#second one makes my heart flutter 🥺💖 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bun-haired-nutjob · 7 months

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Bocchi is Trans and Gay (canon as far as i'm concerned)

Welcome to my blog, which is now obviously becoming much more clearly Bocchi-themed than I had originally intended it to be, as Bocchi the Rock continues to influence my personality and my interests to an insane degree

(I never got a chance to be obsessed over a fandom when I was going through my first puberty so now that I've got a second chance you're ALL gonna hear about it!!!)

I write Bocchi the Rock! fanfics for AO3, and you can check them out here!

I am also madly in love with my girlfriend @lambdaupsilon who got me into writing these fics in the first place :3

I post and reblog a LOT of stuff from Bocchi the Rock, but also a lot of horny stuff!!! For that reason, this blog is 18+ and minors are forbidden from following or interacting!!!

I'm using this blog less for horny stuff but I won't be stopping entirely! For more info on what I'm into, check under the "read more" link :3

I hope you enjoy your stay at my blog!!! Reblogs are always appreciated, especially if you leave notes in the tags - I love reading them!!! <3

I tag everything I post and reblog with the following set of tags!

#vivi's asks - Responses to any asks I receive! (They may also appear under #vivi's social skills if they're particularly old posts)

#vivi's barking - Petplay dog girl stuff O_O

#vivi the bocchi the rock - bocchi brainrot, very much the primary content on this blog now :3

#vivi's elise - Posts about my girlfriend @lambdaupsilon!!! In particular how hot she is and the things she's able to make me feel, but also cute dumb stuff she does that makes my heart flutter 💖💖💖

#vivi's foreheadpathy - Hoshikuzu Telepath brainrot. Umika is autistic and Yu has autism and ADHD and they are so fucking gay for each other

#vivi's goals - Things that I want to look like - this used to be typically not horny but that line is a little less ambiguous nowadays O_O

#vivi's humour - Funny things, not always consistent with the theme of the blog - just things I find funny! (As if this blog has a 'theme' anyway ;3)

#vivi's inflation - Inflation-related stuff O_O (Specifically, I'm into breast, ass, and stomach inflation but not really full inflation - stuff like arms puffing up or being one giant ball etc.)

#vivi's mutual bait - Anything that I just know some of my mutuals will eat up! ;3

#vivi's neediness - The go-to tag for horny content on this blog, always horny in nature and often things I want to do or have done to me!

#vivi's ordinary life - Nichijou brainrot. Yuuko has ADHD and Nano is a trans allegory :3

#vivi's piloting skills - Things to do with my desire to be a cute and cool WWII fighter pilot :3

#vivi's robotics - Anything related to robotgirls because I seem to be posting a lot of robotgirl stuff O_O

#vivi's seedtank - Cumflation specifically.

#vivi's social skills - Mostly anything that doesn't fit any of the above categories, often includes reblogging and interacting with mutuals <3

#vivi's writing - Occasionally I do writing!!! You can find my AO3 account in the link above :3

#vivi's vents - My ramblings whenever something upsets me and I just need to get it out. Not common, but if that bothers you don't be afraid to block this tag!

#vivi's yuri - Lesbians and sapphic relationships without necessarily being horny! Also used for yearning 🥺

Things I Want to Be:

Bunnygirl

Catgirl (mrrp nya :3)

Doggirl (SOOOOOOO NORMAL AND SUCH A GOOD GIRL)

Cowgirl (the Wild West kind)

Cowgirl (the milky big-breasted kind)

Robotgirl

Slimegirl

...the property of a hot woman O_O

Kinks/Things I'm Into:

Bondage

Breeding

Bullying (in a sexy way)

Consensual non-consent (CNC)

Cumflation

Deflation (only in the context of 'undoing' inflation)

Degradation

Expansion

Free use

Humiliation

Inflation (SO SO SO NORMAL ABOUT INFLATION I PROMISE)

Lactation

Objectification (ALSO SO SO SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS)

Oviposition

Petplay

Praise

Size difference (either being larger or smaller)

Stuffing

Teasing (both receiving and giving ;3)

Tentacles

...and I'm open to trying most things at least once!

Not Into:

Feederism (but it's not a DNI - just not my thing, although there is some overlap with stuffing)

Weight gain/slob (I prefer stuffing that focuses on a taut round belly)

DNI:

Cishet men (this is a queer space!!!)

