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cloudyluun · 1 day ago

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Until You Stay | famous!harry

Summary: Beth Monroe is a sharp-tongued journalist looking for her big break. Harry Styles is a cocky, untouchable rockstar who doesn’t take well to being challenged. What starts as a battle of wills—sharp words and razor-edged tension—spirals into something darker, filthier, and impossible to walk away from. But when feelings get involved, when the masks slip, will they still be able to pretend it doesn’t mean anything?

A/N: This is a commissioned work of fiction based on Harry as a famous singer, I make no claims of knowing him personally in any way. But someone trusted me to bring their filthy, angsty dreams to life, and I may have gone just a little feral in the process. So enjoy the chaos, the tension, and, of course, Harry being an insufferable asshole.

Word Count: 7,7k

Warnings:

Explicit Smut (very detailed & filthy)

Rough Sex, Degradation, and Dom/Sub Dynamics

Jealous/Possessive Harry

Toxic Dynamics & Power Struggles

Strong Language & Dirty Talk

Angst & Emotional Turmoil

Paparazzi & Media Manipulation

Mentions of Alcohol & Self-Destructive Behavior

A Hard-Won Happy Ending

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Beth Monroe had always known she was meant for more than this.

Twenty-seven years old and already jaded, she was the kind of journalist who wanted to chase real stories—the ones that peeled back the glossy surface of the world and exposed what lay underneath. The truth. Not the watered-down, PR-approved version of it, but the raw, unfiltered mess of reality. That’s why she had spent years clawing her way through the ranks of journalism, determined to escape the suffocating confines of celebrity gossip and meaningless soundbites.

But the industry had other plans for her.

She had started with ambition, fresh out of college, ready to write the stories that mattered. But the jobs that paid? The ones that kept the rent covered and the lights on? Those were the ones that required clickbait headlines and shallow coverage of people who barely seemed real.

And so, Beth had become another faceless name in the sea of entertainment journalists, forced to write about scandals, red carpet outfits, and who's dating who. She’d learned how to craft engaging pieces that held just enough bite to make them feel substantial, but in the end, it was all just noise. A constant cycle of disposable stories about people whose lives would never be touched by the words she wrote.

That’s why this assignment felt like her last shot.

Her boss had made it clear—this was either going to be her big break or her last chance before she was permanently relegated to covering B-list divorces and influencer drama.

"We need something real, Beth," her editor, Jonathan Pierce, had told her, fingers tapping against his desk as he leveled her with that too-patient look. "Not just another shallow puff piece. Styles is at the peak of his career right now. People want to know who he is, not the version we see on stage, but the man underneath it all."

Beth had bit back the urge to roll her eyes.

Harry Styles.

Of course.

If there was one name that could guarantee headlines and clicks, it was his. He was a global phenomenon, a walking enigma, an untouchable icon. At thirty, he had long since outgrown his boyband past, solidifying himself as one of the most powerful and respected musicians in the industry. His concerts sold out within minutes. His albums dominated the charts. His face was plastered across billboards, magazines, and social media feeds worldwide.

And yet—he was also infamously private.

Beth had done her research. He gave interviews, sure, but they were carefully controlled, filled with charming deflections and rehearsed soundbites. The media loved him, but no one actually knew him.

Her job? To change that.

She had been granted exclusive access to his European tour, shadowing him across multiple countries, given rare, behind-the-scenes insight into the life of Harry Styles, the person.

Beth knew how this would go.

She would show up, ask the hard-hitting questions, and be met with infuriatingly smooth non-answers. He’d probably flash that boyish smirk, tilt his head just right, and make it impossible for anyone to push too hard. The public adored him for that.

But Beth?

She wasn’t here to adore him. She was here to unravel him.

Still, she wasn’t expecting her first glimpse of him to hit her like a gut punch.

The moment she stepped into that room, she knew.

He was going to be a problem.

The private event was held at an intimate venue in Paris; a low-lit, exclusive affair where only VIPs, industry elites, and carefully selected press members were allowed inside. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, leather seating, and the faint musk of whiskey poured into crystal glasses.

Beth walked in, blending into the sea of journalists and label executives, scanning the room for the man she had spent weeks researching.

And then she saw him.

Harry Styles did not belong to the real world.

There was something about the way he existed in a space, the way people naturally gravitated toward him—an effortless pull, an undeniable gravity.

He stood near the back of the room, dressed in an all-black ensemble that should have looked simple but instead made him look infuriatingly expensive. The tailored slacks. The silk shirt, unbuttoned just enough to hint at tattoos inked across golden skin. The loose, effortless curls.

But it wasn’t just his looks.

It was the way he carried himself like he was untouchable.

Beth watched as he laughed at something someone said, flashing that devastating grin that made cameras worship him. But it was the look in his eyes that caught her attention—sharp, assessing, distant, even as he smiled.

And then, as if sensing her stare, he turned.

Their gazes met.

A slow flicker of recognition crossed his face, though they had never met before. His green eyes scanned her, quick and unreadable.

And then, just as fast, he looked away.

Dismissive.

Beth felt heat rise to her throat.

Oh.

Oh, he was going to be a problem.

And he had no idea what was coming for him.

Beth didn’t look away first.

She wasn’t the type to shrink under scrutiny, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. But Harry? He barely spared her a full second before shifting his attention elsewhere, like she wasn’t worth a second glance.

The disinterest was strategic, she realized almost immediately. A controlled dismissal. The kind that kept people chasing, trying harder, falling over themselves for just an ounce of acknowledgment. She’d seen it before—men in power using silence as their weapon, turning the simple act of ignoring someone into an exercise of dominance.

It didn’t work on her.

So when she was finally ushered forward—her name murmured alongside a polite introduction—she didn’t bother offering her hand or plastering on a media-friendly smile. She met him with the same level of apathy he had thrown her way.

“Beth Monroe,” the event coordinator introduced. “She’s covering the European tour for Pulse magazine.”

Harry, who had just been charming some record executive’s wife with an easy smile and effortless conversation, didn’t even pretend to be interested. He gave the barest nod, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before lifting it to his lips.

“Journalist,” he mused, voice low, almost amused—but not in a way that invited conversation. More like he was tasting the word and finding it unappetizing.

Beth crossed her arms. "Is that a problem?"

That made him look at her properly.

Up close, she could see the flecks of gold in his green eyes, the sharp contrast between deliberate nonchalance and razor-sharp awareness. She knew the game well—he was observing, measuring, deciding exactly how much space she was allowed to take up.

And then, in the most unbothered, condescending way possible, he simply muttered, "No. Just predictable."

Beth’s lips parted, caught between shock and incredulous amusement.

"Predictable?" she echoed, lifting an eyebrow. "That’s a bit rich coming from a man whose entire brand is built on being the world’s most palatable rockstar."

There it was.

The shift.

The flicker of something in his gaze like she had managed to surprise him. Like maybe he wasn’t expecting her to push back.

It lasted half a second before he schooled his features, tipping his glass back and dismissing her completely.

Beth could feel the eyes on them. The silent tension in the room as the moment stretched between them. But Harry? He wasn’t interested. At least, not enough to entertain her further.

His voice was maddeningly even as he murmured, "Enjoy the party, Miss Monroe."

And just like that, he turned his back on her.

Beth spent the rest of the night watching. Not because she was enthralled—fuck no—but because she needed to understand him. If she was going to do this job right, she needed to know what made him tick, needed to peel back the carefully constructed layers he used to keep the world at arm’s length.

What she noticed was infuriating.

Harry was charming with everyone else. Effortlessly engaged, magnetic in a way that made people lean in, hang on his every word. He gave them just enough of himself—never too much, never too little. His persona was crafted with surgical precision.

But with her?

Nothing.

He ignored her. Not obviously, not rudely, but in a way that felt intentional. Every time she tried to break into a conversation, he sidestepped her. When she asked a question, he answered in vague, detached sentences.

And when she finally managed to pull him into a one-on-one exchange again, it ended just as quickly as the first.

“I’ve noticed you never really answer questions,” she said, arms crossed as she studied him from across the dimly lit bar area.

Harry didn’t look up from where he was stirring his drink with a lazy wrist. “And I’ve noticed journalists never stop asking them.”

Beth exhaled sharply through her nose. “Right. Because heaven forbid anyone learns something real about Harry Styles.”

That got his attention.

He set his glass down, leaning against the counter as his gaze slid over her slowly.

“You lot aren’t interested in ‘real.’” His voice was quiet, but firm. “You’re interested in a headline.”

Beth bristled. “And you’re interested in a narrative.”

Something shifted.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the weight of the conversation settling between them.

Then Harry smirked.

“Good luck with your story, Miss Monroe.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Beth clenched her jaw.

She wasn’t done with him yet.

Beth had dealt with difficult men before. Politicians who thought they were too powerful to be held accountable, executives who assumed her presence in a room meant she was someone’s assistant rather than the journalist they’d have to answer to. She had sharpened herself against condescension and arrogance, made a career out of standing her ground in rooms filled with people who wanted to dismiss her.

But Harry Styles?

He was a different breed of difficult.

For the next several weeks, Beth followed him across Europe, shadowing his tour with increasing frustration. She sat through press conferences where he charmed reporters into asking safe, meaningless questions—the kind that allowed him to give those clever, detached answers that never actually revealed anything.

She watched him interact with fans, saw the way he flipped the switch so effortlessly—one moment the distant, untouchable rockstar, the next, someone who could make a stadium of people feel like they mattered.

And yet, with her?

He remained a wall.

He made it a point to avoid her questions, brushing past them with an easy smirk and a raised eyebrow, like he found her attempts amusing.

“Beth, darling, you’re thinking too hard,” he had murmured once, lounging backstage after a show, still glistening with sweat from the stage lights. “Why don’t you just write the same piece everyone else does? You know, the whole ‘Harry Styles is mysterious but also terribly charming’ bit. Sells every time.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t write fanfiction.”

He grinned. “Shame.”

And then there were the games.

Beth would show up for scheduled interview slots, only to be told that Harry was "unavailable." Sometimes it was because he was in a mood. Sometimes it was because he was “too busy” relaxing in his dressing room, scrolling through his phone, while she sat outside with her recorder untouched on her lap.

When she finally called him out on it, he didn’t even pretend to feel bad.

“Beth, love,” he drawled, voice dripping in mock sympathy, “you’re in my world now. Things don’t always run on schedule.”

Her patience cracked. “So you’re just wasting my time for fun?”

Harry leaned back in his seat, legs spread wide, fingers tapping lazily against the armrest. “Not for fun.” Then, after a beat, he smirked. “Though it is fun watching you get all worked up.”

She wanted to throw something at him.

The breaking point came after a particularly brutal argument.

It had been a long day—one of those rare occasions when Beth had actually gotten a few uninterrupted moments to ask real questions. She had pushed harder than usual, refusing to let him slide through with half-answers and smirks.

“Why do you do that?” she had asked, arms crossed as she watched him peel the rings off his fingers after soundcheck.

Harry flicked a glance up. “Do what?”

“Pretend you’re giving people something real when all you’re actually doing is controlling the narrative.”

The look he gave her was sharp, guarded. “That’s rich, coming from someone whose job is to spin a story.”

Beth exhaled through her nose. “You think this is easy for me? That I just write whatever sells? I’m not here to make you look good, Harry. I’m here to write the truth.”

A tense silence stretched between them.

And then, before she even saw him move, he was in front of her.

Too close.

Her breath caught.

She wasn’t sure if he had stepped forward or if she had unconsciously leaned in, but suddenly, there was no space between them. The air thickened, buzzing with something hot and electric.

His jaw flexed.

His hands curled into loose fists at his sides, as if he was holding something back.

Beth lifted her chin, refusing to shrink away.

The corner of his mouth twitched—not in amusement, not quite. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and slow, a quiet challenge.

“You think you’ve got me figured out, huh?”

Beth swallowed, throat tight. “I think you hate that you can’t intimidate me.”

Silence.

A heavy, suffocating pause.

For a second—just a second—she swore his gaze dropped to her mouth.

But neither of them moved.

Neither of them acted on it.

And later that night, when Beth was alone in her hotel room, staring at the ceiling—she realized she was still thinking about it.

She wondered if he was, too.

Beth liked to believe that she had control over herself—over her emotions, over the way her body reacted, over the frustrating, infuriating pull she felt every time Harry Styles so much as looked at her.

But control was hard to maintain when someone was constantly poking, prodding, pushing just to see where her breaking point was.

And Harry?

Harry was pushing.

Hard.

It happened in Milan.

The afterparty was in full swing—music thumping, bodies swaying, conversations weaving in and out of the dim, golden-lit space. Beth wasn’t drinking, but the atmosphere was intoxicating in itself, everyone high off the post-show adrenaline.

Harry had been watching her all night.

Not obviously, not in a way anyone else would notice, but she felt it. The flicker of his gaze when she moved through the crowd, the way his attention snagged whenever she threw her head back in laughter.

She ignored it.

She refused to let him get in her head.

Which was why, when another musician—Nate, a guitarist from one of the opening acts—struck up a conversation with her, Beth didn’t hesitate to let herself enjoy it.

He was easy to talk to, charming in a way that didn’t feel like a performance. And when he leaned in, whispering something that made her laugh—a real, unguarded laugh—she barely had time to register the shift in the air before Harry was there.

He didn’t interrupt.

Didn’t say anything.

He just stood there, nursing a drink, his stare cutting through the noise like a blade.

Beth felt it before she saw it—the shift in Nate’s posture, the way his fingers curled around the bottle in his hand.

“I’ll catch you later,” Nate murmured, voice a little too careful.

Beth blinked. “Wait, what?”

But he was already slipping away, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the room.

And that was when she felt him.

The warmth of his presence behind her, the slow exhale against the shell of her ear.

“You like playing games, love?”

Beth closed her eyes.

Of course. Of course he had to do this.

She turned slowly, deliberately, only to find him watching her with a look she couldn’t quite place.

“Excuse me?” she said, tone light, though she could feel her pulse thrumming against her skin.

Harry tilted his head, mocking. “That was cute. The whole giggle and lean-in routine. Did you rehearse that?”

Beth’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I not allowed to have a conversation without your approval?”

His jaw flexed. “Didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying, exactly?”

He took a step closer.

Then another.

Beth refused to step back.

His voice dropped lower, dangerously smooth.

“I’m saying… you’ve been running your mouth for weeks. Acting like you don’t give a shit about me. But then—” He let out a quiet, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “—then you go and pull that?”

She scoffed. “Pull what?”

Harry smiled. It wasn’t nice.

“You wanted me to see that.”

Beth’s stomach flipped.

She should have laughed in his face. Should have rolled her eyes, brushed past him, walked away.

But she didn’t.

Because there was something about the way he was looking at her.

Something thick and charged and dangerous.

His hands twitched at his sides, like he didn’t trust himself not to touch her.

Beth’s breath shook.

The music downstairs faded into a dull throb, the laughter and chatter dissolving into nothing. The party might as well have been on the other side of the world.

It was just them now.

Beth barely registered how it happened—one moment, she was in the thick of the afterparty, heat and voices pressing in on all sides. The next, the door clicked shut behind her. A soft, decisive sound.

She turned just in time to see Harry’s hand linger on the lock, fingers curling around the metal, twisting until it slid into place. A quiet snick.

Her pulse skittered.

Slowly, he turned back to her, gaze dark and unreadable.

