#this will only make sense if you’ve seen the leaks for the finale

[tanomoon]

“a targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing”

[classyrbf]

HE'S SUCH A (HOT) LOSER! — CHOSO KAMO

SYNOPSIS...nsfw and sfw headcanons about loser!choso bc I can’t get him out of my head after righting that drabble about him

INFO...loser!choso x fem!reader, socially awkward, virgin!choso, jerking off, virginity loss, sexual acts, creampie,

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

loser!choso who literally has no friends, is the epitome of socially awkward and always ends making the conversation weird when he opens his mouth

loser!choso who has never seen a woman naked in real life, he just goes on porn sites and jerks his dick until it feels like it’s about to fall off, cum painted on his toned stomach

loser!choso who has sex toys in his closet, fleshlights, pocket pussies, whatever you call them—he has at least two, one of them even vibrates

loser!choso who is (you guessed it) a total virgin, he’s never even gotten close enough to lose it, yet alone have his first kiss

loser!choso who is forced by yuji to go on a dating app and try to find a girlfriend, and he ends up matching with you

loser!choso who stays in his room, playing video games, or goes to the gym, otherwise the poor boy has no social life (like I said, he has no friends)

loser!choso who finally goes on his first date with you and he’s sweating, stumbling over his words because you’re smiling at him, grabbing his hand and making jokes all while looking like some sort of goddess. He was starting to wonder if he’s dreaming

loser!choso who is absolutely stunned when you express how cute you think he is, how nice his hair looks, and he doesn’t know how to react so he just stands there and smiles at you like a complete idiot

loser!choso who drives home after the date and he genuinely can’t wait to get home to jerk off to the thought of you, so he pulls into an empty parking and pulls his pants down right there, tip already leaking precum when he remembers the way your tits were popping out of you dress

loser!choso who thinks the date went horribly wrong until you’re texting him the next day, already planning the next time you meet up, weirdly inviting him over to your place

loser!choso who is obsessed with titties (clearly) no matter what size. He imagines himself getting a hold of pair and just grabbing them, sucking them, it turns him on so bad

loser!choso who thinks nothing of going over your house until he gets his one wish, getting a hold of your tits in his hands, and he’s star struck, just groping, squeezing and without thinking he’s sucking on them

loser!choso who ends up losing his virginity a few minutes later with you bouncing up and down on his cock, pussy gushing around him. He’s in literal heaven and can barely think, brain turned to mush

loser!choso who realizes real sex is better than porn fairly quickly, and lets just say he becomes more obsessed with you than ever cause it’s so much more intimate when you’re holding him, praising him, calling him a good boy

loser!choso who cums in your pussy so many times that night, and the aftermath leaves him stuck in the same spot on your bed while you cuddle up to him and tell him how much you like him even if you’ve only known him for two days

loser!choso who now has his first ever girlfriend, his first everything with you and he can’t wait to brag to yuji about it because you’re absolutely gorgeous

loser!choso who shows you off on his social media despite the twenty followers that he has, he just want to show off his girlfriend to whoever he can

loser!choso who gets weird stares in public from other men when he’s out with you because he knows you’re way out of his league, but just to make them jealous he grabs you and kisses you in front of them

loser!choso who doesn’t develop a sense of fashion until he meets you, going to countless stores as you pick out outfits that’ll look good on him, and he won’t lie, you’ve done a very good job because he’s gained much more confidence in himself

loser!choso who goes on and on about his special interests and you sit there smiling at him, listening intently. He’s lowkey a nerd but you love it

loser!choso who hangs with no one but you, missing you constantly and randomly showing up at your house when he feels like you’ve spent too much time apart

loser!choso who wants to learn how to pleasure you more so he looks up videos on how to eat pussy and watches all the porn he can to study their movements, but when he tells you, you just laugh and say how silly he is, showing him a hands on tutorial, instructing him on what to do and what you like

loser!choso who constantly asks if he made you cum, poor baby doesn’t want you to go around unsatisfied so he doesn’t everything in his power to make you feel good no matter what

loser!choso who is (obviously) the quiet type, so he studies what you like and what you do by watching you and when he grabs your exact fast food order without you saying anything, you’re standing there confused and he’s looking down at you like “what?”

loser!choso who has a glow up because of you, and girls that have rejected him come crawling back into his life not knowing about you, so he just hits them with the “my beautiful girl who I love very much does not like you talking to me bye” and blocks them

loser!choso who is actually very sweet despite his awkwardness, he might look stand offish in person and act weird around others, but when he’s comfortable with you hes a different person

loser!choso who gets you anything you ask for, spending countless amounts of money on you even if you don’t ask for it, he just loves you so much he wants to show his appreciation in every way whether that’s spoiling you or making you cum

[mikichko]

i have another gaz thought…

this was inspired by @buttdumplin so blame him for the debauchery

mdni. unedited :)

there’s no way you’re seeing things right.

the sun shines brightly, no cloud in the sky, no shadow on the grounds below but you swear you’ve got to be seeing things. you must be. it’s the only logical explanation.

because there’s no way that your awfully kind and incredibly handsome neighbor would put himself in this situation.

at first glance, he’s not doing anything wrong. just lounging by the complex pool, his smooth dark skin on display, with a book in hand. he even matched his sunglasses and swim shorts to round out his look.

it’s on second glance, when you let your eyes trail over him and linger that you notice it. how his shorts do little to hide anything, no imagination needed. especially not when his girthy long cock strains against the thin material.

he’s got his right leg splayed open, the meat of his inner thigh to the sun, with his left leg stretched out in front of him. you can see right where the base of him starts, the fat of his balls accentuated by the way the fabric is pulled taut against them. you can trace the curve of his cock, tucked along the inside of his thigh. down, down, down until there’s something peeking out and something wet against-

you immediately look away as the realization dawns on you. you’re sure he can’t seen you, the glare of the sun too fierce to see into your apartment, but your hands still tremble. you feel the ache between your legs as you make sense of what you saw. try to figure out why there was a single patch of wetness on your neighbor’s thigh while the rest of him was bone dry.

how the fuck are you supposed to focus on work now?

———

gaz knows his pretty thing keeps their desk along their window. likes the way the natural light warms them up while their coffee wakes them up.

he also knows they love to stare out their window . loves to watch the wind ruffle the trees, the way the city moves, how the people act. and with such a lovely view of their pool, gaz might as well give them something to look at, right? he’d be a bad neighbor if he didn’t

it takes a few weeks to choose the right spot for him to lounge. some are too close, angled such a way where they can’t watch him. others too far, they’d miss the important details they need to see. finally, he finds the spot. right in the line of sight of their window, it’ll let them see everything he wants them to.

he starts off small, just lounging head thrown back towards the sun, but he hates that. he can't see them. he settles for an incline next, but with no glasses he's sure they’ll see how his eyes don't stray from them at all. how can they when he can see how the waistband digs into their skin in a way that has his tongue running over his teeth. he wants to bite, sink into their soft flesh.

finally he sets himself up with the glasses and book. holding it so that he’s able to look right over the edge of the page and stare straight through their window. so he can watch the sweet thing he’s been stuck on since he bumped into them in the lobby.

its a wonder it takes you so long to notice his reaction to you. gaz isn’t sure how you’ve gone so long without noticing when just the thought of you watching him has the blood flow redirecting. how his dick twitches at the thought of the pool. the way he leaks when he’s in the chair setting himself up for you.

he blames it on the shorts. too practical, too concealing. he’s not here for any of that, he’s here for you to see him. to see the outline of his pretty cock. the one he’ll be driving into you if he plays his cards right.

so he gets to fixing that right away. his shorts loose a few centimeters every time he’s at the pool, excitement bubbling up as he notices the way your eyes trail over him. always so polite and proper like you don’t want to intrude on his privacy. completely unaware to the fact this whole moment is being entirely curated for you.

his dick is straining before he even gets to the pool. he can feel the fabric digging into the fat of his ass and the seam rubbing along his head, already aiding the drip of slick from it. he’s tingling with the anticipation, dying to know what you’ll do when you see him.

he picks a “casual” position, especially chosen so thar his shorts can ride up to expose him. so that you can see the way he drips for you. squeezes his balls just a little before he settles so that his dick can drip a little more. enough so that it pools on his thigh.

he twitches when he noticed how long you’re staring. the way your eyes slowly make your way over his body after holding out for so long. can see the exact moment you see his shorts with the way your eyes widen and your mouth opens slightly. knows you’re tracing the length of him when your eyes drift downward and you lick your lips. and when your pretty eyes stop and your tongue catches in the corner of your mouth he knows you’ve spotted it. how he weeps at the thought of being buried in you.

you turn too quickly. hand trembling as you reach for your water bottle. he can see how you adjust yourself, drinking water, turning your little desk fan. all in an attempt to keep yourself looking dignified.

but gaz know’s he’s finally pushed enough to break past your facade. it’s just a matter of time before he has you under him, trembling.

[mavrintarou]

[12:12 AM] Kozume Kenma A/B/O

I'm a day late but happy birthday to the cute rich gamer~

Warning: explicit A/B/O contents .

After a long morning of studying, you finally allowed yourself to check your phone after placing it under Do Not Disturb. Your eyes narrowed at the number of messages and missed phone calls that were waiting for you.

Ten missed calls and fifteen messages, all from Kozume Kenma, your best friend.

You checked the messages first, hoping to better understand why you had many missed calls from him.

I need you

Where are you?

Y/n something is wrong with me

You only read a few as you quickly packed your belongings and rushed to his place.

.

“Ken!” You shouted, entering his condo, toeing off your sneakers, and kicking them off. Your socks caused you to slip and slide on his hardwood floor as you hurried down the long hallway that led to his living room.

Kenma lived in a luxurious condo that was designed to accommodate his career and lifestyle. His personalized gaming room was soundproof and the unit was located at the very top of the building so that he wouldn’t have disturbing neighbors. After becoming a successful gamer and businessman, money was no issue to him.

His living room and kitchen were empty, as usual, but it was the… faint and unknown pheromones that you smelt in the air that gave you chills.

You were also close to your heat cycle, with it being a few days away.

But nothing made any sense.

Kenma was a beta. A dominant beta to be precise and he should not be producing any pheromone.

“Whose…” you plugged your nose and headed up the stairs to the second level where his office and bedroom were located. For someone who lived alone, he had a large place where he only occupied a quarter of the living space.

