#im on a high right now and just want to talk about it but everyone is so busy fjfjdjdjd

[gyaruhana]

Can you do a smut fic where readers dating thanos and she nearly dies in red light green light, and they realise how dangerous the games are and fuck like it’s their last night together? Im talking pure need and lust, desperation after realising the stakes of the squid games

Thanos / Choi Su-bong - I love you

Synopsis: After witnessing so much death and realizing you may both be next, you decide to fuck in the bathroom.

A/N: combined this with two other requests asking for bathroom sex.. i hope that was okay !! also not entirely proof read..

Warnings: smut content, fingering, praise, he's more gentle tbh

You had never feared death before. It always seemed so far away and it was the least of your concerns considering the debt you and your boyfriend, Thanos, share after betting it all on some coin a youtuber recommended. Never once in your life had you thought you would actually die. You always imagined that you'd die at an old age in a fancy house- maybe even with a kid or two. Point is, you didn't think about death because you really didn't see any need to.

Until today that is. 

You and your boyfriend had come across a great opportunity to earn lots of won by playing a few games. Considering you had already earned quite a bit from a game of ddakji, it was a no-brainer to agree to a few games. At the time, it didn't seem suspicious because the salesman who offered the card to you had given you plenty of won without a catch. 

Although you were knocked out with a gas when you entered the designated car together and practically kidnapped, neither of you thought anything about it- too excited at the idea of making money to pay off your debt with a few games. Any money goes a long way to finally paying off your debt so you can focus on getting your dream life.

Idiotically enough, you also didn't find any suspicion in the guy yelling something about how you'll be shot if you move. It actually made you and Thanos laugh at the ridiculousness of it as you both assumed he was just some drunk making up shit to scare people. How wrong the both of you were.

By the time everyone had made it to the halfway mark with plenty of time to spare, Thanos saw a bee land on some girl and made a comment about it. The girl immediately let out a scream and moved to try to get the bee off of her. It was amusing to watch until the sound of a gunshot rang through the air and her body fell to the floor. 

The smile on both your faces dropped immediately as blood pooled around her now-dead body. You and Thanos stood deadly still as people started to scream and run away out of fear. Every gunshot made your heart drop further because that could be you or him. The idea one of you might die right now was sickening for the both of you. 

The moment the sound of shooting stopped, the doll turned out and called green light again. Thanos quickly reached for his necklace while walking forward, desperately needing to be high right now so he could try to pretend like this wasn't really happening. Meanwhile, you didn't move a muscle - too afraid you might die here. You didn't want to be shot too.

The doll turned its head and called out red light making everyone freeze again. Another gunshot rang out making you flinch but thankfully the doll didn't notice the small movement. When it turned around again, Thanos put the pill in his mouth before closing his necklace and looking behind him. You still weren't moving, making him worry. You didn't have time to just stand there, you had to get going and make it to the end.

“What are you doing? You have to move,” Thanos spoke out as he gestured for you to come over to him. He kept still when the doll announced red light again but he kept his eyes on yours. He couldn't have you just stand there until your inevitable death. The moment the players could move again, Thanos ran toward you and grabbed your wrist before pulling you along with him. 

With Thanos dragging you along, you both managed to make it to the end before the time ran out. The relief the two of you shared was only there momentarily. You may have survived this game but what's to say you'll survive the next game? There was no guarantee. In fact, you weren't even confident in yourself that you'd survive the next game. After all, you only got through this because Thanos had dragged you to the end. 

As if sensing your fear, Thanos looked at you and cupped your face with his hands. “Don't look so stressed, baby. We're fine,” he spoke as he gently caressed your cheek. You gave a small smile at his words but the fear didn't disappear. He let out a sigh before tapping your cheek twice and removing his hands. He knew there wasn't much he could say to make this any better. It was a lot to handle, that was for sure. The only reason he was calm was because he had popped a pill the moment the first person died. 

As the players were slowly led back to the main room which they had awoken in, Thanos took your hand to keep you close to him. Despite the drugs he had taken, he was still pretty stressed about the whole ordeal. Mostly because of you. He couldn't fathom the idea of you getting shot like those other idiots in the last game. He'd definitely go crazy if you got hurt so he needed to keep you close to him. 

Even after you were already in the room, his hand still kept a firm grip on yours as if you might disappear should he let go. You didn't mind though. If anything, his hand squeezing yours was a huge comfort. A silent reminder that he wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon. It made you feel significantly calmer to be close to him.

He led you to the back of the room and sat you down on the bed before sitting down next to you, his legs crossed with his hand still in yours. He looks at you for a few moments, analyzing your face and trying to read your thoughts. He didn’t like the way your eyes lingered on your lap instead of him so he raised a hand and tilted your chin upwards to make you look at him.

“Baby, you good?” he asks even though he already knew the answer to that question. You were quite far from good after all the blood you had seen. “Am i good?” you say sarcastically, mocking his own words. “Of course, I’m not! I just saw people die! Too many! Fuck, that could’ve been me or you,” you speak, your stress about the whole situation evident in your face and tone. “You gotta relax. We’re fine. Besides we’ll get out of here soon,” he says reassuringly as he looks at you with worry.

You let out a sigh and shake your head as you look to the side- away from him. It was quiet for a few moments as Thanos waited for you to say something else, knowing that you were thinking something. “What if we don’t?” you finally say as you look back at him again. “Don’t say that,” he speaks as his face hardens slightly at the idea that you might die. Fuck, he couldn’t bear the thought of you laying lifeless. “Not saying it doesn’t make it any less of a possibility,” you respond with a frown. He knows that you’re right. It’s a possibility that he can’t just ignore.

“I swear on my life that I will protect you,” he says with a sincere look on his face. It didn’t make you feel any better though because swearing on his life in a game where he could actually die wasn’t a good thing. “Don’t say that,” you speak, repeating his earlier words as your face hardens. You didn’t want him to even think about sacrificing his life for you. You couldn’t see what you’d do without him. 45.6 billion was useless if he couldn’t be there with you to spend it. 

“Okay,” he says with a small smirk as he raises his hand in mock surrender. “I’ll swear on the sun and the moon instead,” he said as he lowered his hands. His words were enough to make you smile a little. Him swearing on the sun and the moon was plenty more significant then others may think. He swore on the sun and the moon he’d treat you right when he first asked you to be his. He swore on the sun and the moon to always be there for you after a particularly bad day when you lost your dad. Most of all, he swore on the sun and the moon that he’d buy a nice house and you could get married and live happily ever after together. He never ever took the name of the sun and moon in vain and that’s why hearing him say it now made you feel just a little better about the current situation.

Thanos looked behind himself for a moment before back at you. “Hey.. if swearing on the sun and moon isn’t enough for you, I could show you how serious I am,” he says with a small smirk. It didn’t take an idiot to know what he meant by that. “..what exactly does that mean?” you question even though you already knew exactly what he meant. There was a spark of desire in his eyes that matched yours as his hand gripped yours tightly. “I don’t have to tell you for you to know,” he says before standing up and pulling you up from the bed with him. 

He drags you towards the door on the right side of the room and bangs on it loudly. “Hey, open up. Bathroom needed,” he says and the door opens after a moment. “Ladies first,” he says with a smirk as he steps out of the way to let you go in first. You shake your head, an amused smile playing on your face as you walk in. The guard led you both down the hallway and to the bathroom. Thanos didn’t waste any time in pushing past that door, dragging you behind him. 

With his patience wearing thin, he quickly pulled you into a kiss. It was unlike his usual kisses that were rough and involved his tongue jammed down your throat. This kiss was more passionate as if he was trying to say something words could never convey properly. He quickly pushed you back into one of the stalls and kicked the door closed behind him, locking it with one of his hands. He spun you around and pushed your back against the stall wall. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he mumbles after pulling away momentarily. He stares at you silently - memorizing every feature of your face. He could never get enough of how pretty you were. It felt like a miracle someone like you was with a dickhead like him. He couldn’t help but admire you. “..What? Is something wrong?” you say as you look at him with concern. You didn’t expect him to just stare at you out of nowhere and it was a little embarrassing. 

He shakes his head as he snaps out of his trance. “No, sorry. Just thinking about how fucking lucky I am,” he says before kissing you again like it’s the last time he could ever get to kiss you. In his mind, it damn well could be. One of you really could be dead by tomorrow evening and then that was it. He’d never see you smile or laugh again or look at him like he was the most important thing in the world. The thought was sickening. No matter how confident or cocky he’d act, he was still just Choi Su-bong. And Choi Su-bong was undeniably yours.

You put your arms around his neck as you kissed him back - the feeling of his hands on your waist keeping you in the moment and erasing any memory of the earlier events just for now. His hands slipped under your shirt to feel your skin before he pulled away from the kiss and opted for leaving kisses on your neck instead. He sucked at the skin so delicately and slowly, trying to savor his time with you as much as possible. His lips paused for a moment when they hovered over your pulse point before he kissed the area and bit it softly to mark you right above your pulse so he could feel your heart beat quicker - a silent confirmation that you were still very much alive. 

His hands trailed down to the waistband of your pants before he tugged them down till they dropped to the floor. His hand then pulled your underwear down too, not wanting to waste time with foreplay with the limited time you two shared together. His index finger gently traced over your clit making a moan escape the back of your mouth. “You’re already wet for me? God - I can just skip ahead then, yeah?” he says as he pulls his hand to pull his pants down along with his boxers. 

“Not even a little prep?” you question as you look at him. He laughs quietly before nodding his head. “Fine, but you better cum quick - I need to feel you,” he speaks as one of his hands finds its way to your hole again. He carefully rubs his fingers back and forth before slipping in a finger. His free hand went to cover your mouth when a moan escaped as he couldn’t risk the guard outside the bathrooms hearing and breaking up this moment with you. 

“Gotta be quiet, baby,” he says as he starts to finger you. You nod your head as you try to keep as quiet as possible. He inserts another finger and begins to quicken the pace in which he thrusted his fingers in and out of you. He kept his eyes on your face, loving your reactions to his fingers deep inside your aching core. He had always observed you like this but there was something different about it now that you two had each other to lose. Everything was so much more passionate than usual. You found that your release came much quicker this time around as you released on his fingers. 

“God, you’re so good for me,” he says as he pulls his fingers out slowly before bringing them to his mouth and tasting you. He held eye contact with you as he sucked his fingers clean before leaning down and kissing you again, his hand finding its place on the back of your neck to keep you close. He slowly lined himself up with you, his tip rubbing against your entrance making him let out a small groan. 

He slowly pushed into you, burying his face into your neck as he stretched you out with his dick. He let out a heavy huff at the feeling of being inside you. It felt euphoric. You were so unbelievably tight as he continued to inch himself further in. You let out a moan that was muffled by his hand as he finally pushed in the rest of his dick with one stroke. “You good?” he asks as he pulls his head away from your neck and looks at you. You were still for a few moments before you nodded your head - finally adjusting to the stretch.

The moment you nodded your head, he slipped out before thrusting right back in. He let out a low groan as he repeated the movement over and over, making sure you could feel every inch of his cock deep inside you. You leaned your head back against the stall door as he thrusted in and out of you with a quick pace. His hands grab at your hips roughly to keep you still while he thrusts in and out of your tight hole. “God.. Holy fucking shit,” he mumbled under his breath as the sound of skin hitting skin echoed through the bathroom. He loved being deep inside you like this. It felt so fucking good. Even more so now because it was a way to reassure himself you were still here with him and not one of the many corpses he saw earlier.

The thought you could be dead soon spurred him on to fuck you harder. He hated that possibility. He didn’t want to think about that. He just wanted to think about you. How your head was thrown back, how your arms were wrapped around his shoulders, how you tried to keep quiet but struggled because he made you feel so good. He loved every fucking part of you - you were perfect.

"Fuck - I love you. Do you hear me? I love you so fucking much. Please say it back" he spoke as he thrusted into you quickly, his pace getting sloppy as he drew ever-so closer to a sweet release. God, he wanted to fill you up with his cum but he needed to hear you say that you loved him like he loved you. He needed to know you cared for him and wouldn’t leave him anytime soon. You nodded your head before forcing yourself to look him in the eyes. “I-I love you too,” you speak and the groan he lets out is so loud.

He immediately releases with one last thrust, making sure his cum spills deep inside of you. You released along with him with a moan and you both stilled. It was quiet for a few moments aside from the heavy breathing that filled the bathroom. He leaned his forehead against yours and closed his eyes as he came down from his high. His hands slowly trailed up from your hips to your face as he gently held your cheeks in his hands.

“I love you,” he repeats as he opens his eyes and looks into yours. There was very much a different kind of look in his eyes this time. A look that told you how much he really meant what he said. There was a hint of fear in his eyes too as he genuinely feared that he may lose you sooner or later to these stupid games.

“I know,”

[fan-goddess]

If he’s a ghost, I can be a phantom

Authors Note: So this has taken way too long for me to write. I hit way too many blocks last year so hopefully i won't have the same with this one. I think though I'll be taking a haitus just to clear my head, as i want to take some space while i focus on other things

Word count: 14.2k words

Taglist: @hoosbandewan @humanpurposes @watercolorskyy @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee

Warnings: Heavy sexism, patriarchal views, cheating, angst, sexual tension, does reader come off as i'm not like other girls? kissing, blood, descriptions of bullet wound, talk of one night stands, alcohol, arousal, threats of murder, pervy men (if i miss any which im sure i did let me know so i can add it.)

The mission was not supposed to go like this.

It was supposed to be a quick and easy mission, but you suppose simplicity is not as easy to maintain or even believe to be true, when you’re bleeding with a gunshot wound to your shoulder and at least a litre and a half of blood spilled on a once pristine white carpet.

Tom Bennett is supposedly one of the best of the best. He was recruited when he was still pretty young from the army, and since then, had been trained ruthlessly to know how to shoot and where the places had to be to look like somebody else’s vengeance.

You yourself were similar, but you actually had the smarts going for you rather than the brawn. Soon as you graduated from university with a degree in foreign communications, two men in suits were sitting on your sofa describing what’ll happen and how in very painstakingly detailed ways.

You’d never met Agent Tom Bennett before the mission briefing, but you had certainly heard of him. Son of a pacifist from Manchester, who ironically likes to get into one too many fights that the agency, while not being happy about paying the damages for, does not mention since Bennett does the job needed. What you hear most however from your coworkers, is how he never leaves a mission without a notch in his post, even if it’s from his fellow agent.

So when being told your mission and your partner, your male supervisor gave you a once over and told you to keep your head high and your legs firmly shut. And like the good girl you pretended to be, you just nodded your head so you could work and die someplace better than the dreary country that is mother England.

Even sitting in that briefing room waiting for Agent Bennett to grace you all with his presence you swore you could feel the eyes of every person in that room making bets in their heads whether you’d sleep with him on the mission or not. And by how you analysed everyone watching you, the probability of it being yes was quite frankly staggering.

“Hello hello hello!” A man's voice says, and when you turn to look at the intruder unlike everyone else who simply didn't care enough to turn, you’re met with such a cocky smirk you know exactly who this is.

“And who is this pretty little lady?” Tom says, finally directing his attention to you who just continues to sit there with a blank face.

“It’s Agent to you Agent Bennett.”

“Oh is it now? Well I’m very sorry, agent. I’ll be sure to address you right from now on shan’t I? Though I’m sure with our mission we’ll get on like a house on fire by the end.” Agent Bennett grins, sitting down directly next to you and plopping his arm round your neck. Though to his own amusement only, you immediately shove him off you and move yourself further down the sofa with a huff.

The supervisor overseeing the mission's progress thankfully manages to distract him by beginning the debriefing.

“Agents, we are sending you to France in a few weeks to-“

“Fuck off!” Agent Bennett shouts which even after all your training still manages to make you jump in your seat.

“As I was saying,” The supervisor starts again, glaring hard at Agent Bennett who sulks in his seat like a child on the verge of a tantrum. “You’ll be going to France to infiltrate and retrieve some information from a corrupt politician's estate that he keeps in a hard drive inside of a vault in his office.”

“What’s the security on the estate and vault?” You ask, as Agent Bennett it seems is still acting like a spoiled child after being told he needs to go to France, when already off the top of your head you could list so many other much worse places he could’ve been told he needed to go.

“The usual security protocol. He has security cameras equipped with night vision, guards to patrol the grounds as well as guard dogs trained to attack on site, and sensors in regards to lights, doors and of course the safe, which you two need to get into. We couldn't find anything about it in our extensive research, so you'll both need to use your heads when faced with that later on in the mission.”

“Sounds impossible…” You can’t help but comment.

“Oh come on, love don’t sound so negative!” Bennett grins. You can see him looking at you from the corner of your eye but it appears you’ve already managed to grow tired of his bullshit, so instead you merely look to the supervisor who, like you, appears to be attempting to ignore the guy. “I’m sure we’ll be done before suppers on the table!”

“Sure.” You simply say, rolling your eyes while the supervisor already looks ready to chuck Agent Bennett into the enemies home arse first.

“Now, you two will be our main operatives with the surveillance team being ready to assist whenever they’re needed. It took some work, but we managed to get a good enough alibi to get you both inside as it turns out our politician has a fancy for private masquerade balls.”

As he says this a much younger recruit who looks barely old enough to drink in Europe passes you and Agent Bennett your individual case files, and when you open it to look at your latest identity, you find yourself having to hold in your disgust.

“Mrs Dahlia Carrington?” You can’t help but question out loud, already dreading what Agent Bennett will say.

“Yes wife?” Like clockwork, his annoying voice rings out boiling your blood with every syllable. “As Mr Thomas Carrington, I suppose it is my duty to make sure my beloved is dressed to her best!”

“Never call me that again.”

“Just getting us both into the mood sweetie!”

“Don’t call me that either!” You snap, turning to him with a clenched fist that you oh so desperately want to damage his pretty smirking face with.

“Enough the both of you!” Your supervisor begs, glaring at you and Agent Bennett and making you feel like a child being lectured by their parents. “Agent Bennett, I for one can say have had enough with your playboy nature and how it constantly affects your missions. Will you behave this time, or will I need to prepare another incident report for your arrival with an extra year or two suspended field training?”

And like a child who’s been lectured by a parents, Agent Bennett pouts with a furrowed expression.

“No sir…”

“Good. Now learn your documents and meet with your team. They have the necessary equipment you’ll be needing to get familiar with. Formal wear included.”

You take the supervisor's ending nod as your dismissal and take the file in your hand as you leave. You do not dare look at Agent Bennett, especially as he begins to moan again only this time because he’s been told he has to wear a suit and tie, yet still you manage to get the feeling of goosebumps erupting on your back as you swear you feel his gaze roam your behind.

You cannot be bothered to snap at the man again, so you just sigh loudly to let him know of your annoyance at his actions, and his deep chuckle rings through your mind as you walk away.

As you sit on the stool waiting for your outfit to arrive for you to try it on, you read the file carefully making sure to try and memorise every word possible.

The man whose house you are to sneak into, with help of Agent Bennett as the supervisor had spoken in the debriefing, is a pure French blooded politician whose work slowly turned more and more poisoned against the good of the people. Most recently, he’s gotten access to certain information that could bring about war if placed into the hands of the wrong people, and like the idiot he is, he’s kept it on his computer in his estate.

So what you and Agent Bennett are simply assigned to do, is act like you’re both members of high society to get inside the politician's home and retrieve the information stored most likely on his laptop.

It seems very simple. But then again, all the files of Agent Bennett's other missions seemed simple too, and most of them ended up in millions of pounds in property damage and at least a couple hundred dead bodies needing an explanation only the government could provide.

“Here we are my dear!” The stylist says as he walks through the door with your dress in his hand.

Before you had been given access to missions and was stuck on desk duty, you had never realised that being an agent stylist was an actual job offered here at headquarters. But now that you’ve been upgraded and done a good amount of missions you definitely see why it’s necessary, especially since the bulletproof vest has certainly saved your skin once or twice.