Detrans as a kink or 'anti-trans' movement (if you're detrans but respectful of those who are trans then you're still welcome!!)

Raceplay

Sissification (I enjoy being a woman, and my humiliation kink doesn't relate to whether or not I'm a woman thank you very much)

...and more I've yet to think of

#vivi's pinned post :3 #vivi's asks #vivi's barking #vivi the bocchi the rock #vivi's goals #vivi's humour #vivi's inflation #vivi's mutual bait #vivi's neediness #vivi's piloting skills #vivi's robotics #vivi's seedtank #vivi's social skills #vivi's writing #vivi's vents #vivi's yuri #vivi's elise #vivi's foreheadpathy #vivi's ordinary life

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lizzylovebooks280501 · 8 months

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Ikemen Vampire - Charles Henri-Sanson Chapter 4 | My best Moments | Part 1:

As if he had heard my thoughts 💭💖

No joke, my heart was pounding when he came to me and stood there in front of me 🥺 it was just ingame but yeah... I felt it outgame too 😵‍💫💖

Yeah Charles? You make my heart flutter like a Swarm of butterflies. A massive one 😅🥹❤️

Can i just hug him? He's so adorable 😭 i just wanna cuddle him😍

Date? VIP Tour ? With Charles? I'm in! But the second one, no! It's too early for that😜

Awwww, He takes some strawberry dessert with him, for Vlad, when he's there🥺

#ikemenvampire #charles henri sanson #ikevamp #ikemen series

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mango-bango-bby · 3 years

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3k Is awesome, congrats ( you should have more though) anyways I would like to request something for your au event

🌼/tattoo au with keigo.

Keigo is the tattoo artist and reader is a regular and over time he has fallen for his regular, so everyone he tattoo his name on their skin, very discrete and hidden in the design. Each time a little less discrete.

Eventually he kidnaps us and keeps calling us "his" and we argue we aren't his,that he can't own a person, but he argue that he does own us because " his name is on it" and then points out all the times he has permanently written his name on out skin, proving that we are his.

Please and thank you

♡ Inked ♡

(A/N: Thank you, darling 🥺🥺 I honestly didn’t expect to have more than a hundred followers lol!!! But I’m glad so many of you like my fics 💖 Also while writing this I can’t stop thinking about Keigo covered in tattoos and it’s making my heart go 💞💞💞💞💞💞)

Content Warning ⚠️: Yandere, tattoos, mentions of needles, Keigo tattoos something on reader without them knowing, tatted up a Keigo is beautiful

Summary: Hawks + Tattoo Artist AU (Yan!Keigo x GN!reader)

3k Prompt List ➸ ♡

Masterlist ➸ ♡

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Keigo enjoyed his job as a tattoo artists well enough, but he knew his favorite part of the job was you. You came in every few months for a new tattoo, different places on your body every time. You were absolutely his favorite part of having this job, he looked forward to you calling for a new mark on your skin.

Your skin was so perfect, the ink covering it making it more beautiful to him. You started coming practically a year ago, Keigo being the person who always tattooed you. Keigo would gently run his hand over the spot before tattooing definitely touching you in ways he shouldn’t as a professional but he just couldn’t help it. It started a couple months ago, Keigo snuck his initials into one of your upper arm tattoos.

Keigo waiting for you to notice, but you never did. In fact you loved the tattoo he had done for you. You came back not a month later for a new one, this time he was able to put his actual name hidden in the design. You didn’t notice once again. Keigo snuck his name into everyone of your tattoos from then on, doing almost five tattoos in total that had his name in it, his name getting bigger and more noticeable over time. Yet you never noticed. Always his oblivious duckling, weren’t you?

The loud noise of the blonde haired mans tattoo gun echoed through his apartment. Every once and a while, Keigo would look up making sure you were still alright. You were, you lay in his bed tucked in however your arms are tied above your head. He’s glad he was able to knock you out before taking you home, he would have hated if you had outbursts a fight and gotten hurt.

