#and she’s just as hot and attractive as the rest but she’s not thin so

[sytoran]

⋆⭒˚｡★ ❝MILE HIGH CLUB❞ ★ n.romanoff !

pairing ★ sub!natasha romanoff x fem!avenger!reader

synopsis ★ on a plane ride to dubai for a romantic getaway, natasha takes matters into her own hands, and your cock into her own mouth. (oops?)

warnings ★ explicit content (minors dni), pwp, semi-public sex, jealous natasha is scarily hot, you are not the lord's strongest soldier, you have a cock, you almost get caught (kind of)

word count ★ 2.6k (IM BACKKK!!!! ...for now)

With Thor, Valkyrie and Carol back on Earth for about two weeks or so, you and Natasha were relieved of your Avenger duties. And what better way to spend the restful break than going on a romantic getaway to Dubai with the love of your life?

On the eighth of the eleven-hour flight, you were perfectly content to lounge in the luxuries of first-class, courtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D. But it seems that for the Avenger who was constantly on her feet, Natasha didn't deal well with ennui.

“I’m bored, Y/N.”

Unbeknownst to your girlfriend’s hidden agenda, you paid little mind to Natasha’s statement, continuing to watch the subpar rom-com playing on the aeroplane screen in blissful ignorance.

“Sorry, baby, I know it’s a long flight. You wanna watch this movie with me?”

Natasha lets out an aggravated huff. Because of course you didn’t know the effect you had on her. As much as the whole Avenger getup was as bold as it was impressive, this laid-back version of you really showcased the underlying details that marked her attraction to you.

Thin-rimmed reading glasses sat atop your nose, stray hairs framing the delicacy of your sharp cheekbones and marble-cutting jawline. With a tight-fitting black turtleneck that strained under the bulkiness of your sinful biceps, cut from the finest vibranium, and loosely-hung grey sweatpants that finished off the whole look — Natasha was just about ready to start sucking you off.

That passing thought had just been one of amusement, rhetorical and hyperbolic, seemingly impossible but altogether funny. But then Natasha takes a few steps back, figuratively, and considers it again — and a smile likened to a scheming devil crawls upon her face.

Well, Widows always got what they wanted, didn’t they?

“Y/N,” Natasha purrs, intently pressing into your side.

“Mhm?” you hum, reaching out a hand to entwine it with hers. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You still bored?”

Your reaction was simply so innocent and angelic that Natasha almost felt bad for the devil-spawned arbitrary ploy she was about to enact.

Suddenly surging forward, Natasha lifts up the armrest that separates your seats, closing the distance between her and a trip down to hell, and lets a hand cup the mouth-watering bulge in your grey sweatpants.

“I said I’m bored, Daddy,” she whispers into your ear. “Mommy wants to play.”

The loud half-splutter, half-cough that resounds around the enclosed space around the two of you within the aeroplane is immaculate.

You choke on inhaled air, looking around at the other passengers with disbelief and anxiety, as if you had been scandalised.

And maybe you had been. Shifting in your seat uncomfortably, you desperately try to look away from the tantalising cleavage shoved in front of your sinning eyes.

Natasha’s low-cut top had you fighting every calvary in your mental war, and you struggle to regain a semblance of composure.

“But, uhm, Daddy wants to remind Mommy that we’re surrounded by complete strangers,” You whisper urgently, a handsome flush overtaking your features. “And that we are very well-known Avengers across the globe, so if we were to get caught we would end up on every news headline for the next month. And if it reaches Fury, well, we’d be in shit ton of trouble.”

Your state of arousal is unhelpfully heightened further when you notice that Natasha is eyeing your growing erection like a hawk, front teeth sinking into her ruby-red lip, ready to take strike and devour its prey.

“Oh darling, you know I’m a whore for attention,” Natasha replies loftily, and the silky-smooth way that the word ‘whore’ rolls off her tongue triggers a jolt of arousal straight to the tent in your sweatpants.

When Natasha begins caressing the hefty bulge in between your legs, a low groan emits from the depths of your throat and it melts in Natasha’s lower belly in the form of molten arousal.

“Natasha, as much as I want to rail you senseless in this very second—”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t think that this is a good idea—”

“Stop thinking, then,” Natasha responds as if it’s the most simple answer in all of the galaxy, and before you can come up with another futile reason to deter her girlfriend’s libido, Natasha launches into action.

In a fraction of a second that could have rivalled Spiderman’s speed, Natasha unbuckles her seatbelt and sinks to her knees in front of your seat. Another upside of first-class was the spacious legroom which Natasha fully utilised. Ducking under your blanket, she drapes it over her hunched figure and tucks herself neatly between your legs.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, fumbling to unbuckle your own seatbelt and letting Natasha slide down your sweatpants. Social decency be damned, for when Natasha Romanoff presented herself to you, ripe for the taking, no one simply denied themself of that glorious heaven.

Deft fingers tug down black Calvin Klein boxers, and a huge, hardened cock springs out of its confinement. You exhale shakily as a hand wraps around the base, and a feather-light finger trails over its girthy length.

“I’m not surviving this, am I?” You mutter underneath your breath, leaning back into the seat. In response, Natasha gives kitten licks to the pre-cum emerging at your heady tip, so saintly and sinful all the same.

Guiding the head of your cock to a hot mouth, Natasha leisurely wraps her lips around the shaft. Your iron-hard grip on the armrest was almost completely useless in the face of regaining normalcy, not when the feeling of velvet lips set alight every nerve on her body.

“Fuck,” you curse breathlessly, your face contorting into one of pleasure. Darkened eyes fixate unto the blanket Natasha was hidden under, and your wandering mind fuels an image of your girlfriend’s hollowed cheeks and pliant mouth, to which you almost fall apart there and then.

Dirty, scandalous and filthy was being able to feel Natasha’s tongue swirl around your cock without seeing it happen. Your lack of sight heightened the sensitivity of your other senses by tenfold, and you had to physically restrain herself from bucking your hips forward.

Without warning, Natasha tilts her head up, ruffling the blankets, and then engulfs your cock in the threshold of her throat.

“Oh, Thanos' head on a fucking stick—”

“Excuse me ma’am, what can I get for you today?”

Your eyes fly open in a nanosecond, head jerking to the source of distraction. There in the aisle stood an air stewardess with a push-cart and a smile just a little too wide.

“Uh, uhm, just a water would be fine,” you choke out, attempting to exhale steadily as if you hadn’t been about to combust in your girlfriend's mouth just a few seconds ago.

“Right away, ma’am,” The stewardess answers. “You getting hot and bothered from the show?” She asks harmlessly, a smirk tugging up on her face.

You take a moment to understand the jest. Before you the shitty rom-com is still playing, except now there's a badly orchestrated sex scene playing, where the male actor is trying too hard to act as if he’s doing any good. It doesn’t do you any good that your face is flushed and evidently flustered, but for different yet similar reasons.

A false laugh escapes your lips, in hopes of driving the woman away. “What! No, no way. I’m all good here.”

You swear you can smell the jealousy radiating off from Natasha in leaps and bounds, and you decide it is best to end the conversation before Natasha fuses and convulses simultaneously.

God forbid Natasha decides to start deepthroating your cock at that exact moment.

You let out a ragged groan in front of the stewardess, as a hot mouth engulfs your cock in quick succession, sucking back and forth with an esteemed fervour.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” The lady asks, leaning closer, reaching out a hand to pat the side of your face.

You lean back, rapidly attempting to steady your breathing, and failing miserably. Natasha’s bobbing her head up and down with energised vigour, determined in her mission.

“Y-yeah, it’s really alright. Th-thanks, again.”

Just as you thought all was done and dusted, the air stewardess looks around cautiously. She leans closer to you with batted eyelashes and a supposedly seductive wink.

Then, in a low and sultry voice that seals your fate, the woman says, “Let me know if you need anything special, handsome.” You choke back a moan as Natasha twists her head, her talented tongue doing wonders to her cock.

The lady can’t get out of your sight any slower.

The moment the air stewardess disappears into the confines of the next cabin, footsteps fading away, Natasha's head whips out of the blanket, furrowed brows and an aggravated expression taking you by storm.

“‘Let me know if you need anything special, handsome!?’ Who does that whore think she is? Baby, do note that it’s taking me very large amounts of self-restraint not to get up right now and slap her silly. I can’t believe that an air stewardess would hit on anyone so openly like that, much less you! God, Y/N, I—”

Natasha’s stream of enjambments decrescendos into a meek silence at the look on your face.

Evanescent was the abrupt change in your demeanour, as if a switch had been flicked, as if the rest of the world had faded away, and it was just the two of them left.

Natasha’s cheeks flush so prettily, so quickly, because that look on your face only meant one thing.

A set jaw, glinting in the light — cut marble sculpted from the finest hands. Eyes that descend into such deep hues that Natasha feels like she’s drowning like the Titanic, downwards towards the depths of hell.

“Less talking, baby, more sucking.”

A rough hand finds Natasha’s head under the blanket and her hair is tugged on forcefully, jerking it forward to engulf the entirety of your cock. Natasha is more than happy to comply.

Natasha’s pretty gag is lost in the sound of the ongoing turbulence, and you grunt and drag those velvet walls down the length of your cock again. If Natasha decided to act like a brat, you could sure as hell treat her like one.

Up and down, up and down, and the way you manhandle Natasha to deepthroat a solid eight inches should be considered an Avengers-level threat. If you close your eyes, you can almost see the tears welling up in Natasha’s eyes, her pretty lips wrapped around your cock, strands of hair clinging to beads of sweat that adorn her face.

You're not too sure if the wet and squelching noises you hear are from Natasha's slick throat or a figment of your ever-rampant imagination. Either way, the contracting waves of Natasha’s throat around your cock is downright sinful, pretty and easy and oh so pliant.

From base to tip and tip to base, a preordained promise of paradise hangs in the atmosphere, and with each passing stroke, you barrel towards that high. You thrust hard into Natasha's throat, stretching it out, filling it up.

You lose yourself in the wet heat of Natasha’s mouth, your cock being stimulated in such heavenly eloquence of Natasha’s tongue. As an Avenger, you've fought a thousand battles, but none of them have ever quite left you as breathless as this one.

You're awfully close.

In the haze of being used like a mindless fucktoy, Natasha’s hand slips up the expanse of your clenched thigh muscle, and proceeds to toy with the heavy sack of balls. You groan, gripping Natasha’s hair tighter, tugging her downwards.

You're really, really close.

Your ears prick up as a sound emits from under the blanket, and your keen hearing picks up a whiny moan that sounds an awful lot like “Daddy, please”.

Oh, fuck.

Natasha’s helpless plea is what causes you to tumble over the edge of precipice, waves crashing and planets colliding as your vision becomes pure, unadulterated, white heat. “Fuck,” you grunt, a dragged-out groan from your chest, a ringing emblem of castle walls that crumble down.

Streaks and streaks of milky, white fluid are released into the depths of Natasha’s throat, coating her velvet walls, thick and creamy as it splatters against pink walls. Contented moans resound from Natasha, as she continues to suck on your extensive cock like it’s her last lifeline, like she might as well perish without it.

For a brief moment, you question your existence in the universe, and how remarkably infinitesimal you feel, hanging kilometres above the wide open sea and nothing else.

Be it land or sea or stars, though, you think you've found your muse, your reason for staying.

“Natasha,” you breathe out, like a sacred prayer, like a haunted blessing, as pleasure overrides your system.

You don’t recall quite how long you stay in that exact position, a hand cupping the back of Natasha’s head, rocking gently thorugh the aftershocks, Natasha’s palm resting on the side of your thigh.

Sentience gradually floats back into your capability, and you slowly blink as you arise from your out-of-body experience. “Well, shit,” you mumble, the aeroplane filtering into view, the snores from sleeping passengers around you becoming audible again.

Once the coast was deemed clear, you lift up the blanket covering your lap, but it turns out to be a dreadful decision as the sight of Natasha almost causes you to roll back into another orgasm.

Natasha’s previously neat hair was now a complete mess, sticking to her mouth and the sides of her face in the heat of sweat and slick. What used to be perfect, unblemished eyeshadow was now a runny mess due to Natasha’s tears, and a nude shade of bottle-red lipstick was smeared across her mouth and your semi-erect cock.

Lowered lashes shielded a smokey gaze, nearly all black, and you can feel herself hardening again, like you hadn’t just received a filthy blowjob that would make the heavens blush.

Immediately, that image of Natasha Romanoff was imprinted into her mind for an eternity to come, saved for future purposes.

By some saintly miracle, none of the passengers surrounding had awoken, and Natasha successfully crawls back into her seat with an all-too-smug smile.

“How was it?” She asks innocently, batting those lashes with a seductive head-tilt.

“I don’t know, maybe you should’ve moaned ‘Please, Daddy,’ just a little louder,” you retort quickly, no bite behind your words, delighting in the pink flush that adorns your girlfriend’s cheeks.

On about the ninth hour of the flight, approximately one hour after Natasha drew out an earth-shattering orgasm from your megalithic shaft, you effectively draws closer to Natasha, with crossed arms that unhelpfully accentuate the bulge of your biceps.

“Let me rail you in the toilet?”

“Y/N L/N, I am not sitting my bare ass on that filthy bathroom counter. I don't wish to end up with an STI."

“Who says I need to a counter to fuck you, hm?”

──── ☆ ⋅ ★ ⋅ ☆ ────

After three splendid orgasms, more abundant wails of ‘Daddy, please’ emitting from the toilet, and that same, very embarrassed flight stewardess politely requesting for them to get the fuck out, you and Natasha land in Dubai, officially kickstarting your romantic getaway with a bang.

Literally, quite a bang.

haven't written something new in forever, hopefully this is enough to satiate you gremlins' desires... (but forreal tho, thanks for sticking around) reblog or i'll hunt you down and NOT post for 12493482 years

main m.list

[jensettermandu]

shameless - jennie kim

genre; smut

pairing; groupie!jennie x rockstar!female reader

content; exhibitionism (there are people in the room), fingering (jennie receiving), reader is a rockstar (?) & jennie lowkey a groupie, it's set in the mid 2000s but it's not really relevant? very much dirtbag coded

wc; 1.5k

masterlist.

a/n; please keep in mind that this is from a story that i scrapped. thought i could still use the smut from it to post.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Y/n questioned, turning around and running a hand through her hair, damp at the roots with her chest still heaving. 

She couldn’t exactly figure out why she dragged the girl with her since she would probably make it out of the crowd just fine…or maybe not. There was just that need because it wouldn’t have felt right if she hadn’t pulled her with her backstage. 

“It was hot.” Jennie let out a humid whisper, her voice faltering as she grabbed the tie again. Y/n grabbed her waist as they leaned in, their noses barely touching. Maybe it was wrong, probably extremely wrong, but seeing the vixen use such violence during a performance made Jennie throb with need. There was just something attractive about the lithe girl who was so unpredictable. 

“You think?” She hummed in confirmation and slumped back onto the couch Y/n guided her to, straddling Jennie in the process. There were those like their manager and then there were those like them, the shameless ones. Jennie was on the right side as she yanked the girl forward.

“Hot enough to make you wet?” The lead singer questioned right before they attached their lips. Y/n’s one hand came right up to the long-sleeved cropped shirt that hugged the brunette's body as she snaked it under. Jennie moaned at the cold hand that groped at her breast, fingers tugging at the hard nipple, making her pull on the tie in pleasure. 

“So wet.” She breathed out at the split second they pulled away before getting Y/n’s tongue pushed right back into her mouth, making her suck on it. It was enough to make her whimper and grip the warm breast under her cold palm, groping it needily and squeezing the hard bud in a way that made Jennie’s hips buck because her clit was throbbing. The slender fingers ran over the belts on Jennie’s skirt, not stopping as she continued to play with the hard nipple that was making Jennie breathless. Fingers brushed over the cold belts, coming down between them, going further down.

Jennie’s other hand went to the girl's back who was in her lap, running right down and under the skirt as she gripped her ass cheek. The cold fingers brushed along her inner thigh which quivered faintly in need until they pressed right against her covered pussy. She released a moan that made her pull away from Y/n’s mouth, fingers pressing against the soaked-through material of Jennie’s underwear. 

“Now that’s hot,” Y/n said with a grin as she gently ran her fingers along the wet material, brushing and teasing the girl who was holding back the whimpers. Jennie let go of the tie, pulling Y/n closer with the hand on her ass as she glanced down at the hand between her thighs that was under the skirt. Her eyes caught what was hers–the leather garter with a pentacle–and she trailed her hand over Y/n’s thigh and over to the pentacle that was now inverted and a pentagram. 

“Are you a Satanist?” She asked as it was inverted—mimicking the girl who asked her if she was Wiccan, Y/n chuckled. Jennie’s tone was a bit more whiny because of the fingers that slowly caressed her through the thin silky material of her panties, the wetness had smeared on her inner thighs a while ago and the mess was getting bigger. 

“No, but I relate to and pity the angel banned from heaven.” Jennie let out a moan, Y/n caught her lips with hers as she pushed the panties aside and found the clit with her thumb—the two ignored the door that opened as the rest walked in while talking. 

She tightened her grip on the plump butt that fit perfectly in her hand, closing her eyes tightly as her ears couldn’t catch a word of what was said. Her light moans and whimpers were swallowed by Y/n who ran her two fingers down to the leaking and clenching hole. With ease, she slipped her two fingers inside Jennie, the warm and wet walls engulfing them with need.

Her fingers hooked around the garter, gripping it in her fist at the harsher pinch on her nipple before it got tugged on. The long fingers filled her as they caressed her g-spot, pressing on it, the thumb circling her swollen clit in steady motions that were making her legs tremble and tense up. Her stomach was filling up with the orgasm that was about to hit her.  

Her head was empty, not being able to think about the fact that she was about to have another orgasm that made her legs quiver in a room filled with Y/n’s bandmates. 

Their bodies burned, leaving her cheeks with tender pink as they both heaved, Y/n slowly getting off to the girl moaning into her mouth who was unconsciously jittering in her seat because of how her body was convulsing. Her walls throbbed more and tightened around the two fingers, the sounds being lewd yet muffled because of their clothes and bodies. Jennie was sopping wet and the mess was coating Y/n’s fingers. 

“Y/n, do you hear what I am telling you?” Stan asked louder this time and Y/n pulled away from the sloppy, warm and heavy kiss. She quickly leaned back in, licking up the spit that was about to drip down Jennie’s wet and plump lips. Her head turned at the manager as she frowned, still working her fingers—the rest being busy talking it up on the other couch while drinking. 

“Not now Stan, I am fingering a hot chic.” A high and light moan forced itself from the back of Jennie's throat as she couldn’t suppress it. Her eyebrows were furrowed, vision black and she couldn’t figure out if she was rolling her eyes back or if she had them closed. She leaned into Y/n, biting down on the frail shoulder through her shirt, her body curling up into her. Y/n turned back to look at Jennie, leaning down and taking the girl's earlobe between her lips, gently tugging on it.

Stan’s eyes widened, catching what was happening and realising that it was more than just the two making out. “You’re what—all of you guys are odious. I am going outside for a cigarette.” The guy sternly stated and walked out the door that he slammed closed, his words followed by laughter from the group on the other couch. 

Y/n could feel the wetness through the material of her shirt, Jennie panting right against her and biting down harder. She moved her hand away from her breast and ran it to her back to hold her. Her moan muffled as her body jerked into Y/n, reaching her orgasm with a series of muffled whimpers while Y/n slowly circled her clit, still moving her fingers inside her until Jennie’s teeth that were buried into her shoulder loosened. 

The girl heaved, catching her breath as fingers gently traced her warm back and Y/n leaned back, Jennie lifting her head. “I don’t see my jacket.” Y/n pointed out as she had hoped Jennie would come with it, slowly she pulled her fingers out and fixed the underwear by pulling them back. The hand came up to her mouth as she licked her fingers clean of the slickness on them, tasting just as good as the last time.

She chuckled and slumped back onto the couch, letting go of the garter on Y/n’s thigh that belonged to her. Her fingers traced the warm skin as she held her ass with her other hand. “I don’t see my CD’s.” Jennie pointed out right back. Her things were still missing. Y/n only grinned, leaning in and attaching her lips to the girl's hot neck which was like the sun against her lips. She could feel Jennie’s heart still pounding hard after her orgasm.

“It’s at my place though.” She breathed out, still catching her spirit after getting fingered quite unexpectedly as it seemed to add to how good it felt. 

“I see what you did there.” Y/n teased against her skin and Jennie moved her hand up, tangling her fingers in the dark hair and pulled Y/n back. 

“You do? I haven’t done anything.” Jennie mumbled, holding Y/n by her hair to stop the girl from doing more than she did. That lust still worked like a magnetic field between the two, pulling them to each other as they got each other worked up and needy. Eyes were dark and sex was running around their mind and to think that they were both sober. 

“You have given me another reason to return to your place.” Y/n’s voice was humid.

“What’s the first reason?” She asked.

“You and what’s between those nice thighs.” Not only did Y/n want to spend another night between the girl's legs, but the other reason was Jennie herself whom Y/n had become fascinated with. The sex itself and the girl. 

masterlist.

[bring-forth-his-sac]

Kneel

Summary: Negan reminds you what you’re supposed to do whenever you see him in the Sanctuary 

Pairing: Saviors Era Negan x f!reader

Tags: !NSFW!, power play, dominant Negan, swearing, intimidation, erection, pet names

Word Count: 1.8k (this was meant to be under 1k but I once again forgot how to stfu)

“My oh my, where are your manners?”.

Shit. You knew this would happen eventually. It feels as though Negan has had his eye on you for weeks now, just waiting to pop the question. Because obviously, six wives isn’t enough for one man and he’s in need of another.

You, more specifically. 

You’re in the middle of pushing crates piled on to a small trolley when he approaches. He smirks, baring his teeth as he casually swings Lucille by his side. As if the odds are stacked against you, the hallway is empty, leaving only you and Negan. Alone. 

“You’ve been here, what, two months now?” Negan acts as if that’s just a guess and he hasn’t been keeping track.

You stand tall beside the crates, making it abundantly clear that you won't be an easy target for him. Your eyes are steady, a defiant gleam in them as you hold his gaze.

No matter how charming or beneficial being with him would be, you refuse to be some damsel he can have for his own twisted amusement. After all, you’ve taken care of yourself for this long in the apocalypse, why rely on someone like him now?

“I have” you confirm, not wanting this conversation to draw out longer than it needs to. Even if you’re on his good side, it’s hard to feel relaxed with Negan’s attention on you.

He hums in response.

You watch as Negan's gaze shifts, his features becoming more stern as he stands there. It's as if a switch has been flipped, transforming him from the charismatic leader to the cold and dominant figure you know he can be.

“So you gonna do it?” he questions, the sharp edge to his words sending a clear message: he’s not asking, he’s telling.

You can feel your jaw clench. Is he expecting you to just throw yourself at him? Or thank him profusely for allowing you to stay here? 

Feigning innocence, you gesture towards the crates. "Do what? My job?" you retort, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you intimidated. You go to move the crates again when you feel it - the silent warning of Lucille’s sharp tips resting gently on your shoulder. 

Negan maintains a stoic expression, letting Lucille display his authority. His voice is low and gravelly, resembling a growl more than anything else. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, just cause I think you're pretty fuckin’ hot, and ask again" he explains.

Hearing Negan's flippant admission, the way his voice drips with lust as he mentions his attraction to you is enough to send a thrill down your spine. It's a complex feeling to know that a man like Negan is attracted to you. It's thrilling, dangerous, and undeniably exciting all at once.

You hold your breath, expecting Lucille to scratch her way across your face at any moment. But instead, Negan takes a breath and asks again “Whenever I decide to grace your fucking presence, what is it you’re going to do?”.

You feel as if you’re back in school, after getting asked a question by a teacher who knows you weren’t paying attention. You’re unsure what would be worse; to answer incorrectly or to not answer at all. 

Slowly, Negan starts to increase the pressure, Lucille’s spikes digging into your skin through the thin fabric of your shirt. She prickles at your skin, the feeling thankfully being more uncomfortable than outright painful.

Instinctively, your legs buckle and you sink to your knees before him. “You kneel.” Negan drawls as you go down “There you go. Not that hard, is it?”. 

Negan eases the pressure, the painful stabs from Lucille's barbed wire gradually lessening as you comply. You breathe a silent sigh of relief, hoping Lucille didn’t break your skin and leave puncture marks in her wake.

Despite your best efforts to maintain a defiant expression, you can feel a flutter of something in your stomach. It’s subtle, but undeniable. You stare up at him with a determined glare, refusing to acknowledge the confused mixture of disdain and arousal coursing through your body.

Negan lets out a low, guttural groan, his head tilting down to meet your gaze directly. His expression is equal parts hunger and satisfaction as he takes in the sight of you kneeling before him.

"Goddamn," he murmurs approvingly, "now this is a view I could get used to”. Negan's signature cocky smirk returns, the brief display of dominance seemingly fulfilled for now. 

It’s easy to feel somewhat distracted in your current position, your head level with his crotch. The temptation to look is strong but you’re aware of what his reaction might be and so you quickly push the thought aside. Fighting with your inner urges, you subconsciously nibble at your lip, accidentally fuelling Negan’s amusement.

He sees straight through you and you know it.

Moving the bat from your shoulder completely, he lightly taps it against the crates. “You come to me if you ever want a change of lifestyle,” he coaxes “I got some real sexy dresses upstairs that haven’t been claimed yet”.

The tension between you both is palpable. There’s no denying that you feel a throbbing sensation between your thighs, the logical side of your mind growing hazy and clouded by lust. Your response catches you off guard, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "I think I’d look better without them on," you hear yourself say, the words daring and suggestive.

Are you really flirting with the man who just forced you to kneel!? Damn him.

Negan immediately picks up what you’re putting down, “Oh is that so? Think I’d need to be the judge of that, sweet thing”. 

Bringing his free hand down to your face, Negan surprises you with his soft touch. You can feel his fingertips tracing along your cheekbone before gently cupping your face in his hand. 

The contrasting sides of this man are striking and downright annoying to put up with but you don’t fight against it. It’s hard to decide which side of Negan you actually prefer; the dominant leader that forced you on your knees to satisfy his ego or this charmingly soft man who calls you pretty pet names. 

Unable to resist the temptation, you steal a quick glance forwards. You only sneak a brief look but sure enough, there’s an obvious bulge right there, a mere inches away from your face.

A part of you wants to whimper at the sight but another part of you wants to scoff and get up, stopping this game of cat and mouse no matter the consequences of ‘disrespecting’ his authority.

“Well, damn" he practically groans as you look back up at him "I don't see why we should wait until you try on one of the dresses." His words are direct, the implication clear that he's craving you just as much as you're craving him.

But the ball is in your court now. Negan keeps his hand on your face, staying deliberately still, leaving the next move up to you. He's put his cards on the table, making sure his desires are known. It's up to you to respond, to show him that you want him just as badly.

A thought flickers through your head. How bad would it be if you did hookup with Negan? You know you’d have a good time but there would be consequences. Even though Negan seems casual, there’s no doubt he would push you to become another wife. Once he sinks his claws into you, he won’t simply let go after a hookup or two. Why would he when he can have an unlimited number of wives just for himself?

Before you can make that decision, movement in your peripheral vision catches your attention. You snap your head in their direction, watching as a figure hesitantly comes closer, uncertainty laced in each step.

Joey — or, Fat Joey, as he’s so graciously called by Negan — steps closer, nervously wringing his hands together.

Negan follows your gaze, letting his hand drop from your cheek as he huffs. “Fat Joey! Holy fuck, who knew you could sneak… or cockblock” he exclaims, putting on his bravado act.

Taking advantage of Negan's momentary distraction, you quickly stand up, using the opportunity to distance yourself and get back to work. The feeling of embarrassment washes over you as you realise what that must have looked like for Joey, who just stumbled across you both.

Negan shoots you a quick look. It's not an angry glare but rather a pout, as if he had expected you to patiently wait on your knees until he’s done talking to Joey. 

Joey speaks up, his voice a bit shaky as he tries to sound professional. "Boss, Simon wants to talk to you, he said it’s important" he says, attempting to mimic a soldier's stance "He tried contacting you on the walkie but didn't get an answer". 

Negan reluctantly gives Joey his attention, a hint of annoyance in his expression. You swiftly begin to move the crates, deciding to take Joey’s interruption as some kind of divine intervention that’s telling you not to give into Negan so easily.

“Simon already rounded up the other lieutenant’s, so they’re just waiting for you, sir” Joey rambles on as you pass by. 

Just as you're about to make your exit, you pause, unable to stop yourself from making a snide comment. You turn to Joey, purposely avoiding Negan's gaze. "Oh, Joey," you say with a hint of sarcasm, "don't forget to kneel. He likes that." 

Joey, completely oblivious to the sarcasm behind your words, takes your reminder as sincere advice. He immediately drops to his knees, a look of panic on his face as he hastily apologises. "S-sorry, sir!" he stammers "I didn't mean to forget!".

Negan takes a step back, his hand instinctively going to cover his bulge now that someone else is so close. ”Yeah, sure, just get the fuck up,” Negan grumbles.

As you walk away, you throw a playful goodbye over your shoulder. "Bye, sir," you say with a smirk, feeling a small sense of victory at having left Negan standing there with Joey, who’s still babbling on.

Negan stays silent, mulling over his thoughts. He can hear Joey drone on but he isn't interested. There's only one thing on Negan’s mind.

You’re definitely a keeper.

[crguang]

hollow victory

Your first mission as a Stellaron Hunter was executed perfectly. Kafka knows just the way to congratulate you.

younger reader (like 21-22) so there's an age gap, smut, afab!reader, dom!kafka, sub!reader, fingering, scissoring, no plot at all it's just filth, 3.7k words

A/N: got reminded of how sexy kafka was and had to make a comeback. :/ apology smutshot…?