As you near the second level, the stronger the pheromone. Did he… have someone with him?

Being a dominant omega, you were able to determine that it was an alpha, it was the alpha pheromone that was making your body hot and difficult for you to reach Kenma.

“Kenma!” you shouted, breathing heavily by each step. “Kenma! Where are you?” You shouted his name repeatedly and forced yourself into his bedroom, as usual, his bed was unmade and there was no sign of him.

His office was at the end of the hall, and you pushed yourself forward. You grabbed his door knob, only for it to lock. “Kenma!” you pound on the door. Why would he lock the door when he was the only one home? “Kenma! It's me, Y/n, are you in here?”

Heat pooled between your legs, making your panties damp by the second. Whoever’s alpha pheromone will push you into your heat cycle if you don’t leave soon.

“Kenma!” you pound on the door and something clicks from the other side and the door slowly swings open. Kenma stood before you in a dazed look, his blond hair a mess. His breath is heavy and uneven. You stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder, “are you hurt? What – what’s wrong?” You searched their face but his focus remained afar. You looked over his shoulder, trying to get a glimpse if there was someone else in the room. “Is someone here with you? Why do I feel…” your voice faded as you realized it was Kenma, that was releasing pheromones. “Ken… are you – why are you releasing pheromones?”

Your hands tremble as lift your touch off his hot skin.

You had not realized that he was completely naked. You swallowed the dry lump in your throat and glance down, his cock was hard and thicker than you remember.

“Ken… ma…” you choked before losing all strength in your knee and collapsing on his soft carpet. The dampness you felt in your panties was now soaked. You’re soaking wet now.

Kenma takes a step closer and his cock greets you at eye level, it was a deep shade of red, thick with protruding veins.

You’ve seen Kenma naked, taken his cock plenty of times but you don’t remember it being this big… and thick…

The tip leaked beads of white cum, dripping down his length and you wanted to lick it.

“Ken…”Your voice shook with confusion. He should not be in a rut. This is exactly what a rut cycle was… for an alpha, not a beta.

His hand cups your jaw and tilt your chin upward and with his other hand, he grabs his cock and brings the tip to your lips, “suck.”

Your body was hot and your pussy ache, needing to be filled, needing to be fucked.

“Be my good girl and suck me, Y/n,” Kenma murmured in a low tone. “And I’ll fuck you good.”

Any and all rational went down the drain as you leaned forward and wrapped your mouth around the tip, swirling your tongue. Kenma’s head tilt back as you take as much of his cock into your mouth as you were close to gagging. Your hand stroked the remaining that you couldn’t take and nearly choked with his cock twitched.

“Y/n,” Kenma’s fingers thread through your hair, pushing it away. “I’m about to cum if you don’t want it down your throat.”

His eyes darken as you disregard his warning and groan, hips jerking as he pushed his cock further into your throat. Hot and thick cum shot down your throat as you pulled back enough to take it all.

Kenma stepped back and withdrew, his thumb wiping away the tears that slipped from the corner of your eyes. “Good girl, now come here.”

You loved it when Kenma praised you, he may be a beta to others but he was an alpha to you.

He tugged you up onto your feet and a hand gripped the back of your neck, pressing your lips against his in a hard and hungry kiss. His hands were eagerly ripping off your clothes, he growled as he pulled away to tug off your shirt before his mouth resumed back on yours.

You’re backed up against his wall as he flips you around and drops to his knees, his hand roughly tugged off your leggings and shoving them at your ankles.

Before you could look over your shoulders, you gasped loudly as your hips were jerked back and his face smothered into your pussy. “Ah… K – Ken!”

Your back arched, breasts pressed against his wall as you feel two… or three fingers plunging into your dripping pussy.

Being days away from your heat cycle, your pussy was more than ready.

“Enough, Ken,” you murmur, looking back to see his dark eyes peering up at you with his nose and mouth buried into your backside.

He pulled back and you can see his cheeks glistening in your wetness. “You taste sweet… and savory.” He stood up and spun you back around towards him before hooking one arm under your left leg. “Wrap your arms around me,” he orders before aligning his cock to your pussy and pushing it all in one go.

Your moan echoed in his room along with his thrust.

His cock felt longer and thicker than usual and you weren’t sure if your body was just sensitive at the moment.

Your arms tighten around his neck as you’re being lifted practically off the ground. You were lifted onto the tip of your toes on your other foot. Kenma presses your body against his wall with him being the one to pump his cock into you.

“Fuck – yes, Ken!” Your fingers gripped tightly to his hair. “Your cock… your cock fills me up so – “ your sentence is cut off as his teeth nips at your neck, he inhales sharply and growls into your throat. “Ken – why…” your mind is blurred as pheromone fogs all your senses.

His long strokes bring you to heaven, filling your tight pussy and pushing up against your cervix. Each time he was fully inside of you, his tip brushed against your opening, seeking entrance.

Being a beta he wouldn’t be able to knot you, let alone breed you but you allowed your imagination to wonder.

Kenma has taken care of you during your heat a handful of times, even if he wasn’t able to completely satisfy your needs entirely, he was enough for you.

He was always someone you held close to your heart, someone you loved but he had always treated you like his friend.

You were content with your relationship as long as he didn’t have others. He did not seem to mind that you occasionally would seek an alpha for the once or twice a year that you would need a knot to completely satisfy your heat.

“Kenma,” you moaned against his neck, “Kenma I’m so close… please… I need to cum…” You’re suddenly hoisted and pressed against the wall as Kenma’s other arm hooked under your right leg, carrying your weight.

Kenma’s grunts and groan was louder than usual and he was rougher than usual.

Your nose pressed against his neck, his scent smelled differently but you couldn’t quite figure it out.

“Ken,” you moaned, each time the tip of his cock brushed your cervix opening, it widen, widen to allow and accept a knot.

The tip of his cock continue to keep probing your cervix until you feel him slip past and your belly bulges.

You gasped and came, pussy trembling around his cock. Your legs and arms tighten around him, “h – how?” you whimper, feeling his cock inflating into a knot.

You didn’t understand and didn’t have the capacity at the second to care.

Kenma was knotting you.

He is breeding you.

His cum is filling your nearly fertile womb.

.

.

The first thing your eyes focused on is Kenma’s chest.

You’re lying in his arms in his cozy bed, and he is fast sleep.

One if your leg is thrown over his hip and was still stuffed with his cock.

You lost count after the fourth round.

You lost it all when Kenma knotted you.

“You fainted on me.” His quiet whisper startled you.

“Well,” your voice croaked, “did you not expect it when you made me cum four times in a row with no break?” His lips curve into a small smile. You traced his jaw, “Ken… what – what the hell happened? How are you able to knot?”

Kenma opens his eyes and catch your wrist, bringing your palm to his cheek. “I had a successful transition.”

Your eyes widened in response to the news.

A significant breakthrough recently became viral in modern medicine and treatment has allowed betas to transition into either omega or alphas. However, the progress is still experimental, and not every case has been successful.

 “So, you’re an alpha now?”

“Yes,” he answered confidently. He shift and kiss you softly, “this… is my first rut cycle.”

It explained the imbalanced pheromones and the shift in his physique. His shoulders have broaden and… his height.

You moaned into his mouth, “Ken, I love you regardless of what you are.”

“You love me?”

Your heart accelerated, accidentally blurting out your true feelings.

“You love me?” he asked again, wanting clarification.

You shut your eyes and sighed before nodding, “yes, I have loved you for a long time.”

He smiled, something you weren’t expecting. “So have I, I have loved you since we were kids.”

Your eyes find his soft hazel brown ones, “really?”

“Yes, when this treatment was announced, I decided to give it a shot.” He lets out a soft sigh, “it was all worth it if it meant you wouldn’t have to rely on another alpha.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to disappoint you in case it didn’t work.” He pressed his lips to the tip of your nose. “I’ll continue to keep doing treatment but for now, my test results are all showing alpha traits.”

You tighten your arm around his back, snuggling closer into his chest. “Yes, you knotted me, you know?”

“I sure did.”

“How did that feel?”

“Fucken wonderful.”

You leaned back to look at him, “you know I could be pregnant now, right?”

“That was the plan.” . . .

E/n: Kenma, an alpha #hotness

@queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[achromatophoric]

Wenclairtober 2024, Day 16 - Haunted House

Pre-Wenclair. Late one night two girls and a hand find themselves searching a particularly decrepit abandoned mansion for clues.

Enid: *whispers* Are you for like reals? Now? Here?!

Thing indicates their surroundings.

Enid: I mean— yeah, I guess Willa would find this place totes romantic, but—

Thing points at Enid, then mockingly trembles.

Enid: *gasps* I am NOT a scaredy-pup! You know what? FINE.

With an indignant hmph, Enid whirls about and stomps over to Wednesday. The seer is in the middle of examining a derelict bookshelf, it’s contents more litter than literature.

Wednesday: Enid, do step quietly. Besides the questionable condition of the floorboards, you might also alert any ghosts to our presence.

Enid: *falters in step* G-Ghosts? What ghosts?!

Thing gestures impatiently.

Enid: I-I mean—*clears throat* Willa, I have something to ask you.

Wednesday: *straightens and faces Enid* Yes? Did you discover something interesting?

Enid: Is that— *points* Is that ectoplasm, or are you just happy to see me?

Wednesday: What?

While Wednesday glances down at herself, Thing motions for Enid to continue.

Enid: If I told you I had a poltergeist in my bedroom, would you help me bust one out?

Wednesday: Of course. We share the same—

Thing hurriedly motions for the next one.

Enid: *urgently* Were you gruesomely murdered here?

Wednesday: *furrows brow* Why would—

Enid: Because you’ve been haunting my dreams!

Wednesday: Oh.

Thing excitedly gestures upon noticing the subtle widening of Wednesday’s eyes.

Enid: *presses* Can we have a seance?

Wednesday: Eni—

Enid: Because I can’t wait to see your eyes roll back while you scream in tongues!

Wednesday: *begins to blush* Oh.

Enid: Have you seen the Amityville Horror?

Enid: Because by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be leaking down the walls—

Wednesday: *stares*

Enid: —of our bedroom!

Sensing Wednesday’s composure crumbling, Thing catches Enid’s attention and makes a swift cutting motion. Enid nods and makes her finally attack.