“Oh Stan, it's gorgeous!” You gush as he hangs it on the rack and steps back to allow you to see it in its full glory.

The dress's colour is mainly a deep blue, similar to that of a sapphire, but in the middle where the deep blue fabric separates the fabric is a much lighter shade that you can only describe as being like the cornflowers you see in the fields. The dresses shoulder cuffs are short with a barely noticeable belt keeping the dress firmly fitted. The same sapphire shade continues down the dress till the very end, which happens to be just around your ankles which is the just the way you like your dresses to be.

Overall, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

“I’m glad you think so.” Stan smiles, stepping back towards the dress so he can show you the extra special details not seen by the public. “Now the fabric this is made out of is bullet resistant thread. It’ll stop the bullet going in you, but it’s not perfect. If you’re under fire and hit one too many times it’ll rip and you’ll get shot. Understand?”

“Understood.”

“Good. The dress is tailored for your preference, as I remember you saying you didn’t like too long dresses. Also, it’s not too short so it shows the knife or pistol that you will no doubt have strapped to your thigh. Other than those two things the dress is pretty explanatory and simple. Still, anything you wanna ask about?”

“Why blue?” You can’t help but ask. Usually you’d be asking all about the dynamics and the science behind it. But right now, you can’t help but feel curious when looking at the colour of the dress that you rarely ever see on your other wardrobe items.

“Cause Agent Bennett said it’d bring out your eyes.” Stan simply says, full on cackling with amusement when he sees your face melt into an untimely scowl.

On the day before the mission, the supervisor claimed that to get into a better mindset for the roles you and Agent Bennett needed to play, you both needed to spend a night in a nearby hotel.

Though you should’ve known that bastard was up for something when he smiled whilst he said this, as after speaking to the female receptionist, who seemed all too eager in your opinion in eyeing up your pretend husband, and heading to the room, you discover only one bed. And what’s worse, if it somehow could’ve been, is that it was covered in rose petals.

The supervisor had booked the two of you a honeymoon suit.

It was like he was enticing Agent Bennett to attempt to sleep with you, not that you’d ever let him get near enough though of course.

“Well could’ve been worse I s’pose!” Agent Bennett sniffs as he walks around the room. He opens every cabinet, leaves every door open, chucks his bags and other belongings on the bed until eventually his unique bout of chaos settles and he’s sitting on a sofa chair by the open window with an open bag of peanuts in one hand, a bottle of soda in another, and an old fashioned movie playing in the background.

“What?” He muffles with his mouth full. “If the agency is paying for it all, which I know they are, better make the most of it Mrs!”

“Don’t call me that.” You simply say, refusing to admit he’s actually correct for once in his statement. Instead you just take the time to organise your suitcase and your belongings so everything is where it should be and in a discreet place in case housekeeping decides to visit while you’re away.

This evening, you and your pretend husband were going to go, or rather are being ordered to go, downstairs for dinner to further push this idea that the two of you were just a regular married couple.

So about an hour before the dinner reservation in the hotels restaurant while Agent Bennett was too busy trying to find a channel on the hotels tv that wasn't all in bloody French, you slipped into the bathroom to attempt to slip yourself in a dress suitable enough for an evening meal, but not too revealing as to look like you're trying to be invited to work undercover in the red light district.

You stare at the five differently styled dresses you narrowed your two suitcases to, and can't help but sigh to yourself. How on earth have you managed to get yourself in this particular situation?

"Oi! You gonna be any longer missus? Think I'm gonna piss myself here with how long you've been on the loo for!"

"Piss off the balcony for all I care, I'm changing!" You yell back, not looking away from the line of dresses hung up on the shower curtain line.

"Touchy touchy... well if ya want I could always come in and-"

"Over my dead body!" This time, you sharply turn to the door and glare as you picture Agent Bennett on the other side with his smug smirk and his crossed arms that manage to somehow make his biceps bigger than what they were. Ugh it makes you sick in the stomach just thinking about them.

"For god's sake love open the door and I'll choose the god damn dress so you can quit fussing and I can quit trying not to piss myself over the carpet! I don't wanna barge in cause you're a lady and all that but i'm a desperate man over here!" He says, and you can't help but giggle for a moment as you imagine him hopping about with crossed legs and his arms crossed over his bladder. Still, with a straight face you unlock and open the bathroom door and stand aside as to your amusement, Agent Bennett just as you imagined, shuffles into the room with his legs fused together.

"The red one." He simply says, barely managing to get a look at them all before deciding on one you suspect at random.

"But it's got that massive slit down the side that shows my knee. I want to be formal, not like I'm looking for a good time."

"So go with the yellow." He quickly fires, definitely making eyes at the toilet.

"Washes me out like Edward Cullen."

"He an ex of yours or something? Green looks charming."

"I'm gonna respectfully choose to ignore that statement and accept your apology. Besides, I don't have the shoes to go with it."

"Choose the black one or I'm pissing with or without you in the room. And a word of warning, I think a number two may be coming up on the horizon sweetheart."

"You're disgusting." You snap, grabbing all the dresses from the shower curtain rail and swiftly retreating from the room. You can hear Agent Bennett's unique chuckle echo as you begin shutting the door behind you, and you refuse to believe it's why your heart feels like it's beating a million beats a second hard against your rib cage.

You stare in the mirror as you place the black dress in front of yourself in an attempt to see how it looks, and you can't help but think damn. You look fucking hot.

As you walked beside Agent Bennett arm in arm into the restaurant, you swore you could feel somebody's eyes resting on you. Even after the two of you had sat down and ordered some drinks, the back of your neck felt sweltering from the eyes of another.

“It’s cause of the dress.” Your pretend husband insisted as he sipped on some of the red wine. Apparently ordering a plain old lager wasn’t very upper class of him. “Your tits look really good in it.”

“Don’t look at my breasts agent Bennett!” You scowl, moving your arms to shield his and possibly even the other set of eyes from your slightly revealed skin.

“Maybe don’t call me agent Bennett whilst we’re undercover wifey.” He smirks, choosing to blissfully ignore your previous demand.

“Fine! Husband, do not stare at my breasts in public.”

“So you’re fine with me going it in the privacy of our room? Good to know.”

“If we weren’t in public right now I swear I’d-“

“Are you both ready to order some starters?” A voice interrupts you admittedly with a start. When you turn around a relatively young man possibly even younger than yourself stands there in a fancy suit and a small notebook in hand. He’s got a charming smile you suppose, but the eyes tell an entirely different story as you can see him very clearly taking the opportunity to look down the front of your dress.

“I’ll take the dived scallops with charred leak, onion broth and pink purslane.” You snap the starter menu shut loudly which thankfully draws the attention of the waiter from your breasts. He even seems to be bashful as his face turns a light pink and he coughs a few times as he adjusts himself.

“And you sir?” He finally squeezed, turning to Tom who looked at the man unimpressed as if he wasn’t doing practically the same thing not even five minutes ago.

“I’ll take the same as my wife.” Tom emphasizes those last two words firmly while he glares at the poor boy who begins to stutter out an apology towards you.

"I-I'm sorry ma'am! I'll send someone else over to take the rest of your order!" And like that, the lad runs off with his tail between his legs, leaving you with a distinct yet mixed feeling of both shame and gratitude, while Tom begins to chug the rest of his glass of wine and refills the empty glass with a smile like the cat who ate the canary.

Five minutes go by filled only with the background noise of the restaurant's classical music and the conversations of other hotel guests, and finally another person comes over dressed in the same looking suit.

"Hi my name is Henriette and I shall be taking the rest of your order and helping you with any issues you may or may not face for the rest of the evening. I see my colleague has already taken your starters, but could I please have the rest of your intended food order?" Compared to the other guy, this woman certainly acts like she belongs here.

"I'm afraid to say my dear that my husband is very particular with his food order so I will be deciding for him or else we'll both end up going hungry! I shall have for my main the ratatouille, while he'll have the beef carbonnade. For desserts, me and my husband will each have a chocolate ganache cake with the amarena cherries.”

“Perfect choice Madame!” Henriette smiles as she takes the yours and Tom’s menus before nodding her head to you slightly and walking away.

“I’m very particular with my food?”

“Yes. Like a child who refuses to eat their vegetables because they’re green.”

“I would take offence to that if it wasn’t true.” Tom admits, even shrugging his shoulders while you giggle slightly at his action.

The rest of the evening is filled with chatter and smiles that are not as reluctant as you’d like to admit. That stare you felt at the beginning of the night washes away as you concern yourself with Tom and his antics that leave your cheeks aching from how relaxed you've been with him.

The food soon arrives one after another, and each time a plate is placed in front of Tom he gives you a look of untrustworthiness as he raises his fork and moves to take a bite. Yet every time he does this he gives you a look of satisfying defeat which you always respond with a smile.

By the time the desserts arrive, Tom has eaten every bite of the food you chose for him, and you remember that fact distinctively so you could rub it in his face later on.

"So... how's the food been?" You can't help but ask as you savor the way too overpriced little cake that's about the same size as the distance between your thumb and your palm.

"They've been pretty good." He grunts, eyes focused on the cake he doesn't care about the size of, only the rich taste and the thought of how younger he would've killed for this sort of food.

"Pretty good? If we weren't in public I'd think you were about to lick the goddamn plate."

"Not my fault the portions are small as fuck."

"Tom, don't swear in public, it's unbecoming!"

"Jesus what are you my father now? Or my sister?"

"Tom, what are you talking about?" Your brow furrows in confusion at Tom's sudden change in mood. Where was that person who half an hour ago was joking and riling you up with only the topic of your own boobs for gods sake and who is this moody teenager that replaced him?

"Cause I know you're just putting up with me cause you were assigned to me." he begins, but pauses to refill his glass. That's when you realise exactly why his tongue seems to be so loose and why his mood is so well, moody. Tom Bennett has allowed himself to indulge practically at the very start of the mission and is now sitting in front of you pissed as a sea sailor on bloody red wine of all things. "You're probably thinking about how pathetic I am right now! Oh how pathetic is it that top agent Bennett is getting drunk so early!"

"Jesus Christ Tom, can you keep it together!" You attempt to whisper, but ultimately fail as you see everyone is slowly beginning to turn to look at the two of you including the waitress from earlier.

So in an attempt to halt the damage already made, you grab Tom's arm and try to pull him from his chair so you can drag him back to your room and let him sleep this mood swing off. Though that's about as effective as running through water as he just slumps against you and nearly knocks you straight to the floor, training be damned it seems.

"Do you wish for me to help you Madame? I could get someone at the front desk to help?" The familiar voice of Henriette says.

"No thank you I am perfectly capable Henriette. I am used to dragging my husband away when he's gotten into one of his moods. As much as he denies it every time he has never been very good at holding his alcohol no matter the amount of times he does it." You have to force yourself to act calm and like a true high class lady, but anyone with eyes could see how frustrated you were at that moment as you refrained yourself from whacking Tom over the head and teaching him a lesson.

You somehow manage to get Tom out of the dining hall with the stares of every man and woman in that room no doubt judging your sham of a marriage with their eyes and tongues. Just as you're about to leave though, you suddenly remember the bill and almost go straight back leaving Tom in the middle of the corridor whilst you sort it out, but then with a sigh of utmost gratitude you also remember how it'll be charged at the end of your stay.

“Where are you taking me, wife?” He grumbles, feeling you stop him so suddenly he gets the urge to throw up.

“Back to our room husband. Because of you and your inability to hold your alcohol, our mission may have failed before it even began.”

This time, the hotheaded agent doesn’t have a response to give you. Instead, he just closes his eyes and leans himself against you, allowing himself to be dragged to the room. In the elevator though there is some elderly woman decked to the dimes in diamonds and sapphires who gives the two of you a knowing look from where she stands.

“Long night?” She asks you, staring straight ahead as the doors close behind you.

“Tell me about it…” You laugh, grunting as Tom begins to slip and you’re forced to pull him up further against you. She laughs with you with a look in her eyes as if she’s remembering something long ago, and with that the conversation between you ends.

She gets off on the next floor, and you and Tom manage to make it back to your room giving the impression of a young dutiful wife just taking her drunk husband back to their room.

Soon as you get inside, you chuck Tom off you onto the sofa and chuckle as you imagine him waking up in the middle of the night with a sore back and his evening clothes.

You change into comfy pajamas you packed and get into bed, almost falling straight to sleep with how comfy the bed and pillows are, but not before listening to the sound of Tom's snoring that sends you into a deep sleep.

When you wake on the morning of the mission to the sound of your alarm, you can’t help but allow your eyes to be drawn to the sofa where you expect to see Toms drooped over a wine stinking body. Only there’s no one there.

“Tom?” You call out as you step out the bed and make your way to the bathroom thinking maybe he’s in there throwing up his insides. Only when you hear no response or even any throwing up noises do you enter to find it in the exact same way you left it this morning.

When you touch the sofa you take note of how it’s slightly cold to the touch, and can’t help yourself but think about Tom possibly staggering from his seat late at night whilst you slept and got himself in trouble.

The anxiety gnaws at your mind as the possibilities of what could’ve happened to him keep coming at you.

Where did he go?

What if he went looking for more alcohol in a dingy bar somewhere and got caught?

What if he’s lying somewhere dead?

By the time you come around your nails are half shredded and your legs are shaking slightly from how long you’ve been standing up. And to keep yourself sane for the time being you find yourself for the first time ever texting Agent Tom Bennett.

The agency for every new case assigns the agent a different phone with all the information and numbers needed. You’d been given yours after the debriefing, and yet somehow Tom had already begun to spam you with random texts throughout the day.

What is your favourite food? What's your drink of choice? What’s your favourite colour?

You never answered, partially because leaving him on read was an exhilarating experience. So texting him now felt strange to do.

Where are you?

You texted him that first. But after five minutes of watching the pixilated words be left unanswered and unread you sent him another.

I hope your having the worst hangover of your life. You deserve it after last night and how you acted. Show up to the mission sober if you can go so long without a drink I’m surprised the so great agent Bennett is an alcoholic

You take a break staring in order to take a shower and hopefully clear your thoughts. As you step out the bathroom and begin to towel dry your hair you hear your phone ping with a notification, and it’s as if rocks have been tied to your feet with how heavy they feel walking to your phone.

You open it with a hitched breath, and you almost get the urge to chuck it straight out the balcony doors when you see the message.

Didn’t think you’d have worried about little old me that much Mrs. And don’t worry, my hangover, which I’m sad to report is practically non existant, will probs be gone before the mission even begins. I’ll meet you there when you need me.

And when you think it’s over, he sends another

By the way it’s you’re when speaking bout my headache love, not your ;)

“Bastard.” You groan this time chucking yourself against the bed. Why does he take such pleasure in your annoyance? Why does he seem to enjoy making your life so hard?

In the end in an attempt to take your mind off the hurricane that was Tom Bennett you switch your phone off and spend the whole day in your hotel room fixing yourself up for this evening.

You firstly treat yourself to room service breakfast involving pancakes, croissants, bacon and the whole nine dimes. Then after cleaning yourself up you got onto the actual dressing up aspect.

The dress as soon as you had arrived in the room yesterday was hung up on a hook from within its protective bag in the wardrobe, and when you retrieve it and unravel it you go just as breathless as you were when you first saw it.

The blue is still as breathtaking and the length still as satisfactory. You almost get the girlish urge to put it on now and twirl around like how you did as a child in your Disney princess costume, but stop yourself as you remember Stan warning you not to crease the dress at all, so to be safe you zip the protective cover straight back up and close the wardrobes door firmly to be safe.

So you move on to trying on everything else. The bra you plan to wear isn't too important as the dress will cover up your shoulders so that's out of the way.

The shoes take up some time but in your opinion not long enough. Since practically as soon as the questions come at you their answers come shooting in quick succession behind them. The question on what was nonexistent as since you knew dancing was going to happen whether by the agencies demand or even Toms, heels were out of the question. And since there were few other shoes packed for you in your suitcase you soon found yourself with some dark navy kitten heels that managed to make you feel elegant and safe at the same time.

Makeup though was your biggest time consumer though. You spent hours thinking about what was suitable and what was not with all the products that had been packed all laid out on the dresser table in front of you.

You couldn't put too much on, as then everyone would stare and you might as well cancel the mission before it's even begun. Though you couldn't go without any or be super subtle with it all or else even then you'll get judgemental stares from people. So you spend quite a bit of time in front of the mirror putting various different products on your face and finally after what thankfully feels like forever, you find a style that suits both you and the mission at hand perfectly.

When experimenting, you did debate on possibly wearing something you think would interest the man whose house you're infiltrating, but you soon put that thought to bed when the con list became longer than the pros, not that there was even anything on there in the beginning. You had no idea what he was truly like behind closed doors apart from of course betraying his country and his people that is.

Though the one you wear now, it makes you feel powerful.

It’s a good mixture of subtle yet striking, with the use of eyeliner forcing people to look into your eyes. There’s only a little conditioner and foundation to cover up a few spots and blemishes. The only other thing you decide to use make-up wise is some lipstick that’s a little darker than your natural lip shade.

You decide to take it off as it’s still a while before you need to leave before the ball, so to waste time you do what you never would’ve done before this mission.

You sat on the bed in a complimentary dressing gown, ordered some fancy lunch, and watched reality tv. You watch it all as you eat without any complaints. It feels like you were a teenager all over again without a care in the world.

Though soon the time ticks away and it’s about time for you to get changed into your outfit and prepare your weapons. A small pistol strapped to your thigh. A signet looking ring on your ring finger that when activated, could deliver 50 thousand volts to whoever is unlucky enough to be on the receiving end of it. And your personal favourite, a pepper spray that’s disguised to look like a shade of red lipstick.

When that’s all sorted though and hidden away from the public eye, only then do you dare turn your phone back on. You don’t really know what to expect. Messages from Tom begging for forgiveness? A message from your supervisor saying you’re gonna be extracted as Toms blew the mission?

You will say what you do find when you turn your phone. Nothing. No messages, no notifications, nothing.

It’s a blow to the stomach but you take it on the chin and deal with it, especially when it's Tom you’re dealing with.

Walking down to the lobby to get to the car that’ll bring you to the rich guy's mansion, you can feel the stares of others on your skin as you walk. To keep appearances you simply sway your hips as you pass to show you are unbothered by your past, and smile at yourself like you own the world.

Which you certainly feel like when you realise the car that’ll be dropping you off is a smaller yet still classy limousine, even equipped with an equally handsome man who opens the door for you to get in.

“Good evening Mrs Carrington,” The kind man begins as you slowly sway closer. “My name is Webster, and I shall be your chauffeur for the duration of this service. There are drinks within the back as-well as many small snacks in case you were feeling particularly peckish. Do you have any questions for me?”

“No thank you Webster I believe any I thought of have already been answered.” You just simply say with a smile of gratitude as you duck into the car and let out a sigh you didn’t even realise you were holding as you sat down on the soft leather.

You turn your head slightly to get a look at these drinks and small snacks on offer, and it truly does seem all your questions have been answered as you meet the eyes of your pretend husband for the evening as he drinks at a bottle of unlabelled substance.

“I’d have thought after yesterday you’d avoid alcohol…” You can’t help but snidely comment, watching as he grumbles at it.

“I came back didn’t I? Ain’t that the most important thing?”

“The most important thing Bennett, is you making sure you don’t screw this mission over with your day drinking.” You respond, and in an act of retaliation that shocks even you, you make a grab at the bottle of drink and sniff at the top to try and tell what it is.

Though you suppose it’s even more shocking for you to discover that the bottle doesn’t smell like cheap booze as you thought it was, but actually it was the scentless yet still recognisable scent of water.

“Not had a drop since yesterday.” Tom sneers, grabbing back the bottle to take another swig. "Wouldn't want to embarrass the perfect little agent anymore than I already have."