The tattoo gun continues going, Keigo’s steady hand tattooing himself this. The design was an exact match of your latest one, although the place where his name was in the design was replaced with yours. What better for you two now that you were going to be together forever than matching tattoos? He placed the tattoo above his right knee, one of the only places that wasn’t covered in other tattoos. But he hopes to have more ink on his body that’s dedicated to you, perhaps another rib tattoo or even one above his eyebrow would be good!

Keigo finishes the tattoo on himself, smiling and looking down at the design. He loves that you two match now. He thinks it’s sweet. Keigo cleans up the tattoo quickly, however before he finishes he can hear you let out a sleepy groan. Seems like you’re waking up finally, it’s been a few hours since he took you.

“Morning, baby bird” Keigo coos, watching your eyes flutter open before finishing cleaning his new mark. He watches your eyes turn from tiredness, to confusion, to fear in the matter of half a second. He can almost hear the millions of thoughts running through your pretty little head. Keigo simply waits for your screaming however it never comes, you instead trying to keep all of your fear inside. Or is it that you’re simply to scared to scream? The latter seems to be true as your breath speeds up and your eyes scream of terror yet nothing come out of your mouth.

“W-Where am I?” You say, your voice raspy from being asleep so long. You tug on the ropes around your wrists, they don’t budge at all. The rope scraping your skin a little bit, but you keep tugging, not even sure what you would do if you got out of these. You let out little whimpers, the ropes hurt if you pull to much but you don’t stop trying to escape. “Dovey, don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself” Keigo says, resting his hand of your tied up wrists to get you to stop. Which you do, your body freezing up once he touches you. You’d never done that before, but he guesses this is different from when he would tattoo you.

“Don’t worry, I just took you home. Where you belong, because you’re mine” Keigo says calmly, a large smile on his face. Him leaning forward to kiss your forehead, hearing you whimper and cry at the action. He’s so happy that he finally has you with him, even if you were already his in his mind. His eyes are wild, they look calm however, yet crazed at the same time. “No!” You scream, although it’s a quiet scream as you’re still in shock. Keigo can understand though, you aren’t used to the situation, so he doesn’t let your words affect him. You just don’t understand yet!

“I-I’m not yo-yours!” You sob, hiccuping and struggling harder against the ropes. You kick your legs this time, Keigo jumping back in order to mot get hit by your legs. Although he finds your fear incredibly cute, he wishes you would calm down a bit. After all, you might hurt yourself from flailing around and crying so hard.

“Of course you are, duckling!” Keigo says, still smiling at you. You stop moving once he touches you, lifting up your shirt a bit to show one of your newer stomach tattoos that he did. “My names even on you, so you’re mine” He continues, clearly gesturing that the tattoo shows this. Much to your horror, when you look down it’s true. Now that you’re looking for it, you see it.

Shown in the inks design, is Keigo’s name. His name skillfully tattooed on your skin forever.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Thank you for reading, darling!!

#3k follower event #yandere bnha #soft yandere #yandere!hawks #yandere hawks #yandere hawks x reader #yandere!keigo #yandere keigo #yandere keigo x reader #yandere takami keigo

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jordiebun · 2 years

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I was feeling sad so I decided to write a lovey-dovey scenario involving my comfort character Dr. habit!! 🥺I wanted to share it here with you all for those who love him as well! I’m new to writing stuff like this, but I hope you enjoy! ☺️💖☀️

Dr. Boris Habit (Smile for Me) x gender neutral reader

Word count: 668

Morning Love

Rays of light beamed through the bedroom window, illuminating a cream-colored lily resting in its pot. It’s stem and leaves perked at the sun’s warmth, a comforting feeling for the flower; one that is also shared between you and your partner, Boris Habit, who is peacefully resting beneath you. The soft rise and fall of his chest, the slow yet melodic beat of his heart, the hair strands that fell in his face glowing rose gold due to the sunshine — he was beautiful. Every morning is a reminder of how grateful you are for his company; he was the support you needed, and you were his.

Boris had a troubling past, one that concerned you with each diary page the habiticians — and Clara — provided you. He was never properly loved, besides by his precious Lily (who ended up injured by his own Father), and the realization hits harder each second spent next to him. It’s truly a gift when a gentle glance or smile is rewarded to you; thus, you feel proud with your accomplishments towards helping him grow.