Enid: Are you built atop an ancient burial ground?

Enid: Because I’m gonna haunt the flip out of your insides and RUIN you for anyone else!

Wednesday: *speechless and blushing*

Enid: *pants*

Thing: 👍

“Bravo!”

“Magnifico!”

“Now that’s a gal with some moxie!”

At the rising sound of applause, Enid blushes and performs a bashful curtsey.

Enid: Gosh! Th-Thank you! I tried my best and—

Enid: *pauses*

Enid: 😐

Enid: 😑

Enid: 😐

Slowly, Enid turns around to face her adoring audience.

Bloody ghost: Humble too! Simply amazing, don’t you think, old chap?

Well-dressed ghost: Quite so! That was the most entertaining thing I’ve seen since you decapitated that cameraman.

Mobster ghost: What are ya waitin’ for, doll? Go get yer girl!

Enid: 😱

Enid: G-G-GHOSTS!!!

With an ear-splitting shriek, Enid turns and RUNS for her life, absolutely demolishing any obstacles in her way.

Wednesday: Querida! Wait for me!

Wednesday, with Thing already on her shoulder, clambers through the first of several Enid-shaped holes in the mansion walls. She abandons both undiscovered clues and amused ghosts, caring only for catching up to the girl who (somehow) claimed her stone cold heart.

[eveningepiphany]

welcome to the final show | H.S, part 4

my masterlist!

summary: suddenly it’s not just you and harry anymore, and not only do the general media want an explanation, but so do your friends and family. however, the two of you are only just figuring things out yourselves.

warnings: paparazzi, anxiety surrounding leaked images, fluff, comforting, confessions, make out session, sexual content!

a/n: no because i am so thrilled for you all to read this. these two are so much fun to write about. I hope you enjoy <3

(I was on the fence about including smut, but I decided i wanted to! if that’s not something you want to read, a little warning will come up when it’s about to begin. plot wise you won’t miss anything if you choose not to read it!)

———

There’s a certain type of love that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

And it’s an all consuming kind. One that when you think about it you feel it to the bone.

And oh, had you done a lot of thinking. Overthinking was pretty much all you’ve been doing the past two weeks.

You obviously are attracted to Harry. Physically, emotionally… just in every sense of the word. That’s nothing new for you. And even throughout the points of denial since forming a personal relationship with him. It’s the truth.

You’ve probably gaslit yourself out of it more times then you could count. However picture evidence of you holding hands with him in the homely streets of Italy is kind of a slap to the face.

And despite how cute you think the photos may be, you are still inexplicably panicked about them.

It’s the morning after the photos got posted. And you are genuinely still in shock. You struggled to fall asleep last night after the images first came out— your brain in complete overdrive for god knows how long until you fell asleep.

And this morning you’re ignoring the influx of messages and calls you’re getting from family, friends, and people you’ve met through love on tour.

Several texts from your own sister coming through half an hour ago. All of them including the word ‘fuck’. Shes definitely mad you didn’t tell her this had happened.

Either way, you’re left pacing the length of your hotel room. Heart still near racing in your chest as you try to figure out what to do, and how to handle something like this.

You held hands with him, you remind yourself. You didn’t get caught making out with him… the act for you came across as still something bordering platonic— even though you wished it were anything but that. This could eventually blow over.

You sigh out, leaning against the wall of your hotel, this was considerably more simple when the rest of the population had no idea it was happening.

Now they do, and they have a lot of questions. Plus, it makes it significantly harder when it’s about things you don’t even have answers to.

Harry hadn’t messaged you since everything had happened. If he even knows is beyond you.

But it felt wrong talking to anyone about it without talking to him first.

You felt a sense of guilt. Because this easily will stir up drama for him. Stuff like this spreads so fast, and you’ve seen it happen 100 times. But now you’re no longer in the back seat just watching it unfold. There will be articles, posts, even snippets in the newspapers about it. And whether or not it’s something he’s accustomed to, you still feel at fault. Like you could’ve been more careful, more considerate.

You move to sit on the edge of your unmade bed, staring at your phone that you’ve left on the bench top. How do you even approach it? What do you say to him?

You quickly decide you don’t really want to, at the moment. There is too much going through your head, and you’re still a bit freaked out about it all.

So another anxiety shower is. Which for right now, is your best and favourite option.

Standing up, you head to the bathroom, leaving your phone out in the room, allowing it to continue buzzing while you decide it’s time for some hardcore self-care to calm yourself down.

On the other side of things, Harry is also freaking out. He woke up to texts from a couple people, asking about a headline?

And for people he knows personally to be reaching out about trashy posts on the media, it’s almost always a bad sign.

One being from James, who has been off ‘The Late Late Show’ too long for him to withhold himself from making bad jokes when they present themselves.

Are they even allowed to put that many exclamation marks in the title? Overkill if you ask me. 😪😪

But when he reads the link and sees the image of himself with you, his anxiety immediately shifts from being personal.

[ 1 attachment link] : Styles Has Found His Next Musical Muse, But She’s Actually a ‘Hardcore Fangirl!!!’”

He’s almost positive you will have seen the leaked images. There is no way you would have missed this unless you were still sleeping.

Guilt nearly slaps him in the face. You do not deserve this. He already knows that you’re probably being slammed on Twitter and in comments of these pathetic articles.

And that is never nice. He hates it enough when it’s himself, and that’s after a decade of learning how to deal with it.

His concern for you leads to a text, one he doesn’t want to make, but does anyway. Purely for the fact he needs to know you’re alright.

Because the worst thing that could happen is you having some kind of anxiety attack after reading something online, and not having anyone there to be with you to talk you down. Regardless of how confident you can appear to him, he’s not taking the chance.

Hi love, can you please let me know you’re alright?

He sends it through, and then he typed out another one after it’s been about five long minutes without a reply.

I am very possibly overreacting right now, but do you need me to come over?

Another ten minutes go by,

I’ll be over in about 15. x

He is aware this may be over the top. You could be asleep. You could be just processing what’s happened— since he still remembers the first time things like this happened to him. And it’s a really weird experience.

But he is undeniably protective of you. That is one thing he can’t lie about.

And even more-so, he’s terrified this will scare you off. Because if it’s too much for you, he has no clue how he’d deal with it. Since it’s way too far out of his hands now.

Even though he knew well that this was a easily plausible situation. And it’s almost surprising how long they’ve gone without it happening earlier.

In his own time, he’s been overthinking plenty too. Wondering if it’s normal to want to lay your entire life down for someone two weeks after meeting them.

Maybe if he were 16… but pushing 30… it might be a bit harder to justify.

But somehow, despite knowing how stupid he probably seems, he leaves his bedroom after throwing on some shorts and a tshirt. Going out and grabbing the keys for his car from the kitchen.

Gemma is out there cooking toast, and she turns around to see him near running out the door.

“Harry!” She says, and when he stops to give her a quick greeting she interrupts him.

“Don’t worry so much.” She sighs.

Immediately confused, he frowns, frozen in place, “what…?”

“I’m assuming that this Y/N you’ve been on about really likes you too, okay? There’s no way she doesn’t. So just treat it like any other relationship or friendship you have. No matter the circumstances you met under. If you like her, you like her. Don’t let shit from the media get to either of you.”

Her advice comes just when he needs it, as it always does. And even though he acts like she doesn’t, she knows almost everything there is to know.

A small nod, “Thank you Gem…”

She gives him a warm smile, one that’s always encouraged him.

———

You hear the knock on the door while you’re standing in the bathroom, finishing applying a face mask. Stood clad in your shorts and black boob tube.

And after finally calming down a bit, it gives you another wave of panic. Since after waiting a few moments, the rapping on the door continues. You were hoping they would just go away, whoever it was.

You quietly leave your bathroom, going down the short hallway to look through the peephole in the door.

You don’t even get your eye up to it before you hear the all too familiar voice on the other side.

“Y/N, it’s Harry…” He was a bit muffled, but you didn’t even think as you start unlatching the locks on the door.

The look of relief on his face when you finally peek out is almost palpable.

“Hi…” you say quietly, pulling the door open further, letting him come in quickly.

He has two cups in his hands, and once he’s inside your room, he is fast to place them on the nearest free space.

“What are you—“ you don’t get through the sentence before he breaches the distance between you, tugging you into a hug, uncaring of the face mask residue getting on his shirt.

He squeezes you, “‘M so glad y’alright.”

You take a deep breath. So, he knows.

You feel immediately bad for not letting him know earlier, before he felt the need to come over.

“Did you call me? I’m so sorry, i was in the—”

“I texted you couple times— don’t be sorry. I don’t want it to seem weird I came rushing over… i was jus’ worried about you.”

You slowly draw back, “I was going to text you, I just didn’t want to… i didn’t know how to go about it, i guess?”

He pulls away, “I am so fuckin’ sorry this happened.”

“Why are you apologising? I should be…”

“Why should you apologise? You of all people do not deserve to be dissected by people in the media. Ive dragged you into something you didn’t deserve to be dragged into.” He says, sounding exasperated.

“You aren’t at fault for any of this, H. I feel like I’ve stirred up unnecessary drama up for you…” To this he immediately shakes his head.

“You haven’t. I was just worried about how you’d perceive it all… and fuck— i didn’t want it to scare you off.”

You both seem to realise that you were freaking out over each other. Starting to laugh together, realising how stupid you both probably sound.

“Okay… we sound really silly.” You sigh, moving to grab the cup he’d placed down prior to your very quick debrief.

“But seriously, Harry,” you lead him over to sit down on the edge of your bed with you, “I am still sorry. I feel like I’ve caused unnecessary… assumptions.”

He frowns a little, “assumptions?”

“About us. You know…” you shrug, eyes avoiding him, doing a terrible job at acting nonchalant.

“That we’re together? That what you’re so shy about, hm?” He teases, and you physically cannot handle the way he says it.

“I— well— Yes, sure that’s what I was going for.”

You gently scratch at the dried edges of your clay face mask, and he watches quietly, wishing he could see the blush that’s risen on your cheeks underneath it.

“Why were you showering so early— It’s like midday, I thought you said you showered in the evening?” He asks, out of the blue, causing you to frown.

Your answer comes out unsurely, “I have anxiety showers sometimes. It calms me down.”

He cocks his eyebrow, “Is that why you were literally dripping wet when i came over the other day?”