Somehow, between one breath and the next, Beth’s back was already against the wall, cool brick pressing through the thin fabric of her dress. She could still feel the phantom warmth of Nate’s touch—light, fleeting—but it didn’t matter. Not when Harry was in front of her now. Not when his body was taut with something sharp, something dark. His eyes, usually lidded with lazy arrogance, were harder now. Narrowed. Burning.

His fingers flexed at his sides, like he was trying to control himself.

Then, low, rough, "You like playing games, love?"

A shiver ran down her spine.

She forced herself to lift her chin. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

His jaw twitched.

Slow. Measured. He reached out, running two fingers up her arm, featherlight but searing. Beth refused to react, refused to show him that he got under her skin.

His lips curled. "Laughing. Touching. Batting your lashes at him like you wanted him to take you right there in front of everyone."

That made her scoff. "Oh, fuck off—"

She barely got the words out before he was on her.

No warning. No hesitation.

One hand shot to her throat—not squeezing, just holding, firm enough to make her gasp as his body pressed flush against hers. His other hand planted itself beside her head, caging her in completely.

His mouth hovered just above hers, breath warm, uneven.

"You wanna push me, is that it?" he murmured, voice like gravel. "You wanna see what happens when I lose my patience?"

Her breath hitched.

It wasn’t fear curling in her stomach. It was something much worse.

She wanted this.

Needed it.

So she pushed him again, knowing it was reckless. "Maybe I do."

That was all it took.

Harry didn’t waste another second.

His grip tightened, and then he was kissing her—if it could even be called that. There was nothing soft about it. No buildup, no hesitation. It was a clash of teeth and tongues, a war between them.

His hand left her throat, moving down, down, over the thin fabric of her dress, gripping her waist so tightly it ached.

Beth’s nails raked down his arms, her own frustration spilling over. She wanted to hurt him. Make him feel this the way she did.

"Fuck—"

The word was ripped from her throat as he yanked her leg up, hitching it over his hip. The dress rode up instantly, baring her thigh, and then his hand was there, fingers digging into her skin, making her burn.

Desperate.

That was what this was.

It wasn’t love.

It wasn’t romance.

It was hunger.

It was starving.

His teeth scraped along her jaw, down her neck. He bit—not enough to leave marks, but enough to make her feel it.

“Look at you,” he rasped, dragging his mouth down her jaw. “Needy. Desperate. And I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

Her fingers fisted in his hair. "Fuck you."

He laughed, breathless, dark.

"Say it," he pressed. "Say you want it."

Beth clenched her teeth. She hated him.

And yet.

"Say it."

She swallowed hard, nails still biting into his shoulders. "I want it."

He hummed in approval, pushing her harder against the wall. "Good girl."

Then he wrecked her.

There was no teasing. No gentle touch. He dragged her panties down and shoved her dress up with no regard, making her gasp as the cool air kissed her exposed skin. His fingers slid between her thighs, finding her soaked, and he smirked.

"Fuckin’ knew it," he muttered, lips brushing her ear. "You act like you don’t want this, but look at you."

She bit her lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a sound.

It didn’t last.

His fingers slipped inside her, rough, unrelenting, and the cry broke from her throat before she could stop it.

"That’s it," he murmured, pumping them hard and deep. "Don’t hold back now."

Her head tipped back against the wall, hands gripping his shoulders, nails biting through the fabric of his shirt. His thumb pressed against her clit, rubbing, teasing, pushing her closer and closer to the edge with every sharp movement.

"Thinkin’ about him now?" Harry taunted, voice low. "Bet you’re not."

She wasn’t.

She hated it, but she wasn’t.

All she could think about was Harry.

His fingers. His voice. The way he was taking what he wanted without a second thought.

Her whole body tensed, pleasure winding tight in her stomach.

And then he pulled away.

A whimper slipped out before she could stop it.

He grinned. "Not yet."

He undid his belt in a swift motion, shoved his jeans down just enough, and then he was lifting her completely, pressing her against the wall, spreading her open for him.

She barely had time to take a breath before he slammed into her.

"Fuck—"

She choked on a gasp, nails raking down his back as he filled her, stretched her in a way that made her legs shake.

There was no time to adjust.

No time to breathe.

He just fucked her.

Hard.

Desperate.

The wall scraped against her back with every sharp thrust, and she loved it.

His fingers bit into her thighs, holding her in place, making her take every inch, every punishing roll of his hips.

"You take me so fuckin’ well," he murmured, voice strained, lips dragging over her neck. "Like you need this."

She did.

God help her, she did.

She was close—so fucking close, and she knew he could feel it in the way she clenched around him, in the way her nails dug deeper, in the way her body arched.

"Say it," he ordered. "Say you’re mine."

Her breath stuttered.

He thrust harder. "Say it, Beth."

She swallowed the lump in her throat, her body screaming for release.

And then she broke.

"I’m yours."

He groaned, deep and guttural, and that was all it took.

Pleasure crashed through her, leaving her shaking, wrecked, gasping as he kept going, drawing it out until she had nothing left to give.

Moments later, he followed, hips jerking, a rough growl spilling from his throat as he came deep inside her.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Their breathing was heavy, erratic, mingling in the thick air between them.

Then, just like that, it was gone.

Harry pulled away, adjusted himself, ran a hand through his hair like nothing had happened.

Beth watched, still breathless, still reeling.

He met her eyes, his own dark, unreadable.

Then, with a smirk that made her stomach flip, he stepped back.

"See you around, love."

And then he was gone.

Leaving her wrecked, ruined, and still fucking wanting.

But worst of all?

She still wanted him.

She hated herself for it.

She hated him more.

Beth barely remembered leaving the party, barely registered the way the city lights blurred together in the back of her cab, the hum of Milan’s nightlife drowning out the noise in her head. Her body still felt him—his hands, his breath, the rough edge of his voice scraping against her skin.

It should have been enough.

It should have burned her out, smothered whatever slow, insidious pull had been building between them.

But it didn’t.

Because when she saw him again the next day, sitting in the green room of the arena, lounging like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t ruined her the night before—Beth realized something awful.

She wasn’t done with him yet.

Harry was different now.

Not in the way Beth had expected—not in the way most men got after a night like that.

There was no smugness, no knowing smirk, no self-satisfied arrogance that she could take a swing at.

Instead, he was… colder.

Distant. Detached. Like she was nothing more than a mild inconvenience, an insignificant blip on his radar.

He barely looked at her.

Didn’t acknowledge her when she walked into a room, didn’t spare her even a glance during soundcheck or press briefings.

And that should have been fine.

She should have been fine.

But the second she started talking to someone else—the second she so much as smiled in another man’s direction—Harry’s jaw would lock.

His shoulders would tense.

His fingers would curl around his drink, around his microphone, around anything to keep from doing something reckless.

Beth noticed.

And she made sure he knew it.

She leaned in closer when someone else made her laugh. Let her fingers linger just a little longer when she touched an arm. Tilted her head just right when she listened, knowing Harry was in the room, knowing he was watching even if he refused to look at her directly.

She wanted to prove a point.

If she was just a fuck, if she was nothing, then he shouldn’t care.

So why did he?

It happened in Paris.

Beth had been talking to a photographer, a harmless conversation, nothing she wasn’t allowed to do.

Harry had been across the room, pretending he didn’t give a shit.

Then suddenly, he wasn’t.

Suddenly, he was right there.

His hand closed around her wrist, fingers tight, his voice just low enough for only her to hear.

“Outside. Now.”

She blinked up at him, feigning innocence. “Excuse me?”

His grip didn’t loosen. “You heard me.”

For a second, she considered telling him to go to hell.

But she didn’t.

Because she wanted this too.

The door barely shut behind them before he was on her.

Teeth at her jaw, hands rough on her hips, shoving her against the brick wall of some dark alley behind the venue.

Beth gasped, but it wasn’t from shock.

She should have expected this.

She had wanted this.

“You’re a fucking brat,” Harry muttered against her skin, his voice thick with frustration, with heat, with something else she couldn’t name. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

Beth grinned, sharp and mean. “What am I doing, Harry?”

His fingers tightened.

“You think you can get a reaction out of me?” His teeth scraped her jaw. “Think you can make me jealous?”

Her breath hitched.

“So you admit it?” she whispered. “You were jealous?”

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

Because the way he touched her—rougher, filthier than before—told her everything she needed to know.

The first time had been about control. About proving a point.

This time?

This time, it was a need.

Desperate. Dirty. Addictive.

And neither of them could stop.

Every time they tried, they failed.

The silence never lasted. The distance never held.

Because the second they were in the same room again, the second their eyes locked across crowded spaces, it was already too late.

They had pulled each other under too many times to pretend they knew how to breathe without drowning.

Beth knew it was toxic.

Knew it in the way her hands trembled when she buttoned up her shirt in the dark, his warmth still clinging to her skin.

Knew it in the way Harry’s fingers curled into fists when he watched her leave, like he wanted to reach for her but refused to let himself.

Knew it in the way they never talked about it.

Because talking would make it real. Talking would force them to admit that it wasn’t just physical, wasn’t just convenience, wasn’t just a mistake they kept making over and over again.

But they didn’t stop.

Not when they should have.

Not even when the headlines started.

Not even when the whispers turned into full-blown rumors, twisting what they had into something uglier, something Beth couldn’t control.

She was losing pieces of herself to this, to him.

And Harry—Harry wasn’t losing anything.

Not his reputation. Not his career. Not his control.

She should have left before it reached this point—before it ripped through them like a wildfire, scorching everything in its path, leaving nothing but wreckage and ruin in its wake.

Before it bled into everything else.

Before it turned into this.

It happened in London, outside a sleek, high-end restaurant that reeked of old money and exclusivity—the kind of place Harry fit into effortlessly, where his name alone held weight, where he belonged.

Beth never had any interest in it. The glint of polished silverware, the hushed conversations over expensive wine, the way the air itself seemed thicker inside—like money had a scent, and it didn’t belong to people like her.

She hadn’t even wanted to come. Had told herself, promised herself, that she was done. That she wouldn’t let him do this to her again.

And yet, here she was.

The air outside was thick, muggy, summer pressing against her skin like a second layer, suffocating, clinging. A neon sign from across the street flickered, buzzing intermittently, painting the pavement in broken splashes of red light.

Harry stood a few steps away, pacing, hands raking through his already-messy curls. His jaw was locked, shoulders drawn tight, his frustration visible in the tense way he moved. He looked untouchable—towering, sharp, devastating in his black suit, the collar of his shirt slightly open like even it couldn’t handle the heat of the moment.

His eyes found hers—dark, searing, burning like embers about to catch.

“Are you seriously fucking mad at me for this?” His voice was low, taut, a thread stretched too thin, on the verge of snapping.

Beth folded her arms tightly across her chest, holding herself together. She could feel the anger, coiling hot in her stomach, winding through her like a slow, controlled burn. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

His lips pressed into a hard, thin line. “Enlighten me.”

She let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking her head. He didn’t care. He never fucking cared.

“Your team,” she spat, voice shaking despite her best efforts, “just made me look like some desperate, attention-seeking—”

“—that’s not what happened.”

“Really?” She stepped closer, chin tilting up defiantly, her eyes searching his face for something—anything. A flicker of regret. Understanding. A crack in the cold, calculated exterior he was so good at wearing. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like they threw me under the fucking bus to save your ass.”

The photos had hit the tabloids that morning.

Beth Monroe, clinging to Harry Styles. Beth Monroe, picking a fight in public. Beth Monroe, the problem.

Headlines twisting the truth, reshaping the narrative, turning her into something she wasn’t. His PR team had done what they always did—spun the story, cleaned up the mess, protected the asset.

Beth had been collateral damage.

Harry exhaled sharply through his nose, his gaze flicking away as if he couldn’t be bothered to deal with this. “Jesus, Beth, why do you care so much what people think?”

Her stomach twisted—not just at the words, but at how he said them.

Like it was nothing. Like she was nothing.

Like all of this—all the nights, all the touches, all the ways they’d clawed at each other, desperate and reckless—had meant absolutely fucking nothing to him.

And maybe it hadn’t. Maybe she had been fooling herself this entire time.

Something inside her snapped—something raw and fragile and past the point of saving.

“You know what?” She took a breath, forcing her voice to stay steady, forcing herself to hold his gaze even though it hurt. “I don’t. Not anymore.”

And before she could change her mind—before she could let him pull her back in—she turned around.

And for the first time, she didn’t look back.

It should have been a relief.

Should have felt like he had won.

But it didn’t.

Harry downed the rest of his drink, the ice clinking against the glass as he set it down with more force than necessary.

The neon lights of the club flickered above him, casting shadows along the crowded space. Smoke curled through the air, mixing with the thrum of bass vibrating through the floor, a heartbeat that wasn’t his. People surrounded him—laughter, touches, whispers—but none of it registered.

His third drink.

Or maybe his fourth.

He wasn’t keeping track. Didn’t need to.

Because Beth was gone.

And he should feel lighter. Should feel fucking free.

But instead, there was just this—this hollow, gnawing feeling in his chest, a slow rot that no amount of whiskey could burn away.

He had told himself it was just sex. That it was just a game.

A messy, reckless game they both played, fully aware of the rules.

So why the fuck was he still thinking about her?

Why did he still hear her voice—sharp and furious, echoing in his ears like an accusation he couldn’t shake?

I don’t. Not anymore.

Why did he still see her face when he closed his eyes—not the smirking, defiant expression she always wore when they fought, but the way she had looked at him that night—raw, open, hurt.

Why the fuck did that bother him?

Harry scoffed under his breath, shaking his head, reaching for another drink.

Fuck that.

She’d be back.

She always came back.

Wouldn’t she?

The weeks passed.

She didn’t call. Didn’t text. Didn’t show up at any more venues.

And no matter how many women he took home—no matter how many soft lips and unfamiliar hands he let touch him—it was never the same.

Because none of them were her.

None of them made him feel alive the way she did when she pushed him, when she fought him, when she stood her ground and refused to give in.

And for the first time, Harry realized—

He had fucked up.

Not just in the way he always did—careless, reckless, breaking things without thinking about the consequences.

No, this was different.

This was real.

This was Beth.

And he had let her slip through his fingers like she was nothing.

Like she hadn’t changed him.

Like she hadn’t fucking ruined him.

It took him weeks. Too many weeks.

Weeks of sleepless nights, of bitter drinks that burned as they went down, of meaningless encounters with women who weren’t her.

Weeks of ignoring the pit in his stomach whenever he reached for his phone and saw her name missing from his notifications.

Weeks of denying—lying to himself—until he couldn’t anymore.

Until it became impossible to pretend that this wasn’t more.

That she wasn’t everything.

So, he found her.

No cameras. No PR team carefully crafting the narrative. No staged apology meant to keep his image intact.

Just him.

Beth stood in the doorway of her apartment, eyes wary, lips pressed together like she wasn’t sure if she should slam the door in his face or let him inside just to yell at him.

She was in sweats, hair tied back, looking so soft and real and heartbreakingly beautiful that Harry had to clench his fists at his sides to stop himself from reaching for her.

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You really have no concept of boundaries, do you?”

He huffed out a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Would it help if I said I knocked first?”

Beth lifted a single, unimpressed brow.

“Yeah, didn’t think so.”

She sighed, exhaling heavily, fingers gripping the doorframe. “What do you want, Harry?”

Her voice was flat, tired—so fucking tired—and it hit him in the chest like a punch.

He did that.

He made her sound like that.

And maybe if she had been yelling, maybe if she had been angry, it would have been easier.

But this?

This quiet disappointment, this absence of fire, of fight—this was worse.

Because it meant she had already decided to let him go.

