like is for you to leave.”

He shook his head and tsk’d in response. “Mm-mm, tha’s not what I asked.”

My teeth clenched at his audacious snark.

“I don’t care, Harry.”

His rings then tapped awkwardly against the smooth wood.

“Ah…” he sighed with his head bowed. “…Look, I’m sorry. I was just tryin’ to mess with you...I didn’t mean to make you feel embarrassed…”

Even though I couldn’t stand him, I’d begun to feel my heart soften at his puppy-eyed expression. Why did he have to be so irritating and so adorable at the same time?! Just choose one!

Hmph…whatever.

“…Well, I know you’re hungry…I’ll pay…?”

I sighed and chewed at my lip. I was starving…

His boyish apology was reluctantly accepted, but I made a point out of picking something expensive. He could afford it.

We ate and watched a movie on the couch together. To my surprise, there were no more stupid comments coming out of his mouth for the rest of the evening. Impressive. I noticed his eyes turned basically black. It wasnt like we had all the lights off; plus, it was August—the sun didn’t set completely until 9pm. I felt those pupils following me.

It was apparent that Harry found me attractive. That night he certainly did. Or maybe he was just high? Either way, after he’d pointed out my lack of undergarments, I decided to brush him off as simply horny. At least that was the best explanation I could come up with for all the sneaky eye-fucking. There was no way I could’ve convinced myself he was actually giving me that kind of attention consciously…

After we’d finished eating, he went out of his way to fetch me a blanket(our good one, no less) and then proceeded to drape it around my back and shoulders, tucking me in as if he’d done it a million times before. Look who’s the doting one now, Styles!

I also remember how he basically bolted for the bathroom and took a shower as the film wrapped up with the end credits…Ok, ok…so, I may have purposefully bent over in those shorts while cleaning up the coffee table…but surely he just had a long day and was desperate for a hot shower…Surely.]

It’s safe to say that I toned down the ‘domestic’ part of me from that point on. Even though Harry just likes to get my goat, I still wanted to make it more difficult for him to have a reason to tease me. The night when our door to the garage swung open, his voice echoed through the house with such vigor that it sent yucky chills down my spine. Oh, the irony...

“Well, shit—Mitch wasn’t kiddin’ ‘bout y’laugh being loud as’ell! ‘Could hear ya from the driveway!”

This man survived off of my agitation, I swear. I shifted in my seat to face him and my eyes narrowed at the sight of his stupid, cocky face. I’ve always felt embarrassed about my somewhat-loud, slightly obnoxious laugh—and the thought that it’s been a main point of discussion between Harry and Mitch (and who knows who else) stung even worse.

It’s fine. Don’t listen to him. Don’t react. Just…breathe…

“Hi, Harry.” My intonation was as unimpressed as I could make it sound. He of course snorted at my brattiness, slipping his shoes off and tossing his wallet and keys onto the kitchen counter before taking long-legged strides in my direction.

“Good evening, doll.”

I huffed and waved my hand half-assedly. Something that drove me mad was how he was fiercely antagonistic towards me, and he insisted upon giving me little pet names. I knew he was just teasing me. That’s why I made sure to always swallow my bashful giggles whenever he said them. My subby-ness was not to be easily accessible anymore.

“So, what’s this, hm? Grown tired of hiding from me all the time?” He casually gestured to me with his flat, open palm.

I exhaled through my nose in aggravation as he plopped abruptly down onto the couch—his arm propped up next to him and one leg resting on the opposite knee. His draping arm was stretched out towards me. I refused to take part in Harry’s game at that time, and so I returned his question with silence. But it didn’t even matter because he could tell I was holding my anger in.

“Oh, I get it. It’s some sort of opposite day or summat.”

He stretched his fingers closer to where my head was resting on the back of the couch. They wrapped themselves around a smooth lock of my hair and twirled it continuously. This man thought it was absolutely hilarious to get even the faintest reaction out of me. Harry was generally the ‘touchy’ type of person when he’s around those he’s comfortable with. It made me feel special whenever he went out of his way to be affectionate towards me because…well, I had a crush on him for a while. And so, at first, I naively understood those soft touches as hints for his deeper feelings. At least that’s how I perceived things privately. But the more time I’d spent living with him, the more I had to come to terms with the fact that he was out of my league, and that he probably only viewed me as a little sister. My mind convinced me that Harry just enjoyed taking advantage of my innate submissiveness. He would never be attracted to someone like me. In order to protect my heart from the shattering effects of rejection, I chose to play into the little sister dynamic and behave as though Harry Styles was just a stupid fucking boy, and nothing more.