Snapping out of these sappy thoughts, you feel the ever-so lightly tightening of a pair of arms around your back. His long lashes flutter as his eyes slowly open, adjusting to consciousness once again. The corners of his lips pull into a small, but endearing smile as those loving eyes admire your presence. “Gud Morning, Flower” Boris delicately speaks, “Did u slep well :-) ?” You nod your head in response.

His smile widens a bit, teeth — and small tooth-gap — exposed slightly, “Wonder-full :-D ! Eye hav many activiteez planned for thee two of us 2day!” He was already so energetic and motivated so early, you couldn’t help but laugh at the cuteness of his excitement as he explained in detail the plans he has set for both of you. Most of it involved tending to the house plants, checking for any new sprouted buds on the flowers, and managing his own flower shop; but you would never refuse if it meant spending extra time with him. Plus, they’re activities that make Boris incredibly happy, and after everything he’s been through that’s all you want for him — to be truly content and safe in an environment full of acceptance and mutual love.

Overwhelmed by the pure heart-felt emotions towards the man, you interrupt his rambling by pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. Embarrassed by the sudden affection, Boris looks away sheepishly for a moment — even after all the months and years you two have spent together, physical affection never fails to fluster him. After regaining his composure, he timidly returns the kiss. “Kizzes from u… they make me feel impurtant,” He begins, the shyness urging him to avoid eye contact, “U make me feel luv’d… I am so grate-full for you.”

Those words, arranged with so much love and carefulness, touch your heart instantly. While he’s still learning how to properly express his emotions to others, he continues to make so much progress which you are infinitely proud of. Smiling, you gently grab his hand and turn it so his palm is facing you. Writing into his palm, you spell “I love you.” You can see how his eyes sparkle and his cheeks flush into a warmer pink as the words set directly into his heart.

“I luv you 2, Flower. <:-)” He replies, resting his large hands on your face. “Now, let’s git out of bed n check on thee plantz, Eye’m sure they’re feel-in lonly right now! :-)” The two of you emerge from the bed sheets to get dressed for the day. As you button up your shirt, your mind ponders: Is this the one you aspire to dedicate your life to? Are you willing to forever be by his side, until the candle of life finally finishes melting? The answer is already given the moment you turn to see his pastel-colored, floral patterned attire matched with his sincere smile.

“I can’t wait 2 spend thee whole day wit u. :-)”

#jordie writes 🐇#dr. boris habit #dr. boris habit x reader #smile for me x reader #smile for me #smile for me game #x reader #dr. habit x reader

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sarah-sandwich · 3 years

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“that wasnt supposed to happen” from the prompts?🥺✨💖

Thank you so much for sending this! I had a ton of fun writing it! I definitely indulged in some delightful tropiness lmao

Content warning: they get fresh in this one lads (but not that fresh--rated T)

Undercover? I thought you said under covers...

The ballroom is warmly lit, dark wood floor shining under designer shoes. High-class socialites mill around with crystalline glassware held in well-manicured hands as a tinkling piano melody wafts over the dull murmur of conversation occasionally broken by a neatly constructed and perfectly timed laugh. Somewhere close by, a fountain splashes pleasantly.

And Peter can’t take his eyes off of the appetizer spread.

“James, darling,” Harley says with a toothy smile, sweetness and charm wrapped around his drawl like cotton candy on a stick, “would you mind getting me a refill?”

Peter’s eyes snap away from the food and he falls back into character. Idiot.

“Of course, honey.” Peter takes the empty glass and in the same motion leans in, nose brushing his cheekbone as his warm soft lips press into the apple of his cheek and his body presses into his side.

Then he’s gone.

Harley tracks him as he crosses the room, heart fluttering and breath short.

“You two make a lovely couple.”

He tears his eyes away from Peter and faces Maria Leonetti, the hostess of tonight’s event, with a devil-may-care smile and confident but relaxed posture. He is Randall Johnson and he loves bumping elbows with the wanna-be one-percenters and trying to convince them to back his latest venture, but if it doesn’t pan out, oh well. So long as Daddy hasn’t cut off his stipend yet, he’s got nothing to lose.

What a freaking joke.

“Thank you, according to my mother we’re the talk of her book club but then again, she’s a horrible flatterer and an even worse gossip.”

Maria laughs, high and false and grating and he hates it here, he hates it here, he hates it here. For all of the glitter and shine, everyone here is fake, contrived, plastic. He hates it here.