"Don't call me that Bennett." You snap, looking at him with hate in your eyes as you try to think back to the nice man you talked with yesterday.

"Why not Mrs? Aren't you the one who's got the 100% success rate in all their missions? The one who always catches the bad guy with not a single scratch on her soft delicate skin?" Tom continues to antagonise you and you swear you're this close to yanking that bottle from his hands and whacking him to death with it in this very car.

"Let's just focus on the mission, husband, so then this can all be over and done with and we can go back to never talking too or even better not even seeing each other again. Alright?"

"Fine..." He amusingly grumbles as he slumps further into the seat. "Run the plan by me again Mrs as I'm sure you've memorised it all already."

"I actually have, but if you insist. We get into the venue posing as Mr and Mrs Carrington, then socialise for a bit to appear as the average bourgeoisie couple, maybe even dance a bit if we need to. After that we head to the politician's office to extract the information from the hard drive within the vault. Hopefully we should be out and back in bed before midnight. Any questions?"

Tom, deciding to be the class clown in a car of only three people, raises his hand as if in a classroom. "I've got a question Mrs! Who said anything about dancing?"

"The supervisor did. As according to him we need to fit in as much as possible and that includes dancing whether you like the idea or not. Oh, and one more thing silly old me forgot to mention. Don't flirt with any lonely wives or daughters."

"Oh come on Mrs don't you think I have some self restraint?" He attempts to laugh with a smile on his face that soon much to your own amusement however, is quickly wiped away when he sees the dead seriousness of your expression and voice. "Do you really think that little of me?"

"Well within the first full day of knowing me you got drunk as a sailor after being honest for two seconds with me, then left in the middle of the night to do god knows what in the streets. So yes Agent Bennett, that is what I think of you."

"You remind me of my sister... I don't say that often or with great pleasure..." Tom grumbles while you yourself find yourself acting surprised at his words.

"You've got a sister?" You find yourself asking.

"Yeah. Lois. The brains of the family while I got the looks. Was a singer in a pub before she got the qualifications after having a baby to become a nurse at some great big hospital. Dad's little brainy-box while I'm sitting in a jail cell for another night." This time, you don't say the words that immediately pop into your head. As even as helpful as they will try to sound you know he'll take it as pity whichever way you say it. "Though I suppose I got the looks at least! We can agree on that, can't we missus! What you say after this we go to the pub? My treat!"

And with not even what you could say a snap of the fingers the energetic careful Agent Bennett returns. Along with the urge to smack him round the head with one hand while with the other you call HR.

"And do what? Just drinking?" You find yourself asking.

"Sure! And maybe more if you feel like it. No pressure at all! I do like my ladies, consenting I'll have you know!"

"Oh great you like the basic rules of sex. Good to know..." You grumble, and with your last strand of patience snapping, you find a small bottle of fruity cider you remember drinking back when you were a uni student and taking a swig.

"Now who needs to be told to watch their liquor!" Tom laughs.

"Shut it or I'm throwing you out of the car myself and making you walk."

"But I dunno where I'll be heading sweetheart!"

"Then ask a local for directions."

"But I don't speak french?"

"39% of the French population say they can speak English. With how much of a talker you tend to be, I'm sure you won't have much of an issue finding someone!"

After yours and Tom's little marital spat, as Tom himself called it as he grumbled like a toddler slouching against the seats, the rest of the ride to the estate was filled with silence. Occasionally the sound of a honking car or the regular noises of the bustling city life broke the silence, but apart from that you and Tom made no effort to get along.

You sometimes take a sip of the cider you opened without much thought, and you regret very soon as the taste washes over your tongue. There’s a reason why you drank this at uni. It’s cheap, it’s strong, and after a couple bottles you can’t remember your own name.

“We’re about five minutes from the location Mr and Mrs Carrington,” The driver says through the little intercom. “I suggest you start thawing out before the entrance.”

You and Tom look at each other from the corner of your eyes, and deep down know the man is right. Even if the two of you couldn’t stand each other right now, for the sake of the country as much as Tom claims to hate it you both do not want the innocent people to suffer.

“Fine.” You spit.

“Fine.” Tom grumbles back.

So like the loved-up couple you were both playing to be, with neither knowing who began moving first, yours and Tom's hand found each other and clutched together in a firm embrace.

When the both of you get out of the car at the front of the politician's house, your hands still clutch hard against one another as you both adorn the masks you’ve been given to conceal your identity.

In an almost ironic turn of events, you were given the mark of the devil, and Tom the mask of the angel.

"Looking good Mrs." You hear Tom say.

"Save it!" You simply snap back with your eyes facing straight forward. If he wants to try and make you begin liking him again with simple words, he's gonna have to try much harder than that. Preferably on his knees, but you don't mind as long as he truly shows his regret.

And with how you can practically hear him rolling his eyes at you, you know he'll at this point need to be doing a lot more than getting on his knees for you if you had anything to say to him.

The target as expected wasn't at the door to greet his guests. Instead, he simply walked around the rooms like God's greatest gift and allowed them the honour of approaching.

Only he wasn't going to be the spider standing idly by waiting for the fly to come to him. Tonight, he was the ignorant fly while you and Tom sat perched in your little web, venom ready awaiting the right moment to strike.

"You seen him yet angel?" Tom murmurs against your ear as he leads you into the main ball room with his hand perched firmly on your lower back. You can feel the warmth of his palm alone through the fabric of your clothes, and you hate the way it makes your stomach churn in a way that leaves you craving for more.

"If I saw him, I'd tell you." You just simply say, turning your head away from him as you still feel where his breath had tickled you. Somehow though, you didn't manage to pluck the courage inside you to move from his hand that still firmly imprints itself against you.

You can hear him lightly chuckle beside you, and with a quick yet heavy sip of the complimentary champagne you were offered when you both walked through the door, the mission began.

With every step forward you felt daggers piercing the back of your neck, and with every sudden high pitched laugh belonging to some man's wife you felt the grip on Tom's arm suddenly tighten.

"What you doing that for?!" He suddenly whispers after the fifth time.

"Something doesn't feel right..." You try to reason, resisting every urge to turn around.

"Oh I'm sorry. I guess I didn't realise I was partnered with the bloody girl who saw dead people."

"If we were not in this room full of people I want you to know I would've smacked you round the back of the head for that."

"Careful love. If you do it I may just like it."

"Save it for the gullible women you manage to con into sleeping with you." You attempt to seem disgusted at his actions as you think about how many women seem to be affected by Tom's typical charm, but then you're reminded that you were one of the women who'd fallen victim to his boyish-like smiles and his dopey laugh. You'll never admit this to anyone, but your face may have turned a little pink at the memory.

"Only if that gullible woman is you my sweet." Tom quips right back, smiling at you in such a way it feels like your heart may beat out of your chest. Yet to stop him from charming you anymore, you just roll your eyes and nudge Tom into the direction of the bar.

"Thought you said I wasn't allowed to drink?

"I did. It's just the extra cherry on top of the milkshake being able to drink in front of you. Like eating chocolate in front of a child past its bed time." You grin, ordering a double gin and tonic and finishing that first sip with an exaggerated sigh. "Husband, would you mind paying the bartender for my drink pretty please? I seem to have left my purse at home!"

"Any man that makes his wife pay for her own drinks looking like that in that dress is no man." The bartender comments, looking you up and down as he takes Tom's card and puts it through the machine. While the man's back is turned for a moment you can't help but observe him.

You recognise him from the list of employees you looked at before arriving tonight. His name is Henry Clarkes, a ginger middle aged man from Exeter currently on his 3rd marriage collapse. Though to be fair, that wouldn't have happened if he hadn't gotten another girl even younger than yourself pregnant with his 4th child. Though that's just your opinion...

By your side Tom grumbles something illegible as he stares daggers into the back of the man's head. And to your surprise, he only manages to push out an obviously strained thanks that even the man behind the bar chuckles at. So before Tom takes it upon himself to leap across that bar and beats the man black and blue, you take Tom's hand firmly in your own to squeeze it tight and drag him away from the scene.

"Bet you loved that." He says soon as you're far enough away. "But you would've taken him into our hotel room if I wasn't there!"

"Fucks sake Tom if i'd have known you were just as a dickhead sober I would've gotten you a drink before we came here. Maybe it would've made you more bearable..."

"So you don't deny it!" He growls, pulling you with a yelp as he forces you to a wall at the edge of the party. "You would've fucked him in our bed?"

"Jesus Tom no I would not have fucked that random man in our hotel bed!" You try to whisper, but it's sort of hard too when there's gossipy women practically circling you where you stand. "Unlike you, I don't sleep with random people I've met in the span of less than a minute!"

"I don't do that anymore!" Is that his defence? Really?

"Since when? This morning!?"

"Since I realised I'd be working with you a few weeks ago." It's the way he says it so quickly you suppose is what makes you so flustered. The way he had no hesitation in the words as if he had been waiting to say them all his life.

"Tom... I-"

"My my and who are these two lovebirds tucked away in the corner?" A voice suddenly says, bursting the two of you out of whatever trance you were entrapped in. You both turn to this person, and you have to physically stop yourself from reacting when you recognise them. The exact man whose home and party you just sneaked into, the corrupt french politician.

"I'm Dahlia Carrington monsieur, and this is my husband Thomas! I apologise for our behaviour, we were just having a little argument and-"

"Oh no need to apologise mademoiselle! I myself have at least one argument a day with my own wife!" That's cause you've been cheating on her with the nanny of your four children all under the age of 12. If it wasn't so sad to think about given the age gap, you'd have laughed at the cliche of it all. "Let me guess! She's been hitting the cards and the drinks a little too hard huh?"

Did this man really just manage to call you a gold-digger and some kind of alcoholic all in one insult? You think he did. Tom thinks it too, by the way he seems to glare the same kind of despising glaring at this man just like how he did at the bartender.

"Sure." Tom grits out, his jaw clenched down hard. You look down, and see that even his whole body is reared up.

Yet it seems this man is as dense as his security is, since he just keeps on talking.

"You know what you need to do son? Need to get her on a tighter leash if you ask me!" If Tom doesn't hit him, you definitely will at this point. "Maybe even give her a child! Cause I can tell from her figure alone that she hasn't had any yet! But trust me on this, only have a single son! Cause then you've got the heir, the wife off your back, and a still tight one when you need it! Oh, and by the way mademoiselle, you may want to smile a bit more. Makes you look all wrinkled and old."

How is this man smiling right now at you? He has just told you that you were pretty much just at best, a childbearing sex doll for your husband, and he's just standing there with the biggest fucking grin on his face drinking some million dollar looking champagne. How fucking dare?

"Ooh! I must be off now! There are so many guests to see and so little time... au revoir my good friends!" He smiles, disappearing into the crowd of the bourgeoisie, leaving you and Tom at the edge with anger written clearly on both your faces.

"I'm gonna kill him." You say first.

"Not if I do it first." Tom responds immediately after. "I'll push him down the stairs so everyone will claim it was cause he was drunk."

"I was just gonna shoot him in the head."

"Wouldn't that blow our cover?" Tom curiously asks, turning to you while you look back at him with a unique smile on your face that Tom can't help but cause a shiver to run up his spine.

"Doesn't matter to me. At least I get the satisfaction of knowing I rid the world of another patriarchal dickheaded twat..." You firmly say, watching Tom's mouth slowly turn into an almost impressed smirk.

"Fair enough wife. Fair enough."

Tom takes your hand in his as he slowly directs you through the room till you get to the staircase to the upper floors. Thankfully they haven't been shut off to the public, and instead people are being encouraged to look around and marvel at all the weird and frankly sort of disturbing memorabilia adorning the walls, such as stuffed animals being glass and paintings of worryingly young girls.

"His office is another floor up. If we continue looking like some regular prissy couple then we can get there easy." He says directing you further down the corridor to yet another set of stairs.

"If I knew I'd need to be climbing up so many stairs I'd have requested the costume team to have packed me more comfortable shoes..." You grumble as Tom looks over his shoulder to merely laugh at your pain.

"Awe, is the poor little lady unhappy she has to climb some simple stairs?" He pouts as he tilts his head, laughing loud at how you scowl at him. "I would've thought little miss perfect would've actually looked at the mission plans before this. My my was the mrs slacking?"

"Idiot." You simply sigh, rolling your ankles as soon as you get to the next floor. "I did look at the plans I'll have, you know! It's not my fault that it was never specified the height of the stairs..." You mumble. You can see Tom laugh slightly with a delighted twinkle in his eye as he looks at your pouting lips. He sure loves to see you suffer....

"I mean I could've carried Mrs up if her royal highness had asked me." Tom shrugs, laughing as you take the time to wack him on his upper arm with the back of your hand. "Hey hey hey Mrs don't hit our loving devoted husband! I did offer!"

"Yeah, when we were already up the stairs!"

"At least I offered at all! Besides, the office is just up here. You've stretched your ankle enough." Tom groans, grabbing you by the wrist this time to lead you. You grumble behind him as you look around at the corridor for any cameras and any extra security.

You spot three cameras already by the time you both get to the door, and tap Tom's hand to let him know. Thankfully you can't see anything else that would get in the way of the mission like a keypad or a retinal scanner. If you had to admit, it was sort of basic considering what information the man was storing and with how much money he had.

"You got it?" He pulls you in close to murmur against your ear. To those currently watching, it would've looked like a husband leaning in to whisper some romantic words to his wife.

"Of course." You simply murmur back, fiddling with your earring as you find the tiny switch and press it. It's amazing what kind of technology the intelligence lab can come up with, as to any other person looking at you they may have thought you were wearing simple ordinary earrings. But, in actuality they were specially designed in order to, when having the switch pressed, would expel a small burst of electromagnetic waves that'd disrupt the cameras feed, giving the organisation enough time to replace it with a fake copy. "Should be replaced now."

Usually, the organisation would have people on hand to hack into the cameras and change the feed. But apparently they couldn't do it within the time they got to the secure location and the time you'd be getting to the location. So for the time being, the earrings had to do.

"Then let's get inside. Stupid bastard doesn't even have a lock on the door." He laughs, stepping inside and closing it behind you. "He even left his safe in clear view of the room! What a twat!"

"Careful Tom!" You can't help but say, watching as he strides across the room with no possible caution for danger. "We don't know exactly what sort of security this man has on his safe!"

"Then I suppose we better figure it out then Mrs." He continues to smile, this time walking directly up to the safe as he puts on a pair of gloves you didn't know where he was even hiding them. "Seems pretty simple to me..."

Tom puts his head against the cool material of the box and slowly begins to turn the dial ever so slowly so he can hear the distinct clicks from within. Slowly you walk up behind him and watch him as he works, which gives you a view of something you had no idea you'd be interested in viewing.

From where you stood you could see Tom's long nimble hands work as they touch the dial and in a strange way stroke the surface of the safe as he moves his hand. If you had to be honest with yourself, it's sort of hypnotising.

"You know I can feel you staring at me right Mrs?" Tom's cocky voice suddenly says, breaking you from whatever strange spell Tom's fingers had on you. He even turns to stare at you as he says this, and you can't find yourself even in the position to lie to yourself that Tom's grin doesn't make you feel like you have butterflies swarming right now in your stomach.

"Just open the safe Agent Bennett." You snarl, admittedly the nickname feeling strange against your tongue.

"My my back to the origins are we missus? Then it's a good thing I've got the perfect nickname for you and I'll never be using anything less for my favourite girl!" Tom turns back to the last few digits of the safe, and you're left with a blush you pray this man does not see. He still calls you Mrs after seeing how annoyed it got you. Just how long would it take to shake off the fact you blushed due to his charm?

"Are you almost done?" You ask, attempting to distract yourself and hope it goes down quickly.

"If you let me listen I'd be done quicker." He quips, letting out a loud "Aha!" when the final distinct tick sounds, and he's able to turn the wheel and open the safe door with a self-satisfied smile. "And you thought to doubt me?"

"Shut it." You sigh, stepping out the way as Tom swings the door out towards the two of you, to reveal another door.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Tom groans, the sound of which you ignore as you walk up to it and see what it is you're dealing with. Unlike the security on the last door, this one is equipped with a key pad with numbers zero through nine, and no real indication on how long the sequence needed to be.

Yet that doesn't appear to stop you as you try putting in the birthday of the nanny, to which an annoyingly loud noise sounds out indicating a failed attempt. "Two attempts remain." A male robotic voice says.

"What did you do!?" Tom shouts, forcibly grabbing your upper arm to turn you around and look at him.

"I took my shot." You simply say, taking Tom's arm in your hand and shoving it away so hard he steps back once. "And don't you dare touch me like that again Tom."

To your relief, he doesn't seem in the mood to pick a fight with you as he just grumbles under his breath staring at the door keeping the both of you from your mission.

Admittedly, you both stay where you stand for a few minutes thinking about possible numbers the politician would hold dear to him. Anything to do with his wife is immediately off the table such as anniversaries or her birthday. You'd thought he'd maybe take advantage of the nanny more than he had already, but that seems to be just as effective as the wife. That's when you suddenly get reminded of something he's said to Tom early while he was halfway through a misogynistic ramble he'd been on.

'But trust me on this, only have a single son!'

"Tom," You begin to ask, turning to said man who at the sound of his name looks back at you recognising the thinking expression on your face. "What was that thing the bastard was saying about his son?"

You say this rhetorically as you step closer and closer to the keypad with a grin as you enter the birth date of the politician's only son and youngest child, and are welcomed with the same robotic voice as before. "Welcome monsieur, to the vault." It simply says, before this time Tom's voice breaks through the silence.

"Fucking smarty pants!" He says as he moves in front of you. At first you think this is just another insult, but then you see the way his face is actually lit up in pride and realise quickly he's actually proud of you. "Knew you could do this Mrs!"

"Really?" You can't help but ask, watching as his face quickly turns serious as he looks at you. It's strange.

"Of course. You're smart, you are. More smarter than I could ever be. I mean, you actually listened to the French bastard while he was talking to us."

"You weren't?"

"No. I was just imagining my fists pummelling into his face till he swallows his own teeth and is forced to be put on life support in some shitty hospital that without him knowing bleeds his money dry as he fights for his life." He admits, watching you closely as you blink in surprise at the level of violence this man in front of you is willing to express.

"Damn... he must've pissed you off good Tom." You try to make the mood lighter, but still Tom's face stays oddly serious and calm.

"Of course he did. No one should get to talk about you like that in front of you, or even away from you, and get to smile like that ever again. Now let's get into this vault thing." Fuck. Here comes the blush and the feral butterflies in the stomach. A double whammy...

"Y-yeah lets!" You quickly say, standing close behind Tom as he opens the door and thankfully this time not revealing another door, but instead revealing a large room filled with a variety of things that would no doubt add up to millions, possibly even ranging into a billion pounds.

"Who even needs this?" Tom's voice suddenly rings out. You turn to the direction of where his voice came from, and begin to laugh hard when you see exactly what Tom is so confused by. A large bottle of what looked like it used to hold port, but now holds a deep amber coloured liquid that took you a second to realise what it is as well as some other bits floating about.

Agent Tom Bennett is holding in his hands a witches' bottle. AKA, a bottle filled with some random person's piss, toe nails, hair and other various bodily things.

You must've made him nervous as for the first time you think since the mission started he says your name in a meek manner. "What am I holding..."

"You, you're holding some poor person's piss!" You laugh, practically wheezing with no consideration for noise levels as you watch Tom's face contort into one of pure disgust and horror. He manages to put it down as gently as a man who just discovered he's holding a bottle of piss can be, yet it still manages to make you laugh so hard you almost fall over.

"That's fucking disgusting!" The poor man shouts, staring at the offending item with deeply furrowed eyebrows and hateful eyes. "Why the fuck would anyone want that?!"

"I dunno. People used to make them in order to draw in and trap harmful intentions directed at their owners like evil spirits or counteract witches spells. It's sort of cool, when you get past the fact that it's basically just piss and nails and other bodily stuff in a jar."

