#he only dipped once before i could give him anything which is. fine i guess

[ishibishie]

WE FUCKING GAMING

#not art #it's time for another exciting episode of CIRRUS'S SCOUTING ADVENTURES #god steven treated me SO damn well this time! make up for the ss steven scouts lol #my scout points are at 198/400 and i snagged 4 copies in that time! #just threw him a candy after 4/5 because i may try for some other pairs this month #ALSO! steven in the lodge is so FUCKING CUTE HHGAGSHAGEHSH #i wanna physically Explode he's so adorable when he does his lil hand clap with that innocent smile 🥺 #he only dipped once before i could give him anything which is. fine i guess #maybe i didn't talk about rocks enough when he left early :( picky ass bitch #between the new event and steven's lodge presences guess who has to update her steven manifesto #i'll announce when i'm taking the manifesto offline for edits whenever i get to that point :) expect that update before the end of april! #hhhnggshsghsnshsg steven. hhhsnhh.

[silverstonesainz-archive]

this time it's forever

─── max talks, he loves to talk. especially about her.

pairing: max verstappen x her warnings: this is sad; mentions of loss & death

“how do you know her?”

max turns his head in the direction of the voice. he doesn’t recognize the old lady who sits beside him, but he smiles politely anyways. he shuffles over a little bit to give her room to set her purse down. 

“she’s my best friend, and my first love.” he smiles fondly as he turns towards the front of the room, staring at the smile he had fallen for all those years ago. “how about you?”

“extended family, she’s my grand-niece. it’s nice that you came.”

“how could i not?” he chuckles softly, looking down at his lap. his hands slide down his thighs, down to the tops of his knees, an anxious tick he never quite got over. the little old lady hums softly beside him, shifting left to right in his seat trying to get a view of the front of the room. 

“i’m pretty sure i see some seats towards the front of the room,” max offers, craning his neck to look over the rows of people ahead of him. 

“nonsense, the seat i have his perfectly fine. i also don’t want to leave you, son. i don’t think this is something you should be alone for.”

max is grateful, the corners of lips twitching upwards and his cheeks indenting ever so lightly. little old lady introduces herself as nana, and nothing else. she offers him a peppermint from her purse, but he declines shyly. 

“so, tell me about her.”

he can’t help the thoughtful smile that graces his lips as he remembers her and the moments he was given to love her. he tells nana about meeting her. she was alone in the back corner of the restaurant, dipping bread in oil and vinegar. he spotted her from the other end of the room, also on a date that wasn’t doing all too well either. she sat for a whole hour, nursing bottomless bread and a martini, before he finally got up and walked over to her. his date was in the bathroom— had been in the bathroom for a while at that point. if he had to guess, she probably left after she realized he had been looking past her the entire time. 

he talks about the conversation over another basket of bread, another hour of small talk turned big. he tells nana about how he asked for her number and her refusal to give it. meet me here next friday at 7, maybe then i’ll give you my number, she said. 

so he showed up that following friday at 6:45. he sat on the bench outside and waited for her to walk by. and the rest is history.

he tells nana that her favorite color is a deep red, but also a light peach. she likes morning runs, and always has two glasses of water right after she’s done. she hates asparagus, but max managed to convince her to try it once. she loves traveling— her favorite place to go to is st. moritz. she loves the snow, she loves being in the cold. 

he talks about how great she is, how selfless she’s always been. he says that he fell for her and the way she listened. she always listened, even if max had been talking for hours (which he has), she listens like it’s only been a minute. she is compassionate, caring, and she loves with every fiber of herself.

he tells nana that she’s one of the greatest people he’s ever met.

“well… what went wrong?”

max leans back into the chair, shrugging his shoulders. “what always goes wrong. we grew apart, wanted different things. it was never anything bad, and even when we ended things we remained friends.” 

nana smiles at him, leans over and pats his leg. “you’re a good boy.”

he’s never really been known to be— good that is. always in the wrong, always never enough. max is the furthest thing from a good boy. but the way nana said it made him believe it was true. he smiles at the older woman, before turning back to the front of the room. he sees your smile again, it breaks his heart a little.

“he’s cute, do you know him?” 

max follows her finger, finding charles standing at the front of the room right next to her. he wears the same suit that he is, black over a white button up. the knot of his tie is done up tightly, neat and pressed. max is sure he learned that from her. 

“yeah, that’s charles. we work together, had some great battles too. he’s a good guy.”

charles is everything max isn’t. a charmer, always enough. charles is a good guy. 

“i actually was the one to introduce them,” max continues. 

max talks, he loves to talk. he tells nana that they had met when she visited him in monaco. she pulled him out of bed for a morning run and they ran into charles when he was on his way in. they’d always been friendly after that, charles always smiling and saying hello. there wasn’t any overlap, max reassures. they started dating two years after she and max called it quits. she called him one night, it had been a while since he’d heard from her besides routine holiday and birthday greetings. 

she told him everything. about how they had reconnected out of the blue, and how he called her every night to say sweet dreams. her voice was excited when she spoke of charles, she sounded happy. she told him that she didn’t want things to be weird, but that she felt that he should know. and though max said it was okay, he wasn’t sure then. 

he said it was okay because she was honest, that she had the decency to give him a warning rather than letting him find out through some post online. he said it was okay because it’s charles, he’s a good guy— and it’s her, she deserved to be happy. 

he wasn’t sure till he saw her in monaco again, sporting that bright scarlett red in support of her new boyfriend. he saw the way her eyes lit up, the smile gracing her painted lips when he speaks. not even on their best days did max ever see her look up at him like that. it stung, another shot at his ego. 

there was a little bit of resentment for charles, max admits. he would compare himself to the monegasque, pick apart his character in his head. they aren’t all that different. both driven, both competitive, both good at what they do. but he was just better at loving you.

“but it didn’t sting all the time.” max tries to round up his story, “i got over it eventually, i moved on.”

“no animosty between you and him?”

max shakes his head, “no no, nothing like that. how could i be mad? he’s a good guy. plus, i like them together. he made her happy. and i like seeing her happy, it suits her.”

“you still love her, don’t you?” nana’s smile is sad, almost pitiful, as she watches the way max stares up at her. 

he doesn’t hestitate to nod, “yeah, i think i always will. she’s my first love, and there really is no getting over something as great as that.” 

“how did you hear?”

the nostalgic smile falls from his face. “charles called. didn’t think too much of it, we talk sometimes, try to get dinner with some of the other people we work with. but then he said it… to be honest i still haven’t really processed it.”

“it takes time dear.”

“how much time?”

nana shrugs, her small hand coming up to pat his shoulder. “i wish i knew son, i wish i knew.” 

he nods, trying to ignore the way hopelessness picks at his heart. “i uh… i’m gonna go say hi.”

she shoos him off, and max stands. he feels out of place, like he doesn’t belong. nobody spares him a second look as he walk to the front of the room. he wonders if everyone was reminiscing the same way he just was, thinking of all the greatest moments spent with her.

charles opens and extends his arms towards max when he spots him getting closer. they hug each other tightly, firm pats on the back. and when they pull away, they reflect the other: bloodshot eyes and sad smiles.

“i’m so sorry for your loss mate.” max mumbles. 

charles sniffles, running a tissue under his nose, “glad you could make it, she would’ve been happy to see you came.”

max turns towards her smile, immortalized in a frame forever. his eyes burn with tears, but he doesn’t try to stop them this time. he lets them fall onto his cheeks, for the first time since finding out, he allows himself to grieve. he grieves for all the good times and bad, he grieves for what was and what could’ve been. he grieves you for the second time in his life, this time forever.

note: i know i have reqs & wips waiting for me. but i needed to get this out of my system. the itch has been scratched.

wanna be notified for new releases?

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen angst #max verstappen fanfic

[rising-volteccers]

Whenever I see Friede get inconvenienced in the episodes, I can't pass up the chance to write something out of it. One of my close friends said that it's an endearing trait of mine to see an opportunity for h/c and jump on it, so here's a short, self indulgent piece post HZ030 haha!

Series: Pokemon Horizons

Characters: Friede, Murdock

--

After they've finished breakfast out on the deck, everyone pitched in to clean up the table. Diana, Liko and Roy carried used dishes while Mollie and Orla picked up other dishware before heading towards the kitchen. That left Friede and Murdock to do the heavy lifting by putting away the foldable table and chairs brought out from the meeting room.

When Friede bent down to pick up a couple of chairs, a strange wave of dizziness hit him. He just about prevented himself from falling over by reaching out to the nearest object for support. In this case, Murdock bit back a yelp from the abrupt hand that clasped his shoulder.

“H-Hey! I was carrying–oh, are you alright?” When Murdock looked over his shoulder, he found Friede with his other hand on the table, head dipped while he took in deep, steadying breaths.

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” Friede eventually responded. Once the dizziness passed, he pulled away from Murdock, blinking rapidly until his friend’s worried visage came into view. Friede automatically wore an assuring smile. “Sorry, guess I moved too quickly.”

“Are you sure about that? I can handle things if you need to sit down.”

“Pretty sure! It was just a one time thing. Now come on, let's not keep the others waiting! There's a mountain of stuff to clean up, yeah?”

Friede once again reached for the chairs, though this time he made sure to move a little more carefully. Aside from feeling oddly tired, he didn't get any other dizzy spells throughout the walk towards the kitchen.

Afterwards, he could tell that Murdock kept a subtle eye on him by giving him lighter tasks. As that strange fatigue persisted, Friede didn't object to the lessened workload. It already took effort to act normally around the rest of the crew until they were done.

While everyone else left the kitchen to go about their day, Friede hung back until it was just him and Murdock left. Only then did he plop down onto a chair, legs splayed with his head resting atop folded arms.

For the next ten or so minutes, Murdock focused on drying up the washed dishes so he could store them away. He didn’t start up a conversation with Friede, opting to give his friend some time to rest. Perhaps then he’d share how he truly felt. Once he put away the tableware, Murdock went to the table and took a seat on the empty chair next to Friede’s.

“Are you sure you're alright? You look wiped and it's only after breakfast,” Murdock questioned, breaking the silence that had settled in the kitchen. That concerned look made an appearance again on his face.

Friede turned his head till his half lidded eyes met Murdock's. “Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm fine. Don't know why I got really tired all of a sudden.”

“Think it's a sign that you're getting sick?” If that was the case, Murdock would have to bring out the recipe for his soups that he’d make whenever one of them felt unwell. 

“No, at least I don’t think so. I don’t feel sick or anything. Just tired,” Friede replied, eyes sliding shut. “Which is weird cause I got enough sleep last night. Had a nice breakfast too so that should’ve energized me. Instead it feels like my energy got sapped.”

“Huh, that is weird.” Murdock crossed his arms as he tried to figure out what other reason led to his friend’s strange lethargy. Since Friede wasn’t on night shift yesterday, Murdock more or less trusted that he spoke the truth about getting enough sleep. He was also right in that eating the hearty breakfast prepared should have given him the energy to go about his day, not drain it.

What was different about today? Everyone ate together on the deck, though half the Pokemon didn’t really touch their food because they were asleep–

Wait, that’s it!

“You drank out of that Sinistea earlier.”

“Yeah? Nastiest thing I’ve tasted–oh. Oh.” Friede suddenly groaned out loud, burying his face into his arms again. Murdock can’t quite catch his grumblings but he was certain it involved his misgivings towards the Sinistea.

“You can’t really blame the little one. From how Diana put it, that Sinistea was just recently born. It didn’t know any better.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Friede once again turned his head to look at Murdock, sporting quite the miserable expression now that the mystery had been solved. People who accidentally ingested Sinistea not only got their tastebuds ruined, they also get their vitality sapped away. Seeing that the Sinistea was recently born and he almost immediately spat out the liquid, it didn’t really get into his body. Still, he probably accidentally swallowed some in his surprise, triggering its effects however delayed it was.

“At least we know the cause. I’m guessing what you need now is plenty of rest to replenish the energy?”

“Yeah. I already did plenty of that before…” Friede recalled the previous week of being laid out for a few days due to his bruised back. It dampened his mood to know that he’d have to rest some more in order to recover. He really felt like the universe was out for him with how the past couple of weeks went. 

“It’s only until you’ve got your energy back.” Murdock did look sympathetic. He knew all too well how Friede got when he was forced to slow down and rest for long periods of time. “How about you go back to your room and see about getting some sleep? Maybe you’ll feel better after a nap.”

Friede groaned once more but eventually, he did push himself into sitting up again. Running a hand down his face, his eyes flicker to Murdock. 

“You got things handled?”

“Yeah, you can trust me. Get some rest. I’ll wake you up for lunch later.”

Murdock reached out to offer a hand for Friede to take when he stood up. He didn’t look dizzied from the action so Murdock trusted him to make it safely back to his room. Once Friede left the kitchen, Murdock headed towards the fridge to pull out some ingredients. Perhaps a hearty stew was just what Friede needed to boost his energy later…

#Pokemon Horizons #Anipoke #Pokeani #Professor Friede #Murdock (Pokemon) #Hana writes stuff

[cleverrpgnamehere]

a monument to all of our sins

Fandom: Worlds Beyond Number

Relationships: Ame & Suvi, Ame & Suvi & Eursulon, Suvi & Soft & Stone, Suvi & Steel

Story tags: Worlds Beyond Number Episode 14 SPOILERS, sponge baths, Suvi's relationship to magic, somatic spell mechanics and notations.

Content warnings: Brief mention of nudity within the context of bathing, implied mention of Soft and Stone being deceased.

A/N: Brennan's moment with the reflexive indicative got in my brain and wouldn't go away, so I had to write a fic about it. While I adore Eursulon, this fic doesn't feature much of him but instead focuses on Suvi's relationship with Ame and her relationship with magic.

I am also tagging @quiddie because even though it's not smut, I just needed Aabria to know I have Suvi brain rot now. Can also be read on AO3, but I posted this on mobile so I guess I'll call it the source?

Summary: Once on the airship, Suvi gives Ame a bath and talks with her parents.

---

Suvi looks at Ame, almost unnaturally still and quiet on the bed. She sees her, and sees Grandmother Wren like this, too, and shakes her head to remove the image from her mind. Ame is not dead. She won’t die, not if Suvi has anything to do with it.

Ame is filthy, and while Suvi could just Prestidigitation the dirt off of her, the thought makes her skin crawl. It’s fine in a pinch, but it’s not the most pleasant of feelings. Plus, she’s pretty sure that Ame would hate being cleaned by magic.

So, she orders supplies and receives them, and tells Eursulon to lift Ame. He does, and Suvi lays towels down before Eursulon lays Ame on top of them before he’s shooed out of the room by Suvi. She’ll take it from here.

She adds soap to a basin of warm water and rolls up her sleeves. Carefully, she undresses Ame, stripping her of her dirtied clothes, which she adds to a pile to be washed. She covers Ame again with a sheet, hoping to keep her as warm as possible throughout this whole thing. She dips a washcloth into the soapy water and starts on Ame’s face, gently moving the cloth in a circular motion. Ame smells like salt and sea and kudzu.

Suvi places the first washcloth in the soapy water again, then grabs a clean one and wets it in the plain water. She rinses Ame’s face, making sure to remove every trace of soap until only the fragrance remains. A quick dry with yet another towel and her face is done. And then Suvi moves to the neck, repeating the process of soapy gently scrubbing, then rinsing. Right arm, left arm, chest, legs–Suvi gets them all. She spares a moment to lament that there’s no way to wash Ame’s hair as she rolls her friend onto her side.

It takes a while, but eventually Ame is clean, washed of any trace of Port Talon and smelling faintly of lotus and sandalwood. Suvi dresses Ame in one of her own nightgowns, pulls the towels out from under her, and settles the blankets around her friend again. Something still stinks, and she knows what it is: the Fox.

Suvi grimaces as she picks him up by the scruff of his neck. He smells like fish guts and she can’t stand it anymore. She dunks his body into the soapy basin, taking up the cloth again to get his face and neck, which she won’t submerge. As Suvi scrubs, she can see the dirt leeching into the soapy water. He’ll be mad when he wakes up, but it will be worth it.

She makes sure to scrub every inch of him, too, before rinsing and drying him off. Suvi wishes Ame were here to cast Gust, but she figures getting the Fox dry is the most important bit, so she uses Prestidigitation to make sure she gets all the water off of his fur. She replaces him under Ame’s right hand, and takes hold of her left.

The feeling of uselessness slowly starts to creep back in now that her task is done. Suvi looks at her friend’s face as she bites her lip. She knows that Ame has been training for this sort of situation and is fighting as hard as she can. She just wishes that she could join Ame in battle, lend her some strength and additional power. Suvi thinks about the battle with the boat captain, how Ame nearly died, crumpling to the ground. Her mind easily supplies her with the image of Ame collapsing in Suvi’s room, convulsing and expelling black bile from her mouth.

She squeezes Ame’s hand. “I should have stopped you,” Suvi whispers. “I know I can’t stop witches or wild ones, but I should have tried, at least. I know Steel would have the resources to help in this situation. I should have made you wait to do it properly. And I’m so, so sorry Ame.” She feels the damn break, and the fear overtakes her. She sobs, her head falling to Ame’s chest, shaking so much she can’t feel Ame’s breathing. Suvi curls around Ame and cries herself out.

---

When Ame doesn’t need anything, Suvi spends her vigil on the bench under the huge window in her room. Eursulon sleeps on the floor by the hearth, where an arcane fire glows blue behind the grate and keeps the room at a comfortable temperature. Suvi spares a moment to adjust a blanket over her brother as he lightly snores. She spots a small rip in his shirt and Mends it without a thought.

When she sits, she pulls out the book she has from Morrow that used to belong to her parents. Holding it in her hands, gently turning the pages, Suvi is struck by the thought that her mother and father once held the book like she does now. Did Soft’s eyebrow furrow like hers as he worked on a complicated bit of spellcraft? Did Stone’s elegant fingers curl around the pages protectively, guarding the secrets within? Did her parents bend their heads close over this book, whispering secrets of magic like lovers’ poetry?

Suvi pauses for a moment, overwhelmed with her own imagination. She never truly knew her parents, her own memories of them hazy and disjointed. What she actually remembers is stories of memories about them, told to her mainly by Steel. Suvi can’t remember their faces, just their portraits. She’s not sure if she actually remembers dancing with her father, Soft sweeping her off of her feet and twirling her with a laugh. She likes to think that she can recall her mother’s voice telling her “Be strong, Suvi, for there will be worse trials than this” as they both stared at a windstorm that had scared her. But holding this book in her hands, knowing that her parents have done the exact same thing with the exact same object, feels like a tether through time.

Her fingers trace her father’s somatic notes, picturing him in her mind’s eye as he scribbles. There’s a low-level spell in the margins, scrawled hastily as an afterthought. The ambitransitive lexical, future inchoative, passive relative, reflexive indicative with null cleft–

“What?” Suvi whispers out loud. “That doesn’t make any–no, you, you need that. You have to–uh–”

She cuts herself off as she realizes she’s speaking aloud. But Soft is wrong , he has to be, the reflexive indicative is what makes the magic flow in the first place. Suvi decides to prove it, moving through the somatic components of the spell, and she realizes that he’s written down her mother’s Mending spell. The one with the small contraction that makes it a little quicker to cast, cutting out a motion to flow from one casting to the next as if rocking with the tide. How had she never noticed before that the one thing they cut out was the reflexive indicative?

“Oh,” she breathes. “Oh, you’re right. That makes–” Suvi cuts herself off, laughing a little.

“Suvi, who are you talking to?” Eursulon mumbles from the floor.

“My dad.” She doesn’t look away from that small, scribbled note, running her fingers over it again. Suvi understands it now, her mind working with breathtaking swiftness. If Mending doesn’t need a reflexive indicative to work, then what other spells will still work with it removed?

Suvi guesses that this is just the tip of the iceberg. Presumably, if the reflexive indicative is what makes the magic flow and it is unnecessary in a cantrip, she has to assume that all other cantrips don’t need it, either. Is it because they’re just that low-level? She’ll need to do experiments, for sure, but for now, Suvi considers the likely outcomes. One, cutting out the reflexive indicative will work on cantrips and no other spells. Two, cutting it out will work for cantrips and low-level spells, but will eventually hit a threshold where more energy is needed. Or three, cutting it out works for every spell, every time, and is always a stupid flourish at the end of a spell, functioning as a period in the somatic sentence. Four, every spell, every time doesn’t need it, and the reflexive indicative is–what?

If Mending doesn’t need it, why are most wizards in the Citadel taught that it does?

Who gains? she thinks urgently. Who gains what from this simple little note? Suvi bites her lip, hunching over the book. If the Citadel is lying about the function of the reflexive indicative, then they must gain something from it. What is most precious to the Citadel? Information. Information and raw power.

What if this note could be tracked? What if the Citadel could tell what spells were being used by every trained wizard on the planet? And what if those spells pulled some power the Citadel’s way? Suvi feels slightly dizzy at the prospect. Hundreds of thousands of wizards, casting what must be at least a million spells a day. At that scale, tracking everything would be a nightmare. The only reason to teach the reflexive indicative in every spell is if there’s that siphoning of power.

“Oh,” Suvi says again. Her world is tilting as she sits with the book. Why does the Citadel need that much power? Yes, there was a war going on, but the somatic components have been the same for generations, before any war, since humans discovered arcane magic. So what are they hiding?

There’s a knock at her door, and Steel’s voice, muffled through the wood, says, “Suvi? You awake?”

Belatedly, she realizes she’s been crying. She pulls out a handkerchief, wiping her eyes and nose as she answers. “I–uh, yeah, yes. I’m sorry,” Suvi replies, clutching the book to her chest. Her father’s note presses against her heart as she crosses the chamber and answers the door.

Steel’s eyes quickly take her in, assessing and appraising. She doesn’t say anything. She’s never said anything when Suvi has cried.

“We arrive at the Citadel within the hour,” Steel says. She rests a hand on the hilt of her sword, her mouth twisting into a small frown. “Uhm. We should talk.”

“Oh,” Suvi breathes, afraid for a moment that Steel can read her traitorous mind. But no, she needs a crystal ball to do that. “Oh. Yeah.”

She looks back into the room at Eursulon and Ame. Suvi has a sudden and clear fear grab her heart. Did she lead her brother and her friend straight into a trap? Or has she been the trap for the whole time she’s known them?

“It’s–It has been a long time coming, and there has never been what feels like the right moment, but the time has come to speak of Soft and Stone. Of the last night that you saw them. And I need to tell you about Yorrin.”

#worlds beyond number #worlds beyond number fic #suvirin kedberiket #eursulon #ame

[casspurrjoybell-29]

Healing Ties - Chapter 12 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Yore let out a long sigh.

Now the unpleasant part, for the third time in the last hour.

Yore got down onto all fours and started to shift.

Besides being painful it also felt difficult, like it required great effort, though once started the whole process would be much harder to halt than continue.

Every muscle strained, every joint twisted.

Yore lifted his large, furry head and looked at the mage.

The mage looked a little afraid.

That was always expected from someone who hadn't seen a werewolf before.

They were far from the most creepy thing that lived out here but they were quite large and he'd been told they had a predatory intensity to their gaze.

The mage hesitated.

"Is he... is his mind the same? Is he the same person?"

"Yes, exactly the same. He won't bite you or anything."

The mage folded his arms over his chest, hugging himself.

"Then I shouldn't touch him. He wouldn't want me to."

"He's a little different about what he is and isn't okay with when he's in this form."

"Well... well maybe in that sense it would be okay but he doesn't want me to touch him anymore anyway. Because of what I did. He doesn't trust me."

"Yeah, he did tell me about that. What's the story there?"

The mage shrugged.

"It's just... something I can do."

"Seems handy."

The mage was still hugging himself.

His hands bunched in the fabric of his sleeves.

"It's not. I don't ever want to do it again. If I'd just been good and trusted Yore everything would have been fine but I tried to run away and I attacked Yore and now he's never going to trust me again and everyone will think I'm dangerous."

Yore pushed past Lucas and approached the mage, giving his arm a gentle nuzzle with his nose.

The mage was drawing in fast, uneven breaths.

"There, see?" Lucas said. "Listen, all of this distrust, all the secrets, it was because he was worried you might have been here to spy on us but that's clearly not the case. And I think whatever you were worried about has now proven to also not be the case."

The mage unfolded his arms and reached out a hand to tentatively brush Yore's ear.

Yore dipped his head and welcomed the touch.

"Do you think you could tell us your name, then? I'll admit, Bob doesn't really suit you."

The mage hesitated for a long moment.

He ghosted his hand over the top of Yore's head and Yore shut his eyes and pressed up into the touch.

"Okay," the mage said finally. "My name is Fanner."

Yore's eyes flew open and he turned to look at Lucas.

From his wide eyes and half open mouth, Yore was guessing he wasn't the only one who recognised that name.

But was this really the Fanner they'd been told about?

Was this really Danya's friend, who they had been trying to find for almost a year now?

He looked around the right age and he fit Danya's description.

Danya had always stressed how attractive Fanner was,but that he'd had a hard time finding a master because couldn't stay focused and stand still.

Hadn't this Fanner said something similar?

That he had difficulty with that sort of thing?

"If you don't mind me asking, Fanner... which house were you raised in?"

Fanner had stopped petting Yore and was hugging himself again, looking between the two of them.

"Why? And why did you look at one another like that when I said my name?"

"It's nothing bad," Lucas assured him. "We just might know a friend of yours. Or not. I'm not the only Lucas out there and I'm sure you're not the only Fanner."

"Is it Duran? I haven't seen him in over a year now..."

"No, although now that you mention it, you did talk to a Duran, didn't you, Yore?"

Yore had been putting it off but it was time to shift back.

He forced his body through the agonising process again.

His joints were going to be so angry at him.

"Yes," Yore said when he finally stood on two feet again. "He's doing well. He's living full time with his master now."

"I miss him," Fanner confessed. "I don't know who else you could mean, though. He's the only person I would call a friend."

Yore and Lucas exchanged a look and Yore shook his head.

Finding out Danya was alive would be an emotional moment for Fanner.

As much as Yore wanted to be fully honest with him, it would be better if Danya could be there with him while he went through it.

"You're going to have questions that I think this friend of yours will do a better job answering than either of us can. We'll answer other questions now that we know you're not chipped but I think that one's better off waiting for later."

"Okay," Fanner agreed. "Will you tell me where you're taking me? What you want me for?"

"There are other mages who have run away or been liberated," Yore said as he started putting his pants back on. "Quite a few of them. We're taking you to be with them. And... we don't really want you for anything. You needed help, so we're providing it."

"There are others who have escaped?"

Yore inclined his head.

"There are."

"I was told it was impossible to escape. That we always got caught."

"Yeah, it's weird how the people who owned you would lie to you about that," Lucas commented. "Can't imagine why."

Fanner ducked his head and hunched his shoulders.

"I suppose some things I believe to be true... aren't true."

"Don't feel bad about that," Yore told him. "That's something every single escaped slave goes through. The fact that you're already accepting that instead of pushing back and denying puts you ahead of most."

"Especially for a Companion," Lucas added. "I fucking hate dealing with Companions."

"Lucas," Yore scolded.

"What? You know what I mean and he probably does too. Their training is impenetrable. They're very hard to get through to."

"No, I... I agree," Fanner said. "Of course something that makes for a good slave won't make for a good escaped slave. That's only logical."

"Are you a good slave?" Lucas asked.

Fanner shook his head.

"I'm not a good anything. But I... I'll try to be useful. I know I don't have much to offer but a pretty face but... um..."

"Fanner, you knocked me clean out, remember?" Yore pointed out. "That's a lot more than a pretty face."

"No," Fanner said, taking a physical step backwards as he shook his head. "I don't want to do that. Please. I don't want..."

"Okay, okay," Yore said before he could get too worked up. "Nobody's going to try to make you do anything. I was just saying. There's more to you than that."

"I don't want there to be..." Fanner murmured.

"Let's not worry about it too much for now," Yore said. "There's an inn nearby. Why don't we get you some clean clothes and a hot meal?"

Fanner chewed his lip.

"What if word has spread about my escape and people are looking for me and..."

"It's not a human inn," Lucas interrupted.

"Come on. You'll love it."

[ryukatters]

A drabble based off of this: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMRAX8CWF/

Context: Tiktok about how putting a pillow under a person’s pelvis can get them pregnant bc it allows for a better angle for c*m + comments saying that putting your legs up helps with conception (don’t ask me if this is true BECAUSE I HAVE NO IDEA JSJDJSKSK)

A/N: no I don’t want to talk about it <3 @phasmwrites​ has convinced me to post this draft that I wrote a while back, so this one is for you baby

Content/warnings: dark content, modern AU, smut, baby-trapping, dub con, non con, obsession, toxicity, mentions of pregnancy, unprotected sex, degradation, overstimulation, choking, if i’m forgetting something please let me know

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x afab reader

Minors, if you know what’s good for you, do not interact with whatever is below the cut.

Eren who is so deeply and passionately in love with you. Eren who loves so intensely that it causes him to become paranoid. Eren who will do anything to make sure you won’t leave him.

You’re the answer to his prayers, like an angel sent from above. From the moment he set his eyes on you, he knew you were the one. And he’d be damned if he ever let you go. You were the type of love people wrote songs about, dedicated their lives to finding, the type of love that can make someone go mad.

You two almost always fuck with a condom. And on the off chance you don’t, the pills you took daily on the dot served as another layer of protection to prevent any accidents. Eren also always went out of the way to buy you a Plan B the morning after. The two of you were both young, still in college. The idea of starting a family was one of the last things on your mind, too many years ahead.

Eren has different plans. He thinks that having a child is one fool-proof way of showing others that you’re taken. He can’t stand the mere thought of some random even attempting to woo you, so if they see your belly nice and round with his baby? No one else would stand a chance. He knows it’s wrong, but what other choice does he have? There’s so many other guys out there that could just waltz into your life and steal you away from right under Eren’s nose. He wants to make sure that never happens.

He also knows that you’d make an excellent mother— so kind, nurturing, loving. You won’t be able to stand raising your own without him by your side, you love him too much. You’ll be forced to need him, which is exactly why he decides to throw away your birth control tabs in the trash one morning while you were sleeping.

His princess deserves only the best, which is exactly why he takes the time to prep you, making sure you’re wet enough to take everything he has to give you. He makes sure that you’re comfortable, propping your bottom up on a plush pillow so he can go deep, just how you like it.

“Hey,” a voice snaps you back to reality. Your gaze shifts to Eren, who slaps the head of his cock against your clit, rubbing tantalizing circles around it one, two, three times before dipping the tip inside your tight hole that’s fluttering with desire. “There you are. Pay attention, alright? Not gonna ask again.”

“Wait, babe. Condom?”

“I’ll pull out.” He says it so quickly and with such conviction that you believe him.

When’s the last time you took your pills again? You can’t remember. Eren managed to distract you every single time your alarm went off to take it. You guess you forgot. You should be fine, right? As long as your boyfriend pulls out.

Eren brings his face close to yours, tendrils of his hair ticking your cheek. He gives you a wide smile before bringing his lips down to meet yours. He slips his tongue into your wet cavern, wanting to savor every single piece of yourself that you offer to him. You find yourself missing the warmth he brings once he pulls away, but not for long. Eren lips find their way to your neck, alternating between sucking and biting harshly on the sensitive skin. Every love bite he paints onto your skin fills him with satisfaction. Just another method of marking what’s his, another way to show others that you belong to him, and only him.

He gives you another kiss before he sheathes himself within you fully. Your back arches off the mattress as you let out a loud moan. He leans down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around your areola, sucking and biting lightly, hoping to ease any pain you’re feeling before giving the other one the same treatment. 

He starts off slow, his girth dragging along your insides tantalizingly before being sucked back in. He loves seeing you squirm as he fills you. He’s always said that you were perfect for him, that you two were made for each other. That the way your pussy wraps around his member like a glove was just a testament to that statement. 

His pace picks up, sweet gasps and groans falling from his lips as you both get lost in the pleasure. Eren can feel the knot in his abdomen threaten to unravel much sooner than he’d like. He stops suddenly after a particularly rough thrust to prevent himself from finishing too early, his throbbing member resting against the inside of your thigh.

The pause is enough to snap you out of your daze and back bring you back to reality. Your lift your head up to look at him. He meets your gaze, smirking wickedly before ramming back into you suddenly, pace picking up as if he never stopped. Your boyfriend really seems to be pushing it a bit too close this time around. 

“Babe, don’t cum inside m-“ you warn, before being cut off with a deep kiss from Eren that has your mind spinning.

“But you just feel so good, baby. Squeezing me so tight,” he pants, lips brushing against yours. “Makes me want to fill you up.”

You let out a faint gasp. He knows it’s sick, but the fear in your eyes makes him go dizzy. He feels like a predator that’s finally trapped his prey. 

“But—” you try to protest.

“’S makin’ me want to see how pretty your pussy’s gonna look with my cum. Be a good girl and just take it.” He doesn’t falter. “Fuck, I’m so fucking close. I’m gonna fuck a baby into you, I swear I will.” 

“Eren, don’t—“

 A sudden hand wrapped around your throat causes your pleas to die on the tip of your tongue. Eren’s verdant eyes are electrifying, eyebrows drawn together in a mixture of annoyance and pleasure.