Kafka pushes you onto the bed with a teasing hand on your chest, letting you fall against the fluffy pillows of her bed, a privilege you’re experiencing for the first time. She revels in the way your dilated pupils take her in as she straddles your hips and sits up above you, loosening the rest of her ponytail until long magenta locks fall down her back, caressing the skin of her shoulders with the same reverence your palms tentatively rest on her thighs. Her eyes are lidded and she looks down at you, carding her fingers through her hair a couple of times, an almost predatory smile tugging at her lips. You’re almost jealous of the way each strand curls around her slender digits. One of the thin straps of her dark dress falls from her shoulder, exposing more of her unblemished skin to your adoring eyes. Looming over you like this in the dim light, she’s more apparition than flesh, the object of your desires conjured up by your lustful mind like a saint coming to relieve you of past woes. But Kafka is no saint, and there is nothing Puritan about what you feel for her or how she gazes at you through those soft-coloured lenses. Temptation has never looked so enticing.

You swallow thickly, throat dry as a desert in front of such a captivating sight, and can’t help lowering your eyes to the curves of her torso and the plunging neckline of her dress. Your skin is hot, unrelated to the warm temperature outside these walls. There’s the hint of a flush down her collarbone, nestled between her breasts, and the lack of a bra allows you to witness her nipples hardening under your stare. They poke through the expensive fabric as if begging for a devoted touch, and the thought of Kafka getting aroused with only a look from you makes your head spin.

“Tongue-tied, huh? You had plenty to say half an hour ago.” Kafka’s smile sharpens, leaning down until her nose just touches yours, fingertips skimming your collarbone in idle circles. She keeps her eyes fixed on yours, almost searching, and her thighs tighten their grip on your hips. “You’re blushing…”

Her breath fans over your lips with every word spoken and her voice is low, smug yet also deeply pleased. Her irises drop to the bridge of your nose then lift to observe the smoothness of your brows and you regard the curl of her lashes the same way; you’ve never seen her so close, so available, and you drink in as many details of her as you can like they’ll fade away the next morning. 

You find it hard to build your reply, the scent of her fills your nose due to her proximity— sweet with an underlying bitterness; deceptive, like her— and you can taste tobacco on your tongue. Kafka seems unhurried, the pad of her fingers brushing up your neck in deliberately teasing touches. Your voice comes back to you after a moment. 

“This is new territory for me,” you manage to say, breath hitching when she meets your gaze once more. You swear hers darkens with your hesitant confession. Her fingers curl around your throat and simply rest there, feeling your pulse quicken beneath her skin. 

“Are you intimidated?”

Her rhetorical question has a delighted edge to it, excitement born from having the upper hand and leaving you scrambling to catch up. It’s embarrassing, you feel like a teenager biting more than you can chew, anxious and inexperienced. You’ve had sex before, been in a relationship before, but Kafka is older and can feign confidence for things she’s never even attempted. She’s imposingly attractive, effortlessly too. Trapped in her carefully crafted web, it’s clear that all you can do is follow her lead and hope you don’t trip over yourself in the process. 

“I’ve never been with… someone who has experience in these kinds of things,” the admission leaves your lips in a murmur against her mouth. 

“Then this will be interesting.” Kafka brings her thumb to rub at your lower lip, tracing its outline and pressing you to part your lips, her gaze still locked on yours. Her other hand comes up to cup your chin, holding you where you are, and her breath wafts toward your face in a soft, sultry sigh. “Are you scared?”

You shake your head. Scared is not the word you would use; you’re merely nervous. Kafka chuckles, her thumb swiping back and forth across your lower lip as she watches your lashes flutter.

“Good. I think you’ll find I’m more fun than you realize.”

She grins, suddenly sitting up and straddling your waist, firmly pressing your hips against the softness of the bed. She lets the thin straps of her black dress fall from her shoulders before slipping them off completely, the clothing pooling around her hips and leaving her bare to your gaze. Kafka notes the way your eyes widen a fraction and linger on her breasts, your flustered expression, and the way your tongue darts out to lick your lips. She lets you stare for a moment, enjoying how nice it feels to see you unravel like this, to know she’s tearing down your defences by simply revealing pieces of herself. Your attention washes over her like a hot shower and arousal simmers in the depths of her belly. 

“You can touch. I won’t bite… unless you ask.”

Your fingers dig in the softness of her thighs and her smile turns almost wicked. Your hesitation is endearing, your timidity just adorable, and she will ruin you completely. 

“I… uhm…”

“Mm? Too shy? Come on — give it a try.”

Kafka lifts your wrist with one hand to place yours over her naked breast, letting the pliable flesh fill your palm. Your fingers twitch with the urge to squeeze and she presses your hand down firmer against herself, eyelids lowering at the sensation. You feel her perky nipple flush against your skin and stare at your intertwined fingers on her chest. Your lips part as she squeezes her breast with your hand and tilts her head slightly backwards, an appreciative hum rumbling in her throat. Her thighs flex around your hips, her body shuddering beneath your touch. 

“Mmm, good…” She repeats the action, this time firmer, urging you to cup a handful of her. Her breaths grow a bit heavier with the ministrations and yours are stuck in your throat from how impossibly sexy she looks in this moment. 

Kafka guides your hand down her chest, across her toned stomach and under the velvet of her dress to tease the band of her lacy underwear. Your chest stutters under her heated stare and she encourages you to feel how worked up she is, smearing her arousal over her already-wet cunt. Her hips roll into your palm, seeking more friction. She revels in the twitch of your fingers on her thigh and the lust etched on your features. She bends forward, her hair falling over one shoulder and tickling your skin, and breathes out right into your ear.

“You just do what feels right, remember? Just feel…” She pulls your earlobe between her teeth, then her tongue darts out to lick up the shell of your ear. “Don’t be shy, feel how wet you make me.”

“Ah…”

She rocks her hips a little harder, and you both hear and feel the stifled moan she lets out against your earlobe as her hand tightens on yours, pressing your fingers further into her. Your head tilts to the side when her forehead drops to your shoulder. Back arched over you, lips parted in low sinful moans, Kafka uses your digits to pleasure herself, slipping them under her thin panties and between her slick folds. She’s nimble and precise, she teaches just how to touch her to unravel her and makes sure to let you know how good she’s feeling to ease any lingering hesitation. Your middle finger circles her dripping entrance before inching inside, and her hips meet your eager thrusts with the same amount of excitement. You feel her teeth grazing your shoulder, her breasts on yours as she leans her upper body into you some more; you slip a second digit into her, rubbing her warm spongy walls, and can’t help the pitiful noise that escapes you at the feeling of her slick coating your fingers. One of her hands keeps yours against her pussy while she grinds into the heel of your palm for the sweet friction of her aching clit on your skin, and the other is planted near your head to avoid fully collapsing into you. It wavers the closer she gets to her peak, pleasure jolting through her like little electric shocks lighting every nerve on her body. Kafka unashamedly makes a mess of your hand and kisses your shoulder between drawn-out moans.

“Mmmnn… That’s it, just like that…” Her teeth sink into your shoulder and your breaths hitch simultaneously. Her raspy encouragements drop even lower in pitch, the sound of it so close to your ear goes straight to your pussy and your underwear clings almost uncomfortably to your skin from how drenched you’re getting. 

“You… sound so…”

Kafka laughs breathlessly, though it almost comes out as a moan. She pants hotly against you, her orgasm building with each thrust into her cunt. She grinds into you more urgently, chasing the electrifying sensation of her clit on your palm and chasing her release with each movement of her hips. Her hand guides your touch further, shifting your fingers in a way that makes her shiver.

“Hah… I’ll sound better when you make me moan your name…”

A strained noise struggles to leave your mouth at her cheeky reply, an implied challenge, and you plunge your fingers deeper inside her to hear her voice falter in the middle of another hum. Her pussy tightens around you, squeezing you and sucking you in so deliciously your mind fogs up until you’re unable to focus on anything but how wet she feels around your fingers. The pleasant stretch of her cunt has Kafka’s eyes fluttering open and shut and sweat clinging to her backside, sweet tremors shooting up the arm supporting her body above you. She’s close, you both feel it. She lets out a shuddering breath, her thighs growing tense. You quicken your pace, aching to hear her come, and it doesn’t take much longer for her to stagger over the edge. She comes with a stifled moan, limbs shuddering as she clenches tight around your fingers and pleasure pulses through her. She almost loses her breath, her gasps hot against your shoulder, and her hand grips yours harder, manicured nails digging into your skin and no doubt inking red crescents into it. Her body twitches with the aftershocks and you still your fingers inside her to allow her to come down for her high. It’s a moment before her hazy mind clears and her hand finally leaves yours.

You slip out of her and Kafka straightens up above you, bringing two wet fingers up to tease your lips. Her gaze is heavy, still a little clouded from the pleasure she just experienced. Her cheeks are beautifully flushed, her hair is a tad disheveled, and the cocky smile on her lips only adds to her allure. You meet her lidded eyes and take her digits into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around her, the satisfaction in her dark stare making your pussy clench around nothing. You’re aching to be touched and she knows it. She applies pressure on your tongue as you suck her cum covered fingers clean, moaning around them at the taste. Her head tilts sideways and Kafka leaves your mouth to observe the string of saliva connecting her digits to your bottom lip until it breaks on your chin. She bends low, the tip of her tongue picking the trail back up and licking up your chin, then connects your lips with a heady kiss. Her clean hand sneaks under your shirt to curl around your breast. Some of her precision from earlier has slipped away, leaving only untamed passion behind. You can taste your shared breath, every heavy exhale she doesn’t care to control, and your head spins. Her lips are soft against yours, tasting vaguely of the lipstick she applied hours ago. It mixes with the flavour of her cum still on your tongue. Your hand tangles in her loose hair. You part your  mouth wider to welcome her slithering tongue and surrender full of control of the kiss; it slides over your tastebuds sloppily, greedily seeking more contact. Your bottom lip glistens when she pulls away to speak, lips brushing yours with each word and tone full of promise.

“Can I touch you too?”

“Yes.”

Kafka chuckles at the quick and urgent response, clearly enjoying how wrecked you already look beneath her. She grins, her hand running down your torso, and she starts to push the fabric of your top up, inch by inch, exposing your stomach and chest. “Someone’s eager…”

“Easy to tease when you’ve already got your release,” you mumble.

She doesn’t refute your claim, only smirks, pausing her movement for a moment to admire the skin she’s already revealed. Her fingers fingers brush over the skin just above your waistline, and you shiver a bit below her at the contact. She reaches under your bra and circles your erect nipple with a finger, watching goosebumps appear on your skin with the ministrations. You swallow thickly. You attempt to squeeze your thighs together, the heat between them too distracting, and Kafka turns smug. She moves, straddling your thigh so that her knee presses against your clothed cunt and keeps you from finding any sort of relief on your own. Her lips find the underside of your jaw, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your to your neck. You stammer as they brush the sensitive spot right above your pulse point and she sucks the skin into her mouth for more of the quiet sounds you can’t reel in. Two fingers pinch your nipple, twisting the hard bud this way and that, prompting sighs of pleasure from you. 

Leaning back, Kafka makes quick work of your bra and in one swift movement pulls your shirt up over your head, discarding the clothes somewhere on the floor. Her hands come up to cup your breasts, palms rubbing against the sensitive skin, reveling in your sighs and soft moans. They memorize the shape of your body with the same intensity as her gaze, and she can feel herself slowly getting addicted to the way you arch beneath her touch like the cigarettes she smokes every day. The pads of her thumbs circle your nipples in teasing circles, and your hips buck into her knee in search of relief. She’s intent on leaving you wanting a while longer, but then the corners of your lips bend downward in the cutest impatient pout she’s ever seen and you breathe out her name with a tinge of desperation, hands holding on to the crumpled dress at her hips to tug her closer, and she suddenly doesn’t care to hold back her desire to ruin you. 

“Kafka…”

The sound of her name on your lips is intoxicating, it’s all she wants to hear coming from you. You’re hanging on by a thread, flustered and needy beneath her weight, and that fact makes her skin tingle. She pushes her knee into your pussy, causing your breathing to stutter, and her own cunt throbs with the need to feel yours, to have your cum smeared on her lips and your clit brushing hers. Kafka leans forward, capturing your mouth in a hungry kiss as her hands wander lower. She steals the rest of your breath away, swallowing those delightful little noises you make, before pulling away from you with a bite on your bottom lip.

“I want to feel how sensitive you are,” her words are low and sultry on your mouth, “how well you can take it…”

“Hah—!”

She grips the waistband of your pants, sliding them and your underwear off your legs in a single motion, leaving you entirely bare before her. Her touch is ravenous, her smile sharp at the edges, but there’s a softness in her eyes that’s almost imperceptible beneath the hunger. She trails her hands up your thighs, fingertips digging into the flesh just slightly, then she spreads them apart for her viewing pleasure. Your slick clings to your inner thighs and your pretty cunt glistens in her bedroom light, the sight alone almost makes her moan. 

Kafka shifts on the bed, one leg over yours, and she rests most of her weight against you. Her arms are planted on either side of you, her face is close to yours once more, mingling breaths heavy with anticipation. She lowers herself, slick cunt sliding over your own, and your lips part in a silent gasp at the feeling. She’s warm and wet against you, the friction between you slippery from a mix of cum and arousal. You have to hold on to her to keep your bearings, fingers curling around the back of her neck while your arm snakes around her waist to pull her flush to your body. From this distance, you can hear the little ways in which her breath hitches and wavers with every rock of her hips. Her twitching clit bumps into yours, causing ripples of pleasure that can be felt in your fingertips. The sensation is heavenly, you’ve never felt anything like it before, and is made even better knowing that Kafka wants this as much as you do. For a moment suspended in time you merely share breathy moans, noses nuzzling together and parted lips lightly touching. Your mind blurs, your limbs tense pleasantly, and you match her pace, desperate for more of her touch, of how good she makes you feel. Your eyes flutter shut, solely focused on the electrifying feeling of her puffy pussy messily kissing yours. 

“Kafka… Kafka…” her name falls from your lips in breathless gasps and broken sighs, over and over like a prayer for salvation, and she moans low in her throat in response. “Fu–Fuck…”

Your hands run down her backside to cup her ass, guiding her harder into your cunt, and your whine is cut in half as Kafka crashes her mouth on yours. Her kiss is messy, more urgent than anything, a simple tangle of tongues and wet lips. She moves against you with purpose, chasing release a second time and using your cunt to achieve her goal. Her hips grind into you and keep you pinned beneath her weight. The friction of your clits together makes you dizzy with the need to come and your thighs twitch with the mounting pleasure tensing up your stomach. You can barely breathe through your nose, your lips too busy returning Kafka’s insistent kisses, but you can’t bring yourself to care when she moans your name into your open mouth, the sound low and airy like the first notes of a cello. Her cum smears all over your wet pussy, claiming you intimately, and your eyes roll back into your head as she picks up the pace in a desperate desire to come. 

“Mmmn… Yes…” She’s close enough that the moans tumble out of her mouth helplessly, a mix of throaty hums and raspy curses against your lips.

“I–I’m gonna—”

“Yeah…? Give it to me.”

Her breathy command is enough to send you head first over the edge with her name on your lips. You come hard, body shuddering with the intense waves of pleasure that wash over you, clenching under her, and the feeling of your hot cum mixing with hers has Kafka coming shortly after you, a drawn-out moan tearing itself from her throat. Your toes curl, your fingers dig into the soft flesh of her ass, and you lie helplessly beneath her as she rides her orgasm on your cunt. The arms supporting herself tremble with the force of her release but they stay put, framing your head and trapping you where you are. Chests heaving, it takes a while for the both of you to catch your breath and clear your mind. Kafka’s head drops to the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of you in a gesture uncharacteristically open and sweet. Some of her defenses lower a touch after a particularly intense orgasm and it reveals a side of her you’re seeing for the first time. One hand sinks into her disheveled hair to scratch her head and she hums like a pleased cat. 

It’s a tender moment; you can’t tell how long it lasts, only that you instantly miss it once it’s gone. Kafka returns to her controlled self, lifting her head to gaze down at you with her usual smile, if only a bit softer. It’s strange, even with her completely bare and the intimacy of sex, the sight of her contact lenses remind you that there will always be a part of her hidden from you. She’s like the moon in that sense, you look up at her with adoration because she’s forever out of reach. She’s inches away from you, so deceptively close, yet there is a barrier between the two of you, one that you can’t see and keep bumping into in a pathetic need to know her soul. Kafka is older, and while she doesn’t regard you as a naive young adult, you have a feeling that you’ll never be of equal standing in her eyes. You can sense her pulling away from you in the way she cups your jaw, excessively gentle, traces the skin there with an index finger. 

“If this is the reward you want for a mission well done… I look forward to your next one, rookie.”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes despite the effort, she notices, but simply separates from you with a satisfied sigh. Kafka lies on her back, stretching her arms above her head with closed eyes, and you sit up against the pillows feeling a little dejected. What a hollow victory.

[coeurify]

i cant find this req for some reason but here is a ss i took of it.. enjoy ! 18+

Abby was the best roommate. Really. She was kind, always cleaned up after herself, was respectful, and just so quiet.

Abby would likely say the same thing about you, a slight grin on her face as she spoke to one of her friends about how lucky she had gotten with you, and how her friend agreeing to move in with her had been just an oh so perfect decision. How sweet and lovely you were to live with. Her pink lips wet as her tongue licked over them, quieter confessions about how attractive she found you usually followed. Not that she would ever admit that to you, however.

Nor would you divulge the information of just how many times you had shoved your face into a friend’s pillow as you rattled on about how good Abby looked when she came home from the gym, how badly you wanted to be the one she was always leaving the apartment to go see.

Neither of you minded the soft touches when you passed each other, the quiet breaths on your shared couch that always came when one of you pressed a little too close during movie night. In fact, Abby would even go out on a thin tree limb to say you both enjoyed toeing the line between platonic roommate activity and something more.

Most everything about this living situation was just perfect. Except for a tiny problem.

The painted white walls always held a certain hum to them. Whether it be music you tried your best to keep low.. or Abby watching a movie. It always sunk between the foundation between your rooms, echoing the covered walls in a way that had become clear very soon into moving in with your friend. The walls were so incredibly thin, but you thought you had adapted.

Abby always disappeared into her room early most nights, unless you asked otherwise. By midnight on most days, the walls fell utterly silent, aside from a few creaks of Abby’s bed. The night had become your saving grace, the only time you didn’t have to worry about your roommate hearing anything.

Usually.. she didn’t. Tonight, however, the story was completely different.

It didn’t really matter how you had ended up here. Maybe Abby came home with a little extra confidence after the gym today, smiling and leaning over you at the table, questioning what book you had your nose dug into, large arm on full display for you. Maybe Abby sat a little too close during the movie you watched, and stared at you a little too hard during certain scenes.

By this point, you couldn’t even remember what had gotten you to this current place. Your door cracked open, letting in the breeze that came from the air conditioner in the living room, the only solace to your sticky hot skin. Your thighs draped lazily around your favorite pillow, clenching around the soft pink cloth as you ground down into it. The pretty black lace of your panties acting as an added friction for your heated core as you moved your hips against the material. Your mouth gaped open, panting as you let out the softest moans you could muster, sweat shining in the furrowed space between your brows.

On any other day, you would have gone undetected. But tonight, of all nights, Abby found herself in a long battle with sleep.

She had tried every method known to mankind to rest, the early morning ahead a perfect candidate for why she should be squeezing her eyes closed the moment the clock on her bedside flashed the numbers “2:35 am” on the digital screen.

But now? Now Abby was thankful for three things, despite this sleepless frustration.

One, she was happy she wasn’t tired suddenly. Two, she was so fucking delighted the walls of this apartment were thin. And three? Abby was just purely ecstatic that you didn’t know at all how to keep quiet.

Abby tried to be a kind roommate at first. She pressed further away from the wall when she heard the first few soft grunts on the other side of the wall. Hell, Abby even put on headphones and began scrolling through her playlists to find a good set of songs so she didn’t invade your privacy like that.

But the moment she found her finger hovering over the blue-lit screen to begin a song, she heard it.

The softest, whiny calling of her name she had ever heard. It rang straight through the white paint, right over the posters plastered there, and settled sweetly in her ear.

You were moaning her name.

Though she couldn’t see it, her imagination could only assume what you may be doing. What her sweet roommate was doing to herself thinking of her.

If she could see it, your quivering lip, open and panting Abby’s name, again, Abby may have died on the spot. If the blonde could bear witness to the wet spot that dripped through the fabric of your panties and onto the plush pillow... Well, she would have taken you right there.

All Abby had, however, was her imagination, just as you did. Though neither knew the fantasies that plagued both of your minds muddled together just a bit too much.

“Abby,” you whine into the quiet air, a mouth full of saliva— causing another choked sound as you swallow it down, hips pressing further into your pillow. You imagined it was her hands on your hips, leading all of your rushed and messy movements against the fabric.

You squeezed your eyes shut and did your best to paint the picture of the pillow being the blonde’s thigh, that your trembling hands were actually gripping the flesh of Abby’s shoulders as she urged you to keep going. You could almost pick out her tone of voice perfectly, a tape om loop in your mind of her urging you to keep going, ‘c’mon sweetheart... there you go, angel,’ she would whisper against you, lips pressing to your skin just so softly. If you held your breath long enough, you could almost hear it.

Abby, on the other side of the wall, did her very best not to stand straight up out of bed and let her feet find your door. This proved itself a difficult request for both her mind and body when your sounds sped up, growing louder and louder against her very honed in eardrums.

The blonde rubbed her eyes, hands aching to grab something very different. Maybe the fat of your thigh as she pressed them open, leaving you all out in the open for her to admire. Maybe the palm of her hand slapped over your mouth as she pulled you closer to her, humming near your cheek that you needed to, ‘Be quiet for me, doll. You know how thin these walls are, don’t want our neighbors to hear, right?’ She even imagined them pressed impossibly far between your legs, fingers so deep into your aching cunt that one curl would have you gushing around her digits.

Though that night, neither of your nighttime fantasies came to fruition. You had climbed off your poor pillow one mindblowing orgasm later, thighs shaking as you made quick work of cleaning your mess.

Abby stayed silent as possible until you fell asleep, and dug her own hands down into her pants— someone, and some noises specifically in mind.

(random cut off sorry uhh p2?)

[pixelmensupremacy]

Ephemeral oblivion

A/N: I'm loving the remake so far. So, expect more fics in the far future.

Word count: 3.8k

WARNINGS: fem!reader, porn with no plot, a bit of blood, teasing, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, rough sex

The snow-white door, peppered with elegant golden ornaments, lead to an eerie corridor. Unnerving -almost alarming- silence had fallen upon the prolonged space, contrasting the commotion of the previous room that had been overcrowded with hostile courtiers the two agents were forced to take out. The stone brick walls emitted coolness and a cold breeze oozed from the tall windows; the dust-covered glass revealed the dreadful night sky deprived of the gentle moonlight that was obstructed by a thick sheet of puffy, smoky clouds. A lonely antique brass floor lamp stood in a darkened corner, serving no purpose other than decoration; opposite of the lamp was a small wooden coffee table atop which rested a typewriter.

"That was close." Leon panted, hot puffs of air escaped past his agape mouth, his chest rose and feel back against the door. Beads of sweat had broken out on his fair skin, making it glow under the scarce moonlight; the muscles of his arms were tense as they pressed against the hard wood, the impact caused a few of his veins to pop out, trailing deep blue and purple creeks that trailed along his pale skin up to the pinnacle of his biceps.

"You don't say." (Y/N) tsked as she shifted her attention away from his masterpiece of a body, leaning against the cold wall just mere inches away from him and relished the pleasant sensation of the stone bricks cooling her overheated body instead. Her heart raced in her ribcage; every beat echoed loudly in her ears.

Once the effects of the adrenaline began to wear off, the pleasant coolness of the room quickly turned into an unbearable coldness. Despite having her arms wrapped around her torso in a hopeless attempt to preserve her body heat, (Y/N) shivered as the howling wind blew in the narrow space; the haunting noise only caused another set of shivers to run down her spine. Beside her, Leon seemed unphased by the cool weather and his lack of clothing; it almost made her blood boil at how carelessly he would walk around with a short-sleeved turtle neck the thin fabric of which unlikely did anything to keep him warm. Her envious eyes lingered on his form, continuing to doubt he was able to withstand the low temperatures, instead she sensed a spark rekindling deep within her that brought the warm feeling of thrill she so desperately tried to repress ever since the beginning of this assignment.

Blood traveled to her cheeks, blissfully warming them up; her pupils dilated further, darkening her gaze that continued to trace the outlines of his sculpturesque form that appeared silky smooth and flawless hugged by the gray material of his turtle neck that she couldn’t help but associate with a notional look of a fantasy creature, blessing her with its presence. Her hands trembled as the adrenaline had completely evaporated from her bloodstream and she was left with a wave of cold sweat that coated her shivering form. Heat radiated from his body, drawing her in. His captivating appeal repelled her as much as it attracted her. Even if she tried her best to distance herself from Leon in the end, she found herself clinging closer to him; it was a vicious circle she couldn’t get out of and she hated herself for it. From their very first encounter, (Y/N) knew she should avoid him, not get involved in a situation that may result in a heartbreak. Though, as if it was some sick joke the universe was playing on her, fate only brought them closer and now she was forced to deal with it.

"A 'thank you' would be nice." He looked at her. The blues of his eyes were deep, different hues collided together as his pupils dilated and ate away at the beautiful ocean of emotions, instead leaving behind gaping holes that -akin to a black hole- could swallow her whole.

"For what?" She raised her brow at him, her own gaze now locked on his as her eyes squinted.

"For saving your ass." The corners of his lips curled in a smug grin; he pressed his shoulder against the door, shifting his form so he was fully facing her. Intentionally or not, he successfully anchored her attention to his broad shoulders; (Y/N)’s eyes followed the outline of his form that threw a shadow across her much smaller one.

“And how exactly did you do that?” She stood on her tip toes, almost completely closing the already short distance between them. Leon’s hot breath hit her face as he let out a deep chuckle; the melodic sound resonated through her, tingling her senses in a way they have never been. Silence fell upon them; his icy orbs bore into her (E/C) ones as he darted his tongue across his bottom lip, coating it with saliva that glistened under the dim moonshine. (Y/N) felt her heartbeat picking up once more, in anticipation for the last drop to overflow the glass of repressed emotions and release the awfully obvious sexual tension between them.

“You get distracted easily.” He tailed off; his gaze observed her face, monitoring her features. “Take it as a friendly advice from me. Try not to daydream on the job, it could get you killed and I won’t always be there to watch after your ass even if I would like to.” He breathed out the last words, loud enough for (Y/N) to hear; the tone of his voice was suggestive, giving a double meaning to his statement. Heat rose to her cheeks; anger and embarrassment ran through her veins.

How dare he?

Pulling at the strap, tightly wrapped around his muscular chest, she held him from drawing back; her gaze- ablaze with flames of anger- pierced through him, causing him to freeze in place. Her eyebrow knit together casted a shadow above her eyes; his own darted between her captivating gaze and her oh so inviting lips.

“Maybe if you didn’t flirt with me every five minutes, I would’ve been able to focus on my job!” (Y/N) snapped back at him; the force of her grip grew as Leon’s face kept getting closer to hers with each passing second. “Perhaps you’re the one, who should stop daydreaming while on duty since your head is always in the clouds.”

“Is that so?” He dared, staring right back at her.

“Yeah. You can’t have every woman you lay your eyes on. Get it in that head of yours.” Her gaze darted downwards, breaking the eye contact for a split second- the single moment that took Leon to make a choice he might regret later. Digging his hand in her hair, he tangled his fingers in her locks as he closed the space between them. Soft lips crashed against hers in a passionate kiss that was both hesitant and needy. Boldly, (Y/N) leaned in and wrapped her arms around his neck; her nails lightly scratched at his skin, the sensation caused a whimper to rip through his throat and drown in her greedy mouth. Her fingers toyed with the hair at the base of his skull, dragging her nails along his scalp and digging them, intentionally coaxing the pretty sounds that resonated against her lips. Wandering hands traveled across the curves of her body, groping at any soft flesh they came across. (Y/N) bit at his bottom lip, breaking the kiss as she took her time sucking and pulling at the velvety skin. Continuing the abuse on his lip, she punctured the pillow soft flesh, causing droplets of blood to spill on her tongue and roll down her chin. The metallic taste tingled her taste buds as she lapped at his plum lip before she continued her venture down to his jaw. Sucking and kissing, she trailed the sharp line of the bone; Leon’s shaky breath tickled her ear. Strong force pulled her away right before she could reach the warm, delicate skin of his neck. Though she didn’t protest as she took a glance of his face; so worked up and messy. His mouth blood stained and agape, his eyes lustful and desperate, yet controlled and contained as they were focused on her.

“What’s up, Kennedy? Giving up so easily?” She tapped her fingers on his arms that held her at a distance.

“I didn’t expect you to be the freaky type is all.” Her heartfelt laughter resonated in his ears.

“Well, you better buckle up for what I got in store.” She shot him a mischievous look and leaned in for another kiss that Leon wholeheartedly welcomed all the while a similar impish grin curled the corners of his mouth. His palms ran down to her ass, groping the skin in a rough manner; (Y/N) whimpered, unintentionally granting him access to her mouth, where he sucked and bit at her tongue. She hissed; her nails dug in his flesh once more this time inflicting the same blissful pain on him. The calloused skin of his finger pads ran underneath the fabric of her gear, slightly pulling them down only to toy with the plush skin of her inner thighs. Shivers ran down her spine at the sensation of his cool digits rubbing in circular motions that were dangerously close to her aching pussy; the friction of his fingers on her velvety skin brought a warming sensation that made her forget about the chill inducing breeze. The air around them seemed to thicken; she felt breathless as Leon’s lips tirelessly pressed against hers.