And he couldn’t have that.

He wouldn’t.

Harry swallowed, licking his lips, feeling the words crawl up his throat, unfamiliar and foreign and terrifying.

“I was afraid,” he admitted, voice rough, uneven. “You got too close.”

Beth’s gaze flickered, but she didn’t speak.

Didn’t stop him either.

“I didn’t—I don’t—” He let out a slow breath, shifting his weight. “You were supposed to be temporary, Beth.” His voice cracked on her name. “And I don’t want temporary anymore.”

Her eyes softened. Just a little.

But she didn’t let him off the hook.

Not yet.

She folded her arms across her chest, tilting her head. “So what? You came all this way just to tell me that?”

His jaw tightened. “Yeah.”

“And now you expect me to just—what? Forget everything? Pretend like you didn’t throw me to the wolves the second things got hard?”

“No.” His voice was hoarse. “I don’t expect that.”

Beth exhaled slowly, closing her eyes for a moment before she looked at him again, and fuck, he felt stripped bare under her gaze.

“I was falling for you,” she whispered, the words barely audible but lethal. “And you made me feel like I was nothing.”

His stomach dropped.

“I know,” he rasped. “And I’m—I’m so fucking sorry, Beth.”

She didn’t speak, but her fingers trembled where they curled around her sleeve.

Harry took a step closer.

Then another.

Until she was right there, close enough to touch, but he didn’t.

Not yet.

Instead, he just let himself be seen—raw, vulnerable, desperate in a way he had never allowed himself to be before.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, voice low, uneven. “But I want to try. I want you.”

Beth swallowed hard, blinking quickly, like she was trying to hold something back.

“Say it again.”

He frowned. “What?”

“Say it again,” she whispered.

Harry took a breath, steady and sure.

“I want you.”

Beth let out a shaky exhale, something breaking, fracturing between them—but this time, it wasn’t falling apart.

It was falling into place.

She didn’t answer.

Not with words.

But when she finally reached for him, fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him down, letting him in—

He knew.

She wanted him too.

This isn’t like before.

It’s not fueled by resentment, not tangled in frustration or sharp-edged words.

It’s not an attempt to silence their own thoughts or to claim victory in an unwinnable battle.

This time, it’s different.

Because this time, they’re choosing each other.

And neither of them wants to pretend anymore.

It’s quiet.

Not the uneasy, tension-laced silence they used to share, but something softer. He’s brought her here—to his real place, not some impersonal hotel room or a shadowy corner where they could disappear without consequence.

It’s his space.

Dim lighting from the city outside filters through half-drawn blinds, painting warm, golden stripes across the floor. The air is thick, heavy with something unspoken, the echoes of every past moment clinging to the walls.

No noise from the outside world.

Just them.

And for the first time, that’s all they need.

They stand close but don’t touch—not yet.

It’s strange, this carefulness between them, this slow, deliberate restraint. For so long, everything between them has been about force, about taking, about dominance wrapped in lust.

But now—

His fingers reach for her, hesitant but certain, trailing the line of her jaw with an aching kind of reverence.

No roughness. No bruising grip.

Just a slow, featherlight touch, like he’s memorizing her, like he’s afraid to move too fast.

Beth’s breath stutters. She tilts her face into his touch, just barely, just enough to tell him that she wants this too.

When she opens her eyes, he’s already watching her.

Already waiting.

Already sure.

When he kisses her, it’s nothing like before.

Not an attempt to overpower, not a silent demand for control.

It’s soft.

Tentative, at first—like he’s rediscovering her, learning the shape of her lips, savoring her warmth. A slow slide of mouths, the quiet exhale of breath mingling between them.

And then—

The restraint fractures.

A low, desperate groan rumbles in his chest, and his hands move to her waist, pulling her closer, molding her against him. The kiss deepens, turns hungry, but it’s not about possession anymore.

It’s need.

It’s want.

It’s everything they’ve never allowed themselves to feel.

Her fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him down into her, and he lets her. Lets her take as much as she wants.

He doesn’t rush.

Doesn’t tear at her clothes like before, doesn’t drag fabric over her skin like it’s just another obstacle to get through.

He takes his time.

Fingers skimming her shoulders, down the length of her arms, over her ribs. He lingers, watching her, drinking her in like he’s seeing her for the first time.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice rough with something raw, something that sounds like awe.

Her breath catches.

She should feel exposed. Vulnerable.

But the heat in his gaze doesn’t make her feel bare.

It makes her feel wanted.

She reaches for him then, pulling at his shirt, sliding her hands over warm, firm skin, feeling the steady, grounding beat of his heart beneath her palms.

He lets her undress him too.

No rush. No urgency.

Just this.

Just them.

He takes his time.

Worships her with his hands, his mouth, his tongue, exploring every inch like he’s memorizing her, like he never wants to forget the way she feels beneath him.

His fingers trace the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, the softness of her inner thigh.

He doesn’t hurry.

Doesn’t just take.

He gives.

She fists the sheets when he drags his mouth lower, when he pauses to watch her reaction, when he smirks against her skin at the way she shifts, needy, impatient.

She doesn’t want to beg. Not this time.

But when his mouth finally touches her, warm and devastatingly slow—

She does.

He doesn’t rush her to the edge.

He builds it.

His mouth works her over with precision, savoring every shudder, every gasp, every quiet, breathless plea.

His hands hold her open, steadying her, grounding her, keeping her exactly where he wants her.

He watches her the entire time.

Doesn’t look away.

Not when she trembles.

Not when she cries out his name.

Not when she finally, finally falls apart beneath him.

He just holds her gaze, dark and unwavering, like he’s making damn sure she knows—

This means something.

When he finally slides into her, it’s different.

No rough, frantic pace. No bruising hands.

Just this.

Just the slow, deliberate push of his hips, deep and measured, drawing a gasp from her lips.

He stills for a moment, presses his forehead against hers, breathing her in, grounding himself in the feel of her.

She wraps her arms around his shoulders, her nails dragging lightly over his skin.

Not clawing.

Not marking.

Just holding.

He moves then.

Not just fucking—making love.

Every slow thrust feels like a confession.

Every whispered “mine” against her lips feels like a promise.

And this time—

She doesn’t fight it.

She lets him have her.

And takes him in return.

No rush to leave.

No scramble for clothes.

No silence.

Just this.

Just them, tangled in sheets that smell like them, his arms heavy around her, his fingers tracing slow, mindless patterns against her back.

For the first time, he stays.

For the first time, she lets him.

There’s a pause. A deep, quiet moment where neither of them speaks.

Then—

“You’re mine now, aren’t you?”

His voice is quiet. Certain.

Beth doesn’t hesitate.

She shifts closer, presses her lips against his jaw, and breathes him in.

“Yeah, Harry.”

A slow smile tugs at his lips.

She watches it spread, watches the tension leave his body, watches the way he finally lets himself believe it.

“I am.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like ❤️‍🔥

taglist:

@oscahpastry, @mema10, @angelbabyyy99, @iloveharrystyles04, @cinemharry, @drwho06, @donutsandpalmtrees, @panini, @mads3502; @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa, @one-sweet-gubler, @rizosrizos26, @ciriceimpera, @everyscarisahealingplace, @hello-heyhi, @sexymfharriet, @lizsogolden, @hannah9921, @chicabonitasblog, @huhidontknowstuff, @berrywoods1245, @jennovaaa, @angeldavis777, @prettygurl-2009, @almostcontentcreator, @run-for-the-hills, @maudie-duan, @dipmeinhoneyh, @harrrrystylesslut, @georgiarose94, @stylestarkey, @watarmelon212, @ hopefullimaginer123, @fangirl509east

#harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fiction #harry styles fan fic #cloudyluun #commission

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hxrtnett · 27 days ago

Text

golden girl – charlie bushnell smau

𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ as costars for percy jackson, you and charlie are rumored to be together. your posts and comments on instagram only subtly give fans some shred of hope as they wait for the filming of the next season

warning/mention. swearing, “get a room” jokes, faint hate comments, nothing crazy just pure cuteness.

pairing. charlie bushnell x fem!reader

part two

@.yourusername posted on instagram

♫ — golden by harry styles

@.yourusername life recently! wrapped our movie excited for you all to see it 💞

tagged: @.arianagreenblat in 5th photo, @.movietitle

like|comment|share

liked by @.walkerscobell and 36.2k others

— comments

@.user33 WHO ARE THOSE FLOWERS FROM MISS GURL?

liked by @.walker.scobell, @.leahsavajeffries, @.dior.n.goodjohn

@.aryansimhadri it’s supposed to be hot out tonight, make sure you keep your windows open and the grogu next to it! 🥰

@.yourusername OH BIIIITCH

@.arianagreenblat casually just posting shit that had you nearly injured on set

@.yourusername idk why they thought to put two teenagers on set and not expect us to go crazy

@.iamcharliebushnell cute boots

@.dior.n.goodjohn had to read that twice to make sure he wasn’t saying smth bad ..

@.yourusername BYEEE HAHAHSHS

@.walker.scobell she laughing like zendaya does with tom holland

@.yourusername dior is just that funny ok

@.yourusername also thank you charlie ☺️

liked by @.iamcharliebushnell

@.user78 the pink shoes 🥺 aphrodite’s bby

@.user13 golden is y/n’s song argue with a wall

@.user42 i love how her smaller supporting role got sm love, y/n you deserve the world

@.user88 tbh i think it’s overrated and people only like her bc she’s pretty, there is so much fame for no reason over her character

@.user42 blud who asked for your opinion

@.iamcharliebushnell posted on instagram

♫ — better than i know myself by del water gap

@.iamcharliebushnell dump of some favorites that don’t go together but deserve to see the light

like|comment|share

liked by @.leahsavajeffries and 74.8k others

— comments

@.yourusername “deserve to see the light” BOY LITERALLY POSTS A PICTURE OF ME SLEEPING

@.iamcharliebushnell at least i posted you and the flowers first before that one

@.yourusername mhmmm 😑

@.user77 two pictures of y/n and her new dog .. they’re so dating if they’re not just shoot me

@.user98 they can be friends yk

@.walker.scobell so charlie can meet y/n’s dog first but we can’t?

@.iamcharliebushnell bro you’re literally in school and states away, how are you gonna go to her house rn

@.aryansimhadri you’re at her HOUSE??

@.iamcharliebushnell oh my god yall act like this is life changing

@.aryansimhadri IT IS (we all visit her sm it rlly isn’t but it’s just you so..)

@.user62 the picture of y/n and the flowers is so pretty he always gets her flowers

@.yourusername i just look at them too long and then we argue over paying

@.user62 OMG HELLO??

@.leahsavajeffries WHO ARE YOU SHIRTLESS FOR? WOAHHH PG13 PG13

@.walker.scobell YOURE TRAUMATIZING LEAH

@.yourusername posted on instagram

@.yourusername came home to family getting a beagle, he’s kinda annoying but it’s ok he’s cute (he’s also charlie’s best friend now)

like|comment|share

liked by 36.7k others

— comments

@.yoursibling BRO STOP HATING ON HIM

@.yourusername HIS BARKS ARE LITERALLY SCREAMS?? AND I NEVER SAID I HATED HIM

@.iamcharliebushnell “he’s kinda annoying” literally every morning you’ve got him all coddled up with you

@.yourusername i can be honest and love him

@.walker.scobell just like how you’re honest abt charlie’s muscles and love him

@.yourusername YOU’RE GONNA BE BANNED FROM SEEING RUDY IF YOU KEEP IT UP

@.walker.scobell NAWW

@.user3 y/n when can we get more silena content 🙏

@.yourusername i have tons of photos in my camera roll ..

@.user16 BRO POST THEM

@.yourusername posted on instagram

♫ — hey blondie by dominic fike

@.yourusername more bts of season one since yall asked so “kindly”, you’ll see brandon & i more in season two dw we just had to make a small appearance first

tagged: @.thebrandonsevers, @.iamcharliebushnell, @.aryansimhadri, @.walker.scobell

like|comment|share

liked by @.dior.n.goodjohn and 41.1k others

— comments

@.user09 y/n our golden girl frfr

@.user11 silena and charles :(

@.user45 silena before the madness

@.user56 why is charlie so close to you in that fifth pic

@.walker.scobell bros already trying to manipulate her to join luke’s side

@.user56 BYE SO REAL

@.aryansimhadri bro get a room with that fifth pic

@.yourusername bro shut the fuck up

@.iamcharliebushnell i couldn’t imagine any other casting for silena

@.walker.scobell we literally had to cast someone you’re in love with or it wouldn’t work

@.walker.scobell it’s been 30 minutes and all i hear are crickets

@.thebrandonsevers miss you dude

@.yourusername omfg i miss you too tell me your schedule we need to meet up i’ll bring rudy too

@.walker.scobell so basically i’m the last to meet rudy

@.user67 i love how cute brandon and y/n are 🥺just two buddies fr and not letting haters change or fans speculate that

liked by @.yourusername

@.user5 so she literally posts herself or pictures with the guys,, literally none of the other girls and gets comments praising her and the guys .. such a pick me

@.leahsavajeffries dude the whole first two y/n posts of silena and pjo had only her or the girls, she’s just posting what she hasn’t and what’s special- and she isn’t all over the guys those boys r literally like her siblings

@.user20 GAG EM LEAH

@.user9 lol i love how she used hey blondie for the post even though girl had her hair brown for silena- the vibes are so cutesy

@.yourusername real i was going for the pink barbie theme and the song is so cute (plus dominic fike is so hot)

@.iamcharliebushnell hello 🧍‍♂️

@.aryansimhadri dominic fike more like mr steal yo bitch

@.user22 there’s no way this doesn’t confirm it

@.aryansimhadri if i’m blamed charlie started it

@.yourusername OMFG CAN YALL EVER SHUT YOUR MOUTHS

#charlie & hxrtnett #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell x fem!reader #charlie bushnell x you #charlie bushnell x y/n #charlie bushnell smau #charlie bushnell x reader smau #charlie bushnell

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ellieswifie · 2 years ago

Text

︿︿ ੈ[ 🏐 ] ༉‧₊˚✧

kiwi | ellie williams

♪ kiwi — harry styles

summary: you and ellie williams are enemies in public and on the court, but certainly not in private. you’ve made ellie not only turned in the head, but completely lost for you. but how can you fall hopelessly for the one girl you hate most in the world…

warnings: volleyball!ellie x reader, 18+ mdni, curse words/cursing, pet names (doll), teasing, semi-proofread, awful volleyball terminology, parties, drinking, slightly drunk reader, smoking, sexual content, kissing, sorta dom and sub dynamic (?) but not really, uh “i hate you” kink, but that’s really it

authors note: note, i know little to like nothing about volleyball, but i can just imagine having like this sexual tension with your enemy, ellie, behind the net and it would be like everything. so uh- bear with me as i try to become a professional volleyball player writer. also i actually hate this so much, it was giving too much wattpad, so i clearly couldn’t finish it

˗ˋ.*✧·˚ ೃ࿔₊•

YOU WERE DRENCHED IN SWEAT, HEAD-TO TOE, STARING ANXIOUSLY AT THE SCORE BOARD UP AHEAD. you’re team has finally caught up, taking charge in the game once more. the score being twenty to twenty-three, your team falling behind by three. but you weren’t too worried. you’ve won the first two sets as if it was nothing, completely dominating the other team.

you let the volleyball in your hands bounce carelessly a few times, staring at the referee. she had been talking down with another ref about the following call, but the entire thing didn’t bother you. you needed the short moment to catch your breath. your coach had been keeping you in the entire night, with little to no breaks. this quick stoppage was much more then you needed.