“Don’t tell me what to do. I’m doing this for the both of us, so you should learn to be more grateful.”

He continues to fuck into you, his length hitting every spot that makes you feel like you’re slowly ascending to heaven, his pelvis slapping against your clit. His eyes never leave you. He doesn’t want to miss a single second of this. He wants to see you fall apart over and over again because of him. He’s convinced that he’s the only one who can make you feel this good. The lewd sounds of your arousal resonate throughout your shared bedroom. You’re trapped under the heat of Eren’s body. It feels like you’re being consumed— every moan, every gasp, every twitch, every thought, it belongs to him. Eren Jaeger’s laid you out on a silver platter with every intention devouring you whole.

He gives you a fleeting kiss, before lifting your legs and placing them over the expanse of his broad shoulders. The new position somehow causes him to go even deeper. You wince as you feel his member brush against your cervix.

“You’re mine, you got that?” 

All you can do is nod.

He thumbs your clit, expertly rubbing circles in time with his thrusts. The added pressure against your already abused nub has your orbs rolling back into your head, mouth agape as you struggle to form any coherent thought or phrase that could accurately illustrate just how completely fucked out you felt.

“You better fucking cum before I do, or else I won’t let you finish,” you both know it’s an empty threat. He’s always put your pleasure above his. He knows your body like the back of his hand, knows just how to kiss you to leave you breathless but wanting more, knows just what filth to utter to have your mind go blank, knows just how to angle his thrusts to hit that spot that has you seeing stars. He’s memorized every single thing about you to a T. 

It’s times like these, with your bruised lips open slightly as you let out those sweet whines that he loves so much, your slick making a mess on Eren’s torso and the sheets, where he thanks whatever celestial forces there are that granted him this sweet sense of nirvana. He thinks you look utterly perfect, and it’s all because you let him ruin you and piece you back together, again and again. He feels his heart swell just in time with the way your gummy walls clench around him, your arousal dripping down your ass and soiling the sheets, signaling your orgasm.

“God, I love you so much,” he breathes.

You’re too far gone at this point to even respond, babbling nonsensically. That won’t do for Eren. 

“And you love me. Say it,” he snarls, viridian eyes frantically searching yours for confirmation. You nod, mind hazy and tears blurring your vision.

“I love you, Eren,” you manage to say through gasps.

Just that simple phrase is enough to do him in. Those four words hold such a weight that he finds himself climbing to his release rapidly with no promise of respite.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, that’s it. Take it, fucking take my cum,” he punctuates each word with a rough thrust. Your hands fly to his pelvis in one last attempt to have him cum anywhere but inside you, but Eren’s just too strong. He throws his head back, groaning out a string of profanities as he plateaus. He paints your walls white with a copious amount of hot, thick cum. He rides out the last of his orgasm before stilling his hips against yours.

He pulls out carefully, slowly in order to ensure his efforts don’t go to waste. You can feel your lover’s warm seed threaten to spill out of you, muscle still clenching from the aftershocks of your climax.

Eren slaps one large hand over your abused heat, plunging two of his digits inside your sensitive hole before striking you a stern look. “Don’t waste it, princess. We’ll have to start all over again.”

You both knew it was just another empty threat. He’d do it again even if you were good and listened to him. Because once Eren’s decided on something, he’ll make sure it happens.

Work belongs to @ryukatters. Please do not repost or share on Tiktok.

#i wrote this during demon time right after i watched that tiktok #tw.dubcon #tw.dub con #tw.noncon #tw.non con #tw.obsession #tw.toxicity #tw.baby trapping #cw.dark content #tw.dark content #tw.degradation #tw.overstimulation #tw.pregnancy #eren x reader #eren x y/n #eren x you #eren jaeger x reader #eren smut #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger smut #aot x reader #aot smut #tw.choking #kat’s writing

[prettyboykatsuki]

please PLEASE write more abt bully bkg!!! what happened next?? what did kiri do omg

tw ;; mild toxicity, bully!bkg, kirishima being a shit, fem!reader 18+, spanking, oral (f!recieving), bkg accidentally worships your pussy instead of punishing you :/, unprotected sex, praise kink 

PT. 1

a/n ;; have i mentioned he makes me absolutely out of my mind yet? have i said that?!??#?$# 

i think we’ve established about the two of them enough by now so here’s how i picture it. 

like i said before - bkg is a campus athlete, popular and well-rounded and all around has that like image to him and so when he essentially confesses to you after fucking you stupid in the library, that’s basically him making you his girlfriend. you don’t know that for a long time but we’ll get there later. 

anwyays.. right after he fucks you nice n full of his cum, he slides your panties and shorts right back on and snickers as he watches you struggle to get to your feet before eventually helping you. he keeps your bra as a punishment and makes you keep his hoodie, almost biting you when you try and take kirishimas to return it to him. he’ll do it himself, don’t test him. 

when you’re all dressed - he makes you pack up and ends up walking you to your dorm room in the middle of the night (which you beg him to not do) but he’ll be fucking damned if anything bad happens to you. it’s his version of affectionate but you don’t know that yet so you’re mostly awkwardly trying to dodge him on the way back BUT he’s still bkg so when he notices that he yanks you. 

he makes you hold his arm and licks your cheek cause he’s such a fucking dick. hits you with a “get used to it, princess” with the most condescending tone. but he’s being so serious. you just think he’s teasing you but he’s not.. he means it. get used to him, basically because now he’s a constant presence in your life. 

he drops you off in front of your dorm and you’re about to wave him off but before you can go he grabs your waist and basically dips you for a kiss. and it’s so good - fuck, you wish you could say you hated it. but bakugou is experienced as much as he’s mean so he kisses you like his life depends on it, his fingers digging into your sides and his tongue in your mouth. you almost forget your in public until he pulls you back up 

he gives you a little breathless grin, patting your cheek with his hand and telling you “get cleaned up, dumbass” which is his way of telling you to get home safe. 

and you do get to your empty dorm. you take a shower and just kinda reflect on the actualy fuck transpired cause you were pretty positive he wanted you in a casket but?!?!?! you fucked him and he kissed you? so ???? 

youre in the middle of your exams and you’re honestly tired since you got fucked within in an inch of your life so you shower and just.. go to sleep. in his hoodie cause it smells good and it’s big and comfy and you’re like... thinking about it really hard but it just makes your headache. 

you conclude after a lot of tossing and turning that he’s probably still just trying to fuck around with you and maybe thinks you’re an easy lay.  you can’t say you aren’t since you were willing and ready for him (the thought of how easily you gave in has you flustered) 

you sleep, eventually. and you wake up the next morning not really expecting much. you don’t have bkgs number or anything so you just.. continue with your day as is. unlucky for you - you have classes with bakugou and kirishima 

but you don’t think it’ll be all that different. still so non-chalant. and you go to class that day dressed normally - with bakugous hoodie in hand. 

you sit in your regular seat that day and this is your first mistake. 

kirishima is in class before bakugou is. and he is.. as always, a little shit. so he pulls up right beside you because even though bkg is pissed at kiri - they are besties so he tells him everything. kirishima wont tease you abt it and u still think kirishima is quite nice and handsome so you’re pleased to greet him. 

ah.. another mistake on your behalf. this action WILL have consequences. 

kirishima gets so cozy with you btw. he loves that you’re so comfy w him - strokes his ego so good. and he chats you up for a better part of the hour before your morning class. 

he makes jokes and smiles and laughs and thinks about how easy it would be snatch you from bakugou and keep you to himself. he’s not good enough of a person to leave you alone. 

aaah kirishima is a sweetheart and he treats you well. so when you feel his hand on your thigh underneath the table - rubbing little circles into your knee, you don’t even notice. and when he gets super close to you to hear you talk - telling you your voice is too soft even tho a class is empty, you let him. 

and when you point out that ppl keep staring and whispering you, he tells you to ignore them and you do. you ignore the whispers and even the click of camera. 

it’s only when you hear bakugou that you get a strange feeling in your gut. he stomps into the classroom - vicious. his schedule is so busy he normally doesn’t get to lounge around before class making sure to keep everything tight 

but he got..  many messages about how you and kirishima were seating today. mostly from kami who likes to cause problems - he decided he should get there a lil early 

well.. lo and behold he does - and he finds you and kirishima looking incredibly cozy with each other. and kirishima being.. kirishima - is the first to see him and he shoots his beloved friend the most smug fuckin smile. 

bkg is pissed, naturally and stomps his way over to the two of you. he’s doing the thing again where he’s icy mad. he doesn’t even bother w kirishima and there’s a whole crowd around the three of you. 

“get your shit,” he demands, clearly seething. you give him a wild look, noticing the now obvious tension before being completely confused.  you’re about to protest w him but he sends you a spine-chillingly glare. 

your whole class watches as he yanks you by the wrist out of the classroom as kirishima sits back and gives u a little wave. ur lost. obviously. and once you leave the classroom ur like “where are we going?” 

the answer is to bakugous very nice car - a custom c3 corvette. he opens the door and stares you, grabbing your bags and taking them to the trunk. but u stand ur ground, cross your arms over your chest like 

“what are we doing out here?” 

bkg doesn’t hesitate in pushing you up against his car, his hands on your waist and his teeth nipping at your neck - sore from old bruises. and you gasp when you feel his fingers dig into your hips, all tongue and teeth. 

“the fuck did i say about you cozyin’ up t’ that shitty haired bastard yesterday,” 

this makes you swallow because bakugous mouth is travelling further and further and his hands are getting more bold. and you shiver, something hot and heavy in your core cause fuck he’s so possesive over you. it makes you dizzy, something sticky and warm in you. 

“i.. i d-didn’t think you were being s..serious yesteryday” 

he growls a little against your throat. 

“guess i’ll have to teach you another lesson. im gonna get in the car and then you are. easy enough, nerd?” 

you can’t do anything but nod and watch him open the car doors. when he gets in you follow and within the blink of an he manuevers you till your over his lap. you let out a loud yelp as his strong hands come down on your ass. still clothed. 

you let out a soft yelp - a noise of surprise at the sudden sensation and you feel bkg bend down to speak in your ear. 

“wanna act like a fuckin’ brat and flirt with your boyfriends friends? fine. i’ll fuck that shitty ass attitude right out of you,” 

the firs thing you think is “boyfriend?!” but your voice gets muffled when you feel bakugou pull down your bottoms along with your panties. his hands are so strong and so big - long thick fingers covered in callouses from playing so many games. you can’t help but squirm under his touch, a growing wetness making your stomach clench. 

he’s so so mean about it yk? a big strong hand smacking against your ass hard enough to leave a handprint. he chuckles when you whine, when your body shivers - bare cunt expose to him and nothing else. a wave of humilation floods through you. 

“‘s not my fault you’re like this y’know? all you gotta do is follow instructions - i know you now how to fucking do that, right? always bein’ so prissy,” ― bakugou tsks, smacking your ass hard before spreading your cheeks out. he admires the way your cunt trembles with mean laugh ― “but you wanna go flirt with shitty hair that much, huh?” 

you’re gonna protest and tell him it’s not even like that.. which makes you question why’re so eager to go with his demands. but the words get lost as the sound of spanks slowly drift and it’s just bakugou admiring your ass. he didn’t really get a good chance too when he was fucking you yesterday but now he’s got eagles on you n your pretty little cunt. 

“never gonna let anyone touch your pretty little pussy but fuckin’ me,” ― and he groans, sliding his fingers through your folds ― “fuck.. fuck” 

you’re not expecting much but within another few seconds you’ve got your cheek pressed to the glass window, ass up and body folded with your cunt directly in bkgs face. you’re not rlly sure why this was happening because you were sure you were getting punished. and maybe the humilation of having your face pressed to glass is enough 

but it doesn’t negate the fact bkg is tongue deep in your cunt. both hands massaging your ass - spreading your lips apart so he can get into fucking deeper. sliding his tongue against your folds and slurping on your clit until you’re jolting with pleasure like you’ve never known before in your life. you’re moaning so loud the whole campus could probably fucking hear but bkg doesn’t care and doesn’t stop 

and your thighs give out, he goes from eat it from the back to getting underneath you and has you sitting on his face. you just keep cumming and bakugou is rock fucking hard - but he doesn’t even bother jerking himself off. he spends all of his time n effort worshipping your sweet cunt  

you cum on his face so many times you’re completely limp by the time he sticks his dick in you. but it feels so good when he does that too - oversenstive walls stretched out his big cock, a hand on your sides as he shifts you into missionary. 

he doesn’t even intend to make you cum again but the position has him so deep in your cervix that you do and he’s so close. and when bkgs close, he’s fucking obscene. 

but it’s not all that vulgar like you’re expecting and that makes you fucking whine. hearing bakugou praise you and your pussy does something terrible to your brain and in your fucked out haze - arms around his shoulders, you’re fucking whimpering. 

and bkgs just in your ear like 

“such a sweet fuckin’ girl for me, taking my dick so damn good, haah fuck. all mind. know how to behave when i fuck you like this don’t you? be a good girl and take it all.. there you go, just like that,” 

when he cums inside of you he stays there for a while and stares at your completely gone expression. it’s unusually soft and you wont see it often but he grabs your face and kisses you hard 

“you’re my girlfriend now you fuckin’ dweeb so start fuckin’ acting like it yeah?” 

you whine and nod, unable to refuse even if u want too 

“yeah..yeah” 

#bully!bkg #prettyboy.thirsts #bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #return to sender #this is not proof read at all im losing my mind. #dubcon cw #toxic cw

[nahoyagf]

motivation 

charcters: mikey x reader x draken | aged up + afab reader

format: fic

warnings: NSFW, threesome, vv slight dub-con, double penetration, belly bulging, manipulation 

other notes: inspired partially by motivation by kelly rowland 

“pfft! really?” mikey laughed, voice filled with mockery and malice, “he’s never made you come?”

you don’t know how you ended up here. all you had wanted to do was come home after a long date with your boyfriend and then relax with your two roommates. mikey had pushed you into telling him what happened on this “date” after he saw the hickies running up your thighs.

though, as usual, his voice was teasing and full of laughter, mikey was actually pissed. both him and draken had a certain distaste for your boyfriend that you could never explain. first it was that he wasn’t seeing you enough and then it was that he was seeing you too much, they’re reasoning constantly flip flopped and after a while, you just didn’t ask why anymore. 

that brings us to now, as mikey and draken taunt you for picking such a shitty boyfriend. in reality, he’s a very good guy and keeps you out of trouble unlike your two roommates. but it is true that he is terrible at sex. it’s just not his forte. which you’ve told yourself, lied to yourself, is fine and that you aren’t only with him for that.

you’re too caught up in your own thoughts to realize that mikeys pushing you down more into draken’s bed, laying you down. draken, who was previously laying back on his phone, rolls over and hovers over you. both mikey and draken are staring down at you in this very compromising position. and you feel yourself burn with embarrassment.

“c’mon mikey, i’m done with this conversation now. let me get up.”

“no,” mikey whined, voice still underlying a darker tone,”tell us more, y/n. pleaseeeeeee. is his dick small too?”

you’re face lit up red and embarrassed. the way they were teasing almost made it seem as though it was your fault for getting such a disappointing boyfriend.

“tch, it must be, huh?” this time his voice was quieter but a little deeper too. he looked at you with faux sympathy but you took it in a comforting way, happy that they were no longer putting the blame on you.

draken stared down at you with an anger in his eyes that made you shudder. you weren’t understanding how this once carefree and joking conversation turned serious.

“this is the guy you left us for?” draken’s tone dripping with disgust.

“what...what are you talking about?” you were beyond confused now, “leave you?”

“yeah,” mikey joined in, “left us. for this guy. that hurts, y/n, that really hurts.”

you stared at them. totally lost, but in a way you felt bad. you had been spending a lot more time with your boyfriend, you assumed your childhood friends weren’t used to the lack of your attention.

“i’m sorry, guys.”

“ tch,” mikey looked away with a slight pout and pretended to stare at the wall while thinking. in reality, he had come up with this plan for a while. finally getting draken on board only a few hours ago.

“what about this? if we fuck you better than your boyfriend, than you stay with us.” he said, matter of factly.

“but.. but... but... that’s cheating mikey i-“

“he’s been cheating you out of orgasms for a while.” he hummed, moving his head to suck along your neck. purposely covering the marks your boyfriend left.

“c’mon baby,” draken’s raspy voice sent heat through your body, made even worse when he began working on your neck too.

“we’ll make it fair by fucking you one at a time,” mikey cheerfully added, “at first.”

you couldn’t do anything but nod. desire in your bloodstream and too stuck to even think about disagreeing. just don’t think about your boyfriend, you told yourself.

draken sat back on his knees and undid his braid. the two looked like twins. long, blonde hair flowing down to their shoulders and deep, dark eyes filled with lust.

mikey decided he would take his turn first. it was his plan after all.

his fingers made quick work of your sundress and he started rubbing his fingers up and down your skin. feeling the softness of your body and the smooth, taut skin of places like your shoulders.

his hands pulled down your panties, admiring the cute pastel purple fabric that was topped with a white bow. you snapped your head away and covered your face with your hands. that wouldn’t do for when he’s fucking you, but mikey felt merciful enough to let it fly for now.

his hands made way to your bra and before he could snap the clip, you grasped his hands.

“please, just leave that” your voice was so soft and pleading, wanting to keep the one last piece of a boundary. mikey abliged, but only because of your voice.

his dipped his fingers into your cunt, pushing in to find that you’re wet. very wet. he smirks your way and draken’s eyes widen. he assumed that you’d be a good girl and stop yourself from giving in for the sake of your boyfriend. of course, you wanted to but you just couldn’t help it. or so you told yourself.

“you like this, baby?” mikey’s voice was much gruffer than you’ve ever heard before. you could only nod, but the sight made his heart swell, along with his cock.

he stuck his head down, face close enough that you could feel his breath against your dripping cunt. your boyfriend had never gone down on you before. his nose immediately hit your clit which caused you to whimper, and his eyes lit up. he pushed his two fingers all the way in, they were long and fairly thick. combined, they were about the same length and thickness of your boyfriend’s cock. a recognition that filled you with embarrassment.

mikey began making work of you, fingers going at a steady pace but making sure to curl and bend. tongue lapping your juices while his nose bumped and rubbed your clit. it was enough stimulation that you came, quickly and with a series of whimpers and moans that had draken palming his dick.

you were so dazed, you didn’t realize the sound of a zipper and then fabric rustling. mikey still had his baggy pants on but they were pushed down enough to expose his dick. it was long, curved slightly and dripping with precum. you had to admit, though with shame, that is was longer than your boyfriend’s.

he pushed your legs apart and the slight touch of his tip against your clit had you jolting. you were sensitive, and mikey couldn’t help the smirk of joy that came from that.

“mikey,” your voice was a quiet whine, filled with strain, “i’m sore.”

this time, draken leaned over to run his hands up and down your body. pressing kisses on you while rubbing little circles.

“don’t worry, sweetheart. i’ll make you comfortable.” he rasped, eyes meeting yours.

mikey nodded and snickered at his friends softness. gentle giant, i guess you could say.

he pushed the tip it and your eyes widened. as he made his way through, you couldn’t help the sounds that left your mouth. soon to be swallowed by draken’s. mikey finally bottomed out and let out a quiet moan. his hips began making slow and shallow thrusts as he adjusted to the squeeze.

“you’re so,” he panted out, “fucking tight. feels so fuckin’ good, baby.”

he began getting faster, longer strokes with more power. your body shook and draken cooed into your ear. mikey let out whimpers and groans. he couldn’t help it, he had dreamed about this for days. you felt the curved shape of his cock hit the spongy spot deep inside of you and your threw your head back.

“mikey!”

“fuck fuck fuck. baby don’t squeeze like that.”

you couldn’t help the tears that formed near your waterline. cries leaving you. he pushed in harder and faster and the constant rubbing against your g-spot made you come, hard. harder than ever. the intense squeeze had mikey letting out a long whimper and spilling into you. slowly pulling out as you gasped for air.

you were still recovering. eyes low lidded and staring as mikey laid back and watched his cum drip out of you while draken made quick work of his shirt and pulled down his pants. your eyes couldn’t help but widen at the sight of his cock. long, very very long and thicker than you ever thought was possible. your mind joked that he should’ve gotten a horse tattoo instead.

“you ready, princess?”

“it’s not gonna fit,” you said, voice filled with fear.

he chuckled at this and pressed kisses along your neck. his laugh was the most angelic thing you’ve ever heard.

“don’t worry, baby, i’ll make it fit.”

and as promised, he started to make it fit. the stretch burned so much that you started to cry and immediately he paused. wiping your tears. mikey stared at you before making his way behind you, scooching your body until you were halfway on his lap. head resting on his stomach while he held you tight. it was comforting.

draken continued in and groaned about the squeeze. he would’ve asked you to loosen up a little but he didn’t want to put too much pressure on your exhausted state. finally, he bottomed out. filling you in a way that you’d never felt before.

“drakennnnn” you could only moan out his name, and he bent over to kiss your lips.

he moved at a slow pace, pulling your legs over his shoulders and occasionally leaning down to capture your lips. the friction against your g-spot had you cumming lord knows how many times and draken could only continue to push on and on. mikey, was growing antsy. worried that you wouldn’t be able to handle another round.

he threw a telling look at draken and the taller man looked down at you, observing you with concern before sighing and nodding. mikey prodded your body until you sat on his lap, draken still inside of you.

“mikey?” your voice was airy and dazed, “what are you doing?”

he just kissed your jaw before starting to push inside of you as well. you gasped at the penetration. feeling the two of them in you. mikey groaned and whined. almost not making it long enough to fully push in.

“oh fuuuck baby.” he moaned out, blush covering his face and slight drool slipping through his mouth as he came the second he was sheathed in completely. despite being somewhat of a quick shot, mikey had stamina and began fucking his cum up into you.

draken started to move too and the pair found a synchronized slow but deep pace. you looked completely out of it. barely able to keep to your eyes open. you felt so full, you imagined this is what expectant mothers must feel like.

draken leaned down and kissed your lips while mikey left hickeys on your neck. you weren’t sure when your bra had come off but mikey was squeezing your breasts with needy hands. draken stared at your disheveled form and then began to push his large hand against the bulge in your belly. making you cry out.

“see that baby, that’s us. hm? put your hand here, baby, put your hand here.” you had no choice as he dragged your hand to the bulge and pushed harder this time. making both you and mikey cry out.

“oh baby, i don’t think i- ... i don’t think i can hold it in anymore,” mikey cried out and you agreed as you moaned. the two of you came almost at the same time and the squeeze mixed with the filling of mikeys hot cum had draken cumming too. he let out a low raspy groan and kissed your swollen lips.

you finally felt them pull out and slump next to you. your belly felt so hot and full and in the back of the mind, you swore that there was no way you wouldn’t be pregnant now. mikey cuddled up next to you and draken wrapped his large arms around you.

“so.. did we do better?” mikey asked, it was quiet and muffled against your skin. you could only mutter an ‘mhmm’ and drift off into a deep sleep. you’d have to break the news to your boyfriend in the morning.

#mikey x reader #manjiro x reader #manjiro sano #draken x reader #ken ryuguji x reader #ken ryuuguji #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #draken smut #mikey smut

[visionofhope04]

Hii I was lowkey wondering if you would do something maybe like a one shot of neglected where reader is older (18-20) and dipped out of the house and became a singer and one of her songs basically exposed them for how they treated reader and in like an interview she full on tells them how she doesn’t even talk to them and like only Jason

This is literally perfect. I love this idea! I was planning on making a singer batsis reader anyway so here you go! I'll be making this part 4 of the series instead of a one shot. There’s a bit of angst. Btw, thanks so much for your support everyone! I'm glad you enjoy this series! Feel free to request anything you'd like besides smut as well!

This is the longest thing I have ever written so there will be a part 5. I planned on this being the last part but it's just so much. It’s not proofread and neither are all of the other parts because I post at 1 am most of the time lol. Hope you like it!

f/n = friend name

Y/G/N = your group name

N/S = news station

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 (Current) Part 5

---

You were sick of it. Sick of how even after confronting them about how you felt and almost dying because of it, they still neglected you. You couldn't wait to move out at the age of 18, even if it proved to be a struggle. You had taken mini jobs since you turned 15 and saved up since then. You just couldn't see them anymore as it would remind you of how they treated you that day at that hospital. None of them apologized either. They just pretended it never happened and continued to ignore you. The media had a field day with speculation of what had happened but eventually stopped because Bruce had claimed it was “just a bad case of the flu” which they believed.

Jason was always the only one that would talk to you. He was the only one that actually cared enough to make sure you were taking proper care of yourself and that you wouldn't have a repeat of what happened. He took you places, spent time with you and gave you advice. You even had a tradition where you'd always meet up at the manor's library every week at the same time that same day every week and just have a mini book club together. He always made time for you and never bailed on you.

So on your 18th birthday, he helped you move out. You managed to rent a small apartment in Star City with the money you had saved up. It wasn’t that close to the manor which was a good thing. The neighborhood wasn’t good but it wasn’t as bad as Gotham’s neighborhoods so you would be fine. You could handle yourself with your assassin training if needed. You also managed to get hired at a cafe which was about a five minutes walking distance from your apartment.

It had taken a while but eventually, you had packed all of your belongings into color coded containers and moved them into Jason’s car with his help. You didn’t say goodbye to anyone as you had no friends to say bye to and you knew that your so called “family” couldn’t care less about what you did with your life. ‘This is it, hopefully the last time I’ll ever be near this place.’ You thought. You didn’t plan on stepping foot in Gotham ever again after you left. It would bring back too many memories you prefer to keep buried away deep inside your mind.

The car ride to Star City was entertaining. You and Jason conversed the whole time, telling jokes and listening to his funny tales with the radio playing softly in the background. Eventually, a song you both loved came on and you both started yell-singing along to the lyrics. You wished those moments could be permanent. You were both so carefree and nothing else mattered besides having fun and enjoying yourselves.

You now stood in the doorway of your new apartment, admiring your new home. Jason and yourself had just finished unpacking all of your belongings. You really liked how it looked and thought you both did an amazing job at designing the place perfectly according to your style. Jason, unfortunately, had to leave in order to avoid raising suspicions. Once you both said your byes, he left you to your apartment.

Jason drove back home in silence. He hated to admit it but he would miss you dearly. You were always there for him and helped him with anything. You tried your best to always comfort him and make him feel better on his darkest days and it would always work. Somehow you seemed to always have the right words to say or knew exactly what to do to help him. Out of everyone he was closest to you. He assumed it was because he could relate to you the most. More so how you felt. He’d felt like the black sheep of the family before you came, and he was. When you came, you took that role from him. It pained him to see how much their insults would affect you, even if you were good at hiding it. He could just tell.

Jason made it back to the manor after a while and went straight to the library. He didn't want to deal with the others. After the whole hospital situation, he'd never really bother interacting with them. He hated how they treated you as if you didn’t exist and hated how much pain they had caused you and that they didn’t even care. He guessed that they'd probably be doing something for Damian's birthday and forgot that you were his twin. They probably couldn’t even remember that Damian had a twin.

He made it to the library and pulled out one of his favorite books. He’d read it so many times you’d often joke that he could probably recite the whole book by heart at this point. Sitting down in a chair, he started to read. However, he couldn’t bring himself to stop thinking about what it would’ve been like if they treated you how they did Damian. The both of you were Bruce’s real children. You both even looked like clones of him! At first, Jason thought you would’ve been the favorite twin due to your personality. Even though you were twins, your personalities were polar opposites. You even refused to kill! You were trained by the League so why didn’t you kill as Damian did?

Jason knew you would benefit them greatly if you joined. You had self control, didn’t kill, could act perfectly, lie perfectly, do well under pressure, and not to mention your skills. Being raised by the League may have been torture, but you managed to gain incredible skills out of it. You could take on at least ten guys who doubled you in size and beat them within five minutes. You even bested Damian in spars and he was supposedly dubbed the “better twin” by Talia, so why hadn’t they let you join their nightly crusades like they had let Damian when the both of you first arrived?

Damian passed by your room but noticed something was off. He decided to take a look. He twisted the doorknob and pushed. The room which was once occupied by you now looked extremely plain and bare, stripped of all of its accessories. The only things left were the bed itself, multiple dressers, and a vanity. It looked as if it had been vacant the whole time. It might as well have been. Damian couldn’t really remember what it had looked like since he’s never paid much mind to it but he could tell there was a drastic difference. He knew that you disliked just leaving your room plain unlike himself and wanted at least something to make it look less boring.

He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Had you finally been kicked out by Bruce? Did you get shipped off to a boarding school like he had been suggesting to your father for years? He decided to go ask. He exited the room and closed the door behind him, taking off for Bruce’s office. Walking down the hall, he suddenly remembered that he had seen you leave with Jason. This meant that you were not at a boarding school like he had originally thought. But then why was your room vacant?

Instead of going to see Bruce, he decided to go see Jason and bring up the matter with him instead. He changed directions and headed to the library where he knew he’d find Jason. It was no secret that Jason was a book worm so Damian had a fifty percent chance of finding him there.

He entered the library and was immediately greeted with the sight of Jason sitting comfortably on a chair, legs crossed with a book opened in his hands. Jason didn’t bother to look up from his book as he spoke.

“What do you want Demon Spawn?”

“I’ve come to obtain the whereabouts of my sister.”

“You mean my sister?”

“She’s not your sister!” Damian exclaimed.

“Well I act more like a brother than you do.”

“Where is Y/N? Her whole room is bare.”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“Just tell me, you imbecile!” Damian said, growing increasingly frustrated by Jason’s blunt answers.

“She’s not here.”

“Then where is she?”

“Not here.”

“Just tell me already Todd, I have no time for your foolish games!”

“She moved out.” Jason said, giving in.

“What?! Where.” Damian demanded.

“Why would I tell you?”

“Because I demand to know!”

“Okay and?”

“Tell me!”

“No.”

“Why not!”

“Because you don’t even care.”

“And you do?”

“Yes, I actually do Damian! I’m there for her when she needs me the most. I’m there for her while she’s watching you live the perfect life that she’s just a background character in! While you and the others ignore that she even exists! I’m there for her when she breaks down and has panic attacks! And what were you all doing to try and help her? Nothing! Absolutely nothing!” Jason snapped.

“Y/N’s fine, I know my twin!” Damian screamed.

“Do you even know what her favorite color is?” Jason questioned in a harsh tone.

“...” Was Damian’s reply.

“Exactly! You don’t! You and the others have never cared about her, so why all of a sudden do you care now? You don’t know anything about her so don’t act like you do!” Jason then stood up and walked out of the room in a fit of rage.

Damian stood there, shocked. Had Jason just refused to answer his question? He was about to follow him but decided against it. Why was Damian going to chase Jason down just for her? She was just an annoyance, a mistake, imperfect. He had been wanting to get rid of her for so long, so why doesn’t he feel relieved? Why does he feel guilty? He decided to stop dwelling on it and get on with life. He figured it would happen eventually if it hadn’t happened then.

---

It had been a year since that day. The day you left your old life behind and started a new life, a better one. One where you weren’t constantly ignored. One where you actually had more than one person care about you. Instead of seeing yourself as a failure and disappointment, you now saw yourself as an amazing person (which you always were). You had been going to a community college in Star City. You made many friends there and started up a music career with three of them.

Their names were f/n, f/n and f/n. You all started off by taking random gigs anywhere you could. You performed covers of songs and would receive standing ovations all the time. Seeing as your group was well liked, you decided to write and produce your own songs. At the age of 19, Y/G/N released their first album. It went viral within a day and everyone was talking about it. After a week, several articles were posted, praising your work. News Stations talked about all the records Y/G/N managed to break. People started to stream it like crazy, and you couldn’t be happier with all the positive feedback you were receiving.

You had been a Wayne once, meaning you had experience in dealing with the media. Since you had already been used to it, you knew you’d all eventually be invited to interviews. So, when you had received an email stating how N/S wanted a one on one interview with you, you weren’t sure how to feel. You weren’t looking forward to interviews with your whole group, let alone one where you would be alone. You knew how unfiltered interviewers could be and didn’t feel comfortable with it.

However, you decided it would be best to go. So here you were, sitting in front of the interviewer in an uncomfortable chair preparing for the interview to start. You had somehow managed to keep a smile plastered on your face the entire time while you were a nervous wreck on the inside. You hoped none of the questions would be sexist as they usually were towards women. However, you had no more time to think about that. You heard clicking, signaling that you were about to go live. Once you heard the last click, you knew you were live and the interview had begun.

“Hello everyone, welcome back to N/S. My name is Jerald Tangleberry and I’m here today with songwriter, singer, and celebrity, Y/N Wayne! How are you?”

You waved to the camera and then answered, “Hello everyone! I’m doing good, how about you?”

“I’m doing great, thanks for asking! So by now I’d assume everyone knows that you’ve released an album with your group. How does it feel to gain more fame?”

“It doesn’t feel any different. Fame wasn’t our goal when we released the album. It was to express ourselves.”

“Mhm, well Ms. Wayne, what inspired you to write songs?”

“Well we know people may be in a tough spot in their life right now and want them to know they aren’t alone.”

“That’s so true. Some fans have been speculating that every member has three songs that specifically relate to them since there are twelve songs in total and three of the songs have the same group member as the introduction part of the song. Is this true?”