(Y/N) gasped for air once he finally pulled away, a string of their mixed saliva connected their plump lips; their gazes were locked on one another, their foreheads were pressed against each other all the while their noses slightly brushed. Her breath was still shaky and her hands were clasped together around his neck, balancing her weight on him. The golden curtain of his bangs tickled her flushed cheek.

“Are you sure you want this?” His low voice was delicate and sweet.

“More than anything.” Desperation flickered behind the (E/C) of her almost invisible irises, hidden behind the gaping black of her pupils. A bright smile appeared on his face, making his stupid face all the more irresistible, though (Y/N) couldn’t appreciate the sight enough as she was suddenly lifted from the ground in a singular motion as if she weighted nothing. A yelp escaped past her lips at the grip of his arms tightening around her thighs; in return her own grip on him tightened as well almost chocking him under the impact of her hold. Though it seemed that didn’t bother Leon much, for his attention was focused on getting rid of the barrier of vexatious fabrics that restricted him from the pleasure he was so eagerly seeking. With his body he pinned her against the cold wall, whilst his hands worked on undoing her gear.

A gasp escaped past her lips as the cold air made its presence known with the cool breeze caressing her exposed ass, though Leon’s electrifying touch kept the flame within her ablaze; his hot breath and the warmth emitted from his body, made for a nice contrast to the freezing cold of the stone bricks (Y/N) was pressed against. For a few brief moments, Leon stood still with only his gaze scanning their surroundings in cautious manner; his attention was caught by the odd typewriter. The typewriter itself wasn’t strange but its presence in a desolate corridor was inapposite to say the least; so, without hesitation, Leon knocked it to the ground and sat (Y/N) on the table, where the machine was previously placed.

“Salazar’s not going to be happy when he sees this.” She remarked, the joking tone in her voice brought a smile to Leon’s face.

“A broken typing machine is going to be the least of his worries once we’re finished.” He struck her with a mischievous smirk as he got on his knees; hooking his fingers under the band of her pants, he pulled the fabric all the way down to her ankles. Holding her knees, he spread her legs apart; his gaze found hers all the while his palms crept up to her inner thighs, where his fingers rubbed circles into her plush skin. (Y/N)’s body jolted at his touch gentle and teasing as he avoided the place, she needed him most. Keeping his keen gaze on her, he toyed at her entrance, circling and pressing at her dripping hole without thrusting even an inch. The impact of his fingers on her aching core had her squirm, yet the stimuli was far from enough to grant her the actual pleasure she was seeking- or at least not in the amounts she wanted.

You’re so wet, sweetheart.” He remarked, a smug grin had curled the corners of his lips. “But I don’t skip prep so, you’ll have to wait a bit. I promise it’s gonna be worth it.” At first (Y/N) wasn’t pleased with his words; having thought of this moment in her wildest dreams for so long, her patience was wearing thin, though the words of protest drowned in the base of her throat and her mind went blank as she felt familiar pillow soft lips press against her sensitive bundle of nerves. Numerous moans and pants rolled down her swollen lips, her body shivered as the shocks of pleasure ran through her nerves. Pleased with her responsiveness, Leon hummed in delight; the vibration of his voice sent a new, stronger wave of pleasure that had her head rolling back and shamelessly moaning his name.

“You know..” He trailed off, (Y/N) practically felt his words against her pussy as her head was too clouded with the obscene delight of the situation, she found herself in, to be able to hear him properly. “As much as I like to hear your pretty sounds.” He spoke in between quick licks, making sure to not deprive her of the sensation that had her in the state of trance; his slick covered hand traveled up her body. “You’ll have to be quiet. Could you do that for me? I wouldn’t want anyone to crash our party.” She nodded eagerly, obliging without hesitation.

“Good.” Reaching her face, he prompted his index and middle fingers on her bottom lip. She darted the pads of his digits with her tongue, tasting herself off of him. Cautiously, Leon pressed his fingers against her hot tongue; he chuckled once she took them in her mouth. Her- now muffled- moans tingled his ears as he licked, kissed and sucked on her clit; he was almost out of breath, yet he kept going, rubbing circles on the place where his lips used to be every time he pulled back to catch his breath. Taking a glimpse of her, he noticed her eyes shut tight, sparkling droplets of tears had formed underneath the curtain of lashes, saliva spilled from the corners of her mouth and down his hand; the sight alone was enough to get Leon on edge if he wasn’t already, the growing excitement- restrained in his pants- made itself known as he was suddenly aware of the almost painful friction of the fabric of his gear rubbing against his hardened cock.

Pulling away, Leon took a deep breath in, in a failed attempt to ground himself as he took a hold of his throbbing dick through the fabric of his pants. (Y/N) whined at the lack of attention; stealing a glance of him, she saw him undoing his pants and eagerly stroking himself. Smug grin curled the corners of her mouth at the sight of him so lost in his own pleasure- the few moments he promised himself to calm himself down had turned into a minute, during which she carefully watched him all the while toying with her neglected clit herself.

A sequence of soft moans coming from the both of them composed a titillating melody that echoed across the empty space, breaking the dead silence of the lonely night. Leon’s eyes peeled open only to be met with the exquisite view of (Y/N); her fingers tirelessly pumped her hole, desperately trying to compensate for the pleasure he deprived her from, though seemingly with no effect. Stroking himself, he observed her- almost pathetic- striving to reach the pleasure she so desired. To him she looked adorable; her eyes were shut tight, her mouth agape with his name overtly rolling down her plump lips, creeks of tears traced paths along her cheeks. It took him all the willpower within him not to cum at the sight alone, and that’s when he decided he’s had enough of the foreplay.

Standing up, Leon took a hold of her legs; instinctively, she wrapped her limbs around his hips, bringing him closer to the point where she felt the weight of his cock, pressing against her lower tummy just mere inches away from her aching core. His darkened gaze bore into hers as he prompted his dick at the entrance of her dripping hole. The pad of his calloused thumb caressed her cheekbone, (Y/N) leaned into the touch as his hefty palm cupped her face, locking her gaze with his.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” He sounded serious, hesitant even, as if he wasn’t sure if it all wasn’t just another dream.

“Thought you wouldn’t ask.” She earned a deep chuckle from the man, which in return caused a tingle to form in her stomach; in return she smiled, pleased with able to make him laugh- genuinely. It almost felt awarding to be the reason behind his melodic laughter and charming smile- and god was she enamored by it.

“Hold tight.” Leon whispered in her ear, causing the tiny hairs on her neck to rise and bumps to cover the entirety of her exposed skin. Excitement rushed through her veins at the feeling of his hands caressing her hips and thighs before taking a hold of them; Leon glanced at (Y/N), silently asking for permission to grant them pleasure they both were yearning for. She kissed him as a form of a wordless sign of approval; her hands wrapped around his neck with her fingers tangling in his dirty blond locks, her nails lightly scratched his scalp as her grip on him tightened and loosened. Her breath hitched, her mouth fell open, a yelp escaped past her lips as the sudden, bittersweet feeling of being filled ripped through her core. Leon stood still, giving her time to adjust to the grith and length of him.

“Did I hurt you?” Concern was audible in his voice; his forehead pressed against hers. She shook her head no, giving him the relief needed for him to push all the way in. His lips pressed against hers, drowning the moans with his tongue that twirled with hers. Slowly, he pulled all the way out and glid the tip across her slit up to her neglected clit; in response, her body jolted and she whined at his teasing movements. Luckily for (Y/N), he soon pushed back in, instantly hitting a spot that had her seeing stars. Consistently thrusting in and out, Leon set a steady pace equally pleasurable for the both of them.

Gradually, her moans and groans grew more frequent and louder; her nails dug into his fair skin once again, leaving behind crescent marks on it. Biting at her bottom lip, Leon attempted to silence her sounds as they were too distracting for him to keep an eye out for any intruders- not that he really was able to do so. Quite the opposite, she groaned and let out a high-pitched moan as the tip of his cock hit her sweet spot. Once more, Leon kissed her; his hands groped her ass, kneading the flesh all the while bringing her hips flush against his, making it easier for him to continuously hit the places that had her squirm- and so he did. She was completely melted under his touch, eyes rolled to the back of her skull as if she was haunted by some diabolic entity, messy (H/C) strands stuck to her sweaty forehead, her entire body bounced at the impact of his merciless thrusts. His pace was quite rough, yet (Y/N) wouldn’t have it any other way.

Leon’s muscles tensed, his vision got blurry as the only thing he could sense was the pleasure, threatening to unfold and her sweet voice on his lips. Her velvety folds hugged him so perfectly and her juices generously coated his cock, making for the erotic melody of wet sounds and the ones of skin slapping skin with each of his rough thrusts. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer and nor could (Y/N). Her body jolted, her grip on him grew even tighter, her back arched off the cold wall she was pressed against under the impact of his body that pinned her. She pulled away from his greedy mouth, gasping for air; pulling on his hair. Near his earlobe, she whispered his name continuously akin to a mantra, her lips brushed against his ear, until a single, loud moan ripped from deep within her throat. Her vision got blurry as the wave of pleasure finally washed over her, unraveling the coil that had formed in her tummy. Though Leon kept going, pushing in and out in pursuit of his own high; her sweet sounds, tingling his ears, brought him dangerously close to his high sooner than he anticipated and the clench of her plush walls around him was enough to send him over the edge. Hot loads of cum coated her pussy. (Y/N) burned in overstimulation as he kept thrusting, riding out both of their highs until his thrust got sloppy and he slowed his pace.

For a few moments, that felt like eternity, the two stayed intertwined, catching their breaths as they came down from their orgasms. Glancing at each other through hooded, drunken eyes the two chuckled in disbelief, the pure joy in their laughter resonated across the room. Gently, Leon tucked a strand of hair that fell in her face, the tiny gesture so warming and full of affection.

“Why haven’t we done this earlier?” She panted; the breath flowed through her burning lungs.

“Well, I’ve been trying to get in your pants since the day I saw you.” Leon winked at her.

“How romantic.” She playfully hit him as she got on her still wobbly legs.

“We should have a round two. Once we get out of this mess.”

“Yeah, but first we gotta clean our mess.” She got on her still wobbly legs and glanced at the poor table that had turned into a pond of their mixed bodily liquids.

“Sadler must have maids or something.” Leon tsked.

“Unless they are brainless creatures by now.” The two of them giggled, still intoxicated from the aftershocks of their highs.

[foundtherightwords]

Fallen Empires - Chapter 6

Pairing: Geta x OFC

Summary: Having done the unthinkable to secure his throne, Emperor Geta rules with ruthlessness and paranoia. Now, after escaping an assassination attempt, a badly injured Geta is saved by Daphne, a young widow, who takes him back to her remote village without knowing his true identity. As Daphne nurses the former emperor back to health, attraction blooms between them, and Geta discovers a soft side he didn't know he possessed. But can their love survive his thirst for revenge and his desire to reclaim power?

Chapter warnings: none (just a brief mention of arousal... things are heating up between Daphne and Geta!)

Chapter word count: 3.6k

Prologue + Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

Chapter 6

It was almost the ides of June. The weather grew unbearably hot. Geta had toured extensively in the Eastern provinces, but it had always been in the comfort of an imperial convoy, with litters and tents for stops along the way and marble palaces to rest in once he reached his destination. Even when marching with the army, he'd never had to deal with such blistering heat. The elevation of the hill did little to help. The sun beat down so relentlessly that the rocky ground became quite literally baked and remained warm even long after the sun had set.

Due to the heat, Daphne now did all her work at dawn and in the evening, when the heat was more tolerable. During the day, she retreated inside the hut, where the mud-brick walls provided some relief. This meant she was a constant presence around Geta these days, and he was rather uneasy about it. Why he should feel uneasy about her, he didn't know. He no longer suspected her of duplicity and betrayal. If anything, he'd grown to trust her. Yet her presence put him on edge, and he found himself watching her while she moved about the hut, working on her potions and poultices or practicing her lettering. She had made some labels for the garden by scratching plant names on thin, flat pieces of pine board, and was now working on the labels for her medicine by stitching letters onto long ribbons to be wrapped around the jars.

When he offered to teach her to read and write, he'd only wanted something to occupy his mind, something to divert him from the tiring thought of retribution and punishment. To his surprise, he had rather enjoyed it, perhaps because it was the only time he could tell her what to do. He had enjoyed teaching her to play draughts as well, even though she was annoyingly good at it. In the army, the soldiers would sometimes challenge each other or place bets on games of draughts, to make them more exciting. Daphne could've cleaned out any of them.

He told himself he enjoyed her company simply because it was the only company to be had for miles around, other than the goats and the donkey. It was true that she was nothing special. She was only a peasant woman, with simple thoughts and simple feelings. And she wasn't even attractive. Her chin was too pointy, her nose too long, her mouth too large. Her figure—what he could see of it, swathed in layers of voluminous linen to combat against the sun—was too thin, all sharp bones and hard muscles developed from her trek up and down the hill, with none of the soft curves Roman women often boasted about. Only those green eyes promised some beauty, but they were so frank, so displeasing in their open stare that Geta sometimes had to turn away from them, afraid they could see to his very core and lay bare all the lies and the guilt, wriggling there like maggots.

The only time her eyes had looked at him with some softness was after the encounter with that odious father of hers, and even then it had only been briefly.

Perhaps that was why he enjoyed teaching her. She wasn't looking at him then. Instead, he could watch her frowning in concentration under the lamplight, her long lashes lowering as she bent over the wax tablet. He didn't have to worry about catching her eyes.

Damnation. For someone who didn't like her eyes, he certainly spent a lot of time thinking about them.

But what else was there to think about? Thinking about his would-be assassin and the conspirators got him nowhere, and thinking about Rome and the constant grumbling of the Senate only exhausted him. Even the possibility of conquering Parthia no longer held much appeal. He might have managed to sack Arbela, but the Parthians had proved to be formidable adversaries, and in his current state, he could never face them. He'd never realized before how tiring and tired it all was, this constant warring and conquest and ruling. So he turned away from them and thought of something else, something more pleasant.

One morning, he was up before his usual time. He went outside, intending to make the best of the cooler air by putting in some hours of sparring at the pine grove, when he spied movements in the garden. It was very early—only a border of pale pink snaked along the horizon, while the sky and the rest of the world were still covered in a bluish-gray veil, and some remnant of the night air was still lingering amongst the stones, not yet melted away under the sun—too early for anyone else to be about. His hand immediately went to the hilt of the dagger that had never left his side, a reminder of how close he'd come to death. He crept around the side of the hut to come up to the garden from the back, so whoever was there would not see him.

It was a woman, dressed in a short saffron tunic. She was moving between the garden rows, shaking the branches of the olive trees above them. Dewdrops fell from the branches, glittering around her like diamonds, splashing on the plants below. At the end of a row, she turned around and saw him.

"Kalimera," she said, using the usual Greek morning greeting. "You're up early."'

It was Daphne. She must have gotten up before him, and he hadn't noticed her empty cot in the front room when he went out.

For a moment, he stood transfixed. It was Daphne and yet not Daphne. Without her usual stole and mantle, she was no longer the dour woman always hurrying from one place to another, worry permanently etched on her brow. Standing before him was a fresh-faced girl, skin rosy and eyes sparkling in the light of the breaking dawn, disarmingly, magically smiling.

"So are you," he said, once he'd found his voice again. "What are you doing?"

"Watering the garden. Out here we have to make use of every bit of moisture we can get." She shook another olive tree as she spoke, and ducked away from the ensuing sprinkle.

"Why don't you just let the dew fall on its own?"

"No, it'll disappear when the sun rises. You must catch it at the right time, when the air is warm enough for the dewdrops to form, but not too warm that they melt away." She glanced at him. "Want to help?"

Geta was no gardener, but he had to admit this was rather sensible. He shrugged, put the dagger back into its sheath, and joined Daphne. Grabbing hold of one of the olive trees, he gave it a vigorous shake, bringing down a shower of not just dewdrops but old leaves and dead branches as well. Daphne laughed.

"Not so hard," she admonished. "Stay away from the branch, or all of the dew will fall on you and none on the garden. And shake it gently, like shaking ripe fruits from a tree." She gave the tree a firm but quick shake. Geta, who had never shaken ripe fruits from any tree, followed suit. "That's the way."

Nodding in approval, Daphne plucked the leaves out of his curls and brushed the dew from his forehead, her gesture natural as if she wasn't even thinking about it. Only when her fingers grazed his skin and their eyes met that she seemed to realize what she was doing. She dropped her hand and turned away, coloring slightly.

As they went down the garden path side by side, working together in silence, Geta kept glancing at Daphne. Something about her was different. It wasn't just because she had left off her usual covering and was showing a body that was unexpectedly lithe and elegant, with long, slender limbs and rounded shoulders. It wasn't just because her hair had caught on a branch and come loose from its usual tight knot, and was now framing her face like a soft cloud. It wasn't just because she, too, was stealing glances at him, her eyes no longer staring and critical, but with a curiosity that matched his own, and a gentleness that made him think of peaceful green hills and calming rivers again. It wasn't just because the rising sun was making her skin glow, reminding him of the rosy-fingered Aurora in her robe of saffron, hastening from the streams of Okeanos to bring light to mortals and immortals, just like Homer had written.

Confound the woman. Why did she always turn him into a bloody poet?

It wasn't because of any of those things, or perhaps it was because of all of them. He'd thought her just a simple peasant woman, but perhaps there was something confounding in her after all. She was like these rocky hills where she grew up, harsh and forbidding at first glance, but soft and nurturing to those who knew what to search for and where to look.

He didn't get any sparring done that morning, but he didn't mind.

The heat continued relentlessly and showed no sign of letting up. One evening, Geta could take it no more and went into the garden, intending to have a swim in the cistern.

"Where are you going?" Daphne asked, looking up from the wax tablet.

He told her. She looked appalled.

"You can't!" she exclaimed. "We must save the water for cooking and drinking. Not to mention that your lungs cannot stand being in such cold, they may get inflamed again—"

"Fine, fine," he said impatiently. He'd learned that when Daphne put her healer's voice on, it was best not to argue with her. "I only want a bath, is that too much to ask?" Daphne had never given him more than a basin of water, which sufficed for washing but not enough to cool him down in this infernal heat. He didn't know how Daphne could stand it. Even in her layers and layers of linen, she always appeared cool and fresh.

Now she got to her feet. "All right, I suppose you can have a bath. But inside, mind."

She dragged into the hut a wooden washtub, just large enough for a grown man to sit in, and set it by the fire, where the embers were still glowing weakly after cooking their supper. Geta expected her to fill the tub and was greatly disappointed when she only set down two buckets.

"That's all?" he said glumly.

"You have to get used to it. We're on the edge of a desert, you know," said Daphne sternly, as she set a pot of water on the fire and added a handful of dried herb to it. The water boiled, and the herb gave off a pleasant scent, so clean and fresh that it seemed to chase the heat away despite the boiling pot. With a start, Geta recognized it as the scent he'd always smelled on Daphne.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Soapwort," said Daphne, pouring the fragrant concoction into one of the buckets, and the water immediately started to froth. "We have no bath oils here, so this is what we use for washing." She put down a washcloth and a towel on a stool next to the tub. "Right. That's everything you need. I'll just be outside if you want anything." She picked up her wax tablet and a lamp and went out, tactfully closing the door behind her.

Geta had bathed this way while on active campaign with the army, so despite his grumbling, he managed to acquit himself quite well. Sitting in the tub, he used a dipper to pour the soapwort water over his body then scrubbed himself with the washcloth as best he could. There wasn't nearly as much water as he'd like, but it felt good to get thoroughly clean for the first time in months. As he lifted his arm to reach behind his back, however, a groan escaped him. The wound on his shoulder was still sore, the skin and muscles stiffened despite his exercising, and he couldn't reach far enough behind him to scrub his own back.

After a few tries and grumbles of frustration, he gave up and called out for Daphne.

She came in at once. "What do you need?"

"My back—I can't reach—" he mumbled, awkwardly covering himself with the towel. It was ridiculous. He'd never had any qualms about appearing naked in front of others—indeed, in his youth in Rome, he had attended many feasts and orgies where nudity was the accepted uniform—so why was he suddenly uncomfortable about being unclothed in front of this woman?

Daphne seemed to have noticed his discomfort. "Don't worry," she said, chuckling. "It's nothing that I haven't seen. Who do you think washed you while you were delirious with fever?" Her lighthearted tone did nothing to set him at ease.

She took the washcloth he put on the edge of the tub and started scrubbing his back in vigorous, practiced movements. No maidenly blushing, no modest lowering of the eye. At such a complete lack of bashfulness, Geta's own embarrassment subsided.

"You're probably used to a more civilized form of bathing than this, I imagine," she said.

Geta thought of the bathhouses of Rome with their many rooms and pools of various temperatures, with their masseuses and strigil-wielding slaves. One of those had been built in his name just shortly before he left for the East. They had their uses, but like most things in Rome, they were also temples to hedonism and excesses, where people came to do much more than just bathing. He wouldn't exactly call them civilized.

"I'm in the army," now he said with a shrug. "We're lucky if we get to bathe at all."

"Where were you before Parthia?" Daphne asked. Then she quickly added, "I didn't mean to pry. You don't have to tell me."

"It's all right." He was sick of keeping secrets. "I was in Germania. And Caledonia before that."

The washcloth stopped moving on his back. "You were in Caledonia?" Daphne asked, her voice hushed.

 He cursed under his breath. She probably had an acquaintance in the army. A brother, a sweetheart, or a husband? But if she did, it would have been—what, eight, ten years ago? Her acquaintance would likely have been in the auxiliaries, one of the troops offered up by King Abgar VIII to prove his loyalty to Rome, back when Osroene still had some form of independence and was not yet a province.

To confirm his suspicion, Daphne continued, "Do you know anyone from the auxiliary forces there at all?"

"No, not really," replied Geta. It was the truth. His father had dragged him and his brother to Caledonia to take them away from the decadence of Rome, in the hope of mending their dissolute ways and teaching them how to rule. It hadn't worked. Even when Geta became sole Emperor, though he tried to mingle with the troops and marched and ate and fought with them, he could never be one of them. The soldiers always viewed him with a certain suspicion, more fear than respect. He didn't mind, as long as they didn't question his authority. And that was with the legions. The provincial auxiliaries were essentially strangers to him.

"Why do you ask?" now he said to Daphne.

"My husband," she replied in an expressionless voice.

Her husband? Geta thought of the tunics he'd been wearing, of her strange behavior the day he first got out of bed. That explained it. He found himself wondering what the man had been like. Must have been a good one, since Daphne obviously still mourned him.

The thought of mourning reminded Geta of his predicament. Who would mourn him? Had they given him up for dead and mourned already? Had he been replaced? No, he couldn't believe that. At least his mother would never, not until she saw his body with her own eyes. Unless the army informed her of his disappearance, she may believe that he was still Edessa. He hoped it was true. Knowing his mother, she would've torn the Earth apart searching for him if she'd known. Macrinus must be keeping the truth from her. He felt the old anger flaring up again. What in Hades was Macrinus doing, sitting about twiddling his thumbs? Why hadn't they found him by now?

"He was killed in Caledonia, eight years ago," Daphne continued in that same flat tone, though he thought he could detect a trembling touch in it, like she was trying not to cry. "Or so I was told."

"We lost a lot of men in Caledonia," he said, as if that could be any comfort. The Caledonian campaign had been a success at first, but then the barbarian tribes, with their primitive but devastating tactics, had driven the Roman force behind Hadrian's Walls. Then his father had died in Eboracum, and Geta had no longer seen a point in pursuing the tribes. He'd had more pressing matters, such as his brother's presence and growing ambition like a thorn in his side. He'd hurried back to Rome to secure his power, leaving the Caledonians to their cold and misty land, thinking nothing about the lives that had been wasted in a campaign that led nowhere.

"I never find out what happened to him," Daphne said. She began scrubbing again, so hard it almost hurt him, but he made no sound. "Just a message saying he was killed. I don't even know when he was killed, or how long that message took to reach me. That's why I asked. I was hoping you could tell me something. Anything."

He didn't turn around, but he could hear the grief, despair, and resignation in her voice, and feel a strange little twinge in his heart. When his father decided to lift the ban on marriage for soldiers, Geta had gone along with it, believing it would raise morale and make them more popular with the army. But now, listening to Daphne, he was no longer so certain. Let the men have their fun with the camp followers and the local women of the garrison towns, but allow them to marry and leave behind wives to grieve and wonder for the rest of their lives like this? It was cruel.

Daphne dropped her hand on the edge of the tub. It looked small, vulnerable, like the wing of a wounded bird, so unlike the strong, capable hands he was used to. Without thinking, he reached out and placed his hand on top, his fingers fitting perfectly in the dips between hers.

She took in a small, sharp breath. Her hand flexed gently under his, as if she was trying to feel its grasp more thoroughly. Before he could stop himself, he was caressing her hand, running his fingertips over her knuckles. Something smooth—her forehead, or perhaps her cheek—came to rest on his bare back, and a slow, shuddering breath, like a quiet, choked-back sob, escaped her lips, blowing hot against his skin.

His heart thumped. She had never sat so close to him, had never touched him in any way other than medically; yet here she was, practically embracing him, her hand in his, her face pressed into his back, her hair tickling his shoulder blades, and that earthy, enchanting fragrant was everywhere, until he didn't know if it was coming from him or her or the very air around them.

One thing he did know: he was becoming aroused. And it wasn't the purely physical type of arousal he usually got upon waking up in the morning. He was aroused by her.

Even though she was behind and could not see him, he froze, not daring to move a muscle lest the traitorous towel chose that moment to shift and reveal his condition to her.

Hades. What was the matter with him? He, who used to think nothing about pulling a serving girl out of a banquet and having his way with her in the anteroom before sauntering back in time for the second course, he who had had camp followers fighting for a place in his tent at night while on campaign, was now blushing and squirming in the presence of a woman, like a boy still wearing a bulla around his neck!

Daphne seemed to have noticed his tension, for she lifted her head from his back—much to his regret—and leaned down. "Is everything all right?" she asked with professional concern. "The water's not too cold for you, is it?"

Her mouth was right by his ear, close enough to touch. Hades. This was more than a man could endure.

"Everything's fine," he said, snatching the washcloth from her. "I can manage now."

She sat back, clearly put out by his brusque tone, but when he started scrubbing his chest with rather too much force than necessary, she only said, "Careful, or you may tear your wounds open again," in the same wry tone she often used with him, and went out again, taking along the pot of leftover soapwort.

A bulla is an amulet worn by Ancient Roman boys before they came of age.

Soldiers in Ancient Rome were forbidden to marry while on active duty (though this didn't apply to centurions and higher-ups), but Severus Septimius did lift that ban in 197.

Taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92, @justnobodynothingmore, @barcelonaloverf1life, @myotakureprieve, @flawssy-227, @itsrainingbisexualfrogs (if you want to be tagged or removed, let me know!)

[izvmimi]

cw: pop star!au. fem!reader with diva & tsun tendencies. sfw but suggestive. possibly may have more parts.

When you finally show up to the studio, having woken up hours past your expected alarm such that you had to skip your yoga and your poolside brunch, your assistant is not happy to see you in the least, and the rest of your camera crew is at least a little bit miffed.

And quite frankly, you don’t give a flying fuck. 

You’re about forty-five minutes late, but the fact of the matter is that the main attraction is you, and only you, and as one of the top international pop stars of the decade, you have gotten a little too comfortable with letting your whims set the tone of things. The hustle and bustle of the set however starts up again the moment you walk in, as your head assistant claps her hands and lets the crew know to set up cameras, makeup and outfitting to get ready to put you in their chair and turn you magical. 

You walk right up to her and give her a cheeky grin. 

“Sorry, I overslept.”

Aya wishes she could throw you out of the nearest window but settles to say slap a script in a sheet of paper into your chest.

“This is the plan for the music video. Read this and don’t piss me off.”

You frown as you take it from her then scan through the crumpled piece quickly. Your newest music video is supposed to be a bit sexier than usual, with a pretty generic storyline - you play a damsel in distress saved by a dashing hero, the trope subverted by the fact that you’re a succubus, far from someone to be saved. You’re excited for it, having played a little bit too close to sweetheart territory for so long, and it’ll be your first time having an actual top Hero as your love interest, unlike your prior models who were more props than anything else.

But there’s one issue.

You crinkle your nose in distaste.

“You got Deku!?”

Aya raises her eyebrow adjusting thick rimmed glasses as she repositions her stance as though she’s preparing for a fight, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Is there a problem?”

You groan dramatically, then rush past her, pretending to be aggravated as you make your way towards the breakfast spread that has remained untouched until you arrived and stuff a dry croissant in your mouth.

“I asked for a hot Hero! Sexy! I ask you to do your goddamn job and you hire a man with green Teletubby energy!”

Somebody beside you scoffs, and as the two of you glance in the worker’s directions, he’s unable to stifle his laughter before he walks off, pushing a cart of cleaning supplies with him. You twist your mouth to the side, hands on hips, then turn your attention back to Aya.

“So you’re telling me Dynamight, Red Riot, and Shoto were unavailable?”

Aya’s lips press into a thin line. Despite being your assistant, she’s still one of your closest confidantes and she bites back just as hard as you can, and as usual, she does so now.

“I said, don’t piss me off, Tinkerbell. I’ll have you know I spent a lot of extra time making sure to-” she stops chewing you out suddenly, her eyes wide, and you blink, then turn. 