"Still fucking disgusting. Let's just find this stupid hard drive..." He grumbles, rubbing the hand that touched the bottle on his suit.

You continue to giggle behind Tom as you follow him through the assortment of items. By the looks of it, basically all of it has been organised into sort of sections, making the look for the area with the electronics much easier for the two of you.

After some time looking through some boxes of various things, you find a hard drive labelled with the dangerous info the politician was storing. You'll be honest, it almost felt too easy finding it.

"That's it?" You hear Tom comment from behind as you turn around to face him with the device within your pointing finger and thumb.

"That's it." You shrug, stepping forward to adjust Tom's suit jacket so you can get to the small inside pocket and place the device inside it. It's a little bigger than what was expected, but it still fits just fine within its containment.

"Are we done now," Tom starts to murmur, making you realise the position you were in. You were standing barely a breath away from him, still holding his jacket lapel with your hands keeping him close. You swear you can feel his breath fan against your face, your own face though being pulled straight out of your lungs when you for certain feel his hands slowly move to touch your waist. "I was beginning to enjoy my time with you. Maybe we can fit in a dance before we leave, huh missus?"

You can barely find yourself able to speak as you're frozen where you stand. You can barely manage to nod as you can only find yourself praying for your life that the blush on your face isn't as noticeable as you feel it being.

"Y-yeah." You finally manage to strain out, not even able to look at him as you try to focus on instead of his face a small stain near his chest pocket. Yet it seems Tom has other plans, as he removes one of the hands from your waist to your chin, which he uses only two of his fingers to gently move your head up and force you to look at him eye to eye.

You feel your eyes drawn upwards to look at his face, yet even that action doesn’t last long as you suddenly find yourself staring at his lips while he moistens them with his tongue. They’re a pretty shade of pink, and under the harsh light overhead you can swear you find them glistening slightly.

You murmur Tom's name under your breath lightly, and your eyes close as you feel his hands curl tightly around your body with a sense of possessiveness you never thought you’d get from him.

As you begin to lean closer, feeling his warm breath slowly cause goosebumps to raise all along the length of your arms, you can feel your eyes slowly close as you begin to wonder how this situation has occurred, and why the hell does it feel so right to do?

That is however, till you hear faint footsteps that sound like they're coming closer.

"Do you hear that?" You murmur as you open your eyes slightly to look at Tom, who to your slight amusement is still stuck within the moment. His eyes are still closed, and his mouth slightly puckered as he still tries to inch himself closer and closer.

"I didn't hear anything." He quickly says, not opening his eyes or anything. "Just get over here so I can-"

"They're over here!" A voice shouts in the distance, finally forcing Tom to accept the moment is over, and open his eyes to see your 'i told you so' expression.

Tom grumbles some incoherent words under his breath as he takes his gun out from his hidden inner pocket before turning to you. "Don't think this is over missus." He simply says, before turning to the direction of where the shouting came from.

You yourself just roll your eyes as you retrieve your own pistol still firmly strapped against your leg, and follow behind Tom as you both try to get some cover underneath all the ornaments and objects placed amongst each other.

There is only one main walkway that is designed to showcase every item as you walk around the room, but that doesn't mean people can't make their paths, as demonstrated when Tom walks head first through a rack of old animal fur coats. As the two of you begin to get closer to the exit, the sound of talking gets louder the more steps you take, and you both duck for cover behind a huge set of antique chests of drawers.

"Do we know how many are here?" You hear one of them say, followed by a symphony of guns being reloaded one after another. By the sounds of the guns alone, there's got to be around an even 10 guards ready to shoot you if given the command.

"The boss says can't be more than two." Another says soon after, most likely the squad leader if he's the one answering the questions. "They can't be too far, so fan out and shoot only to disarm or incapacitate. The boss wants us to question them to find out who they work for."

You and Tom from where you both are hiding look at each other in mutual understanding as the promise makes its way through both your heads at the same time. Don't leave the other behind no matter what.

Even though you had both gone through with missions that slipped last second and been tortured by one too many people, even though you both knew the other could handle it the silent declaration still happened without a shadow of a doubt. Neither Tom nor you could bear to think of the other person being hurt by this French asshole.

"Any idea how to dodge these French pricks?" Tom asks as he turns to you, much to your surprise.

"Huh... and here I thought that you'd be all ready to shoot first escape later. What's changed? Did you hit your head when I wasn't looking? Trip on some old Victorian teddy bear?" You can't help but laugh, watching Tom's face doesn't even turn to a simple smirk as he answers.

"Can't have my missus getting hurt. So have you got a plan or do we need to fall back onto the shoot first plan?"

You hate to admit it, but it's at that moment when you finally realise why it had felt so right to be in his arms. Somehow between the chaos of the mission and the short but sweet moments together, you'd fallen for the man worse than James Bond himself, Agent Tom Bennett.

"I think I can see the entrance door from here. The guards have started fanning out more in the middle of the room, which is their mistake thinking we'd still be cowering in the back corner. If we're silent and don't draw attention, then I think we can get out of the room without gunfire and any unnecessary attention. Got that?" You finally say, turning to him and watching as he nods his head in return to your question.

"Got it missus. Take the lead." He says, gesturing his hand in a random direction. You roll your eyes at the nickname but less due to annoyance, and more due to amusement that he still insists on using it even though by now, the disguises have long since crumpled away.

Still, you say nothing and just gesture for him to follow you, which he does in a heartbeat. You can hear the heavy footsteps of the guards in the distance but to your and Tom's relief they go quieter instead of louder, indicating that the group were still making their way to the back of the room.

You make your way through all manner of objects in an attempt to stay away from the main path that stays primarily visible most of the length of the way. You pass rugs, more furniture similar to those earlier sets of drawers, faberge eggs, and even coincidentally old stuffed toys.

Soon, the view of the office you had passed to sneak in came into view. It was so close. You could not tell if there were any guards on the outside which was good for the both of you, as it seems these guards were dumber than they looked.

You turned around to check that Tom had successfully followed behind you with all the twists and turns through the junk, only as you did so, you managed to catch just in time Toms shoulder banging into wobbly piece of display furniture, causing an expensive yet boring looking vase to come toppling down and smash against the hard floor.

"For fucks sake..." You mumble as shouts go off in the distance in chime with heavy footsteps that inch close and closer towards you both.

"Sorry!" Tom yells at you as he leaps up and begins firing like crazy in an attempt to get these guys before they get either of you. You have to sigh in defeat at the turn of events before you also begin to fire at these men with everything you got while also moving backwards towards the exit.

For a minute, all you could hear was gunshot after gunshot, mixed in with the sounds of the guards screaming in pain when either you or Tom managed to get one. But that all changed when you felt one of the last guards bullets burying itself within your shoulder, bringing you down hard against the floor with a surprised scream.

You can hear Tom yell out your name as the last rounds of gunfire go off. As soon as the sounds stop you feel Tom's arms enveloping you so he can pull you closer and assess the wound.

"Shit shit shit you ok missus? Where'd it hit?" Tom begs, his voice frantic as he sees the hole in you gushing blood by the second. He doesn't know if the bullet has done any more damage other than the initial tissue damage, such as bone fracture or nerve injury. If Tom doesn't get you help soon, there's a chance with those nasty ass bullets you could get an infection within the wound.

"Come on darling let's get you safe." Tom says as he takes off his suit jacket and rips off a large section of the back to create a make-shift sling for you. As soon as he deems it tight enough, Tom pulls you up and places your uninjured arm around his neck so he can support you and make sure you leave this place by his side.

Every few steps Tom takes with you on his arm he is watching the surroundings carefully with his gun in easy reach. The previous gunfire must have alerted someone else about their presence, but to Tom's surprise there was no one. No other guards springing out of walls with their guns ready to blow his and your brains out. No evil bad guy with a pathetic monologue on the tip of his tongue. It's as if they were letting him and you walk out of there free with just the gunshot wound. How the hell could it be that simple?

"You still awake missus?" Tom asks, his lips crooked as he attempts to smile for you to show nothing could be worse, even though it easily most definitely could've been. You manage to groan a small response in return, and even if he couldn't make out a single syllable, he'd recognise that smart mouthed sass of yours anywhere. "Yeah yeah I hear you... There's a car out front we can get away in fitted with medical supplies for yourself. Why we don’t get some small basic med kit to keep on hand in case this shit happens, I've got no clue..."

The mission was not supposed to go like this. It was supposed to end great. With the hard drive in the hands of the supervisor and Tom and you having dinner somewhere. Not with you leaning on him for the support while you practically bled out all because of him.

Tom can hear the blood droplets hitting the once pristine white flooring of the hallway, and each soft individual splatter sends a shiver up his spine. He has no idea why he cares so deeply about you right now, and why even the thought of you being permanently injured sends pure nausea down to his stomach. Yet he pushes the thought process down as he makes sure you don't end up losing consciousness right now. The hallway cameras should still be under the control of the organisations tech people by now, but Tom doesn't want to risk chances by lingering when he could be getting you to safety as quickly as possible.

So while making sure your body is fully supported, Tom leads you down the stairs and the other hallways to a more discreet exit away from the crowds of people still there in the ball. The music from before had been so loud that he doubts they heard anything. Plus, they were no doubt distracted with the copious amounts of alcohol they'd all been ingesting in the last couple hours. 

The camera's tom spots are all pointed away from the two of you as you make your way through the halls. The blood coming from your shoulder has slowly begun to lessen, yet still with the way your shoulder and the surrounding areas were beginning to go numb, you still could feel the faint trails trickling down your legs and hear the odd droplets fall to the floor.

"Almost there missus almost there..." Tom mutters, seeing the last door separating you both to the outside world. When he first tried to get through, the door stayed firmly shut even after Tom attempted to slam his body against it in an attempt to loosen it.

"Fucks sake!" He groans, looking down and seeing the simple key lock needed to escape. "Can afford to purchase all that useless shit and keep it behind an electronic keypad but can't be bothered to purchase an electronic lock for the front door..."

Tom carefully places you upright against the closest wall so he can kneel down and get a closer look at the problem. It's just a simple titan key needed, but seeing at how simple it is and where the door leads, it's probably in the pocket of one of the many waiters walking around, and Tom didn't exactly have the time to ask all of them which person had the key. So he did something he never thought he'd be putting to use in real life. Tom grabbed a bobby pin from within your hair, and stuck it within the key lock.

It takes him an embarrassingly long time to get it right, but eventually after a couple hundred swears and scratches on his fingers, the door opens with a soft click and a small 'hurrah' from Tom himself. He even turns to you with a victorious smirk, which you return with another exhausted groan and even an exaggerated eye roll even though you begin to feel lightheaded with all the blood that's come out of you within the hour.

"Let's get you help missus."Tom grunts as he picks you back up from the floor and directs you to the direction of a car parked not too far from the entrance. It's smaller than the original limousine that brought you to the mission in the first place, but you can't help but faintly smile when you see the familiar face of Webster watching you from the driver's seat.

As soon as Tom sets you down inside the vehicle, you feel your body slump in the most unladylike of ways against the soft exterior of the car's seats and let out a sigh of relief that it's all over.

"I trust you know about removing a bullet Agent Bennett." Webster's voice rings out through the speaker as you feel the engine begin and the car drives off.

"Sarcastic bastard..." Tom murmurs as he swiftly takes the med kit from underneath the seat and opens it to take out the tweezers and the gauze and place them beside you on the seat. Next, he removes the piece of his suit he had used to originally stem the blood flow of the wound and rips your dress slightly so he can see your shoulder better without it interfering. You'll no doubt be pissed later, but he'll just send it to Stan later to get fixed.

With the barrier gone, blood flows more steadily than what it was a few minutes ago, but it doesn't matter right now as much as it does to make sure the bullet comes out fully. "This is going to hurt." Tom simply warns before he picks up the tweezers and begins to poke and prod his way inside of the wound.

It truly breaks his heart to hear your screams of pain, but he needs to persist and find this damn bullet. Thankfully it doesn't take too long, as with the combined layer of your dress and bra it managed to not let it go in as deep as it could've. So soon enough as the pesky bugger is soon plucked out and thrown somewhere within the car space while Tom quickly takes the gauze and wraps the wound tight.

"Feeling better missus?" He asks, forcing you to look at him as your eyes slowly regain a look of focus you minutes ago were losing fast.

"Yeah..." You manage to say, wincing as you move your shoulder slightly. "I'm alright. Thanks, for not leaving me in there."

"I'd never." Tom quickly says, shaking his head and furrowing his brows to further his point. "And besides, now that I know you're ok, I can continue where we left off."

"What do you mea-"

Before you can begin to question what Tom is trying to say, his lips capture yours, and your heart feels as though it stops mid-beat between your chest. You have no thoughts running through your head right now. Your focus being only on the calming warmth of Tom's lips and the faint taste of mint.

His hands cup your waist and face delicately as if you were made of pure glass. Yet as much as you enjoyed his tender touch, you didn't want Tom to think of you as delicate. You wanted him to hold you with the knowledge you could never crumble from him. For him to know he could never hurt you.

You never want this strange feeling of right to end, but when it eventually does, with the two of you both silently attempting to catch your breaths.

"Was that good?" Tom eventually asks, staring at you with hopeful eyes. "If I made you like uncomfortable or anything I'm sorry-"

"You didn't." You say with a smile as you lean forward to peck his lips again in a sweet kiss in reassurance. As you pull away, you can see Tom's lips turned in a bashful smile and his cheeks heat up to a light pink. If you were being honest, it was really fucking adorable. Words you never thought you'd ever say about agent Bennett in your life.

"Good." He simply says, focusing on the curves of your face and trying not to think about how his face is probably bright red due to embarrassment from being so soft with a girl. "Now let's get back to the hotel."

"Why are we going back to the hotel?" You ask, confusion in your voice.

"Cause I want you to get dressed up before I take you out for a date tonight. So shower, take as much time as you need to get ready, cause I want to make this as special for you as I ever could for you. Tell me your favourite food so I can book the best restaurant available for you. I'm sure Webster can deliver the hard drive when he returns the car."

"I can indeed sir." Webster says through the intercom, scaring the two of you as you both jump slightly in your seats. "Just pop it through the slot and I can take it straight to the supervisor no issue."

"Thank you Webster!" Tom grins as he takes the device and puts it through to the other side.

Webster takes it in his hand and places it within his own suit jacket pocket. His eyes are focused on the road, but he can't deny the warmth in his chest when he sees the two of you giggling and smiling between yourself in the backseat like a couple of lovesick teenagers. He drops you and Tom at the hotel as told, but he can't stop himself from watching the two of you enter the hotel together.

As soon as Tom had stepped out before you, he made sure to reach for your hand and help you step out like a proper gentleman, and the entire walk up to the hotel doors none of you made the step to let go.

Webster watched the two of you with a smile, as he thinks to himself, he has never seen a pair of people so in love with each other.

[cator99]

I always get detained at da border because PROFUNC never ended but basically I'm like if a targeted individual didn't even care

[ecosyncrasy]

Ever since dedicating this deck to Her 💗, the readings i’ve been getting are absolutely crystal and pointed. But pulling this card after asking “how do you see me?” Made me tear up.

[jikigo]

you ever just see a post and just

. 😭

.⬅️🫀⬅️

[kabutone]

people are so shocked when they learn about the absolute depravity of the world thats right in front of them. not that its Good to be desensitized to horrific shit but like i am not surprised. every new bad news thing that comes out i am not surprised. yes, they will ignore death. they will let you die without a second thought. i'm sorry you are only just now learning this.

[grouchythefish]

Me: takes a position I know I will hate because it represents a promotion and will help me reach the place I actually want to be faster at the cost of being miserable for a few months.

Me, three weeks in: realizing I fucking hate this position and am miserable and am dreading going into work because of it.

Me: [surprised Pikachu face]

[houseofwolvess]

apparently someone in my fucking gsa is a racist cunt who keeps creeping on my little sister. this is the final straw i think

[inmirova]

In an ideal world, it would be a program for Deaf teachers, the government could even put it under vocational rehab if they wanted to! Unfortunately, even some Deaf schools don't employ many Deaf teachers and a lot of teaching jobs end up going to interpreters or just hearing & non-signing people instead. But you're right and I love what you said, we can hope 🩷

idk man. i just think itd be really cool if sign language classes were mandatory throughout primary school. yeah because it would make communication with deaf kids and autistic/nonverbal kids much easier. and those kids would be accessible to the others so they cold make friends and have healthy relationships. yeah. and kids would eat that shit up man. like their own little secret language? they love that.

[domesticated-whores]

choked so hard swallowing my drink down the wrong way that I almost puked and I'm still kinda nauseous hours later, so lol. also, friend (the mutual work friend of me and my man that actually hangs out with him outside of work) witnessed and started saying something about how some people choke on things like that bad enough that it kinda spooks them from drinking and they get dehydrated out of paranoia (no idea if that's true, sounds fake but whatever, he's one of those people yk?) and my dumb ass, full of autism and pure thoughts only, said "damn, if that were a problem I wouldn't be able to put nothing in my mouth, my gag reflex is shit 😞😞" which has probably made it's way to my man. because I'm stupid and was really woozy from coughing til I almost vomited and totally didn't think of what I was saying.

[vatelixx]

On the concept of ‘want’,

Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader (written with early-ish seasons Spencer in mind)

SMUT!! (and fluff, and aftercare because im not a total hedonist), allusions to both Spencer and Reader being switches (but he’s mostly just down bad), autistic Spencer (the way it should be), mean reader (to everyone but him), reader has a very very high IQ when it comes to everything but a pretty genius— Spencer just wants that cookie so fucking bad.

Warnings: sub spencer (but also not entirely; he talks about human anatomy as he destroys her), maaaaaybe slight corruption kink (what? who wrote that there???), mentions of prior bullying and insecurity, first time (for Spencer, yess devirgin that hot nerd!!— do you think the BAU will get him a cake after?), brief mentions of past hypersexuality for reader, kinda rlly domestic. Some undertones of degradation but predominantly praise. Begging, crying (pussy so good he cried), etc etc

w.c: 5k (I feed)

a/n: Spencer’s first time getting fucked, my first time writing smut (we’re both going through it here). I’ve been watching too much Criminal Minds recently, so i’ve reverted back to my tumblr roots (im home i’m home). This is a new acc so like…. hi!!!

────────────

Right person, right time. It’s a concept that Spencer Reid is more than aware of. Define luck, at surface level, it’s a made-up hypothesis, idealistic, fantastical. Conjured up to aid the desperate (or the delusional). It’s something he refused to humour, obstinate to the notion, well, that was until you came spitballing into his life, sharp features, sharper tongue. You could cut with your words alone, a weapon to the BAU, jagged and fast-thinking, and so entirely unattainable. Rorschach tests, and an endless sea of profilers, it doesn’t matter— he’s not sure anyone is ever capable of truly pinpointing you.

Rocky start— after you became a permanent member to the team, it took months to coerce you into dropping your guard. A year and 14 days, to be exact.

But, it was possible. Hardened words and blunt comments shifted into something more with time. A gravitational pull, perhaps, that led to evolution— you, softer with him, more tender than you’ve ever showcased before.

Maybe it was that night when he told you about highschool, about what they did to him, boys like him, who were too intellectual for their own good. Different, in every sense of the word. Bullying at such a young, impressionable age can have prominent effects, chronic stress inflicted on an underdeveloped brain, they tied him to goal posts, stripped him naked, endless torment that he still carries with him now. Maybe that’s why you lowered your defenses. Put down the sword.

And sure, he never expected anything, nor asked for anything. He was definite that he wouldn’t get to experience cliche-dating. Longing glances and anticipated moments. It’s not like he was ever the most appealing candidate, too nervous, too neurodivergent. It’s hard to grow out of the mentality that no, everyone isn’t making fun of you, not when it consumed the entirety of his adolescence. That you can walk into a room, and not be seen, targeted, as an outcast. He’s just different. But he’s also human, and the chemicals in his brain do make him want.