“Yes, it is true.”

“So all three of your songs relate to family issues of some sort. Is that hinting that you have family issues?”

“Yes, actually. My family isn’t the best. They ignored me all the time, even when they weren't busy. The only person who didn’t was Jason.”

“You’re saying it in the past tense.”

“I moved out about a year ago. When I was around 14, I suffered from anorexia. My family would always ignore me since they were either busy doing work or hanging out with each other. The only family member that acknowledged me was Jason. I assumed it was because there was something wrong with me. I started to hate myself so much to the point of starvation. One day, I passed out right before a gala and my oldest brother Dick found me passed out on the floor. They took me to the hospital and when I woke up, Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian started fussing about how I’d ruin their image if the media knew what actually happened. They started to yell at me and told me how I was a useless burden. I started to have a panic attack so I kicked them out. Jason stayed behind with me and comforted me. Ever since then I made a planed to save enough money so I could move out when I turned 18, which I did.”

“Oh, wow. So Jason was the only one who interacted with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Looks like the Wayne family isn’t as perfect as they seem.”

“No family is actually perfect.”

“Did your family try contacting you at all after they found out about Y/G/N?”

“Not yet. They’re probably too busy or don’t care.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright, I got over it. What’s the next question.”

“Oh-” He cleared his throat and continued the interview. (So basically I don’t wanna bore you all lol)

---

Jason had woken up late into the afternoon that day. Patrol that morning had exhausted him. There was a huge breakout at Arkham they had assisted with. They successfully locked up every escapee, so today, Jason just wanted to relax until it would be time for patrol again. Even though he was exhausted, he knew he couldn’t take a break. The others wouldn’t and it would be unfair to them if he did.

He headed over to his couch with his phone and a bowl of popcorn in hand, ready to watch random movies the entirety of the day. He set down his phone on the coffee tables and grabbed the TV remote. When he turned on the TV, he almost dropped the popcorn and remote. You were sitting on a chair, giving an award winning smile while you politely answered the man’s questions. He was baffled. He didn’t know why you were being interviewed, let alone on TV at all! You made it clear you didn’t want to have any relations with your family any longer and you couldn’t stand publicity, so what were you doing?

He placed the bowl down and snatched his phone off the table. Unlocking his phone, he quickly dialed your phone number. However, he realized that the interview was live and that he would be interrupting it if he called you then. Deciding to wait, he placed his phone back down, picked up the bowl, and then got comfortable.

---

Tag list: @fake-id-69 @pepelachanel @loxbbg @what-0-life @yoongi-holland @omnivorousfangirl @cawcaw-pretty-thing @sexysamsungl @iceddonuts @buginetye @portrait-ninja @azazel-nyx @alculai

#batfam #batfamily #batsis #batfam x batsis #batfam x reader #batfam x neglected!batsis!reader #batman #brucewayne #nightwing #dickgrayson #redhood #batfamxbatsis #batfamxreader #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #red hood #redrobin #red robin #robin #damian wayne x batsis #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x batsis!reader #tim drake x batsis #tim drake x reader #tim drake x batsis!reader #jason todd x batsis #jason todd x reader

[songbirdstyles]

screw my brain (’till it hurts)

summary: you and harry are spies on an assignment to pretend to be a married couple in order to take down a drug trafficking ring. the only problem? you two can’t stand each other.

warnings: smut (18+), hate sex, knifeplay, breathplay (choking), slapping, fingering, phone sex (sort of); enemies to lovers, one bed, fake dating 

song inspo.: death on two legs (dedicated to ...) - queen / back chat - queen / you’re so vain - carly simon

word count: 19.5k 

You can practically feel Harry’s anger simmering beside you, and you’re tired of it.

He’s been acting like a child since you got on the plane, his eyes narrowed and venomous and steam practically blowing out of his ears as though he’s on the verge of throwing a temper tantrum, and you’re sure if looks could kill you’d be dead a million times over again from all the staredowns he’d been trying to initiate. And you’re used to this, for the most part, but it doesn’t make you feel any less annoyed as he huffs beside you, flicking through the file on his lap.

And - look. You don’t like Harry. You can hardly even tolerate him, most of the time, and the only times you manage to be near him without gagging is when you’re on missions. Usually he’s the same way, pushing aside the mutual disdain you’ve shared from day fucking one when there’s goals to be accomplished and targets to take down but he’s just sitting here like an angry log, thumbing noisily through papers as you swipe through your phone.

He’s looking for attention, Mark would tell you - your boss is the epitome of coolness, desperate for you and Harry to get along because of his tendency to force you together on missions - and that is true. You’re just as pissed as he is and you aren’t making a show of it. No, he’s an attention seeking crybaby, and you won’t give him what he craves. Won’t even look at him.

The plane dips a bit, then, and your stomach lurches, grabbing at the armrest in between you two where Harry’s elbow rests, and he jerks it into his side as though you’d burned him. You scoff, then, the pretense of faking casualness abandoned as fast as you’d stuck to it, and you can sense him rolling his eyes at the noise.

“For Fuck’s sake,” you huff, leaning to the side so you can stare at him as you roll your eyes pointedly, and he mimics the movement. “What are you so whiny about?”

“M’not whiny,” Harry insists in a tone that’s strikingly similar to the whine he claims he doesn’t have, and you sigh before reaching over, snatching the file off of his lap. “Hey - I was readin’ that!”

“Really?” you inquire, shifting so your back is to the man next to you and he can’t read the words on the page you’re squinting at. “Could’ve fooled me. Thought you were just sitting there huffing and rolling your eyes like a baby.” After a moment where he doesn’t respond, you risk a glance backwards and are met with the back of his head full of curls as he stares out the window at the passing sunset as you whiz through the sky. “What’s got your knickers in a twist, hmm? Did Mark not put enough into the budget for hair gel and dirty shoes?”

“Oh, shut up,” he says in a wildly mature way of response, and you can hardly resist the urge to smirk at it. “F’the record, m’mad that I have t’do another mission with you.”

You nod, trailing your finger along the line of words detailing aspects about the target you know you’ll have to utilize later - he has four cats. He and his wife are on the brink of divorce. He has two daughters, and he doesn’t speak to either of them. His name is Vincent Carfield, and, boy, does he sound like a real catch - you’re so focused on reading about him that you hardly register that Harry’s started speaking again.

“Wish Mark would realize m’good enough to do shit like this on my own. Don’t need you t’come around an’ pretend to be my - my girlfriend. S’stupid.”

“Well, if you were good enough, I would be at home with cucumbers on my eyes right now instead of reading about the leader of a drug trafficking ring -”

“God, you’re a bitch -”

“And you’re an asshole -”

“Fuck you - m’calling Mark.”

You snort, leaning back in your seat as Harry fumbles in his bag at his feet for his tablet, and he shakily sets it up on his lap, tapping through the screen until he gets to the FaceTime app. “Real mature, Har, going to tattle to Mark.”

“God, not everything’s about you, narcissist - half hour out, need a debrief.”

You crane your neck to lean in front of him and look out the window, and - sure enough - you can already tell that you’re getting closer, plane dipping slowly lower and it wouldn’t be perceptible to you if he hadn’t told you. Harry’s always been a tad bit more observant than you, though you wouldn’t confess that to him if your life depended on it.

Mark answers Harry’s call within mere seconds - he’s always on high alert when you guys call, especially when you’re off on missions together - part of you suspects he’s always waiting for a call that one of you killed the other. “Hello, lovebirds,” he chirps, the pure image of relaxation as he adjusts his tie, shifting in his seat - you and Harry both roll your eyes at his nickname for the pair of you. “Surprised to see you haven’t clawed each other’s eyes out.” “Wish I did,” you mutter beneath your breath, and Harry glares at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Anyway,” Mark says, and you know he heard what you said judging from the ghost of a smile on his pale face, but he brushes past it. “When you land, you’ll have around an hour to get settled into the hotel before dinner. I’ve sent you the address to the restaurant - the target is eating there with his wife, most likely to discuss their divorce, so he’ll be feeling vulnerable and insecure -” “And that’s where I come in,” you finish, trailing your nail across the fine printed page which holds the plans the three had deliberated over for two weeks prior - compared to most of your missions it was an extraordinarily short amount of time to plan but none of you could foresee this one going anything other than disgustingly easy. If you pull through, you could be home by the end of the weekend.

“And that’s where you come in,” Mark affirms, thick rimmed glasses mirroring the image of you and Harry that he’s seeing on his screen. “Find any way to touch him - pretend to trip - and plant the audio tracker on his jacket.” You nod, and Harry drops his head against the seat with a soft sigh that nearly makes you turn and throttle him but you hold back, fingers tensing as though itching for a throat to grab. “Then you guys go back to the hotel, hold back from slaughtering each other, and listen in - he’s staying at the room next to yours.”

If this situation were occurring a year ago in your first few weeks of working as a spy perhaps you’d marvel at the seeming coincidence of Mark just happening to get you a hotel room right next to your target - but your one-year anniversary working has just come up and, as it so happens, you know he can make just about anything happen by pulling the right strings. And staying in the same hotel, on the same floor, is the perfect talking point for dinner - you’re already storing it in the back of your mind to bring up in conversation when you manage to get the tracker on his jacket -

“ - and, look, guys, I know you don’t particularly like each other,” Mark is saying when your attention snaps back to him, and Harry snorts. It’s the understatement of the century - you almost want to laugh with him. “It’s just really important that you sell yourselves as a couple. I don’t care what you have to do - share a drink or hold hands - but he needs to see you as a couple. All of his mistresses have been seemingly happily married - he’ll be more inclined to get closer with ____ if he sees you’re in a good relationship. Then, Harry, of course, can explore his hotel room - snuff out anything suspicious.”

You nod but Harry seems less convinced - his brow arches as his arms cross over his chest, and you glance over at him with confusion written over your features. “M’confused,” he says, and you raise your eyebrows. “She’s gonna fu - have an affair wit’ him, then?”

God, we fucking talked about this, you want to shout at him, to shake his shoulders until he’s dizzy. If you paid attention while we planned instead of sitting there whining that you don’t go on missions by yourself because nobody goes on missions by themselves unless they’ve been here for nearly 10 years and you’ve barely scraped three -

Mark is more patient. He just shrugs, fingers tapping away at the keyboard connecting to his screen. “Maybe - maybe not. Depends how vulnerable she can get him without resorting to sexual means.”

“Don’t think I’ll have a problem with that,” you can’t resist saying, popping the ‘p’ in problem as you smugly smirk, scratching your nails against the smooth paper you’d been reading as Harry glares at you, seemingly affronted. “Only had to resort to getting down and dirty with a target once - that asshole mob boss - everyone else is just dying to tell me their juicy little secrets. Guess it’s a perk at being good at what you do, right, Har?”

“Oh, you’re such a -”

“Children, children,” Mark interrupts the beginning of Harry’s speech about what a cunt you are, holding up his age-worn palms with mock exasperation as he stares the two of you down. “Stay civil. I’ve just booked your reservation at this Italian restaurant called Fucina’s - it’s for 7, under Mr. and Mrs. James Robinson. Vincent Carfield and his wife have a reservation for 7:30 but have a tendency to arrive early. They requested seating in a more private area, as did I, so you should be able to hear their conversations -”

The conversation rolls on for another few minutes until the pilot announces that you’re landing in ten, and that’s Mark’s cue to sign off - with a fleeting inquiry about any questions the pair of you may have he’s gone, wishing you good luck and making you promise to call him after dinner once you’ve set up the tracker and begun listening to your mark. You don’t suspect you’ll forget to - you and Harry generally can’t be in an enclosed environment together for too long without having overwhelming desires to take each other out, and Mark balances you out. Eases the two of you, calms you down, even when you’re so angry at Harry you want nothing more than to stamp your feet on the ground and scream.

It’s how you feel now, a bit, as Harry shuts his tablet and shoves it back into his bag with a dramatic huff after Mark has signed off. He’s angry about something again, surely relating to you and the mission and how he constantly feels snubbed by Mark but, truthfully, as the plane dips lower and lower to the Earth, you find that you really, really, don’t care.

 ~~

 The hotel room is, for all intents and purposes, fairly large. It’s nicer than a significant portion of the ones you two inhabit on missions and you should be grateful, toeing off your boots in the entrance of the suite, that it has a functioning kitchen and a bathroom with a door that closes and an L shaped couch facing the television (based on the description of the suite Mark had sent), but your mood has been entirely soured by Harry’s sore attitude during the drive from the airport to the hotel.

He drops his suitcase against the carpeted ground of the entrance, and it slams onto the ground so close to your sock-covered toes that you jump back, glaring at him as he pointedly ignores you and descends further into the hotel room, peeking his curly head into the kitchen and the bathroom. You watch him as you rest your suitcase against the wall, nudging his closer to the wall with your foot before following him, already tugging your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans to check for any new texts from your boss when -

“You’ve got t’be fucking kidding me.”

You arch your eyebrows, tilting your phone into your chest as you turn the corner into the main living area. And it’s nice, eyes wandering over the couch that Mark had told you about, and the TV mounted to the wall with a Roku connected to it that you’re sure you’ll take advantage of later tonight. The carpet is soft beneath your feet even through your socks, and the bed is nicely made, pillows fluffy and looking soft -

Bed.

Shit.

What a bastard, Mark is - booking a room with only one bed? And not even telling you two about it? God, you could kill him. You really could, and you will, as soon as you get back to headquarters and see his stupid bald head in person - you’ll throttle him. Or shoot him. Hell, you’ll even stab him.

“You’re taking the couch,” you tell Harry, and before he can protest you take a running start to leap onto the bed, plopping onto your back and tucking your arms beneath your scalp. “Looks real comfy, doesn’t it? The bed - not the couch. Couch looks like it’ll kill your back.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Harry practically snarls, voice all venom and teeth, and he sits at the edge of the bed anyway, hands going up to loosen at the black tie wrapped tight around his neck. “So entitled - I’ll take the fucking bed. Been here longer than you, y’know - just ‘cause y’like t’act like you’re so good -”

“And yet,” you interrupt, bringing your foot up to kick at his side, and he turns around and glares at you, “I’m the one getting put on assignments with you, even though I’ve hardly been here a year. Oh, yeah, what’s that Mark told us? I was put on duty the quickest than anyone else after finishing my assignments?” You screw up your eyes as though trying to fact check yourself before nodding, smiling at the positively hateful expression on your partner’s face. “Guess I am good.”

He opens his mouth to reply and perhaps he assumes better of it - he simply rolls his eyes, pulling his tie off of his neck and dropping it on the ground beside him. For a moment you simply stare at him as he peels his jacket off, littering it on the floor in a similar fashion as his tie, until he’s merely donning a white button down and his black dress pants, hair messy and face light red. 

Sometimes you do that - you watch him - because it’s nice to see him look so peaceful and silent when you’re used to spewing hatred back and forth. You could even be into him if he kept his mouth taped shut and promised to never make a single noise, but he would never comply with it - and you’re sure you’d find a reason to get pissed off at him if he didn’t speak.

You hadn’t realized how long you’d been staring at him until he turns around, and your gazes lock, and you lift your eyebrows.

“Don’t stare at me,” Harry demands, backing up on the bed until his head rests on the pillow beside you - you turn your head to stare at him, affronted. “Told you - m’taking the bed. An’ m’gonna take a nap f’a half hour- already set the timer on m’phone - so you can either take the couch or sit here right beside me.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, glaring down at the man beside you who closes his eyes (rather smugly, you’ll add) and mimics your own previous position, arms tucked beside his head. “You dickhead.”

“Mhm.”

“I’m not moving.”

“Fine by me.”

“I’m gonna nap too -”

“Go ahead -”

“And I stretch out a lot when I sleep.”

“How ever will I handle it?”

You’ve seem to run out of responses, furrowing your eyebrows as Harry’s face settles into an expression of slight comfort and you wonder if he really has gone to bed, resting in the button down shirt and dress pants that he’s always itching to get out of at the end of the day. You’ve had to watch him undress with absolutely no shame in front of your far too many times for comfort, shoved into small hotel rooms together but at least they had two beds - you can hardly control your heart rate as you stare down at him.

(Because you’re angry, of course. Whenever he’s acting like a dumbass your heartbeat quickens to match the pace of a fucking freight train, and that’s nearly every time you’ve ever had to talk to him.)

After a moment you rest back on the bed beside him, head dangerously close to the center of the two pillows where you can feel Harry’s curls, spread upon his pillows, brushing against the sides of your temples. With every feel of his hair against your skin you feel your anger rising, and you exhale softly, pressing your palms to the top of your stomach as you listen to his steady breathing beside you.

He sounds too peaceful.

You wait nearly ten minutes before beginning your plan of attack, not nearly as meticulously planned as the ones you and Harry will employ later - you slowly begin to spread your legs out, feeling your calf brush against his foot, and your arms follow in a similar pattern. They stretch outwards, forearm thrown across his neck, and you can feel his Adam’s apple bobbing against your skin but he doesn’t take the bait - doesn’t even move a muscle, and you can feel his even breathing against your arm.

For a second you wonder if he really is asleep. You’d be surprised.

It’s uncomfortable sleeping on your back and that’s your justification for rolling over onto your stomach, body halfway on top of Harry’s, chest pressed against his and face buried into the pillow beside him so your nose presses into his hair, softly inhaling the fruity shampoo he uses. Your arm lazily throws itself across his torso, leg nudging his until they fall off the bed, and he grunts.

“What th’fuck are y’doing?” Harry questions gruffly, voice just raspy enough to make you consider the very real possibility that he truly had fallen asleep, and you don’t respond. “Get off me, dumbass - tryin’ t’sleep.”

You remain silent. You work on steadying your breathing, faking sleep in the way that you’ve mastered over the past year (and a half, if you count the six months of training you’d done before beginning work) - on one of your earliest missions you’d pretended to be passed out in the back of a work party you’d seduced your way into with a tape recorder taped to your underboob and you’d been able to get enough recording of a conversation between two sleazy old men to support your hypothesis that their paper company was a front for a sex trafficking ring. You suspect this case should be likely the same, albeit easier and likely without the work party, and you’ll breeze through it like nobody’s business if it requires fake sleeping like you’re doing now.

“I know you’re not sleeping,” he correctly deduces, lifting his arm to slam it against your back entirely too hard and you nibble on your bottom lip to keep from making any type of noise at the slight pain the motion brings. “Get off me. Go t’the couch - stop being so stubborn.”

You mumble something incoherent under your breath, digging your face further into your pillow just to hear the way he hisses as you (un)intentionally tug at his hair. You feel his hands dig into your sides and before you can pull off of him he pushes you away with as much force as he can muster, and you’re send tossed to the other end of the bed, grappling at the duvet to stop yourself from slipping over the edge of the bed onto the carpet.

“Fuck,” you hiss, pushing yourself to sit out with your legs stuck straight out in front of you. With a glare directed towards the man opposite you you pull your legs back and push them towards him sharply, kicking him directly in his thigh, and his legs tumble off the bed, forcing him to sit up to maintain his balance. “Take that, dipshit.”

“Can’t you do better than that?” Harry questions, tone so mocking and condescending that you push yourself to his knees just as he rises to stand, the top button of his shirt mercifully coming undone, and you resist the urge to glance at it every so often. “C’mon, babe - if you’re gonna be a bitch -”

You push yourself to stand on top of the covers, taking a leap towards Harry where he stands on the other side of the bed, and your legs hook around his torso, effectively catching him by surprise as his hands immediately land on your waist, tugging you off of him and throwing you onto the bed with an ease that shouldn’t surprise you after this long of knowing him but it still knocks the breath out of you. His body hovers above you, pinning your arms above your head but you won’t have that - hook your legs around the back of his thighs and force him onto his back, throwing your legs over his torso as you mimic the position he’d trapped you in.

“1…” you begin counting tauntingly as you stare down at his face, reaching down to grab his wrists and hold them above his head, watching as he wriggles beneath you, his stomach tensing against your core. “2 … not even gonna put up a fight? What an agent you are -”

He practically growls at that, jerking his hands upward until they slip out of your grasp, nearly whacking you in the chin before he pushes himself up. You’re slammed into the headboard before you can even stop to think of your counterattack, back slamming into the wood as you drop your head forward to ensure you don’t knock your head into the wall, and Harry kneels in front of you with an exasperated, smug smirk, reaching up to press his forearm over your throat.

He’s not pressing hard - not enough to constrict your breathing at all, merely to hold your head in place - and after a second he begins counting just as you had - “1 … 2 … 3.”

You struggle uselessly against him until he reaches the final number, and a satisfied smile etches itself across his face before he pulls away, resting back on his knees to watch you huff before him before he begins crawling off the bed. “An’ I think that means that you, m’lady, have t’take the couch -”

You deliver one final swift kick to the back of Harry’s needs, and he tumbles off of the bed onto the ground with a cry, knees dropping onto the carpet and hands instinctively pressing to the wall he’d nearly slammed his head into. His position becomes one similar to a prayer, dropping his head forward against the wall with a dramatic groan.

“I won,” you tell him, flopping onto your back on the bed with a satisfied hum. “Get on the couch - reckon we still have a good 10 minutes left of our nap.”

Harry pushes himself to his feet in the blink of an eye, turning around with a look on his face that’s so serious you nearly want to double over in laughter, and as he plants his knees on the edge of the bed to resume the fight you’d had earlier, a sudden noise from the wall opposite your bed causes you to hold your palm out to him, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

“Shh!” you hiss, pushing yourself onto your elbows as Harry furrows his eyebrows, craning his neck towards the wall as though it’ll help him hear better. “D’you hear that?”

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, pondering the muffled noises coming from the hotel room next door. “Wha’?” Harry questions after a moment, voice hushed and soft, and you wait a moment before responding.

“The shower -” and, sure enough, just as the thought crosses your mind and the words leave your mouth you know that that’s the noise you’re hearing - the sound of water streaming onto the buff body of Vincent Carfield or perhaps his wife - “what time is it?”

“Uh -” Harry scrambles off the bed, digging through his backpack thrown on the ground until he can pull out his tablet, and the light shines on his face as he turns it on. “6:34.”

“Shit,” you hiss, rolling off the bed and practically darting out to the entrance hall where your suitcase rests against the wall, and you knock it to the ground and unzip it quickly. “Vincent’s already getting ready - we need to be at the restaurant soon. How fast can you get ready?”

“Pretty fast -” by the time Harry’s made his way into the entrance hall to dig through the suitcase he’d attempted to hit you with earlier you’ve peeled off your clothes, dropping them in a pile by your feet until you’re clad in only your bra and a pair of lace panties that leave entirely too little to the imagination, holster holding your knife firm against your thigh, and he freezes. “Christ. Can’t y’get a room f’that?”

“Oh, says the one who strips naked in the middle of the room every single night!” You shake your head, digging through your suitcase until you can find the black dress you’d packed specifically for dinner - it’s folded and mercifully wrinkle free, and you unzip the back to begin stepping into it. “Get ready. I’m going to do my makeup.”

“Make sure y’put a lot on - don’t wanna scare him off -”

“Shut up, Harry!”

 ~~

 Fucina’s is dark and fancy, with hosts dressed in all black and waitresses in a similar fashion. You would almost feel out of place, your arm hooked with Harry’s as you’re led through the main dining room towards the back where your table is, but it’s not any more elegant than any of the other expensive restaurants and galas the pair of you have infiltrated together, and with your tight dress and his suit, you look like exactly the couple to eat and afford a restaurant like this.

“The pasta’s $65,” Harry murmurs, trailing his fingertip down the laminated menu that you can hardly see in the dim light of the restaurant. You squint down at the page, bringing your head closer down to confirm that, yes, the fettuccine truly is that fucking expensive, and - not for the first time - you’re immensely grateful for the headquarters-mandated debit cards that you’ll use to pay for this. “Y’see that? The fettuccine?”

“Yeah,” you nod, though you’re not looking at the menu any longer - your eyes scan the restaurant behind Harry’s back, and of the three other tables in the private section Mark had requested for Mr. and Mrs. James Robinson to be in, none of them are occupied except yours. You and Harry had gotten there ten minutes late, much to Mark’s chagrin when you called him in the taxi, and the Carfields still hadn’t arrived. “Think I’m just gonna get a salad - not too hungry, anyway.”

“Me too.”

The conversation drains into a weird sort of silence - not awkward, and not malicious, either, as all of your silences usually are typically the result of one of you purposely ignoring the other. It’s harder to air out your disdain for each other when you’re supposed to be a couple that’s hopelessly in love in a high class restaurant, and you find that you don’t have much else to talk about with your partner besides discussing either the mission or whatever he’s doing that may be pissing you off at the moment -

He actually looks nice right now. Calm, collected - if you didn’t know better you’d say he looks like a pretty stand-up guy. The kind you’d take home to your mom.

“Why are y’lookin’ at me?” Harry questions, then, glancing up at you, and you internally curse at yourself - you always tend to forget how good he is at identifying someone staring at him. 

“Just thinking about how much I prefer you when you aren’t speaking,” you tell him, voice dropping lower as a host clad in black leads an older couple into the area, sitting them at a table towards the window as Harry rolls his eyes. You lift your water glass to your lips, taking a slow sip as you attempt to inconspicuously decipher if the couple is your target -

“You’re being so obvious,” Harry hisses, voice soft like a breath and yet still retaining all the venom his words always tend to hold. “Is it them?”

“No,” you decide, resting your glass back on your coaster as you slide your chair further into the table, foot accidentally kicking his ankle as you do - his face contorts in both annoyance and pain as he repeats the motion to you. “No - Carfield’s wife is young, isn’t she?”

“27.”

“Yeah.” The wife currently settling into her seat, draping her jacket over the back of her chair, is decidedly not 27 - add 50 years, or so. “Not them. They should be here soon, though.” 

“Good.”

In another moment your waitress has come to take your drink orders - you get a bottle of red wine just to hammer in the notion that you’re a young couple on a date night, even if you really prefer white wine, and you’re sure Harry would rather have a beer, but Mark always tells you to go for red when you’re out to dinner on missions. And - well - you’re not necessarily complaining. Wine is wine.

The wine arrives at your table with two tall glasses and Harry takes it to pour with a faux cheerful grin that has the waitress flushing in the dim light of the room - you tell yourself the tinge of jealousy at her clear adoration for the man currently uncorking the bottle to pour for you is simply because of how in character you are in terms of your fake marriage - and if you were someone else, perhaps you’d get angry at her for clearly flirting with Harry, though he doesn’t seem to notice.

Strange. You’d always taken him as the more observant one of the two of you, but he’s paying no mind to the waitress’s blushed face as he pours wine into your glass and she pulls out her notepad, ready to take your order.

“I’ll have the caesar salad, please, without chicken,” you tell her, giving a tight lipped grin as she scribbles it down onto her page. When Harry’s rested the bottle of wine back on the tablecloth-clad table, you reach over and rest your hand overtop of his, feeling his veins jump beneath your touch. “What about you, honey?”

If he’s confused, he doesn’t look it - just gives you a warm smile that feels entirely wrong coming from him, and the waitress looks positively affronted as he orders a large Mediterannean salad, and when she’s tucked her notebook back into the apron tied around her waist and left the private area, he furrows his eyebrows at you.

“Y’jealous?” Harry inquires, leaning his head in with a mocking grin that makes you roll your eyes, though you make no effort to move your hand from his - it looks better for appearances, anyway. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“In your dreams,” you insist, straightening your posture once a different hostess leads a couple into the room. The man is old, bald head shining in the dim light and donning a suit jacket that clearly hasn’t been tailored to his proportions, and his wife is significantly younger, pale face flushed red and wearing a black dress that looks as though she’s attending a funeral - you suppose she is, to some degree, mourning her marriage, so perhaps it’s fitting.

Harry can tell by the way you straighten up that the new couple sitting at the table behind him is the Carfields. Vincent sits with his back to your table, his wife on the opposite side, and immediately they lean their heads together, surely speaking in hushed tones about - prenuptial agreements and custody of their two girls and the like.

You need to be a couple. Mark had insisted on it, that it’s the most important part for you to get closer to Vincent and make him susceptible to your manipulation - he needs to see you as some sort of forbidden fruit - a married woman with a seemingly happy husband. It’s a control thing for him, and one you need to play into if you want to take his drug ring down.

It would sound like an ambitious goal if you weren’t as confident in yourself and Harry - because even if you hate him, he’s a damn good agent.

Your eyes meet Harry’s across the table, and he raises an eyebrow. You nod, jerking your head up and down before wrapping your manicured fingers around the stem of your wine glass, lifting it up and giving your partner a soft smile - one that he’s rarely on the receiving end of, if you’re being truthful - and you nod your chin towards his glass. Harry follows your lead, lifting his glass and raising it to clink against yours.

“Cheers,�� he murmurs, and both of you sip from your glasses before resting them back down on your coasters, the rim of your glass decorated with a generous pink stain from your lipstick. “Happy anniversary, honey.”

His voice raises in volume just a bit, and from the table behind him you can see tears fill Mrs. Carfield’s eyes at the sentiment of a happy couple, and Mr. Carfield’s head tilts to the side though you don’t watch him long enough to see if he’d heard Harry - you simply smile - lift your intertwined hands in the air and to anyone else in your private area you’re sure you simply look the perfect part of a happy couple, celebrating their marriage anniversary. Two years together. Mr. and Mrs. James Robinson have been married for longer than you’ve known (and despised) Harry - surely there’s irony hidden in there, deep enough that you can’t see it.

It’s easier than you’d like to admit to fake a meaningful conversation with Harry. Mark generally gives the pair of you a list of things to talk about so people get the impression that you can tolerate each other but you typically don’t even need it - it’s easy enough to talk about your faux plans for the rest of your marriage.

It’s almost fun, even. Not in a way you’d expect - but it’s funny, talking about whatever the pair of you would imagine married couples would discuss - mortgages and trying for babies and politics - keeping your voices loud enough so the couple behind you can hear but quiet enough so it doesn’t seem intentional.

“D’you think we could turn the guest room into a nursery?” Harry inquires, lips quirking upwards as he lifts his wine to his lips, and you nibble on your bottom lip, pretending to contemplate the question.

“Of course,” you respond faux-thoughtfully, leaning forward just a bit, and his eyes flicker downwards for hardly a second before rising to meet your eyes again. “Or perhaps the office.”

“Yes, that’s a bit bigger,” he says seriously, and you nod, reaching for your glass of wine to take another small sip. It’s bitter and leaves a sour taste on your tongue, but you’re determined to drink the entire thing - it’ll soothe the nerves that you’re sure will arrive when it’s time to plant the bug on Mr. Carfield. You still haven’t figured out how you’ll manage to do it smoothly. “Then perhaps we could save the guest room for the second.”

You nod, hardly able to keep the small smile off your lips, and Harry leans forward, reaching for the stem of his glass - perhaps he miscalculates the force needed to pick up a glass, or maybe he’s beginning to feel the effects of the first glass of wine he’d downed - but his hand knocks into the glass, sending it toppling forward onto your arms, sticky red liquid coating your skin. You jerk your arms back as though he’d burned you, watching him hiss as he reaches for the glass before it can spill any further onto you or the white tablecloth now stained with redness.

You swallow the urge to snap at him - that’s counterproductive, and it’ll blow your cover - so you merely inhale, willing the anger down as you reach for your napkin to begin to mop up the mess. “Should watch what you’re doing, honey -”

“My bad, darling - didn’t mean to -”

And the moment of you beginning to like Harry is gone as fast as it had begun, feeling the simmering anger that’s ever-present beneath your skin already beginning to bubble into existence. He’s looking at you with his eyebrows raised as if this is your fault that he can’t control his own glass, like you’re the nuisance, and your desire to retort snarkily is thwarted only as Vincent Carfield’s head turns just slightly to the side, and you can see him and his wife watching the pair of you in what’s clearly an attempt to be subtle.

You rest your palms on the table as Harry sets his glass back on the coaster, and you can feel the similar waves of annoyance rolling off of him that you’re sure you’re mirroring. “I’m going to go clean myself up,” you tell him. “Excuse me for a moment, sweetheart.”

“Take your time, princess.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes as you push your chair back with a tight lipped smile, standing up and resting your napkin on the table before your seat as you push past the table towards the bathroom you’d passed when your host had lead you to the table.

The restrooms are nicely decorated, with large mirrors and sinks and two singular stalls - entirely too fancy for the thoughts racing through your mind as you lean over the sink, turning the faucet on and shoving your sticky arms beneath the flow of warm water. You’d managed to clean most of the wine with your napkin but you still just need - perhaps just a moment to yourself, without Harry’s eyes piercing into you in a way that makes it impossible to feel like he doesn’t want to throttle you.

And you want to throttle him, too. That’s why your relationship works because it doesn’t, because you hate him as much as he hates you - and yet, while you were drinking wine and messing around and pretending to be a couple you didn’t hate him. Not even a bit -

Until he spilled the wine. It’s a forcible reminder of why you want to shave off all of his hair when he sleeps, sometimes.

The water has gone cold on your skin when you finally shut the faucet off, picking up a small stack of paper towels to dry off your arms. When you’ve chucked your trash in the wicker-basket garbage bin you take a moment to simply stare at yourself in the mirror, black dress hugging your body just enough to leave very little to the imagination - you adjust the fabric to hide the bulge where you have your knife holstered to your thigh. The cut of the dress dips low into your cleavage - and then you recall how Harry’s eyes had briefly dipped downwards when you’d been talking earlier -

A smile twitches at your lips. You’ll have to remember to use that one against him later.