the ref blew her whistle, singling that it was okay to continue play. your head nodded away from her, to catch your glaze on non other then ellie williams. number fucking seven.

the game entire game had felt more as a competition between the two of you. it had always been back to back with your arch nemesis. spiking balls right before she’d block them quick enough to stop them from going over the net.

every single time ellie would block or spike the ball, it made your insides boil. it was just flawless every single time she’d touch the ball. even if it meant chasing it down, she’d manage to bump the ball perfectly.

it just pissed you off.

you’ve managed to keep your eye on her the entire game and she hasn’t failed to keep eye contact with you too. when you were staring at her, her eyes were already looking darkly at you. even if it meant standing face to face net separating your guys intense glares.

you rubbed the ball against your jersey, keeping eye contact. ellie didn’t seem break her stare either. she rubbed her hands on her shoes, before squatting down in a ready position.

which pissed you off even more.

the way she was always ready for the ball, never messing up. when you stepped back into your serving position, you glanced at ellie one last time before jumping up to serve the ball, watching it quickly make its way towards her.

unsurprisingly, ellie bumped it up towards her team mate. your eyes followed the ball, watching a the ball lift carelessly on the air. ellie jumped up to spike the ball towards you, and you stayed standing, ready.

but right when the ball came flying down toward the ground, you weren’t quick enough to dive and get it. the other team jumped in excitement as they watched the ball fall right to the ground in front of you.

you groaned as the score went from twenty to twenty-three, to twenty to twenty-four. they were one point away from winning the entire set because you made one small mistake.

you rises from your stomach, bringing your team in for a quick huddle. "eyes on seven, she’s dangerous." you whispered toward your teammates, receiving nods from them. but it wasn’t enough. it was now ellie’s serve. and god did she have a killer serve. where she wanted the ball, it was getting there. and it just made you completely furious.

you watched ellie move to her position, having a stupid smirk on her face. you knew the ball was going to you. of course you did. she wanted you to screw up right here and make. your entire team lose this set. she wanted you to make a fool of yourself.

you wanted to feel ready, your body felt ready, but your thoughts were just crowded. you couldn’t stop thinking about the way ellie had been staring at you the entire game. like you were some dare.

it just made your blood boiling. everything about her made you go feral. her auburn hair, the way her sleeves were rolled up to reveal her tattooed arm, how stupid good her ass looked in the spandex’s, you just hated it.

hated her.

you heard your teammates shout your name and your mind quickly snapped back in time. but it was too late. the ball ellie had served had landed quickly on the ground, right beside you.

the crowded screamed as the opponent team took the set. but you watched as your teammates groaned and walked away towards the bench. you felt awful, walking back to gather your towel and bottled water, you couldn’t even look at your coach, but you knew she was staring at you long and hard.

"get your head in the game." you whispered to yourself as you walked towards the other bench, switching courts.

the other team was still gathering water bottles, so you stood, watching them, but more so ellie, who was taking her sweet old time. your eyes rolled when she stood right in front of you.

"intimidated?" she whispered, giving you a intense glare. you huffed watching as she let her brows wiggled. you wanted to chuck the ball into her face at the look at her, but you remained your sanity, letting her just walk off.

your coach yelled at you the entire time before the fourth set started. you knew you couldn’t think straight because of ellie.

you hated the idea of how intimidated you actually were, but you needed to play your game. you needed to play like you know how to play, and let the little thoughts to drift out of your mind.

but it didn’t help the you and ellie were finally on the same side after what? six plays.

her face was right in front of yours, the net separating you. your hands were up to the net while hers where down towards her side. a smirk played on her face as she waited for your teammate to serve the ball. score being ten to eight.

"got a little something on your shoe." you mutter to her, causing her to look down at her shoe. nothing appeared to be there, but when she looked back up, the ball had been on her side, in play.

if she was gonna distract you, why not play give her a taste of her own medicine. when your team earned the point, you all jumped to excitement, hugging each other in the process.

you watched as ellie laughed to herself, moving back to the side you too had been sharing. but the referee had paused the play causing you to groan, resting your hands on your hips.

ellie didn’t mind though. she loved this view of you. even if it meant her team had been losing by three points, she was younger tied at the sight of you. head over heels.

but you hadn’t know that. she hadn’t want you to know that.

"so have tables turned?" you then your head, earning a painful look fall across ellie.s face. with that, you felt your smirk rise. "are you intimidated now?" you inquire, eyebrows raising as you stepped closer to the net. ellie stood where she was, watching you step closer. ellie hands met towards the net twinging her fingers slightly. you watch her as she smirked at you, staring intensely at you. you couldn’t help but blush at the sight of her. you hated admitting it, but you knew ellie was hot. i mean look at her. she’s a walking hot shot.

"not intimidated," her head shook, looking between you and the referee. "distracted, doll."

your mouth literally hung open at the nickname. you hated yourself for even thinking the name was a way of flirting with you. you guys have been up each others asses since college ball have started. now in your junior year you believe she’s try and flirt with you? anyone would be foolish to think so.

"i’m not you doll." you whispered, hoping your teammates near you, wouldn’t hear. the ref had blew her whistle and ellie hadn’t said anything but just shrug, stepping back to regained some focus. you shake your head at her, turning to face away from her.

the rest of the set had just been the two of you exchanging looks, but keeping your focus hard enough to stay on track with the game. your coach had thought it was best to finally give you a break, catching how distracted you seemed. and as much as you hate sitting on the bench, you also thought sitting for the last few plays would be the best idea.

and not surprisingly, you in the bench caused the rest of the team to kinda fall apart. they got disorganized and needed their captain on the court, but your coach refused to put you back in. instead she let ellie’s team take the win, leading them into a final fifth set. then had she finally let you play once more.

it was a very frustrating final fifteen pints, but you guys managed to take the win, ending the set fifteen to ten. your entire team felt happy and excited as they wrapped up another win. but you couldn’t help but look at ellie’s frustration take over her. her eye brows were drawn together, lining up to shake hands.

your team made their way in line, saying good game to the team, you following last in line. as you shook hands with the opposite team, you felt yourself longing to shake ellie’s hand. usually you’d flip her off or say something foul to her in this moment, but the entire last set to you felt as some game to you. and not in the sense of a volleyball game, more so a flirting game.

deep down you felt as if you didn’t hate it, but you couldn’t let ellie know that. you may have won the match, but you knew you and ellie’s little game was still on.

"good game," you could recognize her voice from a mile away. your head looked up to see her walking over to shake your hand. you were going to raise yours to accept her hand shake, but you just crossed your arms. ellie couldn’t help but smirk at you bitchy tone. she lowered her hand and placed them on her hips, coping your tense posture.

"your a real bitch you know that?" ellie whispered, leaning into towards you slightly. you felt your body heat rise at the small gesture. you couldn’t piece together what exactly this girl made you feel, but the smallest things just made your heat boil.

her fingers slowly rises to your ponytail, giving it a small tug. you couldn’t stop looking at her the entire time her eyes just danced over your face. the entire moment felt as if nothing and nobody was surrounding you to. well not until she gave you a nudge. you snapped back into reality realizing you hate this girls guts.

you ran your hair through your ponytail, turning at the ends. "and you’re a tease." you whisper back to her. ellie’s face flashed with confusion as she stepped back slightly. "a tease? how so?"

"don’t play dumb, you’ve been eye fucking me the entire game, doll."

you hadn’t wanted to admit it out loud, but it just seemed to slip from your mouth quicker them lightning. however, ellie made no reaction to your comment. maybe a quiver to her lips, but her solid stance didn’t change. it made you frustrated in some way, but you kept yourself grounded.

"me?” a finger rose to her chest. "eye fucking you?" she responded, added a little devilish laugh. you simply just rolled your eyes, slightly turning over your shoulder to see your team start gathering together.

when you look back at ellie, her eyes are fixated on you. "well, i don’t care. i just beat your ass, good game." you begin to turn around, but ellie quickly grabs your upper arm, pulling you back to her. you gasp at the sudden contact.

your eyes scan hers before she quickly drops your arm from her grasp. you snatch your arm away giving her an irritated look. but her eyes were daring. "see," you whisper. "you’re a tease."

you wait a few seconds, waiting for her to say something. to your surprise she does. "and you’re still a bitch." she darted back, earning a look from you.

but you knew better. you ignoredher harsh comment. you reached your hand out, offering her a hand shake. she stares at it for a moment, before accepting it carefully. you shake it firmly, giving her a lazy smile.

her eyes swift you face as you lean closer. "if i’m such a bitch, do something about it." you whisper, breath glazing over her skin.

ellie was about to say something, but you quickly push her away, making your way back to your team, giving everyone claps and hugs. when you turned to look back at ellie. a smirk was on her face, cheeks read as ever.

you smile to yourself, letting your head turn away from ellie.

now you’ve won both games

this time you couldn’t hate your teammates for dragging you out. after the crazy game you just played, a few drinks at a college party didn’t seem to bad.

and it wasn’t for the first few hours.

you had shots around the table with your teammates, laughing and smiling as your body felt the drinks begin to take over. everyone had danced around the table, knocking bodies.

but the loud bounding cause your ears to bleed. your head had already been feeling fuzzy after the game, now a few seven drinks later, you had been spinning.

you turned to your closer teammate resting a hand on her shoulder to support yourself. "i’m gonna go catch a breath!" you shouted over the loud music. she simply nodded, but her mind hadn’t really processed what you said.

as you stumbled out towards the back door. your body quickly met with the cold autumn breeze. your friends insisted you wear the baby tee with the mini skirt, but it was way to cold for this.

you swung your arms around your arms, goosebumps filing your skin. "fuck." you whispered, looking straight ahead.

but as you heated footsteps step from around the corner, your entire body tensed up. a head peaked from the dark deck, revealing a freckled face.

when you saw ellie, you quickly felt yourself sober up. her presence was always so intimate. the way she stood, stared just felt like she had something more to say or do. like she was always buried down.

"what are you doing here?" you knew the comment came out meaner then intended, but ellie didn’t seem to care. she strutted her way closer to you, holding a pre rolled cigarette in her hands.

you eyed her as she stood beside you, before staring ahead. she had changed into more appropriate clothing. her legs were covered in tight jeans, firing around her ass perfectly. her shoulders were covered in a thick grey hoodie.

"it’s a party. everyone is invited." she responded to your past question. her hand tilted slightly, offering you the lit cigarette. but you just ignored.

ellie simply shrugged, taking another hit. "everyone that goes to school here is invited. seems to me you don’t check off that category."

"and what about it?" her eye brows were drawn together and you just wanted to scream. you hated how drawn to her looks you were, but her cocky personality made you want to shout.

"leave." you hissed pack at her, moving your face to her.

"no."

a laugh escaped your lips as you watched her smirk at you."you really piss me off." you huffed back, ignoring her dark eyes. ellie stared long at you before staring down at your outfit. "you know it’s fucking sixty degrees."

"you know u don’t remember asking."

ellie huffed at your childish behavior. you knew you were actually foolish, but also knew how she made you feel and that bothered you more than anything.

her very attractive looks made you want to do things god forbid. but every time she opened her fucking mouth, you were back at square one with her.

"talk to me," ellie whispered. you slowly turned you heat to meet hers, causing your face to lean closer to hers. "why do i tick you off so much?"

your eye brows drew together at her foolish question. she knew why you hated her. she was your biggest enemy on the court. she was better at the game then you, that’s why she ticked you off.

"because your a better player than me." you admitted, earning a smirk from ellie. "your entire personality makes me want to toss a ball at your big head."

ellie leaned on her heels, looking down at you. it was annoying one of her cocky intense stares at made your insides burn.

you were sick of this game, you caused yourself to look away. feeling stupid for even considering anything.

"you know," ellie replied. your head tilted slightly, but you weren’t giving her the upper hand. you remained your stare ahead, just letting ellie look at you. "i don’t hate you."

that made your head turn. she had to be fiat out lying because someone who doesn’t hate you, doesn’t tease and play like this to you. you remained slightly though. you watched as she let her cigarette burn out, while you waited for her to continue.

"this game we play, not referring to volleyball, i hate that. the intense little stares behind the net, the cocky attitudes, it just makes my blood boil."

a part of you enjoyed that you were on the same page, but you also hated it. knowing that you both feel this foolish connection terrified you in ways you couldn’t imagine.

and ellie just played it off as if it was some sort of joke.

"this. back and forth thing-" ellie raised her finger to point between you and her. "it ends now. we either say what we think needs to be said, or we cut cords, leaving things unsaid."

you knew exactly what she meant. and you wanted to say something more than anything, but you knew everything between you two was a game. who ever gave in first was the loser.

and you certainly knew it wasn’t going to be you, even if it meant leaving things unsaid.

you felt yourself look around you, noticing how quiet and alone you guys actually were. that scared you even more, knowing anything could happen and nobody would see or hear.

when you looked back at ellie, she was already looking at you, watching your eyes shift across the space around you. but everything felt so crowded inside you. your thoughts, surroundings, it just felt like a barricade ellie and you build that made you feel so surrounded.

you watched her eyes glance down towards your lips, before quickly meeting your eyes again. she was about to break first you knew it. so you took a deep breath, stepping closer to her shaky self.

"i told you what i wanted to say." you muttered, looking darkly at her parted lips. when you met back to her eyes, she was fighting every cord in her body to push against you and shut you up in any possible way.

"you frustrate me to the core. you have a cocky attitude that makes you think you just control everything around you. and you don’t, surprisingly." you let yourself breathe, stepping so close, you could feel ellie’s breath. "i hate you, i hate your eyes, your stupid attitude, your lack of empathy. i hate you."

you backed away from her, smirking up and down at her pissed look.

"you a bitch, you know?"

her comment came back at you like a bullet. even though she has reminded you several times, you still feel that hurt. but you sucked in a thick breath, crossing your arms.

you lick your dry lips for a moment, watching ellie eyes continue to anxiously look at your lips.

"then fucking do something about it, williams."

and before you knew it, her hands were on yours, pushing you against the deck railing. her lips smashed against yours, letting the crowded barrier fucking shatter.

you completely melted at the way her hand held your cheek, kissing you harder than you’ve ever been kissed before.

at first you felt the raging pain, her teeth biting your lip hard, but you couldn’t ignore the sensation building inside you, longing more. and ellie knew you loved it. your body was pushing against her as if time was running out. like if you pulled away, you guys would be back at square one. hating each other.

when you finally felt as if you needed air, ellie quickly moved her harsh kisses to your neck, sucking and biting down on your soft skin.

your breathing quickened at the feeling of her. your hands moving to hang carelessly against her neck, moving her closer to her.

ellie traveled her hands towards your ass, pushing you closer to the front of her jeans. you gasped at first, the feeling sending shivers down your core, but when she rolled her hips quick against you, you felt weak.

"fuck-" a whine left your mouth as she did it numerous times, holding the back of your thigh to wrap around her hip.

if someone had said you’d be dry fucking ellie outside of a college frat party, on a deck railing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

but here you actually are. clinging onto her as if she’s some drug you need to consume. her sending harsh kisses against your neck making you want more. need more.

your skirt rises up, exposing your underwear as ellie and your movements moved sloppy. her mouth moved from your neck, looking at the patches of purple spots she created.

a cocky smirk played on her face when she stopped rolling her hips, to look at you completely. your lips were parted, wanting them to be back on hers again. your skirt exposed your lower half, making you grow self conscious how fucked out you already looked and you hardly even did anything.

maybe it was the numerous drinks you already had, or maybe it was just the static feeling ellie made you feel. because the feeling was certainly neutral.

she tilted her head down towards your head as if she was leaving to kiss you again, but she just looked down, lips brushing together.