You apparently. Because, you looked at him softly once, and he was done. Ruined. Gone for good. Or, in Morgan’s personal opinion, whipped.

And illogically, you wanted him too. That wasn’t ever part of the equation.

But theres a pattern now— dates every weekend. Movies, cafes, museums, an endless onslaught of you. Because somehow, thanks to luck, you reciprocated. He’ll never understand why, you’re too beautiful (it’s a hazard), but he tries. He tries.

──────────────────

December. A haze of christmas markets and blanketing coldness. You kiss him outside and he thinks he might be dying. You make him burn cold. He’s a logical person, so obviously he’s aware that he’s only freezing because your hands are shoved in his pockets, a desperate bid to seek warmth, but regardless, it’s more than he ever expected.

He laughs against your lips, fingers gripping the front of your coat as he draws you backwards so that you’re resting against a wall. “Mm..” he hums, “You should kiss me more often.”

Everyone knows. The entire team is aware of this, an unspoken agreement that your lingering moments and aimless touching are not platonic in the slightest. You work with profilers, secrets are never quite effective. Everyone knows, but it’s taboo, something that needs to be left undisturbed. Do they expect you to break him? Does he? Maybe, maybe it would be worth it— to hurt for you, because it’s always been you. He’ll take anything, he’s not greedy. He’ll live off scraps if he has to, anything to satiate this want that burns solely for you.

“Actually.. you should just always be kissing me,” he suggests, tone soft, “Every day of the week. All the time. And—“ he laughs, “You should also stop stealing body warmth. It’s rude. Hypothermia usually occurs when body temperature dips to around 95F, oh oh but there are so many factors to consider—“

“Is this you trying to imply you’re cold?” you ask.

“Perhaps. Or maybe i’m implying you should be working harder to warm me up.”

You’ve grown soft, he thinks. He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this level of affection. But its okay, you justify, mostly because it’s him. Spencer, and his pretty smile, and strange habits (sitting cross legged on tables, drinking coffee with excessive sugar, endless facts and a plethora of soft yearning glances at you when you’re interrogating— as if you’re not tearing an unsub to pieces). It’s terrifying, constant eggshells, because you can’t hurt him. Not like the others, distant fragments of your past.

You laugh in response to his comment, admiring the sight of him: flushed, with swollen lips and dilated eyes. He deserves to be like this, so thoroughly assured that despite all odds, you’re invested. All cards on the table. “You have a lot of requests, boy genius.”

He smiles boyishly. You’re hard lines, sure, a blade that can draw blood, but somehow, somehow, he’s always left unscathed. “Alright,” he answers, “You want requests? Here’s one, stay the night. Come over, stay over, i’ll cook breakfast and try not to burn it— and, and you can have the good side of the bed.”

“Spence,” you mutter, because of course there’s an underlying intention to ‘staying over’ and you're trying to be good here. To not let this fall into your past mistakes of sex and inevitable self-inflicted disgust. A cyclical cycle that clings to your skin. Everything is so new to him, the intimacy, the affection, and it’s nice being able to witness it— to see his reactions to innocuous touches, always disbelieving that he’s capable of this.

Fresh-eyes, so untainted to the sharpness of modern ‘love’.

You cup his face, god, under the dim shadows of the streetlight he’s beautiful. It’s a little alarming to be honest. More so disheartening really, because despite how much you remind him, he never believes you— obstinately refusing your compliments, as if you’d ever mock him. No, he’s different. He’s tender and disarming, and sometimes it feels unholy to touch him with calloused hands.

But, to Spencer, there is nothing unholy to this; the second you touch him, the entire universe crashes down into a singular moment.

“Just stay the night,” he reaffirms. It’s taken him over a month to get to this point, to be able to voice his wants, to comprehend his wants. Now, his thumb traces its way down the side of your face, tangible, real. “And tomorrow morning, there’ll be coffee and pancakes and—“ he laughs, “And there won’t be any regrets. I promise.”

You’re looking at him, wide-eyed and slightly disbelieving (because he’s somehow stumbled through the minefield of you without any consequences). He leans forward, his forehead resting against yours. “Don’t make me beg. I will beg.”

──────────────────

To confirm, he makes you incautious, irrational, willing to blatantly disregard any sort of control. Of course you end up at his apartment; the moment he mentioned begging, you were already half-way down the street.

Spencer’s place is… well, it’s everything you’d expect of him. Scattered novels adorning the floor, a mess of untidy thoughts, neglected papers on science, endless open textbooks left half-abandoned for other pursuits. It’s so him, clean but discombobulated.

He wants to apologize, make excuses for the lack of order, he probably should. He doesn’t do that though. He only crosses the room, stopping when he’s standing right in front of you, just gazing down. He has no idea what’s to come— for once, there are no patterns, no statistics he can reference.

So, he reaches for you, fingers tugging at the edges of your jacket. “Arms. Up,” he instructs and god, it’s a stupid order, but you follow it without any protest. He folds it over the couch, abandoned. Putting it back on alludes to leaving, and he’s hopeless enough to never want you to leave.

His hands then gravitate back to you and he starts to tug aimlessly at the material of your shirt. It’s been raining, and the fabric is soaked. “Hm,” he hums, “Off. Take it off.”

You laugh at that. Straight to the point. You don’t follow his orders, because one was certainly enough, and you’ve never been the type to obey blindly. Instead, you grip his waist, drive him back towards the nearest surface. An end table, some books go clattering, light damage, they’ll survive. His response is a gasp, a hitch of the breath.

“I was promised the good side of the bed, breakfast, pancakes. But sex? Hm, did you invite me over just to get in my pants? I’m wounded, Reid.” you mutter, pressing a series of soft kisses along the curvature of his jaw.

“No! No,” he retorts, breathless, “I was going to get you some comfortable clothes to change into. Damp clothes breed bacteria. You made this dirty,” Adding, “And not in the way I was concerned about.” under his breath.

You roll your eyes, “Oh, here we go—“ sure, you have the experience he lacks, but you’ve been on your best behavior. Dirty? That’s an insult to the exhausting self-restraint you’ve upheld recently.

“Yes— i’m the dirty one here, clearly.” you scoff, “Just casually corrupting you,” You tug him away from the end-table because you don’t want him bruised in any way, shape or form (it’s actually distressing; when you’re working, you seem hellbent on making sure no one even thinks about laying a hand on him. Unsubs be damned.)

Ego-centric, completely independent, individualistic until he came along.

You push him back against the couch, watching as he stumbles, as he falls. For a minute he just lies there, looking up at you with hazy eyes— pupils dilated and lips parted on a half-pained gasp.

And it’s a sight to see, the brilliant prodigy, the young genius, his normally-composed features now twisted into something stricken. His hands tighten around the material of the couch and he lets out a sound that’s a cross between a whine and a groan.

“Oh—“ that’s just a clear-cut moan, “You can definitely definitely keep corrupting me, in fact I endorse it. Completely.”

“3 PHDS, 2 B.A’s and you’re currently asking me to corrupt you? I don’t know, Doctor Reid, that’s certainly very forward,” you say, moving to sit on his lap, aware that you really should entertain this spot more often, even if you’re at severe risk of deflating.

Deflating. God. When did it come to this?

He laughs, “You’re the only person in this entire world that makes me act without a single coherent thought,” IQ abolished. “So yeah,” he murmurs, fingers tracing mindless patterns across the exposed strip of skin above your waistline. “Defini-definitively corrupt me.”

It’s taken so much to get to this point. So much to unpack, to understand, from Spencer’s perspective. There’s a lifetime of bullying that he has to dismantle, and sometimes he still anticipates the punchline when you kiss him— the biting laughs, not entirely dissimilar to school, when someone would belittle him, fake being his friend just for entertainment value.

So, when you stumble into the bedroom, when you remove his shirt, he knows this is improvement. He’s fighting this internal battle, unsure on how he should act: coy or defiant. Both, really. He wants to cover himself up, to pretend like you don’t disarm him, to fight and fight until you make him bleed. Anything, he’ll take anything from you.

“You are so so pretty,” you mutter when he’s sprawled out across the bed. You’ve never been someone to resort to praise; sex had always been cold and clinical, something to relieve stress, to undermine the burden of work, and the endless weight of sanguinary. But now? If he is the eye of the storm, then you’ll happily commit to the chaos of this.

“Careful, you’ll make me inherit a disorder here.” he mutters. Narcism— he’s the least likely to ever develop such symptoms. “Or cry. I could cry, it’s a potential. Maybe break-down?”

“Or,” he adds, his hands tracing up towards your shoulder blades. “All of the above. The trifecta of issues. It’s very likely.”

He rolls over on top, you’re down to just your lingerie now, pretty lace contrasting against your skin. Removing your clothes had been a whole ordeal, he’s fairly certain he almost died; you’re the epitome of beautiful, and he’s not sure how he ended up with everything when he was so resolute, silently accepting, he would always obtain nothing.

“I want to kiss you, but I don’t know, I feel like my body has lost the ability to function at the moment.” he breathes out.

“You should definitely kiss me,” you confirm, posing it as a choice, one that he has any say over— when in reality, youre already tugging him closer. Lips meeting lips. It’s not sane how the world fades into a nebulous haze the moment your mouths connect; time remains constant, logistically, nothing has changed. But it’s just so much that for a moment you doubt the concept of existence, doubt everything but him.

Genius falling for genius. Only you could laugh when he traces molecules into your skin. Spelling out words with elements: Livermorium, Uranium. LV U, it might not be an exact replica of the three worded phrase, but it certainly gets the point across.

“Spence—“ you bite into his lip, tugging the soft tissue between your teeth.

He groans, whimpers, pulls you closer, eliminating every infinitesimal distance between, slotting his hips against yours. He draws away from your mouth, lips leaving a trail of kisses down your neck as he reaches for your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours and pinning it against the bed. His free one is now wandering, slipping beneath your panties to touch.

“Do you know how much I studied about human anatomy after you first kissed me?”

“Weeks.” he answers when you respond with a muffled groan. Your hands are on his back now, tracing the journey of his spine. He’s in over his head, but there’s so much want, so much he wants to do but never thought he would be capable of. And oh, when he begins to draw circles against your clit, slow experimental halos, those soft touches of yours evolve into grasping, gripping. By the time he’s got a finger slotted inside, he’s fairly certain he’s being scratched. Nail indents and faint white lines, souvenirs.

“I know about every erogenous zone the human body possesses, every single one.” He says, because whilst he might lack in physical experience, he has enough intellect to memorize placement, biology. Plus, he’s a fast learner. His finger bends, and both of you moan.

“Spence— fuck, feels good.” you gasp, tangled hands clutching tighter, tighter again until your knuckles are white and you’re trembling.

The human body is something of a fascination to him; the way it reacts, how each nerve and ligament can respond to even the most tentative of touches. But you aren’t every human, you are you, and he has an insatiable desire to discover and catalog every single response your body gives.

He adds another finger, slowly, eyes fixed on your face, gauging the reaction. When he curls both digits, a sharp exhale is your response. “I’m convinced I’ve discovered new anatomy facts in the last few months, just because of you.”

Maybe it’s not fair that he’s so good. First times are supposed to be fumbling and awkward, a mess of hormones and inexperience. To say you haven’t been touched like this before is a severe understatement. The meaningless sex, the onslaught of bodies doesn’t measure up to him, the way he’s so focused on how you respond, on what your body enjoys— it would be endearing (and it is!), but you're currently too preoccupied to voice such a notion.

“Doing so good, holy shit—“ you mutter, blissed out beyond comprehension. You're making art on his back, only vaguely aware of the pain. Though when you realize you’ve scarred his skin, you're drawing away, moving to tangle your hand in his hair instead. But Spencer doesn’t even care, doesn’t even register the inflictions; he likes the physical marks you leave behind, a tangible remnant of all you do to him.

And sure, he’d laugh, usually, at your responses. But it’s hard to laugh, when his own ability to form any coherent sound has been completely destroyed. He’s a mess, his breathing shaky, and his brain is a constant buzz of fragmented musings consisting of you, you, you.

He draws his fingers out, earning a discernible groan, maybe a fuck you (which he does intend to do). But right now, he’s already slotting his face between your thighs, removing those soaked, ruined, panties of yours. He doesn’t have a single thing to compare it to. But he already knows this is his favorite place to be, and he’s fairly certain he’ll be spending most nights between your thighs, learning and memorizing every reaction and noise, each movement, and the ways to repeat them.

He runs his tongue along your clit, savoring just how wet you are, a mess that he can bury his face into. You’re looking down at him with something akin to shock now, and he can only laugh, blow air against your clit, then drag his tongue back over the sensitive bud, drawing it into his mouth to suck.

His movements are tentative at first, unpractised, but soon gaining confidence. He doesnt need to do this, you're aware— you could take him now. And yet, hes here, between your thighs for no reason other than want. Your reaction is visceral, because it’s always been about efficiency in the past, quick touches to get you there before the other person can derive their own pleasure from the act.

He’s not like that. God, hes not like that at all.

“Oh,” is all you can say, gripping his hair down to the root, instructing each movement until he gains incentive, finding repeat patterns that your body reacts to. Then, you can only arch and moan, noises filtered out into the air. He’s back to opening you up now, two deft fingers pressed inside, working diligently to tear you apart.

“Oh? That’s all you have to say to me? Oh?” he retorts.

“Shut up,” you huff, “Put that mouth of yours to work.”

“Mhm— I plan to. God, you’re so perfect.” he mutters, voice distorted, muffled. “That’s it—“ he fights the urge to explain exactly what’s occurring in your body every time his fingers abuse that spot. Instead, he keeps his mouth busy.

He’s certain he’s memorized most areas of your body from years of pining, and that’s what brings him an unrepentant sense of satisfaction. Because he was memorizing your body, you, long before he even got the chance to touch or taste you.

“Wanna stay here,” he says, and he’s being petulant now, because there’s something so good about being reduced to movements. To follow the pattern, to take care of your body, mindless to anything else but you. Pussy-drunk, to put it less eloquently.

“Shit,” you buck up against his mouth, watching as he buries his face entirely into you, as he replaces his fingers with his tongue, nose bumping bumping your clit, consuming his senses entirely.

“Use my face, yeah. ‘M all yours anyway.”

“Fuck, fuck fuck— Spence. Gonna cum—“

When you fall apart, inevitable, he doesn’t stop— not until you’re boneless and spent beneath him. Back arching, stars burning through closed eyes. Pretty constellations that have you blissed out beyond belief. The pleasure is white-hot, feverish in intensity.

And then he’s moving, shifting his body back over you. He’s all soft touches and languid kisses against your mouth, not bothering to break contact as he settles himself fully over you, the weight of his hips pressing into yours. He’s hard, dick pushing up against his boxers, his sexual libido had always been low until you came into his life. Now, his wants seem to fight for release constantly.

“My turn, I believe.” he grins, pressing a kiss to your jaw, “Not that you have to, of course. It’s not an obligation, uh— more so a beg?”

“Of course it’s an obligation,” he goes to protest, to say you don’t owe him anything, so you sigh. “A thankyou, maybe?”

Fumbling hands, still shaky from pleasure, undo buttons. Unclasping his belt, removing loose fabric until he's bare before you. There’s something nervous to his gaze, something unspoken, lingering in the air. “Hey, hey. I’ve got you, yeah? You’re okay,” you promise, before your eyes shamelessly look down. He’s straining, pre-cum lingering at his tip, dick pressed up against his stomach now. “Fuck, okay— yeah. Good. Great even.” first time you've ever stumbled over a sentence in your life.

There’s so much to be concerned about. The fact he’s naked, that you could destroy everything with a few serrated words, years and years of rebuilding, reconstructing. But you don’t— and he can’t help but laugh nervously. “Glad to be up to your standards. I’d uh, hate to disappoint.”

“Always the over-achiever,” you respond, shifting away from him— there’s amusement to your expression when he groans, pitifully, when he rolls onto his back, draping an arm over his face.

Predictable. Condoms in his bedside table. At least he's prepared. You open the wrapper with your teeth, discarding it somewhere amongst the tangle of limbs and sheets, too hellbent on finding him again.

Oh, in this position, you have full, unrestricted view of his body. Endless planes of skin, begging to be marked, sentenced indefinitely to your touch. By the time you straddle his hips, hes a flushed mess beneath you. “I— um, you look really really pretty right now.” he stumbles, idiot.

His dilated eyes take you in. Every contour and curve, the way your hair hangs over your face, eyes up eyes up eyes up. He fails when you run your hand across his dick, thumb brushing against the tip. By the time you’ve slipped the condom over him, hes gone. Bucking and moaning, and so so much better than his hand could ever be.

He wants to be inside of you, but it’s hard to think right now, let alone vocalize the words. I want, he thinks, I want everything, with you.

Your name is on his tongue, muttered and repeated, a reverent prayer of sorts. He needs to gain back his control here, to return to equal footing.

“Yeah—“ he breathes out, “So much of an overachiever, considering I had you making all of those noises—“ his words falter, die out, when you sink down. When you take him. Wrapped around, tight. Warm heat that sets alight every nerve in his overstimulated body. He has half the mind to apologize for his comment because you’re about to ruin him, he knows.

“I thought you wanted me to corrupt you, hm?” you retort. The pace is slow, mostly for his own sanity. Though, the feel of him, the way he slots into you, warm skin pressed against warm skin is intoxicating, and it’s a battle to keep your composure. To not just fall apart under the weight of him.

“What’s that, pretty boy? Struggling? Because you were so egotistical a few seconds ago? Where’s all that ego gone? Straight between your legs, I think.”

A whimper. It’s a whimper, a pained thing ripped straight from his throat. He’s making indiscernible noises now, messy sounds pooling from his swollen lips. The praise, the strained undertones of degradation? It’s too much. But god does he love you for it, because that’s you through and through. Sharp, and brittle to everyone but him, he wants to look, he does, albeit he has to turn his head to the side, bury half of his face in a pillow because he’s gone. At this point, he can only take it.

“I— um, mhm. Yeah,” he slurs. He’s almost incoherent at this point; he’s been reduced to nothing, just a mass of skin, bone, and flesh at your disposal, to own and use and he can’t find it in himself to feel humiliated about it, not when it’s you.

“Can’t— um, I was wrong, you’re— oh god,” the sounds of your body hitting his, back arching as your pace picks up. “Oh, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry —baby, can’t, can’t take it. That’s…”

It’s a lot for his first time, that’s for certain.

“Yes, you you can. I know you can, Spence.” you mutter, interlocking your fingers, letting them hang near your hips. “You feel so good— so so fucking good. Look at you, so brain dead for me. Taking it all so well, love.”

Love?— oh he wants to be buried with that one. He’s a mindless disaster, impenetrably devoted to you alone.

He doesn’t even know how he’s saying words at this point, it’s as if his brain-to-mouth connection has been severed by your very presence itself. It’s not possible to form a coherent thought when you’re riding him like this, taking him so deep that he’s seeing stars. There’s tears pooling in his eyes, he looks pretty when he cries. Especially when it’s derived from pleasure, when he can let go of the burdens, everything he’s endured, when it’s just sensation. Nothing more, no more thoughts.

There’s safety here, an element of home, home home bliss, that has him keening. He wants to stay buried here forever, where nothing can ever hurt him again. When it’s just you, and your pretty words, and your exploitative power to destroy him. You never do, anyway. Even when you could, you restrain.

“Can’t, ’m gonna…, Please, please, don’t stop.” he whines, “Pleasepleaseplease— oh, can’t— I can’t.”

He grips you tight, rolls you over, mostly so he can feel you closer. The sight of you riding him was excruciating, but this is worse because now there’s no gap separating you. Now, he can bury his face into the crook of your neck, burn himself in the warmth of your touch.