He pins you with his gaze, and you don’t reply for a few seconds. You were hoping he broke the silence himself, but it was clear he was waiting for a response.

You blurt out, “You make me nervous!”

To this he laughs, “I make you nervous?”

“Not… all the time.” You amend, “Just sometimes.”

You remove yourself before he can ask more questions, and you go to wash off the face mask in the bathroom, while he’s still stifling his laughter.

You emerge after washing it off with cold water, and his eyes follow your every step as you go to sit back down.

“Yknow, Y/N, if I didn’t know any better I’d—“

He’s cut off by a bang on the front door.

You were only scared for a second, until you heard a shrill feminine shout from outside it. One you know to be your best friends classic angry voice.

You were relieved for only about another second before you realised, she will probably break that door down if you don’t let her in.

Oh god.

“Y/N Y/L/N. LET. ME. IN!” You can picture her angry little face. And you’re almost a bit terrified of her.

But you have to hide Harry. Like you have to actually hide him.

“Harry— you— fuck, get up—” You whisper, trying to stay as quiet as possible, grabbing his wrist.

“What is happening?” He sounds awfully confused as you manhandle him around the hotel room, trying to find an adequate place to hide a 6 foot tall man from your fired up best friend.

“She may kill you— she loves you— but she’s very mad at me right now, because I didn’t tell her about,” you pause as you try to label again whatever the two of you were, “us… this… whatever you want to deem it.”

You realise the cupboard is about the only reasonable place, unless you make him climb down the balcony.

“Are you—“

“Y/N! i already KNOW you’re in there!” She calls from the door again.

You tug the door of it open, “Get in!”

You half push him inside it, “I’m so sorry, but just, just sh okay??”

He nods hastily, and you quite literally shut him in there.

“I’m coming!” You shove the takeaway cups into a kitchen cupboard and rush to the door.

Letting her in, she practically storms past you. And you pray to god you can get rid of her in a short period of time.

“I’m sorry!” You say to her, grabbing her hands.

“How could you not tell me something like that?!” She barks, shaking your arms like an angry child.

You do feel bad, because you would also be pissed if it were the other way around.

You try to explain, clutching her warm palms tighter, “To respect his privacy! I wanted to, so, so badly but I just… I didn’t want it getting out.”

She groans, pulling you in for a tight, yet still frustrated hug.

“But you know I wouldn’t have told anyone!”

“I do, i know. I’m sorry.” You embrace her, “but every time we were together there were other people… and I just hadn’t figured out how, let alone talked to him about it.”

She calms down a tiny bit, and sometimes the best way to describe her is like a miniature tornado. Her anger is very quick to bubble over and turn her into this fired up, yelling ball of energy. Yet it dissipates shortly after she lets it all out.

“Okay, well I get that, of course. But… wait are you two actually— have you slept with him?” You pull back from the hug and give her a shocked stare. Her ask stuns you for a moment.

You’re hyperaware that he is listening to this conversation.

What is he thinking right now— you can’t help but wonder. And you have to physically force yourself to push the thoughts that come with such a question aside.

“I— why would you ask me that!” You hiss at her, sounding guilty, even though you’re just throughly embarrassed.

“Because he's Harry Styles!” She exclaims, “who happens to be a very gorgeous man, and I would not be surprised if you wanted— I don't know— in his pants?”

“We are just friends!” You drag your hand down your face. Internally pleading that she stops saying embarrassing shit.

“Whatever you little liar. Acting like as if you haven't said on multiple occasions just how bad you wan—“

“OKAY!” You interrupt, trying to keep the frantic tone out of your voice, “I get it. I really do, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. But look, I have so many people I have to call and— i think my whole family also want me dead— so can we maybe get a coffee tomorrow? Talk it over, and you can ask all the questions you want.”

At your proposal, she seems to realise you mean it. And despite the confused look on her face at the fact you’re kicking her out to call what is basically her own adopted family, it seems she understands.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t wanna seem pushy. I was… just also in shock. Tomorrow at 10?” She smiles.

You start both walking over to the door, “that’s perfect.”

Tugging her into another hug, she huffs out an ‘I love you.’

You laugh and give her a chaste peck on the side of her head, “I love you too. I promise I wanted to tell you on my end. I just didn’t want to fuck anything up…”

She nods, pulling back, “I know. And if you need anything, or anyone before I see you tomorrow, don’t forget I’m only a few floors up.”

“I won’t.” You open the door for her, and bid a final goodbye. And once it’s shut, you realise how badly you want the ground beneath your feet to literally swallow you whole.

Despite the embarrassment, you quickly rush over to let Harry out of the cupboard you’d shoved him in.

And as he steps out, adorning a smirk and clearly stifling a laugh, you apologise profusely.

“God— I am so incredibly sorry.”

A proper abashed grin spreads across his face, one that flashes his dimples. Reminding you of the sign you took to the last show, telling him how pretty you thought his smile was. You still think the same.

“Kind of exciting hiding in a cupboard. I never even did it as a teenager.” He chuckles, brushing a few stray curls from his eyes.

“Do I look a little more youthful? As gorgeous as ever?” He teases.

“I am so sorry you had to hear all of that, she has a… she lacks a filter.” You excuse, cheeks flaming as you try to dig yourself out of the hole your best friend has unwittingly buried you in.

“That's okay love, but I am a little curious…”

You frown at his careful words.

He takes a step closer as he continues, “what so badly did you want to do to me that you told all your friends about?”

At this, you completely turn your face away from his green-eyed stare. Because you cannot trust yourself.

He doesn’t realise the dangerous game he’s playing with you right now. Especially while he’s standing in-front of you like this. Tattooed arms out, beautiful face and jawline on display.

“Y/N, darling. I asked a question.” His voice has turned to honey. He’s talking you in a way he never has before. With a tone that is almost demanding an answer, laced with a undertone of seduction.

“Stop it.” You hiss, flicking his solid chest with your hand.

He steps forward, and you step back in response. He backs you up all the way to the edge of your bed.

“Stop being a flirt.” You scoff, finally holding eye contact for more than a second.

His pupils have blown out a little, and the stare he’s giving you is something you want burned into the underside of your eyelids.

“Why? Is it working.” He chuckles, demeanour softening a tiny bit as his hand slides down your arm.

You don’t reply.

“Please tell me, Y/N. I want to know. Y’know I’m nosey.”

“Resorted to begging, I see.” You snort, heart still hammering behind your rib cage.

“If it works, I can do plenty of it.” He playfully remarks.

You try to not reply again, but you’re met with a silence. Somehow he knows you’re going to fill it with a fumbled half-confession.

“I don’t even really remember. I was probably tipsy on some wine. Said some stuff to… the girls. After a show.”

“After a show?” He smirks, “Which one?”

“Barcelona. And maybe back at… another. One or two others.”

“But that’s all I’m saying!” You interject, hoping he takes that as enough of an answer.

He laughs at your attempted defiance.

“Anyways, what even— what are you getting at here?” You ask, because truly, his flirting is heavily confusing you. In every way possible.

“Remember when you told me I had a the prettiest smile?” He lightly grazes your hip with his warm hand.

“I— yes. That was like, 2 weeks ago. What’s your point?” You are biting at your bottom lip.

“Don’t get feisty.” He coos, “Everytime I smile around you, I think of that. And then, I wonder what other things you think about me. What other parts you see of me and consider as pretty.”

“And, can you blame a man for wanting to know what dirty things you’ve said about him to y’friends?”

Jesus Christ. A part of you melts at his words. He is watching you like a hawk, gauging your every little reaction. But you’re clinging to any part of you that’s trying to keep this from heading in that direction. Even though you know it’s not because you don’t want to.

“We really shouldn’t… H.” You state, voice almost shaking with an unspoken need. One that you’re trying to keep from bursting through the seams.

“Why not, Y/N?” He asks, making it sound like a challenge. Causing him to be met with a quick jump in your voice.

You are pulling at every part of your strength right now to justify why this is a terrible idea.

“Because, Harry. I am a fucking fangirl for you. Not in a casual way either, like bordering a little bit insane! It’s horrifying, and very embarrassing! And this is a horrible idea, because I don’t think you understand the kind of—“ You don’t get to finish whatever you were about to say, because he kisses you. With his all.

It feels like he pours every once of his being into it. The way his smooth lips press into your own, fuelled by a heat that is felt in the very pit of your stomach. Your knees almost buckle at the sensation.

You grab his shoulder to stabilise yourself. And your lungs are already drawn of all their air.

In actuality, it mustn’t have lasted very long— maybe a couple seconds— before he pushes the back of your knees against the bed, forcing you to sit down.

He draws in a breath after you seperate, “I don’t care if you have photos of me on your fucking bedroom walls, baby.”

“Could not care less, look at you.” He leans down now, kissing over your lips again in separate, doting pecks, “y’so gorgeous, and genuine. I love that you love what I do.”

You’re in a bit of shock, looking up at him with widened eyes. Because obviously you’ve imagined kissing him before. Probably a thousand times. And that dream has somehow sprung to fruition.

How exactly? you’re still unsure.

“I— Harry.” You say, with no real purpose, clutching onto his broad shoulders.

The way you whine out his name drives him almost insane, and he drops down onto his knees between your spread legs. Giving him easier access to kiss your mouth.

His hands snake around your waist, and he lets his lips slot back over yours.

You loose yourself in the act, your own fingers skating up his back and into the hair at the nape of his neck.

It’s so fucking soft. And you use it to press his face closer to yours. He’s surprised when you’re the one to part your lips and dart your tongue out first.

Skating along his pink bottom lip as an invitation.

He accepts it happily, clutching at your waist while he lets his tongue dip into the heat of your mouth. You can’t help but groan at the sensation, and feel the warmth start to gather between your thighs.

He was kissing you like a starved man. And slowly everything you knew started slipping from the forefront of you mind. All you could feel and focus on was him.

How his muscly frame filled up your senses—and the area between your knees— paired with the glide of his tongue over your teeth.

—((sexual content from here and onwards))

His hands tracing over several parts of your body, even going to pull you closer with his hands cupping your bottom. Squeezing at the swell of your ass playfully.

You bite your teeth down onto his lip and drag it backwards, eliciting a moan from the back of his throat.

Your hips push forward, brushing the front of your shorts on his torso, causing his jaw to go lax.