Peter returns, so close the heat of him seeps through his suit jacket and warms him entirely. He holds out a champagne flute wordlessly, eyes dark on Maria as she turns to greet another lady in a fine gown that glistens delicately under the glow of the chandelier.

There’s mustard on the corner of his mouth. He ignores the offered glass and he swipes his thumb through it then holds out the yellow glob for Peter to see.

“Did you even taste it?” he asks. He was only gone a handful of seconds. How did he have time to hoark down an entire—

His mouth goes dry as Peter, still focused on Maria’s journey across the room, leans forward and parts his lips. Teeth scrap the pad of his thumb, followed by a sweep of tongue, and then he pulls back.

“Yeah, it’s good,” he murmurs, eyes narrowed on Maria.

A wheeze punches out of him but luckily it’s drowned out by a hearty chuckle.

“How long have the pair of you been together then?” the glimmer dress woman asks, hip cocked and long white hair spilling around bare shoulders. “Can’t be too long.” She continues, ticking off a list on fine-gloved fingers, “Still star-struck by each other, not bickering like a married couple, easily jealous.” Her eyes settle on Peter, a small smirk playing painted lips.

Wait, what?

Peter smiles but there are too many teeth for it to be genuine. “Can you blame me?”

Huh?

The woman turns to Harley and makes a show of looking him up and down, eyes lingering on his hands and his chest. “No, I suppose not,” she tells Peter. “You’re cute but it’s clear who the real catch is.”

Peter smiles again but the grinding of his teeth is nearly audible and there’s an aggressive slant to his shoulders that usually precedes Spider-Man throwing a punch. “Unfortunately, this catch isn’t going to market,” he grits out, “so you can just go and— and gossip about your latest spa day or whatever.”

The woman’s eyes light with interest and she cocks her head to the side as she regards Peter in earnest.

Uh-oh. Abort, abort!

“Excuse us,” he says, threading his fingers through Peter’s and squeezing his hand tightly in warning, “we need to umm— Bathroom.”

He hauls Peter out of the suddenly stuffy ballroom, abandoning the champagne glass on a random table as the woman’s eyes bore into his back until he shuts the door behind them. They’re in an empty hall, wide and polished—gold gilding on the crown moulding, decorative sconces adorning the walls, heavy drapes framing intermittent windows. He’s rarely felt so out of place.

He shakes off Peter’s damp hand and turns on him. “Dude, what the hell?”

“I know, right? What was that lady’s problem?”

“What’s your problem? She was playing with you. You almost compromised the whole mission because you got all butthurt over a fake relationship!”

Peter sputters. “Butthurt? I was playing the role!”

“What role? You didn’t bring up your hedge fund once.”

“Maybe that’s because I had to do double the work selling our relationship while you smiled and simpered at every pretty face that gave you the time of day!”

“Every pretty— I’m gay you idiot.”

“I know that but they don’t. Especially not after how you—,”

“Shut up, just shut up. We don’t have time for this. Did you bring it?”

“Of course I did. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

“You couldn’t handle the rodeo.”

“Oh ho! Big talk from the guy who doesn’t know how to use the subway.”

“Well excuse me for not growing up in rat pit city!”

“It’s been five years. Any dumbass could have figured it out by now. Well,” he smirks, “almost any dumbass.”

Harley steps up so they’re chest to chest and looks down his nose while Peter tips up his chin in defiance. “When this is over I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“Looking forward to it, darling,” Peter says, uncowed, eyes sparking with a challenge.

He’s never backed down from a challenge and he isn’t about to now, but the longer he stands breathing in the scent of hair gel and soaking in Peter’s body heat, the faster he forgets what they were arguing about in the first place. His lips seem pinker than normal—maybe because they’re not chapped for once—and his hair is neatly styled rather than a frizzy curly mess. He sort of hates it. He resists the urge to dig his hand past all of that gel and ruck it up until it looks right again. His suit… well, it’s got nothing on the Spider-Man suit, but he wears it well. He looks good. He looks really good.

“What?” Peter asks.

He snaps his gaze back up to his eyes where he finds the spark has dulled to a curious glimmer.

“What, what?”

“You were looking at me weird. Did I get mustard on my suit too? Tony’ll kill me if I did.”