“Spence..” you mutter.

“I know. I know—“ hes ruined, sloppy thrusts, whimpers catching against the stifling air. “Feels s’good.”

He doesn’t know what to do, how to breathe, so he just runs his thumb over your clit, watching your prominent reaction, watching as you gasp, moan— oh, and then you’re clenching around him, tightening the pleasure, and yesyesyes.

You’re too gone, moving still, and he can only cant his hips forwards, buck and squirm until he’s sobbing under the weight of your ministrations, releasing so hard that he can barely remember his name, no cognitive function, in the haze of his orgasm.

“There’s my boy— so pretty for me.” he can vaguely hear you saying, and if you’re talking him through it, he can only hear snippets of praise now anyway.

“Mhm— mhm. Yours, yeah.” he mumbles, body sinking against the sheets, a few little whimpers escaping his lips as you milk the rest of his pleasure from him.

Tangled limbs and sweat-stained skin. “You okay?” you ask in the aftermath.

“So okay,” he agrees, shifting closer, back pressed against your torso— sue him for being little spoon.

──────────────────

The next morning, you wake to an absence of Spencer. It’s unsettling, to say the least. So, you're quick to fumble over the buttons of one of his shirts, fabric creased, matching the tousled nature of your hair, disheveled, remnants of the ruination of last night.

For a moment, you consider that he might’ve left — but there he is, in the kitchen, attempting to make breakfast.

“Hey,” you mutter, leaning against the counter to watch.

Scratches adorn his back, indent marks from your nails, crescent reminders, stain his waist, and he’s content to wear them. If anything, he can’t wait to add to the budding collection.

Pancakes. The good side of the bed. Coffee. All of his promises from last night are being thoroughly met, even if he’s burning the food, and shit, he didn’t realize the coffee would be finished so soon. For all his calculations, he’s fairly off-center today.

And then, you come padding across his kitchen, embellished in only his shirt, unbuttoned near the top to expose your collarbone, and he’s fairly certain the last remainders of his IQ disappear.

“Hi! Hi,” he says, wide-eyed, “Um, making.. breakfast. You look, wow yeah.”

Breakfast lays forgotten.

[loveanddeepdick]

obsessed!geto suguru x f!reader

cw & notes: ok this might NOT be everyone’s cup of tea if you’re a 100% independent girlboss femdom femininomenon, A LOT OF possessiveness, solved misunderstandings, dubcon, oral sex, borderline yandere, no curse au + geto works at jjk high but it’s not jjk high ykwim hbdjsh and ur close with his students

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

obsessed!geto who watches your every move, looks at every text message notification you get, every person you wave to. of course, he isn’t looking for any evidence that you’re cheating, no! he knows you’d never.

you two are cuddling on the couch together, laying on his lap with your head nestled under his chin and you legs draped over while he rested his cheek on your head. he’s in the middle of rubbing your back and watching whatever you had on your phone when he sees texts you got from a name he’s never seen before.

higuruma

hey, i hope this is the right number

i got ur stuff, let’s meet when your husband goes to work, yeah?

geto was silent for a few seconds before subtly tightening his grip on you

“who’s that, angel?”, geto almost seethed, he was trying his best not to make it sound like he was upset but it tipped him the fuck off.

‘who the fuck is that? who is she talking to?’

you only smiled, looking back at geto.

“it’s yuji’s lawyer friend, remember?”, you rested your head in the crook of his neck, somehow oblivious to the change in his demeanor.

“yuji.. ah, yuji’s lawyer friend. and you’re meeting with him why? and when i go to work—honey what’s going on?”

“geto..” you lifted you head, turning to him and slightly frowning, “it’s so he can come to meet with me and drop off stuff for yuji while he’s gone for a school trip”

“mm.. i’m gonna come with you, pretty girl..” he attacked your face with kisses as u giggle and try to dodge them.

“sugu!! you’re so protective over me! it’s not like im a baby, i’m not gonna get kidnapped” you huffed, lightly slapping his bicep. geto only hummed and enveloped his lips in yours.

the next day, poor higuruma couldn’t help but nervously chuckle as geto silently stood behind you as he dropped off yuji’s stuff.

obsessed!geto who knows all your needs. all of them.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

“sugu! i told you im not hungry right now” you whine as he brings in two bags of takeout. ten minutes later, suguru is feeding you as you scroll on your phone. smiling as he knew that at the end of the day, he knew your needs better than you did.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

“sugu i really wanna go to the beach next week, let’s go pleasseee?”

“mm-mm, doll, your period starts in three days and the day we go is when you feel pain the most. so, no, we’re not going and you’ll thank me later”

you frowned and gave him the silent treatment which only lasted for two hours . three days later, you did get your period and the day that the beach was planned, geto was at the foot of your bed, massaging your feet as he turned your heating pad up, his eyebrows furrowed as he hated the sight of you in pain

“sugu.. i love you”, you groan as he relieved your pain little by little.

“‘love you too, pumpkin”

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

“fuck, angel.. yeah.. i like you better when you’re not so fucking bratty and i can hear my dick inside you instead of that little mouth of yours always running”

he knew you were horny. he slipped his cock into your mouth as a means to shut your bratty little mouth up. you’d been teasing him for hours and he just had enough after he came home from a long day. you’d sent him dirty text after text, lingerie pics to nudes, even videos of you playing with yourself

he just couldn’t help but pin you down on the couch just as you got home! your bratty little mouth protesting about him being so whipped for your pussy but he shuts you up with your favorite treat!

he’d used your mouth, his hands shoved in your hair as he moaned from the sigh of your teary eyes.

“fuuuck, i’m close, angel. you want a treat for finally being a good girl? open up that throat of yours baby”

obsessed!geto who always does a background check of everyone you know. he has to make sure his soon-to-be wife doesn’t have any dangerous people in her life or—god forbid—, anyone with even an ounce of a crush on her!

after he’s doing cutting off the people he doesn’t like in your life (with reason of course! he knows what’s best for you <3), he immediately goes off to you, surprising you with a smack of your ass or a rough kiss on the lips, whatever he sees first.

if you’re not there though, he’ll jack off to all the photos he takes of you. sometimes he takes them in secret, sometimes he takes them in brough daylight. he doesn’t have to hide it anymore now that you’re dating but he never stopped. he loves you in all forms and he loves the effect you have on his cock. he’ll have his boney hand wrapped around it, sliding up and down as he whimpers your name.

“you’re so.. so fucking sexy, mm..mmphf!”

just geto who’s obsssed with you >.<

[flwrstqr]

CALL ME YOURS !! (LHS - 이희승)

SYNOPSIS: ever since you broke up with your ex, choi jiho, who cheated on you with another girl, you have always wanted to get revenge. when you meet jiho again at school, to prove you were over him and had met a better man, you told him you were meeting someone. you lied and told him you were meeting a random guy who you pointed at on your school's bulletin board for being the top student in the whole school. coincidentally, that guy was lee heeseung, known for his quiet and smart personality. then jiho demands to meet him in real life, hand-in-hand with you, which now you have a huge problem. first, you have to find heeseung, and next, you have to date him.

pairing: topstudent!heeseung x popularstudentfem!reader

genre: fake dating, s2l, romance, high school au, sunshine x cold

warning(s): reader + heeseung being in denial, your ex cheated, kissing, inspired by a k-drama (i forgot which one), two of them being awfully awkward at first, swearing, grammar errors, party, lots of love confusions, does say that winter is dating beomgyu, punching, fighting

word count: 7k

AN: guys im back with a long au, i never really write long aus, so this is slightly new to me. i did proofread it but not super thoroughly so if i made any mistakes, my bad for that .

taglist: @yenqa @mylstserenade @jlheon @naespas @jooniesbears-blog @erehkinnie30 @wonifullove @miumiuisme @shawnyle @dimplewonie @beomluvrr @jiaant11 @teddywonss

ALL YOU WANTED WAS REVENGE. Sweet revenge against your idiotic ex, Choi Jiho.You remember the moment you walked into the girls locker room to go deliver something to your PE coach, only to find the room “empty”. It hit you like a ton of bricks when you stumbled upon Jiho, locking lips with your “supposed” best friend, Kim Haeun, in the girl’s locker room Lip on lip, eyes closed, moving in sync. Heart shattered, tears streaming, you bolted, tripping over a basket of equipment and scraping your knees quickly catching attention of Jiho. His voice trailed after you, calling your name as you fled into the distance.

Losing both your best friend and your boyfriend cut deep. Being single was one thing, but being unable to find anyone who measured up to Jiho was another.

"YN, your standards for men are too high!" Karina remarked from the bleachers during PE.

You shrugged. "They've always been high." For the past 4 months, no one was your type compared to Jiho, the perfect boyfriend in your eyes: tall, handsome, a football player, rich, and occasionally nice.

"It's because of that disgusting asshole," Ningning scoffed.

"He isn't disgusting!" you retorted.

"YN, you need to get over him. This is just becoming toxic, plus you dumped him in front of the whole school ," Giselle chimed in. She was right. You vividly recalled the moment, twenty minutes before the bell, eyes swollen from crying all night but disguised behind makeup, replaying yesterday's scene you witnessed in your mind.

"YN!" Jiho's voice snapped you back to reality, his figure rushing towards you.

"Can we talk?" he asked, breathless.

"Talk about how you fucking cheated on me? Fine, I'll hear you out," you yelled, drawing everyone's attention.

"Can you keep it down, YN?" Jiho snapped.

"Sure I’ll quiet it down when I want to. Go to your girlfriend, Haeun. Why does she have to be my best friend, out of all people?" you glared.

"YN, let's talk inside," Jiho groaned, irritated.

"No, we're done. I never wanted you anyway, you asshole. Just fuck off," you spat, the words stinging even as they left your mouth The next thing you knew the scene spreaded like wildfire at school.

"Are you okay?" Minjeong asked as you sobbed at the lunch table.

"Listen, YN, Jiho wasn't worth it. You saw what you saw," Karina tried to console.

"I don't know... it's just over now," you murmured, head in your hands.

"Maybe it's a sign to find someone better," Ningning suggested.

"I don't know..." you whispered, feeling lost, unable to move on.

“I’m for sure there’s someone way better than him.” Giselle added (biggest lie you ever heard).

MONTHS PASSED AND YOU FOUND YOURSELF IN THE LIBRARY, lending a hand to the librarian in organizing books before school started. As you went about your duties, dropping off books and preparing to fetch more, the one and only, Jiho, stood by the school bulletin board waiting for you. It had been months since the breakup, and yet, the wound was still fresh, a constant reminder of the pain (really yn..)

"I wanted to say a word," Jiho awkwardly mumbled, eyeing you for a reaction, his hands in his pockets.

You reluctantly agreed, "Fine, make it quick. I'm busy."

"I broke up with Haeun," he stated, the words hanging in the air.

"What?" Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

"I ended things with Kim Haeun," he said more firmly. His words sank in, but confusion lingered. But why was he telling you this now? Then it hit you—he wanted you back. Yet, on a day when you missed him, you suddenly felt nothing. He had left you for another girl (well, technically, you dumped him), betrayed you, and now he came back because you were his second choice?

"Why are you telling me this?" You managed to maintain calm.

"I still like you, YN LN," he confessed, causing your eyes to widen. You bit your lip, before you could accept his confession like your 5 minute ago self would. Your heart didn’t thump like it did when you were around him. Your hands weren’t sweaty like they were when he looked at you before. Your mind wasn’t racing like it was when Jiho confessed to you for the first time, months ago. It was nothing like any of that–you just felt empty and cold.

"I'm seeing someone," you blurted out, realizing the lie you had just said. Crossing your fingers, you hoped he wouldn't ask about the identity of your "so-said boyfriend"

"Who?" he inquired, raising his eyebrow. Desperately searching for an excuse, your eyes landed on the bulletin board, displaying a list of top students and their ID photos.

Rushing over, you pointed at the first photo and name you saw, "That guy," you said, reading his name, "...Lee Heeseung! I'm dating him."

"Oh, really?" Jiho cast a skeptical glance between you and the photo, a smirk playing on his lips. "Then," he leaned in closer, "how about you introduce me to him, hand-in-hand, next week? I want to see if he's worthy of you." Panic rushed in you, and your throat went dry. You forced a smile and nodded in reluctant agreement.

"Sure," you replied.

"Great, see you next week," Jiho said, turning and walking away. You were officially doomed. Now, you have to find this Lee Heeseung and give him a deal.

YOU WANDERED DURING LUNCH, TRYING TO FIND HEESEUNG. You only heard about him because he got a perfect score on the hardest SAT exams, but you didn't really pay attention.

"Heeseung? Sorry, I don’t know who he is," a girl replied when you asked her about Heeseung.

"It's okay," you smiled politely and left, feeling frustrated.

"I'll never find him," you groaned to Karina, who was with you while you asked everyone about Heeseung.

"Why did you lie to Jiho then? I thought you weren’t over him. Last night, you were giggling at how cute Jiho is and how much you want him back," Karina asked, taking a bite of her apple.

"I don’t know. He was just using me. I knew it because he and Haeun broke up," you explained, letting out a soft sigh. "He saw me as a second option, and I got into this mess because I lied to him about having a boyfriend who's probably some ugly nerd."

"I told you he was using you the entire time! But you didn’t trust me!" Karina scolded you.

"Sorry, I was just blind back then," you mumbled.

Before your last attempt, you walked up to a boy and asked the same question you’d been asking everyone.

"Do you know Lee Heeseung by any chance?" you asked. The boy's eyes widened, and a big grin spread across his face.

"Yes, I do! For what reason?" the boy quickly replied. For the first time, someone knew who he was.

"Do you know where he is then?" you inquired, hoping he could help.

"I do. I’m close friends with him. Come, I’ll show you where he is," the boy replied as you followed him, waving to Karina goodbye.

As the two of you awkwardly made up the long staircase, you arrived at the rooftop of the school. When the boy opened the door, a lonely figure sat by the table, reading a book.

"Heeseung!" the boy called out, causing the figure, supposedly Heeseung, to turn around.

"What, Jungwon?" Heeseung raised his eyebrow, quickly glancing at you and then back at Jungwon.

"YN was looking for you," Jungwon quickly said, nudging you to speak. Heeseung obviously knew who you were, known for dating Jiho and your soft-delicate visuals.

You walked towards him awkwardly, “Uhm…can we talk privately?” Slightly glancing at Jungwon, signaling him to leave quietly. As Jungwon left quietly, you cleared your throat.

“So…” you started off a bit nervous, “I need some help?”

"What help?" Heeseung answered a bit coldly, “If it’s anything studying related, I’m not interested-”

"I need help dating," you blurted, realizing what you had just said.

"What?" Heeseung gave you a puzzled look, "Dating what?"

"I lied to Jiho. Okay, I don’t have interest in you or even Jiho. I lied to him saying that I’m meeting you," you spilled the news. Heeseung had an empty look on his face as you tried to read his expression.

“Why me?” Heeseung arched his eyebrow.

“You were the first name I saw,” you explained, “So can you fake date me? I need it, please,” you pleaded, hoping he would accept your request.

"No, I’m not interested," he turned around, quickly getting his book to start reading again. Your jaw dropped, no one had ever rejected you like that.

"What?" you spat, feeling terrible that you got rejected for the first time.

"I’m not interested in you or in dating. So, I strongly believe that I shouldn’t do it," he said, quickly focusing his attention on his book.

“I’ll do anything!” you begged, feeling desperate.

"Anything?" Heeseung quickly averted his attention to you, dropping his book slightly to make eye contact with you.

"Yes, anything. I’ll do anything," you replied, hoping he would accept it.

"Then introduce me to her," Heeseung answered. You looked confused.

"Who's her?" you raised your eyebrow.

Heeseung’s cheek slightly blushed, it was the first time you saw him so embarrassed. “Karina,” he mumbled under his breath. Suddenly it clicked—he was interested in Karina, your best friend.

You gave an eager look, “Deal! I’ll introduce you to her after all of the fake dating.” You pulled out your hand.

"Deal," Heeseung replied, shaking your hand.

A  FEW DAYS LATER, YOU FIND YOURSELF in the convenience store, an unexpected place for someone like you—a popular girl to be at. Your outfit was simpler than usual, baggy gray sweats and a white tank top, with your hair thrown up in a messy high ponytail and an oversized jacket completing the look.

You scan the snack aisle, contemplating your choices, when the doorbell chimes, signaling a customer had entered. Your heart thumps as you recognize the last person you expected to encounter—Heeseung. He's dressed in simple gray sweatpants and a black hoodie, his messy hair somehow adding to his charm.

Your eyes lock momentarily before you both awkwardly shuffle towards each other. "What brings you here?" you ask, surprised to find him in a convenience store at 2 am.

"Why are you up so late?" he counters, swiftly turning the interrogation on you.

"I couldn't sleep. What's your excuse?" you reply.

"Studying," he responds matter-of-factly, grabbing an energy drink before swiftly checking out and leaving. You hurry after him, catching up as he strides down the street.

"Studying late? That's a first," you mutter to yourself, gazing up at the night sky.

"I don’t want to flunk my classes, unlike you," he retorts, avoiding your gaze.

"I'm not that hopeless," you roll your eyes.

"Yeah, you are," he quips, taking a sip of his drink.

"Hey!" you playfully threaten, pulling back your arm as if to hit him. But then something unexpected happens—you catch sight of Heeseung's smile, genuine and endearing. You quickly shake off any wayward thoughts; after all, you're just his so-called “girlfriend”.

"Where do you live?" you inquire, trying to change the subject.

"Stalker much?" Heeseung teases.

"Shut up," you retort, rolling your eyes.

"I live in the house near the college," he answers, disposing of his empty can.

"Do you walk to school?" you ask, trying to prolong the conversation.

"Yeah," he replies.

"Then... do you want to walk together tomorrow?" you suggest, stopping in the quiet and empty streets.

"Walk together?" he repeats, surprised.

You nod and quickly add, "Yeah, you know, for you know..."

Heeseung considers for a moment before agreeing, "Sure."

"Great! I'll come by your place at 7 am since school starts at 7:30!" you smile, remembering to ask for his number. He inserts it into your phone, adding, "Don't blow up my phone."

"I'm not that obsessed with you," you retort.

"I think you are," he jokes.

"In your dreams," you shoot back.

YOU FOUND YOURSELF STANDING OUTSIDE Heeseung's door, feeling an awkward knot tighten in your stomach as you waited, fingers fidgeting nervously. After what seemed like hours, the door swung open to reveal a woman, likely Heeseung's mother.

"Hi, who are you?" she inquired, her eyes curious but welcoming.

"I'm YN LN," you replied, managing a warm smile despite your nerves. "A friend of Heeseung's."

"Heeseung's friend?" Her expression softened into a delighted grin. "I didn't realize Heeseung had such a pretty friend. I'm Heeseung's mother. Just call me Mrs. Lee."

"Mom..." Heeseung's voice interrupted, his presence suddenly beside you as he quickly shuffled to put on his shoes.

"Heeseung, she seems like a sweet and pretty girl," Mrs. Lee remarked before Heeseung darted, closing the door behind him before his mother could say anything else.

"Your mother seems really nice," you commented, attempting to ease the tension.

"Mhm," Heeseung mumbled, his attention already diverted to his book that he quickly pulled out from his backpack. 

With a pointed look, you reached out your hand, silently urging him to remember.

Heeseung sighed, rolling his eyes in mild exasperation, but he relented, tucking the book away and clasping your hand in his. The touch sent a jolt through you, a feeling you couldn't quite grasp.

"So..." you began, eager to break the silence. "Where's your class?"

"Class 3-B," he replied shortly, his gaze fixed ahead as if unwilling to meet your eyes.

"Mine's right next door." you exclaimed, hoping to inject some enthusiasm into the conversation. "Perfect! Do you know what this means?"

"What?" Heeseung's response was clipped, his tone guarded.