"tell me you hate me again." she whispered, daring. you brushed her head towards her, making your lips connect in a harsh embrace.

her tongue brushed against your lips before she pulled away once more. shaking her head. "tell me you hate me." she said, once again.

you groaned, as she let her hands travel down your skin. you finally came to since you guys were hardly alone when the load party music began to echo around you.

her hands stopped at your inner thigh, swung around her hip. she trailed circles there before meeting your eyes again. "say it."

you hated how easily you were about to give in. with ellie it was her in the lead, and you didn’t seem to hate it now that your standing, her between your legs.

"i hate you." you whisper, letting your hands around her neck, lower to cling on her shoulders. she kissed you hard when the filthy words escaped your mouth.

her hand had traveled closer to your core and a soft moan escaped pushing her mouth off yours. you wanted her to say something, do more, but ellie loved this.

"your so pretty when you make those filthy sounds." she whispered, close against your lips. your eyes looked down at her fingers escape beyond your sight, resting on your clothed skin.

your head tilted to the porch back down, growing worried that someone could walk out any second. ellie followed your glaze, noticing your anxious eyes.

"my car is parked out front." she acknowledged, meeting eyes with you. a smirk played on your face as you looked at her.

"what are you insisting, williams." you choked back, still catching your breath. ellie smiled at you, removing her hand. you froze at the loss of contact, but when her hand intertwined with yours, you couldn’t help but smile once more.

"follow me and you’ll find out, doll."

618 notes · View notes

0oolookitsme · 1 year ago

Text

Another One?

Type - A One-Shot!

Verse - Model!Harry x Fashion Designer!y/n

Word Count - 4k (she's a thick one y'all)

Warnings - A little bit of crying (subrry), cursing and well, smut.

A/N - Damn, this is the second longest smut piece I've ever written!

Kinks - Dry Humping, Mirror Sex, Mommy Kink, Over Stimulation.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

Please rb to share!

It was a formal get-together organized by a friendly colleague of Y/n's. "I've met some new professionals, and I think it's going to be helpful for the newbies to make some connections," she had told Y/n while they were having lunch together. Y/n had only appreciated her idea in response, saying that she too would love to chat with them.

When it came to the decision of a 'plus-one', everyone knew she was going to bring Harry. After all, it had almost been a year since they went public with their relationship. The party was formal, but it was held on the rooftop of a restaurant so everyone had settled on dressing up pretty casually.

Most men were seen wearing button-down shirts with pants or jeans, and women were mostly in flowy dresses. And Y/n was one of them – wearing a one piece long-maxi dress. Its sleeves came right till her elbow, the shoulders were puffed. It was plain black in colour and she had worn her platinum jewelry and white heels at the end. To match her Harry was wearing a shirt that faded from white on the top, to black at the bottom. Shedding leaves were patterned on the shirt, and he had styled it with a pair of retro-black jeans – tying the outfit together by wearing some black Converse that had white stripes on them.

She had french-twisted her bun, and Harry had his hair tousled to the side. They had left the house with Harry trying to seduce Y/n into a quickie, and Y/n sliding her hands on his chest, and leaning in to promise in his ear that she'd reward him if he'd be good for her at the party.

Both of them knew that she didn't need to tell him that – he knew his way around at any gathering. But, just out of habit, Y/n had radiated some dominance and almost called him a good boy. Which led to Harry's mind being in a frenzy all night.

They talked to people together, Harry's hand on her lower back as his thumb rubbed against her clothed-skin. As the time passed, Y/n had fled away from him and was chatting with other people while he was stuck in a group of men who he had no interest in talking with.

He was, at the end of the day, an introverted guy. Sure he walked on runways for the biggest of brands, for the millions of people to watch but he just couldn't shed down the shyness of his personality. And, y/n loved that.

He was an introvert, she was an extrovert so they balanced each other out perfectly. But a lot of the times she felt like she was leaving Harry out, abandoning him whenever they went out with many people. But Harry swore he wasn't bothered by it, well, most of the time he wasn't. But tonight wasn't like the most and he was very bothered by all of these people around him. He just wanted to be alone with his girlfriend, but he knew that she wouldn't want to leave this party due to the 'important' people that were here.

So, he excused himself out of the group chat and beelined his way to Y/n, who was clearly faking a laugh. "Hi," he mumbled as he kissed her jaw, his hand immediately sneaking around her waist. He needed to be touching her to stay calm or he would surely lose his mind by all of this overwhelmness.

"Hi," she genuinely smiled back at him, kissing his cheek in return. "Meet Harry, my boyfriend," she introduced him to the lady she was talking to. "Harry, this is Ms. Holly, an expert-tailor for Gucci," she said regarding the lady.

Holly extended her arm to shake hands with him. Harry dreaded having to touch anyone else, but out of politeness, he did. "Of course I know him!" She exclaimed and then added a brag, "the world renowned model – Harry Styles." She wasn't really exaggerating, it was true – still a blush creeped up Harry's neck as he mumbled a small 'thank you'. She turned her head at the call of her name and muttered, "it was very nice to meet you guys," with a wide smile before walking away.

Harry, on the other hand, was getting impatient. He did not want to be near anyone else but Y/n right now. "How long is it going to take?" Was the first thing Harry asked her, moving closer to her so that their bodies were touching.

"I think we'll be having dinner soon, and should leave after that. Why?" She asked him, wrapping her hand around his bicep. "Is something wrong?" She continued when his eyes flicked away from hers.

"No, everything's fine. Just wanna go home," he muttered lowly, suddenly remembering that there were people around who had caused him to straighten his back.

Y/n understood just then that he wasn't feeling it tonight. She knew it could be hard to socialize sometimes, especially as an introvert. And, over time she had realized that Harry wasn't quick to voice his discomfort in public until he was feeling too overwhelmed.

"Okay, let's just bid our goodbyes quickly," she said, kissing his temple.

Then Harry's eyes went wide. "W-what?" He stuttered. "I can wait a little longer, I know this is important for you," he assured her.

"Well, it isn't really important for me, per se. After all, this was hosted for the new employees, and I know most of these people," she said with a slight roll of her eyes.

Harry knew that if this really was important, Y/n wouldn't be this dismissive about it and ready to leave. And, while the host was a good friend of theirs and would understand, Harry still wanted to respect her and well, it was only a matter of time now.

He'll just spend it listening to people chat and laughing every once in a while. "Its only going be a little more. We've stayed for so long, might as well stay till the end," Harry shrugged.

"Are you sure? Because I'm ready to go home," Y/n told him, feeling a little unsure when he replied with a 'yes'. "Okay, but tell me when you want to leave, yeah?"

"Mhm," he hummed, pecking her lips before putting on a wide grin on seeing a couple approaching them. He knew that if he were to behave good right now, he'll be rewarded for it at the end of the night, in his bedroom that he shared with Y/n.

He brushed his uneasiness under the rug right then and there, and decided that if he's going to stay for longer, he might as well make it fun.

That's when all the sneaky touches and grazes started. Brushing up against her bum, or kissing her jaw, or spreading his legs when he sat in front of her. He knew that she was catching up with him, and he loved seeing her ignore his antics and interact professionally with the people who thought licking her ass would get them somewhere.

"Don't make me take you home, Harry," she leaned in to whisper in his ear, smiling at him later to make sure that the people around didn't think they were having any issues.

It was a warning, but Harry was suddenly feeling way too confident. He proceeded to tease her throughout the night. When it did come down to dinner, he was hoping he would get her alone but Y/n invited a couple over and decided to mingle with them instead. Now, she was doing it intentionally.

If he was going to act like a brat, then he was going to be treated like one.

He kept brushing his thigh against her, kept slipping his hand way too low on her back and even kept a hand on the inside of her thigh as they chatted and ate desert.

At the end of the night, Y/n made sure to stay as long as she could. She knew it'd frustrate Harry, but that's what he gets for acting up. "Please, need you," he whispered defeatedly in her ear, again moving closer to her in a manner that their sides touched. The rebelliousness in him was gone once he wasn't in the spotlight anymore.

A smirk pulled up on her lips, as a woman walked away from her and towards the car her husband was sitting in. "Yeah, what do you need, baby? She asked him, just filling up time knowing that he wasn't going to be 'rewarded'.

"Anything. Anything from you, I promise I'll be good," he cried silently, his hold on her hand tight as they walked to their car.

"What good will be being good now? You've been nothing but a brat for most of the night," Y/n said as a matter of fact, sitting in the driver's seat of the car as Harry slipped in the passenger side, feeling dominated and fuzzy.

"But I was also good! I waited for the night to be over, and I socialized! I was good!" Harry shifted in his seat to partially face her and insisted. "I behaved well!" Frowning, he said, feeling like he was being injusticed.

Y/n shrugged again, and Harry was feeling more and more agitated. "Who are you trying to convince, baby?" She asked, looking straight ahead at the road.

"I- but I was good!" Harry whined this time, wanting some sort of acknowledgement for his good behaviour.

"Oh? So was it me who sat with my legs spread when people were watching? Or was I brushing up against you as you talked to some people who were ecstatic to be in the same room as you? Ok, wait up – was it me who had my hand on your thigh as you sat with your new colleague on a dinner table. Well, it surely was me who's hand was slipping lower and lower down your back, wasn't it?" Y/n looked away from him once she was finished, a victorious smirk on her face as finally Harry had nothing to say.

She heard him sigh and saw from the corner of her eyes as he shifted again and sat straight this time, peeping out of the window. Just because she didn't want to push him too far, she placed her hand on his thigh, rubbing her thumb against it as they drove without any more talking, with music playing on medium volume.

Harry never once looked at her again but Y/n wasn't fazed by it. She had seen him like this before, and she wasn't going to melt at this little drama and not punish him. He was going to get what he deserved, whether good or bad.

Harry felt she was being unfair – he deserved something after that long night. Yes, he didn't behave well for the whole of night, but what about the parts when he was a good boy?

Once they reached the garage, she shifted her hand from his thigh and placed it behind his seat as she backed inside once the automatic doors opened. She didn't miss the way his head turned so quickly at the loss of her touch.

"C'mon, I can't wait to get to bed." Y/n said as she got out of the car and in that moment, Harry's stomach dropped.

He trailed behind her, feeling low because she just denied touching him but somewhere inside him, something told him that it wasn't going to be this easy. He watched the sway of her bum as she climbed the stairs ahead of him, feeling painfully hard in his pants. He was sure he had a wet patch on his underwear by now.

He sat on the bed after changing and saw as Y/n paced around the room, removing her jewelry and make up or taking down her hair and changing her clothes or putting her purse away. And, Harry's pretty sure this is the longest it has ever taken Y/n to unwind.

When finally she came to the bed, Harry couldn't help but curl around her like a little puppy. He layed his head in her lap as she went through some of her mails, making circles on her thigh with his index finger.

Y/n faked a yawn above him and made sure he realized that she had put her phone away. And just when he did, he sat up straight, looking at her with pleading eyes. "Please, mommy," he whispered, his eyes glossing over. "Need you."

That's when she knew it was go time.

"Why don't you use my thigh, baby? I'm too tired tonight to give you anything more," she said as she slipped down the bed, raising her thigh up a little.

Harry only nodded frantically, getting up on his knees to unbutton his sweats. "Keep them on, don't want the bed to get dirty," he heard her say and her slight coldness was starting to get to him as he felt more and more sensitive by each second.

"Y-yes mommy," he said before putting one of his knees on the other side of her thigh, and lowering on it. The moment he felt slight pressure on his dick, he let out a whiny noise as he built a pace, going back and forth on her thigh. His head was thrown back and somewhere, he was waiting for Y/n's hands. Anywhere, he just wanted her to touch him.

But when he opened his eyes, he saw that she had picked her phone up again felt pathetic to still be grinding. But he couldn't stop himself, not when he felt so sensitive and felt like comming already. So, he used his own hands to pinch his nipples and travel on his abdomen and neck – they weren't as soft as hers but felt good nevertheless.

"Oh fuck," he breathed as his body felt hotter and his pace of rubbing increased and then broke. It was hard to keep it the same when he felt pleasure getting more intense and he kept on touching his body.

"Stop."

His hips stuttered once, but they didn't stop. "Hm- w-what?" He asked, still going.

"I said, stop. Won't say it again," Y/n said from below him, her voice stern and her phone gone.

Harry stopped, but his hips were still twitching every other second. He looked down when her hands held his hips in place, and met her furious eyes. He got off of her when she lowered her leg and watched in despair when she got off the bed.

She moved to braid her hair in front of the mirror and Harry felt like he was going to lose it. "I need to come, please. I'll do anything," Harry begged, his eyes glazed over and mind fuzzy. He was aching so badly, he just needed to release.

Y/n walked back to the bed, and offered him her hand to help him get off the bed. Her brows were raised at the corners, and her eyes had fallen into angry slits.

Harry met the floor on wobbly legs, and kept holding her hand as she took the two of them to the bathroom. He wasn't even confused, he just wanted to come.

"I'm going to punish you in front of the mirror, so you can see just how bratty and pathetic you are." Her tone was firm and slightly disapproving, as she switched on the lights.

Harry was pulsing by now, sure that he was going to burst if she even brushed against his body. "Sit." She commanded him and he slid atop the counter which had a mirror in front of it. Right now, his back was faced the mirror. "Back on that wall," Y/n ordered him again, tapping her foot impatiently as she watched him dumbly figure out the obvious position.

"Took my dumb baby too long to just sit?" She teased him, lowering her head to look at him when he looked down. "Why so shy now?" She cooed at him, raising his chin by her thumb and index finger.

"Please," he whispered again, looking at her with doe eyes and wobbly lips.

Y/n only hummed in response, brushing away the waves that had fallen and stuck on this forehead. "Begging is a good look for you," she told him, a small smile on her face as she wiped the sweat off of his skin and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips.

"I'll give you one more chance to be a good boy," she said and watched his eyes light up. "Spread your legs for me."

And Harry did, very eagerly so. He turned to look at himself in the mirror on her command and saw 'just how pathetic he looked'. His cock sat on his tummy, achingly hard – its tip an angry red and beads of precum leaking from its slit.

"See, what a mess you are and I haven't even touched you once," she bragged with a proud smirk. "Looking so fucked out already," she teased, chuckling when his cheeks turned red.

"You wanted to come, right? Think you've earned it?" She asked him, her hands behind her back. She scoffed at his silence, "sure you did."

Bending towards him, she placed her hands on his thighs. "So, you will come." She said as if she had it planned all along. And before Harry could do or feel anything else, she was spitting in her hand. "Colour?" She asked, and held his cock when he mumbled "green." She gave him a few strokes before leaning further in to press a kiss right on his slit.

He hissed at the feeling, and already started bucking into her hands. "Sit still or I will stop," he heard her say and placed his bum down again, feeling overwhelmed will all the pleasure. He felt so sensitive down there, that he was ready to come already.

Y/n wrapped her mouth around his cock, and started sucking on it. She didn't go all the way down, instead pumped the length that wasn't in the mouth, with her hand. The precum kept leaking in her mouth and she kept spurting little bits of it out, watching as it slid down his girth. She was having fun, watching as he ached to move but was wise enough to not fuck up his one chance of getting a release.

She felt his thighs start to shake and his veins grow more prominent under her hold, and knew he was going to cum.