His mind transports back to Peter sucking his thumb clean and he takes a large step back. “No, it’s nothing. Let’s get back to the mission.”

Their steps echo as Peter falls into step beside him. “Didn’t look like nothing,” he mutters.

He pretends not to hear.

They slip into the private sector of the estate easily enough (perks of having one sticky boy as a partner) and after only one wrong turn (sticky boy’s fault), they manage to sneak into the private office of some rich jerk-off who throws fancy parties for wealthy socialites while he meets with HYDRA operatives and makes plans to create orphans.

“Give me the goober,” he whispers once they’re secure in the room. “You keep a lookout.”

Peter gasps, pretending to swoon. “You’re using my terminology.”

“Shut up and give me the thing.”

He plugs the goober into the USB port while Peter hunches near the door, listening for anyone who might interrupt them. Tony said the goober would take less than a minute to do its thing and then all they have to do is sneak back into the party, make nice with the rich snobs so they don’t arouse suspicion, and then retire to their safe house for the night as they wait to be picked up by S.H.I.E.L.D. in the morning.

Easy as pie.

“Peter,” he says slowly, staring at the laptop screen, “why does this say installing? Shouldn’t it be downloading?”

“Huh? I’m sure it’s f—,”

Peter cuts off as the laptop chimes and opens the loading screen for his and Ned’s unofficial (and illegal) Splatty Spidey desktop game, hijacked from the ever-popular phone app that Peter never shuts up complaining over.

“Peter,” he says again.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“You dunce. Did you grab the wrong goober?!” he hisses. “Please tell me the right one is in your other pocket.”

“Umm.” Peter pats his pockets and his face goes more ashen with every second that ticks by.

He rips the USB out of the port, shoves it into Peter’s chest, and looms over him as he bites out, “If we get out of this alive, remind me to kill you.”

Clutching the goober to his chest, Peter says to his chin, “We’ll see if there’s enough left of me after Fury has his say.”

“No,” he says firmly. “I’m calling dibs. Your ass is mine.”

“What do we do?” Peter whispers, meeting his eyes. “Take the whole laptop? Abort mission? They need this intel now. Oh God. Oh fuck.”

“Hey, cut that out. Breathe. Let’s call Tony.”

Peter groans, tipping his head back. “Anything but that.”

“Okay, yeah we’ll go back in the other room and ask around if anyone has a spare goober for downloading and encrypting HYDRA intelligence from insanely secure—,”

“Okay! Whatever! Call Tony. Just shut up. I don’t need you to make me feel worse.”

He takes out his phone and says, “Kind of defeats the purpose of calling if I don’t talk to him.”

He hits dial while Peter growls and mimes strangling him.

“Hey Tony, we’ve got a problem.”

~*~

He holds his breath, clutching the lapels of Peter’s suit with a white-knuckled grip, keeping his face tucked against his neck like a toddler thinking that they can’t be seen simply because they can’t see.

A watched pot never boils. Surely there’s a similar saying for not looking at security guards with multiple guns holstered on their person.

Don’t look up. Don’t look up. Please don’t look up.

Drawers open and close, papers rustle, boots scuff hardwood until finally, finally, the door closes and footsteps rap down the hall. He lifts his head.

“Shh,” Peter says, barely more than a breath of air against his ear.

They’re nestled in the corner, Peter’s palms stuck to the ceiling, his feet splayed on the wall, and Harley balanced on his lap, back pressed against the ceiling, hanging onto Peter for dear life. Thank goodness this ostentatious prick loves high ceilings. Thank goodness Tony had the forethought to design dress shoes with thin enough soles for Peter to stick through.

Thank goodness he recently went to the bathroom or he would have shit himself when the doorknob started to turn and Peter slammed into him, hauling him up to the ceiling in a blink.

“Okay,” Peter says in undertone. “I think it’s safe.”

“How do we get down?” he whispers.

“Umm, hang on tight?”

“Fuckin’ worst plan,” he grumbles but nevertheless koala hugs his arms and legs tight around Peter. “I hate your guts.”

“Love you too, snookums.”

That’s all the warning he gets before Peter swings free from their corner, wrapping an arm around his back as soon as his hand is free, and drops. It’s a short plummet, all things considered, but it takes several months off his lifespan. They land with a thump and then freeze, Peter frowning in concentration as he listens and Harley stays very very still, not wanting to mess up his concentration and end up surprised again.