"That I can come over to your class during lunch!" you declared with a wide grin, trying to lighten the mood.

"I eat on the rooftop, alone." he added, emphasizing the word alone.

"Ah, I forget you’re a loner," you teased gently.

"At least I'm productive with my free time," he retorted.

"Well, today we're together!" you suggested brightly and then with a smirk you whispered, "And I can introduce you to... Karina." The mention of your best friend's name made Heeseung blush slightly.

"Shut up," he groaned, moving to cover your mouth with his free hand just in case you would say anything else.

"Like I want to-" feeling a sudden hard squeeze in your hand "Ow..."

"Now shut up before I squeeze harder," Heeseung warned, though there was a hint of genuine threat in his tone.

"You're no fun," you muttered. Eventually, you arrived at the school, fingers still intertwined as you drew curious whispers from the hallway.

"YN and Heeseung, dating? No way..." you heard a girl whisper by the lockers, causing a flush of embarrassment to color your cheeks. When you reached Heeseung's classroom, you reluctantly released his hand, noticing the tension in his posture as he leaned against the doorframe.

"See you later?" you asked, "I'll be on the rooftop during break."

"Alright..." Heeseung's response was hesitant, but then came an unexpected word that caught you off guard. "...baby." The pet name hung in the air.

"R-right... anyway, bye..." you stammered, feeling a rush of different emotions. You'd been in relationships before, but you were never so flustered for such small things like that. Could it be... you weren't falling for him, right?

HEESEUNG SETTLED AT THE EMPTY TABLE on the rooftop, his gaze drifting across the school grounds. The rooftop held a special meaning for him, offering a quiet place to read, barely visited by others.

“Heeseung!” Your voice sliced through the silence, drawing his attention. He glanced up to see you approaching, two lunches in hand.

With a bright grin, you placed the meals in front of him. “I brought lunch!”

"Thanks," Heeseung replied , his tone cool as he examined the homemade kimbap. As you both sat down, awkwardness settled between you, by the avoidance of eye contact.

Summoning his courage, Heeseung brought a question that had lingered in his mind for months. "Why did you like Choi Jiho?"

Your eyes widened at the unexpected, catching you off guard. You paused, hesitating with how to respond.Memories of Jiho flooded your mind. You had forgotten about him for the past 4 days due to Heeseung being on your mind 24/7.

You cleared your throat, summoning a bitter lie to your lips. "I... uh, he was nice, I guess."

"Did Jiho even like you back?" Heeseung's question cut through the air. That’s when you realized something. You remembered the way Jiho would never defend you in any moment or barely spend time with you. And the time when he did? He would always be on his phone. You realized how stupid you were as you thought the moments where he just wanted attention from the public by kissing you or flirting with you meant that he loved you. 

"I... I don't know," you admitted. Deep down, you knew the painful reality—that Jiho had used you.

"Oh, okay..." Heeseung responded, sensing the weight of your words. "So, let's change the top—"

"I know he didn't like me," you interjected, your gaze drifting to the sky before meeting Heeseung's gaze. "I know he was the worst boyfriend I could ask for."

Confusion flickered across Heeseung's features at your sudden confession.

"I was blind. I regret it," you murmured, your gaze falling to your lap. "But it's in the past."

Heeseung regarded you with his usual stern and cold look. "Then why did you tell Jiho you were meeting someone else?"

"Because... I wanted to prove I was happier now," you muttered, grappling with your tumultuous emotions.

"Are you?" Heeseung's gaze bore into yours.

"I... I think I am," you replied

"You 'think'?" Heeseung pressed, his tone firm.

"I'm happier than before," you insisted, though the vagueness of your answer hung in the air.

"That's not specific," Heeseung challenged.

"I can't be specific," you confessed, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Because I don't know, at all."

"Are you sure?" Heeseung persisted.

"Heeseung, it's my feelings, yes I'm sure," you asserted.

"I'm just physically and mentally curious, so it allured me to—" Heeseung began, but you cut him off.

"Okay, I think that's enough. The bell's going to ring soon. Text me later!" With that, you rose abruptly, snatching your lunch bag and offering a quick wave before descending the stairs back to class.

HEESEUNG LAY ON  HIS BED,  staring up at the ceiling. He knew he should be studying, but your words about Jiho lingered in his mind. "I'm happier than before." Why was he even pondering such things? Lost in thought, he was jolted back to reality by a faint buzz from his phone. Retrieving it, he found a message from you.

YN LN: heeseung!! all my friends rejected me to go to the mall TT, so wanna go together?? ><

Heeseung paused, a moment of surprise flashing across his features. You were asking him to go to the mall with you? It felt almost like you were asking him out. He composed himself and replied:

Heeseung: Sure. Send location and time, I’ll be there.

Putting down his phone, he realized the weight of his agreement. He had just agreed to go on a date with you. And now, he needed to get ready. Hastily, he rummaged through his closet, seeking out a suitable outfit. Opting for his lone stylish varsity jacket paired with jeans, he ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tidy it up.

Rushing to the mall, he found you leaning against a store wall, your attention fixed on your phone. As he approached, a cupid seemed to strike him with an arrow as his cheeks flushed. The simplicity of your outfit and the gentle cascade of your hair rendered you utterly captivating.

You looked up, catching sight of Heeseung's slightly stunned expression, and greeted him with a warm smile, gesturing for him to join you.

"Hi," Heeseung muttered, still awestruck by your beauty.

"Hi!" you returned the greeting with equal warmth. "I just need to buy some makeup for my friends, or maybe myself, and possibly shop around! Anything you need?"

"Not necessarily," Heeseung replied, scanning the mall.

"Okay then, follow me," you said, seizing his arm and leading him to the nearest makeup store. Arriving at the lip product section, you perused the selection of lipsticks, lip glosses, and lip tints. Grabbing a random lip tint, you turned to Heeseung.

"Can I try it on you? I need to see if it looks good on a person," you suggested.

"What? When did I sign up for this?" Heeseung sighed.

"Please," you pleaded, giving him your best pout. "I can erase it right after."

"Fine."

With careful precision, you applied the tint to his lips. The warmth of his breath brushed against your cheeks and neck, sending a flurry of sensations through you. Your heart raced as you admired his perfectly shaped lips, now tinted with color. After smoothing out any unevenness, you stepped back to admire the look.

"Hmm... I think this works," you concluded, grabbing the new tint to go check out and pay for it.

YOU SAVORED THE SWEET TASTE OF vanilla ice cream as you took a bite, sitting side by side with Heeseung on the bench outside the convenient store where you first met. He listened attentively as you shared stories about your friends and family.

"And then Giselle told me—" Your sentence was cut short as Heeseung's fingers delicately wiped a smudge of ice cream from the corner of your lips.

"Mhm?" He hummed softly, encouraging you to continue. Your heart fluttered at his touch, beating rapidly in your chest.

"...y-yeah," you stammered, trying to regain your composure, your gaze drifting to the hues of the sunset painting the sky in shades of blue and orange.

"Are you done with your story?" Heeseung inquired, to which you nodded hastily. You weren't finished, but another word might turn you into a flustered mess.

After a brief silence, you suggested, "How about we go for a walk by the Han River?" Heeseung agreed with a nod, and soon you found yourselves strolling side by side along the riverbank, the gentle sound of water trickling in the background adding to the peaceful atmosphere.

Unexpectedly, Heeseung asked, "Are you going to the dance?" It was a question he wouldn't normally ask.

"The dance?" you raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by his inquiry.

"Yeah, the school dance?" Heeseung clarified, his expression tinged with skepticism.

"Oh, well, yeah," you replied, feeling a pang of disappointment as you remembered his feelings for Karina. He didn't like you, so why did you allow yourself to hope for something more?

"Is Karina going?" Heeseung continued, and you struggled to find your voice, your throat suddenly dry.

"O-oh, uhm, I think she's going..." you managed to say, the reality of your situation crashing down on you like a wave. Foolish fantasies had consumed you for the past five days, but now you bit your lip to stave off the embarrassment and tears threatening to surface.

"I think I'm tired. I'm gonna go home now. Bye, Heeseung," you forced a small smile before turning away, walking in the opposite direction. Heeseung watched you go, a confused expression clouding his features as you moved farther and farther away.

LEANING AGAINST THE WALL, you found yourself lost in thoughts of Heeseung, the person who was on your mind day in and day out. Why did it bother you so much if he had feelings for your best friend, Karina? Why did his presence hold such sway over you?

"YN?" Winter's voice broke through your trail of thoughts,snapping you back to reality.

"Oh, sorry, I was zoning out," you replied, trying to shake off the distraction.

"You've been distant all day. Is everything okay?" Ningning's concern was evident in her voice.

"Just tired, didn't get much sleep last night," you reassured them with a forced smile, hoping they wouldn't press further.

"Are you sure?" Giselle's skepticism lingered, her gaze searching yours.

"It's nothing, just life being complicated," you offered, trying to reassure their worries.

"If you need to talk, we're here for you," Karina chimed in, her comforting touch on your hands a familiar gesture she usually did. How you longed to confess and tell them about Heeseung and the jumble of emotions you felt and fought with, but the fear of ruining your relationships with both him and Karina kept you quiet.

At that moment, it came to you: you were in love with Heeseung. It had to be a mistake right? You could never like someone like Heeseung.  The way your heart thumped when Heeseung did small actions like hold your hand or even wipe off anything from your mouth.

 Yet, you couldn't shake the fear, the fear of history repeating itself with someone like Jiho, selfish and foolish. What was the point of falling for someone who didn't accept your feelings and liked someone else

HEESEUNG HAD REHEARSED EVERY WORD, every breath, for the moment he would finally summon the courage to ask you out for dinner. With trembling fingers, he reached for his phone, his thumb hovering over the call button. The weight of his nerves pressed down on him as he prepared to take the risk.

As the phone rang, his heart raced, the sound of your voice on the other end sending a jumble of emotions through him "Hello?" you answered, your voice like music and beauty to his ears.

"Hi..." Heeseung replied, his voice betraying his unease.

"Why did you call me?" you asked, curiosity tinged but yet your voice sounded heavy and drained. Heeseung couldn't help but notice the change in your tone for the past days, wondering if he had somehow caused it. Had he done something wrong? 

"I was just wondering if... uhm... you wanted to go get dinner tonight together?" Heeseung's voice faltered slightly, the weight of his question hanging in the air.

"Dinner tonight?" Your voice held a hint of confusion, but there was also a spark of interest. "When and where?" you inquired.

"At the Japanese place down the block, at 6?" Heeseung suggested, hoping you would agree.

"Sure, I'll see you at 6 then," you replied, your voice brightening slightly.

"Right, anyways, bye!" Heeseung quickly ended the call, a rush of happiness coursing through him. He had done it. He asked you out for dinner.

With a sense of pride, Heeseung flopped onto his bed, his phone resting on his chest as. a wide grin spread across his face. He replayed the conversation in his mind, excited for the evening of day. 

Meanwhile, on the other end of the line, you couldn't contain your excitement. Heeseung. Lee Heeseung. had. Asked. you. out. to. dinner. You, YN LN.  You couldn't help but squeal with delight into your pillow.

Eager to make a good impression, you jumped out of bed and rushed to your closet, rummaging through your clothes in search of the perfect outfit for the occasion. 

HEESEUNG SAT NERVOUSLY, tapping the table as he waited for you to arrive. Within minutes, you rushed in and quickly spotted him.

"Hi!" you greeted with a smile, settling down at the table.

"Hi," he smiled back (inside you felt a flutter at how cute his smile was). You both looked at the menu and ordered as the waiter approached. After eating, you quietly walked outside, enjoying the cool evening air.

The dark, cloudless sky revealed a glimmering array of stars. You admired the view, unaware that Heeseung was watching you, captivated by your beauty.

"The stars are so pretty," you remarked in awe.

"Mhm," he replied, still focused on you. Suddenly, you felt his fingers gently tuck a stray hair behind your ear. Your face flushed as butterflies fluttered in your stomach.

"I have a question, YN..." Heeseung began, and you turned to him, curious.

"Do you... want to go to the dance?" he asked. Your heart raced, your stomach churned, and your head spun. He had just asked you to the dance.

"T-the dance?" you stuttered.

"Yeah... I mean, just as... you know, for visual purposes," he tried to clarify.

"Right..." you nodded, agreeing. "I'll go with you." Heeseung's face lit up with a big grin as you accepted his invitation.

"That's great! I'll, um... see you at the dance then," Heeseung said with a small smile and a wave as you both went your separate ways, heading home with a light heart.

As you walked home, your mind buzzed with excitement. The thought of going to the dance with Heeseung made your heart skip a beat. You couldn't help but replay the moment he asked you, feeling a rush of happiness each time. It was like a dream come true, and you couldn't wait for the night of the dance to arrive.

WEEKS FLEW BY, each one filled with anticipation, excitement, and a series of dates. Finally, the much-anticipated day of the dance had arrived. It had been six weeks since you eagerly marked this date on your calendar. Reflecting on the past four months since you met Heeseung, you knew deep down that you were head over heels in love with him. The moment he asked you to the dance, those feelings intensified.

"Do you think this dress is pretty enough?" you asked, twirling in your knee-length black dress adorned with delicate lace details, a sweetheart neckline, and spaghetti straps.  The dress hugged your figure perfectly.

"It's gorgeous," Ningning complimented, deftly assisting with your hair.

"It's perfect, just like you," Winter reassured, adjusting your dress with care.

"Easy for you to say, with Beomgyu as your date," you teased, prompting laughter from your friends.

"And you have Heeseung," Winter smiled, smoothing out the fabric of your dress.

"You two are so cute together," Giselle teased, earning a blush from you.

"I love you guys," you said, feeling grateful for their support as you shared a group hug.

"Even if I'm dating a man, you'll always be my number one," Winter jokes, lightening the mood as you head to Karina's car.

Upon arriving at the dance, the lively atmosphere was perfect. Laughter, music, and chatter filled the room as people talked, danced, and enjoyed themselves. Spotting Heeseung entering the room, you felt a rush of excitement.

He looked perfect in his suit, his hair perfectly styled. Rushing over to him, you greeted him with a beaming smile.

"Heeseung!" you exclaimed. Heeseung looked up, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. I

"You look amazing, YN," Heeseung complimented, his smile genuine.

"Thanks, but you're the one who looks stunning," you replied, feeling your heart flutter as you took in his appearance. "Come on, let's grab some snacks and go have fun!"

The next two hours were filled with laughter, dancing, and cherished moments spent with Heeseung and your friends. However, it was until you excused yourself to the bathroom, to then meet Jiho.

"YN," Jiho's voice cut through the noise, sending a chill down your spine.

"What do you want, Jiho?" you asked, your tone laced with irritation.

"Are you here with your 'so-called' boyfriend, Heeseung?" Jiho taunted, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Yes, and what's it to you?" you retorted, your patience wearing thin.

“Yeah there is.” his smirk widened, “Don’t act stupid, I knew everything.” 

“God I hate you Jiho.”  you spat, feeling your anger rise.

"Come on, YN. Admit you still love me, and everything will go back to normal," Jiho sneered.

“I don’t even like you anymore, Jiho.”  you said firmly, trying to keep your composure.

"Oh, really? Maybe this will change your mind," Jiho said, leaning in closer. You felt his fingers slip into your waist, his grip firm and tight. You felt his face leaning closer to yours. You quickly stepped back and pushed him aside. 

“Are you fucking crazy?” you yelled. 

“YN, why are you so pissed? Not like you like anyone.”  Jiho's eyes bore into yours, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I don’t want to fucking kiss you,” you glared, “Now fuck off please.” 

“Why is it because of Heeseung? Your fake boyfriend? God, he probably doesn’t even like you YN. He only likes you because you're popular.” he laughed. Your heart sank at his cruel words. The words stung as you heard each word. Heeseung was just a stupid fake boyfriend you had. The two of you had never had a real relationship. A real love. Was Heeseung just playing with your feelings? Did Heeseung even love you like how much you loved him? 

"I hate you, Jiho," you whispered before leaving the party alone, your heart felt heavy. 

YOU SPENT HOURS lying in bed, staring out the rain-splattered window, your cheeks damp from the relentless stream of tears. Days had passed since the dance, and you hadn't mustered the strength to leave the confines of your home. 

"YN, you've been here for hours," Karina's voice broke through the silence, her concern evident as she entered your room. 

"Why didn't you text me?" 

"Phone died," you muttered, burying your face deeper into the sheets.

"Tell me what's wrong," Karina urged gently, taking a seat beside you. 

"I don't know," you confessed, your voice barely audible. 

"Come on," Karina coaxed, her comforting presence offering a glimmer of solace. 

"Okay, fine," you relented, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Jiho said some awful things to me at the dance. Now I'm a wreck, and I can't face Heeseung. I'm in love with him, and it's tearing me apart." 

Karina's eyes widened at the torrent of emotions pouring out. "And you kept this from me all this time?" 

"Karina, I didn't know what to do," you admitted, your voice choking with emotion. "I thought Heeseung felt the same way, but then Jiho made me doubt everything."

"How does Jiho know anything? He's not Heeseung," Karina retorted, frustration evident in her tone. "He's just trying to mess with your head." 

"But what if he's right? What if Heeseung was just pretending all along?" you sighed, a heavy weight settling in your chest. 

"YN," Karina's voice softened, her touch gentle as she sought to comfort you. "How do you know Heeseung doesn't like you? Have you talked to him?" 

"I haven't," you admitted, uncertainty clouding your thoughts.

"Then how can you be so sure?" Karina questioned, her eyes searching yours. "Heeseung cares about you, YN. He was worried sick after the dance. He searched everywhere for you and even left the party early out of concern."

"Are you serious?" you asked, a glimmer of hope flickering in your eyes. 

"Dead serious," Karina affirmed, her sincerity unwavering. "Talk to him, YN. You'll see." 

"But what if I'm wrong?" you hesitated, your fear holding you back. "Just trust me on this," Karina reassured, squeezing your hand gently. "Talk to Heeseung. You'll thank me later." Karina offered you a reassuring smile before enveloping you in an embrace.

HEESEUNG WAS SERIOUSLY DEAD WORRIED about you. He thought you were possibly hit by some car or even worse kidnapped. His thoughts wandered as he tried to think of all the possibilities you were. You stopped even coming to school for weeks.

The memory of the dance replayed in his mind like a broken record, haunting him with unanswered questions. Your sudden disappearance after excusing yourself to the bathroom left him questionable and restless. Desperately, he asked your friends as your friends only left him shrugs and quietness making him uneasy of the situation.

When you finally returned after a week-long absence, Heeseung couldn't help but notice the change in you. You awfully looked tired and you had eyebags. And the most important change, you were avoiding Heeseung. Was it something he had done to mess things up?

Heeseung sat at his usual spot on the rooftop, gazing out at the view, trying to get his thoughts out.

"Look who it is, Lee Heeseung," a voice pierced through the silence, pulling Heeseung from his reverie. Turning, he found Jiho leaning casually against the stairway exit, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Heeseung's girlfriend, huh?" Jiho taunted, his words hitting Heeseung like a sudden blow.

"What did you do to YN?" Heeseung's voice was edged with a mixture of anger and concern, his gaze sharp.

"Nothing much, just a little truth-telling," Jiho chuckled, his demeanor full of arrogance. 

"What truth?" Heeseung's tone was laced with urgency, his fists clenched in frustration.

“Just a few things that need to be said. Like how you guys are just dating, nothing more than that.”

Heeseung's jaw tightened as the weight of Jiho's words settled in, his mind reeling with disbelief and anger.

"Do you even know why YN hates you?" Heeseung spat, his voice seething with contempt.

"Why don't you tell me?" Jiho's smirk widened.

"Cause you’re truly an awful person” Heeseung retorted, his patience wearing thin.

“Oh really?” Jiho teased, “I didn’t know.”