The two of you seperate for air, panting, and his eyes veer south, looking at where you’re pressed against him.

“Fuckin’ Christ. Look at you, needy little thing.”

You bury your head into his neck, kissing along his sharp jawline. Unable to control your slowly circling hips.

“So, y’willing to share what it is you wanted to do to me yet? Given that you’re practically grinding on m’chest.”

You hum a maybe, and he lets out a deep laugh.

“After Barcelona,” You start, and he works to coax the answer out of you with his hands and lips.

“Mmhm…” he acknowledges, mouthing against your clavicle.

“You had looked so good that night… and I got a little tipsy after the show, back at our BNB.”

“You were in those low rise black pants, and that tiny cropped vest. And my god— i said to all the girls that if you were down, I would happily let you take me. Anyway you wanted.”

“Anyway?” His hoarse voice asks.

“Anyway. Fingers, tongue... cock.”

At the first mention of something genuinely sexual, he almost looses it. Envisioning your spread legs with his head pressed between them.

“But I didn’t just say that because I was tipsy. Or because of the outfit you wore.” You allude quietly.

He can’t wait another second before he’s pressing his already swollen lips back against yours. And hard.

“Want everything off you.” He fists at your boob-tube.

Your body is hotter than a thousand suns, and your need for him is literally tearing through you.

It’s clear this was your tipping point. There was no going back to something casual and platonic. The way your whole body ached to have him was unfathomable.

“Strip me.” You beg, arms lifting so he can tug the thin black material over your head, leaving your breasts in a strapless bra.

He runs his tongue over the exposed skin, hands sliding to the clasp at your back to get it off you.

He moans aloud once he sees you, briefly recalling the times his gaze has dipped to your cleavage in those little sundresses you wore while you were out together, and how he would always be wishing for a moment like this.

He laves his tongue over your nipple, before quickly occupying himself with the button of your shorts.

“These off too?” He confirms, voice gravelly with want.

Hastily, you nod, “Yes, all of it.”

Your sheer eagerness is turning him on even more. You always seemed a tiny bit reserved, so hearing you beg for your clothes to get torn off…

“Ass up,” he asks, watching as you lift it from the bed so he can tug the shorts from your waist and down your legs.

Left in nothing but your underwear, he slides his hand over your front to see how wet you were.

You moan as his fingers brush over your clothed-clit. And you notice now that your arousal has wet through your panties.

“Fucking hell. You realise you’re absolutely drenched, right baby?” He near moans, rubbing a gentle circle over the fabric.

“I—shit— I’m sorry, didn’t think I’d gotten so…” You’re almost a little embarrassed at the amount of arousal between your legs.

He hooks his fingers into the crotch of your underwear, peeling them down your thighs.

Your bare cunt had him almost light headed. You were genuinely glistening, and your slick had already spread to the hood of your clit.

“Darling don’t be sorry. Y’got the prettiest little pussy. Cant believe you’re this wet.”

“What did it for you, huh?” He asks finger running through you, eliciting a groan from both your throats.

In a pleasure-filled haze, you slur out a reply, “You. Just all of you.”

You squirm under his featherlight caress, and take a moment to watch him gaze at you. There is nothing but this look of admiration and desire in his eyes.

“Wanna see you, Harry.” You plea, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

He waits not a second to slip it over his head, and your hands immediately run down his torso. Staying quiet as he lets you indulge.

This is something you have thought of in a million different ways. His chest is built like that of a Greek gods, and his tattoos are an added bonus.

You feel the ridges of his abs under your fingertips, and you trace over the butterfly tattoo as well.

His breath flutters in and out of his nose. But using your hands doesn’t satiate you.

You need him on your tongue.

“Stand up.” You ask, and he doesn’t question you, he just obliges.

You keep him stood between your bare legs, but lean your neck inwards, tongue jutting out to run a solid strip up his stomach.

A rumble comes from him, akin to a growl as you move to of his pecs. Gliding your tongue over the hair-dusted flesh, and enveloping his own nipple into your mouth.

You’d never done this before, since sucking on a guys nipple is less of a commodity… but the reaction it works out of him is perfect.

The way he throws his head back, sharp jaw tilted to the celling, and hair falling from his forehead.

“Oh… oh god.”

You draw back, grabbing his shorts and pushing them down. Kissing both the laurels that sit atop his hips before cupping your hand over his bulge, covered by black Calvin Klein briefs.

“Can I take you out, please?”

“Such nice manners, good girl.”

Good girl. The words float around in your head, and something else inside of you comes undone.

Not sure if it was your self respect… or some other part of your morals. But you could go feral simply over those two words.

You bite down on your lip as you tug the briefs down, watching his cock slip up.

Lord.

You almost salivate. It’s perfect in every way you’d want it to be. A flushed red tip, dotted with beads of pre-cum. And of course it’s big.

For an already perfect man, it’s hard to believe you can strip him completely, and still not find a single flaw.

“Staring pretty hard… you a little intimated?”

“It’s big.” You state, hand coming to wrap around its thick base. “Want it in me.”

He leans down, picking you up by your thighs. You laugh in reaction, him manhandling you into the centre of your still unmade bed.

There was a sense of intimacy that was being shared as he pulled you forward, so you were straddling his hips.

Both of you leaned forward to lock lips, kissing feverishly as you touched over every inch of skin you could. Eventually, both of your hands falling between the others legs.

You stroked over him, and he careful slid his middle finger into you.

He worked you until you were near dripping down his hand, and were scraping your nails along his shoulders.

“Harry— need you…” you beg.

“Want me to take you right now?” He asks, cock throbbing in your hand.

“Yes. I can handle it. Promise. I’m clean and on birth control if you wanna go bare.”

“Only if you’re sure. I trust you.”

“I am… just want to feel you.” You plead.

“Need you to tell me how y’want it first, pretty.” He coos, curling his finger inside you.

You moan in response, and he slides it out shortly after so he regains your attention.

“I—“ you stutter, now feeling empty, “anyway you want, I said that earlier.”

“No, baby, how do you like it?” He asks again, smiling against your skin.

“Anything, hard or gentle, I’ll come either way. Look at you— as if I wouldn’t.”

He pulls your core to his, rubbing the tip against your slick hole, “Then tell me as we go how you’re doing, and what you want or need okay. Want you to feel really good, m’kay?”

You nod, and he starts to sink into you, already pulling a moan from your lips at the stretch.

He on the other hand struggles to hold himself together as your warm walls part for him.

“Fuck, fuck… you’re so tight, Y/N.” He groans, pulling you down nearly all the way— stopping before he reaches the base of his cock, taking a moment to adjust so he doesn’t come before he’s all the way in.

“Mm-“ you whine out, nails digging into the warm muscle on his back, “Harry…”

Once he’s composed himself, he lets your hips sink the down to the base of him. You both take a moment to feel it. Panting, because the heat and the connection you’re both sharing is only describable as euphoric.

“Y’okay?” He sighs out, clutching your waist with firm hands.

“Yes… so fuckin’ full.” You moan out, hole fluttering around his length.

He carefully draws his hips back, pulling out a little only to push it back in.

Just that small movement has you reeling. And you’re quick to realise that this is probably going to be the best sex you’ve ever fucking had.

“Look at that, your cunt swallowing me up. So fuckin’ hot.” He whispers, slowly starting to pick up the pace.

His fingers move to play with your clit, and he notices the reaction that courses through your body the second he rolls it between his fingers.

You buck your hips against him, and he brings his lips down to suck on the side of your breast.

“Mark me.” You encourage, wanting him to leave you with bruises from his mouth.

“Dirty thing,” he moans, fucking up into you, “so fucking wet too. All f’me isn’t it?”

The dirty talk causes you to clench around him, and he picks up on it.

“Jesus, you really are? Like when I say dirty stuff too, clearly.” He grunts.

“Yes, fuck! Please touch me.” You ask, needing to feel more of him, to the point it consumes your senses.

He touches you almost everywhere, with his hands, lips, tongue. All over your body until you genuinely can’t think of anything else.

It leaves your body shaking, and he can tell you’re not going to last much longer going by the clenching of your cunt.

“I’m gonna come if you keep squeezing around me like tha’.” He curses, keeping a fast pace with his hips as you feel the beginning of your high approaching.

It starts to bubble up in the pit of your stomach, “God— you’re so deep.”

“Yea, love? Feel me all the way up here?” He splayed his hand on your lower abdomen and you nod.

“Gonna come soon… please.” Your thighs are going weak from trying to hold your body up, and he notices, flipping you around so he’s on top of you.

The new angle has you biting down on your palm to try and stop yourself from crying out.

“Taking it so well. M’not far off either, baby.” He groans, his thrusts faltering as he bottoms out.

He pushes two fingers past your lips, allowing your tongue to swirl over them before he is removing them. Taking them down to rub over your swollen clit.

The added stimulation is what’s going to tip you over the edge.

“H—fuck—Harry! I’m gonna come!” You moan out, nails scraping down his bicep.

“Good fucking girl,” he prompts, fingers flicking over your clit, “let it all go for me, gush all over my cock.”

His words send you spiralling. And they’re the final push you need before your cunt clamps down around him with a loud moan tearing out of you.

“Fuckfuckfuck!” You’re writhing around him, and he curses at how tight you’re clenching him.

“That’s it, keep fucking going— ride it out on me.” He hisses, hips finally faltering as he feels his cock come inside of you.

Twitching between your warm walls as his stomach muscles contract and ripple with the intensity of his release.

He near buckles on top of you, his body weight pressing against you. And The two of you are panting, still shivering out slight aftershocks of your orgasms.

His forehead rests against yours, and you lean forward to brush a kiss against his parted lips.

Gently, he pulls himself out. A tiny hiss coming from his lips at the sensitivity.

He rolls over, bringing you to lay down on top of him. And you feel the partial heaving of his damp chest below you.

“Thank you…” You mumble out, sounding almost shy.

He picks up on it, “Don’t sound so nervous, darling. Y’were amazing.”

This brings a smile across your lips. It’s safe to assume that maybe things around you are complicated. But actually between the two of you, it’s anything but.

You like him, so much. So you just say it.

“I like you, Harry.”

And he affirms your statement with a kiss to your temple, and says quietly, “I like you too, Y/N. A lot.”