“Okay,” Peter says.

Harley releases a full breath for the first time in minutes and gets his feet on the floor. “What the shit, Parker. You were supposed to be lookout!”

“I got absorbed, jeez, sorry! You try reprogramming a USB drive with borrowed equipment, a killer time crunch, and a distracting cowboy breathing down your neck.” He puts his hands on either side of his head, expression tight with anxiety. “Ned is going to be so upset I had to erase the game. We spent hours on it. That was his baby.”

“Serves you right for grabbing the wrong thing for our super important S.H.I.E.L.D. mission.”

“Don’t rub it in.”

He sighs. “Did you get everything? Can we go?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“You think—,”

“I did, okay? The program had just finished running when I heard that mook coming down the hall.”

Harley pauses. “Hold on. You heard him coming before he got to the door? Thanks for the heads up. Unbelievable.”

“You’d have gotten all panicky! And I was sort of hoping he wouldn’t come in.”

“Un-be-lievable,” he repeats. “Let’s go. I want out of here.”

“We’ve still got to do more socializing. Hill said for at least an hour but two would better.”

He groans. He fucking hates it here.

“Come on. Stick close.”

They creep into the hallway, easing the door closed behind them, and then set off at a quick but silent clip down the long empty hall.

They’re nearly back to the public sector when Peter suddenly goes stiff, then grabs him by the sleeve and tugs him through a random door. He crashes into his back in the unlit room and kicks over a bucket as the door shuts behind him.

Too loud, too loud, too loud!

Peter curses and whispers, “They’re coming. Follow my lead and remember you’re in love with me.”

“I’m— Wha—,”

Peter grabs his tie and yanks. Their lips crush together but he’s not ready and their teeth clack painfully before he gets with the program and puckers up.

They’re going to be interrupted any second by people who could very well kill them for being where they’re not supposed to be. They were so close to getting away, to getting back to the party and—

Peter grabs him, hands on either side of his face, and glares into his eyes as he demands, “Focus on me.”

Well, okay.

In the low light of the closet, he can’t see details but he’s been watching him all night. The first thing he does is rake his fingers through that stupid perfect hair. He allows himself a moment to glory in being the one to mess it up, then shoves Peter back against a shelving unit, capturing those pink lips with his own. Peter gasps and all of his blood rushes south at the sound. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and runs his tongue over it while Peter’s hands fumble at his sides tugging his dress shirt free from his slacks with a single yank.

He pulls back, winded. “What’re you—,”

Peter surges forward, sealing their lips together as his hands dive under the fabric, hot and firm on his bare skin.

He can’t breathe. He can’t think. All he knows is Peter Peter Peter. Peter between his palms, under his lips, breathed deep into his lungs and around his heart where he belong—

The door rips open and they spring apart, blinking dumbly into the light that spills in around the two security guards.

Oh. Right.

“Oh umm we were— We were—,”

Goon #1 snorts, interrupting Peter’s wide-eyed stuttering. “I think it’s obvious what you were doing. Get outta here. This area’s off-limits.”

“Which you should know,” Goon #2 says, “considering you had to cross the roped off corridor to get here.”

“We… We were—,”

“We don’t need to hear about how horny you are for each other,” Goon #2 says tiredly. “We’ve heard it all. Just go.”

Harley grabs Peter’s sleeve and hauls him out of the closet, nodding at the guards as they pass. He doesn’t let go and doesn’t slow as he pulls him down the hall towards the party.

“I’m straight,” Peter says over his shoulder just before they round the corner that will take them to safety.

He chokes on a laugh. It’s so not funny—it shouldn’t be—but after getting caught doing what they were doing and to hear raging bisexual Peter Benjamin Parker claim to be anything other than what he is after years of listening to him gush over Keira Knightly and Harrison Ford in equal measure— Well, it’s kinda funny.

Shaking with silent laughter, they round the corner and he releases Peter only to punch his shoulder.

“You asshole.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” he whispers. “C’mon, keep moving. I think we can safely leave. Neither of us is in any state to go back to the party.”