Just before you turn to leave you pause - stick your hand down the front of your dress to the small audio device you’d hidden in your bra. The bug is small, barely the size of your pinky nail, one side sticky enough to hold onto Vincent Carfield’s tan suit jacket -

You hadn’t thought too much about how you’d manage to subtly get the device on him, but there’s no time like the present, is there?

You leave the bathroom, then - nearly run into your waitress as she stares down at her notepad, and you’re not sure if you’re imagining the dirty look she shoots you - and climb the two short steps it takes to get to the private area you’d been seated in. Harry’s back faces you, curls looking particularly messy and head dropped forward to surely stare at his phone, and you can see Vincent leaning in to talk to his wife with narrowed eyes and a hushed tone.

You inhale and begin your walk over to the table, heels clicking on the tiled floor, and Harry’s head tilts to the side as he hears you coming. Vincent’s eyes rise to meet yours just as your heel slides a bit on the floor and you slip forward right beside their table, and the plan falls into action just as you’d planned in the thirty second walk it had taken to get from the bathroom to here.

Vincent’s arm sticks out instinctively to catch you, wrapped around your stomach for just a moment too long as his other hand rests on your back, and you use the opportunity to reach up and grab his shoulder as a way to steady yourself. Harry jerks around in his seat to watch you, and the concern in his eyes almost makes you revive your brief moment of liking him but it’s overpowered by the pride you feel - if he can’t immediately snuff out that the fall was a fraud, then it had clearly looked realistic enough that the Carfields wouldn’t be able to tell, your hand with the bug pressing to his shoulder

Boom. Planted. Your grip presses the bug against the back of his shoulder as he helps you to your feet, and you pretend not to notice the way his eyes trail up your body - his poor wife looks affronted at the clear display of attraction.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” you apologize, trailing your finger down his arm as he drops his hands back to the table. “I’m so clumsy sometimes -”

“No worries,” he assures you, and perhaps he would seem like a kind, well-adjusted man if it weren’t for the way his eyes zero in on your chest like a magnet - Harry shifts in his seat, watching the two of you, and his wife picks up her glass of wine and downs it in one sip. “Always glad to help a pretty girl in need.”

A blush works its way up your cheeks and before you can flirt back - it raises bile in the back of your throat to do it - Harry intervenes, leaning forward with a goddamn award winning smile and absolutely stomping on your chance to ensure some sort of relationship with Mr. Carfield as he says, “Did she wrinkle your suit at all? We’ll get the laundry bill, if she did.”

You grind your teeth together through a smile as Vincent shakes his bald head, sending Harry a warm smile which your partner gladly reciprocates. “It’s fine - are the two of you married?”

Didn’t he hear you two loudly celebrating your anniversary? Perhaps he just needs to confirm it - nothing wrong with it - but, God, he’s forward.

“Yes, we are,” you reply, and you step away from Vincent to walk back to your table - Harry reaches for your hand and pulls you to him, and you suspect the motion would look awkward if done by anyone else but it feels entirely too natural for you to be bothered. “It’s our two year marriage anniversary, actually. That’s why we’re here - on vacation.”

“That’s lovely,” Vincent says, and his smile stretches wider until it makes you uncomfortable to look at so you busy yourself gazing down at Harry’s head as though you’re so smitten you can hardly stand to look away. Then he holds out his hand, and you grab it, letting him shake it vigorously before he moves towards Harry. “It’s Vincent Carfield,” he tells you both, and Harry jumps in to introduce yourselves by your false names. “How long are you here?” “Just th’weekend,” Harry responds, nodding as Vincent does. “We’re staying downtown.”

“Really?” Vincent leans forward, and you lean your body back just a bit - not enough for him to notice, thankfully. “What hotel?”

And Harry gives him the name and Vincent acts as though it’s the wildest coincidence in the world that you both happen to be staying at one of the nicest, most popular hotels in London but you’re glad he overreacts, in a way. It’s important to establish some sort of relation between the two of you and maybe this’ll make Vincent feel like he’s destined to start some sort of affair with you - sure, it’s stupid, but he’s insecure and you’re ‘married’ and that should make him feel a bit more in control, knowing there’s a man waiting for you when you’re with him.

The thought could nearly make you gag. You hope beyond hope that it doesn’t have to get to it - that maybe the two of you could just sit and talk while Harry searches his hotel room - but, judging from the way he’s practically salivating as he stares up at you, you don’t think that’ll be the case.

After another moment of chatter your waitress arrives with a large plate of salad in each hand - you let go of Harry’s hand with one last departing wink to Vincent Carfield as you walk around the table to your seat, pushing your seat into the table just as your salad is placed before you.

Vincent’s wife glares at you - you’d feel bad in any other scenario. But - hey - at least they’re getting divorced already.

You pick up your fork, stabbing into a crouton and a few pieces of iceberg lettuce, and you raise it to your mouth, chewing thoughtfully on your food as Harry mirrors your actions. The two of you eat in silence for a minute or two, and you occasionally lift your wine to take a sip - he hadn’t poured himself a new glass, for which you are extremely grateful - before he leans in, curls flopping around his ears in a way that would be adorable if you didn’t have any sort of niggling annoyance for him still lingering.

“Good job, Mrs. Robinson,” murmurs Harry into a forkful of lettuce before shoving it into his mouth, and you scrunch your nose at his sloppiness.

“It’s what I’m best at,” you respond in earnest, and you relish in the way he rolls his eyes.

 ~~

 Harry takes forever in the shower.

It’s an indisputable fact at this point and one you should have gotten used to but it never fails to amaze you as your fingers type away at the headquarters-issued laptop resting on the carpet in front of you. He’s already been in the bathroom for nearly 20 minutes - you can hear his music playing, old hippie music that’s always blaring from his earbuds on plane and car rides, and steam billows out of the crack in the bottom of the door - and you’ve been picking up where he left up setting up the audio transmitter you’d attached to Vincent Carfield so you can hear what he’s saying, wired earbuds plugged into the computer preparation for when you start the audio.

Harry hadn’t done much at all to set it up - you can’t imagine what he was doing in the hotel room while you were showering if he wasn’t working on the mission, but you’d come out after your shower and hardly anything was done.

They should come up with better technology for this, you think as you drum your fingernails against your laptop, watching the small loading bar inch across the computer screen, transmitting the audio from next door to both your laptop and to Mark, back at headquarters. You’d texted him briefly to ask if he still wanted you to call him and he told you to merely connect the audio to him and there would be no issues - well, that’s fine by you, even if you’d largely counted on him coming between you and Harry when you’ll inevitably want to kill him later tonight.

The water shuts off. You roll your eyes for a good few seconds as you hear the shower curtain being shoved open from inside the bathroom, and you lean further into the computer before you, squinting at the loading bar that hasn’t progressed further since the last time you examined it. You sigh - push yourself off of the floor, arms stretched above your head and the sleeves of your t-shirt slide further down your shoulders. You’re simply donning a worn college shirt you’d gotten when you were in high school and still had dreams of attending a typical university - dreams that, evidently, you had squashed in the years to come - and a pair of sleep shorts, their waist just a tad too big on you and you’ve tugged them up further than they should rest.

It’s decidedly chilly in the hotel. The steam dissipating through the room from Harry’s shower serves as the only way to heat you up, humid air warm on your skin, and you hate the way you almost appreciate him for taking such a piping hot shower - but the thought doesn’t have to linger too long before the bathroom door opens with the force of a fucking bullet and Harry walks out, towel tied around his waist and hanging low on his hips, sopping curls brushed and resting on his shoulders, droplets from the strands rolling down his chest.

Your stomach flips. 

“Christ,” you say as a way of hiding the way your skin suddenly feels like there’s a fire lighting it from the inside out, burning your insides with it. “Don’t have any clothes to put on?”

He rolls his eyes - you swallow thickly, perching yourself on the edge of the bed as he takes a moment to stop and glance at the computer on the ground before turning back to you. “Changing in the bathroom is gross,” and - well, yeah, you have to agree with that. “Y’practically stripped naked in front f’me earlier, y’know.”

“You did it first,” you mutter, pulling your legs to cross beneath you as Harry crosses the room to the full length mirror mounted on the wall, fingers running through his wet curls, and you tear your eyes away from the water dripping onto his bare skin with only mild difficulty. “The audio is loading.”

“I saw that, believe it or not.”

Dick. You bite your tongue, though, and resist the urge to retort that he’d clearly not even started to set up the transmitter while you were showering, because the loading bar has moved nearly to the end of the screen while you’d been conversing with Harry. You climb off the bed, kneeling in front of the computer as Harry looks down at you, and you distinctly feel a drop from his hair land on the top of your head.

“S’done?” he inquires, and you glance up at him to reply but he’s already plopping down next to you, leaning over you to squint at the screen so you get a nice whiff of the hotel soap he’d used and his own distinct scent of shampoo - it’s fruity, mixed with something musky you can’t decipher - maybe tobacco? It’s hard to tell - he smells good. You wonder if he’s noticed how still you’ve gotten but then he pulls away, leaning back on his arm while you clear your throat and lean forward, tapping the mousepad on your laptop a few times in quick succession. “You’ve got it hooked to Mark?”

“‘Course,” you say, if only to regain your composure and keep your pretense of light annoyance with him. “Probably why it’s taking so long.”

“Ah.”

Then he stands, crossing to the entrance hall where his suitcase is opened, clothes folded meticulously because he’s nothing if not a freak for his clothes - out of the corner of your eye you see him pull out a pair of pajama pants and only a pair of pajama pants, and when his head turns to glance back at you, you’re quick to avert your gaze back to the computer -

Which has loaded. Hooray!

“It’s done,” you call to him, a decibel too loud and you’re quick to lower your voice with a small glance to the wall separating you and the Carfields. Earlier, you’d heard their door slam when they got home from dinner and you could make out their faint voices arguing if you focused hard enough - you don’t want them to hear you. “Get changed and we can listen.”

You pick up one of the earbuds connected to the laptop and shove it in your ear, fiddling with the volume buttons until it’s loud enough that you can hear their conversations as Harry ducks back into the bathroom. Clearly the coat with the bug has been folded in such a way that it muffles their voices but hell, it’s a strong bug, and you can still manage to hear them fine enough.

You send a text to Mark, and he confirms he can hear it too - you toss your phone to the side, letting it slide across the carpet as you lean in, adjusting the earbud in your ear.

Vincent’s voice is what you hear first - he’s talking fast, as though he’s in a rush, and your brows furrow.

“The new shipment isn’t set to come in until the first,” he says, tone hushed and soft, and you can’t hear his wife’s response after a moment of listening, and then he continues. “Think, you idiot! She’s trying to milk me for everything I’ve got - everything we’ve worked for -”

For a brief moment you wonder who she is, but after another few moments with no response you figure that he isn’t talking to his wife as you’d expected - he’s on the phone with someone, speaking of his divorce. A business partner - of course. The bathroom door opens, and your eyes shift to Harry’s figure as you hold out the available earbud for him.

Fuck. He’s gonna fucking kill you - not with his hands or with his gun but with those fucking pants, so low on his hips you can see the trail of hair leading beneath the plaid fabric, the tie done loose and casual. He’s not wearing a shirt, tattoos on full display for you to ogle if you had the time to, and you don’t, of course, but it doesn’t stop your eyes from roaming over his torso, throat feeling suddenly dry as he pads over to you on the ground, dropping to his knees beside you.

“Are you checking me out?” Harry questions, a soft smirk dancing on his lips and you roll your eyes, dangling the earbud for him to grab and he finally takes it, placing it in his left ear just as Vincent begins to speak again.

“Never,” you murmur, and if that isn’t the furthest from the truth you could get to you’re not quite sure what is. “Listen to him - I’m going to the bathroom.” And, as you push yourself to stand and walk towards the bathroom, you swear you can hear him murmur slacker beneath his breath but - well - you don’t need to respond to everything he says sometimes.

Truthfully, yes. You did have to pee. And when you’re done with that you turn on the faucet to wash your hands and you stare at the bathroom mirror that’s still damp from the steam of his shower, edges still frosted with the humidity, and it makes your reflection fuzzy as you look at yourself.

What the fuck? Seriously - what the fuck?

There’s a pressure in your lower stomach and a neediness between your thighs that you can only assign to Harry’s freshly-showered, no-shirt-low-pants appearance and it has shame bubbling under your skin mixed with some other feeling you don’t care enough to figure out. You’re feeling very strange things for Harry - things you’ve never felt for him, ever, in the entire year of knowing him - and you’re almost completely positive he doesn’t feel the same, doesn’t have the same desire to bend you over this sink -

Almost. But almost is very close to absolutely positive.

You feel embarrassed for yourself as you glance around the sink. His hairbrush sits on the counter, and there are so many assorted beauty products scattered across the surface that you can’t tell which ones are yours or his.

The lotion is his, you decide. You don’t use unscented lotion - but you reach for it anyway, squirting a dollop onto your palms and rubbing it in for a reason you’re not entirely sure of. When your hands are as soft as they’re going to get you glance at yourself in the mirror again, shirt baggy and long, the ends of your shorts peeking beneath the fabric.

You reach up, pulling the waistband of your shorts up until they aren’t visible beneath the ends of your shirt, exposing your legs until it appears you’re wearing no sleep shorts beneath the shirt. It’s more comfortable like that, anyway, you tell yourself, which isn’t quite true, before pushing the bathroom door open and walking back out to where Harry’s perched on the floor.

He turns to look at you, and you don’t miss the way his eyes crawl up your legs but he’s a bit more subtle about it than you’re sure you were - his bottom lip looks a deeper shade of red than the top and you wonder if he’d been biting it.

You decide not to repeat his retort about checking you out, even if you’re almost entirely sure he was.

“How’s it going?” you inquire, picking up your earbud to begin listening again. The wire connecting the two buds is short and you shift closer to him until the tip of your kneecap brushes his - you’d expected him to jerk away like you’d fucking stepped on him but he doesn’t, surprisingly. “Got anything juicy?”

“Jus’ vague references t’shipments and goods - they’re trying t’trace his call, see who he’s talking to.” You nod, resting your chin on your palm as Vincent drones on about exactly what Harry had said - the only substantial piece of evidence you have pointing to his business being a coverup for a drug trafficking scheme is references to obscene amounts of money he fears losing to his ex-wife that he would’ve never been able to obtain working at a privately-owned tailory. 

For ten minutes Vincent’s phone call remains as a bit of a drag and, truthfully, a rather large waste of time in your opinion - this is stuff you’d already known, including the shipment coming in a week’s time that you know headquarters will be able to intercept - and you’ve just begun to pull out your earbud to retreat to the bathroom once more to brush your teeth when Harry’s arm jerks towards you, fingers wrapping around your wrist and effectively preventing you from rising.

“Jesus hell,” you hiss, dropping back down onto the ground as you shove your earbud back in, “what -?”

But then Vincent is speaking again.

“ - look, buddy,” he says, voice suddenly dropped lower so that Harry reaches out, tapping the volume button a few times until you can hear him properly, “met this girl at dinner tonight, out with Bonnie. Real cute - body like a fuckin’ goddess.”

Your cheeks flush as a small smirk spreads across Harry’s face.

Vincent pauses, clearly awaiting his business partner’s response to this shocking bit of news, and when he speaks again he sounds more annoyed. “Fuckin’ done with Bonnie - I’m a free agent, Jules.”

You snap at Harry, but he’s already fishing for his phone, pulling up the notes app and jotting down the name Jules in a fresh page.

“Can fuck whoever I want to, now, and I swear, you’d die if you saw her.” You can practically picture the scumbag’s face as he says it, all smug and arrogant - as though you’d ever give him the time of a day if you weren’t being fucking paid for it. “Staying at the same hotel too, with her husband.”

Another pause. “Jules, do you think I give a shit about husbands? Remember Mia, in LA? The one married to that big fella? She was all over me.”

Your lips quirk up into a smile even as your stomach continues to churn in disgust, and Harry exhales softly, resting his phone on top of his knee. Clearly, Vincent’s conversation with Jules has turned from fighting for nearly fifteen minutes about shipments and payments to you and it’s entirely less important but it still piques your interest more. The gritty details of their shipping is for Mark to handle back at headquarters - you need to make sure you can distract Vincent long enough for Harry to search his room.

“ - and, man, you should’ve seen the eyes this girl was giving me - and her husband was all over her, too, checkin’ her out but she was still looking at me -”

You nearly choke at that, head whipping to the side to look at Harry, and he’s doing a sufficient job of furrowing his eyebrows and looking entirely confused at Vincent’s words but you don’t believe him for a moment. Checking you out - God, and you had the nerve to feel embarrassed for your desire for him. A month ago you may have been truly annoyed at Vincent’s observation but it only fuels the fire igniting in your core as Harry puts on his pretense of adjusting his earbuds, tips of his ears bright red as he pointedly avoids your gaze, and you bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from grinning.

“I’ll let you go. God, don’t sound so pretentious - didn’t you hook up with that French chick who was married to the boxer? - Yeah, that’s what I thought -”

You’re much less interested in Vincent’s conversations now, pulling your earbud out and standing up, arms stretched high above your head as Harry stays, leaning against the ground with one arm. After a moment, though, Vincent must have ended his phone call - Harry shuts the laptop and pulls his earbud out, standing up, and your gazes meet for a moment.

“Vincent’s an idiot,” he tells you, flush creeping up his neck, and you nod.

“Is he?’

“Y’know he was just saying that so he seemed cool, right?”

“Said what?”

Harry rolls his eyes, then, and you can’t stop the smirk from gracing your lips once more as he crosses across the hotel room, collapsing onto his back onto the bed, and you furrow your eyebrows as you watch him. “Didn’t check you out.”

“I didn’t say you did.” He doesn’t respond, and you sit yourself on the edge of the bed, glaring down at his slumped figure. “You’re not getting the bed.”

“‘Course I am. We fought it out, remember?”

“And we didn’t finish.”

“We absolutely did,” and then he pushes himself to sit up, leaning against the headboard, and it takes more willpower than you possess to keep your eyes from roaming his body but you resist with everything in you - you’ll just about die if he calls you out for checking him out. “I beat you. I had y’against the headboard.”

“That was inconclusive.”

“Get on the couch.”

You narrow your eyes at him and he narrows his right back, staring into his fucking soul because you’ll be damned if you sleep on the couch, even if it makes logistical sense because he is taller than you - but, no. You’re the one who could possibly have to fuck Vincent Carfield in all his glory. You deserve the bed, size be damned.

In the end, you blink first, and come bedtime, you’re nestled on the couch with blankets you’d found in the hotel wardrobe.

You hate Harry.

 ~~

 The couch is extremely uncomfortable. It’s what you’d expected but your back still aches in pain when you wake up at 3 in the fucking morning, blankets dangling off the edge of the cushions you’re bundled on top of, and the pillow your head was resting on has slipped off onto the ground.

The room is pitch black as you groan, the noise purposefully loud, reaching down until your fingers graze the edge of the pillow - but your grip is slow, tired, and as you pick up the pillow to throw it back behind your head it slips from your grasp, dropping onto the ground and bouncing against the carpet until it’s resting a solid six feet from the couch.

Do you really need a pillow? You’re not sure, but you desperately don’t want to have to get up and get it because you know your sleepiness will melt away before you can even think about it, and, more than anything, you desire going back to sleep in order to try and be well rested for tomorrow. 

You reach down and pull your clump of blankets back up over yourself, pulling your knees further against your chest so the entire area of the blankets coats your body. Your head rests against the flat cushion, pillow be damned, and you shift again until your back is rested flat against the cushion as well, legs sticking straight out in front of you, the couch creaking at the movement.

The blankets don’t cover your legs - you push one of them down until they’re situated onto your feet, collectively covering your entire body even if it isn’t necessarily warm. At least they’re blanketed to some degree.

After ten minutes of trying to go back to bed, you pointedly decide that yes, you really do need a pillow, and immediately. Your neck already aches with the uncomfortable position and your ears feel chilly without being pressed into the soft pillow you’d snatched from the bed Harry is currently sleeping on - the bastard. He’d practically suffocated you with his smug gazes before he fell asleep, curled on top of the bed that he’d (rightfully) claimed as his after an arm wrestle, rock paper scissors game, and a half-hearted second attempt at a wrestling match - you’d lost all three.

Whatever. You’d been determined not to sulk at your losses before returning to the couch, trying not to let Harry see you mope but now you wish you’d made a bigger show of your disappointment - perhaps he’d have caved and taken the couch, but you’re sure he’d have stayed firm no matter what.

You slowly push yourself off of the couch, creeping across the room towards where your pillow rests on the ground, and you pick it up, clutching it tight to your chest before returning to the couch. You press it against the cushion, punching it a few times to attempt to soften it before huffing softly, lying yourself back down and tugging your blankets tight back up against you.

The next ten minutes goes by much as the night had previously - you can’t find a good position, turning onto your side and your back and your stomach until you’re hardly sure which way you’re facing, at this point, face buried tight against your pillow. You long for not much more than a soft bed for your back to rest into and you’re sure you’ll be a sore, tired disaster tomorrow when you manage to find Vincent Carfield in the hotel.

You turn to your side, the couch squeaking beneath the shift in your weight, and your body tenses when you hear a soft groan from the lump wrapped in covers on top of the bed, his silhouette illuminated only by the moonlight streaming through the window into the hotel room.

“How much longer are y’gonna move?” Harry grunts, voice low and raspy and you swallow when you hear it - if you close your eyes and listen to him speak, you could almost imagine him sounding like that in a very different scenario - “Keepin’ me up.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” you retort, voice soft and crackling with your yearning to sleep. “If you’d like to take the couch so I stop tossing and turning, I’d much appreciate it.”

He exhales softly, the noise sounding so deep and pornographic it makes your stomach flip. “In your dreams.”

You narrow your eyes as you stare at him, duvet pulled up to his chest and head turned to the side towards you - in the dark you can’t tell if his eyes are shut or if he’s looking at you. For a moment you decide not to say anything, hands crossed over your stomach, and then you shift loudly onto your back, couch creaking, and Harry sighs just as you’d anticipated.

“Please,” he begins, tone low and pleading, and you cut him off before he can continue.

“Not my fault the couch is loud, Har.”

“You’re doin’ it on purpose.”

“Of course I’m not,” you tell him, shifting again so another noise permeates the air of the hotel room. “The couch is just noisy - and uncomfortable.”

There’s a rather pregnant pause after that and you keep your eyes on Harry, watching the way he shifts onto his back, opening up a rather small sliver of space beside him and your heart practically leaps at the sight but you don’t say anything else - simply roll back onto your side, the couch creaking as you do, and he sighs again.

It seems like he sighs a lot.

“If I invite you into my bed,” Harry begins, and a small smile begins tugging your lips upwards even if you want to groan at his usage of the word my, “you’ll promise t’be quiet an’ go t’sleep?”

God, he sounds like your mother. “Yes,” you tell him, clutching the blankets wrapped around your torso. “I promise.”

Another pause. “Then - then y’can come. We can share.”

You try not to look too eager. Masking your emotions is, perhaps, the most important aspect of your job and yet you’re sure you look just as excited as you feel, pushing yourself to your feet with your blankets wrapped around your body, pillow stowed beneath your arm. Your feet pad across the carpet, toes sinking into the plushness of the floor before you make it to the bed, and Harry’s staring up at you, face contorted in a mixture of emotions you can’t decipher.

“Not gonna scooch over, then?” you question, resting your pillow against the bed and hitting it a few times. 

“Y’have room, don’t you?”

And the answer is that you don’t, of course. When you lie yourself down on the bed your legs knock into Harry’s, head so close to his you can feel his curls grazing your face, and the duvet you pull up your chin smells like him, distinctly. His elbow juts into your side - your cold foot rests against his warm one - you don’t think you’ve ever touched him this much outside of a mission.

You drape your clump of blankets over your body, partially resting on top of Harry, smoothing your palms over the fabric with a contented sigh. Your back is thanking you for the switch in sleeping spots and your neck sinks into the pillow and mattress, aches already beginning to alleviate themselves.

“Still need me t’move?” Harry asks, and you shut your eyes, nearly missing the way his eyes lingered on you for just a moment longer than necessary before he rests himself back against the bed.

“No,” you murmur, and there’s another moment of silence before he mumbles his affirmation. Tomorrow you’re sure you’ll regret this - sleeping beside him, even if that’s all you do - feeling him pressed against parts of your body you’d never expected to feel his touch on.

Well, you’d rather deal with the tinge of embarrassment (and pride) than an achy back and lack of sleep - you smile slightly.

 ~~

 The next morning comes entirely too soon for your liking - sunlight peeking through the windows permeates your eyelids until you’re groaning awake, palm pressed against your eyes to block the light and face burying itself back into your pillow.

Your alarm hasn’t gone off yet. If your alarm doesn’t go off, then it’s not morning. Surely you have a few more hours of rest before you need to get up - even a couple more minutes will do -

Just as the thought crosses your mind your phone blares its alarm, the loud noise jolting you up like a bucket of ice water, and, from behind you, Harry grunts into his pillow.

Behind you.

You’re quick to silence your alarm - another nine full minutes of peaceful resting, if you’re lucky, before you’re disturbed again, though you’re sure you won’t get back to bed now that you’ve remembered the events of last night. 

Harry’s arm is heavy, draped over your midsection, the soft surface of his cheek buried intently into the crevice between your neck and shoulder - you can feel his soft breathing against your skin, the air a warm and gentle sensation. One of his legs has wedged itself between yours, thigh pressed entirely too high in the crevice between your thighs, and with every moment that passes you can feel the rise and fall of his bare chest as he snores behind you.

What a fucking sight, you think, sitting up slightly to look down at him. God, if he were awake, you’d tease him until he cries about what a position the pair of you had worked yourselves into but you have the foresight to see how that would backfire on you - technically, you’re just as to blame as he is, even if he’s the bigger spoon right now.

But you’re most decidedly not to blame for the hardness pressing into your lower back, tearing a sleepy groan from Harry’s throat when you shift in your position.

The bastard. He’s hard as a fucking rock from pressing against you while you slept, and a sleepy smirk spreads across your face as you glance down at him. In any other circumstance you think you’d poke him awake just to make him aware of it but there’s a certain air of desire you’re feeling as well that makes you feel - well, not as though you’re in the appropriate position to make fun of him for his boner.

Slowly, you disentangle yourself from his body. His leg drops to the mattress when you swing your own off the edge of the bed, his arm falling until it’s resting in your lap, palm pressed against a certain area that makes your breath hitch, furrowing your eyebrows as you glance down at his hand. There are still fading, pink indents from the rings he takes off every night and before every mission, save for the fake wedding band the two of you often have to don on missions, and you scrunch your nose as you admire it.

Married. You don’t think so. The only time you think of him with anything other than hatred is when he’s asleep, like this - or shirtless.

You stand up, shaking your head to wipe those thoughts from your mind. Harry’s hand drops onto the mattress and you can tell it’s the push he needed into consciousness - you glance back at him to see his eyes cracked open, and they shut when your gazes meet.

“‘Morning,” you tell him, voice louder than you’d intended, and he winces at the noise, shifting onto his back - it’s as though you can see the exact moment he realizes his little problem mixed with the realization that you would also know about it, pressed up against him during the night - his eyes widen ever so slightly, and he pushes himself to lean against the headboard, bundling his duvet onto his lap. 

“Um - g’morning,” Harry replies, voice raspy like it had been the night prior and your stomach turns - you shift on your feet. “Y’goin’ t’the bathroom?”

“You can go first,” you say, and he nods, bringing fists up to rub at his eyes. And then - because you just can’t help pissing him off when you have such a golden opportunity - you add, “Think you might need it a bit more than I do.”

His face reddens.

 ~~

 Earpiece. Knife. Boobs.

You go through the things you need on a mental checklist as you pick up your forkful of scrambled eggs, chewing thoughtfully on the bite. The hotel restaurant is nearly completely full, couples and families packed into the small tables as they feast on their complimentary breakfasts, chatter filling the section. You’ve been sitting eating (truthfully, delicious) breakfast for the better half of an hour, bringing your plate up to the buffet to refill your platter of eggs, fruit, and toast.

Realistically, you would have eaten and left had you not been waiting for a very specific somebody to walk in and catch your eye. You and Harry had plugged back into the bug in Vincent’s room to hear him planning to go down for complimentary breakfast - the only clue you had as to how he wanted to spend his day - and it was the only opportunity you had to find him. Get him out of his room - talking, if possible - so Harry can search it.

It’s such an easy plan, you could practically do it in your sleep.

“Is he there yet?” inquires a crackling voice from your earpiece, disguised as an earring dangling from your lobes.

“No,” you murmur, voice soft as a whisper, and you’re sure he can’t hear your response until he sighs.

“Takin’ his time, isn’t he?”

“Mhm.”

You pick up your glass of orange juice, raising the cup to rouge-stained lips as you take a sip. When you rest it back down on the table, there’s a light red stain on the glass - you wipe it away with a manicured thumb, leaning back in your seat, legs crossed. Your eyes scan the restaurant again, lingering on any newcomers leaning against the wall in case you can pinpoint the man you’re searching for - wide frame, untailored suits, bald head that shines in the artificial light.

(Complimentary breakfast ends at 10, and it’s 9:48. It’s safe to say that you’re getting nervous.)

Your nerves, however, are soothed just a bit when a familiar figure makes his way into the dining hall - tall and haughty, phone pressed to his sweaty head, Vincent Carfield is the image of a stressed businessman, recently divorced and searching for a young, married woman who’d given him eyes last night. His suit is baggy, buttons of the jacket undone and his white button up has sweat stains spreading from the armpits, visible with his arm lifted up to his ear. Instinctively your back straightens, tugging down the top of your lace top so that the top of your cleavage shows - it seems to be your greatest weapon, dealing with a man like Carfield.

You lower your gaze to your phone clutched in your hand but you can still sense exactly the moment his eyes land on you. In your peripheral vision you watch him straighten up, lips moving quickly before his phone is shoved into his pocket, weaving his way between circular tables until he’s standing beside you, and you pretend not to notice the way his eyes never meet yours - his gaze stays on a point eerily similar to your chest.

“Is he there?” Harry questions, and you clear your throat - it’s the symbol you’d decided on to mean yes if you can’t speak.

“Vincent,” you begin, faux smile spreading across your face, and a similar one lands on his features. He reaches for your hand and you give it to him, watching him press chapped, dry lips to the back of your palm, and the urge to scrunch your nose at the feeling is almost overwhelming. “It’s so good to see you.”

“And you,” he says, and you drop your hand back to the tablecloth resting on your table. “Can I sit?”

“Of course,” you reply, and he pulls out the empty seat across from you, resting with a soft grunt. “Breakfast ends in a few minutes, though - you’re welcome to have some of mine, if you’re hungry.”

He obliges, reaching to pull your plate to him, and you watch as he picks up your buttered toast, taking a large bite and smacking his lips as he chews. “I was hoping I’d run into you.”

You raise your eyebrows, leaning forward ever so slightly. “And why is that?”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Vincent tells you, and in your earpiece, Harry snorts at his words - you hope you didn’t jump too hard at his sudden noises in your ear. “I hoped I wasn’t getting the wrong idea at dinner, last night -”

“What idea were you getting?”

“That you were interested in me,” and you tilt your head to the side, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth - if Harry could see the act you’re playing right now, you’d be humiliated. At least he can only hear it. “I saw the eyes you were giving me - not even worried ‘bout your husband seeing?”

“He’s too dense to notice,” you say, a smile tilting your lips up as Harry groans - from his side of the earpiece you can hear bustling mixed with the sound of a door opening, and you assume he’s just entered Vincent’s apartment. He needs at least a half hour, Mark had told you - breakfast ends in nearly five minutes, and you need somewhere else to take Carfield. “You know, Vince - is it okay if I call you Vince?”

“I don’t think he cares what you call him,” mumbles Harry, so quiet you’re sure he’s hardly even intending for you to hear it, “as long as you have your hand down his pants in the next ten minutes.”

Your cheeks flush as Vincent smiles, leaning back in his seat as he finishes off your toast. “Call me whatever you want to,” he tells you, and you can practically hear Harry rolling his eyes through your earpiece.

“Alright, Vince - breakfast is ending in a few minutes, and I desperately hope we can keep talking.” He nods along with your words, leaning in as he pushes his plate to the center of the table - all that’s left is the fruit and the remnants of your eggs. “Do you think we could go up to my room? My husband is off visiting some family members across London - he won’t be home for hours.”

“Hours?”

“Hours,” you confirm, nodding as you take another sip of your orange juice - this time you don’t wipe the lipstick stain off of your glass, and you watch his eyes follow the mark as you lower the glass back to the table. “Can we go, Vince?”

Clearly he isn’t thinking clearly enough to question how curious it is that you’d had similar feelings for him without much trouble at all - instead, he smiles like a boy on Christmas morning. He practically knocks the table in his rush to stand up - you watch a red blush creep up his neck to his ears as he grabs it, steadying the wobbling surface, and you pretend you hadn’t noticed when he holds his hand out for you. You allow him to take your hand in his and he pulls you to your feet, wrapping a secure arm around your waist, palm stretched across your hips so his fingertips creep up the hem of your lace shirt.