"Fuck, fuck- m-mommy, gonna cum-" he stuttered. So she sucked just a bit harder, swept a kitten lick once more on his slit and he was shooting ropes of white cum in her mouth. And, when she backed away just after a few, some of the cum went on her chin and the rest went on her hand.

Tera were slipping down Harry's cheeks as he quivered. He felt way too sensitive now but he also felt as he was electrified. Ecstasy and bliss flowed in his body at the release and he felt like he could come again just by reminiscing on the pleasure he was feeling.

But he felt too sensitive so when he opened his eyes, and saw Y/n wipe the cum off her chin and hold it out for him to lick, he did and had her finger come out clean.

"Such a good little pup, aren't you?" She praised him, wiping the tears away. A little pout formed on her lips, "came so fast – barely even touched you," she said and Harry knew the pout was to mock him.

She moved away and wiped some sweat off of her own forehead. "Think I want a taste one more time, do you think you can give it to me?"

"Too sens-sensitive, mommy," Harry whispered.

"But you wanted to come baby – you thought you'd earned it!" Y/n claimed, looking at him with a surprised expression. "I think you should come once more, after all, you were so good for me all night," she shrugged with a chuckle.

Harry felt mocked and taunted and as much as he wanted to be offended, he didn't feel so. Instead, he felt blood rush to his dick yet the tip was so sensitive that the slight breath of Y/n was making him wince.

"Gonna be your g-good boy, mommy," Harry choked out.

"Cry all you want, baby– I'm starting to think you're quite enjoying this," Y/n said with her gaze settled on Harry's hard on. "Such a brat," she teased him, looking at his flushed face.

Y/n leaned in again, this time she was kneeled on the floor as she took him in all the way. His tip went a little past the back of her throat and she gagged, before pulling him out completely.

She wiped the saliva off her chin by the back of her hand as she looked up at the way he had thrown his head back. "Don't close your eyes, baby. Look at me," she calmly ordered him.

Still looking up at him, she took his cock in her mouth again. Now, she going all the way in with every bob of her head. Saliva mixed with his precum trickled down her chin and on the marble floor as gagging and gurgling sounds filled the bathroom.

She still hadn't looked away, her eyes had glossed over and Harry felt the knot in his belly moving lower and lower. God, she was being so messy he felt like bursting at the seams.

She backed off for a minute to breath. "What was that?" She asked him when she saw his mouth move. "Can't hear you over all the noise you're making, baby," she said, taunting him again.

"So- so good mommy," Harry heaved, his lips bitten and face looking as if it was sprayed with water.

"Aw, you're out of breath! Was that too fast baby?" She laughed, getting up on her knees again. The floor below her was a bit slippery now because of her sweat and the mess she had made. She smiled when Harry chuckled and shook his head lightly before she took him in her mouth again.

She sucked on his sensitive tip for a bit before taking him in, inch by inch with each bob of her head.

"Jusus- fuck I'm gonna come again," she heard Harry groan, and increased her pace. She reached his base, the baby hair tickling her nose as she stayed like that before backing off. She took a huge breath in before going all the way down again.

The tip of his cock hit the back of her throat again and again, and the gurgling sounds were back. Her hand crawled up his chest before she started pinching and twisting his nipple, while her other hand played with his tight balls.

"O-oh mommy! I'm cumming, I'm cum-cumming," Harry shrieked, heaving heavily and shaking before he felt himself start to release in her mouth.

Y/n though wasn't stopping which caused the cum to dribble down her chin along with her saliva. The floor below her was covered in the mess she had made and when she finally took her mouth off of him, she had completely milked him out and immediately sat back on the floor.

"Fuck, that was good," she chuckled, breathing heavily. Some of the hair strands had fallen out of her braid, and framed her face while the white t-shirt she had been wearing was drenched in sweat and her saliva, making her boobs quite visible. "Another one, baby? Think you deserve one more?" She laughed.

Harry remained limp atop the counter, heaving with his eyes closed and a small grin on his mouth. His hair was sticking on his forehead again and lips were bitten into a sharp pink colour. "Can never earn that mouth of yours," he laughed dryly, shaking his head with all his might.

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harry-styles-obsessed · 2 years ago

Text

Don’t you call him baby

Request: hi! I’ve been obsessed with the song ‘cherry’ lately and was wondering whether you could write something about it? I’m so hyper fixed on it and AH I just need something smutty and angsty if possible? Thank you!!

A/n: I haven’t mentioned it but I went for a job interview… and… I got the job!!! Hooray!!

Minors please do not interact! 18+ only. Thank you.

Warnings: smut, exes, toxicity, mention of arguments, angst… jealous Harry. Protective Harry. Dominant Harry. Degrading/ praise. Cheating kinda? Rough… as well. Very sexual scenes. (Make up sex pretty much) if this isn’t your thing/ it makes you uncomfortable please scroll past. But if you read and are easily effected by some strong/ tense scenes please read at your own discretion. Much love, A. x

Harry styles x fem! Reader

Inspirations from cherry:

don’t you call him baby

did you know I still talk to them?

—

“How is she?” His voice cut through the silence, Harry had decided to meet up with one of your closest friends. It took a lot to convince her but she eventually gave in to his constant requests of knowing how you were doing. Noa sat opposite Harry her chin resting on her knuckles as she gazed at him “harry I know you care about her… but y/n wants to move on. It’s time to move on.” She spoke calmly and sensibly. She never got involved between drama or toxic relationships but you had been constantly stressing over the fact that Harry was so bluntly concerned about you. You hated it. In fact you despised him and wished he would go and find a new girl to date… but Harry didn’t want that. He didn’t want a new girl. He wanted you. “I know, Noa.” He muttered to her his hands rubbing against each other slightly before he sighed “is she okay though? In herself? I haven’t seen her in a while…”

Noa stared at the man, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt and believe he only wanted the best for you. “She’s okay.” She nodded her head smiling, “she’s happier.” Those words tore him apart, selfishly so, you were happier without him? That alone was difficult to comprehend yet he forced a smile “that’s good.” Noa nodded her head “yeah… she misses you though. I’m sure you both miss each other. But she’s moved on… and you have to as well.” Harry should’ve listened- but those words but she’s moved on made his heart plummet. What did she mean by that? Did you have a new boyfriend? Someone who made you happier than ever? Was Harry truly not enough for you? He felt jealousy creeping up within him yet on his perfectly sculpted face was nothing but calmness. But under that was a storm brewing.. messy and huge. “She’s got a boyfriend?” He soon asked gawking at her and Noa gazed at him, clearly not wanting to discuss anymore and Harry quickly cut her off before she could’ve said anything else:

“You know what. Never mind… I’m sorry it’s none of my business.” he smiled falsely before shaking his head “it was nice meeting up with you again. We’ll have to do it some other time… yeah?” Or in better words- we’ll meet up to talk about y/n more. Harry didn’t like to admit it but he was a tad bit crazy. But in a way that he adored you and loved you… so much so no one else could love you the way he loved you… he was frankly obsessed with you. You were the one who made him happiest. The one to make his whole world light up around him… you dragged him out of the darkest pits of hell and saved him. You both had history with each other and that was clear. He missed you. It angered him that you had moved on so quickly but he had decided then and there that he wasn’t going to let you live that down… he would make you realise all over again just how much you missed him… all of him.

And so that’s exactly how it played out. Harry still had a key to your apartment from when you were together and so he allowed himself in before situating himself on your bed laying against the headboard as he simply awaited for you to stumble upon him. He wasn’t sure how you would react… maybe scream at him? Hit him? Punch him? But he found himself praying that you would kiss him and tell him you loved him still. But love wasn’t that easy now was it? He was a jealous man but he refused to see his jealousy. You didn’t even split from each other because of anything horrible like cheating or whatever- it was just a dumb argument. But seeing it now it was incredibly stupid and if Harry could’ve turned back time then he would’ve. All he wanted for you was for you to be happy.

About twenty minutes passed, you had just finished up a small date with your new boyfriend. You loved him. You truly did. But he wasn’t Harry. You missed Harry terribly, neither of you spoke to each other and every day you found yourself wanting him more and more. You missed the smell of his cologne, the way he would run his fingers through your hair… you just missed him. A soft sigh left your lips your key held in your hand as you slowly pushed the key into the keyhole before unlocking the door and opening it. You shrugged your jacket off, hanging it up and locking the front door before heading straight for your bedroom. You were tired and just wanted to sleep… but you missed Harry. Sleep usually helped ease your mind but no matter what it would always be difficult. You were craving his love, his attention, his touch… all of him. But that was so wrong, wasn’t it? You slowly walked into your room before freezing at the sight your eyes widening, lips slightly parting as you stared at the man on your bed. The man you still adored. You blinked, a shaky breath leaving your lips. “Hi,” he spoke with a smile but you just stared unable to react before eventually you shook your head “Harry you need to leave.” You murmured softly but the way his eyes travelled up and down your body subtly made your heart flip upside down your breath catching in your throat. “You want me to leave?” He asked raising his brows slightly “Harry please…” he slowly stood up from the bed as he walked towards you “you’re just saying that.” He murmured gently his eyes searching yours that had a look of need, urgency and fire in them “I know you. I love you. I want you.” Your lips remained parted and you stared at him in shock… he wanted you? What did he mean by that? “What do-“ “I mean I really… really want you.” The look in his green eyes told you it all, your wide doe like eyes widening even further before you shook your head lightly “I can’t Harry. I’ve got a boyfriend…” you spoke quietly and the man smiled slightly “I’m aware of that, sweetheart…” but before you could’ve even asked how he knew he was already talking again “he doesn’t give you what you need, does he? He doesn’t fuck you long and hard right? He doesn’t grab you by the throat and tell you who you belong to. Does he?” His eyes bored into yours your breathing now more frantic, your stomach fluttering dangerously before his slender ring adorned fingers reached up gently grabbing a hold of your chin before he leaned in looking more deep into your eyes “does he?” You blinked your eyes, breathing faster now before you shook your head an accomplished smirk forming on those pretty lips of his, “do you want that? Do you need that? Hm you pretty thing?” And you found yourself nodding frantically feeling butterflies travel elsewhere throughout your entire body, some fluttering down straight into your already throbbing heat, eyes wide as you clenched your thighs together attempting to be subtle about it whilst also attempting to add enough pressure to take the edge off of it.

“Good thing I’m here then” he spoke smiling before he pulled you in roughly his lips colliding with yours in a hot passionate kiss, the kisses were slightly sloppy, your hands resting against the sides of his neck as he soon wrapped his arms around your waist gripping onto you tightly, his fingers soon sliding underneath your T-shirt which he soon slid up your body before discarding it on the floor, which were then followed by your jeans his hands gliding up and down your body skilfully, creating all those little goosebumps which had your knees weak, his lips remained connected to yours before he trailed the sloppy kisses down to your neck leaving open mouthed kisses against your soft skin before he pulled away gazing into your eyes “get on the bed. Get comfortable.” Those words alone had another flurry of butterflies consume your stomach and you rather quickly got onto the bed, backing up until your back was against the headboard your hungry eyes remaining on his “good girl, I see you can follow orders hm?” See how long that lasts… your eyes remained on him trying to guess what he was going to do next but you watched as he remained standing still, hands lightly crossed over his chest his eyes scanning shamelessly all over you watching how your chest raised and fell so angelically whereas your thighs clenched together so incredibly tightly. He didn’t speak, allowing you to listen to your heavy breathing and indefinitely the sound of your heart racing in your ears. He found it adorable how your cheeks were already flushed…. He hadn’t even started and you were already a mess. “Oh my poor pathetic baby, hm?” A soft chuckle left his lips before he walked closer to the bed until his knees were touching against the end of it “reach down.” He demanded you feigning a slight confused look. “Don’t be stupid, darling. Use that pretty head of yours… you know what I’m asking of you.” You remained still. Eyes on him your breathing increasing all over again before he smirked “fine. Play with yourself.” Those words made your eyes widen, but your hand, like it was being controlled by a puppeteer slowly crept down, your hand moving your panties to the side your fingers immediately getting to work. You were already soaked… embarrassingly so. Your head lightly tilted backwards, lips parting as a low gasp left your lips your fingers gliding teasingly up and down, before one started circling around your clit a whimper leaving your lips.

Harry’s hungry eyes remained on you, watching as you played for him, watching with careful eyes. Listening to your reactions… “mhm just like that sweetheart. Just like that.” He spoke softly his lips parted as he just watched you play for him. “You sensitive baby?” His tone was accusing, your brows furrowed slightly as you were too lost in your own pleasure. Usually your fingers didn’t help you whatsoever but with Harry just watching it made the moment more intense. More insane. Incredibly hot. You didn’t respond, making the man tilt his head to the side “hm? Is that a no? Darling you know that I know you. You cant fool me…” he watched your brows furrow deeper and deeper and he smirked before slowly walking round to the edge of the bed where his large hand soon wrapped around your wrist, stopping you from toying with yourself before he used two of his fingers to drag up and down your slit, your hips jolting and he smirked cockily staring down at you, your eyes glossy from the ceasing of pleasure “you are sensitive” he analysed gently before chuckling gently “how many times?” His tone was dangerous and your lower lip trembled “I-I don’t know…” you whispered softly and he stared deeply into your eyes “so you played with yourself… yesterday? Did you?” Your cheeks became flushed again and he chuckled “darling don’t go shy on me. It’s okay if you did…” his tone was so comforting but you knew him as much as he knew you. “I did… but…” you paused and he raised a brow “but?” He trailed off and you studied his eyes “I played whilst thinking of you.”

Those words stunned the man yet they also turned him on that much more the bulge in his jeans larger, making his jeans more uncomfortable. “Jesus Christ baby…” he whispered before he abruptly and without warning grabbed a hold of your hips, pulling you to the edge of the bed so your hips were dangling off of the edge before he helped pull your panties off his knees soon buckling as he knelt down, pulling your legs to rest over his shoulders arms locking around your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer “don’t you dare close your eyes. Look at me. Got it?” You nodded your head furiously, feeling his breath fan against your sopping cunt “verbal sweetheart c’mon” he cooed out and you whimpered “yes.. yes!” He smiled large hands gripping onto your thighs before he lowered his mouth down to your aching core “what a good girl hm?” He spoke, before his licked a stripe up your slit a low groan leaving his lips before his lips wrapped around your clit, tongue starting to flick mercilessly against it as he began sucking against it slightly your head tilting backwards in awed making the man you dream about slap your thigh slightly reminding you to keep your eyes on him- your eyes locking with his as he stared deeply into your soul. Whilst doing that, his fingers paid close attention to the hole that clenched around nothing before his slid one of his fingers in beginning to thrust in and out slowly and carefully, your eyes squeezing shut “y/n…” he growled out sending vibrations throughout you and you moaned out, yet your head flew forwards eyes locking with his again, a second finger being eased in, his fingers thrusting in and out steadily and slowly- curling ever so slightly hitting that spot within you making your back arch slightly from the fact that you had been so touch starved recently and you were now getting what you wanted. Exactly what you wanted. His eyes pierced into your own and you panted, he felt the way you clenched around him and instantly quickened his pace soft whines leaving your lips “louder” he demanded, your whimpers turning into loud moans as your hips attempting to buck up into his mouth and fingers yet from the grip he hand on your thighs you stood no chance.