He’s got a point. Swollen lips, beard burn from his stubble on Peter’s chin, hair sticking up all over, suit wrinkled—he looks incredible and no one else deserves to see him like this. His stomach swoops at the thought that he did all of that. And Peter let him. He insisted.

“You’re looking at me weird again,” Peter mutters without looking as he ducks under the out of bounds rope.

“Can’t help it that you’re weird to look at.”

~*~

Peter yanks off his tie and collapses face-first onto the bed. He says something but it’s so muffled he can’t make it out.

“What?” he asks, pulling off his own tie and tossing it in the general vicinity of his overnight bag. He starts unbuttoning his shirt.

Peter rolls onto his back and repeats, “I can’t believe we pulled that off.”

“It would have been a lot easier with the right equipment.”

Peter groans and frowns up at him balefully. “I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I.”

“Never.” He shrugs out of his button-up and it and his gross fear-soaked undershirt meet the same fate as his tie. “Where’s my t-shirt from earlier.”

“Is it the one in the bathroom?”

“Maybe.” He ducks into the bathroom and holds up the gray t-shirt. ‘Midtown Tech’ is printed on it in red letters. Definitely not his. He pulls it on anyway. It’s a bit snug but he wants out of his monkey suit.

“At least I didn’t almost get us caught by being a bad kisser,” Peter calls out.

Excuse?

He steps back into the main room to Peter perched on the edge of the bed reaching behind him and pulling his shirt off over his head. His mouth goes dry at all of that skin and unbidden, he thinks of how it felt to be pressed against him.

“I’m not a bad kisser.”

Peter shoots him an incredulous look. “You practically bit me and then stood there like a statue.”

“You surprised me! How was I supposed to know you were going to throw yourself at me like that?”

“Throw myself at you? I was saving our lives! I didn’t see you coming up with any brilliant ideas.”

“Which we only had to do because you—,”

Peter throws his head back and groans as he stands and violently chucks his shirt into the corner. “Shut up about the goober already!”

“Make me.”

He almost regrets the challenge but then Peter cocks his head at him and something in his gaze sparks. He feels dangerous in that moment, skin singing with the thrill of it.

“Make you?” Peter asks, eyes darkening as he seems to notice his shirt for the first time.

“Bet you can’t,” Harley says.

“Bet.”

He holds his gaze, feet rooted to the floor, pulse racing, and chest tight. What the hell is he thinking?

“You’re looking at me weird again.”

“You’re still weird looking.”

“Was I a good kisser?” Peter asks, not looking away.

“Uh, I mean… You were fine.” Even he can hear the lie. He expects Peter to laugh or resume mocking him. He doesn’t.

“Harley, come here,” he says.

“What? Why?”

“Because I’m closer to the bed and if I go to you we’ll just make out against the wall again.”

Oh. Oh shit.

He swallows thickly and uproots his feet. “You were lying about me being a bad kisser.”

“I was,” Peter says, dark eyes heavy on him. He puts his hand on his hip and for what feels like the millionth time tonight they’re breathing each other’s air, standing in each other’s body heat. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that all you have to say? Does this mean I win?”

God, he doesn’t care about some dumb bet. He just wants to kiss him again.

“Yeah, Pete. You win. Are you going to kiss me or what?”

“You want me to?”

“I think that’s obvious.”

“Okay, but why?”

“Why?” he parrots. “Why do you think?”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Is this a kink? Some kind of power play—,”

“Harley, please,” Peter says, as serious as he’s ever seen him, an anxious line between his eyebrows. “I’m just trying to make sure I’m not about to get my heart broken here.”

“You…” He stares as his brain misfires and his synapses short circuit. “You… me?”

Peter laughs nervously. “You’re killing me. Just… What is— For you, how— How do you—,”

He moves in, cupping Peter’s face in both hands and smooths his thumbs over his cheekbones. Peter sucks in a sharp breath and his hands curl loosely around his wrists.

“Pete, sweetheart, I’ve been gone on you for years.”

“Oh,” Peter says quietly.

“When did you figure it out?” he asks.

“Figure what out?”

“Don’t play dumb. It’s not cute.”

A tiny smile twitches Peter’s lips but it vanishes as he licks his lips and says, “It was… It was in the closet. I told you to act like you were in love with me and you looked at me like you already were.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He smiles again, small and almost shy. “So are you going to kiss me or what?”

He does.

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