My behavior shift from the bashful sweetheart to the indifferent recluse somehow drew him closer to me anyway. I was so fucking pissed. I was sick of his games! Most of all, I hated Harry Styles. I hated him, and I hated his wandering hands, and his cockiness, and his giant ego.

My hair is not a toy, and I am not a doll reserved for Harry’s cruel amusement. And yet I kept living with all these antics because I…

…Because I liked his attention…honestly, I loved his attention. I’ll admit it! There was no way he could ever find that out, though!

That night when he (once again) twisted a piece of my hair around his long fingers, I pretended it didn’t make my heart flutter. My face stayed emotionless. It had truly been an award-winning performance by yours truly. To an outsider, this scene would’ve looked as if Harry and I were a bickering couple. They’d probably assume I was just a crabby girlfriend punishing her partner with the silent treatment. To be honest, that’s what it felt like for a second before I caught myself leaning into his gentle contact. I smacked his hand away from my hair and he just smiled at me.

Ugh!

He smiled at me, and then he poked my cheek with his index finger. I swear to God, my skin was on fire.

“So what’s next on the opposite day schedule? ‘You gonna go for a run?” Harry snickered and let out an amused sigh. “That would be the shock of the century, wouldn’t it?!”

He kept laughing at his juvenile dig. I let out a weak scoff, unable to swallow my pride that time. The air in the room was stale. Harry faced the television screen and sunk further back into the cushions. I sat there in mopey silence.

So I live a sedentary lifestyle, so what? And yes, I’m overweight—I’ve been struggling with my body my entire life, so there’s no need for anyone to give me a reminder. Regardless of the obvious and regardless of Harry’s ‘opposite day’ joke, I wasn’t in the right mindset to just brush it off…not that night. Starting a fight wasn’t the route I wanted to take either. I was exhausted. A retreat into solitude felt like my best option.

But, God…why did he have to fucking say that?

My bottom lip quivered and I was unable to blink back the tears for a moment longer. Every last ounce of patience I had left was dried up at this point. My long hair shielded my face whilst I bowed and dabbed my dripping eyelashes with my sleeves. Noticing the lack of verbal retort from me, Harry turned his head back in my direction. His breath hitched in his throat and his sage irises washed over to stormy blue.

“Oh, shit…” he muttered.

I sniffled and got up from the couch, making a beeline for the privacy of my bedroom. He never meant to make me cry. It was obvious Harry was just poking fun at me, but words can still hurt regardless of the speaker’s intent. It was too late for him to consider that now. Harry quickly jumped in front of me. He leapt into action so fast that I was physically startled back against my bare heels.

“What the fuck, Harry? Move!” I whined frustratedly at the man as he stood there with similarly glossy eyes.

Then he reached out and held my shoulders in his strong hands. His thumbs did that rubbing thing that most people only do when comforting their loved ones. Back then, I wished so badly that the simple gesture hadn’t sent such soothing goosebumps down my arms. It was so infuriating how this man held that kind of power over me.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, love. Please don’t cry. I—”

I gritted my teeth at his pity.

“—why? Are my big, fat tears too loud?! Or are you worried I’m so huge that I’ll get stuck, and my arms and legs will burst out of the fucking house?!”

Harry’s brows furrowed at my imagery. “Uh, wait—are you trying to reference…Alice in Wonderland—”

“—ALSO! Last time I checked, YOU were the one who ate all the cookies last night—YOU and your RABBIT TEETH fucking decimated my Oreos! So why don’t you go for a fucking run!”

Harry seemed amused with that one. His stupid dimples popped out at me and I was fed up.

“Get out of my way!”

I pushed against his chest, but he stood firmly on the carpet in front of the stairs. I remember fighting my urge to stomp my feet like a toddler. He wasn’t letting me retreat. He wouldn’t get out of my fucking FACE!