And this feels like an unspoken agreement that maybe the media is only going to get more riled up about the two of you as time goes on, but what you have is something genuinely worth fighting for.

Plus… they already know so, what’s the worse that could really happen now?

———

that was a long one!! hope you all loved it, and thank you so much for the support on this series. and don’t worry, you will definitely still be seeing more of them in the future. 🤍

taglist:

@harrystylesgirlie @purple9950 @teamspideyman @rociolunaa21 @spiritofbuddha @lemonhrry @deamus-liv @Iquvlly @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @hsfanficsrecss @hsstylesrings @saturnheartz @victoriasigaard @lilfreakjez @mrsvxder @skxawngs @theekyliepage @hannah9921 @shiffpring @multifandomsw @roslastyles420 @slutforcoffein @kittenhere @stylesfever @butterfly-lover @daniizstyles @padf00ts-l0ver @sunflowervol18 @laurxn-robinson @kkr102 @superlegend216 @jerseygirlinca @cherrysulewski

+ all the anons who sent stuff to my submission box, thank you to you guys too, all my love

[libingan]

— woven from shadows.

summary: two killers meet in the shadows of an abandoned warehouse. one is a master of charm and deception, the other, a figure shrouded in menace. despite their differences, one thing remains clear: they’re both cut from the same dark cloth.

a/n: IM ALIVE!! ive had this idea for DAYS yo, im so glad i can finally write again!!!

enjoy some killer! simon x killer! fem reader teehee

might make a part two, but it rlly depends on how much this shit eats

the warehouse is a relic from a forgotten era, its rusted metal frame creaking under the weight of years. the broken windows filter in sickly beams of moonlight, casting long, jagged shadows across the dust-covered floor. piles of rotting wooden crates and rusting machinery are scattered around, relics of a time when this place was alive with the hum of industry. now, it’s silent, the only sound the occasional drip of water from a leaking pipe, a steady rhythm that seems to count down to something inevitable. the air is thick with the scent of rust and decay, a perfect place for someone like you.

you’ve spent the better part of the night weaving through the labyrinth of the warehouse, playing with your prey like a cat with a mouse. he thought he could hide from you, but they all think that—right up until they don’t. the thrill of the chase had your blood singing, a familiar rush of adrenaline and anticipation. you left him bleeding in a dark corner, his gasping breaths echoing in the silence as you walked away. it was a clean kill, but nothing special. just another body to add to your collection.

but something feels off tonight. a sense of unease has been gnawing at you since you arrived, something in the air that doesn’t sit right. it’s like you’re not alone, like there’s someone else in the shadows, watching, waiting. you’re not sure what it is, but it pulls you deeper into the warehouse, toward something—or someone.

and that’s when you see him.

he’s just a shape at first, barely visible in the gloom, but there’s something about the way he moves that catches your attention. he’s not like your usual prey—there’s no panic, no desperation. just calm, calculated steps, as if he’s been hunting you just as much as you’ve been hunting him. it sends a shiver down your spine, a thrill of excitement that you haven’t felt in a long time.

as you step into a large open space in the heart of the warehouse, where the roof has partially collapsed, allowing a shaft of moonlight to spill across the floor, you finally get a good look at him. he’s tall, broad-shouldered, wearing tactical gear that’s seen better days. his face is hidden behind a skull mask, the hollow eyes staring back at you, unreadable. but it’s his stance that really catches your attention—rigid, controlled, like he’s ready to strike at any moment.

he’s like you, you realize. cut from the same cloth. a predator in a world full of prey. but unlike your usual targets, he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t show any sign of fear or hesitation. if anything, he seems... curious.

you smile, a slow, sly grin as you step closer, deliberately drawing his attention. “fancy seeing someone like you here,” you say, your voice light, almost teasing. “i thought i had this place to myself.”

he doesn’t respond, doesn’t even move. those dark eyes behind the mask stay locked on you, watching, waiting. the silence stretches on, heavy and suffocating, but you don’t let it get to you. you’ve dealt with the strong, silent type before. you know how to break them.

“let me guess,” you continue, circling him slowly, “you’re one of those types who thinks brooding in the dark makes them mysterious. but me? i prefer a little conversation before things get... messy.”

still nothing. his silence is almost unnerving, but you push through, trying to get a read on him. there’s something about him, something that tells you he’s not just another killer. he’s more than that, something darker, something dangerous. and it makes your blood sing.

you inch closer, testing the waters. “tell me,” you whisper, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone, “what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this? looking for someone, maybe? or are you just here to watch?”

and that’s when you feel it—the cold press of steel against your throat. the knife is sudden, swift, and it takes everything in you not to flinch. instead, you grin, a slow, wicked curve of your lips as you stare up at him, eyes gleaming with defiance. you’ve met killers before, but this one... this one is different. this one is like you.

his voice is a low, gravelly growl when he finally speaks, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “you talk too much.”

you don’t falter, meeting his gaze with a smirk that’s all teeth. “and you don’t talk enough.”

for a long, tense moment, neither of you moves. the knife stays where it is, a silent threat, while your heart pounds in your chest. but fear isn’t what you feel—no, it’s something far more dangerous, far more intoxicating. the thrill of a worthy opponent, of someone who won’t break so easily.

slowly, deliberately, he lowers the knife, but his hand doesn’t leave your skin. instead, he tilts your chin up, forcing you to hold his gaze, as if daring you to make the next move. the tension between you crackles, electric and suffocating, and you know, without a doubt, that this isn’t over. not by a long shot.

you’ve finally met your match. and you can’t wait to see who wins.

[semischarmed]

Exterior

You lick your lips and let out a soft breath.

“Goddamn, what a looker,” you mouth silently.  

A thick crown of chestnut hair frames a strong face with angelic features. Brown eyes glint with a hint of olive in the sunlight.

You’ve seen him before, you think- at the airport after break. Probably an athlete for the university.

Sure, he was hot at the airport, but everybody always is. Seeing him out here though, out in the real world? Really fucking hot.

You struggle to remain inconspicuous as your eyes greedily stay on subject. As if sensing your stare, his brow furrows as he looks in your general direction. You dodge glances last minute, cursing your lack of self control.

Anyone looking at you could probably see the longing in your glance, the hunger, the desperation to stay fixated at his visage. Anyone looking would see lust clouding your mind, the hint of a dangerous smiling painting your face, hiding the untold horrors in planning. But, you were never one to be seen, to be perceived. Always a background character in someone else’s story. He would be correcting that.  

When the coast was clear, your eyes rush back to feast on his image. He sits with some friends, adam’s apple gently bobbing up and down as he chatted, hair waving in the breeze like hands beckoning you inside. Everyone in the group seems relatively loose and relaxed, aside from him. One makes a joke, causing the rest to laugh. He gives a grimace, mimicking a smile. Though likely off-putting to some, that hardy exterior only manages to drive your lust deeper.

Another pats him on the back, and your heart stirs. Somewhat deceptive given his limber form, you only note how dull the smack sounds. It’s a confirmation to you. A confirmation that this man is dense and packed to the brim with muscle. Your mouth watered at the sight of that musculature tensing before relaxing. A brief glimpse in the raw power brimming inside that cute bundle of flesh.

“Peter, c’mon… lighten up bro,” they say. Peter. Aha, so that was his name. You repeat the name softly under your breath. “Peter…Petey…Pete”. It has a nice ring to it. In your mind, you relay the events with his friends instead directly calling *you* Peter. Your mouth pulls into a smile as your dick stirs. You rub it lightly, feeling a little pre leak at the thought “Mmmhmm. Peter. Call me Petey. Has a nice ring to it”

After several more minutes of jokes between friends, you finally catch one to break his facade. There it was. A genuine smile. A beautiful smile. A delicious smile.

You had to have it.

- - -

You sneak into the locker that Saturday. As you do, you slowly close each door, locking it. Ensuring none could block the consummation your life and Peter’s.

Like a snake in the grass, you slowly make your way to the lonesome Peter, sitting on a bench and panting after a game. A slight scent of flowers drifts through the air. As you move closer, the scent of his laundry fades and makes way to the damp, drying sweat soaking his shirt. Must have been a tough match.

His musk feels divine. If you could, you would have stopped time to just lay there, drunk in the scent that was Peter post-match. But you would have all the time in the world to bless yourself in that sun-drenched Peter flavor you craved. Plus, you knew you had to be quick. A body- especially an athlete’s body like this would be  incredibly resilient. You need to do this now, while he was sore and immeasurably tired.

He takes a swig while you approach. Putting down the bottle, he pants and looks up at you through sweat-stained vision.

“Uhhh.. can I help you dude?” He asks.

“I just wanted to say, I’m a huge fan”.

“Thanks bro,” He says.

“Just looking at the way you fly through the court. Amazing.” A bold-faced lie, having skipped his match to prep this empty locker room.

“Thanks,” he states plainly.

“And the way those hot, hot muscles propel you forward…”

You motion to hug him. He tries to pull away but you’re quick to embrace him. He feels a prick in his shoulder as you dose him.

You feel his post-game sweat drip off his skin and over yours, and lust overrides reason. You can’t help but squeeze tighter and tighter.

“The way that perky ass jiggles when you walk... I bet you’re packing too, aren’t you?”

His face, initially cringing in awkward tension, now shifts to disgust as he tries to push you away. Blind in pleasure, you inch even closer and wrap your legs around that ass, as he feels your dick sandwiched between your two torsos harden.

“And that face… goddamn what a face. I bet it’d be amazing to wear it. To look at your friends through it and hear them call me your name.” In frenzy, you begin grinding your stiffened dick into the heat of the closeness of your two bodies pressed together. “…to hear your own mother call me Peter. FUCK! I can’t wait to be Peter!” You whimper as you felt cum shoot out, staining your shorts and his. As a bit of your cum lands his flesh, he is finally able to shake off the initial shock.

“Sick fucking FREAK!” He spits at your face as he pushes hard, leaving you several feet away. It draws blood and immediate pain, but you could only feel the hunger to have that might as your own to wield.

You corral the spit onto your tongue, sucking and savoring the taste of your future mouth.

“Man… fuck… so that’s what kissing us would taste like” you tease. You could practically taste the vitality brimming from his body.

He looks as if he’s about to gag, and begins to gesture moving away. He panics when he feels his movements slow.

“Honestly, with that tight fucking bod, I’m not sure how long before you break free of this.”