Deku is standing right behind you, and you’re 100% certain he heard your exchange. If he’s upset, he doesn’t show it, instead he’s smiling sheepishly, his hand scratching the back of his neck. 

“I think Kacchan was a bit busy and uh… Shoto probably wouldn’t have done this anyway, he’s not the type. As for Red Riot… that I’m not really sure...,” he trails off, pensive.

You blink at him rapidly as you crane your neck to look at him.

Pro Hero Deku is a lot taller than he looks on television. His face is still boyish and friendly, the harmless look not necessarily limited to television, but when you take a look at the rest of his countenance, broad shouldered and thick, it’s clear that there’s a reason why he’s topping the charts currently.

Even if his soft look doesn’t particularly scream sex appeal. 

“Sorry you’re stuck with me.” He bows politely, hands pressed against the sides of his jeans. “Let’s work hard together!”

When he rises, he’s looking at you with hopeful anticipation, and the way his eyes practically glow with earnestness actually upsets you.

You open your mouth then close it. The diva persona of yours isn’t without an ounce of empathy, but he’s already getting on your nerves. You look at Aya who gives you the glare she does when she wants you to behave, but you’ve already stomped your foot and stormed away.

Frustrated and unsure why.

“I’ll be at my trailer, call me when we get started.”

—

The problem is that he’s hot, and you hate to be wrong.

The type of hot that makes your head spin when you’re too close, that makes you forget the words you’re supposed to be singing to him, that makes the fans that blow through your wig and flowing clothing not enough to manage the heat that runs through your body.

“Get closer!” the videographer screams behind the camera and you swallow thickly as Izuku moves first, crossing the already minimal distance between the two of you to wrap his arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders. It’s supposed to be a romantic, protective pose, and he’s not looking at you but at the camera, but he’s so close, he smells good, his clothes are dramatically torn, ripped in the way you’d expect after a tense battle but artificially so. Your heart thumps as if he were protecting you for real, and you hope he can’t sense it, the disarray that’s running from your center to your fingertips as you try desperately to figure out where to put your hands. 

“___, can you please find a way to make this look more natural?” you’re being barked at by your greatest hater and favorite employee.

Aya, please shut the fuck up, you want to tell her, but Deku hasn’t let you go. 

“Next take.”

Deku finally releases you and you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. He’s smiling, the makeup dust and grime and blood barely marring his handsome features, in fact accentuating them.

They didn’t have to make him look this good. You’re going to have a talk with the visual designer, this is getting ridiculous.

“Sorry, was that okay?” He’s still smiling, bashful as if he’s the one who can’t stop looking at you, and imagining how his hands would feel pressed against your chest, when it’s very clearly the reverse. You wonder for a moment how easily he attracts the opposite sex with this sweet boy act, as if the plentiful scars on his broad chest, littered over his arms and likely below the pants hanging low on his waist, creeping past the Adonis belt aren’t evidence that perhaps he’s not so toothless after all.

You want to practically smack him, he frustrates you so damn much.

“Adequate,” you answer. The director tells you to take five and you step away quickly, practically falling off the fake set rubble on your way down.

You can’t even stumble the way you want to, because Hero Deku is fast and is holding onto your arm before you can make your way down.

“You okay?”

Unwittingly, you give him a distressed look, and he lets go quickly, and you storm off.

“I’ll be in my trailer!” you announce again, while the workers grumble that you’re supposed to literally only take five.

Aya is chuckling to herself this time, because she’s clocked you a mile away.

Tinkerbell has a crush.

[pleasingforharry]

Hi!! Is there any chance I can request a oneshot with actor y/n x harry, where Harry is y/n's plus one to her new movie premiere which she stars in as a romantic lead with another famous actor but he gets jealous and overprotective as he has to sit there and watch the steamy and sex scenes with his girlfriend and her costar he has a keen dislike for, and has to try not explode watching that, then going to the after party watching the actor trying to flirt and share small touches (holding her waist to walk past etc) then when harry and y/n get back to their hotel room he shows her just how much he wants and loves her, to the point he wants that actor to hear her scream harrys name a few doors down

this is so jahshdkrkbwaksocjwnw

you know my other bae andrew garfield had to make an appearance ;)

-

actress!yn

-

WORD COUNT: 17.9k words... whoa sorry.

WARNINGS: Uh... SMUT. and yeah smut :)

-

You and your boyfriend, Harry, are in your hotel room, changing quickly for the premiere of your new movie, Hot Shot. It's been a long few months filming this, especially because you just finished advertising The Good and Bad Days, which you starred in with your boyfriend.

“Harry, can you zip me up, please?" You ask him as you stand at the wide, full-length mirror. Your body is showered, shaved, and glowing—soon to be sucked into your tight dress. You and your stylist wanted to make a statement with your two outfits; for the premiere and for the afterparty. Hours were spent trying dresses on, gagging at some, staring blankly at some, struggling with some, falling in love with some, debating with some.

But you finally have the two that will make you feel beautiful, sexy, and confident on your day. You're feeling great about tonight.

Harry emerges from the hotel bathroom while clearing his throat, hair finally tamed.

Only twenty minutes ago were you two completely naked and handling some serious sexual tension after seeing each other in your premiere attires. This is the second time you're putting on this dress, thanks to Harry.

"Of course, I can, baby," Harry says, gladly slipping behind you to admire the tan on your back. As Hot Shot was filmed in Florida, you were under the beaming sun for months, and Harry has never been so attracted to a simple tan.

He takes his time leading the zipper up your back. Your eyes shift to his through the mirror, and you both hold a long stare. It's filled with another potential round of tension.

Harry's eyebrow cocks up. Yours does too, in a tease. "One more round?" He speaks suggestively. Your hand reaches back to hit him on the forehead. It's ignored, though, as he continues to stare with hope.

Your boyfriend is a horny, horny man when it comes to you.

"Absolutely not. I can't be late to my own premiere," You scoff at him with an apparent look through the mirror.

"Sure you can," Harry shrugs, finishing the zipper, before wrapping his arms around you from behind. He presses a soft kiss to the crook of your neck. "Taking care of my beautiful girlfriend is worth the tardiness. Make her scream my name and tug on my hair because she just loves when my tongue plays with her pretty, pink clit so good, hmm? When it’s all swollen and sensitive. Spread her legs wide so she's all open for me. Her come sticking to her thighs that I'll lick up. How's that sound?" His mind seems stuck in a daydream as he trails his mouth to your ear. His hot breath shoots instant shivers down your neck.

You bite your lip and let your head fall back onto his shoulder. Your dress is slim, thin, innocent in pink but also seductive and sneaky enough to replicate your character in your film. Harry's hands can't help but wander down your sides and land on your hips. He unexpectedly bumps his thickened pants against your ass with a smirk.

"Trust me, we can be late, baby."

You sigh and slither around in his hold—facing him correctly. Your hands rest on his shoulders as you lean forward to kiss him. He eagerly waits to envelope your lips, holding you tighter at the hip.

"Just think—“ you whisper against his mouth—nude lipstick plumping your lips, "as soon as the afterparty is over, we'll have hours to do whatever we want. You can have me in any way, and I can take you from anywhere, for the rest of the night." If Harry wasn't already throbbing in his tight, dress pants, he is now.

"I can't wait," he responds breathlessly, before putting himself out of his misery and kissing you properly. He holds you loosely as his hands squeeze at every curve pulsing your body shape. He loves everything about you. And you're all his. But not for the whole day.

You pull back from the kiss and smile. "Ready, plus one?" You wink.

He laughs, "This is weird. Now I have to stand aside while you take pictures, huh?" You shrug.

"We’re too sexy-looking for the cameras to handle. It's for their own good," You joke. Harry grins, loving your voice, your humor, your smile. You. And he knows it's gonna be a long premiere with him having to share you with the world.

"Alright, let's go before I throw you on this bed. Again," Harry teases—one last kiss for good luck.

-

"Y/N!"

"Y/N, over here!"

"Y/N, who are you wearing?"

"Y/N, you look amazing, darling. Look here!"

"Y/N, what do you think about—“

Your name is being yelled out in all directions as soon as you step out of your car, finally arriving at the Hot Shot premiere. Your hand hovers over your eyes as you wait for Harry to round his side. He finds his arm around your waist and whispers, "Ready, superstar?"

"More than ever, rockstar," You say back, before letting him and your crew bodyguard you to the carpet. Tabloids have been waiting hours to see what you'll show up in. News channels have been pushing each other around in hopes to be the first to talk to you. Your fans have been nail-biting anxious to see how the premiere will treat you.

Today is going to be interesting, you think to yourself as you squeeze closer to your comfort person, Harry.

Hot Shot is your movie about a trained assassin, your character, who is being hunted down and chased by an ex-police officer, played by your co-star, Andrew Garfield. It involves a lot of action and sex scenes as the two characters have a big love-hate relationship.

This movie is different from what you've done before, and you're proud that it's finally out and people are going to see your hard work. That's what you tell the interviewers that stop you every few heeled steps.

Harry stands with your manager, waiting and watching patiently as you do your thing. A year ago when you two were at the premiere for your movie, The Good and Bad Days, Harry was by your side answering questions with you. But not anymore. As much as Harry loved to shoot the film and have his actor era with you, he missed touring and making music. That's why he's fine watching you instead of joining you.

"And yeah, I was a little nervous during—“

Suddenly, a heap of screams come from the fans at the barricades. You look over your shoulder at Harry, who simply shrugs. His height helps him slightly see over the crowds of people. But then his eyes focus on the man stepping out of his car with that award-winning smile.

Andrew Garfield.

You continue to answer questions, wanting to get all of your interviews out the way. And as everyone is asking the same thing, it's getting a little boring.

Andrew starts walking down the carpet, waving at fans, before quickly splitting away from his crew to take pictures with them. Harry watches from afar, his hands fisting at the one person he knows he’s going to have to deal with all night. Your main co-star.

As the two leads in the film, Harry knew, just like during promo season for The Good and Bad Days, you and Andrew would be together a lot. And you guys were. Three weeks of promo meant three weeks of Harry watching his girlfriend obliviously be flirted with.

You finish another interview, before your manager snatches you away. You thank them tremendously, before searching for your boyfriend. And he's standing patiently off to the side, making sure he's not drawing any attention. As famous as you were, Harry is also a popular face. And he wants to make sure he's not affecting your moment in any way.

"Okay, me and you. Pictures," you say as you approach Harry. He immediately finds his hand around your waist, pulling you into his chest. And you can feel the flashes of cameras on your back.

"Yeah, I'm ready," he nods while fixing your hair that got messed up from the slight pick up of wind.

Your manager stands next to you guys, explaining the next few steps. But it's nothing new to you two.

"So then, after this, Y/N, you'll come back for pictures with Andrew, and then the whole cast, okay?" Your manager says. You nod in understanding, missing the slight pout casting on Harry's face. He ghosts his eyes from you to find Andrew in the same position you were just in; answering questions for different news channels.

But as your back is to everyone and you're solely facing Harry—the only person you want to look at—you don't see how Andrew turns sideways to motion the premiere set as he answers a question. His eyes absentmindedly move to you and Harry, and the warm smile he had on forms into a devilish grin for a split second. He looks directly at Harry, before shifting to the backside of you. And the examination he gives you in your thin dress has Harry sidestepping so only he is in Andrew's line of vision.

"Hey, you okay?" You ask while tapping Harry's chest. Your makeup crew finishes their touch-up your face and disperses, allowing your full attention to be on Harry and his shift of mood. But he simply smiles at you in reassurance.

"Yeah, of course. You're just making it really hard to not get a dent in my pants," he leans forward to whisper in your ear. Harry enjoys the laugh and swat to his shoulder that you give him. And he doesn't miss the glare he gets from Andrew.

Your manager holds onto your arm to get your attention. "Alright, the carpet is ready for you two. Good?" They ask. You puff out a breath and slip your hand into Harry's. He kisses your cheek gently.

"You look gorgeous, baby. I'm kinda upset all these people are going to have pictures of you on their cameras,” Harry makes a joke, simply to see that smile.

Your head tilts back to laugh, stretching the cleavage that tips over the neckline of your dress. When you look back at Harry, he's unabashedly staring at them. You swat him again.

"Pervert," you mutter while he snickers. "Come on, boyfriend. Let's look hot for the cameras, once again." Harry nods, staying right by your side. And the slight shift of Andrew's jaw ticks as he watches, already over doing interviews.

-

You and Harry look amazing—you're a worldwide loved couple. And it shows as he swiftly stands in front of you, blocking the cameras, when you have a slight wardrobe malfunction with your dress.

"Fuck," you panic under your breath. Your hands shake as they tug up the neckline. Harry holds your waist, trapping you between himself and the backsplash.

"I got you, baby. No one can see, you're so small under me," He teases. You look up at him and copy the suggestive smirk on his face. "I love when you're under me."

"I'm sure you do, pervert." He earns a flick to his forehead. The cameras do catch that, and they aww at the intimacy of their favorite celebrity couple.

You two do multiple rounds of pictures—alone and together—taking a few steps to the side to get to your next checkpoint. Harry is holding you by the waist, but you take the attention from him with your gorgeous dress and perfectly posed face. Your eyes are thin and seductive from your eyeliner, but your dress screams sweet and innocent. The cameras can’t get enough of you.

After your fifth round, you two finally make it to the end, but only for Harry. You still have to go back and take pictures with Andrew and the rest of your cast.

"Alright, I'll be around, baby," Harry says as he helps you fix your hair again. You nod and pucker your lips. "Don't mind if I do."

Flash!

"They just love us, huh?" You laugh with your tongue out.

Before Harry can response, your name is being called. You look over your shoulder and there awaits Andrew with a friendly wave. You light up, returning the gesture to the best friend you’ve made over the last few months.

"Okay, bye, baby," You send Harry off without looking back and playfully skipping over to Andrew. He lifts his eyes to Harry and waves. The façade Andrew is holding up in front of you is infuriating Harry, but as you look back to see if he responded to Andrew's gesture, he sighs and sucks it up with a wave back.

Even though there are many, many cast members, people are only interested in you and Andrew. The chemistry between you two is sterotypical and front cover worthy. But you don’t see it as that serious. It just feel as if you're hanging out with your best friend—nothing more than that.

Harry is watching with your manager, and he can't hide the frown on his face. He hates this. He hates jealously.

The way Andrew holds you securely as you both smile at the camera is boiling his insides. The way Andrew leans down to whisper in your ear, and the way the smile that breaks out on your face makes the camera flashes spark quicker is hurting Harry's heart. He wants to be the only one who can make you do that. But he stays calm because every time your eyes find him, the look of pure love you give him is enough to keep him at bay.

Then it's time for the group pictures of the cast, and Harry's shoulders can relax because you and Andrew aren't alone. But you are together. And Andrew makes sure of that. He squeezes his thin body around everyone to find a space next to you. But it looks natural for him to do because you two are the leads in the movie. Of course, you two should stand together.

"This dress looks marvelous on you, Y/N," Andrew compliments you once again as the whole cast stands together for more pictures. You bump hips with him and smile.

"Thanks, but I think you'd look much better in this than me," you joke. Andrew uses that as an excuse to stare longly at your dress—Harry watches annoyedly—before nodding.

"Oh, yeah, for sure, darling." Oh, the accent. You can't help but shyly look away, especially from the pet name.

Your co-star on your other side holds your hand and squeezes it for your attention. You look away from Andrew to focus on them, laughing at an inside joke that the paparazzi zoom in on to take a picture of.

You are the star point of the red carpet.

-

They finally allow you to break off as it’s now time to watch the movie. Andrew continues to hold onto your waist as you both walk side by side to your crew.

"Yeah, took me two hours to get my hair to stay this way," He says.

"Wait, so you didn’t just wake up and your hair simply looked this good? I thought you were Andrew Garfield or something," You tease, reaching up to softly pat his head.

"Ha ha, Y/N," he rolls his eyes. You giggle and shy away from his eye contact by staring straight. But that makes you look at your boyfriend with his hands deep in his dress pants. You could moan from how hot he looks. Especially with that unapproachable expression etched on his face.

You glance up at Andrew and pat his back, where your hand is resting. “You remember Harry, right?" You ask as you approach your melancholy boyfriend. The only reason he perks up is simply because of you being close to him.

Andrew nods with his lips smirking innocently at Harry. His arm stays around you as his other sticks his hand out. "Long time, no see, Harry," he laughs, and so do you.

Harry smiles thinnly and takes Andrew's hand. But his eyes are trained on the arm that’s around your waist. "Yes," he slurs.

"How are you feeling, baby?" You ask, releasing yourself from Andrew to step into Harry’s space. Your hands rub up his arms, before they lay on his chest and rise. You stop when you're caressing his jaw.

Harry basks in the affection, especially because it's in front of Andrew, and all he can do is watch.

"I'm good. Ready to watch the movie," he replies, pushing hair behind your ears. Andrew grows a smile at that.

"Me too. Can't wait for you to see Y/N in it. She did amazing," he revels you.

You roll you eyes and reach to swat Andrew’s chest. Harry tick his jaw in jealously—you usually only do that to him. "He's just talking about himself but doesn't want to admit it," you say to Harry with a laugh. He only does it back because of how beautiful you are. His hands hold your waist loosely.

"No, Harry, you'll see," Andrew pushes again, and solely winks at him.

You scoff and grab Harry's arm before stepping away in search for your manager. "I'll see you in the theater, And and Drew," You wave to depart.

He laughs heartily, much more than you expect. "I'll get us a popcorn to share," he says, which you gasp at.

"A large?"

"Of course," he answers with raised shoulders, as if it's obvious. You mouth a loud cheer. Andrew can't wipe the whipped smile off his face. He sighs softly, finally switching his attention to the grumpy man your holding by his thick arm. "See you later, Harry," he calls out as you drag your boyfriend away. Harry only seesaws his eyes on Andrew, before turning away to let you lead him.

Harry totally forgot that the cast sits together. And of course, you're going to be next to Andrew. Great.

When you find your manager, they break down how the theater part of the premiere is going to work. While you listen, you stand in front of Harry and back yourself into him. He quietly wraps his arms around your front and traces your stomach. Your hands land on his, letting them follow whatever trail he's making.

"I wish we were sitting together," you say with your head facing the side—for Harry to look at.

"I do too, baby," he sighs against your cheek, meaning it more than ever.

"But I do more," you pout, and he laughs, kissing at your jaw. You're hidden in a corner from the red carpet. No one is around but your manager and your crew as they decompress. "I want to talk to you during the film and tell you all the secrets and how I did my stunts and stuff."

"I'll hear about it later, yeah?" He tries to sound cheery, just for your sake, and you nod sadly. Harry’s hands go rogue, traveling to your breasts that are begging to either be pushed in or out of the neckline.

You stay quiet with your lips parted, looking down at your boyfriend's hands. He turns you two around so you're facing a wall—him blocking you from everyone's eyes.

He kisses at your jaw again, sneakily sucking for a quick second before you can react. "You look so fucking beautiful, baby," Harry says, making you blush and mumble a thank you. "Best person dressed today. You stood out so much in those group pictures." His hands softly grope your breasts, and you peep out the quietest moan.

"Yeah?" It sounds like a whimper.

"Mhmm. And I get to call that beautiful woman mine," he smirks against your ear. The dent in his pants has made a return as it pushes into your ass. "Am I wrong, baby?" You quickly shake your head.

"Again," You gasp, before biting your lip. Harry chuckles and squeezes at your breasts while pushing his hips into you. He traces a finger at the spot where he guesses your nipple is. And he isn't wrong. Your back arches off of him, making it a little obvious that something is going on in this corner.

So, Harry lets go and turns you around. "Soon, my perfect girl," He promises against your lips before capturing them in a passionate kiss. You are breathless when he pulls away and smirks down at you. He finds your throat to hold and quickly squeeze the sides of before dropping his hand just as fast.

He's trying to rile you up.

"Is this punishment for not being seated with you?" You ask in a giggle. Harry shrugs and holds you right beside your breasts. His nails scratch at your shoulder blades.

"If I'm going to have to suffer, so will you," His tone is evident. You pucker out your bottom lip in a pout, and Harry easily kisses it. "Have fun, my love.” With a solid wink, he steps back and turns away. He follows one of your crew members, who leads him inside the building.

You stand there and watch him, breathless and unsatisfied. And as if he knows, Harry looks over at you and grins, before he disappears.

"Ready, Y/N?" Your manager gets your attention. You adjust your dress and nod. "Good, let's go inside and find your seat."

-

You immediately earn loud applaud as you enter the theater. The room is pointing their attention to you as you wave, walking up the aisle to your seat. While doing so, you search for your boyfriend. One, to scowl at him, and two, because you want to be able to watch his reactions during certain scenes.

As you're trying to discreetly find him because everyone is still staring, Andrew waves at you. You give up looking for Harry, for now, and sit down by your friend.

His smile is wide as he motions to your seat. "For you, m'lady," he bows slightly.

"Thank you, Andrew," You laugh and fix your dress as you sit. "Excited?" You ask, before your teeth sink into your lip. Andrew watches while nodding.

"Very. My friends are here," he says, pointing up higher in the theater. A group of people notice you two staring and wave.

"Hi," You mouth.

"Where's Harry?" Andrew asks. You frown with a shrug.

"I have no idea. But I want to find him before the lights dim," You speak more to yourself.

Andrew nods in agreement. "Well, I made sure to get us that popcorn," He averts your attention, leaning down to grab something between his legs. It's a big bowl of popcorn. "Extra butter," he winks.

"You know me so well," You sarcastically sigh, resting your head on his shoulder—pretending to be swooned.

"I'll be honest, I was already going to get extra butter. I just wanted to see how you'd react. That solely was going to make or break our friendship." Your head throws back to laugh as you swat at his chest.

And Harry sees it all as he sits higher than you and on the other side of the theater. He has a perfect view of you and Andrew, especially when you guys lean over to talk.

This is going to be a long movie.

-

When you told Harry about the dynamic between your character and Andrew's, he was fine with it, at first. You're an actress—you act out mature scenes all the time. But as he sits and watches you ride Andrew's lap, your moans taking over the room, Harry can't help but feel a level of rage over everyone watching this.

"I hate you so much," Your character, Anna, growls but it comes out as a moan. She holds Andrew's character, Maddy—yes his name is Maddy—by his shoulder. The frame shows your collarbones and up, sometimes wandering lower where your breasts, that Harry groped earlier, show.

"It's mutual," Maddy snaps back, before his jaw drops agape. Anna starts to jump, her head facing up to display the thin layer of sweat on her neck. Harry runs his tongue along his teeth. "You've made my life hell,” Maddy mutters with his lips against her chin. Anna suddenly smirks, and the camera angle changes, showing a front shot of her face looking down at Maddy. She looks sexy and dominant. Harry has to shift in his chair as he stares mesmerized by you.

Anna leans down so she almost kisses Maddy. "If you don't make me come in the next minute, you'll be wishing you were in hell than the place I'll send you." Her voice is raspy and it's demanding. Harry's favorite side of you. The camera shows Maddy, and the emotions masking his face as he takes in her words.

Harry uses that second to dart his eyes to you and Andrew. He's leant over his chair to whisper to you. He points to the screen and whatever he says makes you nod. What are you guys taking about? What happened when you guys were filming this scene?

When Harry turns back to the movie, Maddy smirks widely and flips them to missionary, lifting Anna's legs to lean against his chest. "You know what? I need to fuck this absolutely irritating attitude out of you. That's the issue." Then it shows Anna on her back—you looking so fucking sexy to Harry—as she pops an eyebrow up.

"You can try, officer."

Harry has to cast his eyes down to ignore the jealousy of someone else taking you like that—even though it obviously didn't actually happen. But he listens to your voice as you bobble out stuttered moans. He possessively wants to imagine that your sounds are only for him.

When the scene is finished and Harry can look up, he glances at you and Andrew. But he almost flinches in his seat when he sees Andrew already looking back at him. He smiles softly, motioning his head to the screen. Harry fists his hand, planting them on his thigh. This fucking guy.

Andrew gives Harry only a second more of his attention, before turning away. He holds out the bowl for you, which you gladly steal some popcorn from. You're fixated on the scene, not even knowing about the exchange. Or that your boyfriend is literally fuming in his seat.

-

So, the movie had multiple sex scenes. Ha, who knew?

Harry pouts and sighs and groans and adjusts and looks away and peeks an eye and curses and shifts and bites his lip and groans again. He does a lot while stuck in his seat, watching you and Andrew, and your characters on screen, from afar.

The movie finally ends with Anna smirking smugly at Maddy with a knife in her hand. She twirls it recklessly as she hums. The audience watches, waiting to see what her next move is. But Anna simply mouths symbolic words to Maddy before there is a loud sound of sliced skin. The audience gasps in unison as the screen goes black for a while before turning back on for credits.

The room erupts into cheers, most of them pointed at you and Andrew, while the lights flick back on. Andrew smiles over at you and pulls you in for a side hug.

"Congrats on an excellent movie, Miss L/N," Andrew jokes under his breath.

"And same to you, Mr. Garfield," You nod. "Maybe one day we'll see each other again for another movie."

"Oh, you're not getting rid of me. You're my bestie now." You bellow out a laugh, but quickly cover it when you realize how loud that was. Andrew leans down in his seat to laugh like you guys just got caught talking in class.

You stand up from your seat and look around for Harry. This time, he makes sure to get your eyes on him. He waves coolly but enough to catch your stare. And his heart jumps when a big grin breaks out on your face.

You mouth, "What did you think?" The only opinion that matters in this room to you. Harry nods and blinks ten fingers before doing it again to show ten out of ten.

You do a little dance in your spot, making him laugh. He casts his eyes to Andrew, who's solely watching you and your dancing. He says something to you that makes you stop and roll your eyes.

Harry is quick to join the line of people exiting the theater. He finds your manager and stands with them, knowing you'll eventually be here after getting the praise you deserve for the movie.

Despite hating your co-star, Harry loved the movie and everyone in it. You did amazing. But Harry already expected that. You did your own stunts and executed them flawlessly. He can't wait to show how proud he is of you.

And how predatory he is. He already knows exactly what's going to happen when he gets you back in your hotel room.

You're slow to leave the theater because of the people stopping you every two seconds. They aren't even waiting until you're out the theater. You have a whole afterparty to mingle and get praised, but people want to do it now.

But thanks to Andrew and his charisma, he helps maneuver you away from the crowds politely and to your crew.

"Thanks, Andrew," You say, turning to hug him because you know this is where you part. "You're a great movie partner. Especially with sharing popcorn."

Andrew snorts against your neck. "Thanks, Y/N. It was an honor." He pulls back, his height showing off as he stands straight. "See you at the afterparty?"

You nod and shimmy a little. "You know it!" He smiles as you turn and saunter off.

Harry watches, leaning his shoulder against the wall as you approach your crew. You first hug your manager and accept their praise and kisses.

"That movie was amazing. You were amazing," they say as you both pull away. Your smile is shy and thankful, still not comfortable with compliments. "Think you still got something in you to survive the afterparty?" Their eyebrows raise.

You giggle and nod. "Definitely. I need something to drink."

"Alright, honey. I'll see you then, okay?" You nod and thank them.

Your manager steps away, allowing Harry to have you all to himself. Your eyes meet his, and your teeth sink into your lip as you contemplate leaping into his arms. He chuckles softly as you take wide steps to close your distance.

"Hi, baby," He says as you wrap your arms around his neck and instantly engulf him in a hard kiss. Harry sighs within it—all the tension that was building inside of him whisking away.

You speak against his lips. "I didn't see you during the movie. I'm sorry.” Harry puckers so he slightly kisses you.

"I was kinda far so it's alright. But I saw you," He answers, grabbing at you everywhere to make up for the time you were out of reach and in Andrew's. Speaking of him, as you have your back to the commotion of people, only Harry can see Andrew in the crowd. He talks to who he assumes is his manager, but his gaze is pointed to you and Harry. Well, specifically you. But his eyes do glance at Harry when he realizes he's staring back.

"Damn, that's no fair. I wanted to see you squirm at that scene," you giggle, tugging on Harry's neck to keep him close as he tries to look somewhere else.

After not seeing Harry throughout the movie and watching those scenes without him, you are needy. And horny. You press your front against Harry's, searching for the dent that still hasn't been taken care of.

Harry knows what his girlfriend is doing and lifts an eyebrow at you—no type of interest in Andrew anymore. Only in the woman who's looking up at him with the same seductive eyes as her character.

"Well, I can assure you, I was definitely squirming. The poor lady beside me was going to get an eyeful if she looked down at my lap," Harry says, swiftly swatting at your backside, close to your ass.

Your smile widens. "Really? You liked it?"

"Of course, I did, baby. I loved it."

You sigh in his arms and Harry frowns in confusion. "I wasn't sure if you were going to enjoy it because of Andrew, you know?" Your voice is soft. Harry takes a few steps back, leading you guys into the shadows.

"I mean, no boyfriend wants to see another man have his girlfriend like that, but it's the world of acting," Harry shrugs. "And I wasn't focused on him, I was completely transfixed by you." He watches your eyes grow with a slight shimmer.

"Okay, good," you sigh in relief, before hiding yourself in his neck as you hug him. "I love you."

"And I love you, beautiful," Harry replies, eyes on the crowd in front of him. No one is paying attention to the couple as they are all trying to find their ride home. Andrew even gave up when he saw how focused you were on Harry. He knew he wasn't going to get your attention at all. He'd just have to wait until the afterparty—patience.

Harry leans down to stuff his nose into your soft skin, sprits with honey and vanilla perfume. "Ready to head back to the hotel?" You nod, slowly pulling away. You look over your shoulder at the crowd. Harry finds your hand to hold and lifts it to his lips. "Good, come on."