Jiho's mocking laughter only fueled Heeseung's rage, his frustration exploding into action as he delivered a swift punch to Jiho's jaw.

"You're really undeserving of her," Heeseung's words echoed in the empty space.

“You could punch me as many times, I don’t care.” Jiho smiled. 

“I would but actually I don’t want to see your ugly face, so fuck off.” Heeseung stormed out of the rooftop leaving Jiho alone on the ground.

IT WAS 1 AM WHEN YOU FOUND YOURSELF at the convenience store, clad in your most comfortable clothes, not even caring if people saw you. The rush of cold air from the conditioner greeted you as you stepped inside, scanning the assortment of snacks. The scent of sweet delights filled your senses, tempting you to buy more. You reached for a snack when the chime of the door signaled someone's arrival.

Looking up, you were met with the sight of Heeseung standing across the store, his gaze fixed on you. It felt like deja vu, reminiscent of the first time you laid eyes on him. Your throat went dry, memories of Jiho's words echoing in your mind: "He probably doesn’t even like you." Anxious, you bit your lip as Heeseung approached.

"Can we talk outside?" Heeseung's voice broke through the tension. With a quiet nod, you followed him out of the store.

"YN, what's going on?" Heeseung's concern was evident as he confronted you, hoping you would answer honestly.

"Heeseung, it's nothing," you lied

"It's not nothing," Heeseung persisted, his tone firm.

"Okay, fine, I'll tell you. I fell in love with you, but then Jiho made me doubt everything. I thought you probably didn’t even like me, maybe you liked Karina instead. What was the point of being with you if I'm only going to hurt myself?" The words spilled out in a rush, leaving you empty.. Heeseung froze at your confession, disbelief in his expression.

"You like me?" Heeseung's eyebrow arched in surprise.

"I know you don't like me—" Before you could finish, Heeseung silenced you with a soft kiss. His lips were soft and perfect.You felt his fingers sliding into your waist, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. Your lips were moving in sync, in the same passion, kissing each other back. You felt his fingers intertwined with yours, drawing soft circles on the back of your hand.

Pulling away, breathless, you attempted to speak, but Heeseung beat you to it. "I like you a lot, YN. I was in denial of my feelings for months, but I realized I was actually in love with you." You widen your eyes at his confession

"Heeseung, you're not lying, right?" suspicion tinged your words.

"Do you think I would ever lie to you?" Heeseung chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear, a gesture that he would always done 

"No, but it all seems non-real," you confessed.

Heeseung's laughter, the sound you cherished the most, filled the air. "Then, will you be my real girlfriend, YN LN?"

"Of course, any day I'll choose you," you smiled, leaning in for another kiss. 

MONTHS HAD PASSED and you found yourself in a state of bliss you never imagined possible. Seated on the rooftop with Heeseung, your fingers intertwined, you gazed out into the view before you, the cool breeze enveloping you in a sense of serenity.

"Look how far we've come," you remarked, a smile gracing your lips as you watched Heeseung absentmindedly draw small patterns on your palm.

"Yeah," Heeseung nodded, his touch gentle and comforting.

"I love you, Heeseung," you whispered softly, your words carrying the weight of your affection.

"I love you more," Heeseung replied in a tender whisper, his warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck as he leaned in to press a series of delicate kisses along its curve.

"Heeseung, that tickles!" you laughed, squirming slightly at the sensation.

"This is your punishment for getting a 60% on the exam," Heeseung teased, his tone playful yet teasing.

"Hey, I'm not some nerd like you!" you retorted, playfully poking his side.

"Nerd?" Heeseung chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"A cute nerd," you amended with a grin, your heart swelling with affection.

"And you're my cute princess," Heeseung declared, pressing a sweet and tender kiss to your lips, his love for you shining brightly in his eyes. You truly were in love with Heeseung, and you weren’t going to deny it.

[danielnelsen]

so ive beaten dao solo before (on easy) and ive never played it on nightmare, what if i.........................................hmm...

[4unnyr0se]

PLEASEEEE MATCHING WITH CAPTAINS ON TINDER WITH USHI AND KITA PLEASEEE IM ON MY HANDS AND KNEES 🙁 FROM ONE AUTISTIC TO ANOTHER I AM BEGGING YOU

❥ timeskip! haikyuu captains matching with you on tinder | wakatoshi ushijima and shinsuke kita

warnings: timeskip! ushijima and kita, fem! reader size kink, protected sex, hayloft sex, unprotected sex, biting, marking, virgin! ushijima, soft dom! kita, spanking, rough sex, tendou mentioned, kind of dom reader for ushijima

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 2k

Wakatoshi Ushijima | Loosing his virginity

Ushijima wasn’t a stranger to people talking about their sex lives around him. His face was so stoic and statuesque that no one could tell if he was uncomfortable listening to the subject. The topics spoken in his vicinity ranged from how big a woman’s breasts were to how someone lost their virginity. He had to admit, he was a bit more awkward around those conversations because he couldn’t relate. He was a 26-year-old virgin, while his teammates and rivals had no doubt lost their virginity years prior. Some people even lost their virginity in high school. How scandalous!

He had contacted Tendou, his closest friend from Shirtatorizawa, to hopefully give him advice on the subject. Tendou was shocked at first (and found this entire situation to be completely hilarious) but offered his advice anyway. He told Ushijima that losing your virginity doesn’t have to be a big deal, that it doesn’t have to be romantic or special. It’s just something that happens, and everyone is different. Tendou also recommended downloading Tinder, which is a very useful resource. “If you want sex with no strings attached, look no further.” his words rang in Ushijima’s ears, his thumb hovering directly over your profile. You seemed like a good match for him, but he didn’t really know what he wanted yet. 

Shrugging his shoulders, he slid right on your profile and was surprised when you matched with him. He had very clearly stated that he was a virgin in his biography (Why would he not? It was accurate), so that kind of deterred people from matching with him. You messaged him instantly, suggesting he visit your apartment sometime this week. Of course, he accepted; that was the whole reason why he was on that app. He had one concern, however. Ushijima was massive, bigger than any other man by a wide margin. Could you handle him?

“Shh,” gentle sounds left your lips as you covered your dripping core above Ushijima’s length, observing how it was practically twitching with want for you. “We don’t have to rush things, okay? I know it’s your first time, baby,” you kissed the side of his cheek tenderly, your nails dragging themselves up and down his muscular chest. “Just let me make you feel good.”

He could only nod as your lips touched his once more, biting on his swelling bottom lip playfully. His hands rested on your hips, kneading the flesh between his calloused fingers. His usual stoic face was flushed, lipstick marks adorning his chapped lips and thick neck. He impatiently squeezed your hips, not daring to open his mouth just yet. 

“Oh? Are you ready now, ‘Toshi?” you purred, breaking the kiss to lower yourself down even further. “You have to tell me if you want this, baby. Or else I won’t do it.”

“P-please,” Ushijima mumbled, his eyes staring intensely into yours. He couldn’t take it anymore; he needed to feel you. He needed to know if the stories his teammates told him were true and if it felt like euphoria once he was inside you. Without giving you any warning, he thrust his hips upwards, pushing his pulsating shaft inside your sobbing core. “Sorry, couldn’t wait any longer. Fuck.”

“Shit!” you cried out, balancing yourself on his broad shoulders. “Y-you’re really fucking big. G-gimme a second, okay?” your breath was quick and shallow, your walls wrapping so perfectly around his huge cock. Was he really a virgin? There was no way in hell someone with that big of a dick was a virgin. After regaining your composure, your hips began to move up and down on his length, a wanton mewl escaping your lips as the tip of his cock brushed against your most sensitive place. 

“Go faster,” Ushijima demanded, gripping harder onto your hips. He wanted to take charge but had no experience in this department. What if he messed up? What if he hurt you? His left hand was the size of your entire ass, you were so fragile compared to him. “Wanna feel more of you.” He cracked his palm against your ass softly, massaging the stinging flesh soon afterward. 

You nodded, burying your blushing face in his neck. Your bruised lips peppered soft kisses on his skin as you continued to bounce up and down on his gigantic cock, his head brushing against your cervix so deliciously. All that could be heard in your apartment was the sensual sound of R&B music, your wanton cries of pleasure, and Ushijima’s occasional grunt or deep moan. He wasn’t very vocal, but he was close; he could feel his cock twitching inside of you, relishing in the sensation of your gummy walls, attempting to milk him for all he was worth. “I’m, fuck, I’m gonna cum soon. Feels fucking incredible.”

“D-d’ya wanna cum inside o-or on my tits?” you whimpered, feeling your own climax quickly approaching. He was just so fucking big, and his voice was so deep. Each word he spoke made your clit throb even harder. “P-please ‘Toshi!”

“Inside,” he demanded, bolding, leaning up to kiss you once more. The kiss was molten, full of fire and passion that he had so long oppressed. He groaned in your mouth as he felt you let go of your cock, feeling your body convulse around him. The sounds of your pathetic and fucked out mewls drove him over the edge, his cum painting the walls of your womb white. 

You broke the kiss and smiled at him, pulling yourself off of his cock with a pop! Ushijima groaned at the sight of his seed trickling down your thighs so beautifully, looking like a Renaissance painting. Was this the sensation his teammates were talking about earlier, was it this kind of beauty? 

“Was that a good first time?” you asked, snapping him out of his wandering thoughts. He nodded and got off the bed, dressing himself quickly. “Yes, I liked it. Thanks.” The faintest tinge of pink dusted his cheeks, his eyes not daring to meet yours. He knew that if he looked into your pretty eyes again, he would be included to stay, and he couldn’t risk getting distracted from volleyball. 

“You have my number if you ever want to, y’know, fuck again. You were really good for a virgin.” Was that a compliment or an insult? Ushijima couldn’t tell. Maybe it was both, he didn’t take it personally. He turned towards you, still not making eye contact. Fuck, you were so damn pretty. Was missing his practice tomorrow really worth it? Did he want to have you in his arms that badly? 

“Maybe I’ll give you a call some other time.”

Shinsuke Kita | The florist

Kita loved the local farmers market. It was where he could sell his rice without worrying about the middleman. It was peaceful, seeing the mothers bring their children and pets. Seeing couples holding hands as they checked out the local food and drink vendors. This weekend, Kita wasn’t at his usual booth. He chose to browse instead, having turned an acceptable profit this month. There were stands that he had seen a million times before and one that was brand new. Fresh, the paint is not yet chipped off by children carelessly running into it. And it smelled beautiful, but that was no surprise. After all, it was a florist's booth.

He saw no one running the stand currently, maybe they were on break. Kita shrugged and took out his phone, opening Tinder to mindlessly swipe through it. It wasn’t an ideal pastime, but it beat standing around waiting for the floral stall owner to show up. 

You greeted him with a rushed hello, an embarrassed blush tinting your cheeks as you apologized for being away from the stand for so long. Before Kita could respond, you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. Opening the notification, you saw none other but the profile of the man standing before you, looking incredibly attractive. 

“You matched with me,” you blushed, holding your phone for Kita to see. He smiled softly, thinking it was adorable how you could barely make eye contact with him. 

“It appears I have.”

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so well, princess,” Kita purred against your lips, thrusting into you so gently Like you would break like you were made of glass. “Think you can take more of me, darling? I’m barely halfway inside that pretty pussy.”

Fuck, his voice made you squeeze around him even harder. Here you were, laying under him in a hayloft with your hands clawing desperately at his muscular back whilst he thrust inside of you so slowly, painfully slow. Was he trying to be a tease? Was making you squirm his kink? “J-just fuck me already! Don’t tease. It’s mean!” you whimpered in frustration, attempting to angle your hips in such a way that you could feel Kita deeper inside of your core. 

“I’m not trying to be mean, sweetness,” he chuckled against your lips, pecking them softly. They tasted like vanilla and roses, a pure scent that did not fit you being defiled in a hayloft. “Just don’t wanna be too rough with you, that’s all.” he squeezed your wrists, pinning them above your hand with just one of his hands. “But if a pretty girl like you wants me to go rough, I guess I have no choice.”

The atmosphere changed instantly as Kita slammed himself into you at full force, his length pistoning in and out of your sobbing core. Your pathetic and adorable sobs of pleasure filled the hayloft, the occasional beg and plead thrown in as Kita destroyed your insides with his cock. He was holding back, not wanting to break any barriers you had set up. But when you beg him in that angelic voice to fuck you, who is he to refuse a darling such as yourself?

“Is this any better, sweetheart?” Kita groaned against your neck, trailing kisses down the already bruised flesh until he reached that sweet spot just above your collarbone. His teeth just grazed the skin as he continued to practically slam into you, shaking the sensitive wood of the hayloft with each powerful thrust inside your drenched core. “Do you like it when I fuck you like this instead, hm?”

“Yes! Fuck, Kita! M’close, holy fuck! I’m so fucking close, please!” you sobbed into his shoulder, your nails leaving angry crescent imprints on his back in accompaniment with the array of feral red scratches. “Please, please, please! Lemme cum!”

Kita moaned at your desperate words, the cadence of your voice making his dick twitch deep inside of you. He was close to his climax as well, your mewls of pleasure making the sensations he was feeling all the more delicious. “Yeah, you wanna cum pretty girl? It’s okay, cum on my fucking cock. Fucking make a mess all over me.” he bit down harshly onto your collarbone, punctuating every other sentence fragment with a powerful thrust into your weeping cunt. He felt your gummy walls attempting to pull him impossibly deeper, your orgasm approaching incredibly fast.

Finally, your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave of complete euphoria. You sobbed as your release coated his cock, almost sending Kita over the edge in tandem. Quickly, Kita pulled out of your throbbing core and frantically fisted his cock, quietly roaring as his hot and sticky ropes of white painted your stomach so beautifully. He stood above you for a moment, admiring how beautiful you were from his point of view. Shaking from your orgasm, covered in his mess. You looked so fucking perfect.

“That was incredible,” Kita smiled at you, sitting beside you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, kissing the teeth marks he had left earlier. “Do you feel good, sweetheart?” His tone was soft, gentle, and kind. He wanted to ensure you knew you would be cared for, even though you both accomplished what you wanted. 

“I feel amazing, thank you.” you smiled, resting your face on his exposed shoulder. Your eyes landed on the scratches and marks you left on his back, fingers tracing over them tenderly. “Uh, sorry about all of this. I’m not usually this rough.”

Kita kissed the top of your head and pulled you closer to his form, caging you in his muscular arms whilst he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. 

“You have nothing to worry about, pretty girl.”

okay this ask was literally so sweet i love u nonnie

[zozosrozo]

Choi Su-bong/Thanos (Squid Game) x fem! reader HCS

IM OBSESSED WITH THIS MAN!!!!!

also first ever post?! it’s a little short, but hope ya enjoy!!

SFW:

• he ADORES physical touch

• touching u at every chance he gets, like even simple hand holding, leaning against u

• HE LOVES IT ESPECIALLY WHEN IT COMES FROM U!!

• casually grabs u by ur ass in public, or give u a lil slap. when u confront him about it, he acts like he dont know what are u talking about, then giggle

• using ur breast like fidget toy, when he’s stressed

• squeezing it, when he feels like it

• shoving his head between ur boobs, bro can stay like that for a good 10 minutes until he calms down

• if u ask him if he would still love u as a worm, he would tell u that he’s not a zoophile

• pet names!! baby, babe, princess are his favs!

• he’s not so good with commitment and stuff like that, would prefer an open relationship (one sided tho, he's so possesive of u)

• have huge jealousy issues when it comes to u

• a male species near u??? he goes into rage mode, getting aggressively touchy to claim u! show everyone that u are his!!

• would apologise to u with rap songs

“Y/N” he screamed outside your house. throwing rocks at the window to wake u up.

“what the fuck…” u muttered to yourself, as u walked over to the window to check what this idiot come up with this time.

as soon as he saw your face, he screamed again, his hands clutching onto his chest “SEÑORITA!!! I WANT TO APOLOGISE TO U!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!! U DO REALISE THAT ITS 3 AM RIGHT NOW???” u screamed back at him, slightly leaning forward through window.

“I LOVE U!!!!!” he get on his knees.

“ARE U HIGH?????” u asked, clearly pissed at his presence.

“HI!!!!!” he said as he waved his hands to u, enthusiastically with a goofy grin.

even after this response, u can’t tell if he’s high. that’s pretty much how he’s acting regardless if he’s on drugs or not.

he turn on boombox, a cliche beat hit your ears. he stands up and cleared his throat.

“Yo, I messed up, I admit it, I’m a clown,

Flirting like a fool when you weren’t around.

But I swear, it was harmless, just a slip of the tongue,

Now I’m here confessing where I went wrong.

I told her, "Hey, nice shoes," and that’s all I meant,

But now I’m in the doghouse, paying the rent.

Baby, you’re the star, the queen of my heart,

And that other conversation? A throwaway part.

She laughed at my joke, yeah, I felt kinda cool,

But now I see, I was the class clown fool.

I’d never trade you for some silly chat,

You’re the boss, the CEO, I’m just the doormat.

I’ll buy you flowers, write your name in the sky,

Sing off-key if it’ll dry your eyes.

I’ll even quit drugs if you need me to,

Just don’t leave me hangin’, I’m a mess without you.

So baby, I’m here, on my knees with this beat,

Admitting my crimes, can’t handle defeat.

Let’s laugh this off, put it in the past,

‘Cause you and me, girl, we’re built to last.”

he end up the song showing a small heart formed with his thumb and index finger.

u sighed “all right, come inside”

“YAYY!!!” he did a happy jump and clapped his feet in midair.

• tbh he’s so silly

• steals flowers from a random garden for u

• night visits, but uses a window instead of a door to enter ur place, literally like some kind of teenager

• even if u gave him the keys to ur apartment, he will use the window no matter what

it was dark outside, about 11 pm. u were coming back from work. damn how exhausted u felt. some arguments with clients, boss yelling at u. it was not ur best day for sure.

u checked ur phone. still no text from Thanos. why he was ghosting u? probably he don’t want to deal with ur complains about how bad ur day went.

u opened the apartment door. u don't give a damn about anything. you plan to go to bed right away, you don't have the strength to change your clothes, wash yourself or eat something.

you threw everything aside and went to the bedroom. when you turn on the light in the room, you see your boyfriend lying on his side, resting his head on his hand, rose in his teeth.

“U WANT TO GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK???” u flinched. u can’t get used to Thanos randomly spawning in ur house.

“and i missed u too, princess” he grinned, standing up and then theatrically hand over the rose to u.

“i brought ur fav burgers and lotta beer” he said, pointing out at ur kitchen.

“thanks” u smiled softly at him. u can’t help but melt inside at his behaviour. he’a an asshole, but what a cute asshole.

“no problem, babe” he leaned to u, giving u a tight hug. burying his face in the crook of ur neck.

• avoids deep emotional conversation

• would tell that he loves u, but he don’t put much weight into that

• he’s saying it casually like it’s common sense that he loves u

• painting each others nails!!!!

NSFW:

• pansexual king, but he wouldn’t label himself

• he don’t care about gender, he fucks who he consider as cute and that’s it!!

• when u ride him, he would comment something like: WROOM WROOM!! or YEEHAW!!!

• A TOTAL FREAK….

• piss kink (y’all can’t prove me wrong)

• HE LIKES IT DIRTY!!!!

• public sex

• like fingering u in a club or on a party, sometimes anal when he's high

• claiming u like that in front of other people?? IT TURNS HIM ON SO BADD

• never a sub, it would hurt his ego

• bro don’t know what gentle sex is

• always rough and aggressive

• smokes weed/cigarettes during sex, blowing smoke in your face

• talking about himself in third person "yeah, babe. the great Thanos will make u feel so good”

“u like that slut? u like Thanos’s dick that much??”

• he’s not into after care. usually he just rolls down on bed, doesn't even bother putting on clothes, hug u tightly and fall asleep like that