You begin to prep, stripping both your bodies naked. His head attempts to shake in defiance when he sees you pull two syringes from your pocket. You wink before jamming one into your arm and one into his.

The effects are instant, you feel your senses dull. You also feel your own body begin to soften as you move towards the naked Peter. After a few moments, your senses start pick up and explode and blend together. Every heartbeat, blood vessel, and neuron. You feel intimate control over every piece. It was overwhelming at first, truly feeling every bit of yourself. Looking at Peter, you knew you didn’t want to wait any longer to feel every bit of his.

You line your cocks together, pointing at each other. You then knead your dick slowly. Slit touches slit before inside begin to touch inside. Resistance bubbles in him as you see his arms clench and unclench, and his face wince at the foreign intrusion.

You sigh for a moment, admiring your handiwork. Peter’s dick appeared to be swallowing yours. That was partially true. You knew what you had actually done. Inside Peter’s dick lay your own, turned inside out so that both your insides faced each other.

He tries to scream, but can’t muster a sound beyond a low moan as you continue to knead and push and overlay more of your insides into his, your body turning inside out in the safety of his body. He sees your malleable form appear to deflate as more of your innards took flow in his.

“…aaaaAAAAAA. FUCKK.. FUUUUCK” He screamed. He starts to wiggle out the confines of his paralysis.

You know time is limited. In a rush, you use your nerves to commandeer his, swallowing all control of his dick as your own.

He screams and kicks in horror as he watches his own cock swallow inch upon inch of you like a worm. It happens in moments, and the force of the intrusion rocks his hips back, as his body makes room for you. His belly distends from all the added mass, causing him to lose balance and collapse.

“Oh god, oh god” he whimpers, as he gently feels his new belly, afraid of what was now inside him, what he could now no longer reach.

In the safety of your future body, you slow down, feeling yourself dissolve into a mass of parts.

Peter feels it in his legs first. Like millions of threads beneath his flesh, burrowing into his sinew. You don’t leave a crevice in the man untouched. In every part of his powerful legs, you weave and intertwine your fibers into his. He thrashes them in a tantrum, but the movement only causes him further displeasure, as he feels his own taught skin and muscle squeeze into wriggling masses. Into fusion.

You make quick work of his arms as well, greedily swallowing and interlacing whole pieces of Peter’s dense muscle fibers into yours. He screams as he feels his muscles in his biceps tear and repair themselves, fortified and irreversibly bonded to your fibers. With the half control you now had over his arms, you run them along his body and defile himself, dancing his fingers across and feeling every inch of your future self.

You make a quick stop at his heart, embracing it with your flesh to feel its power. There was a warmth in knowing this would soon be yours. He really was an athlete. You could feel the sheer energy in every pump.

After admiring your future core for a few moments, you decide to hijack it for yourself, pumping Peter’s heart full of your threads. Like a virus, you flood into his bloodstream, carried by the very organ that gives Peter his power. He’s unable to do anything aside from watch, as every vein and artery of his being pulse and writhe with you inside them. It takes a just a few pumps of the athlete’s heart to leave every juncture of his flesh connected to you. At last, you feel yourself in his own blood, coursing through him. If you had lips, you would lick them in anticipation at the last bastion of the old Peter- his head.

He squirms and smashes his head into the floor repeatedly, as he feels your fleshy mass slowly traveling up his vascular neck.

“I’m me! I’m me!” He repeats as he feels your brain touch his.

He grips his head in pain at first contact. Inside, your brain folds begin to slip into his, coalescing. The process is acutely violating for him, as he feels your thoughts inside of his own mind. Like a thousand needles, you inject every piece of your mind into his.

He pulls at his hair while trying to shake you off when he feels your sick perversions course inside him, then begins to get lightheaded as they start to come from him. He retches as he feels the thrill of possession, of violating his own flesh come from his own mind. Still, you made sure to keep the original Peter strung up and intact inside your shared mind. Something about keeping every bit of him tethered to you only riled you up further.

Breaths ragged, and screaming turned feral, he shouts one last war cry, as the last individuated pieces of yourself and his join and merge into one.

- - -

Your eyes blink open, woken by afternoon sun peering from the skylight.

You stand up groggy in the locker room as you try to piece the day’s events.

As you do, some stray hairs fall in front, and you see their gentle curl glow caramel in the filtered sunlight. “oh my god… oh my god,” you moan.

Upon hearing your velvety new baritone, your moan upgrades into a soft scream. You look down, seeing your new, long legs pushing you towering over your previous height, and the sun-tanned Peter-flesh and hairs now encapsulating them. ‘Fucking Stud’, you bite his lip.

Even standing, you could feel them brimming with power. You swing his arms back and forth, relishing in the control and precision they now had. Virile. Absolute god bod. You glance at the rest of your new, permanent meatsuit- Dick, already rock-hard and pulsating, abs, defined and glistening in the afternoon glow.

You slap your new cheeks, feeling them flush and jiggle with youth. Your Peter face pulls into a smile, wider and wider.

“I’m me, I’m me” you mock. “Welcome home, me”. You make him say to you.

His resilience, his power, his fucking body… yours.  

“FUCK! Oh God! Yes! Ugh… Fucking Mine. You’re all mine!” You scream. The pleasure is overstimulating, and you fall in a pool of your new body’s sweat.

His body. Yours. All muscle underneath. All at your whim. Molded, corrupted and rewired to betray its original owner and keep you forever locked safe inside.

His brain, his thoughts- last remnants of resistance that you keep as a souvenir. His own agency now tied to you. Through his brain, you feel Peter try to reign control, and in amusement you feel these thoughts pass through you.

Outside, his body spasms as he slowly regains sovereignty. He struggles to get up, body aching from the violation his insides endured. As he gets back up, he walks to the locker room mirror with worry in his eyes, trying catch anything out of the ordinary. He checks his face first, turning his neck from side to side. Slight relief paints Peter’s face.

He lifts his arms next, checking if they still listened to him. He begins to think he overshot the movement as his arms continue moving. Instead, horror begins to dawn on his face as his own hands run through his hair before landing on the back of his head. He trembles as he again wrestles for control. In concentration, drool escapes his lips and sweat dots his furrowed brow as his arms continue to shake but steadily move into a new position. Your position. They lock into a flex.

Slowly, Peter’s eyes blink close and face crinkles before wordlessly screaming into uncharacteristic pleasure. Then, those beautiful brown eyes with a hint of olive stare back, those beautiful lips smile back as you breath Peter’s air into the mirror, fogging it up for a moment before revealing his face swimming in perverse pleasure.

“…I-you-we feel fucking amazing. You think I’m ever leaving this fine, fine piece of ass? Bro? Bro… get real. I am never fucking leaving.”

Peter’s hands cup his own plump ass, squeezing tight. His vocal cords relay your moan, stifled by the slight pain.

With that, you reign back control of every cell and strand of sinew of your new flesh. You tune back into the folds of your brain inside of his, into his very thoughts and let his unburdened rage wash over you. Rage turns to revulsion as he promptly feels his own dick betray him and begin to throb. You love the feeling of his inner turmoil, his endless perseverance. Interspersed was the euphoria you felt in controlling his body, in wearing it as your own.

You also love it because these were his heightened emotions, raw and intoxicating, now turned internally, redirected. You fuel those very same emotions to his insides, causing them to tighten and squeeze the parts of you bonded to an eternal internal embrace even tighter.

A flex of the now-drenched hand and a slight scowl of triumph paints Peter’s face. He’s yours.

Everything he ever was, is and will be. Yours at last.

- - -

A few days later, a dormmate comes to your room. Apparently, the entire dorm had some form of event in a nearby beach.

You turn around and begin to remove your shirt before his eyes. As you do, you feel Pete’s struggle manifest as a muscle spasm. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF ME, I’M NOT EVEN GAY” He shouts and screams in defiance. You moan internally. In truth, you could tell his dick didn’t budge for men. Doesn’t matter. You pant softly as it hardens anyway, forced against its very nature into your own whims. This was your fuckstick, your cum to do with as you pleased. It felt fucking good to have him inside there with you fighting. Like a constant reminder that he was yours. You never wanted to take this divine body for granted.

“W-Why me?” He whimpers internally.

“Honestly bro? Something about you just felt right, your-our face. And that body? As soon as I saw it. I knew we were meant to be one.”

He’s silent after that.

Outside, all one would see is a single tear, escaping your new set of eyes, and you take a moment to relish his angst. As if to taunt him, you lick the tear, closing your eyes and smiling seductively. Internally, you grab Peter’s sense of self, snuggling into his personality as you feel your face externally begin to adopt his serious demeanor. These moments were always the best. When you were truly enveloped by Peter in all levels. Like when you called your new mother and father for the first time, and heard them call you their son. It was an actualization of your new identity. And it always made your stolen dick throb.

“So, uhhh, anyway… I’m Nate” The dormmate stammers as he stares at your defined musculature. The blushing Nate was quite a looker himself. You look back with disinterest and a cockiness previously uncharacteristic of Peter. Nate’s face looks disheartened.

Using your athlete strength, you rush him to the ground, grinding Peter’s sweaty bod into his and forcing your spit-lubed tongue into his gasp of surprise.

With your expert control over every piece of your new body, you snake Peter’s tongue over Nate’s, constricting it like a python. Likewise, You snake your new powerful arms and legs over his, locking him into your grinding hips. You tear away from the kiss savagely with a pop, and breath right over his face. “My body’s fucking hot isn’t it?”.

“F-fuckkkk” Nate huffed as his eyelids fluttered. You spot a growing stain on his board shorts and laugh callously in a way that just felt natural in body like Peter’s. “Bro, we gotta work on your fucking stamina”.

“Oh yeah… call me Petey,” you giggle, before pulling your lips into a wide-brimming smile.

-End-

Aaand that’s a wrap. What’d you think?

If you liked this story, surrender your body to me- work just keeps getting busier and busier, I swear I need another body or two to keep up with all of it haha.

[pictureinme]

kinktober day iii. ROLE-PLAY – robert fischer

word count: ~800 tags: d/s dynamics, teacher rp, spanking, rimming, hand jobs masterlist | ao3

“You’ve been a bad boy, haven’t you, Mr. Fischer?”

He looks up at you from his kneeling position on the floor, eyes nervous and flitting everywhere, “Yes, ma’am… I’ve been bad.”