-

In the car, Harry can't help but smirk at your neediness. It's his favorite thing about you. Your lips continue to grab his every few seconds, intoxicated by his taste. And the sound he makes when you try to pull away for a breath. His big hands are groping every spot they land on, and as the partition is up, you don't mind letting out your soft whines.

When you two arrive at your hotel, Harry helps you to the entrance as numerous flashes of cameras attack you. He tells you to cover your eyes while you fist his dress shirt. Now that the sky is dark, the flashes are more prominent, and they sting. You'll never be used to this.

You two make it inside, and the loud calls of your name ringing in your ears die down. "Are you okay, baby?" Harry asks you while walking to the elevator. His arms swarm your body, even though you're safe in the building. Your head continues to hide in his chest, now enjoying his warmth. "No one is around. It's just us."

"The best news I could ever hear," you smile sincerely, looking up at him. Harry chuckles and swiftly captures your lips to kiss.

"Me too, beautiful."

The ride is quiet to your floor. Harry moves you to stand in front of him as he leans against the elevator wall. His arms are around you, luxuriating the last moments of you in this thin dress. He finds your ear to whisper in.

"Are you gonna let me have you before the afterparty?" He asks, holding your jaw and turning it so you're looking at him from the side.

Your nude lips plump, before your teeth sink into them. Harry is quick to yank them out. And he watches as it jiggles.

"We won't be going to the afterparty if I do," You laugh.

"I promise you that we will," Harry says. "Just wanna love on my baby first."

You sigh and shake your head. "I don't trust myself. But we have all night afterwards." Harry tries to fight your decision, squeezing at your body and trailing his hot breath along your face. Of course, you're dripping wet in your panties and want nothing more than to take this man any way he wants, but you have to make an appearance at the afterparty.

Harry is pouting while you two walk to your hotel room. You continuously poke at his indented dimple and swing your joined hands with the other. "I can't believe people finally saw the movie. Do you think they liked it?" You ask, hoping to distract your boyfriend.

He nods sternly. "Of course, they did. It was really good, Y/N. I promise," He tells you. "And I'm not just saying that because I'm your boyfriend."

You smile shyly. "Okay, good," You speak softly. Harry chuckles, pinching your chin, before unlocking your room door. The cool breeze invites you in, and that alone makes you want to end the night early. "Unzip me?" Harry chuckles at your eagerness. He unzips your dress, watching the tension leave your body as you're not trapped in that tight material anymore.

"Better?" He asks, before kissing your shoulder blade. You nod lazily with a moan from your skin getting the circulation it needs.

Harry watches you brush pass him and fall back onto the bed. Your breasts finally spill out the top of your dress, but you don't care at this point. Your arms stretch over your head as you moan out a yawn.

"How much time we do have?" Harry asks, approaching you at the bed. He stands at the end, where your knees hang off. He leans down to grab the hem of your long dress and begin to roll it up.

"I don't know. I think the party starts right away, so, soon?" You respond, sitting on your elbows to watch him. The room is quiet while Harry bunches your dress up your legs. He gets it pass your knees so you can finally spread them, giving him space to stand between them. His eyes admire your perfect body, before they stare at the straps on your shoulders. You notice and slide them off—slowly to come off suggestive. A smirk curls on both of your lips.

"You sure we don't have time?" Harry utters.

You shake your head, now a shit-eating grin on your face. "Nope." Harry sighs and continues to push your dress up. He gets it over your stomach, and the sight makes him lean down to press a wet kiss there.

"Are we one hundred percent sure, baby?" Harry drops his voice while your dress is over your breasts that perfectly spill on your chest. "Just five minutes?"

"No," You laugh, pushing at Harry's head when he aims for your puckered nipple. "We'll never leave."

Harry groans dramatically. "Fine," He huffs, finally getting your dress off of you. He stands up straight, looking down at his favorite, naked sight. Your eyes are warm as they stare up at him.

The way your boyfriend has made you feel over the past year has grown your confidence. You aren't embarrassed or quick to cover yourself anymore when his eyes are on you. Now, you feel sexy as his gaze darkens, and you can only imagine the things going on in his head.

Harry sucks in a sharp breath, taking a step back. You sit up on the bed. "I'm gonna head downstairs to wait for you," he says in a clipped tone, trying to avoid his lingering stare on your body.

"Why?" You whine, standing up. Harry puffs out a sigh—his eyes wandering on the ethereal sight he gets to call his.

He holds your sides and squeezes. "Because I will do very bad fucking things to you, baby, if I stay any longer," He answers, seriously. His hips snap forward for you to feel the pain in his pants. You gasp, before laughing. "For your own safety, I'm gonna go. Just meet me downstairs when you're changed, okay?"

You playfully pout, doeing your eyes. Harry leans forward to nibble on your lip. The sound that comes out of your mouth forces him to step back and clear his throat. Especially because you're still naked and probably wet in your panties.

"Yeah, I definitely need to leave." You giggle. "This gentleman boyfriend thing I got going on is not gonna last long."

"Okay, I'm sorry. I'm done messing with you," you say, swiftly kissing him. "I'll be down soon. I'm just gonna change into my afterparty dress. My makeup is fine, right?"

Harry nods. "Perfect. You're perfect."

You shyly swat at his chest and turn away. Your hair doesn't hide the light shining down your back and ass as you swing your hips while walking away to the other room, where your new dress hangs.

Harry sighs and quickly steps out the hotel room. When he's on the other side, he presses his forehead against the door and groans. "Fuck, Y/N," he chuckles while shaking his head.

"What? You got kicked out?"

Harry jumps, thinking he was alone. His head whips in the direction of the voice, and his expression immediately drops when he realizes who it is.

Andrew fucking Garfield.

"Of course, you're on our floor," Harry scoffs under his breath.

"Yeah, next door actually," He shrugs. Andrew stands tall and smug with his hands hidden in his pants pocket. He stalks over, looking Harry up and down.

"And I'm meeting Y/N downstairs," Harry answers Andrew's earlier question, walking away to the elevator. Andrew takes wide strides to catch up to him. Both men are long and leggy, but Harry still beats him in height. It does make him feel better. Especially because you've made it known a lot that you love height on a man.

"How is Y/N? Is she tired after the premiere?" Andrew asks while Harry clicks the button for the elevator.

"A little, but she's set on going to this afterparty," Harry entertains the man, trying not to get agitated with him around. The last thing Harry wants is for you to think something is wrong with him. You'll easily find out just from one look. You know your boyfriend like the back of your hand.

"Oh, good. I can't wait to see her outfit," Andrew speaks his thoughts out loud. Harry grimaces, and luckily the elevator arrives to save him from responding how he really wants to.

The men step inside the elevator, and Andrew clicks for the lobby, before leaning against the opposite wall as Harry.

"She looked incredible today. Don't you agree?" Andrew asks the obvious, cocking his head to the side.

Harry nods, "Incredible isn't enough. Don't think there's a word to describe how amazing she looked." Andrew pauses, staring at Harry. He notices that Andrews gone quiet. "What?"

He shakes his head. "No. It's just... I agree."

Harry and Andrew are quiet for the rest of the ride down. Harry is very thankful for that. The less he has to speak to Andrew, the fucking better.

When the elevator dings, announcing that they've made it to the lobby, Andrew suddenly turns to Harry.

Harry's eyebrow cocks up as he stares back.

"Hope you don't mind if I steal your girlfriend for a while tonight." Before Harry can speak, Andrew is gone, taking a fast but smooth pace out the hotel. Harry growls, shifting his jaw annoyedly.

Yeah fucking right.

-

You arrive in the lobby, searching for Harry. You don't notice how his eyes immediately find you and widen at your dress. It's so... short. But you still look beautiful, and Harry knows eyes are going to be on you, all fucking night.

"Baby," Harry calls out for you while standing up. As you have the worst awareness, Harry has to wave as well because you still couldn't spot him.

But when you do, a wide smile spreads on your lips as you quicken your heeled steps to him. Harry chuckles as you fall into his chest, swiftly kissing his neck.

"How do I look?" You ask, spinning in his arms—his hands gripping at your body like he's in pain.

"My honest answer would give me a reserved spot in hell, so my respectful answer is gorgeous," Harry states, kissing your forehead. You laugh loudly, brushing your nose against his jaw. "Are you ready?"

"Mhmm," you nod, before sighing. "Let me just enjoy this, real quick. I have a feeling people are going to be stealing me away from you tonight." Harry's eye twitches from you using that specific word—the same as Andrew.

Harry holds you closer. "No one can take you away from me," He whispers. You nod in agreement.

"And vice versa," You look up at him. "If I catch one woman speaking to you, I'll be kicking ass at my own afterparty." Harry laughs, your words music to his ears. Another thing he enjoys the most about you is your jealously. It makes his feel tame.

"Come on, baby," He says, finding your waist to hold as he leads you out the hotel.

-

The afterparty is dark and beaming shades of red to replicate the aesthetic of yours and Andrew's character dynamic. You continue to gasp the further you and Harry walk in.

"This looks incredible," You exclaim, tugging on Harry's arm. The sound of mingling is loud, so you lean in for Harry's ear. "Doesn't it look incredible in here, baby?" Harry turns his head to you and nods.

"It does. You like it?" Your answer is formed through a kiss, before you continue to look around. Harry leads you two to the bar, ready to start your rounds of drinks to warm you up. As the left side of your waist is showing, Harry finds his hand resting there. One, to touch your cool, smooth skin. Two, to cover it.

He loves how you look and wants the world to see it too, but he can't help his predatory senses trying to cover you up. He's already having to deal with your legs being on display for everyone to gawk at. They're long and beaming against the neon lights before they meet your tight stilettos.

You walk shyly, already feeling eyes on you. Harry finds your ear. "This is going to be a long night for me. I hope you know that." Your nerves disappear as you focus on your boyfriend—his objective.

"Yeah?" You giggle. You two finally reach the bar and snag a seat. Harry decides to stand behind you, holding your waist loosely and resting his chin on your shoulder.

"You love to tease me, huh, baby?" He smiles against your ear. You shrink in your spot, smiling like a school-girl. The pet names get the best of you. Harry squeezes your thigh, before moving to stand beside you. "What do you want to drink? Champagne?"

You nod, leaning your elbow on the counter with your head facing Harry. Your eyes are too transfixed on how fucking handsome he is that you don't feel another presence on the other side of you until he speaks.

"Hey, favorite co-star." You almost jump from how close the voice is. Both yours and Harry's head turn to look over at Andrew.

You sit up straight and gasp. "Hey, you made it!" Your arms open for him to step into. Harry immediately places his hand on the small of your back, slowly crawling to stretch around you.

"You made it too," Andrew laughs. He glances at Harry with a short, challenging glare. "Hey, Harry." But doesn't give him the time to respond because he's focused back on you.

Harry rolls his eyes, now distracted by the bartender as he asks for drinks. You promptly turn to Harry, swiftly kissing his cheek, as he places your orders. "That's it?" He asks you. A nod is your response.

Andrew leans against the counter to speak to the bartender afterward. "I'll get what they're having too." You smirk at Andrew, getting two different reactions from both men.

"Oh, so you’re copying my drink order again. That didn't end after filming, huh?" You tease. Andrew shrugs, turning his body to face you but keeps his elbow on the counter. Harry wants to pull you into him as your body language shows interest in Andrew.

"Yeah, I still can never decide on a drink. It's just easier to copy you. We basically have the same taste," He says with an innocent smile but Harry sees right through it.

He clears his throat loudly, but when he realizes you didn't hear him, he then gently kisses your shoulder. You glance back at him, lifting an eyebrow. "What happened, baby?" You ask, reaching a hand back to search for him. He easily takes yours and intertwines your fingers with his.

"So, Harry, did you enjoy the movie?" Andrew asks Harry before he can get a word out to you. Your eyes light up at the question, and so does Harry's heart. The look you stare at him with makes his rival with Andrew a little more meaningless. He'll never get the eyes you give him.

"I did," Harry nods, tickling your chin. "You both did great." You smile widely, and Harry consumes the gesture inside him. It gives him instant butterflies—your smile.

"Thank you, H," Andrew interrupts your small, intimate moment. "Hey, no hard feelings about, you know, those scenes, right?” His smirk is knowing. You gasp at Andrew and swat at his chest—a little more force than usual. But he doesn’t mind. "Hey, what did I do?" He teases, shriveling his nose.

Harry's jaw ticks again. "Oh my god, Andrew. Shut up," You laugh. One of your arms are naked as the other is long sleeved from the design of your dress. The nude arm is on Andrew's side as you reach up to wrap it loosely around his shoulder. He hums as he gets to feel your lukewarm skin on his neck. "You're the worst. You know that?" You joke, locking your arm tightly.

"I'm your favorite co-star. Don't lie to the people," He replies, motioning to Harry. He enjoys every tick and growl and huff he receives from him.

You remove yourself from Andrew—too soon for his liking—and scoff. "That's a lie," You say, trying to avoid a smile. But Andrew gasps and squeezes at your arm.

"Leading me on, huh?"

You roll your eyes, before smiling at Harry. "He's a handful," You pretend to whisper but Andrew obviously hears it. Harry entertains your joke with a nod while you find your arms slithering around his neck. Your fingers play with his hair and tug on it to test him.

Harry grins, at both your PDA and Andrew awkwardly watching the exchange. Harry adores that you will love on him anywhere, anytime, no matter what.

"Here's your drinks," The bartender returns with three glasses of champagne. Harry starts to grab both of yours, but Andrew moves quicker and takes yours.

"Here, darling," He blurts while holding the drink out for you. Harry grumbles under his breath, fisting one of his hands. You stare at the drink before lifting an eyebrow at Andrew. That was weird. "What?" Andrew shrinks at your offended stare.

You let one arm fall from Harry to take the drink. "Thanks," you slowly speak. Your attention is back on Harry as he grabs his own. "Cheers?" His smile returns when your face approaches his to make this moment about solely the two of you.

"To you, baby," He says, intimately. Your blush is saved from being seen because of the shaded lights in the room. But Harry knows you too well. His thumb picks at your bottom lip. "No need to get all shy on me."

You push his hand away from your face. "I'm not shy," You scoff.

Momentarily forgetting Andrew is there, you jump when you feel him against your side. He has his drink lifted, waiting to clink with yours.

"Cheers to you, Y/N," He says.

You smile nicely and raise your drink. "Cheers to us," You correct him. Andrew chuckles and tips the rim of his glass with yours before downing the sparkling liquid. You swiftly turn back to your boyfriend and repeat the gesture. Harry's heart throbs for you at the simple move.

"Cheers," You whisper and sip at your drink. Andrew finds his hands on your shoulders to squeeze.

"I can't believe we did it. Today was amazing," He beams as you spin in your seat. Harry continues to jealousy drink with his elbow on the counter to clearly watch your exchange.

You nod in agreement. "I've been waiting for this day since we finished filming. Can't believe it happened." Andrew raises his eyebrows.

"I wonder what everyone thought."

"I don't," You laugh. "I rather not know." Harry takes that as his cue to butt in and kiss your cheek. Your lips instantly curl into a smile.

"Don't worry about everyone else. You did amazing, baby, that's all that matters," He tells you.

Andrew lifts his glass at that. "H is right." Harry wants to snap at him to quit it with the nickname. But as another presence approaches, he stops himself.

It's your manager, grinning ear-to-ear. You finally slide off the bar stool to properly hug them.

"Hey, superstar. How are you feeling?" They ask you. Both Harry and Andrew watch solely you and how you expressively answer the question. Smirks find their faces from the thoughts invading their minds.

Your manager holds your hand then looks at Andrew. "Everyone wants to speak to you two. I say stay together and kinda circle the room. Okay?" Harry groans out loud, not caring about your manager's scold.

You giggle and back yourself into your boyfriend. He still huffs while holding onto you protectively.

"I'll take good care of her, Harry," Andrew sounds assuring to you, but Harry can read him just by the look his face. You pat Andrew's chest for his attention, which he easily gives you.

"So, what you're saying is that you'll speak for me, and I don't have to talk to anyone," You joke, making everyone laugh. Harry squeezes your sides and presses a kiss to your shoulder. Your naked arm wraps behind him to land in his hair. The other brings your drink to your lips.

Andrew clears his throat. "That's exactly what I mean. Just need you to smile and wave." You cheer theatrically. Your manager claps their hands.

"Perfect. I'll guide you two around. Let's go." Andrew already moves to follow them, but you lag behind, waiting for him to step away. When he's gone, you turn around in Harry's arms. You two meet eyes and stare at each other, lovingly.

"Gonna miss me?" You ask, sipping at your drink.

"Don't know how I'm gonna manage," He sighs playfully. And his heart throbs again at the sound of your perfect laugh. "You owe me a dance, though."

"I'm saving all my good moves for you, Styles," You giggle. "Now kiss me, please." Harry doesn't hesitate to hold you in a passionate, champagne tasting kiss. Tongues are swiftly included, but you pull back before it continues.

"Am I allowed to find someone to hang out with while you get Garfield?" Harry asks, both of your foreheads touching. Your eyebrows furrow.

"You're asking if you can talk to anyone in this room besides me? Absolutely not." Your face is serious when you answer. Harry laughs and can't help his craving for your lips. "Go ahead and mingle, grumpy. I'll try to be as quick as possible," You say while caressing his cheek in your hand.

Harry nods as you step back. "Alright, you need to leave or I'm going to have no choice but to take you on this bar counter," He says. You glance over at the bar and pop up a suggestive eyebrow. Harry pokes at your breast to stop you from testing him.

"I'd be down, but I don't think that would be sanitary," You shrug.

"With the way you come, definitely not." You gasp, swatting at his shoulder.

"Goodbye, Styles." You spin on your heel and lift a hand to wave. Harry unabashedly watches your ass sway as you walk away from him. He sips on his drink, leaning back on the bar.

You catch up to Andrew and your manager—Harry keeping eyes on you. Andrew's eyebrows raise when you show up beside him, and his hand wraps around your waist. It looks polite and friendly to everyone surrounding them but Harry's hand squeezes around his glass at the action.

Just fucking wait until he gets you home.

-

You are tired and horny as Harry leads you out of the afterparty building and to the car. He doesn't give you time to give anyone a proper goodbye, especially Andrew, because he physically drags you away. He's a man on a mission.

"Why are you making me walk so fast, Harry? My feet hurt," You whine at the pounding throb in your heels. You notice the dimple indenting his cheek as he chuckles. You childishly pout, knowing he's laughing at you. "Meanie," You mutter.

When you two get outside, the cameras instantly hit you, forcing you to hide against Harry's chest. You feel the groan he lets out as he holds you. The one thing he hates more than your co-star are paparazzi. Especially when they swarm you like this. Harry has been a star since he was a teenager—he's used to this.

But he can feel his ears smoke with rage when you get attacked by paparazzi. There are guards surrounding the two of you to help. So, Harry becomes your eyes as he guides you blindly into your designated car.

You hear a door handle being pulled. "Get in, baby. I got you," Harry yells over the loud voices calling out to you. He helps you slide into your seat before he's following behind you. An arm still stay around you as he finds your chin to lift to him. "You okay, baby?" He asks, pecking the corner of your mouth. Your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the dimmed car. The tinted windows block the camera flashes that punch against the glass.

"Yeah," you more or so whine. Harry laughs and softly kisses your lips.

"Good, gotta make sure I always take care of my baby, huh?" He breaths into your mouth. He tastes like champagne and fruits—platters of them were being passed around. You moan within the kiss to ask for more. Harry will gladly give you anything you want. He moves his hands down to squeeze at your curves while sucking on your lips.

Something suddenly turns on inside of you that makes your body completely crave for your boyfriend. The car takes off and speeds down the populated road, hiding the moaning couple behind the wide windows. Harry grips your sides to assist you on his lap as you plead for him.

"Love being close to you," Harry groans when you sit on top of him and press your chest to his. Your slightly taller height makes his chin tilt up to stare at your floaty eyes. "What do you want, Y/N. Tell me." Your hands are around his throat—for balance as the car takes sharp turns, and to force out the vocals that escape him as you squeeze it.

"More," You puff out, before finding his lips again. They don't break away as you slowly start to grind yourself on the dent in his pants.

As your dress is short, Harry grabs the hem and lifts it so only your panties are in the way. You gasp at the new sensitivity.

"Go on," Harry says, groping your ass cheeks as you move on him. He slaps one cheek before digging his nubbed nails into them to claim what's already his. “Use me.” Your hand moves to his shoulder while the other grips the seat behind him.

Your moans are against his mouth as both of your jaws freeze agape. Harry's breath is hot as it brushes yours. He can feel you wetting his pants, but he keeps his hands tame on your ass instead of finding your cunt.

He's waiting until he gets you upstairs and next door to a certain someone before unleashing himself. He has hours of raging, predatory emotions that need to be thrusted inside of you. Whether it's in your mouth or cunt, Harry needs to have you. He's let some other man have you for far too long.

You reach between the two of you to hook a finger in your panties. Harry knows what you're trying to do, so he gently stops you. Your eyebrows furrow at him. "Why?" You choke out, still continuing to brush your clit against him. It shocks every nerve when he nudges you.

"Just... not yet. Wait til we get upstairs, okay?" He says, looking up at you. His eyes suddenly dilate at the sight. It's the same angle from that scene in your movie. But instead of getting the smug smirk of Anna—her hissing voice taunting Maddy, Harry looks up at begging eyes and pouted lips that push out a whine. He gets a you only he's privileged to see. It causes a drunk smile to form.

"What?" You question from his new look. He only shakes his head, before leaning forward to kiss you. "Why can't we? Please."

"Be patient."

As he says that, the car hits a pothole, causing you to accidentally push down against his cock. You gasp loudly, tightening your hand on his shoulder. Harry has to shut his eyes to calm himself down as he's one more thrust into taking you right in this car.

The rest of the drive home feels longer than to the afterparty. Maybe it's because of Harry trying to hold back from yanking himself out his pants. Or from the sight of you hovering over him, your temptress lips trailing his jaw and puffing out a fruit-scented breath.

You weren't making the car ride any easier for him. You don't know why he wants to wait, but you could care less. You discreetly rotate your hips, pretending like you're simply adjusting in your spot. But the tut Harry gives you makes it obvious that you're chasing for a release.

Harry has to physically lift you off his lap to stop you. The wet stain on his raised pants has him biting his lip. He can almost taste you on his tongue.

You whine at the disconnection and lean forward to kiss him, hoping to distract his hands. It works for a moment as they slide up your back. So, you swiftly drop back down on his lap, both of you moaning.

"Baby, just wait," Harry tells you, holding you up again. "I'll give you everything you want, okay?"

"I want it now," You complain like a child, pushing at his hands to release them from your sides. But his grip only tightens. Harry laughs at your weak slap to the back of his hand. You huff and decide to finally listen so you don't end up in a punishment.

"Good girl."

"Stop riling me up," you say and flick him. His nose shrivels to laugh.

"I'm sorry."

"But you're not," You snap, pinching his chin. Harry smiles widely at your perfect, frowned face.

"I am," He argues playfully. You sigh and rest your head on his shoulder, your body calming down.

"I miss when you had the hormonal tendencies of a caveman."

Harry slaps at your ass. "You mean when I had to carry you around because you couldn't walk."

You nod on his shoulder, before kissing it. "Princess treatment and good sex? I was spoiled. The good ol' days."

Harry smirks but you can't see it. "Oh, I can make it happen again. Just wait until we're upstairs."

You lift your head to look at him. His expression is smug and dangerous. Another shockwave pulses in your cunt.

"Yay me," You snicker.

As soon as the car pulls up to your hotel, paparazzi are waiting to give you a not-so warm welcome. Harry holds you like before and guides you inside. The rapid, cold flashes of the camera hits him instead, which he's fine with. He'll do anything to protect you.

The hotel doors close behind you two, and Harry walks further inside the lobby before letting you go. You sigh while stretching your muscles straight. Harry fixes your hair that he accidentally messed up.

"You okay?" He asks you with a gentle smile. You step into his space, finding an arm to round his neck. Your answer is a nod, and a long, loving stare that widens his lips. "Good, I love you." Harry gives you a short kiss that you hum into.

Goosebumps run up your naked arm that's around his neck. Harry turns his head to kiss a trail. You watch with your teeth sinking into your lip. You two don't even realize the public setting you're in as your only focus is each other.

Harry takes your arm from his neck to interlace your hand with his. He leads you the elevator and away from the windows of people.

"Now will you let me sit on your cock?" You beg in a broken whisper from how desperate your body suddenly becomes. Harry raises his eyebrows in amusement, looking down at you.

"What a dirty mouth you have, missy," He teases you. You roll your eyes, exaggeratedly. "Don't do that." He pinches your side.

"You're annoying," You groan.

Harry shrugs. "You love me," He smiles.

"Don't assume that. Especially when you rejected me in the car."

"I just told you to wait," He argues with a laugh. Your frown is so pretty. The way your plump lips cast downward, and your brows meet your soft eyes. You're trying to look mad but Harry only finds it cute.

"Yeah, and now I'm dripping and unsatisfied," you point a finger at him.

"I'll gladly take care of that," Harry snorts, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

As you two are walking, ignoring the rest of the guest in the lobby, you guys don't notice a figure jogging up to you.

"Good because—"

"Y/N! Harry! Wait up."

Harry immediately tenses up at that voice, and the dent in his pants dies down.

Fucking Andrew Garfield.

You turn and meet eyes with your co-star. A disappointed-hidden smile finds your lips as you wave at him.

"Hey, Andrew," You say, cheerfully. Harry's hand squeezes yours, and you look over your shoulder at him. His face is hard while staring at Andrew. "Nice dog," You tease and push your ass against him. That earns a raspy groan.

Andrew reaches you two and stuffs his hands in his pockets. "Hey, guys. I didn't see you leave. Thought you ran to the bathroom or something," He chuckles.

"Nah, I got tired and needed Harry to help me escape," You say. "Sorry about that."

Andrew swiftly waves you off. "No worries. I'm glad I found you, though." You playfully aww and pat his chest.

"Miss me that much?" You tease him. The honest words were behind his eyes that only Harry notices. He takes a step closer to your back, feeling your warmth against him.

Andrew only gives Harry a half glance before he's focusing on you. "Of course. Who else could I suffer a million praises with?"

"Yeah, that felt never ending, huh?" You shiver at the amount of mingling your manager put you through before Harry thankfully took you away.

"Felt? No, it was," Andrew raises his eyebrows, making you laugh. "But luckily, I was able to escape too. Unfortunately, I didn't have a Harry to help me." You chuckle and look over at your boyfriend. He only cracks a smile because now you're watching at him. His face was stone cold moments before, glaring at Andrew.

"Well, it was nice seeing you again," You attempt to end the conversation. Harry takes that as his cue to motion you to the elevators.

Andrew's long legs keeps him up to pace with you two. "My room is actually on your floor. Mind if I join the ride up?" He asks, but it's basically rhetorical as he follows.

You groan under your breath—Harry can tell and laughs. "Sure," you shrug, before turning to Harry. "Tired, baby?"

Tired is the complete opposite of what Harry is feeling, but he knows what you're trying to do. He nods and forces a yawn out. "Very," he sighs.

"Same. At least we'll be in bed soon," You respond and reach for the elevator button.

Andrew clears his throat. "It's been a long day, huh?" He asks, specifically you. Harry leans a shoulder against the wall and swings your interlaced hands. Absentmindedly, he brings the back of your hand to his lips. Andrew notices how you sigh lovingly from the gesture.

"Long isn't enough to explain today," You joke. "I'm going to sleep so well, as soon as I hit that bed."

Andrew chuckles. "Yeah, if you hear me snoring loudly, you know why," He says. "I'm next door to you." Your eyebrows raise.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah," He nods. "If Harry gets too annoying, you're always welcome over." The only reason you laugh is because it's expected.

Harry ticks his jaw, just like Andrew wants.

"I'm alright, I can handle this big grump," You say, pressing into your boyfriend.

Luckily, the elevator opens to kill off this conversation. You three step inside—you and Harry taking one side while Andrew leans on the other. He watches as you wrap an arm around Harry's waist and press your head into the crook of his neck. The gesture is intimate and gentle. Your eyes shut, knowing you're safe against your boyfriend.

Harry turns his attention to Andrew and smiles—it looks friendly, but Andrew knows it's anything but. Harry holds the back of your head, and you hum in approval. The soft piano music and the rhythmic ding of the elevator reaching another floor fills up the silence.

Andrew reaches for his tie, loosing it. "So, Harry, when's the next time you think you'll do a movie again?" He asks your boyfriend. Harry shrugs with his lips puckered.

"Not sure. Focusing on music for now," He answers. "But I enjoy just watching Y/N in movies." Your ears stay attentive to the conversation. Even though he can't see it, Harry knows you're smiling at his words.

"Well, I think next time you do, we should be in it together. Would be fun, don't you think?" Andrew says. You suddenly pop your eyes open with a loud gasp. Both men flinch from the sound, surprised, as they stare at you jolting up and clapping your hands.

"Imagine!" You exclaim. "You two in a movie together? The world would go crazy. I would go crazy."

Andrew perks up. "Really?" You nod wildly. "Hmm, maybe you should be in it with us."

"Pretty sure you'd steal all the attention," Harry says and squeezes at your side.

"Well, obviously," You playfully shrug. They both laugh at that. "But you two as partners in crime? Harry Styles and Andrew Garfield? I'd pay good money to watch that movie."

Andrew pops an eyebrow up "Just that good looking, huh?"

"Too good looking." Even though it was a harmless compliment, Andrew took it straight to the heart. He couldn't help the shy smile on his face.

You look up at Harry and hold his shoulders. "Then you can get back at me when all the women in the theater gawk over your character."