“h-harry I-I’m gonna-“ you felt the coil tighten to the point you knew it was inevitably going to break, but all that came to a agonisingly teasing halt as Harry stopped. Your desperate body writhing, attempting to get more of his touch. “Ah ah… you don’t get to cum. Not just yet.” His eyes bored into yours and he smirked your flushed face contorted with need, before a little chuckle left his lips “tell me why you want to? Why you deserve to, hm?” Your eyes glared into his hungrily that soft smirk on his perfectly sculpted face “i-I’ve been good… i- I just need you…” you whined out in that whiny voice that he loved so much, his head soon tilting wanting to hear more of it “and? Come on baby, sooner you get it over with sooner I can make you feel good…” he was so arrogantly calm about it all, yet under all of that facade he was wanting to fuck you hard. You breathed heavily, panting, eyes squeezing shut as moans of need left your lips before you panted out a very soft: “I love you…”

And that was all he needed to hear before he tapped your thigh three times with his index finger, asking for you to move, and so you did- laying on your back on the bed. You watched as he took his belt off, his clothes being discarded hurriedly but rather lazily all at the same time your mouth practically watering at the sight of him before he clambered on top of you, lips smashing against yours, your lips moulding with his- connecting like the last piece of a puzzle before he aligned his cock with you before he thrusted in, your eyes instantly rolling to the back of your head, your legs locking around his waist- nails digging into his back as you panted heavily “fuck fuck fuck” you whined out, soft grunts leaving his lips his face buried slightly into the crook of your neck his hair a mess making him look that much more hot “feel so good” you spoke breathing heavily as he found a perfect rhythm the only sounds being a mixture of both of your moans and skin slapping against skin. He left kisses against your neck, hickeys being littered all over your warm silky skin. “Don’t call him baby again… don’t… don’t…” he spoke through slight grunts “do you understand me? Don’t want you seeing him again.” His tone was dangerous, possessive and needful, you nodded your head weakly your walls clenching desperately around him your nails scratching into his back “good girl. Good girl.”

“Who makes you feel this good?” “You do Harry…” your voice was pathetically weak from the pleasure rocketing throughout you and soon enough that coil was tightening all over again, his thrusts had become more sloppy and his moans were growing louder. His lips connected with yours, his head slightly pulling back making a string of saliva pull from both of your lips before snapping as he kissed you again “cum…” he groaned out against your lips and just like that the euphoria wrapped around both you and him your moans being muffled by his lips, his loud moans soon too being muffled as he dug his teeth into your shoulder, his thrusts continuing- helping you through your high before he stopped, body slumped against yours, heart to heart- bodies hot and sweaty your lips slightly swollen from how hard and rough he had kissed them but you didn’t care… the pleasure didn’t stop. It was continuous. But you loved it…

His green eyes soon met yours and you smiled lazily up at him his hand soon cupping against your cheek “love you so much” he muttered softly and you smiled pressing a gentle kiss to his lips “love you too…” your eyes searched his before he kissed you again “missed you.” He murmured softly and to say those words were highly reciprocated was an understatement. You both missed each other terribly… and finally… you were back together again. Finally.

Literally my first time writing long smut so please excuse how terrible it is😭 hope you liked it! Anyways if you’d all like a part two or another smutty story then lmk! Or just send in a request! All the love always, Amber x

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cinemastyles-blog · 1 year ago

Text

And Scene.

Summary: Y/N brings Harry to her set where she's shootings a new movie and has to perform a scene that makes Harry very, very jealous [and an asshole].

Warnings: SMUT 18+, strong language, dominant/asshole Harry, jealous Harry, unprotected sex, creampie, hair pulling, oral (m), fingering, dirty talk, filth

Not a request // not edited yet

FRAT BOY HARRY

"You're coming?!" You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Harry usually never has time to come to set with you since his tour is also happening.

"Dates lined up babe. I'm excited to come watch you do your thing." He walks over to you, who's still in bed, and sits down.

"Oh gosh. Now I'm nervous." You laugh, "If I mess up, you're going to have to leave."

He sighs, "Fine, but if you get nervous, just picture me in my underwear."

You look at him, "But, I think you're so sexy in your underwear."

He shrugs and laughs while shaking his head, "Then I don't know what to tell you, but come on. We're going to be late."

He pulls the covers off of you and you groan, "Okay. Fine."

——

Harry sits in the corner, observing your hair and makeup being done. He smiles when Michelle spins you towards him.

"What?" You ask with a shy smile.

He shakes his head, "You just look very pretty."

You smile and Jill leans forward, "Thank you, Harry." He smiles and nods, "Yes, Jill. You did a very nice job."

"Hey, y/n." The director, Lance, walks in, "You have a second?"

You look up at him, "Yep, what's up?" He glances towards Harry and back at you, "Listen, I want to cha- we'll, I want to add something to the scene we're shooting today."

"Okay?" You close your eyes for Jill to apply some more eyeshadow.

"I think you and Chris should do the sex scene."

You see Harry tense up behind him and you sigh, "Lance, I already told you I'm no-"

"I talked to him and he agrees that this will make the movie.." Lance cuts you off, "You'd just need to ta-"

"She said no." Harry says standing up.

Lance chuckles and you glance at Jill and Michelle. Jill nods and she leaves quickly, probably to get security.

"Listen, Harry. I don't care if you're in the biggest boy band of the world. You're not in my movie." Lance turns back towards you and Harry moves in between you and him.

You look up at Harry and sigh, "Lance, give me a minute."

"I'll give you five."

You wait for Lance to leave before looking up at Harry, "Let me talk to him okay. I talked him down once I can talk him down again."

Harry stares down at you for a few seconds before he blinks and shakes his head, "I'm not comfortable with it either."

You already made up your mind, you were just trying to find the right time to tell Harry.

Waiting until the day you're supposed to shoot it was definitely not it.

"Let me talk to him."

——

A little while later, you make your way back to Harry.

"So? Did he give you any issue?" Harry asks standing up and walking over to you. You sigh quietly and decide that right then and there you're telling him.

"You're doing it?" Harry steps back, his jealous anger becoming more obvious, "Why do yo-"

"Because if I don't, then I'm fired, Harry. I need this role." You blurt out, "I don't have to take anything off. I just have to act like I do."

"And you have to act like you have sex." He snorts and rolls his eyes.

"What? That's funny?" You cross your arms and tilt your head, "Mr. Styles, you sound so jealous right now."

He shakes his head, "No."

"You most certainly do and honestly.." you walk over to him, "It's very hot."

You see him glance at you but still doesn't work.

You run your hand up his torso, "Only you know what I sound like in bed." You move around to press your chest against his back, "Only you know the right buttons to push."

You can feel his muscles flex under your touch and you move around to the front of him, looking up at you slide your hands down to the loops of his pants, "Your dick is the only dick I ever want inside of me."

He grabs you and pushes you back against the wall, "I'm going to be so pissed."

"So take it out on me after." You bite your lip and smirk up at him.

"You're going to drive me absolutely insane." He smirks and shakes his head, "I love you."

"I love you." You pull him into you and kiss him. A knock on the door cuts it short, "y/n. Are you ready?"

You keep your eyes on Harry's as you answer, "Yep. Be right there."

"It's all.." you lean in and kiss him, "just.." you kiss him again, "Pretend."

He nods, "I know. It's just another man touching you... kissing you... I know it's work but it doesn't mean I don't want to strangle him."

You sigh, "I love you."

He smirks and sighs, "I love you." He pulls you forward and smacks your ass gently, "Now let's go."

——

It took a little bit to film the first little bit before the big scene. Chris kept messing up his lines, making everyone frustrated.

"Alright. Chris. My man. Let's get this shot in one go alright. I don't want to make y/n do this anymore than she already doesn't want to." Lance looks at you, "If at any point you want to call it quits, we can call in a double, right?"

You nod and take a deep breathe, "Thank you."

Maybe you should bring Harry along more often, because if Harry wasn't here, Lance probably wouldn't have said anything about a double.

He nods and turns, "Alright! Everyone in your places, please."

You make your way up to set and stand on your first mark, awaiting instruction.

"Y/n. Chris is going to come in, you're going to say your lines and then Chris, you're just going to lift her and take her to the bed. Got it?" Lance says through the unnecessary megaphone.

"Yeah."

"Got it."

You look at Harry and give him a reassuring smile. His face is set in stone, not happy about this all over again. He tries to smile back but his jealously is overpowering everything else right now.

"Action!"

"You know, I was thinking. Maybe we can have Sunday dinners here at the new house, Paul." You turn towards Chris who is closing the door, "Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Yeah.. yeah." He nods and throws his jacket on the chair, "You know what else would be nice?"

"What, sweetie?" You take your earring out and look at him. He smiles and shakes his head, "Taking a child with next year."

You freeze as intended and slowly smile, "You mean?"

Chris walks over to you and lifts you up, taking you over to the bed as you laugh, "Paul. Paul. What are you doing?"

Your mind can't help but wander to how Harry is doing.

You stay in the role, pretending to take your bottoms off.

The whole thing was only awkward because Harry was watching you pretend to have sex with another, very popular actor.

——

"And cut!"

"You did good." Chris smiles down at you. You laugh and sigh, "I hope that was good enough."

He nods as he stands up, "it was. If not he'll have to deal." He tosses you your shirt and walks away. You get out of the bed and make your way over to Harry.

His eyes follow chris as he makes his way down the hall and you gently grip his chin and turn his head towards you.

His eyes are dark. You can't tell if it's from the hatred he feels or if it's lust towards you.

"Hey." You smile slightly and lean in, "Come on." You grab his hand and pull him with you. Halfway down the hallway, something takes over Harry and he drags you into your dressing room.

You stumble behind him, still hanging onto his hand, "Whoa, baby. Hey." He shuts the door with slam, obviously not giving a shit.

He grabs your waist and backs you up into the wall, pinning you against it, "Just.." he groans lowly as he pushes his growing-hard cock against your thigh, ".. need you right now."

"Use me." You look up at him slowly as you bite your lip.

"Knees."

You drop down to your knees and look up at him. He presses one hand against the wall and looks down at you, raising his eyebrows to indicate that you're doing the work.

You rise up slightly and slowly undo his jeans.

"Faster." He mumbles out, eyes still glued to your face, "And don't tease."

You nod once and focus on pulling him from his boxers. A slight hiss escapes his lips as you quickly press your lips to the head of his leaking cock?, "Shit."

You smirk slightly and part your lips, taking him into your mouth.

"All the way." Harry presses his other hand against the back of your head.

Thankfully, you built up enough spit, which coats him quickly. You relax as best you can and force your head down, gagging as he hits the back of your throat.

"Yeah." Harry moans out, "That's it, baby."

You squeeze your eyes shut and moan as he tangles his fingers into your hair. He pulls your head back, giving your a minute to breathe.

His hand moves from your hair to grip your chin, "Look at me, y/n." He tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him.

"A mess." He smirks and shakes his head, "I love you like this."

"Only for you."

"Only for me."

He nods towards the big chair in the corner of the room, "Undress and sit."

You scramble to your feet and walk over to the chair, taking off your pants and shirt. You stand still, slowly slipping your panties over your ass.

Harry fixes his pants and stops, licking his lips as you expose your pussy to him. He watches you turn around and sit down, naked on the seat.

He grabs another chair and sits a little bit away a from you, "Play with yourself."

"Did you lock the door?"

"Does it matter?" He shrugs and tries to hide a smug smirk.

"Kinda."

He raises an eyebrow, "I don't think you're in the right place to catch an attitude, sweetheart."

You bite your lip and tilt your head, "Why? Are you going to punish me even harder?"

He nods a few times slowly, "Mm." He stands up, making his way over to the door and checking the lock, "Locked."

You watch him as he walks back over to the chair and sits without saying another word. You lean back, bringing your feet up onto the chair.

You spread your legs and press your hand over your pussy. You push two fingers in past your folds and spread around your wetness.

Harry shifts around in the seat before he pushes his pants down his thighs. You push two fingers in and Harry gets his cock out, matching his stroke to the speed of your fingers going in and out of your pussy slowly.

"Faster." He groans out.

You spread your legs open more, moaning out quietly as you speed up the motion of your fingers.

"Quiet."

Harry's voice makes you freeze and you look at him confused.

"Not. One. Sound. Keep going."

You decided not to argue. You needed him and that would only buy him more time to not replace your fingers with his cock.

You nod and bite you lip as you build up to the speed you stopped at. You have never wanted to moan so bad.

Harry controlling you was such a turn on, you already feel your orgasm rushing in. You place a hand over your mouth as you squeeze your arm with your thighs.

Harry watches as you cum quietly. You dig your heels into the chair, turning as you slowly start to relax. You drop your hand from your mouth as you look over at him.

He has a smile resting on his lips, "Stand up and turn around."

You stand up and spin around, getting on your knees before leaning over. You look at him from over your shoulder and he starts walking towards you.

"You make a sound and we're done. Got it?"

You nod and he grips your hips, squeezing as he pulls you back to meet his hips. You bite down on your lip, squeezing your eyes shut as he rubs the head of his cock slowly against your folds.

You couldn't tease him, but he can tease you.

And you hate when it's like this.

But you love it at the same time.

"Who makes you feel the best?" Harry asks, "Hmm?" You keep your lips pressed together as you look at him, unsure of whether it's a test or not.

"You can spe-."

"You do." The words instantly leave your lips. You push your hips back, hoping to get his cock into you.

He hums quietly and slides a hand down to slip two fingers into you, "We're you this wet when you were filming that scene?"

"No."

"Mm. You didn't think of me?" Harry slowly slides his fingers in and out, curling them.

"I-I did." You try your best not to moan, "I did."

He pulls his fingers out and rubs your slick over his cock, "Not another sound." He slides his cock into you, a little quicker than normal.

You rest your head on the back of the chair and clench around him. He groans out and pulls your hips back onto him.

The pressure of his cock is just right and it makes you want to scream. You dig your nails into the couch, kind of angry you can't make any noise.

"Move, baby." Harry squeezes your hips then let's go, waiting for you to start moving your hips yourself. You get into a steady rhythm of rocking back onto his cock, which drives Harry absolutely insane.

"Fuck." He lays a hand on your ass cheek before lifting it to deliver a harsh smack. You slap a hand over your mouth and jolt back.

"Mm, good girl." He leans down and grabs a handful of your hair. He tilts your head back, "Your pussy is too good for anyone else."

You keep your eyes closed, focused on not making a sound. You didn't want him to stop.

"Y/n." Harry moans low into your ear, "Who's pussy is this?"

"Yours."

"Who's?"

"Yours, baby. Yours." You press your lips back together as he tightens his grip on your hair, "Do you want to moan?"

"Yes." You say almost breathless. He thrusts his cock into you, resting there as he turns your head, "Open your eyes."

You oblige and he smiles, "I love you."

You smile slightly, "I love you."

He pulls his cock out and has you spin around to face him. He pulls you in for a kiss and spins around, sitting down for you to straddle him.

He reaches down to hold his cock steady as you slide back down onto him.

"Talk to me." He groans, "Tell me how good I make you feel."

His hands grip your hips as you start to slide up and down, "You make me f-eel so good." You grab onto his mesh button up and pull, "The only one who makes me feel this good."

He moans at your words and his eyes glide up and down your body. His eyes fixate on your boobs, watching as they jiggle with each bounce.

"Cum in me." You moan out as you look down at him, “Please.”

He’s caught off guard, that’s something you were nervous to do, not anymore.

But he’s not opposed at all.

“Yeah?” He leans up slightly, “You want me to fill you up?”

You nod and leans down to kiss him, “Yes, baby.” You push your hips down and grind on him, “Only you.” You moan against his lips as you miss him again, “Only you.”