“Are you going to our room?” questions Harry in your ear, and there’s a few scuffling noises on the other end that makes you internally cringe as Vincent begins weaving the pair of you between tables that are now emptying as complimentary breakfast reaches its end. “____? ‘Y’goin’ t’our room?”

You clear your throat once, and Vincent glances over at you with an amused glance on his face as the two of you make your way out of the restaurant. “Are you okay, darling?”

The pet name makes you cringe internally and you give him a soft smile as you approach the hallway full of elevators, available to take you to any of the available thirteen residential floors of the hotel - Vincent presses the button to go up, and you wait for the doors to open. “I’m great.”

“Make sure he doesn’t want to stop in his room,” Harry mutters, and you swallow, your smile not faltering. You want to tell Harry to make sure he’s completely quiet in his endeavors in Vincent’s room but you’re sure he already knows - you can’t risk Vincent hearing a strange noise while you’re attempting to distract him.

The elevator doors open, and Vincent pulls you inside with a grip on your waist like a vise. He glances at the array of buttons available to press, and looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s floor 13,” you tell him, and he smiles, pressing the button until it glows.

“Floor 13? That’s where I’m staying, too,” he says, and you nod in mock-surprise -

“What a surprise,” Harry snorts in your ear, and you can’t stop the smirk from spreading across your face.

 ~~

 There’s a thick thigh pressed between both of yours, sweaty palms slid beneath your lace top, and you don’t think you’ve ever found a man’s touch less desirable in your  life - and, for whoever may be keeping a record, this job has required you to get up close and personal with more skeevy men that you’d expected when you’d applied.

The only thing keeping a blissed out look on your face is your focus on the soft noises coming from the other end of your earpiece as Vincent lands wet, open-mouthed kisses to your throat, tongue laving over your skin - hearing Harry’s occasional quiet breathing and muffled noises as he searches the hotel room next to yours makes this entirely worth it.

Against your throat, Vincent moans, and the noise is throaty and loud - you can hear Harry stifling a laugh directly into your ear, and the noise sends a chill rolling up your spine. Clearly, Vincent thinks your involuntary movement was for him - his hands grasp on your tits entirely too hard to be pleasurable and you bite back the urge to tell him so. “Such a dirty girl,” he tells you.

You rest your head back against the wall he has you pressed against with a moan that sounds entirely fake from your throat. You can almost imagine how Harry’s going to make fun of this when he sees you next, and your stomach turns when you think about it for a reason you can’t quite decipher. “Fuck,” you say, forcing your voice to a near whine, and you swear you can hear Harry’s voice hitch through your piece but you’re not sure. “Feels - so good.”

The lie sounds natural off of your lips as Vincent’s knee jabs into your clit - the pressure is a pain rather than a pleasure and your breath hitches as you try not to cry out. He chuckles against your skin, clearly taking your soft sign of pain as an emblem of pleasure, and you shut your eyes as his teeth graze the veins in your neck.

“No way,” breathes Harry, and your ears perk up - had he found something in Vincent’s room? “S’he actually good at that?”

You want to snort at that. Of course he isn’t good but the thought of Harry listening spurs you on more than it should - you roll your hips against Vincent’s thigh with a soft moan, higher pitched than your last one, and the man on the other end of your earpiece exhales.

“That sounded fake,” Harry says, voice soft and light, and you want to slam your head into the wall so he knows that he’s starting to piss you off from next door. “So he’s not makin’ y’feel good?”

You practically freeze. If Vincent wasn’t tugging your shirt up to expose your tits to the cold air of your hotel room, you’re sure you would have forgotten where you were completely. Those words from Harry’s mouth mixed with an edge of venom isn’t what you’d expected him to say at all - on the contrary, you’d think he was fucking with you, trying to work you up to embarrass you if you couldn’t hear his little moans that he’s clearly trying to silence.

Is he worked up? Because you can work with that.

You drop your head back to whack against the wall with a loud moan as Vincent’s clammy lips press to the fabric of your bra. Your hand goes up to press to the back of his bald head, fingernails scratching against his sweaty scalp and you wish - not for the first time - that you were feeling thick, chocolate-toned curls beneath your fingers instead, tugging on them as his tongue lavished you. Though, in your mind, it’s more teeth and grit and anger because you’re sure you’d find a way to be angry with Harry even if his mouth were on your tits - it’s one of your special skills - in every fantasy you’ve had of your partner it’s violent and harsh.

“Fuck,” grunts a voice from your earpiece, and hardly a moment later Vincent groans a similar noise as you rock your hips against his thigh. Thankfully he seems to be getting a decent amount of pleasure just making out with your boobs like a teenage boy and - maybe, if Harry is quick enough in his search of his hotel room - you won’t have to fuck him at all. It’ll be a Christmas miracle (a month early, but a miracle nonetheless.) “Are y’fuckin’ him?”

You whimper, Harry’s voice shooting from your ear directly down to your cunt and your clit and you feel wetness soaking your knickers, pressed against Vincent’s thigh though it may as well be the arm of a couch for how it affects you - the only pleasure you get from Vincent’s hard body against yours is the urge to close your eyes and imagine it’s Harry.

“No, you’re not,” says Harry, and there’s a soft clatter in your earpiece - surely he’s dropped something from the room next door and you tense. Surely Vincent hadn’t heard it, teeth still gnashing against your bra, and he seems too distracted to pay attention to it. “M’hard as a fuckin’ rock, ____ - thinkin’ of you, gettin’ off on my voice, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you exhale, and Vincent glances up at you, thick brows furrowed in confusion. You swallow, focusing on giving yourself a satisfied expression, and he turns back to your chest, seemingly convinced of your pleasure. “Yes - making me feel so good.”

Harry groans in your ear, and you wonder, suddenly, if he’s jerking off - if he’s leaning against Vincent Carfield’s bed, hand pumping up and down his cock as he listens to you. Maybe he’s in the bathroom, or leaning against the wall like you are, his breathing picking up as sweat drips down his forehead - 

“Gonna fuck you,” Vincent mumbles against your boobs, and you scrunch your nose. “Want me to fuck you?”

“Just -” you swallow, and Harry snickers in your ear, the soft laugh breathy and groaning. “Just wait, feels so good -”

“Don’t fuck him,” says Harry, and there’s a few more jostling noises on the other end mixed with another soft moan - you have a sudden image of him, digging through Vincent Carfield’s possessions with a firm hand around his cock and you feel the result of that imagery stricken straight down to your clit like a fucking lightning bolt until you’re crying out, and your orgasm is on you so embarrassingly fast you could sob in embarrassment. “I’m almost there -”

You’re not sure if he means he’s almost about to cum or if he’s almost found something to convict Vincent - you’re not entirely sure which interpretation you’d prefer. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you breathe, the words sour on your tongue as Vincent glances up at you with a wicked smile, jolting his thigh further up into your clit, and you furrow your eyebrows at the pain the motion brings. “Fuck, H - Vincent.”

“Y’were gonna say m’name,” Harry hisses, and you squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassment coursing through your veins. You almost fucked everything up. “Cum. Let Vincent think he made y’cum - go ahead - do it.”

And - fuck. Who are you to disobey? You grind your core down on Vincent’s thigh with a throaty cry, and your orgasm rushes over you with an embarrassing waterfall of pleasure and shame. Never have you cum so easily and it wasn’t even Harry’s touch - simply his voice, his groans as he listens to you come undone - and, in the end, the only thing to pull you from your high is Vincent’s eyes boring into yours, eyebrows raised and lips parted as he pulls his face from your chest with a most satisfied expression on his face.

You want to smack it off of him - if you hadn’t already cum, that look would’ve stopped you in your tracks. As it is, it slows the aftershocks of your release into dull nothingness while Harry moans in your earpiece, his noises a mere backdrop to the sudden growing sounds of scuffling and jostling, and his sharp gasp is loud enough for Vincent’s head to snap up.

“Did you hear that?” Vincent questions - Harry curses into your earpiece.

“I found something,” Harry tells you, voice dropped to a low whisper. “I found - s’under his mattress - m’calling Mark!”

A small smile spreads across your face at his words. It’s done. He’s found something worthy enough to convict Vincent Carfield, and that’s enough for you to press your palms to his chest, pushing him away from you so forcefully that he stumbles over the carpet, back slamming into the edge of your bed as he falls to the ground. His expression is so confuddled as he stares up at you that, for a moment, you marvel at his lack of self awareness - in an instant you’re reaching up the hem of your skirt to the knife in its holder strapped to your thigh, and you pull the blade out to point at Vincent Carfield, in your ear a myriad of Harry’s delighted cheers of, “I’ve found it!”

 ~~

 Wrapping up a mission isn’t nearly as speedy as you’d like - there’s debriefs and paperwork to complete once Vincent is done and arrested, phone confiscated along with the drugs found in his hotel room by your partner, and physical evaluations to determine whether you’d been hurt, and a long phone call with Mark where he congratulated the pair of you.

Not only for taking down Vincent Carfield, your boss had said, his voice booming and cheerful, but for making it out without killing each other.

If only he knew.

Your plane is set to leave tomorrow morning at the crack of dawn, and if you were more reasonable perhaps you’d heade Mark’s advice to go straight to sleep and set an alarm for 3 AM but you’ve never been too bright in that regard. You finish your last debrief in the hotel restaurant, Harry working diligently beside you, and it’s at nearly 9 PM that the pair of you pack up your work and begin to head upstairs.

The elevator ride is silent when Harry reaches to press the button for your floor. Your room had been closed for you to visit for the better part of the afternoon until Vincent’s had been properly searched, though Harry had gladly given the authorities everything he’d found without a moment of hesitation. Tiredness creaks at your bones but here - standing beside Harry, feeling his gaze boring into the side of your face - you desire nothing less than to go to sleep.

“Good work, Mr. Robinson,” you tell him, and he raises his eyebrows when you turn your head to look at him. “Fairly easy mission, wasn’t it?”

“For you,” he says, and you arch your eyebrow, frown tugging your lips downwards as the elevator begins to move up. “Gettin’ off on Vincent’s thigh was the hardest part - I had t’search the room.”

For a moment you wonder if he’s kidding and certainly he’s only teasing you but you still roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest as heat creeps up your cheeks. “Didn’t seem too difficult, moaning and crying ‘bout how hard you were. I bet I could’ve found the drugs in half the time it took you -”

“You couldn’t have,” Harry says, and you exhale sharply. 

“‘Course I could -”

“Wasn’t hidden in plain sight like everything you find.”

“So where were they?”

He pauses, and you smile down at your shoes - surely you’ve got him now. “Hidden in his computer,” Harry says, then, and your smile is wiped away in an instant. Shit, you wouldn’t have found them. “Not so smart now, are you?”

“Oh, you dick -”

The elevator doors open to your floor and Harry pushes himself off the wall, stalking out of the elevator and you jump to follow him, picking up the pace to walk beside him as he begins down the hall towards your hotel room. It’s entirely too easy, falling back into an arrangement of bickering with him as though nothing had happened - as though you hadn’t cum with his voice alone, and you’re nearly positive that he had, too.

He stops in front of your hotel door, digging in the pockets of his pants for the room key, and you cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t know why you’re actin’ so high and mighty,” he tells you, voice biting as he shoves the key card into the door’s slot - it beeps red, and he tries again. “As f’you didn’t cream your fucking pants jus’ listenin’ t’my voice.”

“I’m not acting high and mighty,” you retort, praying the burning sensation in your face isn’t visible to him but you doubt you’re that lucky. “You don’t have to be such a douche all the time - and, by the way, you came in your pants, too, didn’t you.”

It’s not a question, and Harry flings the door open, letting you walk in before he follows. In an instant, before you can march into the bedroom area to huff at how pissed he’s getting you - it is what he’s best at - there’s a tight grip on your wrist, turning you around so fast your head spins, and before you can object, Harry has you pressed against the door, hands caging you in on either side of your head.

His face is so close to yours you can smell the alcohol on his breath that he’d had while you two worked, mixed with the scent of his mint toothpaste and his shampoo, curls dropping into your face as he wedges his leg between both of yours, thigh pressed against your cunt. It’s just as Vincent had done but so different, so much better, and it tears a whine out of your throat right off the bat.

Your urge is to lean in, clash your lips together in a fury of tongue and teeth but you don’t want to make the first move - Harry can take the lead and you’ll follow, and that’s more than enough for you. So you simply drop your head back, breathing heavy as you stare into his eyes, nearly cross-eyed to meet his gaze. 

“Fuck you,” you tell him, and the words lack the venom you’d yearned for. It’s filled with more desperation and neediness than you’d anticipated, and you feel your stomach flip-flop at the smirk that spreads across Harry’s face. “Fuck you.”

His hands drop from against your head and for a moment you fear he’s going to pull away, that he’s doing this just to fuck with you but then his hands are on your legs, fingertips dancing up and down your outer thighs, fingering the hem of your skirt, and you jolt under him. “You’re so responsive,” he tells you, and you roll your eyes, dropping your head back against the door. “I love getting y’worked up.”

“Shut up,” you groan, feeling his fingers working your skirt up your legs, and the fabric brushes over the edge of your knife, still fastened to your thigh. 

“Like makin’ y’angry.”

“Shut up,” and finally Harry leans in, mouth slamming against yours until your teeth grind against his and your lips part with a shocked gasp. His tongue slips between your lips, your hands reaching up to bury in his curls and hold his face to yours. His palm slides up your thighs, pushing your skirt up around your waist and your cheeks burn as the cold hotel room air assaults your skin, goosebumps popping up in their wake. You whimper into Harry’s lips and he pulls away, palms smoothing up and down your thighs before you feel his fingers hook against the top of your knife, and he tugs the blade out of your holster.

You watch with wary eyes as Harry brings the blade up to his eyes, examining it with narrowed eyes, his other hand still resting on your thigh, fingertips rubbing circles into your skin harsh enough that you’re sure you’ll find bruises tomorrow in the shape of his hands. Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch him and his eyes turn to yours, smile tugging his lip up.

“Y’look a bit excited, there,” Harry says - an acute observation, because you’re practically creaming your fucking panties. “Like seein’ me with your knife?”

“Yes,” you breathe, and Harry flips the knife in his hands until the blade is just an inch from the spot between both of your eyes, your orbs crossing to see it. “What are you -”

Before you can finish the question Harry presses the knife forward, the sharp edge of the plate pressed to your cheek, and you inhale sharply, swallowing thickly as he increases pressure against your skin. Fuck, this shouldn’t excite you - he’s not half as good as you are with blades - and you’re sure if he keeps going he’s going to slice you either by accident or on purpose, and it disturbs you how much that thought turns you on.

The blade drags down your skin, tracing along your jawline with pressure light enough to feel like a breath and hard enough to catch yours in your throat - Harry’s watching it with darkened eyes, watching as he lowers it down your throat, tracing it along your neck and the veins.

You drop your head back against the door with a thud, feeling the cool metal on your skin, sweaty from being pressed against him and the heat that encompasses your body until it’s all you can feel, and Harry’s just watching, watching the knife run across your skin.

Your eyes, fluttered shut, shoot open when a sudden burning sensation overtakes the top of your chest - you glance down to see Harry pulling the knife away from you, the tip decorated with just a smudge of dark, red liquid that’s mirrored on your collarbone.

“Did you -?”

“Oops,” Harry says as you bring your fingers to the small nick he’d given you, wiping away the drops of blood that spread on your chest. You raise your narrowed eyes to glare at him and you’re trying - trying so hard - to be furious with him, to get angry, to push him away and yell at him - but, fuck, feeling his thumb rub across the cut on your chest only increases the ball of pressure in your lower abdnomen as you look at him.

Your lips clash once more, more intense than before as you whine into his mouth - Harry’s free hand hoists your thigh around his waist, and when his lips move down to bite at your throat, the hand still clutching your knife pulls back before he slams the blade into the door next to you, surely taking a few of your stray hairs. You yelp, jolting your head back as you whip your head to the side to stare at the knife stuck in the door barely an inch from the side of your head, and Harry lifts his head with a smirk.

“You assho -”

Before you can finish Harry’s hand is wrapped around your throat, cutting off your ability to speak and you can’t help but moan at the pressure even if the noise is choked and gasping - Harry grins, moving his other hand down to your hips until he’s helping you to roll against his thigh, clit rubbing against the fabric of his pants. You tighten your thigh’s hold around his waist, pressing his torso closer to yours, and he, in turn, tightens his grasp on your neck.

“Y’like m’hand on your throat, hmm?” Harry questions, voice low and raspy like how it had been in the middle of the night except more, better and intense, and you whimper in affirmation. “Can’t even talk - can’t even say anything.”

When he finally loosens his hold on you, you gasp for air and bring your arm up to wrap around his neck again, fingers scraping through his scalp to tug his lips back to yours. Your other hand drops to the front of his pants, palm smoothing over his bulging erection before your shaky fingers begin tugging his zipper down.

“Can I tell you something?” says Harry, then, as you fumble to undo the button of his pants until you can shove your hand into the fabric, fingernails dragging along his cock through his boxers - his hips jolt into your hands.

“Yes,” you murmur in response, hand jerking up and down his dick and, even through a layer of fabric, he grunts into your lips.

“I didn’t cum,” he says, and you move your head from his, furrowing your eyebrows. “Didn’t cum, even when I heard y’with Vincent -”

“You -?”

“Didn’t wanna cum when I wasn’t buried in your cunt,” and you gasp sharply as his hand on your throat slides down your body until it’s shoved into your panties, cold fingertips dragging along your soaking folds that drip your ambrosia into his grasp. “Even f’you sounded so good, moanin’ for me - almost pathetic -”

You tighten your grip on his hair until he’s crying out, fingertips pinching your clit in your panties and you jerk your hips into his grasp at the sharp punishment. “Don’t call me that -” you moan, trembling hand pulling his boxers down over his cock while he smirks.

“Pathetic -”

“Fuck you, Harry -”

“Whimperin’ like a baby -”

You move your hand from his hair to his face, grip bruising as you grab his chin in your palm. Your fingertips squeeze his cheek as you force his head to stare at you - the lazy, cocky smile that adorns his features makes you want to throttle him, and your fingers flex against his face.

“What?” Harry questions, tone mocking and it fuels the anger in every crevice of your body as you glare at him. “Gonna hit me?”

Yes, you want to say - before you can even open your mouth, though, Harry leans in, teeth nibbling on your earlobe as he exhales, his words low and breathy, “Do it.”

Who are you to disobey him?

You bring your hand back and smack it down on his cheek with a satisfying slap that reverberates through your hotel room. His head is slapped to the side, exposing his side profile to you, and you smooth your palm over the red mark already blooming on his cheek in the shape of your handprint.

“You like to be hit, do you?” you inquire - for a moment, just a second, you feel some semblance of control over the situation, wrapping your fist around his cock once you’ve pulled his boxers down over his length. He hisses, dropping his head back, lips parted in a silent cry when your thumb sweeps over the weeping tip of his cock, precum dripping down his member. “Never would’ve guessed.”

And you do it again, bringing your hand up to slap his face and it tugs a louder grunt from his mouth, pressing his body further into yours until all you can feel is him, chests pressed together and cock rubbing against your cunt through the fabric of your lace panties. You bring your hand back to give him another slap but then his fingers are pulling your drenched knickers to the side, bulbous tip of his cock nudging through your folds for only a split second before he pushes himself inside of you, sheathing the entirety of his length until he bottoms out, balls pressed tight against your skin.

You can’t help but sob out. It’s, really, not your fault - you can tell how it spurs him on, but before he can keep fucking you like how you’ve dreamt of he’s pulling out completely, taking a half a step away from you, cock tall and leaking. The emptiness you feel is overwhelming, even if you’d only had him in you for a few seconds at best, and objections immediately rise in your throat.

“What the fu -?”

Then he’s grabbing your throat, using his grip as leverage to force you around, cheek smushed against the wooden door frame and back pressed to his chest. His palms smooth up and down the globes of your ass, pulling the cheeks apart until the pressure burns and you throw your head back with a cry. Then he pulls his hand back - lands it back against your ass with a cracking slap that makes you jump against him - and he doesn’t give you a second to beg him to fucking do it again before he’s sliding his cock back into your folds.

“Fuck,” he practically shouts, the noise crackling and broken with arousal practically dripping from the syllable, and you drop your forehead against the door with a cry. “Fuck, so tight - knew y’would be -”

“Move, please,” you beg, tone sobbing and desperate, and Harry obliges without another second to spare - pulls out and thrusts back in, pace brutal and desperate right off the bat until you’re quivering, legs trembling when he’s only been going for a half a minute.

Oh my god. Holy fuck, it feels so good, better than you could’ve ever pictured it, his hand smoothing over your ass before landing periodic slaps to the plump skin - his hand landing on you hardly overpowers the sound of his hips smacking against your ass, filling you until you’re crying for it before leaving you empty and diving back in. You can’t do much else other than stand there on quivering legs that feel incapable of handling your weight and take it, pushing your hips back into his with every thrust until you’ve worked yourselves into a rhythm that makes your fucking head spin.

“Harry -” you gasp as he grabs hold of your hips, pulling them upwards until his cock is slamming into the sweet spot buried inside of your walls that makes you sob out, cheek slamming into the door over and over with the force of his pounding. “Harry - God -”

“What?” he practically hisses, the word full of desire and contempt in the most delicious way possible, and your knees would give out if not for his bruising grip on your hips, keeping you flush against him. 

“Har - choke me, please, want you to - to choke me -”

He stutters a groan at that, moving one of his hands from your hips - he delivers one hard smack to your ass before he’s trailing his hand up your back and around to the front of your throat, squeezing your neck once experimentally just to hear the way you moan at it before he tightens his grasp. Your resulting whimper is caught in your throat, pressing your palms to the door you’re leant up against as Harry just fucking laughs from behind you, thrusting himself into you like he was fucking born for it.

“You’re fuckin’ filthy,” Harry says, then, and he almost sounds in awe as he squeezes your throat tighter, tight enough that your vision goes fuzzy and your head feels light. “So filthy - knew y’would be - an’ so - so - fuckin’ - tight -”

With every word he punctuates his meaning with a particularly hard thrust into your cunt, and the hand on your hip slithers around your body until he’s pressing two fingertips to your clit, rubbing shaking, hard circles against the sensitive nub that has you jolting, arms shaking as you attempt to keep yourself up. “Oh my god,” you practically cry, and the voice sounds far away as he briefly releases his hold on your throat - a firm slap is delivered to the side of your face as you’d given him, the motion forcing your head to the side, and you sob out harder. “Fuck - do it again, please -”

He obeys you, bringing his palm back to slap your cheek again before he wraps his hand back around your throat. “M’gonna cum,” he tells you, words throaty and laced with neediness - you push your hips back against his, a loud, long whine bursting from your throat as his fingers never give up on their assault to your clit. “M’gonna fill y’up - y’want that?”

“Yes!”

“Want me t’fill you up?”

“Yes, Harry, please -!” You come undone around his cock just as his hips stutter to a close - there’s a ball of pleasure that bursts in your core, spreading warmth and euphoria through your body like a wildfire attacks a forest. Your forehead slams against the door with a moan that borders on a scream, nails scratching against the wood as though searching for something to hold onto, to ground yourself, because surely you’re far away - in fucking space - because there’s no way on Earth you could feel this good.

Behind you, Harry’s hand on your clit wraps around your waist, holding your body taut to his as you feel him spurt ribbons of cum inside of you, his release filling you up and it only prolongs yours, aftershocks rolling through you mixed with his warmth spreading through your body. His head drops against the back of yours, breath ruffling the hairs at the back of your neck, and when you finally regain the ability to breathe you’re fucking heaving, gasping for air, the once-simple process labored and desperate.

“Fuck,” Harry groans, and then he pulls out of you - you can feel his cum beginning to trickle down your inner thighs, and that mixed with the sudden emptiness in your cunt makes you exhale a low whine. Your pussy flutters around the sudden air invading it, the loss of a certain appendage filling you up glaringly obvious, and you slump against the door. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, and your knees are shaking when Harry unwraps his arm from around your waist, leaving you to fend for yourself as you try and steady your body. “Fuck.”

You hear, then, Harry walking away - surely stalking deeper into your room, perhaps lying on the bed, kicking off his shoes and beginning to tug off his shirt. You feel sudden embarrassment and heat coursing through your body as you tug the bottom of your skirt down over your ass and the tops of your thighs, walking on shaking legs into the bedroom area of your hotel room -

(Your knife can stay in the door until morning. It is, for all intents and purposes, the least of your priorities when you can’t even think straight.)

Harry’s eyes are on you when you make your way into the bedroom section, leaning up against the doorframe to hide the quivering in your legs, and you hope it looks decently natural but you’re sure it doesn’t, judging by the way his lips tremble upwards as he glances down at the shoe he’s focused on untying.

“I’m gonna shower first,” you tell him. Your throat burns with the energy of speaking after screaming your lungs out and your voice is crackling and raspy - you cough into your elbow, hoping it makes your voice sound a bit less fucked-out than it is, but you’re sure you’re not that lucky.

“Fine by me,” Harry says, kicking his sneakers off onto the ground, and he collapses onto his back onto the bed with a sigh. His pants are still undone and are pushed down his thighs, boxers pulled up over his cock, and you feel - decidedly strange, watching him post-coital, at the way his eyes shut, limbs spreading out over the mattress with a grunt. “M’takin’ the bed, though.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “What -?”

“Y’can hardly walk from how hard I fucked you. I think I deserve it.”

And - well - you can’t quite argue with that logic.

~~

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[mercy-burning]

Your Favorite — Part 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Y/N and Spencer decide to keep seeing each other in secret. Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, cockwarming, heavy petting, penetrative/unprotected sex, breeding kink, oral sex (both receiving), degradation, exhibitionism, fingering, cum play maybe? Word Count: 7.5k

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

NOTE: This is... *nervous laugh* this is pure filth. Like... It’s nothing but sex scenes, y’all. Buckle in. (Also the end is a lil angsty so watch out hehehe)

———

JULY 8th

"You're sure you guys are okay without me for a little while?"

I love my mom. Really, I do.

But if she delays her bath for any longer than one more second, I'm going to burst into flames.

Thankfully it seems that Spencer is patient enough for the both of us. "Positive. You deserve to relax a little. Go. Take your bath, we'll be fine."

Mom looks to me for extra reassurance, and I give it to her with a nod.

"Okay. I'll try not to be too long."

She turns and kisses Spencer, long and lovesick, and I want to barf. What's even worse is that when she pulls away and pats my head before retreating up the stairs, he's smiling. And he's supposed to, I know that. Part of him obviously cares about my mom, and even if he's only fucking me on the side, the fact remains that he goes to sleep next to her. That's the way it has to be.

But it still makes me incredibly envious.

It's a problem.

Mom is upstairs now, but our rule is that unless we know for certain that she's not coming into sight or earshot anytime soon, we remain distant.

Still, I make my distaste for their affections known. "You guys are gross..."

Spencer laughs, his hand sneaking over the couch cushion and grazing the end of my skirt. "Jealous, are we?"

Of course, I have to make it difficult for him. "You're a genius, you tell me..."

"Hey now... You're lucky I'm giving you any attention at all... Besides, you know the rules."

I glance over at him, practically crumbling apart at the seams under his intense gaze. It's one I've gotten used to as of late, one that rivals every smile I've ever seen him give my mother.

"Doesn't make it any easier," I mumble, glancing down at where his fingers are still toying with my skirt.

"I know..." He reaches out and touches my hand, and my skin tingles. "Come here."

Even though I can hear that the bath water has only just started running from below, I comply all the same. I scramble off the couch and return on his lap, straddling him and nesting my fingers through his hair while I lean in to kiss him.

He welcomes me with open arms and an open mouth. The moment our tongues brush, I sigh and melt into him, needing desperately to be as close as possible. Our kisses then are languid and wet, and soft. We don't want to get carried away in case we need to be alert and jump apart, so it's best to keep our bodies controlled.

But as I'm learning, around Spencer, controlling myself is painstakingly difficult.

A whine escapes me when his right hand slips under my skirt and rests along the inside of my thigh, and I shift, silently begging him to give me more.

"So impatient..." he mumbles over my mouth.

I pull away and slide my hands down over his neck and shoulders, my hips rolling forward as I pout. "I haven't had you all week. I'm lonely..."

It's true.

Once all my STD tests came back clean and I got my birth control figured out and solid, the first thing he did was tell my mom he wasn't feeling well and texted me the address to his apartment. And after I told her I was meeting up with a friend, I drove over there and got my brains completely fucked out. We spent all day under the sheets, on the couch, over the kitchen counter, and then on the floor, until I had to go home and pretend like it never happened.

Since then we'd only slept together once, and that was just over a week ago, quickly while Mom ran to the store for an onion of all things. And then Spencer had been busy with consulting on new cases that his old job wanted a little help with, and once he had free time, Mom insisted they go on a date weekend.

I pout harder, stomach churning at the memory of the look he gave me before they left—a silent, sweet goodbye that had left me empty and wanting.

But he's just amused.

A smirk ghosts over his lips, red and a little puffy from the pressure of my own against them. "So I definitely can't trust you to be quiet enough to fuck you properly..."

That warrants another whine and another roll of my hips, and I can feel his hand gripping my thigh a little tighter.

"Please... Spencer, I need you..."

His name rolling off my tongue must be what makes him give into me, because I barely have time to react before he's kissing me again, using both of his hands to lift the back of my skirt up and knead my ass.

"Wait... Are you wearing..."

I grin over his lips, wiggling my ass into his touch and utterly turned on by the fact that he knows what underwear I'm wearing just by touch.

"Mhmm," I answer, nipping his bottom lip. "Your favorite..."

The sound that rumbles in his chest as he crashes his body against mine has to be the sexiest thing I've ever heard. He's obviously trying not to be loud, but it's hard, and that makes the sound strained. He really wants this, wants to keep me, and to do that he has to refrain from going absolutely primal right now. He has to do anything to keep this quiet.

So he pushes me off of him, and I pout, thinking he's given up until we can get a true moment alone.

But I know that isn't the case when he spins his finger and then starts undoing his pants.

"Turn around, sweetheart," he huffs, slipping his pants and underwear down just enough that his erection emerges free. "You're gonna sit here, keep quiet, and keep my cock nice and warm, understood?"

Don't have to tell me twice... I'll fucking take what I can get.

So I spin, back up, and move all my clothing to the side, my skirt lifting as I nestle into Spencer's lap and hold my panties to the side. He laughs at my eagerness, though he isn't laughing much longer once I sink down onto him and get in real close. His hands come out to grab my chest and pull me flush against his own.

The way he stretches and fills me has my eyes rolling back, a long, happy sigh falling from my lips. I wish I could say I'm being dramatic about it, but I'm really not.

I'm genuinely relieved and satisfied with the burn.

"There's my girl," Spencer muses through a sigh of his own, his breath fanning gently over my neck right before he gives it an open-mouthed kiss.

His hands slip under the baggy sweater I'm wearing and run along the planes of my stomach, then up and up, taking the fabric with him until it rests above my bare chest. Being exposed like this, right in the middle of the living room while my mom is just upstairs, excites me more than I think it should.

While Spencer kisses and licks at my neck, his hands now gently kneading my breasts, I squirm.

He doesn't like that very much.

"Ah-ah," he warns, squeezing me tight and pulling me into him more. "Relax..."

He hooks his legs around mine then, spreading them apart and somehow filling me deeper. I whine, leaning my head back onto his shoulder and trying not to roll my hips.

Instead, I settle for clenching myself around him, and that seems to be the right move.

"Atta girl... Lay back and relax... Just feel me filling you up nice and slow..."

"Mmmm," I respond in kind as his hands loosen and glide down my body.

He's light with his touch, though the kisses on my neck feel hungry, and his cock feels heavy and thick inside me. It's a beautiful contrast, really, making me feel so full and yet so light, like I'm a raincloud.

Soon his fingers dip under my skirt and cover my hand, which is working at keeping my panties off to the side. He traces the curves of my fingers with his own, mumbling praises and scattering kisses along the side of my neck. And I'm distracted enough that I almost don't feel his other hand make gentle contact with my clit until I gasp from the sharp sensation.

I can feel his smile against my skin as he starts rubbing in slow, precise circles.

"That feel good, princess?"

"Uh huh," I breathe out, trying to keep still. My other hand digs into my knee in hopes that I can stay grounded and focused on keeping still. But despite that, I'm feeling rather calm. Satisfied...

Right where he wants me.

"Mmm..." He hums happily into my skin, continuing to kiss my neck while working my clit.

And I have no idea how long we lay there. It feels like it could be hours.

The TV is on, but we're not paying any attention to it. In the back of my mind I know that Mom could be done with her bath at any minute, but it's been too long without Spencer inside me... And even though he's not actually fucking me, just having him this close and feeling him touch me, fill me, breathe me in...

God, I never want it to stop.

I'm almost on the verge of coming, but he removes his hand from me and slides them up my stomach again.

I whine at the loss of orgasm, but he pays it no mind. "Here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna start moving..."

I start to get excited, wiggling in his lap a little.