Harry rests his hands on your hips. "I don't need to get back at you. And I don't need women gawking at my character."

You roll your eyes and cross your arms. "Ugh, stop being such a fictional man. It's making me uncomfortable." Both Harry and Andrew laugh at your comment. As does the elevator with the sound of the doors sliding open. "Oh, that's us."

The men follow you out, both catching a quick glance at the backside of you. Your black dress hugging your curves, and your naked arm displaying your glowing, smooth skin as you stretch. Your legs powerfully walk down the hall—subconsciously swinging your hips. Harry easily finds his cock tightening against his pants once again.

"You're one lucky bastard," Andrew mutters for only Harry to hear as they trail behind you. A smile grows on Harry's lips.

"I am," He nods. "And you're soon going to be one unlucky bastard," He says, holding Andrew's shoulder for a short second.

He frowns at Harry. "What? Why?"

"You'll hear."

Andrew starts to ask again, but you appear, grabbing at Harry's open suit jacket. You smile kindly at Andrew, "Have a good night, Andy. I had fun!"

With that, you're yanking Harry into your room. But he's quick to wink at your co-star, before you're shutting the door behind you two.

Harry is suddenly being pushed against the same door with you dropping to your knees. You are swift to unbutton his pants and tug them and his boxers down in one go. Your mouth is physically watering from the sight of his cock. Harry lets out a much-needed sigh, finally being released from his tight pants.

"Someone's eager, I see," Harry chuckles over you.

"Whatever," You mutter, looking up at him. "Now are you gonna fuck my throat or what?" Harry's eyes widen in amusement, and his cock twitches from your words.

"Is that what you want, pretty girl?" He leans down and grasps your jaw. It's a hard grip, forcing a whine out of you. His thick thumb pushes pass your lips slowly. You hum and circle your tongue around it—mimicking familiar gestures to his cock.

Harry uses his other hand to fixate your hair into a ponytail. "I love when my girl is so desperate for me—hmm. Yeah, is that what you are?" You nod, sucking on his thumb to rile him up. It works because he hisses under his breath.

"I want to choke on you, H. So bad. Please," You whine, muffled. His thumb pushes down on your tongue, before pulling away and running along your bottom lip.

"Yeah, you were thinking about my cock down your little throat, baby?" Your body shivers from his tone.

"All day," You answer, digging your nails into his thighs to stop yourself from grabbing at his cock that hangs in front of your eyes. Harry hums, taking himself in his hand and pumping slowly. His abs clench, and his head rolls, showcasing the underside of his jaw.

As much as you want his cock inside of your throbbing cunt, you don't have time to wait for that. You need him in you somehow, even if it means coughing and gagging on his cock. Harry is anything but small, and you whine from the thought of him pushing against the walls of your mouth and throat.

Harry continues to pump himself while also dragging the tip of his cock along your lips. Your tongue swipes along the bottom, collecting the come that transferred.

You adjust on your knees, unable to stay still. Harry smirks widely at the sight of you squirming for him. It's all he could ever ask for. For you to only want him.

"Alright, baby, gonna let me choke you now?" Harry pushes down on your lip to separate them.

"Yes, please," You say, before sticking your tongue out without him even needing to ask you. His desperate girl.

Harry's hand tightens on your hair to get a good grip. You suck in a breath, preparing yourself as he leans his hips forward. As soon as his tip slides inside your mouth, you're a moaning mess. He's heavy and warm with a lingering taste of salt.

Harry curses under his breath as he watches himself disappear into you, slowly to laver the feeling of his cock being warmed up. The noises you let out vibrate around him. His legs instantly lock up from it.

Your eyes stay trained on Harry and his hard expression. He softly taps on your chin, silently asking you to open wider. You do your best to widen. The stretch to your throat as he pushes farther already causes you to gag.

Harry gasps, pausing his movements. You feel him tighten his grip on your hair. "Fuck me, Y/N," he groans, fluttering his eyes shut. "Already about to make me come." He whimpers. A sense of pride blossoms inside you.

Being praised is already a kink of yours, but it's grown since being with Harry. Having that assurance that you're making him feel good is always great to hear.

You have to shift again as your feel yourself dripping in your already filled panties. You let go of Harry's thighs momentarily to pull the hem of your dress over your ass. The whiff of cold air hitting your clit against your panties makes you moan. And that goes straight to Harry's cock.

He snaps his hips forward, pushing as far as he can. "Oh, god, baby. Fuck... fuck... yes," Harry mumbles. He brushes his thumb against your cheek. "Not even gonna give me a chance to fuck your mouth? So desperate for my come, aren't you?"

Your eyes are apologetic but also taunting. Harry smirks, slowly pulling his cock from you. You both watch him escape, slick with your saliva, and the drool connects from his tip to your mouth. His jaw falls agape at the sight.

"Okay, you ready for me?" He holds himself straight. You nod and open your mouth. "Just stay there and look pretty for me." You giggle and nod again.

Harry slips into your mouth. The wet noises and gurgling you let out fills the room. You try to relax your mouth, focusing on breathing before he starts his bullet pace.

Harry pulls back again, but not all the way. He pauses for a second that you flick your eyes up to him. The expression on his face is a dangerous smirk that widens to a devilish smile.

You don't have time to process what's happening as Harry suddenly snaps his hips forward—beginning a speedy pace. You gasp a moan, holding his thighs, tightly.

"Good fucking girl. Always—god—always taking me so well," Harry praises as he watches himself pump into your mouth. Your eyes suddenly swell with tears. You fight the gag that boils up every time he hits the back of your throat. But that doesn't last long as you choke on a deeper thrust.

Harry drags out a raspy moan, twitching inside of you. This isn't the first time you've taken him like this, but it always feels as if. You're always caught off guard by his size as it stretches your mouth sore. Him simply sliding slowly down your throat has you choking, so he usually needs to prepare you for his throat-fucking pace.

You whimper from the man hovering over you. His eyes are lidded and drunk-like as he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip. He traces his focus on your facial features with a lazy smile. He moans incoherent words under his breath, unable to form a sentence.

Harry's hips don't slow down, snapping forward to a high tempo beat. The noises of his cock hitting your throat so recklessly is his favorite sound. Partnered with your muffle whine for more.

"Fuck, Y/N. You don't even know you good you feel around me," Harry lets the words wander out his mouth without thought. "Taking me like no one else can. Claiming my cock, aren't you?" The question is rhetorical because with the grip he has on your hair, you aren't able to properly move your head to nod.

You feel Harry twitch again inside your mouth. And the way he chokes out a gasp, you can tell he's close. Drool dribbles down your chin, but the thick white coat of it reveals that it's accompanied by Harry's come.

"Milking me dry, baby. Can't save any for your cunt, huh? Gotta be greedy and take it all. God, I got such a fucking greedy girl." Harry tilts his head to the side, giving you a degrading look that you moan around his cock. He smiles slowly at your response. "Yeah, you won't even deny it. Fuck. M'gonna come and give you what you want. Think you deserve it?"

With his pace making it hard for you to keep up, you answer by squeezing at his clenching thighs as they assist his thrusts.

Harry suddenly yanks you out of his mouth. You immediately gasp for air—the sting in the back of your throat feels sore and raw. Harry covers his cock with his hand, pumping it just has fast as his previous pace.

You whine at the sight, subconsciously letting your mouth open. You're desperate for his taste on your tongue. It sticks out, signaling his aim to be in your mouth.

"You better fucking swallow it all, Y/N. If you're my good girl then you'll take all of me, right?" Harry leans down to kiss the tip of your nose. You nod and wiggle your tongue to taunt him. He smirks and quickens his pace on his cock.

Harry is suddenly groaning a noise from the back of his throat—it's gravelly and monotone. He knocks his head back for a second as his legs lock up. You shift your mouth slightly to line yourself with his cock, ready for him.

Ropes of come shoot out Harry's tip, mainly aiming in your mouth, while some lands on your chin and cheeks. Your tongue swipes all of it back in your mouth, though. Harry is able to loll his head down to watch weakly as you collect every drop of him.

"You're perfect, baby. So fucking good to me," He wavers, before pressing a hard kiss to your lips. You moan within it, grabbing at his neck to keep him close. Harry chuckles from your desperation. "I got you, baby."

You're lifted from the ground and in Harry's arms. Your dress rides up higher as your legs wrap around him.

"Gonna let me take care of you now? I can have you however I want?" Harry whispers against your lips. You giggle with a nod.

"However you want."

-

You are laid out on your bed, placed there by Harry. He stands at the edge, examining every inch of your body in silence. You wait cautiously, slightly squirming from his intense stare.

Your small dress was peeled off you, only the lace pieces of your undergarment hugging you. Harry, on the other hand, is completely naked. As soon as he got you undressed, his limp cock instantly grew again.

Harry finally reaches for you, circling your legs to hold the underside of your knees. The hot touch of his hands forces you to gasp, but you quickly roll your lips inwards to shush yourself. Harry smirks, loving how a simple touch to your skin triggers you.

"For hours—hours—I had to hold back from dropping in front of you and eating that fucking cunt in front of everyone." You whine from his words. "I wanted to kiss all up your body, bite your skin to make marks for everyone to see," Harry speaks softly, leaning down to meet your knee. His plush lips press light kisses that lead to your thighs. He drops to the ground and lets the underside of your knees rest on his shoulders.

His head continuously turns to give equal attention to each thigh. You shiver from the sensitivity, the more he moves to the inside. His eyes flick up to you as his tongue sticks out and swirls a pattern. You watch in a trance. His eyes are soft and filled with adoration for you.

You smile gently and reach for his hair to twirl your finger around. Harry finds himself sucking on your thighs. "I remember watching Andrew between your legs, just like this," Harry speaks against your skin. His teeth swiftly bite down, causing you to gasp. "He was kissing your soft thighs, getting a whiff of your dripping cunt."

You suddenly frown, sitting up on your elbows to get a better look at Harry. "What?" You say.

"Mhm, he kissed down your thigh like this—" He presses harder kisses to your thighs, moving his head closer to your center. "Your head threw back as his lips pressed to your covered cunt. He said you smelled so good, and you moaned just from that."

Your eyes look sad and confused when Harry glances up at you. "No," You whisper. "I was acting."

"And he hooked a finger around your panties—red because he told you it was his favorite color," Harry continues. The ones you're wearing are white—Harry's favorite set. And they can't hide the obvious wet spot. "You were being a good girl and lifted your ass to help him slide them off. Like you were so desperate to have him on you with no barrier." Harry cocks a brow up when you don't move.

Your expression is hurt as you stare at your boyfriend. "Why are you saying that?" Harry smiles and rests his cheek on the inside of your thigh.

"I'm going to do exactly what he did to you. But I want you screaming louder. I want you whimpering and whining because you can't take it anymore but you still greedily want more. I want you squirming from the pleasure, and trying to shut your legs closed. I don't want the memory of you wanting him, I only want to see you want me."

You pause dumbfounded. Harry acts as if he didn't just say that and juts his teeth out, reaching for your panties. He grips the lace right over your clit. Your eyes are still widened as you lift your hips to assist him. His dimples give away his smirk.

Harry holds your legs up while he peels your panties away. His height stretches when he rises up straight. He spits your panties off to the side, before leaning down to rest his hands next to your breasts. Your legs are bent with your feet plant weakly on the bed. With your cunt on display and Harry's eyes staring unabashedly at it, your legs wobble from the intensity surrounding the room.

"So, you remember what happened next?" Harry speaks up, hovering over your face. You do.

"Yes," you answer quietly. Harry smirks, closing the distance between your faces so his breath is grazing your skin.

"Tell me then, babygirl," He says.

You shake your head, sadly, "But I don't want to be them. I want to be us." Harry's eyes soften for a moment. He sees the way your eyes turn glossy. He can't help but capture your lips. You gladly accept the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Move back," Harry speaks before grabbing your lips again. You push up the bed, and he crawls over you. When you feel the pillows, you stop—your legs now able to stretch out straight.

Harry starts to lower himself, letting his weight top you. He stares down at your face cautiously. Your throat forces out a whine from the warm, heavy body of your boyfriend weighing on you. This is one of your favorite positions because you love to feel Harry press down on you. It makes you feel safe as you're surrounded by only him.

"I don't want to be Anna and Maddy either, baby," Harry starts to speak. "I want to be just us too."

"So, why are you—"

"He needs to know that it's not Anna and Maddy. It's only us. It'll always be us," Harry interrupts you with a pained look. You hold Harry's jaw, finding his eyes filled with unwanted thoughts.

You press a kiss to his nose. "Who? Who needs to know?" You ask. Harry only stares at you, and that's all you need to understand. A sinister smirk peeks on your lips. "Oh. I see."

Harry replicates your face, glad you're on the same page. "Now, baby, do you remember what happened next?"

You bite your lip, pretending to look deep in thought. Harry chuckles, quickly nibbling on your neck, before looking at you again.

"I think he lifted my legs to my chest," You say. Harry nods and moves from on top of you. He sits on his knees—not missing the opportunity to quickly flick at your nipple. You look up at his glistening chest, scattered with your favorite tattoos. His chest heaves as he picks up your legs and pushes at them.

"He made you hold them, huh?" Harry asks when your hands find the back of your thighs to press to your breasts. You nod at his question, and tilt your head at his disapproved tut. "I'd never make my baby do the work. All she has to do is lay there and take it."

Your hands are smacked away with a surprised gasp. Harry grabs your shins, keeping your bent legs against your chest. From the force, your ass slightly lifts off the bed, and now your cunt is in the perfect spot for him. He smiles down at it, impulsively licking his lips.

"I remember you trying to keep quiet," Harry speaks while lowering himself to a comfortable position. He grazes his lips over the skin beside your cunt. "But with me, Y/N, I want to hear everything."

You nod rapidly with a whine from his tone. It's demanding but pleading, as if he needs to hear you.

Harry rims your cunt with his warm tongue. He licks at the sticky juices that also ended up in your panties. Your neck strains as you try to watch, but you already feel your limbs growing weak.

In a quick move, Harry plunges his tongue inside your cunt, mimicking the curl of his finger to reach a specific spot. You let out a surprised scream, gasping and grasping at the sheets. Harry smiles against you, getting exactly what he needs.

He keeps you open and at his mercy as he attacks your cunt with his tongue. His thumb assists by flicking and circling your clit. He switches between being gentle to play with your sensitivity to suddenly pinching your clit and yanking a pained but pleasurable moan out of you.

His tongue swirls the letters of your name—a familiar motion. You let out a scattered hum, but the dark look Harry flicks up at you changes your previous reaction. "Fuck Harry!" You yelp, before digging your teeth into your lip. "Yes! Please." Harry's cock twitches under him from the growl lingering in your voice.

Cold rings start to knead your ass, causing you to flinch. Your body is on fire that his hands on you sound a sizzle. "Always taste so good, baby. Never can get enough of you." Harry's lips graze your cunt as he speaks before plunging his tongue back in you like a starved man.

Your head is digging back into the pillow—back arched at the perfect angle for Harry. "More! Please, more, Harry," You beg, wanting him deeper and faster while also pushing his head away because it's too much.

Harry will always be proud to admit the power you have over him. You have him wrapped around your little finger. Just from your plead, his cock is already thick and throbbing. He runts against the sheets for slight relief.

Your voice cracks as you release another extended moan. It rings around the room. Harry gets sloppy from the sound. He moves to suck on your clit, knowing how to push you over the edge. His fingers replace his tongue and pump in your cunt. He searches for a certain spot before curling them, and you gasp loudly from it.

"Let him know, Y/N," Harry dares you, pressing wet kisses around your clit. You take him up on that dare and yelp out his name, Harry's groan against your clit vibrates through your whole body.

"I'm gonna come, Harry. Fuck!" You cry, holding the back of his head. With Harry's fingers distracted by your cunt and playing with your ass, nothing keeps your legs open, so they instantly close around his head. Harry thinks to push them apart, but your scent is trapped in the inclosed space.

It's not so bad in there.

Harry quickens his flicking tongue on your clit and plunges another thick finger in your cunt. Your feet find the bed, and you're lifting off the bed, chasing Harry's mouth.

He laughs and kisses your clit. "I got you, baby." You feel your release creeping on you. And Harry knows it too because he focuses on your clit, nibbling on the sensitive nub.

"Harry!" You get out before you're coming. The noises you scream are pornographic, worst than the ones you practiced with your intimacy coordinator for the movie. Harry drags his warm tongue along your clit to guide you through it.

You're panting and mumbling curses under your breath. Harry finds your legs to push back down on the bed. He follows the trail of come on the inside of your thigh to lick up.

You flinch at his delicate touch. Your throat is completely dry as you breathe out harshly.

Harry is suddenly hovering over you with a smug smirk. You don't have the energy to comment on it as you catch your breath.

"Hi, baby," He chuckles, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth. You hum tiredly. "I'm gonna take your bra off, okay?" You nod slowly and arch your back to help him.

Harry slips the undergarment off of you and tosses it away. You're now completely naked and shining under the dim light in the room. Harry smiles down at you proudly, crawling down your body.

He finds a nipple to latch onto and sucks softly. You hold the back of his head, tangling your hand in his curls. He kneads your other breasts, before switching to give it a wet suck.

When Harry looks up as sees you coming back to him, he smiles softly. You tug on his hair, asking for his lips, which he gladly gives you.

For a while, you're stuck in a passionate, hot and sloppy, make-out session, bodies warm against each other. Harry's cock ruts against your cunt, causing you both to jump and gasp.

"I don't think he's heard us enough," You suddenly whisper in the air. Harry looks down at you, and a wide smirk forms on his lips.

"Yeah? You don't think so?"

You shake your head shyly. "I think we should keep going."

"Me too, baby," Harry chuckles, sitting up on his knees. "Now, if I'm remembering correctly, I think Maddy took Anna like this—" Harry is gentle with flipping you around til you're on your stomach. You turn your head so your cheek is in the pillow. "What a fucking sight." Harry moans softly and he doesn't waste another second kneading your ass.

He leans down to kiss both cheeks, sucking for a short second. To your surprise, you feel your cheeks being spread apart and Harry's hot tongue pressing against your hole. You try to clench closed, but his strength overpowers yours, so you just have to take it.

"Harry," You gasp. Harry chuckles against your cheeks, before stopping and rising. Your knees push into the bed for leverage. You lift up on your hands and arch your back—actually assisting him. Harry holds his cock with one hand, continuing to knead your ass with the other.

"Arch a little more, baby," Harry says softly, and you do as told. Your cunt lips spread, causing your boyfriend to groan and slip a finger inside you.

You don't expect it, so you squeeze around him in a flinch.

"You're so tight. Think you can take me this cock?" Harry smirks, and you look over your shoulder at him.

"Easily," You tease with a little wiggle to your ass. "It's all mine."

Harry sighs. "Yes, it is," he says more himself with a gentle smile. That's all he ever needs to hear. He pumps himself a little faster, hardening himself completely. He's thick and veiny as his tip nudges your entrance.

Harry has a tight lip smirk on his face as he thrusts inside you—faster than you expected. Your jaw drops agape as you let out a loud yelp, followed by, "Fuck, Harry!" He slaps at your ass for your language.

His fingers dig into your hips as he shifts them to match his pace. Skin smacking against each other loudly, but not reaching the level of your moans. You want to bit into your arm, thinking you're too loud, but Harry surprises you when his hand comes around to slap at your clit.

"Not loud enough," he scolds. "Guess I'm not fucking you good enough, huh?" He chuckles—it's dark that it makes you shiver. You shake your head, disagreeing with him. "No? Then why can't he hear you?"

You fall to your elbows as your arms grow limp. Harry lets go of one of your hips to grab at your hair and keep your head up. The sudden yank to your roots makes you yelp. "F-f-fu-fuck—" you slur out, "you're so—god—"

"I'm so what, babygirl?" Harry asks teasingly, planting a foot on the bed to change his thrusting angle. His cock is in heaven, stuck inside your warm, silky walls. The grumble that emits in his chest bursts to a raspy moan out his mouth.

You whine, reaching a hand back for him. Harry untangles his hand in your hair to let you grab at his arm. His thick, sweaty bicep clenches when you dig your nails into it.

"So deep," You say in a whisper, almost losing your voice. Harry's thrust gain a force that jolts you forward. The bed hits the wall continuously—creaking to the same beat as your moans. "My stomach—" you cry.

Harry curses under his breath, his cock twitching. "Fuck, baby. You feel me deep in your stomach?" You nod against the pillow. Tears rim in your eyes as he bullets into your cunt. The pain is pleasure.

Harry's palm pushes into your lower abdomen, and he feels his cock against his hand. He gasps, fingers curling into you. "Oh, FUCK!"

Your knees give out, dropping both of you on the bed. Harry's heavy weight and his cock still stuck in your stomach, causes you to whine.

"I'm so close," You cry out a whisper. "Don't stop, please, Harry." Your clit, now against the mattress, throbs from being stimulated. You follow Harry's movements and hump into the bed, playing with yourself. He realizes what you're doing and groans from it.

"Fucking into the bed, babygirl?" You nod slowly.

"It feels so good. You feel so—oh my god."

Harry continues to push his cock in you, slower than before because he's starting to feel weak himself.

With him close, his lips find your ear to kiss. "I'm gonna come so fucking hard in you, baby. Can't get enough of this cunt. It's so good—" Harry hums, before groaning at you squeezing around him.

His hands find the back of yours and curls his fingers around you, pushing both of your hands under the pillows. Your head is facing the side, crying under him.

"I want it so bad. Please, please, please—" You continue to beg for him, and Harry could come just from that. But he always makes sure you get there first. He loves when you clench so hard around him and warm his cock with your come.

Harry presses long kisses to your ear, allowing you to listen to his sweet groans. His hips push into your ass, short but bullet thrusts, knowing your body and how this gets you off faster.

He lets go of your hands to travel his under your body and to your breasts. They're pushed into the bed, so he digs for them. His big hands grope both, before flicking at your nipples.

"I love you so much, Y/N," Harry says to you. "Please give it to me. Come just for me, baby. Squeeze this fucking cunt around me. Yes! Just like that—" You're clenching so hard, feeling your release exploding inside you.

Harry continues a slow thrust while you're coming. He moves his lips to the corner of your mouth as you scream out his name. His weight pushing you into the bed squeezes the sounds out of you.

You're gasping and crying when you come down. "I can't—too much," You whisper from the sensitivity. You try to escape his cock as it knocks against your sweet spot.

"I know, babygirl. I know. Just take it, okay? Be good for me," Harry kisses every spot on your face. "Already being such a good girl. Just a little more. I know it's so much, huh?" You nod, whimpering again. "But you're doing so fucking good. I'm gonna give you all of my come, okay? I'm almost there."

You still whine and try to squeeze his cock out of you. Harry plays with your nipples to distract you.

"Pretty breasts, just fit so perfectly in my hands." He gasps at your walls tightening around his cock. "And this cunt. Just so fucking perfect. Don't wanna be in any other cunt but this one. This cunt is only for this cock. Right, baby?"

You sniffle and answer verbally. "Yes, just for you, H. I—please."

"Then let him know that. Ask for my come. Tell him you only want this cock fucking you like this." Harry gets on his knees but keeps his chest against your back to stay close. "Go on, beg for this come."

Your hands reach behind you to Harry's ass as they clench when he thrusts in you. You try to clear your throat as it's hoarse. "H, please come in me. I need your come so bad!" You yell over the bed banging against the wall. "Fuck! I love your cock, baby. Just this one. Please, fill me up. I want it!"

Harry groans with his lips against your cheek. With one final thrust, Harry is spurting thick ropes inside of you. You're clenching as tight as you can to milk him.

He's a moaning mess against you. He's breathing heavily, and you softly squeeze his ass to help him through his high.

"Make sure you take it all, baby," Harry says as he pushes his cock as deep as he can. "Mmm, never wanna leave. Gonna live in your cunt forever." You giggle, as he chuckles from the sound of you, before sighing.

Harry lays on top of you for a little while longer, whispering sweet nothings and attacking you with kisses, before he captures your lips.

You're sensitive and sore everywhere. Harry softly kneads your body to comfort you through it. He waits until your breathing goes back to normal to relax. Another kiss to your lips as a thank you for allowing him to take care of some much needed release.

"So," you start as Harry sits up on his knees and flips you on your back. He sets back on you, but holds some of his weight by leaning on his elbows. "Are you done being so possessive?" You cock up a playful brow.

Harry rolls his eyes. "Never." Then a wicked smile finds his lips. "Actually, I don't think I'm done."

"What?" You basically gasp when Harry moves down your body. Your legs clench, but Harry is quicker to grab them. "Har—" But you can't finish as you're moaning and arching off the bed once again.

Two more quick orgasms are pulsing out of your cunt as Harry tongues at your cunt and flicks at your sensitive clit. You have to physically push his face away and clench your legs together to stop him.

Your voice is completely gone by the time Harry helps you to the bathroom and gets you ready for bed. When you're both under the covers, Harry enters a sort of sub space, wanting to be held and comforted.

You both lay facing each other—Harry's head is against your breasts that he suckles on, looking up at you with sweet, doe eyes. Your fingers tangle in his hair, which he hums appreciatively at.

"Why were you so jealous today?" You ask him. He only shrugs, pushing further into your breasts, if that was even possible.

"I'm sorry," he answers instead.

"Don't be," You find his jaw to tilt his head up at you. You smile softly, before kissing each of his eyes. "I know it's not easy to share me. Or watch me act in a movie like that. But I would assume it's easy to remember that, at the end of the day, I'll always come back to you."

Harry suddenly feels ashamed that he even thought about you wanting Andrew over him.

"Hey," You get his attention. He starts to apologize, but you shut him up with a kiss. "I want you, Harry Styles. Yesterday, today, tomorrow, and every day after that."

The smile that forms on his face assures you that he understands. "And I want you, Y/N L/N. Yesterday, today, tomorrow, and every day after that."

You suddenly frown. "Uh, you fucking better or I'll be beating some bitch's ass for making you think otherwise."

Harry laughs loudly. His nose shrivels from how hard he does. "And I thought my jealously was bad."

"I deal with woman wanting you every single day, just because you exist. My jealousy is ten times worse than yours." Harry sighs, looking at you longly.

"I guess I should be comforting you every day."

You shake your head. "You do without even noticing. I know you love me."

"More than you will ever know, baby."

You two share a long, silent stare, filled with love that can't translate into words. So, instead, it turns into a kiss that sends you both to sleep.

-

You're still knocked out when Harry wakes up with a glow to him. He's all smile as he stretches and yawns. He looks over at you, now the little spoon—somehow turning into that position when you both slept.

Harry slips away from you, not without kissing up your neck and jaw. You hum in your sleep with a lazy smile. Harry chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth, before getting out of bed.

He quickly throws on appropriate lounge clothes to leave the room with. He heads downstairs to the breakfast buffet, hoping to find something you'll enjoy. Sometimes you are picky when it comes to breakfast.

When arriving, he sees minimal people there. He walks inside and grabs two plates.

He hums in thought, deciding what to put on your plate. While doing so, he notices another person also scooping up food from the trays.

Andrew Garfield.

But after your conversation last night, Harry doesn't feel that boiling pit of anger in his stomach when he looks at him. He simply shrugs him off and starts making your plate.

Andrew feels another presence and looks over at Harry. The men meet eyes—but the usual tension isn't there.

Andrew suddenly frowns, whipping his head away and continuing to fixate his plate.

"You heard?" Harry speaks up.

Andrew frowns and nods once. “Yeah, I heard.”

Harry smirks, turning away to work on your breakfast. “Good," he says more to himself.

-

well.

[bbkoolkatz]

HiHiHi sweets! Wondering if you’ve finished the Mina req? DONT RUSH 😭 I don’t mind waiting but with all the yummy fics you’ve been dropping lately maybe you forgot it hehe

also I just re binged all your fics and I don’t think I worship u enough ughughguhgugh we should like totally kiss

-💫

you're right, we should, like absolutely my sugar plum star princess!!! I defo didn't forget!!! ;) chu~ hope ya enjoy! (Katsuki makes an appearance because I luh him lots, it's also x fem! reader!)

"y'know, as much as i love this dress on you babe..." she leaned in, glossed pink lips barely brushing against your ear, "you're attracting a lot of attention right now." a breathy preen that sent a flutter of butterflies to your stomach.

"what do you mean?" you blinked, a little confused, with a flushed smile on your face.

"aw, don't play innocent," she nudged you, "haven't you notice the way half the club can't take their eyes off you?" she slid her hands down your back to rest comfortably on your hips, which she used as handles to pull you closer.

"i'm here to dance Mina," you giggled, "and i'm here with you, why would I care about anything else?" throwing your arms around her neck.

she looked straight into your eyes for a brief second, "they sure are here to look tho, so let's give 'em something to watch." pulling you in for the hungriest kiss of the night, biting and tugging on your bottom lip, "i'll make sure no one gets any funny ideas," another quick peck, "okay?" she beamed, smiling proudly at your reddened face.

"y-yeah—okay!" you grinned, giddy at the taste of her lip gloss on your lips.

"i'm gonna go grab another drink, want one?" her hands finally leave your hips to hold yours.

you nodded, "i'll have the-uh, same as before," squeezing her hand before she left to go get them. the crowd on the dancefloor seemed to grow as soon as she walked off it. or maybe you just weren't paying attention to them before... either way, your tipsy ass was letting the music move your body, feeling the reverberation of the bass at the ball of your feet as you swayed what your mama gave ya, completely loosing yourself in dance.

a warm hand on to your waist, brought you out of your dancing trance and without really thinking it over you leaned back into the warmth. when the soft cushion of boobs didn't immediately greet your back, you ran your fingers across a large pair of hands, feeling it heat up against you the higher your fingers trailed. they're bigger... hairy... and not as soft and smooth as your girlfriend's...

you spun around, to see who the hell had the audacity to— oh... red, narrow eyes, looked down at you, a slight frown hovering above them in his brows, and the second cutest pout you've ever seen was splayed on his thin lips.