“I know you want to yell at me, so do it.”

“No, I don’t want to yell at you! I want you to move so I can go to my room!”

“Cmon, love. Talk to me…Give me all y’got. I know you have it in ya.”

“MOVE!”

Then he laughed. Why? Because I actually stomped my fucking foot—just like how I’d previously forbade myself to. And I’m sure the performance was quite entertaining for him.

“Don’t you throw a tantrum on me, sweet girl. Use your words!”

“You’re such a fucking smartass.”

“Oi, don’t talk about my ass like that! I’ll have you know, it’s quite dumb!” He grinned.

Un-fucking-believable. I can’t believe that got me to crack a smile. Harry instantly mirrored my surrendering, his hands drifting down from my shoulders to my elbows. My arms were crossed over my chest, but he wiggled them loose.

“YES! There’s that pretty smile…”

I huffed and groaned, feeling like a total child.

“…Don’t you be teasing me for my teeth—Y’look like a bunny just like me, babe.”

I giggled and playfully shoved his chest. “I do not!”

“Uh-huh! You definitely do!”

My hand rose up to cover my mouth and Harry just laughed at me. Lowering himself closer to my height, he *booped* my nose which caused me to scrunch it up in response.

“Aww, you are just a lil’ bunny, aren’t you?”

I squirmed and whined, annoyed as all hell with his patronizing.

“Don’t you start stomping your feet again, sweet Bunny. You’re better than that!”

I couldn’t help myself from just letting my guard all the way down at that moment. Inhaling deeply, I circled my arms around Harry’s middle and buried my face against his chest.

“Sorry…I just want us to get along, H.” My small voice was muffled against his shirt.

Harry frowned and wrapped his arms around me, reciprocating my surrendering embrace. My ear was pressed against his chest. There was a strong beat beyond his hard surface–my head pulsed with each fierce thump. That was the closest we’d ever been to each other. One of his hands slid up to my hair and combed through it.

“I do, too…I’m sorry.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sharing a house was less expensive for both of us 20-somethings, and rent has thankfully stayed reasonable and affordable since we two moved in a couple of years ago. I’m happy in my living space with my roommate. It’s a platonic situation between me and Harry—regardless of what family and friends want to believe. And I doubt it will ever venture beyond friendship any time soon. It can’t. Things are perfect right now…exactly the way they are. I keep my little fantasies to myself within the privacy of my bedroom. Harry can never know.

I’ve been single for a while. It’s possible that my holes are the tightest they’ve ever been, and that it might feel like I’m losing my virginity again whenever I do get some dick. So what, sometimes I think about what would happen if I just accidentally sent a racy photo to Harry…

…Whether he’d keep it and pretend he never saw it (as a way to be gentlemanly)…if he’d be disgusted and laugh at my body…or if he’d turn feral like I hope he would, bursting through my bedroom door and finally taking all that I’ve unconsciously reserved for him…

Don’t fret, my pet — smut will come in part 2 😈

Writer’s Notes: Hi, everyone🥰 Phew…well, there she is! Part 1! Thought I’d celebrate my birthday today by posting my first H piece💕 I’ll start off by saying…I’m kind of an obsessive perfectionist when it comes to my writing…so I won’t be super speedy when posting updates on my work, as I really want to be certain that I’m posting exactly what I want you to read. I know that other content creators on here are excellent at keeping a quick, reliable posting schedule—and I will be trying my best to do the same(I hope to make it in the same ballpark as them, at least). However, please be patient with me💕🙏🏻 💕 I have devoted a lot of time, love, and creativity into my work just so that I can share it online with strangers for free. I greatly appreciate any and all support, suggestions, criticism, questions, etc., so please don’t hesitate to comment or send me messages/asks. (Anons are welcome!) I’ve been working on this piece for a while now and I’d really like to get your feedback on it. If you would like to be tagged in future updates/parts, please let me know!!!👏🏻💗👏🏻🩷👏🏻💖 👏🏻

xoxo ~ Regan 😘💕

@victoria-styles @harrystylessmuttyfics @therealhousewifeofharrystyles