With a dark laugh, he brings his hands to my breasts, kneading them gently and nipping my earlobe. Getting my attention...

"But you're not gonna stop until I fill that slutty little cunt with my cum, got it? I don't care if you come more than once. I don't care if you come at all... I don't care if your mom comes down here and sees..."

I swear I almost come on the spot from his words alone.

And then his voice is somehow even darker, seeping through my skin and settling into the very deepest parts of me.

"You will not stop until you make me come, am I clear?"

I wouldn't deny him if I could. I'm so damn whipped by this man, so eager to please and be near him that he could ask me to do any fucking thing on the planet and I would.

My rational brain might have second-guessed that feeling if it hadn't been horny as fuck...

And so I get to it, maneuvering my hips and working Spencer's cock like my life depends on it. And honestly, it kind of does, because if my mother comes down and catches us I'm dead.

Despite the urgency, though, I relish every second of it. I try to remember every sensation vividly because I don't know when I'll get to feel it again. So every time I sit back down on his dick, I clench it on the way up, because I know that drives him wild and it also means I get to feel him grab me tighter.

I can't see him, not even really when I turn my head, but I can picture how he's probably biting his lip, trying not to be loud. His eyes are probably shooting daggers at the ceiling, praying to the heavens above that my mom won't come down.

But it looks like the heavens above have decided to damn us to hell.

That unmistakable sound of the drain in the tub rumbles through the ceiling and down the inside of the walls as the water travels through the pipes, and my heartbeat races faster than it ever has.

Spencer tugs my hair then, pulling my head to meet his shoulder once more. "You better hurry, little girl..."

That's when I finally come. My cunt throbs and shakes around him as I bounce as quietly as I can. His grip in my hair is tighter, urging me to keep going, and the sharp sensation seems to extend my orgasm a little.

I whimper and whine as I feel it, and that seems to be what does him in.

"Fuck, Y/N, that's it... That's my girl..."

Four more bounces from me is all it takes, and then he's holding my hips in place. He grunts as quietly as possible into my shoulder and fucks into me slowly, filling me to the brim with his cum and breathing harshly into my skin.

I can hear Mom walking around upstairs, most likely getting dressed, which means she'll be down any minute...

"Time to get up, princess," Spencer whispers a moment later, letting go of my hips.

I turn my head into his neck, whining. "I don'wanna..."

"I know, I know... But you have to."

I know he's right. But I can't just get up and lose him so quickly. I want to hold on for as long as possible.

So I tilt my head up and bring his lips to mine. Thankfully he doesn't reject me, instead returning my affections and sighing into my mouth. He's still sheathed inside me, and I can feel his cum very slowly starting to drip down.

I have to get up now...

My mouth reluctantly parts from his and pouts. I expect him to return it with a sad smile, but his lips are rather mischievous.

He smirks, lifting me off of him and quickly pulling my panties back in place. His cum instantly soaks into the thin, lavender fabric, and it only reminds me of his absence.

But then Spencer spins me around on the heels of my feet and presses his hand firmly to my clothed, sopping wet cunt under my skirt, rubbing it in and making me whimper out at the overstimulation.

"I missed you," he whispers sincerely. Sweetly...

I can't help but smile as I lean down to kiss him one more time.

"I missed you, too."

JULY 23rd

I've been looking forward to this weekend since Mom brought it up after her bath—A call from work. A weekend business trip across the country.

She would be gone for almost a whole week.

Spencer's already started on his coursework for the next school year so he'll be busy most days, but at night? That's when he's all mine.

The only hard part about this, really, is containing my excitement. Just yesterday Spencer got me alone and warned me that I better keep my cool and be patient. Though, the way he said it was hardly a bad thing considering it gave me an excuse to feel his hands on me, even in the laundry room where, more or less, this had all started.

Even now I can still feel their warmth and their heft as they grope and paw at my breasts while he attacks my neck with sloppy kisses.

But right now he's not here, and as much as I can't wait to spend the week with him, my mom is also going to be gone for that long.

Just because I'm fucking her boyfriend on a regular basis doesn't mean I don't still love her.

Though, the thought of it all makes me a little uneasy—I don't know what the future holds. I know Spencer obviously cares about my mom, but if it really gets to a point where they've been together long enough, would he ever marry her?

And then what?

It's one thing for him to be my mom's boyfriend, who doesn't live here and only stays when he can... But it's a whole other one to be my stepfather. And what if my mom wants to have another kid?

No.

I'm not even going to think about it... If it ever gets to that point, then we'll deal with it, but right now I've only known Spencer for nearly 2 months, and it's way too soon to be thinking about any of that right now.

"You gonna be alright without me for a week?"

I curl into Mom's side, laughing and thankful for her distraction. "I spend almost a whole year away at college without you, I think I can survive five days."

"Ugh, don't remind me. I wish you could just stay here with me forever."

"Ha, no you don't. I'm a menace."

"Only when you eat all my food and then complain that you're starving..."

My eyes roll affectionately. "Mom. That was one time, and I was fifteen and dramatic."

She kisses the top of my head and then rests her chin on it. "Then my point stands... You were only a menace when you were fifteen. Now you're an angel."

I can tell she's sincere, and when I tell her Thank you, it feels incredibly deceitful—Especially when she starts humming my favorite song and brushing through my hair with her fingers, just like she used to do to get me to sleep as a kid. The foggy feeling it sends through my bloodstream reminds me that I'm definitely not the same person I was back then.

Although, it is true that some things never change, and within minutes I'm soundly asleep in my mother's arms.

———

When Spencer and I are sending her off at the airport the next morning, my heart thrums wildly in my chest.

"You have Spencer's number in case of an emergency?" she asks me in a haste.

"Yes, Mom. For the thousandth time, I have his number, and I have Grandma's number, and I have just about every other number you've ever given me for emergency contacts."

She gives me The Look.

"Yes, I have it. And I'll be okay. I love you."

"Oh, I love you, too," she says, pulling me in for one last breath-reducing hug, though, that's not truly what knocks the breath from my lungs.

She goes to Spencer next, reaching up to give him a goodbye kiss. I'm expecting it. I'm okay with it.

But this is unlike any other kiss I've seen them share, and it admittedly makes me jealous.

Spencer almost has her off the ground, pressing her close to him and kissing her deeply. Her hands weave through his hair as he tilts his head, and this time I can see his tongue slip into her mouth.

"O—kaaay, my eyes are burning... Thank you for that..."

I know I can get away with that because it's a completely normal reaction to seeing your mother make out with anyone, so I don't feel bad about it one bit. And I especially don't feel bad about the warning look he gives me over my mom's shoulder when she comes to give me another hug.

But then she's gone, and minutes later we're leaving the airport parking lot, and I can't seem to shake my jealousy. Even when his hand rests politely on my knee.

The whole way home I only barely acknowledge his presence, giving him half-hearted smiles and remaining mostly still when he glides his hand higher up my leg. By the time his fingers slip under the hem of my skirt, I think he knows something is up, because it stops there.

He waits until we get in the house to bring it up.

"Y/N, are you okay?"

I plop myself down on the couch with an overexaggerated sigh. "Kinda..."

I know Spencer used to be a profiler, and really, it's not that hard to figure out what's wrong with me. But it's still a little scary how easily he just knows.

"You know I had to," he says, walking over and standing in front of me. "Keeping up appearances and whatnot."

He's right. And it's a consequence of what we've decided to do, so really I'm in no place to complain.

Still, I reach out and pull him in by the belt loops, leaning my face in rather close to his crotch. "You know... Actually, I think you just like making me jealous..."

The smile that dances over his lips is amused and downright sinful. "Oh?"

"Mhmm," I drawl, sliding my hands to the front of his pants and rubbing him through the fabric.

He laughs. "Yeah, you are pretty cute when you're all huffy."

With big eyes and a fluttering in my stomach at the way he looks down at me, I feel that pressing of jealousy start to lift off my chest. I know that within an hour he'll have me pinned under his body somehow, and the thought allows my response to come out clearly and without question.

"So how are you gonna make it up to me?"

———

We're already out of our clothes by the time we make it upstairs. And when we finally get into my bedroom, I'm about to shut the door and then Spencer stops me.

"No one's home, sweetheart... Leave it open."

He takes two steps and has me in his arms, his hands sliding down my back and resting over my ass. And when he gives it a squeeze, he grins down at me. "You're gonna be loud for me, understand?"

"Hey, that's on you," I tease, wiggling against him. "You want me loud? Make me loud."

His grip on my ass gets tighter as he pulls me closer, and I yelp out. "Don't challenge me, little girl... You'll regret it."

I laugh then, calling back to his earlier statement. "Aw... You're pretty cute when you're all huffy..."

"Alright, fine."

The next thing I know, I'm on my knees, and his hands are rooting in my hair. The rough carpet underneath me already burns, but I know in the end it's gonna be so worth it.

Spencer brings me close to his exposed crotch and tilts my head up to look at him. "I'm gonna fuck that attitude right out of your pretty little mouth, got it? And you're not gonna do a damn thing but take it like a good girl."

I would have asked him if that was a threat or a promise if he hadn't immediately shoved his dick in my mouth. It has me wet in an instant, the way he just pulls me onto him and starts fucking my face with an urgency that seems to contradict all the time we have. He needs me now, with no time for teasing or pleasantries, and I fucking love it.

Which is why I do as I'm told, enjoying every second as he holds my head still and snaps his hips forward, his velvety smooth cock gliding over my tongue and down my throat with ease. It doesn't take long for my eyes to water, my vision going blurry and my body growing hot. My face is angled straight ahead, but I still find a way to look up at him, and from this low angle?

It's the best thing I've ever seen.

No matter how many times I've been on my knees like this, staring up at Spencer as he loses himself at my hands (or rather my mouth, if you want to get technical), I swear I could never tire of it.

His eyes are glaring down at me as he concentrates, his arms are out in front of me as they hold my head in place, and his pubic bone and sculpted hips are right there, moving ferociously in front of my eyes. He's so deep in my throat for a few seconds, holding me down while I gag around him, that my nose is buried in the soft trail of hair that gathers on his skin, and I want to stay there forever.

But my gag reflex isn't much durable for more than fifteen seconds, much less forever, so I have to pull back.

Spencer pulls me off of him completely, a trail of spit following my lips and then detaching until it lands along my chin. I blink away some of the tears that had gathered in my eyes and pout up at him.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?"

"You're supposed to be making it up to me..." My voice is scratchy and a little hoarse now, but I know it'll probably be worse if Spencer really thinks he can make me as loud as he says (which I truly don't doubt for a second).

He tugs me up by the hair, and I whine as I get to my feet, my knees aching already. And then his mouth is on my cheek, gently kissing away a tear. "Aw, I thought you liked having my dick in your mouth..."

"I do..."I giggled a little, nestling into his body and feeling his erection, now slick with my saliva, press up against the inside of my thigh. "But I like it better in other places..."

"Mmm, you're right... I do, too..."

I certainly hadn't been expecting that answer.

But it doesn't surprise me when he walks us over to the foot of my bed and pushes me onto it. "Hands and knees, princess."

My knees still burn from the carpet, and I'm sure this squeaky-ass mattress won't alleviate the pain at all, but if there's one thing I've learned since having sex with Spencer it's that pain is all part of the pleasure.

So I don't question it. My limbs submit to his simple command, and once I turn away from him and perch myself on my hands and knees, I can feel him climbing on the bed and crawling up the backside of my body. His hands roam my ass and my waist, and within seconds he has his cock nestled against me.

He moves nice and slow at first, dragging the length of him through my slick cunt and ghosting the skin of my backside with his hands.

"Remember... Nice and loud, okay? Wanna hear how good I make you feel."

Like I could ever deny him. Even though I like to tease him and push his buttons, I couldn't think of a single thing in the moment that I'd ever deny him.

So he finally pushes into me, stretching me out well and good, and a low groan slowly rolls off my tongue like a waterfall. And I'm not doing it for his sake; It's like he draws it out of me like a syringe, and I'm utterly powerless against it... Against him.

Like I need a metaphor to explain how I'm well and truly his bitch...

"There she is..." Spencer breathes, reaching the very deepest part of me and staying there. "There's my obedient little girl... Tell me what you want."

I turn my head to get as good of a look at him as I can, and give him the pout to end all pouts. "I want you to fuck me, hard... Please?"

His answer is a gentle push forward, his body leaning over mine to take my hands and pin them behind my back, which pulls me up towards him so that my back is nearly flush with his chest. His hands are so big that one of them is able to hold both of my wrists while the other gathers my hair and tugs.

I feel like I'm being held by a bungee cord, especially when Spencer starts snapping his hips and pounding into me roughly. My knees are pushing into the springs of the mattress and lifting again with each thrust, and I can't help the stream of whimpers and shouts that escape me at the whole experience.

He lets go of my hair in favor of reaching around and palming my left tit, his pace never faltering for a second. Everything he's doing is precise and swift and so fucking good that my eyes can hardly stay open.

"I'm hearing you, pretty girl, but I don't think you're quite loud enough..." he grumbles in my ear, letting go of me and gently pushing me back down on the bed. He slips out of me and I whine at the loss, but I don't have to worry about it much longer when I feel him lay down over top of me and slam into me hard.

I yelp out, my hands reaching out and clutching the comforter for dear life. Spencer's hands, meanwhile, push up off the mattress on either side of my hips to lift himself up, and then he's grabbing my waist and pushing me into it while he fucks me.

When I instinctively shove my face down and try to muffle myself, though, one of his hands leaves my waist and comes up to tug my hair, pulling my head up. His hips pause, pressed deep into my backside, and I can feel how he's struggling to keep still.

"Uh-uh... No one's home, princess... Let it all out..."

He pulls back and plows into me again, and this time his pace is frustratingly slow. With each slam forward my voice grows louder, begging him for more with incoherence until I start to feel myself grow tense with pleasure.

"You're almost there, baby, I can feel it," Spencer breathes. His voice is far away, and I wish he was closer, his breath on my neck and his lips not far behind. But for now I gladly settle for his hands, tight and bruising on my hips, and the force of his pelvis as it collides brutally and wonderfully with my ass.

What finally brings me sweet release is the sound of him grunting out one word. A command. And once again it's like I'm powerless under his spell.

"Come."

I do, and he fucks me thoroughly through each wave. Even once I've finished, he chases his own orgasm for minutes.

By the sounds he's making and the way his hips falter here and there, I can tell he's close, but he wants to make it last. I want to tell him that we have all weekend, to maybe tease him a bit, but I'm so fucked out and incoherent that I couldn't have said a single word if I tried.

So I lay there and take it with a weary smile on my face, ever the whiny, whimpering mess that I am, and patiently wait for the moment he decides to let go.

And when he does, it's the most glorious feeling in the world. I'm tired, yes, but never tired enough to lift myself and wiggle my ass back into him, clenching myself around him and relishing in the way he grunts out my name. He empties himself into me, and I hum, positively satisfied and warm.

Before I know it, I'm sinking down within the comfort of my blankets, and I rest my head in my arms, the pillow still a little too far out of reach. And though I'm content, I still whine out sadly when Spencer retreats and leaves me feeling empty.

I'm about to tell him to get over here and cuddle me when I feel his weight redistribute, and it isn't long before he has his head between my legs, his tongue acting as a net for the cum that drips out of me. He barely touches me, only the tiniest of flicks with the tip of his tongue darting over my skin. I can't tell if I'm thankful because of the relief or if I want the burn to go on forever.

In the end, I don't really have a choice.

He pushes his tongue up, sweeping over my dripping cunt and cleaning me up. Suddenly his mouth is everywhere, making the most delicious sounds and bringing me closer to another orgasm, and all I can do is let it happen. My weary smile is joined by a fluttering pair of eyelids and a string of whimpers that are so small they don't dare drown out the words Spencer is grumbling between my legs.

Some of which, I can hear, sound out, "Another one..."

His finger adds to the mix, coming up and rubbing my clit in tight circles as he finishes cleaning up the mess he made, and within seconds I'm a writhing mess at his undoing.

I'm not sure how long it lasts, only that one second I'm tensing with another orgasm and the next I'm having my limbs moved.

Spencer is beside me in an instant, his face coming into view as I feel my breathing slow to a steadier pace. The longer I wait, the more focused I am on his features, soft and even a little concerned as he strokes some of the hair from my face.

"How are you feeling?"

The smile that beams across my face is just about the most natural thing I'd ever felt. And it seems to bring out those bright glints of adoration in his eyes that only ever serve to make my heart flutter, which makes what I tell him even more true.

"I'm happy."

JULY 27th

Waking up to Spencer next to me, while a daily occurrence these past few days, is still possibly the most surprising and comforting feeling in the world.

Our bodies never part. From the moment we lay down to sleep until the moment we wake up and decide it's time to start doing necessary daily things, not one inch of skin is untouched. Even when showering.

I think back to yesterday morning, where he dragged me out of bed because he had to pee and didn't want to leave me. I was slumped over the backside of his body while he went and then in his arms again while he ran us a shower to wake up.

It brings the widest smile to my face, however sleepy it may also be.

"What are you smiling for?"

I squint one eye open and see that Spencer is staring at me. I hadn't expected him to be awake.

"Just thinking about yesterday..."

He tightens his grip on my waist and pulls me even closer, my face instantly drawn to the crook of his neck. "Mmm," he hums as I nestle in and press a sleepy kiss to the bare skin at the column of his throat. "Which part?"

"Our shower."

I feel his thumb then, rubbing back and forth over my hip as clearly as I can feel him smile against the top of my head. "That was fun, wasn't it..."

"Mhmm," I agree. My lightly tongue traces over his collarbone before I kiss it again. "Our shower is much better equipped for sex than yours."

"So... What you're saying is that shower sex is out of the question this morning?" he confirms with a laugh.

"That's exactly what I'm saying..."

"Well then, princess, what uhh... What alternatives do you think we should try out?"

I start to laugh when he pulls my leg up over his waist and hoists me over on top of him. My face remains buried into his neck, though I trail my lips up and up until I reach his jaw.

"Hmm... What if I just ride you and see where it takes us?"

When my lips finally reach his cheek, Spencer shifts and captures them in a long, butterfly-inducing kiss before pulling away with a smile and brushing the hair from my face. "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea."

It helps that I can already feel him hardening beneath me, and from the moment I felt his hands on me, I'd been aroused.

Though, as soon as I line him up and get ready to start our morning the right way, his phone rings on the bedside table. I'm tempted to keep going, but he half pushes me off of him when he reaches and reads the name.

"It's your mom."

That instantly kills my mood.

With a dramatic sigh and a pout, I hop off of him and curl up under the covers, letting him answer.

"Good morning," he chirps rather happily, and I try not to imagine my moms smile on the other end of the line. Thankfully I can't hear her, but I can still see Spencer smiling as he greets her and goes through all the pleasantries that come with a long distance relationship; I miss yous and how are yous...

I wonder if he really does miss her. He must, at least a little, right?

I'm staring straight ahead now, picking at my nails while I wait for them to finish talking, but something feels off.

I can feel Spencer's eyes on me.

But then he asks, "What are you wearing?" through the phone with a voice so playful and seductive, and I snap my head around, glaring at him.

"Really?" I mouth.

The smirk on his face makes me want to chuck his phone across the room.

"Mmm," he hums, looking me dead in the eye. And the next time he speaks, I swear he's talking directly to me. "Why don't you take it off... I want to talk you through some things..."

I know my mom is hearing the roughness in his voice through the phone, but right now I can see his eyes, hungry as they rake over my body once I slowly peel the blanket away and reveal myself to him, and I know that his main goal isn't to get my mom off.

It's to finish what we started before she'd interrupted.

"Touch yourself for me, baby? Nice and slow. Just relax..."

He softly crawls over to me, keeping the phone to his ear with one hand while the other takes my knees and spreads them apart.

I start to touch myself as instructed, but he swats my hand away and winks, nestling between my legs. I lean up on my elbows and tilt my head, wondering where he's going with this, when he leans his other cheek into my thigh.

"You know what I'd do to you right now If I was there?" A small pause. And then, "I'd use my fingers to slowly stretch you open... Feel you contract around me..."

His fingers do exactly like he says, and I have to stop myself from making any sound. The evil grin growing on his face as he does it all makes it even harder.

"I'd finger-fuck you nice and slow," he continues in a voice just above a whisper. "Until you're begging me for more."

When his eyes meet mine, once more I want to lean forward, snatch his phone, and smash it on the floor. I want him to utterly devour me, without any interruptions or avoidances at getting caught.

But he's such a fucking tease.

Mom must be talking on the other end, because Spencer is silent, slowly fucking me with his fingers and watching them intently as they disappear inside me. Entranced... The thought of her speaking to him and holding his attention makes me jealous— Sure, he's fucking me right now, but really, she's the one calling the shots.

I lean my head back in frustration, letting out the tiniest of whines and grinding my hips up into his hand, hoping and pleading for more.

A low laugh leaves him. "Please, what?"

It's not lost on me that my mom must have asked for more from him at the same time I did... It cements just how absolutely fucked this whole situation is, and yet I can't help but clench around his fingers in earnest, silently pleading with him to go on.

He removes his fingers from me and I sigh out, trying not to disrupt their call.

"And... How would you like me to fuck you?" he asks, looking at me with an evil grin and knowing damn well I can't actually answer.

After he gets her answer, he climbs up on his knees and spreads my legs further, throwing one of them up on his shoulder while he leaves the other on the bed. Since he only has one hand to work with, he gestures to it and I help him out, lifting my other leg up to my chest and holding it with one arm to let him get inside at a good angle.

"Yeah, and how do you want it, baby?" He lines himself up with me and very slowly sinks the head of his cock in, holding it and running his hand along my stomach. "I'm thinking... I'd like to fuck you so slow you're practically writhing beneath me..."

I stick my tongue out at him, and then without warning he slams into me. I bring a hand to my mouth and bite down on my finger, trying not to make a sound.

"You're gonna be patient... And you're gonna let me take my time... Until you're nice and desperate... Whining out for me like a good little whore..."

Each sentence is punctuated with another thrust, hard and deep, followed by a short pause, and it's all I can do not to cry out his name and beg him to go faster.

Mom must be talking on the line again, because Spencer doesn't say a word as he fucks me. His pace doesn't pick up or slow, and his own self control starts to recede—I can see it in his features. I can also feel it in the way his free hand grips my leg. He wants to go faster, he wants to lose control, and this is killing him just as much as it's killing me.

But then he pants into the phone, his voice breaking a little as he pauses and rolls his hips into me, slow and burning. I whine into my hand as quietly as possible, and he asks the question that will seal my fate.

"Where do you want it?"

I wait, clenching around him and praying for the result I want.

And then he laughs. "Yeah? You like when I paint you with my cum, huh?"

I shake my head, silently begging him to resist and stay inside me, but he only shrugs as if to say, Sorry about your luck, and then pulls out, leaving me whiny and desperate.

Just like he said.

And then, he comes all over me, stroking himself fast and hard. Even though I've still yet to feel any sort of relief, seeing him in front of me like this, feeling his warmth dance across my skin in warm spurts, and hearing him groan out as he watches my body gladly accept it all...

It's quite honestly the most satisfying thing I've ever seen.

I can't say I'm not happy, though, when he slumps down and pants, sighing out a few goodbyes to my mom and then tossing his phone on the floor when she hangs up.

He smiles at me then, and I pout.

"You're evil..."

"Mmm, you love it," he drawls, leaning down and starting to dart his tongue over the mess he made on my stomach. Meanwhile his finger finds its way inside me again, and I feel myself start to turn into a writhing mess once more.

And he's right.

I do love it.

JULY 29th

Approaching the front door with Mom in step behind me, knowing that Spencer awaits for her on the other side isn't what makes my heart jump out of my chest.

It's the look on both of their faces when they see each other.

Though I push Mom forward to go see him, it nearly breaks me seeing her run into his arms. He picks her up and spins her around, reminiscent of their little moment at the airport, and the pure happiness on her face specifically makes my stomach twist.

This time it isn't jealousy.

It's guilt.

She's... incredibly happy. I don't think I've ever seen her this happy before. She's positively beaming as she hugs him tight and buries her face into his chest.

And when he looks past her head and looks over at me, I feel it.

The heartache.

Spencer's eyes burn holes into my own, and fill them with a sympathy that makes me feel more wounded than comforted.

I wonder then if he can see it on my face; The way I'm trying not to break down and cry... The way I'm only holding myself together by the weak smile I'm wearing, both to assure him that I'm fine and also to feign happiness for my mother, rather than the aching envy and sadness that festers within every crevice of my soul.

I offer to grab more of Mom's things from the car and dart right back out the door to avoid them for a little while. Maybe to also get some fresh air, even though I'd just been outside less than a minute ago.

After flinging open the trunk of the car, I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut, feeling my chest start to tighten at the realization that I might be starting to fall in love with him.

A man who isn't mine, and who could never be.

———

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𝓲𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓭. | 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓽𝔀𝓸

𝔹 𝔸 𝕂 𝕌 𝔾 𝕆 𝕌  𝕂 𝔸 𝕋 𝕊 𝕌 𝕂 𝕀

     ⇴ male reader [22, virgin]      ⇴ all characters are depicted as [18]+

↣ rating: explicit, 18+ ↣ warnings: over 5k words long, smut, Age Gap (12 years), older Bakugou (34), shy virgin reader, fluffy smut

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

“Mhmhm… Mh… Wait, Katsuki…san…”, you barely managed to mumble before breaking the kisses, both of you panting lightly.

“Huh?! I’ve waited too fucking long, [Your.name]!”, Bakugou growled while trying to pull you back down.

Though you managed to push him back a little before your boyfriend could aggressively kiss you once more.

“I know, just… let me take a shower first! I just came home from my 10 hour shift, threw my hero costume into the hallway and rushed over here.”

“Ughg, fine.”, Katsuki grumbled lightly, his hand that had held on to your shirt desperately, loosening.

A small smile flitted across your lips before you quickly smooched him.

“Thank you. Oh and- here.”, you pulled the two tickets you had talked about before out of your back pocket.

“Oh… right… You said you had tickets, hm?”

“Yup, a friend of mine works behind the scenes for the comedian we both really like. Remember? We talked about it?”, tilting your head lightly, your cute smile and shimmering eyes reminded Katsuki of an adorable little dog. The thought alone made him also smile a little – so innocent and cute.

“Yeah… On our first date. I can’t believe you remembered.”

“Of course! So, I used my connections to get us two tickets.”, you excitedly declared. It helped with the urge of not staring at your boyfriend who was still standing naked in front of you.

“So when are we going?”, Bakugou casually asked, looking at the two tickets to find a date.

“April next year! I am so exited already though.”, you giggled.

Meanwhile Bakugou’s heart was doing a flip in his chest. Next year in April meant that you were believing you and him would still be together by that time. Making plans so far ahead, how was he supposed not to get emotional and happy?

“Katsuki-sa- hm!”

Pulling you down again, he surprised you with yet another intimate kiss. Once again not knowing where to really put your hands, you awkwardly placed them on his lower back. Though feeling the bare skin under your fingertips was enough to send a strong jolt down south. Damn it, how were you going to survive actual sex?

“Go take a shower. And don’t let me wait too long.”, Bakugou finally said when he pulled back with a smirk on his lips that made your cheeks warm.

“Uh-huh!”, was your only dreamily sighed answer as you watched him for a moment, completely dazed. There he was, walking up the stairs so casually – butt-naked and making your dick hurt inside your jeans.

Thus, you literally sprinted into the bathroom to take the quickest shower while scrubbing yourself the cleanest you’ve ever been.

  Bakugou on the other hand couldn’t contain his grin when he stared at the tickets in his hands. He didn’t even know if you had realized the meaning behind those. Or maybe he was just overreacting seeing you plan ahead so much. It probably would have made him uncomfortable a few months ago, when he was freshly dating you, but now? Katsuki couldn’t stop his heart from beating so violently in his chest.

Walking over to the drawer, he prepared some things, like throwing the tube of lube onto the bed and rummaging through all the condoms that he hoarded. Without realizing it, his mind started wandering on its own. Not that anyone could really blame him. Bakugou had the desire to have sex with you for quite some time, so of course he had let his imagination take over. Wondering what you would look like without anything on. Since, to this day, you had been too shy to even undress in front of him.

Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t had any intimate contact with anyone ever since his last relationship ended four years ago. And suddenly, Bakugou’s heart hammered quickly for a different reason. It definitely had been a while since he had sex with anyone.

When Katsuki heard someone rushing up the stairs though, he quickly shook his head a bit, trying to get those thoughts out of his head.

“What am I fucking thinking? It’s just sex. No need to overthink this so much. God, I’m getting old.”

And then, you already came inside, a towel around your hips.

“Ah, good timing. So, do you think we need Large or Extra Large?”, Bakugou teased you, holding up two condoms. However, his teasing certainly flew over your head when your face displayed pure shock.

Only for you to turn around, wanting to flee again. Thankfully though, Bakugou reacted swiftly, grabbing your arm and turning you back around, just for your hands to cover your face.

“I will disappoint you, Katsuki-san!”

“Hey, that was just a joke, come on. You’re so fucking easy to scare.”, he chuckled and playfully rolled his eyes.

“Sorry…”, you mumbled shyly.

“Come here. Don’t think about it too hard. I ain’t grading you or anything, yeah? Just relax.”, and with that, he pulled you down for a kiss. His other hand sneaking to your hips and pulling on the towel. This time, you thankfully stayed calm as you let him push you back and onto the bed.

His muscular, broad body crawling on top of yours almost made you explode. This was really happening. How often had you imagined and dreamt about it? And now it was really going to happen.

“It’s just…”, you broke the kisses, your eyes already gleaming with lust, “I feel like I’m gonna explode any second, Katsuki-san. Just seeing you naked is enough to make me go crazy. To be honest… just thinking about you is enough to give me a boner. I feel so stupid!”

Bakugou was blushing a little, yet he was flattered. With his mind sometimes playing tricks on him and him fearing he was too old for you, knowing he had such an effect on you… was nice.

“That’s not stupid… You’re so cute.”, he whispered before leaning down again to kiss you.

“Touch me… You want to… no?”

“HMH!”, was the only thing you whimpered so desperately as Katsuki already grabbed your hand to place them onto his small, yet unbelievably strong body.

All it took was for Bakugou to scooch closer and lower his ass onto your hips for your cock to bounce and drops of precum to drip down. Your body visibly shuddering was honestly the best feeling, because your reactions were so cute and honest. Still so innocent to the touches. Katsuki loved that. He really felt incredibly desirable and wanted.

Your trembling hands were roaming his body, not sure what to do but you also didn’t want to stop. His muscles felt so nice underneath your palm. His skin was smooth and yet rough in some areas. Bakugou’s body was showing scars from previous battles, though it only made him so sexy and handsome it was almost too much for you.

At the end, you stopped when you grabbed his luscious thighs the moment he started to grind his cock against your own. An unstoppable moan escaped your throat instantly as you dug your nails into his skin whilst another violent jolt made your cock visibly throb.

Breaking away from your mouth eventually, Bakugou couldn’t help but smirk when he saw how red your lips already were from so much kissing. Leaning in, his swollen lips met your neck, softly nibbling and making you shudder once more. His smirk so prominent you could feel it on your skin.

“How do you feel, [Your.name]?”, Katsuki whispered in your ear, enjoying the soft moan and twitching of your body against his.

“Hot… It’s unfair you’re so… fucking sexy, Katsuki-san…”, you barely managed to choke out.

It only elicit a small chuckle from your boyfriend when he sat back up, his cheeks however having a small pink tint to them. You watched attentively as he reached to the side to grab the lube. Though before he could open the bottle, you stopped him.

“Wait, Katsuki-san, can… can I do it…?”, which definitely made your poor, shy heart beat ten times as fast as it was healthy.

“Haa… you sure?”, he reluctantly asked, one brow raised.

But you nodded and sat back up to wrap your arms around his hips while your noses almost touched.

“Mh. I want to make you feel good… and learn what you like…”, you sheepishly mumbled and then softly placed a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Oh…”, Bakugou smirked before wrapping his arms around your neck to kiss you, then whisper against your lips, “Then don’t hold back… I’ll serve as your guinea pig.”

Smirking yourself, you returned the kisses a little deeper, trying to get out the last bit of confidence you had in yourself as you mumbled back, “Then I will put in all my effort so you just need to come back for another round of experimenting.”

And Katsuki certainly liked that you slowly seemed to warm up and not be as nervous as before. His responds a mere chuckle only to capture your lips again for a passionate kiss.

Meanwhile, with your heavily thumping heart, you clumsily opened the lube bottle to squirt some of the liquid onto your fingers before throwing it back onto the bed after closing. Pulling back from your boyfriend’s mouth, you just looked at him for a few seconds to try and get the courage to touch him… Something you had never done before. Touching someone in such an intimate place.

Though before you could chicken out again, you finally reached down and dipped your fingers between his cheeks, the little shudder from Bakugou immediately spurring you on. Hence why you gave yourself the push to play with his ass; circling his twitching hole and rubbing the lube around, just to see him shiver a little.

“Oi… don’t tease…”, Katsuki could also just choke out, before softly moaning a little when you worked your finger inside.