"why'd ya' stop?" he rasped, flushed cheeks growing a shade darker, "y' look real pretty -hic- dancing." oh he was drunk drunk... you shrugged your shoulders and continued dancing, whilst he kept a hot hold, onto your waist.

"woah- careful there Bakugo..." Mina hissed, prying his hands off you, "that's my girlfriend..." rubbing your back, as she held you to her side.

"it's okay babe," you babbled, "he wasn't being a meanie, we're just dancing!" patting her chest as you bounced to the music again. she shot him a sharp glare, before handing you your drink.

"watch where you put your hands," she smacked his arm, watching his fingers twitch to be on you again.

"she don' seem to mind where I put 'em," he shrugged, smirking as he curved his palms, in his now favorite spot for his hands to rest as you twirled in front of him.

mina had always been playful, always flirty, never intimidated by anyone who comes around her girlfriend, but something had glazed over her eyes—something possessive, protective? you felt it in the way she pulled you back into her, pressing her body against yours as you moved together to the music, and she teasingly mouthed at him 'MINE', flipping him off with her decorated fingers.

mlist!

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

How about 15 from your 3000k with either Arthur Curry or Billy Hargrove? 🙃

Small Town Summer Days

Billy Hargrove x plus size reader

Summer brings hot weather, which means days lounging by the pool, tiny swimsuits and sundresses

Warnings: Billy is hornee lol, vague mentions of bullying and fatphobia, mutual pining, sexual tension, implied smut

WC: 995

Minors DNI

3000 Follower Celebration

Billy knows that he should look away from her, that it was dangerous to stare at her. Because if he stared for too long, she’d notice. And if she noticed then she would smile. And if she smiled, Billy doubted he would ever be able to dig himself out of this hole he found himself in.

But to look away meant that he wouldn’t be able to see her anymore. He wouldn’t be able to watch as she leaned back into the pool chair, her overly curvy body on display behind a criminally tiny bikini as she read that dumb book Nancy had given her. And if he couldn’t witness that site anymore, then what was even the point of being a lifeguard at this shitty small town pool. 

She was the sweet girl in his grade, the quiet one who had instantly caught his attention when he strutted into math on his first day. She was bigger than the other girls who threw themselves at him, sure, but he did always enjoy women with a bit more meat on their bones, he knew they could handle him real well. And she was shy, so very shy. She got flustered when he said her name. By the time December had rolled around, Billy was already playing around with the idea of how his last name would sound after her first.

That’s how he justified not sleeping with her, she was just too damn innocent and he was too damn deep already. No matter how badly he wanted to corrupt her, he didn’t want to break his own heart when she would inevitably figure out what a bastard he was. But she was making it very difficult for him.

She showed up every day about an hour into his shift, a small tote bag on her shoulder, a floppy hat on her head, and the shortest, sluttiest sundresses he had ever seen covering her large body. The hem always landed in just a way that he could see the seam of where her plump ass met her thighs whenever she bent over. It was a far cry from her normal school wear (which he also found very attractive) and Billy couldn’t help but be thankful for the blistering heat.

Her routine was always the same: claim her chair (usually the one directly across from the life-guard tower), lay out her towel, slip whatever dress she was wearing over her head and carefully store it in her bag, lather up her perfect skin with sunscreen, and then settle down to read for a few hours. Occasionally, she would slip into the chlorinated water with a graceful dive and emerge on the shallow end like a Bond girl stepping from the surf in one of those spy movies. He loved those days, they were his absolute favourite.

His other favourite days happened to be whenever she would wear her purple swimsuit. Somehow it made her skin glow in the Indiana sun. Plus it helped that it was her tiniest swimsuit and it showed off everything.

His blue eyes were so firmly fixed on the way the lilac bikini top stretched over the soft fat of her tits that he didn’t notice the fact that her book was now forgotten beside her and her heart-shaped sunglasses rested at the tip of her nose. But he did see how her nipples pebbled under the thin fabric and goosebumps exploded all over her skin like a cold wind had washed over her. 

“Fuck me.” He groaned under his breath, his already small swim shorts getting even smaller. 

Billy’s firm gaze was not unfamiliar to her, in fact, he had been glaring her way since the first time he waltzed into Hawkins High. He, like everyone else, seemed to find her infinitely fascinating in the worst way. But unlike the others who had tormented her throughout her school years, she found herself looking forward to his scrutinising looks. 

He was handsome, far more attractive than the boys she had grown up with, but he also had a confidence that drew her in like a moth to a flame. Like every other teenage girl in Hawkins, she fell quickly and she fell hard but unlike her peers, she knew that Billy wouldn’t even consider her as a hook-up.

So his tanned muscular body and perfectly messy blond hair remained firmly in her fantasies, fuelled by her daily visits to his work-place. She dreamed about him strutting over to her chair, his deep voice, tinged with a slight surfer dude accent, crooning to her. He would invite her to the private lifeguard locker room to “cool down” or offer her a ride home in his Camaro which he would pull over to the side of a dirt road and then pull her into his strong lap. When the images flashing behind her eyelids got too steamy, she would force herself to take a quick dip. Ignoring the intense glare from the King of Hawkins as she would emerge from the cold water.

And now, she felt like her whole body was on fire. Billy was watching her again, absentmindedly biting on the end of his sunglasses as he did so. Wetness pooled at the apex of her thick thighs and she squirmed, her nipples tightening with arousal. 

Even from across the pool, she saw the way his eyes darkened with lust. His plump lips curled into a smirk as he finally met her gaze. He kept eye-contact while he stepped off of the raised chair and began to saunter over. Her chest heaved with desire which grew stronger with each step he took. By the time he reached her chair, she felt like the air had been ripped from her lungs.

He gave her a slow once over, letting his blue eyes trail over every single piece of exposed skin. And then grinned wickedly.

“So princess, how bout I give you a ride home.” 

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Burn in my Skin

I call this primordial filth.

Honestly idk what this is lol. I was in my feelings and horny for Oathbreaker Knight. No more Dark Souls ambiance for me.

Inspired by a NSFW audio you can listen to here. The audio is NOT about Oathbreaker Knight, just gave me this brainrot. 

Pairing: Oathbreaker Knight x F!Tav

Words: 5.5k

18+ MDNI: shameless smut, dom!oathbreaker/sub!tav, consensual possession, sex via possession, religious imagery, light allusion to war and violence.

*Mind the tags! While this isn't dark enough to be dead dove, this fic involves dark themes.

Full fic under the cut, or you can read it on ao3 here.

Summary: Tav knows the Oathbreaker Knight has been watching her. Tonight, she will find out exactly why.

It started as a mistake. Some complication, perhaps driven by the influence of the tadpole, that summoned the Oathbreaker for Nightwarden Minthara. Unbeknownst to him that she’d been killed at the Grove raid along with the rest of the goblin’s leaders. Tav wondered how such a miscommunication could occur with rulings beyond the physical realm, causing her to lament the true, dangerous power of illithid tadpoles in the hours after the knight departed. There was nothing Tav or any of her companions could do, taking the issue in stride just as they had with everything else. 

This couldn’t be let go, as Tav noticed stirrings in the dark of night two days after the Oathbreaker visited. Brought together by a glow of burning orange, so faint it could only be noticed by one seeking it out. Or one right next to it. 

Fiery light flickered across the canvas of her tent, nights upon nights of the aura’s presence. Tav began to wait up, anticipate the faded torchlight greeting her like a ghost in the corner of a dusty room. Whatever possessed such a glow grew more confident with each, passing evening. Closer, nearer, approaching until a figure could be pieced together through the fabric. Large, ornate armour cut in the intricate carve of an undead warrior. Enflamed iron emanating from his broad silhouette, so still and rigid, Tav wondered if she wasn’t dreaming of a fragmented picture. Nothing more than a memory stuck in time. 

No. He was there. Blurred against the blackened midnight and the thick tent. Tav stayed in her bedroll, lying flat as she watched him outstretch a plated hand, shadows stretching across the sky of illuminated cloth, shading the weak, wooden bearings that held her shelter up. He didn’t touch, just reached toward a pursuance unmet. Her heart froze in her chest, filled to the brim with suspense, unable to beat. Sweat lined her palms, covered by the thin quilt that masked her body from the walled off eye of the Oathbreaker. Had he been watching her this whole time? Did the heat of his immortal fires burn hot enough to radiate into her, or was she simply boiling with uncertainty, roused by confusion and desire. 

Tav became paralyzed, awaiting the next step with baited breath—if there would be one. Would he just sit there like he had for several days? The creeping closer, each night representing a new step towards his curiosity, had to have an end. He had a choice, between remaining walled off, sheltered under the safety of a dividing line where he could not falter. Or, step across the precipice, collapse into the temptation of a mortal sensation he had not felt in lifetimes. Minutes passed, Tav staring at him, wondering if he knew she was awake. In those moments, her stomach burned with a yearning to know. To hear him speak in that gravelly, brimstone voice what he wanted with her. But, she also craved to stay the same, to not break the attractive immersion of being observed. Watched. 

Did he have the power to see through the tent? Even if she couldn’t?

Dark lust began to tickle between her bare legs, peering out from the quilt, bending upward as the fabric fell to her core. Tav stretched her arms above her head, forcing the exhaustion from her body, replacing it with sensual awareness of her own skin. Maybe she should’ve been offended, terrified of his presence scanning her in the dead of night, when the others were too asleep to notice. Afraid of the reality that he could do whatever he wanted, in a tunnel fit for only them. Fear did exist, breathless tension of being at the mercy of someone else, but she embraced it. Enjoyed it. Remembering the strong curvature of preternatural shoulders wrapped in rusted, bloodstained armour. Perilous sword held between gloved hands, ones that commanded competency, obedience, attention. And, of course, the voice. How could a man so faceless become so addicting to look at? 

For the first time in what felt like an hour, Tav released a heavy, wanton breath. Nearly a moan with the whistle of her voice floating along the wave of humid oxygen. If he could see her, she would put on a show for him. Implicitly decipher what exactly it was that he wanted. No paladins needed oath renewing, he had no reason to be present, and yet he was committed to standing by her tent from the moment the moon rose.

Tav pushed the quilt to the side, leaving her slightly cold as her blush pink nightdress did little to warm her. Her legs brushed against each other, motioning across the bedroll in a seductive exploration of limbs. The most intimate parts of her remained hidden, knees locked together in a salacious bend, her torso still flat on the ground. She didn’t wish to move, but she did find her voice. 

“Can you see me from out there, Oathbreaker ?” She asked, letting her voice trail at the end in a lusty sigh. 

Several seconds passed, hesitation becoming a palpable tension between Tav and the shadow behind her tent. So much push and pull, these mortal games were. Constant side stepping around the unsaid fantasy.  There was a frustration to it, but so too was it irresistible. A mockery of the idea that an undead heart could still stir. That the impossibility of his form made room for yearning the physical. For the knight, he’d considered such sentiments a relic of the past, until he saw the fearless, little adventurer, eyes never leaving him even when he’d instilled fear in the rest. And now, she spoke to him, invited him in for the ‘more’ he’d wanted for days. The very force that kept him returning to her pointless, paladin-free camp. 

“I see what I wish to see,” he finally said, each word like an ironclad chain to her wrists. 

“Has watching me from afar been enough?” She asked. 

“Soul and form were vanquished from me long ago. If they were still intact right now, they would be in pitiful agony,” he replied. 

Tav’s eyes followed the glowing form, armour gently clanging with the friction of plate-to-plate. Not too loud, he handled the weight well, as if the steel upon him was forged into his body. Light floated across the fabric, ending in a metallic hand pulling back the tent flap, slowly peeling the entrance to the side. So, painfully, slow. Tav bit her bottom lip, muscles twitching with a newfound impatience. She lifted her body, sitting cross-legged, unable to sit still. Breath hitching with each step he took into her quarters. 

He towered over her, standing in front of the bedroll. Tall, mighty and domineering, the jagged helmet lowered, as if to face Tav from where she sat. Amber flame warmed the vicinity, dancing in the air between stoic and passionate. Two halves, staring at each other, burdened by a polarising force drawing them back and forth, never quite reaching. Fascination embroiled her mind, eyes glazed above, observing the ominous beauty of the Oathbreaker. Something about him was unsettling, deeply threatening to the point of innate fear. An uncanny product of being not-quite-human, but rather the remnant of a man once living. Once committing sin, drawing eager breath in the decision to either rend or caress flesh. 

Tav was nearly a supplicant, moving to her knees but keeping her head raised toward him. “You are war incarnate. Aren’t you?” 

“Do not get up,” he demanded, sinking into her question but disregarding an answer as he revelled in her obedience. Any movement to stand ceased at the husky sound of his voice. 

He had total command, and the unscratchable itch within him grew in voracity. Watching, talking, even tasting and touching would not suffice. As doe-eyed desire pooled from her, ethereal face beckoning him closer, he knew what he wanted. To consume her very being, have her reach the absolute zenith of pleasure-pain, past the mortal threshold. For that, she needed to lend him her soul—just for the night. He’d return it to her…maybe. 

Tav’s breath shook, giving away her vulnerability with the snap of a finger. She said, “What do you want of me, exactly?” 

“It is not what I want of you, but what you want of me,” he said, stalwart in place as if no being existed within the armour. 

He continued, “Ages have come and gone since I’ve had a proper body. Left only with the purpose of guiding oath broken paladins to redemption…or retribution. One, single task given for an eternity as recompense for the deeds I committed in life. Until you peered from the water’s edge of your camp, unafraid of my terror. You watched me, and you could not see it, but I watched you. Abandoned everything to keep watching. Such a debauched distraction, having what I lacked even in mortality. Little temptress, with your supple flesh, beautiful skin, walking like an angel leading me to paradise. Do you like what I’m saying to you?” 

Excitement bubbled between her legs, leaning on her palms as she let her knees spread a little further. A ghostliness permeated his voice, guiding her into a strange, addictive arousal. Dancing on the precipice of unpredictability, unaware of what he wanted to do and how he intended to do it. Rushes of heat, both from his aura and the titillation of is intimate words, infected her veins, burning the underside of her skin. She wished he’d speak to her all night, whisper sinful musings unthinkable to a mortal mind. 

One of her straps fell down her shoulder, bearing more untouched flesh like a blooming flower petal after a storm. A tightening feeling within him, familiar but distant, a fragmented memory of having a body. None such as wondrous as hers, though, even in the long gone prime of his soldierly youth. No bludgeoning hurricane, no lust-laden priestess, no charge to bloody battle ever compared to her. He wanted her confirmation, and then, he wanted her primal nakedness. 

“Yes, please, I like it. Give me even more,” she replied. 

Oathbreaker took two, small steps closer. Enough to bring his armoured hand to her face, cold metal dragging along her skin from jaw to chin, stopping to lift her head even higher to see him. Sharp edges threatened to cut with each stride, sending shivers down her straightened spine. Tav bore down on her knees even more, torso sinking forward as she let the neckline of her dress fell haphazard around her chest. Breathing heavy with desire, the mounds of her breasts tried to escape the confines of fabric, hardening nipples tickling against the cloth. He could see them poking out, rising with the touch of his armoured glove along silken, bare skin. 

“What I have for you goes beyond the simplicity of skin on skin. I do not have a body to match yours, no heartbeat to fall asleep to. Let me take you elsewhere, meld my essence into your flesh. Bring you to the brink of agony and ecstasy. I promise, with every ounce of existence that clings to my broken form, to give you rapture so divine a cock could never compare,” he said, keeping her chin up with his index finger, “Will you give yourself to me, little temptress?” 

Each time he ended a sentence, his voice couldn’t contain that guttural crescendo. Breeding feral lust within her with every tongue clicking consonant. She couldn’t quite tell what he meant by ‘melding essence’, but for the first time since the nautiloid, she didn’t question a thing. Wanting only to see the extent of his capabilities, reach the edge of unreal pleasure. Delving deep into the arcane subconscious of his primordial nature. 

Taking a chance to bring him into the mortal plane one, last time, Tav slid her tongue against the cool surface of his gloved hand. Tasting the forged metal like blood from a sliced lip. The knight wasn’t the type to play games, however, grasping her jaw tighter, jerking her slightly forward. Near enough to his waist to face his codpiece, imagining a thick, throbbing cock aching to be sucked. Not tonight, though, she’d have something more than that. 

“Answer me, sweet girl. I’ve razed entire towns to the ash for a less desired word. Tell me,” he ordered, growling at her in his already gruff voice. Music to Tav’s ears, feeling herself wetter than she ever imagined herself capable. 

“Yes! Yes, I’ll give myself to you. Tell me what to do, I want to know what you feel like inside me,” she said, words soaked in decadent arousal.  

A raspy, subtly maniacal laugh escaped him, a sound that Tav didn’t expect him to ever make. As if she signed her soul over to him. Maybe she did. At his beck and call forever more once she’d agreed, no turning back now. In far too deep to say no, and never wanting to. If he were to become the harbinger of every sensation from torture to euphoria, so be it. Oathbreaker made her spellbound, her fixation over him so quick and obsessive that she wondered if he used some otherworldly magic to lure her into his embrace. 

“Keep your hand in mine, I’m going to take you somewhere. Somewhere private, away from the crowded turmoil of this camp. I’d be very surprised if you weren’t loud,” he said. With his passion came intimidation, a rare forcefulness carried only in the beings beyond the physical world. Transcending boundaries mortals like Tav could never dream to touch. Not without his guidance. 

Holding onto his wrists with both hands, warm wind began to breeze through Tav’s hair, dotting gooseflesh on her bare skin. The environment around her began to dissolve, sparking and burning as if grinding across a searing anvil. A weightlessness captured her body, thrown high speed against the fastest current imaginable, closing her eyes with a calm sense of trust blooming within her. Whatever lie ahead, a careful voice inside her promised exultation, to be unmade and reformed again. 

Soft, cotton sheets met with Tav’s skin as the movement slowed to a halt. Oathbreaker placed her in the middle of a candlelit temple, surrounded by sandstone columns and wrought iron chandeliers. Who the temple belonged to was unknown, as Tav didn’t realise he’d formed the room in an image she’d find beautiful. Summoning a bed in the very centre, draping her in comfort and decadence before he dominated over her entire being. Anticipation broke her patience, what little she had of it, as she practically writhed on the mattress, wishing for his touch so unfairly kept from her. Oathbreaker remained stoic, composure invincible next to the little temptress he’d fallen so heavily for. If anyone would compromise his restraint, it would be her, but not yet. 

“So eager for me, and we haven’t even begun. You are an impatient little temptress. You don’t even know what this will feel like. Radiating lust, oh my beautiful dove, I’ll be savouring this,” He said, pacing around her on the bed, circling her like prey. 

He returned to the foot of the bed, glowing eyes of alien flame gently waving out of the helmet. Transformed from burning orange to an excited, assertive red. Tav examined him at length, no solid mass between the crevices of plate, replaced by the same fire that flowed everywhere else. Without a body, how would he merge the two of them? 

She didn’t have much time to think before he was throwing commands at her again. 

“I want you naked, sweet girl. Then lie on your back, so I can see what will soon be mine,” he said, watching carefully as she began. 

All she had was a nightgown, easily slipped off with one swift gesture. Her naked flesh exposed before him as she slowly rested her back on the downy sheets, comforted by the feather pillow under her. Nervousness dotted her movements, lying with her arms at her head, fingers playing with loose strands of hair. Legs closed, bent upward as she felt her ankles rub together. Cool air soothed the rushed heat within, charged with trepidation over being nude in front of him. How he might feel to see her bare for the first time. 

Little did she know, a part of him reached a boiling point. Something akin to butterflies in the stomach, shocking Oathbreaker with razor thin accuracy, leaving him confused over where such a feeling could take root. A sliver of hope that, perhaps, his heart had not decayed into oblivion. 

“Beautiful. Known to me already since the moment I saw you. I’ve watched you undress, before you noticed me lurking. Seen parts of you in such teasing flashes, but never meant for my gaze. Now, I want to see you open for me , split your legs. Let me see your pretty, little cunt,” he ordered.  

Under the firelight of the chandelier above her, Tav slowly parted her anxious legs. Feeling fatty skin from her thighs separate as a tickling chill kissed the surface of her pussy. Wet, glistening to the point of madness, and swollen beyond belief from such a lack of stimulation. She feared for her own sanity if he didn’t touch her in some way soon. Running her hands across her hips, so tempted to touch herself, yet stopping because he didn’t ask her to. Thinking back to when she licked his finger, the discipline of being pulled forward; she grew hotter thinking about what he’d do if she played with her clit before he could. 

But she’d done something right, as a sharp, predatory growl emanated from the Oathbreaker, a light echo from the armour. Watching as he hooked his armoured hands around the iron posters of the bed, grabbing so tight the metal creaked with a threat to shatter like frosted glass. More flames began to slowly wade out of him, like soothing vapour from an incense burner, bright with supernatural fervency. 

“When are you going to touch me, Oathbreaker? Am I to be sprawled naked for you until the end of time?” She asked. 

“If I want you to, yes. Imagine it, tied to this bed for an eternity, laying blissfully bare. Awaiting my return so I can bask in the beauty of you. My one, little connection to reality. Touched only when I decide to ruin you, piece by piece,” he said, musing as if he was telling himself the story rather than Tav, until he continued: “But I’m merciful, especially with a darling thing like you. Stay very still, and we can begin.” 

Tav breathed out a liberating sigh, letting her muscles relax against the soft fabric, fingers stretching across the silhouette of her naked body. Relieved to finally know what he had in store for her, prepared to beg for his mercy if she had to. 

He just wanted to look at her, flood his senses with the elements of mortality, experiencing all he’d tried to forget. That’s why he spent days observing her, drawn to every part of her as the image of what he remembered existence to be. Many mortals crossed his path, paladins seeking to rebuild their broken oaths, or do away with them entirely. The result mattered little, as did they to him. Simply the conduits for which his eternal purpose sought refuge. She wasn’t even a paladin, no sworn fealty or divine crusade, a mortal more meaningless than the ones he guided. And yet he could not stop. Engrossed in a lecherous bubbling within him, wrapping his enflamed spirit in a sensation so captivating he swore it was human . Making him claw at skin he did not have, scream out the beats of a nonexistent heart. 

And now, she lied before him, naked and eager for him. Him. Everything, everything for him. Arms outstretched above her head, presenting to him the rise and fall of perfect breasts, nipples pointed with excitement. Smooth skin running down the flesh of her thighs and rear, thick and warm blood—alive. Lively whimpers escaping lush lips as her fingers trailed around her aching cunt, the pulsating excitement of her core almost an injustice to him. For the first time in a long, long time, he was infuriated that he couldn’t touch her. Not the way a human could, anyway. What he could do was possess her, entrench himself in her body, pleasure her from soul to bone. 

“You are horrible, painful perfection. I am so limited in the ways of showing you how you make me feel. But I am going to consume you, dear. Ripple every, single fibre of myself into your body. Slipping inside from each opening of your purified flesh, until I am within your nerves, your veins, your skin. Taking you as mine, and soon, whatever you feel, will be me. Fear is normal, in fact, encouraged. I will not harm you, but to feel your entire being tightening around me will be nothing short of bliss. Let me warn you, that the start may hurt just a little, much like the first time a cock thrust into you. But this ache will be much shorter, and I will vow to take you into an unmatched rapture,” he explained. 

Tav was resplendent, glimmering with golden desire as her body lay under the warmth of a hundred candles. Oathbreaker moved to the side of the bed, so close she could play with the fabric wrap around his armoured waist, wondering if he felt anything when she ran her hands across the metal between his legs. 

No sound came from him, but little currents of fiery red flowed from his plate, travelling around her body like the tips of delicate thorns on the stem of a rose. Electrified tingles climbed up her skin, light burning heating the surface of her body as more and more enflamed current flowed from the armour. The entire bed was awash in his primordial essence, floating above the fabric as the waves transformed into a calm turquoise, wrapping her in a tidal sea of curious intrigue. They produced a similar sensation to fingertips, brushing across with a gentle caress. Hands were localised, centred around a single area, but not the Oathbreaker, his energy emboldening every part of her, from the nape of her neck, the path from ankle to calf, and the peaks of her hardened nipples. Rapturous moans sang out of her throat, dancing on the precipice between the touch of someone and the ethereal sting of a magical breeze. 

In her ears, she made out the sound of heavy breathing. Not from her, but the weighted, combative sighs of a herculean man; the mortality of the Oathbreaker borne from each doctrinal purr of his voice. Knowing she could hear him as he invaded her body made the experience even better, undone by the feeling that he was both inside her and next to her. 

“Do you feel me on your skin, little temptress? Turning your form into a husk fit just for me,” he said, noise emanating from inside her ears rather than the armour, each word coming from an epicentre within her very being formerly untouched. His voice echoed more, as if he had become a faint dream in the back of her memory. Letting the flames of his essence wrap around her limbs, twisting across arms and legs, swimming across her chest. He was relishing in this, she could sense it, claiming ownership of every inch. 

Oathbreaker continued, unable to ignore the mad pleasure of talking her through the scorching of her earth. “Kiss me, sweet mortal.” 

An azure stream floated up to her chin, dancing around her opening lips in a flirtatious waltz before slowly sinking into her mouth. Tav gasped, wind taken from her very lungs as the warm current tingled like ice and fire, imitating a tongue slipping inside. Crawling from the corners of her lips, all the way to the back of her throat, capturing each pore and sinking in, a faint glow shimmering against her cheeks. Tav couldn’t help but point her toes in ecstasy, an indescribable heaven found in his extraordinary kiss. 

Once the first tide of Oathbreaker’s essence travelled down her mouth, Tav felt the source of that complex weightlessness. All control of her body ceased, muscles no longer her own as his invisible force guided her limbs where he wanted. Her toes loosening as limbs disconnected from brain, her legs lifting up to her stomach, bent and spread. Those preternatural vibrations of aquamarine going right to the destination she’d wanted him for what felt like hours. Circling around her pussy in a hurricane formation, grazing against the sensitive bundle of nerves at the very centre. Energy throbbed around her, creating the sensation of wet friction against her clit, so vivid yet a translucent vision occupying her most vulnerable spot. She could not grind or buck her hips, couldn’t move her fingers to rub alongside the currents, all she had was to bask in the strange pleasure of being brought to climax by a phantasmal vitality. 

“Do you feel that? Using every ounce of my energy to make you cum for me? Yes, pet, that’s me. Although you cannot see, you can hear and you can feel ,” he said, ending the sentence in a primal, mischievous whisper. “Sweet, sweet cunt, I can taste you from the inside. Moving deeper into you. Let go, love, ready your little hole for more of me.” 

Hearing him gave little time to spare before a blooming, unearthly orgasm buzzed through her entire body, pushed forward by the hellfire of the Oathbreaker gloriously warming her insides. Tav cried out during, a strained moan high enough to be a squeak in some parts, so shocked by the incredible sensation of his sex. Sweat beading down her back, arching over the covers in unshakeable pleasure, suspended under his control. The entire time, she could hear him laughing in every corner of her ears, violent clicking in each chuckle like an incubus harnessing his victim. 

Tav yelped out loud when his current of flame sunk inside of her cunt, nothing but ethereal air yet creating a sensation of stretching. Sharp, stinging tingles seared inside her, true to his word when he mentioned there’d be some pain. But the agony melded with the ecstasy, an orgasmic combination that reddened her cheeks over how much she enjoyed the sensations together. Cold ache faded, conquered by the increased formation of flaming waves around her, sculpting into almost a body on top of her. Remnants of shoulders, the large, arched back of a mighty soldier, the thrusting of a burning cock inside of her. The figure ebbing and flowing, never fully materialising before dissolving once again into a burst of ephemeral energy. She craved to reach out, touch the river consuming her body, but still, she was paralyzed by his sensual invasion. Focused on the alluring choir of his fantastical moans in her skull. 

“Oh, I love drowning in you. Taking over every part of you until you scream, scream over and over for mercy that I will not give. No, no, no mercy for you are mine now, pet. I will visit you nightly and take you like this until I find a way to keep you in my realm forever. Would you like that, little temptress? Do you want to be mine?” He mused, the gnarling shift of his voice so deep in her ears that she swore she felt the moistened breath of him dotting her lobe. 

The entire time, rough, passionate stretching vibrated her soaked cunt. A puddle of her wetness pooling onto the blanket, a primordial cock made from hellfire thrusting into her. Real or not, his possession made everything authentic, drenching her in unequivocal magic accessed only by powerful beings such as him. Perhaps she was really lying there like a limp corpse, nothing but stale air existing around her, but in her mind’s eye, she was in paradise. And nothing else in the world could compare to the threading of blood, to bone, to marrow controlled by another. Ready to submit to any carnal desire he craved as the impatient heartbeat of another orgasm began to creep within her nerves. 

He hadn’t taken over her voice on purpose, hell bent on hearing the vocal contract to give herself to him. When she did speak, pride emulsified his death ridden soul, if one was generous enough to call it that. Invited to massacre her love of the living domain and become transfixed with his, for he would make sure she was endlessly addicted. Swear a new oath of fealty to suspending her in a garden of mystical, feverish pleasure. This feeling had so long been absent from him that it became brand new, willing to do the impossible to keep himself tattooed to her form. 

“Oh, Gods above, yes! Make me yours, take me, please! I c-can’t stand it…I’m gonna…” She cried out. 