He pulls you closer to him and slides his hands down to your ass, lifting you up and down, “Fuck.” He tilts his head back and you move down to attack his neck with little bites.

“Yo- you-“ he gasps as you bite down harder and pushes his body into yours. He squeezes your ass, “F-fuck.”

You now had him under your control.

“You feel so good.” You whimper out into his ear, “need you to fill me up.” You moan and slide your hands to his hair.

You pull and listen to the groan leave his lips, “I will only ever want you.” You kiss his cheek, over to his lips and squeeze his cock as you feel a second orgasm coming through.

“So close.” You whine out, “shit.”

“Wait for me.” He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into him, leaning back so he can thrust his hips upwards.

You moan out and dig your nails into his skin, “F-fuck.”

A few thrusts later, Harry grunts and you can feel his thrusts get sloppy, “Okay baby.”

You let go, moaning out profanity as you feel his cum pump into you. The thought of Harry filling you drove you insane now.

“Shit, y/n.” Harry says with a chuckle, “I might need to come with you to these things more often.” You laugh as you rest your head on his chest that’s rising and falling quickly.

He kisses your head and sighs, “Sorry for getting jealous.”

You lean up and look up at him, “Please. You getting jealous over me is the hottest thing.”

——

Thanks for reading <3

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mariacallous · 7 months ago

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Three days after Kamala Harris was sworn into the Senate in early January 2017, the U.S. intelligence community released a stunning declassified report that concluded that Russian President Vladimir Putin had ordered an influence campaign meant to sway the previous year’s presidential election in favor of Donald Trump and undermine faith in U.S. democracy.

The revelations spurred three high-profile investigations into Russian election interference by lawmakers and special counsel Robert Mueller and would come to dominate headlines for much of the Trump presidency.

As a member of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, which conducted a wide-ranging three-year investigation of Moscow’s interference efforts, Harris had a front-row seat to reams of highly classified material about Russian intelligence operations targeting the United States. The experience left a long-standing impression on the vice president, according to current and former aides who characterize it as a highly formative experience that left her with few illusions about Moscow’s intentions.

“I see those first few weeks as pivotal, because those were both her and Donald Trump’s first few weeks in Washington,” said Halie Soifer, who served as national security advisor to Harris in the Senate.

A Republican source familiar with Harris’s time on the committee said that during the Russia investigation, members were exposed to “borderline raw intelligence” on Moscow’s interference efforts, which they described as an eye-opening experience, even for long-standing members of the committee. “I think it was sobering for everyone,” said the source, who requested anonymity to share their insights.

The Senate’s final report, which spanned over 1,000 pages across five volumes, is generally regarded to be the most detailed look at aggressive Russian intelligence efforts to make inroads with the Trump campaign and to sway the election in favor of the former president.

The report did not reach a conclusion as to whether the Trump team had actively sought to collude with Moscow for its own advantage.

As part of its investigation, the committee reviewed over 1 million pages of documents and interviewed more than 200 witnesses.

While much of the day-to-day work of the probe was carried out by committee staffers, senators from both sides of the aisle have described Harris as a quick study whose advice on questioning witnesses was sought by seasoned committee staff, according to a 2019 BuzzFeed article.

In public hearings on both the Intelligence and Judiciary committees, on which she also sat, Harris developed a reputation for her prosecutorial style as she interrogated senior members of the Trump administration.

“Members get out of it what they put into it, and she put a lot of time and energy and effort into it,” said the Republican source.

Former aides to the vice president have spoken of how her background as a lawyer also informs her view on foreign policy, placing particular emphasis on the importance of international laws and norms. In a 2019 interview with the Council on Foreign Relations, Harris described the U.S. role in building a “community of international institutions, laws, and democratic nations” as America’s biggest foreign-policy achievement since World War II.

While the House Intelligence Committee Russia investigation was beset by political infighting, the Senate investigation remained bipartisan and largely free of public drama—something Harris has spoken fondly of.

“Every week, members of the Senate Intelligence Committee would walk into that wood-paneled room—no cameras, no public, no devices,” said Harris during a memorial service last year for the late California Sen. Dianne Feinstein, who had been a long-standing member of the committee.

“Senators of both parties who would take off their jackets and literally roll up their sleeves, putting aside partisanship to discuss what was in the best interests of our national security,” she said.

Harris served on the Intelligence Committee, which, alongside the House panel, provides oversight of the sprawling U.S. intelligence community, throughout her four years in the Senate.

In 2018, Harris backed an amendment that would compel law enforcement to obtain a warrant before accessing the communications of American citizens inadvertently gathered under a controversial program that enabled intelligence agencies to conduct wide-ranging foreign electronic surveillance.

She also used the perch to stress the need for greater investments in election security in light of Russia’s attempt to sway the vote, co-sponsoring bipartisan legislation on election cybersecurity.

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demigodpolls · 6 months ago

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feel free to explain your answer, and don't forget to vote in the piper, hazel, annabeth version!

(please don't start an argument if your favorite artist is not included - this list is very long already, I included who I could!)

#jason grace #percy jackson #frank zhang #leo valdez #pjo polls #heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo hoo toa

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daaydreamy · 2 years ago

Note

don’t know if you’ve explored this before, but a blurb about the early stages of sub!h and y/n’s relationship and how they settled into their sub/dom dynamics. did y/n help him experiment and awaken that side of him, or did he shyly admit his kinks to her when they got together?

love your work as always ❤️

compatibility

summary: harry has… things on his mind.

warnings: coarse language

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

•••

Harry, stop being weird.

Harry wanted to be dominated.

He wasn’t sure how this… thing awakened, but it was very awake and was shaking Harry’s entire world. He would always choke on a little bit of air whenever Y/N called their goddamn cat a ‘good boy’, which always made himself weirded out because of how his body reacted to the two words. He wanted to be good for her, to listen to everything she would tell him to do—to be submissive in the bedroom.

Not like their current sex life was bad, no, not at all. He just wanted to try this, at least once, to see if it was just some thing his brain puked out that he couldn’t seem to clean up.

•••

“‘M I being good?” Harry mumbled against the softness of Y/N’s thigh, still a little hazy from the orgasm he just had. He was lying on his stomach with his head between her thighs since he obviously wanted to give her something in return, pressing wet kisses against her skin, licking her up needily.

“Yeah, fuck.” She said breathily, tangling her hand in his hair. “Being such a good boy for me.”

“What?”

“What?” She opened her eyes and looked down at Harry, brows furrowed.

“I- er, good boy?”

a/n: bro wants to be pounded so hard into the bed he forgets his name?

🏷: @crow-i-guess, @planetflos, @harrycanyonmoonn, @bxtchboy69, @sweet-as-lilacs, @lyricalniall, @venusincleo (couldn’t tag you!), @bxbun111, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @emispleased, @goldenhrry, @cinnamongirlrry, @manifestrry, @sadqn1, @judesgfirl, @taylorsreputationsversion, @violetsandfluff, @phoebebridgersforqueen, @a-strange-familiar, @moonlightbea-33 (couldn’t tag you!), @famedrs-blog, @coochiesteak, @blahblahblah-888 (couldn’t tag you!), @milesisntdonewritingyet, @harrysgoth, @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite, @cinnamonlola, @youcan-nolonger-run, @velvetrylie, @vamprry, @ellie-loveshs, @gorlsinmultifandoms, @littlenatilda

#sub!harry #subrry #harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x you #sub!harry x dom!reader #dom!reader #dom!y/n #writing

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comfort-person · 2 years ago

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Don’t you call him baby

A/n: I haven’t mentioned it but I went for a job interview and I got the job!! Hooray!

Minors please do not interact

Harry styles x fem! Reader

Inspirations from cherry:

Don’t you call him baby

Did you know I still talk to them?

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ai-the-broccoli · 4 months ago

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Dorian and Seeking Reassurance

so I was going to include this in the reblog to the post by @applestorms, but it got too long so I'm making a separate post about this.

While Dorian mainly hides the proof of his "sins" away from the world, he actually does ask for reassurance for them too! To an extent.

Specifically, at at least two points in the novel, he does try to seek reassurance from Lord Henry about the things he's feeling guilt about.

[longish TPoDG analysis on Dorian & OCD w/ comparison to Death Note below the cut. please watch out for major spoilers for the book]

In the first case:

“Harry,” cried Dorian Gray, coming over and sitting down beside him, “why is it that I cannot feel this tragedy as much as I want to? I don’t think I am heartless. Do you?” “You have done too many foolish things during the last fortnight to be entitled to give yourself that name, Dorian,” answered Lord Henry with his sweet melancholy smile. The lad frowned. “I don’t like that explanation, Harry,” he rejoined, “but I am glad you don’t think I am heartless. I am nothing of the kind. I know I am not. And yet I must admit that this thing that has happened does not affect me as it should. It seems to me to be simply like a wonderful ending to a wonderful play. It has all the terrible beauty of a Greek tragedy, a tragedy in which I took a great part, but by which I have not been wounded.” “It is an interesting question,” said Lord Henry, who found an exquisite pleasure in playing on the lad’s unconscious egotism, “an extremely interesting question. I fancy that the true explanation is this: It often happens that the real tragedies of life occur in such an inartistic manner that they hurt us by their crude violence, their absolute incoherence, their absurd want of meaning, their entire lack of style. [...] Sometimes, however, a tragedy that possesses artistic elements of beauty crosses our lives. If these elements of beauty are real, the whole thing simply appeals to our sense of dramatic effect. Suddenly we find that we are no longer the actors, but the spectators of the play. Or rather we are both. We watch ourselves, and the mere wonder of the spectacle enthralls us. In the present case, what is it that has really happened? Some one has killed herself for love of you. I wish that I had ever had such an experience. It would have made me in love with love for the rest of my life. [...]”

Okay I'm not going to post all of the next few paragraphs (since that's too much text) but basically:

At first Dorian still feels guilty and so Henry continues to try to comfort him in his own way... a questionable way at that, specifically by expanding on the "explanation" he raises (as you can see above), according to which the reason why Dorian is incapable of feeling more strongly and more sorry about Sybil's death is that this is but a beautiful artistic tragedy -- that Sybil Vane was hardly really that real in the first place -- that women appreciate cruelty and dominance -- and that her death makes her whole existence beautiful as the final act of her play.

And then... Alright, let's look at how Dorian "comes to terms" with his inability to feel more grief or empathy for her (he can feel GENERAL guilt/shame and he feels it very strongly, but like... he can't really feel emotional empathy for Sybil if that makes sense, and it's bothering him until it's not [1]) at last.

“You said to me that Sibyl Vane represented to you all the heroines of romance—that she was Desdemona one night, and Ophelia the other; that if she died as Juliet, she came to life as Imogen.” “She will never come to life again now,” muttered the lad, burying his face in his hands. “No, she will never come to life. She has played her last part. But you must think of that lonely death in the tawdry dressing-room simply as a strange lurid fragment from some Jacobean tragedy, as a wonderful scene from Webster, or Ford, or Cyril Tourneur. The girl never really lived, and so she has never really died. To you at least she was always a dream, a phantom that flitted through Shakespeare’s plays and left them lovelier for its presence, a reed through which Shakespeare’s music sounded richer and more full of joy. The moment she touched actual life, she marred it, and it marred her, and so she passed away. Mourn for Ophelia, if you like. Put ashes on your head because Cordelia was strangled. Cry out against Heaven because the daughter of Brabantio died. But don’t waste your tears over Sibyl Vane. She was less real than they are.” There was a silence. The evening darkened in the room. Noiselessly, and with silver feet, the shadows crept in from the garden. The colours faded wearily out of things. After some time Dorian Gray looked up. “You have explained me to myself, Harry,” he murmured with something of a sigh of relief. “I felt all that you have said, but somehow I was afraid of it, and I could not express it to myself. How well you know me! But we will not talk again of what has happened. It has been a marvellous experience. That is all. I wonder if life has still in store for me anything as marvellous.” “Life has everything in store for you, Dorian. There is nothing that you, with your extraordinary good looks, will not be able to do.”

........so does this excerpt remind you of anything? Because it does remind me.

....yep.

This was what I meant by this (specifically the "OCD guilt can't catch me if my ego is big enough" part) lol:

"oh fuck. what the fuck. fuck I did that" -> "I feel awful. I did a horribly wrong thing" -> "..." -> "no, urgh, wait" -> "actually, that was... definitely a good thing!" -> "yeah. them dying was fine because they should've been killed and/or they're not real" (it's dehumanization either way) -> "that's right! I did a good thing. a very good thing. that was what I wanted all along. it was incredible, actually! it was a rare and unusually good event"

also interesting to note in this case is that, Dorian's rationalization process is aided by Henry, while Light did the whole thing on his own.

[1] On that note, Dorian's not being able to feel as much emotional empathy as he wants may be a result of NPD or something similar. And the thing is, not being able to feel affective/emotional empathy is not a choice, and it isn't in itself anything that inherently makes him bad. However, ironically, Henry's way of helping him out of his guilt over his inability to feel it for Sybil DOES lead Dorian to adopt a messed up way to view things. Like... the "right"(?) lesson here would be "it's okay that you don't emotionally feel grief and empathy over this, it doesn't inherently make you a bad person", but instead, Dorian learns "it's not just 'okay' to feel no grief and empathy over this, it's that that's literally THE right way of reacting to this tragedy! Because Sybil literally wasn't even real in the first place, her death is such beautiful theatre. There was literally nothing for ANYONE to feel grief or empathy over, and it was great how much you made her suffer."

In the second case:

“What would you say, Harry, if I told you that I had murdered Basil?” said the younger man. He watched him intently after he had spoken. “I would say, my dear fellow, that you were posing for a character that doesn’t suit you. All crime is vulgar, just as all vulgarity is crime. It is not in you, Dorian, to commit a murder. I am sorry if I hurt your vanity by saying so, but I assure you it is true. Crime belongs exclusively to the lower orders. I don’t blame them in the smallest degree. I should fancy that crime was to them what art is to us, simply a method of procuring extraordinary sensations.” “A method of procuring sensations? Do you think, then, that a man who has once committed a murder could possibly do the same crime again? Don’t tell me that.” “Oh! anything becomes a pleasure if one does it too often,” cried Lord Henry, laughing. “That is one of the most important secrets of life. I should fancy, however, that murder is always a mistake. One should never do anything that one cannot talk about after dinner. But let us pass from poor Basil. [...]” Dorian heaved a sigh, and Lord Henry strolled across the room and began to stroke the head of a curious Java parrot, a large, grey-plumaged bird with pink crest and tail, that was balancing itself upon a bamboo perch. [...]

This is less obvious of a case, but here Dorian does suggest to Henry the possibility that he might've murdered Basil to see how he would react.

Dorian is disappointed after Henry is like "You? No way, duh", which suggests that he actually wished Henry would seriously consider the possibility so that Dorian can either like feel a bit better from confessing his own crime to a party that is not judgmental, or be reassured by him that it's okay too; or both (see: Henry previously was... VERY accepting of Dorian being a major part of the cause for Sybil's death).

His attempt at seeking reassurance fails completely, however, just like Light's attempt for Soichiro and others to accept Kira and everything, because Henry does not believe Dorian to be a person capable of murder and refused to believe that Basil could've been murdered in the first place.

but yeah tl;dr: Dorian Gray sure is an accidental OCD allegory like Light Yagami. very intriguing

#tpodg #analysis #own analysis #dorian gray #lord henry wotton #the picture of dorian gray #death note #light yagami #i (ai)

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