Just the feeling of his warm insides around your finger alone made your cock twitch, the urge to just plunge into him was almost unbearable. Your own breathing quickened as you pushed another finger in before starting to move them. His muscular body was now pressed against your own, your free hand groping his ass to spread him even more.

“Haha- Ah- I guess… you’re a natural…?”, Bakugou chuckled, trying to sound cool and seductive as he wanted to keep the mask of the older and more experienced one. However, when you pushed deeper and found that little spot that made him whine, it was all over for him.

While you had to seriously fight back the urge to just cum all over him because he was just way too fucking sexy and made you completely insane with how erotic he was, Bakugou just let loose and moaned freely.

“D-Do that… ah- gain��”

You truthfully couldn’t believe that was actually happening. Your head was spinning as you moved your fingers like before, rubbing against his sweet spot, trying to memorize what made him feel good.

“I-Is that okay… Katsuki-san?”, you were lightly gasping. He was truly taking your breath away – you didn’t even want to know what would happen if you would actually have sex, your dick was probably going to explode the second you would enter with how on edge you already were.

“Hmh- keep… going, okay?”, Katsuki was merely whining.

God, he sounded so differently, and it was so erotic and sexy. And it certainly didn’t help when he scooched even closer, his throbbing cock rubbing up against your own was almost enough for you.

“K-Katsuki-san, ahn don’t… do that…”, you helplessly moaned and buried your face in the nook of his neck, making him just chuckle.

“I don’t know what you- fuck-! even.. mea- NGH!”, clawing at your shoulder, he deliberately started moving his hips a little. Thrusting his throbbing dick against your own, smearing precum around while you kept fucking him with your fingers.

“K-Katsuki-san!”, all you could do was moan out his name, being the sensitive virgin you were, this was almost too much for you.

His nails were clawing at your shoulder while his hips were moving erratically, making it harder for you to thrust against his sweet spot, but Katsuki didn’t care. He was consumed by the pleasure as he rubbed his cock against yours.

“Oh- fuck- GOD- I’m.. ah clos- Katsu…san….”, you could barely choke out, being interrupted by your gasps and moans, but that certainly didn’t stop your lover from moving even more vigorously. Though reaching down was the straw that broke the camel’s back as feeling his hand engulfing your cocks and stroking them was the last touch you needed before cumming all over him and yourself.

With your free hand you clawed at his back as you moaned into the crook of his neck. Your erotic noises sending multiple chills down Bakugou’s spine as he held onto you as tightly as you held on to him; letting your hips ride out that orgasm.

When you finally raised your head, you were still gasping and your [eye.color] eyes still gleaming with lust (though also a little bit of embarrassment that you orgasmed so soon and couldn’t hold back). Bakugou, however, simply leaned in for another few kisses that you certainly appreciated.

“Mmm- sorry… Katsuki-san…”

“Oh shut up.”, he chuckled in between little gasps.

With cum dripping from his hand he then reached back to the night stand to grab the box of tissues, cleaning his hand as well as your own that you had pulled back from his ass. All while smirking a little since you looked so dazed from that orgasm and what had just happened.

Before he could say anything though, you had already wrapped your arms around him tightly, pressing his naked, warm body against your own. Bakugou’s own arms sneaking around your torso as well after he had thrown the tissue in the trash. For a few seconds, it was rather quiet, just the beating of your hearts audible, until you finally dropped the bomb.

“I love you, Katsuki-san.”, you whispered into the nook of his neck.

For a few moments he was just flabbergasted. While his mouth needed a few moments to speak his feelings out loud, his heart was already beating 10 miles per hour. It had been so long since someone had whispered those words to him. Someone who wasn’t just a big fan of him screaming whenever he was outside as a pro-hero, or his family. No… that was certainly a different love.

Leaning back a bit, he ‘forced’ you to look at him, even though he fully understood how embarrassed you were and also how on edge that he was just silent. Bakugou could almost see all the thoughts rushing through your pretty little head, but with just his rare, little smile, you were put at ease.

“I love you, too.”

And before you could react, he had already cupped your face and pulled you in for a kiss. A kiss that made your heart thump so much you thought you might die. You had never felt that happy before. Graduating from U.A.? Amazing accomplishment. Meeting Katsuki and being able to date him? A dream come true, indeed. But hearing your lover say those three words back to you for the first time was just… indescribable happiness rushing through your veins.

With a little bit of force, Bakugou managed to push you back onto the bed, both of you giggling while kissing. He was happy. You were happy. If time could just stop now.

But, it didn’t. Time went on and thus, you whispered in between kisses, “Just… give me 10 minutes… ‘nd I’m…. ready…mmkay?”

Breaking away fully, he leaned on his elbow as he looked at you, his ruby eyes gleaming with lust and a smirk on his lips.

“10 minutes, huh? You really are young.”

“Oh shut up.”, you giggled yourself, when just a second later realization sank in.

“No, wait! I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry!”, your cheeks were basically on fire. Being so rude to someone older was just… you had never done that.

Bakugou on the other hand though just stared at you for a few seconds, before leaning in once more for a kiss, surprising you. However, easing into the kiss quite quickly, your eyes fluttered open again when he sat back up a little. Just far away enough for just the tip of your noses to touch anymore.

“Don’t apologize… Fuck honorifics, okay? Fuck speaking keigo, just… talk to me normally.”

“A-are you sure, Katsuki-san? I mean… our age gap…….”, you gulped at the end, feeling uneasy.

“So? Zero fucks given. I hate honorifics. If you use keigo with me I feel so old…” he avoided eye contact for a moment, before looking back and tilting his head lightly.

“I just want to feel like your boyfriend, not your fucking boss or something…”

“Katsuki-sa- nh- I’ll try! I promise. It’s just really hard to let go, but… I… I want to call you nicknames, too!”, now you had to turn your head away because you were too embarrassed, “B-but maybe that’s a little inappropriate…”

“No…”, a small smile flitted across his lips, “I’d like that.”

And those simple words made your heart skip a beat.

Leaning in the last few inches, Bakugou kissed you on the mouth once more; the tip of his tongue gracing along your bottom lip until you opened them, allowing him inside. A sloppy, intimate kiss igniting again as he slightly changed positions so he was on top of you like before.

Feeling more confident though, you let your hands travel down his spine to his ass. Grabbing the firm skin and spreading his cheeks, you earned his little moan that made your heart jump in excitement. However, it only took a second before you also softly groaned into his mouth when he started grinding again.

With that, even though you had just orgasmed, it was certainly easy to rile you up again. Having the man of your dreams basically humping you was very effective indeed. And Bakugou seemed to notice how easily agitated you were, the smirk on his lips when he broke away was very prominent.

“Should I take it as a compliment that you’re already hard as a rock after just 5 minutes?”, Katsuki teased you, before lowering his head to pepper kisses onto your neck.

You just whimpered a little “Katsuki…” in embarrassment, only to thrust your hips against his as well. Taking him a little off-guard, his surprised grunt made you also grin a little.

“I-It’s not my fault… it’s just you… you’re so… incredible. I… I can’t help it…”, you had a hard time talking properly as Katsuki wasn’t stopping his movements, both of you desperately grinding against each other.

“Haha, I like that.”, Bakugou chuckled, his deep voice sending a chill down his spine.

Though, in the end, he decided to stop (hearing your little whine when he did that was very cute) and sit back up. Both of your cocks back to leaking and throbbing and this time, he stood up fully. Your glazed eyes following him when he walked over to the drawer from before to grab a condom, before bouncing back on top of you.

“You ready?”, he just whispered with that grin on his lips again that made your loins hurt with how erotic he was.

So all you could do was nod very enthusiastically that made Bakugou laugh a little.

With that, you watched attentively once more as he opened the condom; however a blissful hiss escaped your throat when he wrapped his hand around your dick to give it a few strokes. Hence why your head fell back into the pillow for a moment as you had to concentrate really hard to control yourself and not embarrass yourself by cumming again so soon. (Which was very hard because being a virgin and having this sexy man touch you was very effective in making you lose control very fast)

“[Your.name]…”, Katsuki had your full attention once more when he whispered your name like that, though when you looked up… Your cock visibly bounced in his hand as he was hovering right above it with his ass.

“Oh God…”, you grabbed his thighs as your breath hitched in your throat, watching as he lowered himself on top of you.

Clenching your teeth, the feeling of Bakugou’s ass spreading and engulfing your cockhead was almost too much. But it only intensified when his moaning self pushed down even further.

“K-Katsuki!”, was the only thing you could whimper as his hot, sticky insides swallowed more and more of your throbbing cock, almost pushing you over the edge with how tight he was.

Bakugou was just trying to control his moans as it had been so long since he last felt such a nice, thick dick inside his ass. His body trembled due to the full feeling as well as his insides fluttered excitingly; the urge to move overwhelming him.

Without really thinking about how close you possibly were, Katsuki started swaying his hips. First only lightly, but it only took a few moments before he started properly riding you. The moans that left your lips only spurring him on, especially when you locked eyes with him. Just the way you were melting and clawing at his thigh, while looking at him so intensely, it made Bakugou burn up even more.

“Ahnh. God- Katsuk- ah you’re so… amazing- I can’t-“, you chocked out in between heavy gasps and moans.

Katsuki really couldn’t comprehend how cute and innocent you were, being so completely mind-blown by him riding you hard. It made gross little butterflies fly uncontrollably inside his tummy – how he missed that feeling. As someone who never had a casual hook-up, finally being able to have sex again with someone he trusted and loved felt indescribable.

When he deliberately started tightening around you, the whiny moan that escaped your throat sent a chill up his spine.

“I’m gonna- if you… do that… agai-“, you so desperately choked out, being completely overwhelmed. And your boyfriend just chuckled and continued to tease you. Fuck. You had never felt so good. Your dick was throbbing and so rock-hard, you were barely able to hold yourself back from cumming again – and that in the first few minutes of Bakugou doing his magic.

Leaning down, Katsuki pressed his palms into the pillow beside your head while he pressed his lips on yours. Igniting a sloppy kiss, you both couldn’t control your lustful moans and grunts. Bakugou just knew what he was doing, how he had to angle himself so your cock penetrated his prostate and made him see little stars.

You were close. So unbeliavabel close. It was almost painful how hard you were and how much you needed the release. Thus, without thinking much about anything anymore (as he had officially blown your mind today and you weren’t able to think straight anymore) you just reached down to his own bouncing cock; wrapping your fingers around it, the throaty moan that left his lips only riling you up more. It also made you more confident in your action, thus you proceeded to also pump his cock while he was moving so passionately.

Spurred on by your own actions, Katsuki only teased you more. His insides fluttering around you and tightening, just to listen to your desperate moans. Feeling your nails drag across his back as he pushed you over the edge with his skillful moves. Your moans deep and so erotic that it made Bakugou shiver, though nothing compared to your spasming, trembling body underneath him.

You were both gasping for air and sweating. Though before you could even remotely start to calm down, Katsuki had already started swaying his hips lightly, making you jerk and moan in surprise.

“K-Katsuki-“, you choked out his name, [eye.color] eyes wide open.

But the way he looked at you, glistening lips slightly opened, his ruby eyes barely closed and drops of sweat running down his temple – so sexy.

“Just a little… Think you can… handle it?”, he crookedly grinned.

All you could do was nod and pull him down.

Lips colliding and tongues entwining, he openly moaned into your mouth when you started thrusting your hips. Using the last bit of your hard cock before going limp to make him get off while also stroking his dick.

Even though the friction was so overwhelming and your cock was so overstimulated by that point it almost made you lose your mind, you didn’t want to stop. And Bakugou didn’t want to either. His hips relentlessly grinding, your cock shoved in balls-deep and your hand stroking him was almost pushing him over the edge.

The good thing was, Katsuki was already so sensitive and riled up because it had been so long since he last had sex. He couldn’t even think about his own insecurities, like being too old or knowing you could see his wrinkles and scarred skin from work as a pro-hero; you made him feel safe and loved. Yet, Bakugou was so turned on. Even if you had been clumsy or shy, he was dripping precum all over the place. He was so wet. And the feeling of his ass being stuffed was just so nice.

“NGH- [Your.name]-!”, breaking the sloppy kisses, he threw his head to the side, gasping heavily.

You seriously couldn’t stop staring at him. Especially when it all broke down and he started moaning so lewdly. His cock started twitching in your hand before he came all over your hand and belly. His body was trembling, thighs shaking and you could watch and stroke him through the orgasm, earning his whiny groans.

After a few moments, Bakugou opened his ruby eyes once more, before leaning in and pecking your lips, whispering a soft, “I love you.” Which made your heart jump and your lips curve into a big smile as you smooched him over and over again, mumbling an “I love you, too.” back.

As you were laying there for a few minutes, you just shared little kisses, as if both of your lips weren’t already swollen and red from all the kissing prior, but you just couldn’t stop. He was so cute and sexy. Just- how was he seriously your boyfriend?

Though in the end, Katsuki did sit back up again.

“Shall we go clean this off, huh?”, he… almost bashfully, smirked and nodded to your hand. Hence you just chuckled and agreed.

And so, rather quickly, Bakugou got off of you, disposed of the condom and in the end, you rushed into the bathroom for a quick wash; nothing too long, really, because both of you wanted to get back into bed fairly swiftly again. Hence, it only took a few minutes before you and your boyfriend were in the sheets once more, cuddling this time.

“So… how did you feel…?”, you asked after a few moments. Rather quietly though and carefully, not knowing how to really initiate the conversation about ‘giving feedback’.

“It felt fucking nice.”, then he cuddled closer and turned your head towards him so you had to look at him, “You did good for your first time.”

Of course he had to tease you about it.

“Katsuki!”, you playfully kicked him.

“I mean it… I… want to make you feel good. Is there something you want me to do next time?”

When Bakugou realized you were so serious about it, he couldn’t help but smile a little.

“I mean it, too, ya know? I felt very good. And I, too, only want you to feel good when we do it. So we can both feel the fucking best!”, Bakugou then grinned, which thankfully made you giggle as well when you leaned in for another swift smooch.

“Also… don’t think about it too much, okay? This was your first time. You only get to be the best when you practice a lot.”, smirking seductively, he slipped his leg between your own and scooched as closely as he could against your body, “And I promise you I have never skipped practice once in my life. So I hope you’re fucking prepared for what’s to come.”

As you had to search for your heart that had dropped far beyond your stomach due to Katsuki’s advances, you could just gulp and nod. However, you also didn’t shy away anymore when you grab onto him as well. Which pleasantly surprised Bakugou, hence leaning in the last few inches for a smooch.

“Thank you…”, was the last thing you thought you would hear him mumble all of a sudden.

Bakugou realized your slightly confused look on your face, thus clarifying.

“Four years ago, my ex broke me so much I thought he had made me unable to like, let alone love anyone ever again.”

“Oh… I’m sorry about that, Katsuki.”, you whispered empathetically and your hand reaching out to softly caress his back. Which instantly made him smile a little, even though those were such painful memories.

“You know. I was done. I didn’t care about having a relationship anymore and so also basically giving up sex completely since I don’t wanna just randomly fuck with anyone. All the paparazzi just waiting for this moment? And the fear of meeting random strangers who then potentially blackmail me, it was just all too fucking risky. So four years ago it all just… broke apart. Everything. He betrayed me and hurt me so much.”

Katsuki then, however, sat back up a little so he could look at you, propping himself up on his elbow.

“So.. what I just want to say is. Thank you. For making me feel something again and… I ain’t used to this cheesy shit, but… For making me fall in love again. If you would have not been so persistent, I would have been still hurting and hating everyone and everything and just be a miserable ass, ya know?”, he said at last with a small smile on his lips as he reached for your hand to lace your fingers together.

“I am glad.”, smilling brightly, you leaned in for a kiss until you pushed him back into the pillow, making him chuckle.

After bottling up everything for the past weeks, he was relieved you both finally took the next step in your relationship. And hopefully, from now on, everything was going uphill. Though, to be honest, with him and you finally having started with having sex and generally experimenting sexually, Bakugou couldn’t wait for the next few weeks.

Because if he had learned anything in the past 15 years of dating, it was that, when you start to have sex, you will do it anywhere and anytime, all the time  – and he was ready, oh so ready for that stage of your relationship. Plus, judging by how you were already slightly grinding against him again, you probably were as excited as him for what’s to come.  

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

@salemwritesxx || do not repost, edit, modify or translate my works

⇻ salem.talks: I tried really hard to have this ready for my birthday yesterday but this is one beast of a fucking second part I just couldn’t finish it in time. so… here is a treat for you and myself

#salemswriting. #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x male reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x male reader #bottom bakugou #bakugou smut #older bakugou #bakugou #smut

[notanotherreidgirl]

I just had an idea based on my recent health experience: What if Spence had to wear a Holter for 24 or 72 hours to measure his heart's activity (maybe as part of the FBIs health checks) ? And he has to take notes of everything he does so that they can match it with the information collected so he cannot have sex or masturbate unless he's willing to justify his increased heart activity to a team of doctors. So, reader being reader, decides to drive him nuts, teasing him again and again because she knows he can't do anything about it. (Does he end up cumming in his pants because he's trying so hard not to touch himself and increase his heart rate?) ☺️🥰

Love ya! Have a great day!

Let's Get Physical

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, edging, blowjob, grinding, coming in pants

Word Count: 1380 (i'm inclined to just call this a full fic)

A/N: First, an apology. This has been in my inbox for quite a while and I am very sorry about the wait. Secondly, I made this entire scenario up after doing some minimal research on Holter monitors so it might not make sense.

Spencer gave Hotch’s door a light tap before taking a deep breath and then giving two sharp knocks. “Come in”

The door swung open and Derek patted him on the shoulder with a smile as he exited, no doubt having just received a glowing report regarding his physical health. Spencer dropped into the seat, casting a quick glance at the team of health professionals on Hotch’s couch and immediately regretting it. They were very clinical looking - pressed white lab coats, hair combed and gelled back, clipboards piled with papers, already scribbling away and speaking among themselves in hushed voices. “Ok Dr. Reid, we just have a few questions to ask you regarding your health practices and then we’ll take a look at the results from the Holter Monitor. Is that alright?”

“Um yeah. Yeah, that’s fine” he glanced over at Hotch who was leafing through Spencer’s notes with a raised eyebrow. The first few questions about his diet and lifestyle practices were easy but then came the dreaded evaluation of the Holter measurements. “Now we just have a few questions about some of the readings from the Holter. I see there was a bit of a spike right after you put it on that you attributed to nerves?”

“O-oh uh yeah, I was just a little nervous about having it on. That was it.” But that wasn’t the exact truth.

---

You had Spencer sit cross-legged on the bed without his shirt when he came home with the Holter. He was explaining how it worked as you studied the diagram detailing how to put it on. You slipped the wearable recording device over his head and climbed into his lap, surreptitiously rocking your hips into his as you untangled the wires. His hands encircled your waist, adjusting your angle so your clothed core ran against his entire length. You attached the electrodes carefully, kissing each patch of skin before covering it. His breath came out in soft pants as his release mounted and he squeezed his eyes shut. Just as he was about to come, you clicked the machine on and his eyes flew open.

“Wait, Y/N! I can’t - I’m supposed to keep my heart rate down.” The panic in his voice was evident and you smirked. If there was one thing you knew about Spencer it was that he liked succeeding. One might even say he liked winning - 3 Ph.Ds, prolific poker player, unsubs behind bars - so it didn’t come as a surprise to you that he was keen on passing his health evaluation. You trailed a hand down his chest, feeling the pounding heart he was trying to calm with deep breaths. “If you say so, doc”

---

The evaluator’s next question snapped him from his reverie. “That sounds fine but there was a concerning increase in your heart activity at 2 AM. It says here that you were exercising, specifically sprinting?”

Spencer dropped the pen he had been twirling and dove under his chair to get it. “Ah yes, I - uh - those are my nightly sprints.”

If Hotch’s eyebrows went up any farther they’d disappear in his hairline. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand across his face in exasperation when he spotted your face peeking out through an opening in his office blinds. You darted away quickly, sprinting back to your desk. Meanwhile, Spencer mentally chastised himself for his lack of self-restraint, saying that he was doing sprints at 2 AM was stupid but it was the only thing he could think of that could somewhat explain his elevated heart rate without revealing his actual activities.

---

He couldn’t sleep with the monitor on, tossing and turning in your arms until he rolled onto his back and let out a frustrated huff. You sleepily propped yourself up on your elbow. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

He scooted in closer, curling his body into yours and burying his face into your tits. He whined, “Can’t sleep with this thing on me”

“Oh, poor baby. Do you need me to make you feel better?” You dipped a hand down the front of his pajama pants and he automatically pressed his hips forward, used to you soothing him in this way after nightmares. He was already half-hard and you stroked him softly before sliding down the bed. His whimpers at the loss of your breasts exploded into loud moans as you swallowed his length, running your tongue up the underside of his cock and sucking at the tip before taking him back into your throat. Usually, you would take your time but you were feeling particularly wicked tonight, bringing a hand up to cradle his balls as the other forced his wild hips down onto the bed. Once again you pulled away just as his orgasm began to materialize and he threw his head back against the pillows, whines devolving into a choked sob. “We wouldn’t want to mess up your Holter results, now would we?”

Needless to say, he didn’t get any sleep that night.

---

“Well Dr. Reid, this kind of activity is most unusual and frankly quite concerning. Your heart rate even shot up right before you returned the monitor which you again attributed to nerves.” Spencer’s face reddened as he recalled the events that transpired that morning.

---

He was pacing down a vacant hallway in the basement of the Bureau, willing his nerves away. He was sure he would fail. Could you even fail one of these evaluations? Probably. If anyone could fail it would be Spencer. Between the events of the last 24 hours and the fact that Derek was going right before him, he knew he was screwed. And then as if the universe were conspiring against him there you were coming out of the printer room, heels clicking against the floor, hips swaying, a form-fitting blouse leaving just enough to the imagination. And Spencer had a very vivid imagination. Watching you float towards him was really all it took to have him standing at attention, heart rate skyrocketing. But you were ever the overachiever, threading his tie between your fingers and pulling him in for a kiss. Your knee came up between his legs and he automatically rocked into you, still worked up from your relentless denial. You ran your tongue over his bottom lip, deepening the kiss and applying even more pressure. “You’ve been so good, sweetheart. Trying your very hardest to control yourself. It’s adorable.”

It didn’t even occur to Spencer that he had to return the monitor along with his notes in less than 10 minutes, he was cumming in his pants as soon as the praise left your lips, whining into your mouth as he finally attained his long-awaited release. He looked down at you in shock as you stepped back. “Shit, Y/N! What do I do? They’re gonna call me up in 5 minutes!”

You gave him a mocking look of sympathy as you smoothed the wrinkles in his dress shirt. “Guess you better get cleaned up then”

---

“Dr. Reid, I’d like to see you again for a follow-up.” The doctor on the left scribbled their name on the bottom of a form and handed it to Spencer. He gave the paper a quick glance before looking over at Hotch with wide eyes. Help me.

Hotch sighed, taking the form from Spencer and giving it a quick scan before returning it to the evaluation team. “As we know, Dr. Reid has had a tumultuous history with these physical assessments. However, he is an invaluable member of this team and has proven himself in the field time and time again. I don’t see any reason to prolong this evaluation. Now if you’ll excuse us, I believe Dr. Reid was your last appointment of the day”

They protested but Hotch fixed them with his trademark stare and they stood up to leave. “Very well, but Dr. Reid will not be exempt from his yearly fitness test this time.”

Spencer gulped, watching them file out the room. He turned to Hotch thanking him as he took his file and turned to leave, glad it was over. But before he could leave, Hotch cleared his throat. “I take it Y/N will be helping you train for your fitness test”

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #sub!spence coming in his pants is something that can be so personal #lanie's 1k celebration! #unsuitable for work

[sugarxlumps]

Can't Help It

______________________________________________________________

Hey guys! Oml I promise, I'll do other characters after this :') I just couldn't help myself, Gojo Satoru has my heart

Note: Image is not mine, Gojo as a character also isn't my own :)

WARNINGS: degredation, choking, mating press, hot smut ;)

______________________________________________________________

He was too much; Gojo Satoru. He knew too much. Too much of how to get a rise out of you, leaving you flustered and stammering, and you knew this. The moment he got too close to getting you melt at his touch, his long teasing fingers brushing against your thigh, the way he slid his hand at the small of your back to make his way through, even when there was all the space in the world. As he moved past, you could barely make out that he said "Excuse me, miss", his warm breath hitting your ear as he grazed by you, causing you to shiver visibly and your breath hitch. Your head whipped around to follow his steps as he walked away from you. He used any excuse to lay his hands on you. Which is exactly why you avoided him like the plague.

Only when it was absolutely necessary did you ever interact with him, attempting to avoid his dangerously sweet touches that wreaked havoc on your body as it was. You could only imagine how euphoric his hands would feel on the rest of your body, especially to your neglected cunt that’s been craving attention… his attention specifically. You've tried to extinguish the fire in your body that craves his cock at night yourself, but it just isn't the same.

But of course Gojo knew this; making his way back home from missions and he hears you with your windows open. But your avoidance of him definitely doesn't go unnoticed either. You train 1:1 with Nanami twice a week; not being a direct student of his own, it's surprising he commits that much time to you along with the other things he's got going on. Training days are the days that Gojo grumbles about as he could think of a much better use of that time "Damn, I could be making her scream right now” He finds himself murmuring aloud. But with the strings he's pulled on Nanami, you won't be able to avoid him any longer and he'll have you all to himself.

_____________

"What? That doesn't even make any sense, why would they do that?" You questioned Nanami in annoyance, clear to hear through the speaker of his phone.

"I'm the wrong person to be asking that, y/n. I'm in no mood to debate this. I won't be coming back until next week, so just take the week off." Nanami huffed, his tone almost apologetic; he knew how dedicated you were to training.

You sighed in annoyance. "No. You know I can't do that."

"Okay, then ask Gojo."

You froze, a silence coming over the line. "Y/n?"

"No. I can't do that either." You clenched you teeth. Damn, did you really have to? Of course, he just had to be the only teacher left.

"Then I don't know what to tell you, y/n. It's either him, or take the week off" And with that, Nanami fared you goodbye through the speaker and hung up.

Well damn, this is the true test of dedication huh? Well just no fun and games then you thought to yourself. You gotta get to work. You commit reluctantly, your body already tensing up.

After hesitating, I finally dial Gojo and a few rings go by until you hear his familiar voice.

"Hey there pretty. Now to what do I owe the pleasure?" Gojo teases. You gulp at the nickname, but roll your eyes as if to convince yourself.

"Look, just calling to see if you can train with me this week. Usual times I do with Nanami. Yes or no?" You ask plainly.

Gojo chuckles over the speaker, his husky voice sending shivers to your spine. "Jeez, so cut and dry huh? I might do with some manners, y/n" He remarks playfully, his plans already falling into place. He knows you'd try to be acting like the straightest arrow with him, but he knows just how to make you crumble.

You huff before speaking again. "Can you train with me this week… please" You ask hesitantly.

"There, see? Not too bad, right?" You can hear the smirk in his voice, imagining that damned wicked smirk of his that could make your breath hitch.

"8:30 tonight, my place"

"Y-you're place?" You stutter a bit, not expecting him to offer his place. "Why not the studio?"

"Don't worry, I've got one at my place. You forget who I am, doll." He purrs the nickname, making you part your mouth and a small flame ignite in your core. "I'm the greatest sorcerer after all; work hard play hard all from the comfort of my own home."

You think it over. I mean I guess it'd be closer to home than training on campus, a plus since training gets excruciating to walk home from.

"Okay, fine. I'll be there" You huff. You hang up and sigh once more. This should be interesting.

_____________

You wince in pain, as your body thuds to the floor from where Gojo had knocked you back. You're quick to get up, holding the side of your waist.

"You've got quite the fire there, sweetness" He smirks, shifting his glasses down to wink at you. He's been shooting flirty remarks all through session, only 30 minutes having passed with you two sparring and it's getting you irritated. But only at the fact that he knows just what to say to get you all riled up with heat rising to your cheeks.

You lunge at him again, but he grabs your arm to pull your body in and spinning you around to face him. He's pinned one hand behind your back and holding your other by your wrist, pinning it to his chest. "You're getting ahead of yourself, y/n. You're becoming a little predictable. Loosen up a bit, hm sweetie?" He breathes on your lips, grazing too dangerously close to them as wetness begins to drip from your cunt.

You try to compose yourself, and annoyance overcomes you once again. You elbow him and swing at him again, this time imbuing cursed energy into your fist as it burns black, preparing for a black flash.

He swiftly catches your fist in his, the power of the contact between your swing and his hand causing the wall behind him to cave into a dent. He grips your wrists and turns your back to him as he pulls you up against his chest, your head hitting his shoulder.

You grunt in pain at the contact.

"Gotta admit that burned a little, princess" He growled into your ear, only sending more of your slick gushing to your pussy and threatening to leak through your panties and onto your thighs. "I might have to punish you for that one."

"Gojo, please." Your voice cracks. You weren't even sure of what you were pleading for; for him to continue? For him to stop? You couldn't help yourself any longer, and it was all lost upon you now as you could feel the hardness of his bulge through his pants grinding up against you.

"Please what y/n? Want me to stop? Or keep going? You're going to have to be specific with me darling" He suggests, his grip on your wrists tightening and grinding his hard-on harder against you, the contact almost lifting up your skirt itself. You groan unconsciously at the feeling of how big he was with his pants still constricting him, giving Gojo the answer he already knew, but he wanted it spilling from your lips specifically.

"P-please, don't stop" You gasp as he nips at your neck, sucking harshly only to lick at the tender spot as if to heal it. His hand releases your wrists to grope your breasts through your uniform, slowly unbuttoning the jacket and throwing it aside.

"That's what I like to hear" Gojo chuckles darkly in your ear, ripping the rest of the top of your uniform off, revealing your bra. He unhooks it swiftly, letting your tits drop bare in front of him as he gazes down at them.

"Shit, y/n" He breathes, quick to roll them between his fingers as he continues to trail kisses down your neck and licks stripes up to your ear, eliciting lewd moans from you. He dips his hand between your legs, running a finger along your clothed folds, feeling your slick instantly.

"Damn baby, all for me? Is this how wet you are when you're touching yourself at night moaning my name?" He seethes, his voice making you tremble and you cheeks flush pink at embarrassment that he could hear you all this time trying to relieve your thirst for him and his touch. You could do nothing but moan in admittance.

He chuckles at your response. He hooks his fingers around your skirt and the hem of your panties, sliding them both off in unison. He turns you around to face him, wanting to see the look on your face when he finally touches you in the spot you needed him most.

He doesn't wait to slide two of his fingers into you, your slick walls clenching desperately around his digits as you moan and gasp loudly at the unexpected stretch and sting from him entering you just with his fingers. You clutch onto his arm tightly, mentally cursing to yourself why you're the one completely naked while he's here still fully clothed.

"See baby? Look at you" Gojo groans into your ear at the tightness of your pussy clenching around his fingers, already anticipating how you'll feel wrapped around his cock that's straining painfully against his pants. "Making such a mess on my fingers, and I've barely done anything" He begins to pump his fingers, curling them to hit your sweet spot repeatedly with dangerous accuracy. You moan loudly at the sensation, heat continuing to build in your core and your body tingling.

"G-gojo" You pant breathlessly, clutching onto him for dear life as your legs give out, leaning on him for support, silently thanking him for being as strong as he is.

"Mmm" He groans at how sinful you moan his name. "Such a good girl for me"

Your pussy clenches tighter around his digits, pushing him to add a third as you yelp at the stinging stretch, now clawing at the back of his neck.

Gojo laughs sadistically, "So you want me to talk to you like that, huh?" He asks rhetorically, your body and moans already agreeing.

He continues the thrust his fingers into you, curling them against your walls to graze perfectly on your sweet spot, bringing you closer to the relief you've been craving since you laid eyes on him.

"G-gojo… I-I'm.. I'm gonna" You try to say, but the words fail to gather together in a coherent sentence.

"What's that y/n? What do you need?" He urges on, only thrusting his fingers faster into you to push you over the edge.

"Oh my god, Satoru! I-I'm cumming!" You moan, cutting you off as he presses his lips hungrily to yours to swallow your moans. You bite his lip, causing a moan to escape his own lips. He hungrily massages your breast as he continues to finger you to ride out your orgasm as you trembling in front of him at his touch. You were his.

He gives you a moment to recollect yourself and catch your breath, showering you with feather-light kisses down your collarbone.

"Please Satoru… I need you" You whisper, desire pooling in your eyes and dripping in your tone as you palm his hard-on through his pants that twitches under your touch.

"Since you asked so nicely…" He smirks, that damn smirk that makes your knees weak as he continues to hold you up. He clasps his hand together to warp you both, and within a blink of an eye your surroundings are no longer that of the studio, but of his room; dark with only the moonlight shining through big elegant windows.

"How can I deny such a request, when you're this hot and bothered?" He caresses your face, cupping it in his hand as he runs his thumb over the bottom of your lip. "Such a pretty slut for me" He growls lowly.

At that, your pussy clenches again, sending heat to your core and biting down on his thumb, earning a groan from him. He quickly puts a hand to your throat, squeezing the sides of it enough to have your head to nod back slightly and your eyes flutter behind your eyelids as you moan.