Oathbreaker’s breath shook, a sharp, rigid inhale like a dry crack of a throat. Animalistic, primitive, containing a bone snapping, beguiling carnage that brought Tav to another explosive climax. Blood curdling from the base of her stomach, rushing up to her mouth to end in a mangling howl. Her muscles thrashed under his hold, trying and failing to break free from his powerful spell, far too embedded within her to be so easily removed. And he was positively ecstatic, driven insane by the flood of ecstasy caused by him inside his little conduit. She was at her most beautiful this way, collapsing upon herself as she twitched from her release. 

“Such a well behaved supplicant,” he said, “I hope that was enough for you, my most enticing mortal. It is my turn, and you are so small, my entire release will flood through the entirety of you. Set you aflame from the very core of your soul, but it will not hurt, I promise. Burn with my seed, little darling, take me in.” 

Hot, infernal heat tore across her body, as if she was reborn in fire. Oathbreaker’s virile, echoing moans rumbled within, each syllable coating her ear in demonic clicks of an invisible tongue. Sweat dripped from the back of her neck, down her arms, even her feet, enduring the heat of ghostly flame annihilate all corporeal essence. But he was right, nothing burned or scarred, caught in the embers of domination, leaving nothing but the aching glee of being totally, completely possessed. No deceptions, no going back on promises, only the solid reality that he wanted her, desired her. 

A divine hush radiated the vicinity, Tav’s body lulled away from the flames and back into the coolness of midnight air. Shivering at the caress of Oathbreaker’s spirit exiting, leaving her a buttery, melted mess on the mattress. Tranquillity enveloped her more than ever before, his flame breaking her to pieces, only to heal her into something more flawless. Never in her life had she felt so…beautiful. Or, perhaps, cohesive. Every mismatched piece of her puzzled together with detailed intricacy. 

Oathbreaker returned to the armour, the currents that once occupied her body brought into the impenetrable iron. Remaining on the side of the bed, he outstretched a gloved hand to move perspired strands of hair away from her forehead. Tender despite the harsh surface of metal against her skin. 

“It took until now to realise I’d not had a reminder of what ecstasy feels like. Not for centuries, maybe even more. How perplexing that a mortal like yourself, not even touched with the divine, can have such an effect. Did I please you? Did I live up to your…expectations?” He said. 

When asking her questions, he never said them as if he was truly uncertain. Rather, the confident drawl of his razor sharp accent didn’t need to validate what he already knew. He had pleased her, because he had been her. Merging his being with hers and feeling every, single sensation needling her body. No, there wasn’t a shred of insecurity. He wanted her to confirm his own open secret. 

Tav could hardly muster words, exhausted and reeling with a futile attempt to understand what kind of magic coursed through her. “It was…amazing.” 

He chuckled again, that same tone of deceptive villainy. Demonstrating a capability to be entirely destructive, yet choosing something else. 

“Good, now sleep. When you wake, you will be back in your tent. Sorry to say that you will likely feel melancholic, as if rising in a world of black and white. But do not worry your pretty head about it, for I will return. Night after night after night, you will see me approaching. Only next time, I will not ask to come in. I simply will.”

[dissociation-station123]

LAD FANFIC: SYLUS X READER

CHAPTER ONE: FOREBODING & FORLORN STRANGER

Angst warning: Reader is neurodivergent and has been through a lot.

Sorry if it’s a bit boring! Promise to make future chapters more interesting!

~

After a long exhausting day, at your typical soul crushing office job there is one place you often find yourself. It was a place of convenience and escape. A hole in the wall bar just down the street from your apartment.

You discovered it on your journey to the corner store for a cheap quick meal after working overtime. There were no flashy neon lights, just a generic white sign with black font that said bar above a glass door. Inconspicuous and plain, you felt a strange kinship. So one day you decided to walk in. Months later you became a regular, where no one bothered you but acknowledged you.

That is where you found yourself tonight on a Wednesday, around eight. In the same barstool you always sat. You glance down at the dark wooden counter, worn and stained by time. Used and abused by drunken guests, if you could relate to an inanimate object this is the one you might choose.

You lift up the glass and take a sip of your usual, a bourbon with a drop of coke. This has become a routine, it is both comforting and suffocating. Yet after each sip the stress of the day melts away with the smooth burn of the liquor.

You turn around and survey the scene. The space is mostly empty. The same regulars sit in their self designated spots. A group of college kids chat excitedly in a corner booth. The older patrons are quiet as they drink, occasionally looking up at the one television. The younger group is boisterous and loud. You hear one student complain about the sticky table and smell. While the other rebuttals that the drinks are cheap and strong.

You felt as if you were somewhere in the middle of this demographic, not a bright-eyed youth but also not old enough to be receiving AARP brochures in the mail any time soon. You exhale feeling a big weight on your chest. You gulp down the rest of your drink and signal the bartender for another. She smiles and nods to let you know she will prepare it. You are not drunk enough to wave away the thoughts about life that begin invading your mind.

The years are going by way too fast. Along with it you lose friends and family for varying reasons. At a young age you refused to follow a path common for people of your age, sticking to your principals loyally. Your ideals deter you from having children. No white picket fence, mini van, or golden retriever. So now you sit on the aged barstool alone, no true responsibilities waiting for you at home.

There was one concept you fell victim to, marriage. It was a toxic steel crate of misery. A life of walking on eggshells and mentally checking out. You do wonder if it was mostly your fault because you felt so numb. The idea of love and happiness twisted and gnarled. You felt so much relief when it ended. When you escaped.

As your brain takes you on a nightmare of reminiscing, you feel a strange stillness around you. Slowly you blink and come back to the present. The eerie silence makes goosebumps form on your skin. You look around to find an exit or the reason; that is when your gaze falls upon a tall stranger. His reddish eyes are full of confidence and mischief. You sensed under the surface something more sinister.

The man walks slowly to the bar to sit a few stools down from you. “The strongest drink you have.” His voice is deep and authoritative, but also melancholy. The bartender's eyes widen in curiosity and fear, as she smiles and acknowledges his request. She is just now finishing your drink, so she sauntered over to you.

”Holy fuck he is hot.” She whispers as she sets down your glass, you laugh and shrug. You live in your head most days so you rarely notice others. Yet you could not deny how attractive he was. He wore what you assumed to be a designer sweater that clung to his well defined body. A thin silver chain hangs from his neck. He wore those dress pants very nicely. It is hard not to stare.

You take a sip of your glass and sneak a peek at his face. He stares at his hands lost in his own thoughts. He has sharp chiseled features and his white hair is both strange and striking. He is a walking statue, truly breathtaking.

Since you grew up in a volatile home, you acquired a unique skill. You were able to pick up on the mood of those around you based on certain factors; posture, expression, tiny sighs, or gestures.

As you study this stranger you notice he is slouching his large frame, eyebrows scrunched together and there is a pout on his lips. Also the fact he walked into a bar like this during a weeknight. Something must have happened to him.

“Hey! His drinks are on me.” You call out to the bartender. She grins at you sheepishly. A face that hints that you might have an ulterior motive. Your eyes widen as you shake your head. You regret your statement but it was too late to withdraw.

“If you are propositioning me I am not interested.” The man says matter of factly, not even looking in your direction. You laugh a bit embarrassed. He then turns to you with a raised brow.

“Me? I mean look at me.” You point to your oversized sweats and t-shirt. He merely lifts a brow, a slight frown on his face. “No, that wasn’t my intention! I swear!” You mumble throwing up your hands and he smirks, your heart leaps to life. You take a breath and collect yourself. “You just seem upset. It’s a token of kindness from one damaged soul to another.” You grab your drink taking a large awkward gulp.

“How presumptuous of you, sweetie.” The man chuckles but remains stoic. “But I appreciate it.” He lifts his glass in your direction and you do the same. Both of you leaning the glasses back and finish the contents in one chug. He smiles at you, impressed and you melt. You curse yourself and his good looks.

~

After the stack of empty glasses one would assume that you would be deep in conversation with the stranger. You could usually get people to tell you their life story without even asking. Merely your presence alone makes most people comfortable, even sober.

But this beautiful man simply basks in the silence. Not that you minded. Quiet often brought you solace. In a way just sitting and drinking with another being made your night a bit more tolerable.

“Closing up soon.” The bartender announced to you both. You look around and see only a small number of regulars remain. She places one more glass in front of you both and begins cleaning for the night.

“Cheers!” You say and he nods, lifting up the glass. You let out a sigh after finishing the contents and stretch like a pleased cat. You feel his reddish eyes studying you but you ignore him.

Gathering your bag you ask to close your tab. You choke a bit when you see the total. But recover quickly, proclaiming that you must treat yourself occasionally and it wouldn’t break you completely. Just a few additional replacements of instant dinners and you would recover.

You stumble a bit when you stand but a large hand steadies you. You look up giggling and nod in thanks. You give him a thumbs up that you got this and he releases you.

Without words you both express your goodbye. You don’t look back as you exit. You laugh to yourself amused that this encounter was the most excitement you had experienced in a while.

The chilly air makes you shiver and slightly sober up on your walk home. The moonlight guided you peacefully to your front door. You clumsily fumble with your keys but eventually make it inside.

Pitch black and no sound but the steady hum of the AC greets you. You try not to feel saddened by the atmosphere as you turn on the hallway lights. You make it to the kitchen and tiredly search for a cold bottle of water from the fridge, thankful to find one behind the bottle of chilled wine.

You pull a large bottle of Advil from your bag and take out a few. You swallow them with the water. The frigid liquid feels soothing as you consume it greedily.

Tossing the empty plastic into the recycle you shout, “Three pointer from half court!” As it successfully swishes in, you place your hands together, setting them to the side of your face to reenact the famous NBA shooter’s goodnight emote.

You put away your bag and hang up your keys, proud you didn’t just toss them somewhere for your sober self to search for in the morning. You eye the shower in contemplation but your exhausted body pushes you towards your bedroom instead.

Haphazardly you toss your sweats and t-shirt on the ground. You audibly sigh in relief as you remove your bra adding it to the pile. “That’s the stuff.” You tiredly mumble and collapse into bed.

Sleep takes you swiftly as you starfish across the mattress taking up as much space as possible. Your last thought giving praise to alcohol for existing to wash away any form of loneliness that might linger.

~

The blinding rays of sun hit you making you groan. Morning has come too soon and your alarm startles you a few moments later as you struggle to go back to sleep.

The splitting headache makes you whine in protest as you fumble to silence the assaulting tone. “Fuck!!” You scream out in frustration but you know you only have yourself to blame.

You slowly and carefully make your way out of bed. Feeling every ache and pain with each movement. Your knees crack and you curse even further. “Coffee! I need you!” You say dramatically as you wobble your way down the hall and into the kitchen.

You groan as you lift the kettle to fill it up with water and then plug it back in pushing the button down. You open your cabinet and grab the instant. You shuffle around adding ice and the rest of your essentials. You tap your foot until the water is finally ready, pouring it into your mug. You relish in the first sip, moaning at the sweet bitter concoction.

The hit of caffeine gives you the much needed endorphins to continue with your morning routine to get ready for the work day. Though you did move a tiny bit slower than usual.

The image of the strange man comes to your mind as you move on autopilot. You wondered what made him come into that bar. You should have tried to speak. You shrug realizing you would most likely not see him again.

After a shower and getting changed you felt a lot better. Stretching, you sigh contently as your joints pop. “Alright let’s get through the rest of the week!” Grabbing your bag you head out to commute to the office, your favorite playlist ready.

~

“Do you mind working some overtime today?” Your coworker asks with a smile. You plaster on a positive expression. You knew the question was a nicety not truly a request but an order. You agree, trying your best to hide your frustration. “You are the best Y/N! My daughter has a soccer game later.”

“Ooo well tell her good luck for me.” You answer and they agree happily as they begin packing their belongings up for the day. Shouting thank yous to you and to have a good weekend. Thankfully it was Friday so you could not be too upset about it. You had nothing going on so in a way you believed you deserved to stay over others.

You kept things in the office at surface level. Casual conversations to appease those around you. You kept your head down and stayed out of the spotlight. Working served one purpose: to pay bills. So you avoided creating a close bond. The work itself came easy to you but maintaining the social mask was exhausting.

“I really appreciate you staying. You are vital to us.” Your manager says as she walks towards your cubicle. If anyone but her would have said that you would have called bullshit. You were lucky enough to work for a genuine person.

“It’s fine. Not like I have any exciting plans.” You joke laughing to yourself. She looks a bit disheartened by your words. A small frown on her face.

“You're such a sweetheart. Y/N let me set you up with…” you hold up your hand and shake your head. She sighs as you cut her off.

“I appreciate it, I do, but I’m fine.” You say hoping to quickly end whatever plans she was thinking of. She looks at you suspiciously and you laugh. “I promise!”

She glares at you, “You truly promise?” Her voice was laced with concern. Her hands placed on her hips in defiance.

“I promise!!” You respond again and she finally smiles brightly at you. “Thanks for worrying about me though. It’s nice.” You feel a somber emotion and try your best to ignore it. She suddenly pats your shoulder, you could tell she wanted to hug you but she respected and understood your boundaries.

“Alright. Well don’t stay too late. Thanks again.” She watches you closely as you nod. “I bought some of those chips you like! Feel free to take some.” You weren’t sure why you were blessed with such a caring human for a boss but you were thankful.

As she leaves you take a sip of your afternoon coffee and turn towards your monitor. The clack of the keys were soothing as you finished up the last spreadsheet. You decide to stop by the small store for dinner since it would be late.

~

The chime of the bell above the convenience store alerts the regular late night cashier you have walked in. “Hey you!” The man smiles, always welcoming and you mimic his wave.

Even after visiting the same store throughout the years neither one of you bothered to truly introduce yourself. But you both were always kind. It was a mutual respect.

“Let me fry you up some fresh wings and wedges.” He proclaims excitedly and you were thankful.

“If it’s too much trouble…” you begin but he shakes his head to dismiss your pleasantries. “Are you sure?” You say for good measure and he laughs.

“It’s no trouble I promise. For my favorite customer it’s nothing.” He says and you feel a bit better as you give in. You nod and he smiles sweetly. He makes his way over to the small freezer and begins preparing your food. “Another late night I see.”

You shrug, “I don’t mind. Seems I’m not the only one.” The man chuckles as he works. You walk towards the refrigerators and pick up a carbonated beverage to go with the chicken.

The small exchange ends as you tell him to have a goodnight. And he responds with ”a see you soon.” The familiarity of both the clerk and store itself made you feel at ease as you made your way home.

~

It was now Sunday and the regime of dreary office banter and spreadsheets awaited you tomorrow. You stare at the bathroom mirror wiping the fog from the glass. Your reflection startled you, dark circles under your eyes and a sullen expression.

The quiet that surrounded you was tangible; thick and suffocating. You needed to get out even if it was only for a few hours. You quickly threw on clothes and made your way out the door.

Your feet carried you as you walked. Your mind is filled with a dark stream of consciousness. As you look up to see where they took you, a white sign and the same bar. You let out a hum fondness.

You walk in and freeze upon entry. Nestled amongst the handful of exhausted regulars, sitting in the barstool you designated as your own, was the stranger from the other day. Your eyebrows raise as you make your way over. Glancing at the bartender she shrugs as if unsure why he returned as well.

The man looks over at you and nods. You mimic his gesture and take a seat beside him. “I was hoping to run into you again.” You were not sure if you would ever be prepared for his sultry voice.

You point at yourself in a state of confusion and shock. This causes him to smirk slightly. “I don’t like owing anyone.” He signals for a drink and the usual woman smiles in response, already knowing which poison you prefer.

You felt a sense of panic build. If you accept this gesture you would be a bad human. “Ooo no! No need. It was not a big deal.” You stumble over your words. You fidget awkwardly as your drink is set down beside you. “It’s fine. I’ve got this. Thank you though.” You lift up your card to hand over to start a tab. A much larger hand beats you to it, with a shiny black card that leered back at you condescendingly. ~You are poor~

“I do not like when those around me don’t obey my command. You paid me a debt and so I am returning the favor.” His tone was serious. You almost scoff but those red eyes glared into your very soul. You simply pull back and pick up the glass while taking a sip. “Good.”

A bit of awkward tension hangs around the both of you. Your mixed up brain is irritated by his sternness yet elated at his praise. You also did not appreciate the display of wealth. You were unsure how to respond. “My name is Sylus.” He says raising his glass.

You hesitate still trying to figure him out. But after a few seconds you do the same. “Y/N.” You mutter observing his mannerisms. He is still slouched a bit but maintains his stoic persona. He was very difficult to read.

“Cheers.” He calls out with a smile that does not reach his eyes. You nod and you both throw back the whiskey. You could tell he was trying to determine what type of person you truly were. Neither one of you willing to start a conversation made this a bit harder.

You were not expecting to ever see him again. You were still reeling from his presence. In your bar, your comfort, a mysterious stranger returns. You weren’t sure if what you felt now was foreboding or excitement.

[alexanderwales]

Movie Review: Hot Frosty

I make it a point to watch at least one of the new crop of terrible holiday movies on Netflix every year. This is partly to broaden my horizons beyond my usual interests, and partly because I have some sick fascination with the most mass-market of mass-market movies. The budget always seems razor-thin, the writing is terrible, and yet I have to assume that most of their viewership comes from people who take legitimate enjoyment from them rather the more academically curious.

This year it was Hot Frosty, whose premise is that a sexy snowman comes to life. This is a small town story, with its quickly introduced cast of characters: the kindly couple that run the clothing store, the nosy police-chief and his deputy, some older horny women, and our protagonist's friends.

But of course it's a romcom, so the important characters are our two leads, Jack the snowman, who gets brought to life five minutes in, and Kathy, the woman who runs the local diner and has a dead husband. A romcom lives and dies on the chemistry of the two leads, and this ... it's not it.

(Minor aside: the male lead is played by Dustin Milligan, who I knew better as Ted from Schitt's Creek. He does the goofy earnestness thing well, and is incredibly muscular in this movie, with large veins and very very little body fat. They have him shirtless in a lot of scenes, especially toward the start of the movie, and I kept thinking of how much work that must have been, and also found myself wondering what the appeal of this was. I think if this movie is a success, a lot of it will rest with the name "Hot Frosty", but the rest of it will be the "hot" factor.)

The start of the problem is the "Born Sexy Yesterday" trope, which I'm not sure I've ever seen with a male character. Usually they go with "noble savage" or "fish out of water", your Tarzans or whatnot. Edward Scissorhands, maybe? But anyway, the movie is very explicit that Jack is incredibly naïve, a fast learner but with zero life experience. This is problematic, mostly because of the massive power imbalance, but I don't think that would necessarily sink the movie. He's quickly repairing roofs and making food, picking up handyman skills from watching television somehow, it's magic, don't worry about it.

The problem is that Kathy treats him, for most of the runtime, as his mommy, and not in a sexy way. She's more concerned for this guy she assumes has brain damage than she is attracted to him. This is reasonable, but does not make for a good romance. He demonstrates value by fixing her roof and cooking her food, and she's more like "aw, that's sweet" than "bed me now". It's like he's mentally disabled and she's his carer.

There is zero tension between these two characters, by which I mean there's nothing to keep them apart. He's essentially ready to marry her from day one, and she's got the dead husband thing that gets brought up in some clunky dialogue, but that's simply not enough, and the internal tension of "my husband's death has really been weighing on me" does not, in my opinion, translate well to a romcom. There's just no push-pull for them to work with.

The B-plot of the movie has the town's sheriff (played by Craig Robinson) arresting Jack for streaking at the very start of the movie. Jack is "made of snow" and can't handle the heat of the jail for long, so he starts to melt/die, and the sheriff keeps him in jail because he's a power-tripping piece of shit. The whole town comes out in support of Jack, but he more or less does die in police custody, then comes back after being kissed. Hot Frosty doesn't quite offer up an indictment of the police, but I did find it funny that this is what they chose to go with. This is definitely not a movie that's part of a larger conversation on policing in America.

And in the end, Jack turns into a real man, with the implication of a happily ever after, unless this somehow does really well, in which case it'll get some kind of sequel.

The most interesting aspect of this movie for me was the "born yesterday" aspect, and in my opinion they did a terrible job of both navigating that minefield and making it actually appealing. I guess I find it creepy with the genders reversed anyway, so maybe it was never going to work for me. There was a scene were he starts to undress in front of her because he never learned a nudity taboo, and ... I don't know, it just fell flat, and I don't think it would have been more appealing if I wanted to see this guy's body (I have once again re-affirmed that I am not interested in men).

The allure of "born sexy yesterday" is commonly stated as "please teach me sex, educate me on smooching", and ... I guess I'm left curious whether this is something that women like? The fact that it doesn't show up much in the cultural canon would, by the efficient market hypothesis, say that it's not a common fantasy. When I can recall seeing a female fantasy with young men, there's no trace of naivete, they're just young and eager, but I am (understandably, as a straight man) not incredibly well-versed in the breadth of female fantasy. Any time you have a character confused about the nature of sex it's going to read as pedophilic, but this hasn't stopped the gender reversed trope.

My wife flat out refused to watch this movie with me, so I couldn't ask for her opinion on it.

Final Score: 3/10, even allowing for the fact that I'm not the target audience, but it'll somehow be seen by millions of people. I assume it's "so bad it's good" to some people, or worth watching because it's corny slop and you do not need to engage even one once of your brain.

[goldenempyrean]

Doctor Google

〚 Day 16 - Consulting the Internet/Web MD 〛

〚 Pairing - Kara Danvers x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - Kara may not really know exactly how to look after her sick girlfriend, but google sure does. 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙〘 Sicktember 2023 Masterlist 〙

“Kara- Kara! It’s just a sore throat, I’m not dying!” You had to raise your voice to attract the attention of the rapidly pacing blonde in front of you, the use of her superspeed making her dizzying to watch. 

Kara finally came to a halt, her worried blue eyes locking onto yours. She looked like she was about to cry. "But, but you're in pain, and I don't know how to help you. I mean, I can stop bank robbers and save people from burning buildings, but I can’t do anything, and I can literally hear how congested you are!” 

You couldn't help but chuckle at Kara's adorable display of concern. Her superhero abilities were indeed awe-inspiring, but when it came to taking care of her sick girlfriend, it seemed she was as lost as anyone else. 

“It’s okay, really. I mean you’ve seen Alex sick right? I’m not going to die.” You couldn’t help but chuckle, albeit you regretted the decision when it sent you into a rough sounding cough causing Kara to zip to your side in an instant, rubbing her hand down your back in a soothing manner. 

Her hand on your back was surprisingly warm (mainly due to her Kyrptonian body running a few degrees warmer than your own) and you couldn't help but lean into her touch. She was trying so hard to take care of you, and it melted your heart. 

She stayed by your side for a while before seemingly getting an idea which had her practically jumping off the sofa and racing off to grab something. When she Kara returned, her eyes were glued to her smartphone. She had a determined look on her face, as if she had just discovered the most critical piece of information in the world. She plopped back down beside you on the couch grinning like a child who’d just been given an extra piece of candy. 

"I know how to help!" Kara declared confidently, waving her phone in the air. "I just Googled 'how to take care of someone with a cold.'" 

You couldn't help but smile at her blatant enthusiasm, "Well, what did Google say then?” 

Kara cleared her throat and started listing off the advice she had found. "Okay, so, it says you should stay hydrated, get plenty of rest, and keep warm. Oh, and chicken soup! Apparently, chicken soup is a magical cure for colds." 

"That's a good start.” You sighed contently; soup did sound good. 

"But wait, there's more!" Kara continued, scrolling through her search results. "It says here that I should keep you comfortable, so I can maybe you an extra blanket if you’d like. And, um, it says I should also make sure you have tissues nearby, so..." She produced a box of tissues from seemingly thin air. 

You raised your eyebrows, “Oh! Thanks.” 

With a triumphant smile, she handed you the tissues, "Oh! It says you should nap too, napping will help, and I should make you hot tea with honey. I can do that!" 

“That sounds really nice pumpkin, do you wanna make that and join me in bed? A nap does sound really good right now.” You asked to which she nodded happily. You gave her a small kiss as you pulled yourself up from the sofa, shuffling off in the direction of your shared room, coughing slightly into your elbow. “I’ll save you a spot for you and try not to cough up a lung while I’m there.” You joked, shuffling away. 

“Alright, I’ll be there soo- Wait, that can happen?!” 

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[drvirgus]

Protecting (my heart)

Idol! Minji X bodyguard! Reader

Description: getting a new job as NewJeans bodyguard isn't really something Y/n thought would happen to her. What exactly happens when she suddenly felt attracted to one of the NewJeans members? Can Y/n stay professional or are her feelings for Minji too much to handle?

Warnings: stalking; harassment; kys jokes; suggestive language; death threats; mention of abuse; mention of murder;

Chapter: Top or bottom? (Half-written)

Masterlist

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Nervously, I stood in front of the door after ringing the bell, holding two cups of coffee in my hands—one from Starbucks and the other from the bakery down the street. My hands were starting to ache from the heat of the coffee burning them.

I looked up at Minji, who was smiling as she opened the door. "H-hey. Sorry. The coffee is hot," I quickly said, and Minji's eyes immediately moved to the coffee, which she took from me. I let out a relieved sigh.

Minji gestured for me to follow her, which I did after taking off my shoes. With the Starbucks cup in hand, I followed Minji into the living room and watched as she placed the coffee on the coffee table.

"So... I wasn't sure if you boycott Starbucks or uh... that's why I got one from Starbucks and the other from the bakery," I said, feeling embarrassed as I noticed my cheeks heating up. "You decide which one you want," I muttered quietly as an addition.

Minji chuckled, visibly amused, shaking her head. "Well... that's not exactly the point of boycotting if you still end up buying something," Minji said as she came closer to me. "But it's already bought," she added as she took the Starbucks cup from my hand and took a sip.

"Thank you, baby," she whispered with a smile on her face, giving me a brief kiss on the lips. My body relaxed automatically as I just nodded and watched her sit on the couch. With a smile on her face, she patted the spot next to her several times, and I immediately sat where she indicated.

Nervously, I rubbed my hands together as I looked around. This was now the third time I had entered this apartment, but it was the first time I was here in my free time. And, Minji was now my girlfriend...

"Are... uh... are the others not here?" I asked, prompting Minji to look at me immediately. Her eyebrows raised as she scrutinized my entire face. "Oh... they're probably in their rooms," Minji murmured, and I nodded in response.

Somehow... knowing that relaxed me.

"Ah, okay," I murmured softly. Minji watched me intently until she handed me the hot coffee, which I accepted and bowed slightly. Minji looked at me with wide eyes. Suddenly, the younger woman laughed, "Are you as nervous as I am?" she asked, her cheeks visibly flushed.

With wide eyes, I immediately looked at my girlfriend and started nodding frantically. "Yes, I'm pretty nervous," I replied, starting to laugh a bit. Minji laughed along with me, and you could almost feel the nervousness in the air.

Minji glanced away from me before looking back at me again. "Um... don't you want to... take off your jacket?" the taller woman said, tilting her head slightly to the side. My eyes immediately fell on the thin cardigan I was wearing over my sweater, and I laughed as well.

"Oh. Yeah. Of course," I said softly as I placed the coffee in my hand on the table and moved to take off the cardigan. My eyes met Minji's as I smiled again. "God, sorry... I guess I'm more nervous than I expected," I said with a light laugh, which seemed to relax Minji a bit, who was also nervous.

"How about... we have a drink?" my girlfriend asked with a small smile. I chuckled as I took my coffee back into my hand. "Honestly... no," I replied, which made Minji look at me questioningly.

"Even though I'm nervous, I'd like to experience my time here with you sober," I said as my hand rested on her thigh, and my eyes simply gazed into hers. "Don't you?" I asked, feeling a bit nervous as I started to smile lightly.

Minji huffed as she nodded her head. She placed her coffee on the table and made sure mine was next to hers. Almost immediately, she connected our lips, which made me exhale contentedly.

"Minji," I murmured softly between kisses as my hand wandered up her thigh. I noticed the idol tensing slightly, but despite that, her hand gripped my neck to pull me even closer to her.

A hum escaped my lips as I pulled away from her. I swallowed as I looked into her left eye and then her right. Our faces were only centimeters apart. I could feel her breath, now smelling of coffee, on my skin.

"I... like you so much," I whispered softly as my hand brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. With half-open eyes, I leaned in closer to her again. "I'm still a virgin!" the taller woman shouted in my face, causing me to flinch slightly.

Confused, I blinked several times. "What?" I asked, somewhat surprised by Minji's sudden revelation. Almost immediately, my eyes widened, and I recoiled. "Did... did I get too close? Oh God. I didn't mean to— I mean— uh," I said nervously, waving my hands defensively in the air.

Minji laughed at my reaction and seemingly also at my panicked expression. She held her hand up to her mouth as she gently tapped my arm, letting out a loud giggle.

"No, no. You did everything right. I just... thought you should know," Minji replied, now looking quite nervous herself. Her hands were on her legs as she started playing with her fingers, and she had already bitten her lip.

Smiling, I relaxed and placed my hands on hers. "Okay. Thank you for telling me," I said gently as I saw Minji looking at me. "We'll go at your pace, okay?" I added with a small smile as I noticed how red her ears had become.

I cleared my throat. "How about watching a movie?" I asked, clearly trying to change the subject. The younger woman understood, of course, and nodded her head. She immediately grabbed the remote.

"Yeah... let's watch a movie," the younger one said as she turned on the TV and quickly opened the Netflix app. I smiled and leaned back. "Minji?"

"Hm?"

"You can tell me anything. Every little thought. Even if it seems unimportant to you."

"Okay," Minji replied as her eyes briefly glanced at the ground, probably to hide her blush. But I noticed it with a smile on my face.

Minji is so darn cute.

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