"Mm so you want it like that?" He laughs as he swiftly picks you up to set you down on the bed.

"You dirty little thing" He licks his lips at the sight of you finally splayed out on his bed for him as he unbuttons his uniform and unbuckling his pants, discarding them to the floor only to leave him clad in his briefs.

You drool at the sight of him, both your mouth and your pussy watering at the sight of him strip in front of you. The sight you've been waiting for, for what feels like ages now. Your eyes rake over his figure as you prop yourself on your elbows. Looking over how muscular and toned his muscles are with each movement he makes, how big the bulge in his briefs are, how massive his bare frame is to yours, and how celestial his eyes are as he devours your own figure with such dark lust and desire, making heat only ignite further within you.

He pushes his way through your thighs, settling himself between them as he kisses trails from your thighs to your navel, and reaching your breasts to suck on your nipple tenderly, kneading them between his teeth. You arch your back at the sensation, entangling your fingers in his silver hair as you gasp and your brows furrow. His hand massages your breast and travels down to cup your cunt, his fingers grazing the opening of your folds. He lowers his head down between your thighs, taking in the sight of your glistening pussy that he's gotten all to himself.

"F-fuck, Satoru, just -" You plead, but before you could finish he puts a hand to your throat harshly.

"Patience, princess" He seethes, giving kitten licks to the outer folds of your cunt just for a taste. "Now that I finally have you, I'm taking my time. Besides, isn't this what you wanted? For me to have my way with you?" He smirks as you glance down at him, regretting that you did. The devilish glint hazing over his eyes sending heat waves to your pussy. He finally delves his tongue through your folds without warning and settling to suck on your throbbing clit as he enters two fingers into you, pumping and curling them.

You thrash your head back, clawing at his forearms and shoulders as he pries your thighs a part with his hands. You feel the familiar wave of an orgasm beginning to wash over you again as he continues to curl his fingers into your g-spot and circle his slick tongue around your clit, quenching his thirst with the juices of your cunt as he laps up every last drop.

"Mmm… Satoru, I-I'm close" You warn him, your body becoming a feverish mess as you claw at him desperately, as Gojo smirks at the thought of having such marks in the morning as a reminder of tonight.

"Are you now?" He immediately pulls away, leaving you to throw your head back and groan in frustration, taking your eyes off him for a brief moment enough for him to remove his briefs. The next time you look back at him, your eyes widen hungrily at his cock, adoring how perfect it looks, yet wondering if it'd even fit.

"Don't worry, baby. Daddy's gonna take very good care of you tonight" He purrs, sliding back between you , kissing and sucking the sweet spot of your neck.

"But you have to be the one to tell me exactly what you want" He adds with a chuckle, clearly amused at how you pout slightly, so desperate to have him inside you as you tug on his waist lightly in attempt to pull him closer to you.

He nudges the tip of his cock at your entrance as he lowers his head to graze his lips against yours. "C'mon y/n, you can do it. Tell me what you've been wanting this whole time, baby" He teases raspily, the same hunger in his voice also evident as he tries to hold himself back.

"Please fuck me Satoru" He whimper, surrendering completely as you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders.

With that, he delves his cock through your tight folds, gripping and clenching around every inch of him as he eventually bottoms out, causing you to moan in unison.

"Damn, your pussy's taking my cock so fucking well baby" He grunts as he continues to thrust into you at a powerful pace. "What a perfect slut you make" He smiles cockily, slamming roughly into you as moans continue to fall from your lips. "That's right princess, let the whole school know who fucks you this good" He urges

Your eyes roll behind your eyelids at the euphoric sensation of Gojo stretching you out, filling you up so well that you see a slight bulge in your stomach when he thrusts into you, hitting your cervix and your g-spot every time. The sounds of your hips crashing and the sounds your pussy makes as he thrusts into you mercilessly are too much, already feeling heat building up in your core once again.

"You've been so desperate for my cock, isn't that right princess? Look at you, screaming and begging for me to fuck you like a bitch in heat" He seethes, lowering himself to suck harshly on your nipple, causing you to arch your back as he looks back up at you "How does it feel now that you've got the real thing?" He asks, pushing further into your as your legs press against his shoulders, folding them more onto your chest as he continues to pump his cock into you, pressing into your cervix.

You moan loudly at how deep he hits you, his adjustment causing his cock to hit deeper on your g-spot, your orgasm approaching embarrassingly quick. You continue to moan thoughtlessly, your mind too hazy to begin formulating a response. He puts a hand to your throat and picks up his pace slightly, making you yelp and gasp.

"I demand an answer, pretty" He growls this time, his eyes hungry with desire to hear you fall apart for him.

"Y-yes Satoru! It feels so fucking good!" You cry out, tears now dripping across your cheeks. "Satoru, please." You whimper, "I-I'm gonna cum"

"Cum baby, give it to me" He groans, thrusting relentlessly a couple more times until you unravel before him, completely becoming undone as you claw at his back in desperation, only fueling him more to continue thrusting deep into you to ride out your second orgasm of the night. Once he feels you slightly relax under him, he folds you over more, completely this time. With knees pressed back into the mattress, giving him all and complete access to your pussy to pound it just how he likes, how he's always wanted to.

He groans to keep himself together, close from cumming at this sight alone at how beautiful you look beneath him. "Damn sweetness, you've got me riled up here." he pants, his eyes cast with lust and carnal desire as he looks at you. " Do you know how long I've been waiting to touch you like this? To fuck you like this?" He caresses your jaw, his fingers trailing down to your collarbone and down to your breast to roll your nipple in his fingers. He dips down to connect his lips greedily to yours, emotions spilling out into the kiss as your tongues swirl around each other, everything all at once making you dizzy as you moan sweetly into his mouth, tugging at his hair to elicit a moan to slip from his own as it vibrates against your lips. "To kiss you like that" He says huskily, desire overcoming him.

He pushes himself into you, your walls suffocating around his cock as he groans at the feeling of it. Your mouth parts in a silent scream, sure that you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow with how he’s stretching you out. He's thrusting even deeper into you now, with more raw, carnal desire than before if it were even possible. You mouth parts as you moan loudly without any regards as to who hears you. Your sopping pussy squelching as he slams his hips into yours, the sight of him fucking you into oblivion as his bright blue eyes devour yours, licking his lips ravenously.

"Satoru" You moan sinfully, so much so Gojo has to bite his lip to stop his own eyes from rolling to the back of his eyelids.

"G-gojo, it's t-too much" You moan, putting a hand lightly to his abdomen in a failed attempt to get him to slow down. You've cum so hard, you've never even brought yourself to cum this intensely, this many times consecutively.

"Too much, huh? Already fucked out on my cock, sweetness?" He chuckles, yet adoring the sight of you fucked out on his cock. All you could do was nod and whimper in response.

"Too bad, baby. You think I'm gonna stop here after I've heard you moaning my name so many times by yourself? Such a needy slut" He whispers salaciously into your ear, grunting occasionally with how rough he's pounding himself into you.

Your pussy clenches at his words, more tears streaming down your cheeks with nothing but moans of his name and curses from your lips calling out to him. He wipes them away gently, a harsh contrast to how hard he continues to slam his thick cock into you, a contrast to how his infinite blue eyes pierce into you.

"That's right, y/n." He smiles "You'll take it all like a good girl, right?" He licks a stripe up your nick to nibble on a sweet spot by your collarbone, causing you to only moan louder. "Let everyone know who's fucking cunt this is" He growls lowly. He slips two fingers into your open mouth, your tongue and mouth sucking on them instinctively. He groans at the sight of you like this, folded over sucking on his fingers as saliva trails down the side of your mouth, your eyes and body surrendering to him completely as he dedicates this moment to memory.

"You're mine, princess" He remarks possessively before removing his fingers from your mouth, a string of saliva still connecting from your lips to the tip of his digits. He brings them down to rub small circles on your throbbing neglected clit, causing you to scream in desperation and euphoria, your back arching to him slightly in the position you're in. You're pussy grips even tighter around his cock at his possessive words making you his. Another wave of pleasure begins washing over you, threatening to push you off a new edge as he drives you near the brink of being overstimulated.

"Fuck, good girl, just like that" He pants, as he continues thrust unforgivingly into you.

"Satoru, p-please!" You moan loudly, almost screaming desperately for him, only to for him to cut you off with a hand to your throat. "Say it, baby. Tell daddy what you need" He exhales, eyes engulfing yours completely.

"Please make me cum" You mewl, a couple of more tears streaming down your face as your body is on the brink of uncoiling the spring that he's wound up so tightly. He slamming himself into you in a slightly faster pace, his thrusts getting sloppier as you feel his cock twitch inside of you, indicating he was also close to his own climax.

"Fuck baby, cum for me" He demands, finally allowing your body to release the most intense waves of orgasm you've ever felt, your body on a new high as he continues to thrust into you, your climax fueling his own to follow after. He slows and stills into you, his cock still twitching as he coats the last of his cum along the walls of your cunt.

He removes himself slowly with a groan, laying beside you and quick to pull you to his chest.

"No more avoiding me, okay?" He exhales raspily, gently moving your hair down from your shoulders to place a kiss there.

"Okay" You hum happily as you nuzzle deeper into his chest, fatigue overcoming you as you both lay together.

#gojo smut #gojou smut #jjk smut #gojou x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[tainted-wine]

Primal Dissonance

Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

So anon was like:

And since I’m total ass at writing short drabbles, or maybe it’s because they called me senpai, I ended up with a whole-ass fic. This took a different route than planned but I hope you enjoy, anon!

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Dubcon, Pheromones, Mindbreak, Feral Hawks, Rough and Public Sex, Tit Abuse. This totally isn’t as dark as it sounds.

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Hawks has been getting noisy. Not in the usual sense; he’s always a motormouth. No, he’s been making sounds that you’ve never heard him make.

At first you thought he was sick and something was irritating his throat, but on one occasion when you offered him water after hearing the sound, he almost looked offended. You concluded that it wasn’t an illness.

You later noticed that the noise often happens when it’s just the two of you together. During late night movie viewings at his place, he’d hold you close and release a constant hum, the vibrations from his chest and wings soothing enough to make you drift into sleep in his arms. You never saw the look of disappointment in his face as he decided to cuddle you for the rest of the night.

Just a few days later, he spots you during one of his patrols and presents you with a surprise expensive gift. A ruby pendant, the same brilliant shade as his feathers, was placed around your neck by gentle gloved hands.

“Hawks—why—what did I do to deserve this?” You asked while your eyes reflected the gemstone’s sparkles.

“Just wanted to give a pretty gift to my pretty girl.” He gave you a kiss, and waves of soft hums leave his mouth and into yours, flowing through your body, stimulating all of your nerves and triggering pleasant shivers. One makeout session later, and you both pull back to lock eyes. He’s looking at you expectantly, but you don’t even know what the hell he’s expecting.

You look to the side awkwardly. “Thank you, Hawks. It’s beautiful, but I…don’t have anything to give in return. This was a complete surprise, after all.”

His eye twitches, but he smiles and embraces you. “That’s fine, chickadee.”

A pigeon appears during your hug, and the soft coos emanating from it give you an epiphany.

“A pigeon! That’s what it is! You’re cooing like a pigeon!”

This time it’s his smile that twitches. Did you say something wrong? Whatever it is, he brushes it off with a half-hearted laugh. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

That was also the day you noticed his rising body temperature. You asked once again if he was feeling ill, and at least this time he didn’t appear to be upset when he answered ‘no.’

On the next night you spent in his home, he—and you’re still not over this—took your hand and pulled you in for a dance. It wasn’t some silly jig in which he blindly moved to a random pop song, it was a slow classic love song, and he moved both of you in an elegant dance fitting for a ballroom.

It was the last thing you expected from the hero that normally took you on KFC dates or, if he had the time, reserve a spot at his favorite yakitori place. But there was no way you could say that you didn’t like the way his feet glided across the floor, wings acting as a living cape that made each of his movements look all the more graceful, and you followed his pace as best as you could.

You clung onto him more tightly than intended when he dipped you after a spin, sharp avian eyes boring into you before he buries his face in your neck, and that’s when you feel more than hear the cooing return. It’s a tune that never fails to make you feel so warm and safe; you have no idea how his gentle sounds have such influence over you.

He looks pleased by your relaxed state, pulling you back up and brushing a few stray hairs out of your face. “So?”

You smiled and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I didn’t know you had such grace, Hawks. Now hurry up, or we’re going to miss the movie for tonight!”

You scampered off into the kitchen to prepare the popcorn, completely oblivious to the baffled look your boyfriend was giving behind your back.

A few days later and you’re more certain than ever that he’s coming down with something, because now there’s a constant sheen of sweat all over his skin, and his breath sounded labored even when he was just sitting around. Since he ignores all of your pleas to stay home for just a day or two, you come up with another solution. Hawks pouts like a child when you tell him that a little nature and clean air might restore his health, but he still accepts your offer for a date at a nature park because hey, spending a day in natural beauty with you sounds great.

You practically dragged him into a bus after telling him several times that he shouldn’t tire himself out prematurely by flying both of you there. One long scenic drive later, you both arrive at your beautiful destination. The park was huge and lush with flora of all kinds, from tree-filled paths to endless flower fields.

Exploring everything this paradise has to offer with Hawks sounds like a dream, but your main goal was to loosen him up and help him feel better, so you avoided the populated areas, passing the cycling roads, the play areas, the bug houses, all of the charming attractions until you reached the long stretches of vibrant colors. The flower park.

You and Hawks began a slow stroll hand-in-hand, taking in the seemingly endless blooms, the trees shedding petals onto the walkway—all of it served as the most delicious treat for your eyes.

But when you looked at the winged hero to see if he was enjoying the scenery as much as you were, you saw that he was staring at you. His face was slightly flushed, but you couldn’t tell if it was the result of his feverish temperature or if he’s finding this whole date very romantic.

“The flowers are over there, birdbrain,” you joked with a squeeze of his hand.

His wing wrapped around you and pulled you in closer, encasing you in his abnormal heat. “The only flower that matters is right here.” There was a rough breathlessness to his voice that made the otherwise corny line sound sensual.

And then the coos returned, bringing you back to that pleasant world where everything was warm, soft, and safe. The red feathers surrounding you quivered and rippled like ocean waves of scarlet. You were supposed to be making him feel at ease here, not the other way around.

A chorus of chirps snapped you out of your stupor. You broke out of the hypnotic embrace and spot a bunch of small bouncing figures in the white lilac tree in front of you. “Aww, look at all of the little tits, Hawks!” You point at the flock of singing critters.

Hawks snorted immaturely.

Before you could withdraw your arm, one of the Japanese tits flew over and perched on your still-extended finger, leaving you bug-eyed and your mouth agape. “Hi there! You’re a brave little guy, aren’t you?” You said softly, hoping not to startle it. It tweeted in response, fluffing up its black and white plumage as it looked up at you curiously. “Hawks! It’s so cute!”

Red wings bristled, but you were too enamored with the friendly bird on your hand to even look back at your boyfriend. It continued to sing, the tits sitting in the tree joining in to create an adorable medley of chirps, tweets, and peeps. “Such a nice sound, I never realized how amazing these little guys are.” You keep watching the beady eyes that stare right back at you, feeling the bird’s little feet move quickly as it adjusted itself to get more comfortable.

And with a powerful slug from a hardened red feather out of nowhere, the tiny tit is knocked off of your finger and sent flying like a fucking golf ball.

Your pointing hand was still out as you looked on, eyes and mouth now wide open in horror instead of awe. The poor bird managed to right itself before it hit the ground, flapping frantically to ride the light breeze and fly past its tree of brethren and off into the distance, its sloppy turns and sudden drops betraying how dazed it was.  

With your short-lived friend out of your sight, you turned to the man that ruined your magical bonding session, multiple negative emotions boiling inside you and ready to spill right onto this bastard. “Hawks!” You’re prepared to blow his ears off with every ounce of frustration, every concern that’s been plaguing you for the past week thanks to the strange changes that he refuses to talk about, but then you freeze.

The man’s face has darkened, eyes narrowed with its pupils shrunken into beady slits, lips pressed together in a tight frown—he looked enraged. But the terrifying look wasn’t directed at you, he was looking up at the innocent tits still residing in the tree and paying no mind to the violent treatment of one of their own. As his wings slowly spread with feathers sharpened, your chest constricted once you realized what was about to happen.

“Stop!” You threw yourself at him, grabbing at the outstretched limbs in a pitiful attempt to stop them, the bladed edges cutting your hands. It was still enough to shock and prevent him from launching any of the deadly weapons at the birds. You felt his feathers return to their soft fluffy state as he stumbled from your weight. “What the hell are you doing? What, are you pissed that it chose my hand instead of yours? The hell is wrong with you?”

Now he was aiming the glare at you, and you couldn’t help but shrink under the intimidation. His voice was shockingly low. “Just what game are you playing at here? Gushing over another bird’s song right in front of me?”

You eyed his still-expanded wings as you tried to make sense of what he said. “What?” Was all you could say.

“Here I was thinking you just had extremely high standards, but maybe you’re the type that likes to play hard to get, or make your guy jealous and see how he handles it.” He took a step toward you, and you took one back. “Well let me tell you, I’m not handling it very well.”

What he was implying would have made you burst into laughter if he didn’t look so threatening right now. “You’re…jealous? Of the bird that was on my finger?”

He laughed, or at least tried to, but the shortness of breath made him cough. The sudden anger must be worsening whatever has been making him hot and throaty for the past days. He needs to calm down for his own damn sake. “I guess I shouldn’t be, should I? Not for a girl who gets wet over any bird that does something as simple as approach her.”

“Excuse me?” Did you hear that correctly? No joke, did you really hear that shit correctly?

Hawks just keeps on going, taking your bewilderment as more mockery. “I give you something shiny, you don’t say anything.” A flash of several feathers and you feel your arms being pulled in front of you, the red tufts tying your wrist together.

“I put on a nice dance I practiced for, and you don’t say anything. Did you even notice that I cleaned and decorated the room that night?” You’re panicking from your tied hands and don’t see him fire another barrage that goes for your ankles, their tugs forcing you to lose your balance and fall hard onto the ground with a pained cry. Your hands are forcefully pinned above your head. “Hell, you seem to enjoy my song every time you hear it, so what’s the deal?”

While your heart is on the verge of exploding from its anxious beats, the gears in your head are spinning as you try to figure out how exactly this whole miscommunication even happened, but they keep jamming, filling your head with sparks and smoke of pure confusion. “What song? You haven’t been singing anything!” You yell as you fight against the feather-made cuffs around your hands and feet, but there was no breaking free. They suddenly felt as strong and durable as elastic metal.

Hurt flashes across his face and you don’t understand why goddammit, but it’s quickly masked with another scowl. “You mean the song that’s lulled you to sleep? The song that never fails to put you at ease every time? I can sense it, you know. How calm and pleased you feel whenever you hear it. I know it’s not the loud obnoxious tune of a songbird,” he glances at the tree that continues to emanate various calls as he kneels over you, nearly straddling your waist. Smart of him to keep his groin out of the range of your knees. “But you still enjoy it, right? I’m not too upset that you compared it to a shitty pigeon.”

You only stutter in shaky breaths as he lowers himself and presses all of his weight onto you, your eyes shut as he nuzzles your face lovingly. He feels like a furnace, the sweat from his face slathering onto yours from his rough rubs.

That’s when you smell something potent. You’ve picked up traces of it from him throughout the week, a strange but not unpleasant mixture of salt and sweet. You assumed it to be some sort of shampoo or cologne, but now it’s hitting you full force and it’s making your body…respond. With each inhale, the exotic scent sends a tingle down your abdomen and a release of wetness that dampens your clothing. What the hell is happening to you?

Hawks pulls away and sniffs the air. Your feminine aroma has him moan so suggestively that it makes your core heat up even more. “Oh, so this is getting you going?” He questions in a judgmental tone before something appears to cross his mind, and he laughs with a slap to his forehead. “I’m such an idiot. I’ve been doing this all wrong, haven’t I? You’re not a bird.” He kisses at the side of your face and licks the shell of your ear before whispering, “You’re a mammal. You don’t choose a mate by their pretty gifts or fancy dances.”

The lustful haze invading your mind almost distracts you from whatever is tugging at your pants and pulling them down. “H-Hawks…” You accidentally moaned. You were too out of it to even properly convey your worry. Your pants are removed and something tickles your hips to remove your panties next—that’s when you identify them as more feathers.

“With mammals, males just take what they want. They catch her, hold her down, and fuck her on the spot.”

You gasp when your lower body is completely stripped and exposed—a mistake—Hawks’s intoxicating smell rushes into your mouth and nostrils, making you clench and gush. He lifts himself just enough for the living binds around your wrists to pull and drag you off of the stone walkway and into the blooming batches. The flowers were just tall enough to probably hide you from anyone at a distance, but the winged man crawling over and sitting in front of your feet would easily give you away. “Hawks, someone…might see us,” you mutter.

He only chuckles. “Good, I want them to see. Are you little bastards watching?” He looks up at the lilac tree that now looms right over both of you. The resting tits have gone quiet, most likely intimidated by the large bird-human hybrid that continued to glare at them.

The response was ridiculous enough to temporarily free you from your trance. “I’m not worried about the birds, you dumbass.”

“Hmph, of course you’re not. You’d let them all join in if I’d let you, wouldn’t you?”

You have so many questions about how that would even work.

But you’re interrupted by the feathers around your ankles pulling your feet apart, easily overcoming your resistance and spreading you wide open for the hero in front of you. You have to look away from just how soaked you are, juices flowing from your swollen pussy and onto the soft soil, some of it sticking to your parted thighs in strands. The sight makes Hawks salivate.

“I’m at the peak of my rut and I’m tired of waiting. Gonna make you mine.”

It’s all he says before his entire mouth is on your cunt, tearing a startled cry from your throat. The peaceful sounds of the wind and rustling leaves are overshadowed by the absolutely filthy slurps, sucks, and growls between your legs. He was being a greedy savage that simply wanted to drink you up. There were no careful methods or patterns, just a hungry tongue that lapped at every inch of you and lips that sucked on anything they could grip.

You could barely even writhe from the onslaught, what with your arms pinned over your head and your feet held down so strongly that you couldn’t even move them across the dirt. You kept your sights on the rich colors of various flowers that encircled you as the sweet-smelling haze enveloped you again, enhancing your pleasure. Despite Hawks’ sudden loss of his oral skills, the feral nature of it all—the smothered snarls against your sex, the startling feel of his teeth carelessly grazing your sensitive flesh, and the lewd sight of his face covered in your glistening juices as his glassy eyes opened and stared into yours as he ate you alive—his voracity had you boiling over.

He gulped your essence loudly, welcoming every drop of the orgasmic flood into his mouth. All of the colors in your vision blurred more with each mind-numbing pulse. You weren’t even aware of the shameless wails that left you until the blissful waves finally subsided.

Once he had his fill, he finally pulled away from your mound and boy did he look like a hot mess. His cheeks were a deep red that was slowly spreading across his cum-covered face, a beady string of your fluids hanging from his lips before dripping off. He was climbing back over you and when the fuck did he take his pants off? He must have unbuttoned and removed them while he was licking you into heaven.

He still manages to look smug while he takes in your spent form, your slightly parted lips impossible to resist. Your mouth was suddenly locked with his, the breath you were desperately trying to get back stolen from you. And then the scent returns, this time accompanied with a powerful salted lemon flavor that assaults your taste buds. The taste of your own pussy was insignificant; his aroma in both your nose and mouth is nearly suffocating, your still-recovering inner walls already squeezing out more of your slick.

His tongue thrashes about in your mouth to paint his sweet saliva on every spot he could reach. You swallow it up thirstily and feel an immediate response in your throat that somewhat frightens you. Numbness overtakes your mouth and your throat relaxes completely; you felt like it was suddenly impossible to choke.

Hawks messily pulls away, breathing heavily and licking his lips. “Look at you. All it takes is a whiff and taste of a rutting male to turn you into a submissive little bitch.” You’ve never heard him speak like that, but like every action he’s taken since you’ve been at his mercy, it doesn’t fail to arouse you for reasons you still don’t understand. “Do you want some more? Hmm?”

You’re nodding before your crippled mind can comprehend the question.

The drugged kiss has you dizzy. You’re doing your best to keep track of his movements as he straddles your chest, his cock coming into focus and pressing against your lips. He doesn’t give you a command, you simply open up like a trained whore.

You’re moaning from the addicting taste of his length that pushes all the way to the back of your throat. Once his pubes are flush against your nose, your eyes roll back and you lose all sense of…everything. Everything except for that exhilarant fragrance and flavor.

Even as he begins to move in your mouth, your tongue swirls all around the sweet meat in an attempt to taste him all over. You’re throbbing wildly, but the feathers prevent you from bringing your thighs together for some much needed friction.

He was thrusting in and out at a pace that should have you gagging, but you take the pounding smoothly. Everything was murky, save for the pleasure that was slowly consuming you. You think the birds are singing again, maybe.

Something was smacking against your chin…rather loudly, you think. Hawks’s balls. How obscene, the way he’s hunched over you and fucking your face so roughly, but it’s hard to feel embarrassed when it’s all making you feel so damn good. Drool gathers and drips down your mouth. Your throat has become a second pussy, and he was fucking it like one.

The scent has your entire body on fire and you wish so badly that you could touch yourself. It was too powerful, each breath filling you with more burning tension. Your desperate whines came out as bubbly gurgles around his hammering dick. Your climax is dangling right at the edge. All you need is just the smallest touch on your drenched, deprived pussy.

His thick intrusion suddenly leaves your mouth, allowing oxygen to properly enter your lungs and for the pooling saliva to be swallowed. Hawks says something as you cough and sputter, but everything is still too muffled.

“Good……….not yet……….finish inside.” That was all that you were able to catch. You frankly don’t care. You immediately want his overpowering scent back.

When something pushes past the entrance between your legs, you cum instantly. Your scream is silent, or maybe you just can’t hear it, as your restrained limbs twitch like mad from the excruciatingly pleasurable contractions.

You’re already being fucked roughly while you’re still coming down from your orgasmic high. You’re rocked against the flowers and the soft earth beneath, your peaceful surroundings a stark contrast to the raunchy act currently taking place among them.

Hawks leans in once again, and you have to turn away and hold your breath because you truly felt like one more whiff of that mouth-watering smell would bring you the most euphoric death. His mouth drew closer to your ear, harsh pants in sync with his rapid thrusts. There’s no way a body was meant to handle so much stimulation, yet you didn’t want it to end.

You wanted this powerful man and everything that he had. You want him to fill your womb with his seed…bear his strong and healthy offspring…then let him take you all over again…

There’s a soft rumble that brings you back down to earth, clearing your mind just enough so that all of your senses work properly again. The smudged colors return to their original shapes, and the cooing that vibrates through both of your bodies can be heard loud and clear. His song.

“That’s it, baby. I’ve got you right here. Just give in to me.” Hawks sounds on the verge of losing his voice, weak and graveled, but his singing and hips aren’t letting up.

Finally, fucking finally, the feathers release your limbs. Ignoring how boneless they feel, you use all of your strength to wrap your arms tightly around his neck, and your legs lock right above his ass. You cling onto him like a parasite and moan freely, trusting his low and soft vocals to keep you grounded as his citrus aura captivates you again.

Your involuntary clenches ruin him and take him to his peak, several more hard and deep pumps bringing you to your final climax. Both of you cry out loudly enough to scare away the tits still resting in the tree, the small flock flying off to find a quieter perch.

--------------------

Good. That showed the little bastards.

Hawks smiled triumphantly as the small birds fled the erotic scene. Once he was certain that none of them were coming back, he returned his attention to you. Your chest heaved with each audible breath, your entire body drenched in sweat, just like his. He laid a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking lovingly as you close your eyes for much-needed rest after almost losing your mind.

He did it. He finally claimed you, and all he had to do was just show a little dominance…and expose you to a hefty dose of pheromones. It was clearly way more than you could handle—maybe the face-fucking wasn’t the best idea, but it looked like you were enjoying yourself enough. No harm done.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Hawks was a cool-headed man. He’s managed to stay calm and collected in the direst of situations. Still, when he slowly turns around to see a man dressed in the park’s staff uniform, blushing at the sight of a sweaty couple with no pants on among the innocent blossoms, he can’t help but feel just a wee bit fucked.

“H-Hawks? It’s really you? Wha-?” The poor guy is lost for words from the fact that he just found the number 2 hero banging someone in public.

Eh, he’s talked his way out of tighter spots.

With a smile, the winged hero sends a few feathers to his discarded pants and withdraws a pen from its pockets.

“How about a deal, buddy? An autograph from yours truly and a coupon for my merch. All you gotta do is walk away and forget what you just saw.”

#hawks #smut #birdbrain hawks #hawks x reader #keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #tw dubcon #tw animal harm

[assortedvillainvault]

You were so right with that HK/Maleficent post 👏

He isn't on the list, but, do you think you could do some x reader headcanons for NOS-4-A2?

If not, maybe Shen or Beast? Or all 3 but only if you feel up to that many of course

I'm so glad you liked it I, uh, ended up with way more than I thought I would :D best evil OTP

AIGHT so I guess I'm finally confessing that I find NOS-4-A2 a goddamn delight and it's entirely your fault istg yet ANOTHER obscure fave is born several years too late what even is this:

NOS-4-A2 x Reader:

ok straight up this bot? a feral gremlin-gentleman

one second you're getting everything - the back of the hand kisses, 'secret admirer' notes, surprise gifts, romantic flights in the sunset - the next you're getting a goof that 'mwahahaha's' at his own jokes and gets caught practicing his evil entrances

where did he even get that fog machine Nos this is an ice cream and batteries date stop cackling for 5 mins

the puns oh god the puns look as his partner this aspect of him is inescapable. idk what to tell you. He'll love it if you laugh with him but he's also going to take delight in groans of exasperation

He's a machine, so if his partner is organic there are going to be some miscommunications in terms of basic needs, but once brought to his attention those needs are going to be met 200% and he isn't skimping out either. His partner deserves only the best!

if you want to assist in his evil schemes he's going to be ecstatic. He's going to will smith pose the entire time, the drama will be upped to 11, Star Commmand Will have footage of him dipping you for a snog mid battle, you are going to be the couple so disgustingly in love that they can't even be teased about it.

The kind of man to steal a planet-eating lazer and carve 'Will you go out with me?' into the largest planetary body visible to you and wait for a genuine answer.

Lord Shen x Reader:

Shen is a charming bastard, but he's not quite as charming as he thinks he is. There's that lovely unhinged energry under every gesture, every word, that draws you in, despite your better judgement.

You're about the only person that can calm him down from the edge of hysteria which is amazing considering he's about 50% there all the time.

Shen's life of luxury absolutely applies to you, you're going to be inundated with silks, fine jewellry, more money than you know what to do with, and special custom weapons. Anything you desire will be yours before you even ask for it.

If you actually wear anything he gets you though boy howdy bird boy is going to overheat and that tail is not going to go down anytime soon.

See Shen will do the whole 'I deserve loyalty, respect, adoration etcetc' part, but as soon as anybody actually gives him that respect it's going to completely catch him off guard. He's going to be positively giddy with it.

It will eventually swing into nervousness and suspicion but so long as you're able to weather the storm of his emotions he'll cycle right back round to somehow being shy and full of himself at the same time.

it's a skill I'll grant him that.

if anybody disrespects him they get sarcasm and cold aloofness. If anybody disrespects you they get instantly murdered. If somebody disprespects the fact you're togther whole cities will be wiped off the map and he'll go somewhere private to have a panic attack.

He's very high maintenance. But he's yours completly, once he's chosen you.

Beast x Reader:

I cannot even fathom the patience you must have to get this far, emotionally the Beast moves at speeds that make Glaciers need a speeding ticket. you must've been pspspsing for centuries at this point.

Knows all the most picturesque spots in the woods to lead you. It's a mark of devotion on your part that you can navigate his woods, it's a mark of his that he lets you navigate without interference.

Occasionally he will even help you to your destination but that choice is strictly between him and the trees, you're never going to get him to admit it to you.

Sidenote but Enoch adores you and will absolutely use you to gossip about his neighbour. Beast despises you going within 5 miles of the Pottsfield border becuase Enoch never forgets and he'll be teased for decades.

Through him you will come to know sectrets of the woods that even witches have not yet figured out. If you told anyone you would be heralded as mad, so you keep them close to your chest and close in mind as you travel.

Words are not always needed, despite his mastery of them. Plenty can be done in companionable silence.

Your morals really are going to be a bit more flexible the longer you spend time with him. Humans are a part of the food chain, like it or not, and in the Unknown our apex predator is the Beast. It's not personal, it just Is.

He would not expect you to get involved with his hunts though. He's perfected them, and you would be a distraction, for his prey and himself.

He will not give you the lantern. If he ever does, then the situation is dire, and he would make sure you knew the Truth of what it is. To hand over ones soul without the safety of lies is the most vulnerable he could ever be, and the thought petrifies him.

In the night though, when he is close but not singing, you swear you can feel the lantern song hummed from the trunks of the trees themselves.

#thalassa speaks #x reader #wooo this was fun #ty and I'm so sorry for the wait! #the beast #NOS-4-A2 #lord shen #I'd be really down to write more of these actually it's balm for the soul