Smirking, you circle him. You’re donned in a very cheap Halloween costume that was labeled “Tantalizing Teacher,” something that caught Robert’s eye while browsing the web. Admittedly, you were intrigued by it too, knowing his tendency to… submit, and he immediately put it in his cart. You paired it with the sluttiest red heels you could find, towering over him easily.

Tilting his chin up with your ruler, you pout, “Am I supposed to pity you?”

“No, no, not at all.”

“Then what do I do with bad boys like you, hm? Do I just let them off easy?”

The edge of the ruler traces his jawline, threatening to slap him at any given moment, “I think you punish them, ma’am.”

“Finally, a good answer from you. Why aren’t you this receptive in class, Mr. Fischer? We could’ve avoided all this… unless you wanted it?”

A sweat droplet forms on his forehead as you move the ruler to rest on his quivering bottom lip, “I just want you, Miss, that’s all.”

You roll your eyes, huffing, “Take your slacks off and get on the bed, ass up. Now.”

Robert scrambles upwards, unbuckling his belt with no precision whatsoever. The desperation was evident as he was left only in his boxers, a wet spot forming on the fabric. He crawls onto the bed, never making eye contact with you for fear of breaking any boundaries of the scene.

He followed your directions to a T, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip at the humiliating position he was in. His ass was practically shaking with anticipation, eager for whatever you would give him.

“Desperate to be punished, aren’t you? Pathetic, really.”

You hear Robert try to bite back a whimper, and you don’t hesitate to smack him with the ruler. His noises fail to cease, and you know what you have to do. You slide your damp panties down your legs, “Turn around.”

Hesitantly, Robert turns, struggling to stay somewhat in his aforementioned position. You pick up your knickers and shove them between his freshly bitten lips.

“Now, if you manage to make any noise with that in your mouth, you’re not cumming for a week.”

The fear in his eyes is obvious, but he obeys your command, nodding. Robert gets back into position, albeit more nervously. You smile at the control you have over this otherwise powerful man– you’ve seen the way a simple hand gesture could give him the world, but not in this room.

You trace the seams of his boxers with the ruler, giving him a false sense of security. When you snap it back on him, he jerks forward, but makes no sound, “Good boy.”

Robert’s shoulders shudder at your praise, he was so easy to please in this particular headspace. You move his boxers down his quivering thighs, watching as his hole flutters eagerly. How bold was his body to assume you’d grace him with a toy tonight when this was his punishment?

With his underwear now out of the way, you spread his cheeks harshly, and spit dead-center. Robert lurches forward involuntarily, but you don’t reprimand him for it. He had bigger things to worry about controlling as you licked a stripe up his entrance. You heard a muffled groan from him and laughed as you continued to touch him in ways you’d never done before.

You grip tightly at his leaking hardness, beginning to inch your tongue slowly into him. Robert trembles slightly in your hand, and you grin as you lick inside. Beginning to pump him harshly, but slowly, his back arches into your touch. It was so painful, but so good.

He shakes as you touch him in such filthy ways, but he can’t deny the fact that this was the hardest he had ever been in his life. Every time your hand moves up and down, the flick of your wrist makes him feel closer and closer. This doesn’t go unnoticed by you as your tongue goes even deeper inside of Robert, his tightness doing nothing to stop you.

“Gonna come for me, big boy?” He hesitates before nodding vehemently, deciding not to risk making noise. “Better clean it up after, hm?”

Robert continues to nod as you increase your pace and kiss around his hole. He can’t handle the gentle yet dominant persona you suddenly took on, and he thrusts pathetically into your touch. His moans break through the thin barrier of your panties, desperate and submissive.

You grin as his hot release spills all over your fingers and the duvet, his hole clenching around nothing as you leave a biting kiss on his reddened cheek. Robert collapses onto the bed face-first with a groan, continuously shaking into his orgasm.

His sorry little movements had you kissing all over his cheeks down to the crook of his knees, “You did so good, Robert, so fucking good for me…”

[lipglossanon]

The anon who sent the long puppy boy Leon blurb is back and brain rotting.

Imagine bringing Leon back to the shelter for a visit. You make sure to stress to him that you aren’t returning him, that he’s still your good boy, that you’re only bringing him to visit the other hybrids that he misses. You make sure to have his collar on him, maybe a little tighter than usual so he can feel the weight of it on him, grounding him through it all that he’s still yours.

Once leon knows that he’s not going back permanently, just to visit, he’s excited! He wants to help the other puppies train so they can be good boys, wants to brag that his owner is so sweet and nice and lets him scent her by hugging her! But more importantly, he wants to talk to the dog men about how to help his puppy cock. See, Leon has had boners before you, but now, it feels like every time you make his tail wag, he’s leaking cum into his pants. You’re gonna notice the amount of laundry soon, and Leon is worried you’ll actually return him if you find out just what his puppy cock is doing. So he goes to the older dog men, and asks how to make him stop leaking cum every where. The older dog tease him for his over excited puppy cock, but they see how anxious he is about this and tell him there is something he can wear that’ll stop his puppy cock from getting hard, which should stop him from cumming every where every time you so much as look at him. He gets one from the shelter (after begging the volunteer to not say anything to you, and he’s making himself sick at the thought of you finding out so the volunteer has to agree).

He puts it on, and though it feels wrong to not have his puppy cock out and ready to hump things the second you so much as look his way, he’s hopeful that this will stop his leaking. And it does! Kinda… he’s not getting hard (though he wants to, he can feel his dick wanting to swell, the knot begging to form for you) but he’s still cumming whenever he gets too excited or close to you. Actually, it might even be making him worse because he’s more sensitive now, and he’s found himself trying to hump even when in his device. His puppy cock is so sensitive and filled with even more cum because of the sensitivity. But he doesn’t want to risk not wearing it when you’re home because then you’ll find out and you’ll hate him!!

Finally, one day you come home to see puppy boy Leon humping your pillow with the cage still on. Every other hump has cum leaking from his puppy cock, yet he still keeps going. You coo and call for your puppy to tell you what’s happening, and he does, even as he keeps cumming because your near him with his puppy cock exposed. So you tell him he doesn’t have to be caged up, he can use his puppy cock and fill you will all the cum he’s been wasting and the words make him cum for like 8 minutes straight, the largest load you’ve ever seen, and he’s still in the cage. Getting him out of the cage and inside you, it’s like you bought a fucking machine because even when he’s cumming, he just keeps fucking into you nonstop, and your tummy is swelling a bit from being so filled with cum and he’s not stopping, mind completely broken and all he knows is to hump and cum as he whimpers and whines.

(I tried to not add any piss stuff this time around, even though I love the idea of subby little puppy boys not being able to control what leaks out of their dicks because they’re too dumb and horny to control themselves, just in case some people dislike that stuff)

Anon!!! 🫣

I love your blurbs!! And send whatever you want into my inbox (within reason, I don’t legally need to know if you’ve killed a man 🤭). So if you like piss, then add it to your thoughts no sense in censoring yourself hehe

But anon, holy moly! 🥵😵‍💫🫠🫠

A cock cage for little puppy Leon cause he just can’t help himself???? 💀 🤤 and he keeps going and going? 😮‍💨 damn anon got me thinking silly thoughts now 🥴

I’m serious about you writing your own fics 👀 I think you’d do great 😌 but I’m more than happy for you to keep swinging by instead 🤭

[regscupid]

9/21 prompt: miracle - past MCD, reanimation (875 words) - @jegulus-microfic

It stormed the night James lost Regulus, and it storms the night he gets him back.

The rain comes down in heavy sheets, slamming against the windows in a torrential downpour. There would be leaks in the ceiling, but James will deal with that in the morning. He’ll spend his night under his duvet, doing whatever he can to block out the booms of thunder and flashes of that night.

Flooding streets. The screeching of tires. A phone ringing.

He almost doesn’t hear the knocking. When it breaks through to him, he doesn’t hesitate to slip out of his bed and make his way to his front door. Sometimes Sirius shows up during nights like this, the one other person who understands. The one other person who is haunted by the rain and the ghosts that linger in it.

There’s another knock when he reaches the door. He allows himself one moment, just one, to brace himself for the crashing sound of the rain against concrete that would overwhelm him as soon as he turned the handle. There was something else as well, a trickle of dread spreading through his veins telling him to turn back around, don’t open the door. But he could never leave Sirius out there, not when nights like this hurt him just as they do James.

For the first time in nearly a year, the sounds of that night wash away into a dull hum when the eyes that meet his aren’t those of his best friend. Though they did come from the same place.

Grey eyes blink at him and James thinks maybe his grief is taunting him, making him hallucinate because simply losing the love of his life wasn’t enough. But he looks so, so real.

“James?” He sounds real too, soft and sweet in the way he reserved for only James. James shakes his head and rubs his eyes, his breathing growing slightly erratic. “Baby? What’s wrong?”

“No.” James presses his palms into his eyes hard as he backs up, keeps backing up until his back hits the wall on the other side of the room.

“James,” Cold, wet hands catch up with him and gently circle his wrists. The press of his fingers into his skin so tangible James all but whimpers.

“You’re dead. You’re dead, what—what the fuck is this?” James whispers.

“Dead? Baby, I’m right here.” He lifts James’ right hand to his neck, holding his fingers to his pulse. Then he lifts James’ other hand to his heart. They beat in unison, a steady thump thump thump, a direct contrast to the rapidness of James’ own. “See?”

James slowly opens his eyes again, and Regulus’ face is inches from his own. He’s paler than James remembers, and a little grey around the edges, but just as beautiful.

“Reg…” he whispers. Regulus breaks into a smile and it's just as James sees in his dreams, though it’s a bit off— like a puzzle piece that just almost fits. “How are you… love, you’ve been dead for a year.”

Regulus frowns and pushes the hair on James’ forehead back soothingly.

“What are you talking about? I was here yesterday.”

James gapes at him.

“No. No, I haven’t seen you since last February. When- when I—” When I identified your body. His voice cracks and stops abruptly. He can't help it as he reaches to hold Regulus’ face; still not entirely convinced this is real.

Regulus’ frown deepens, but he tilts his head further into James’ hand.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Regulus’ gaze goes distant for just a moment before his undivided attention is back on James, piercing through him like a blade, “I don’t know what’s going on, I-I’m having a hard time remembering, but I’m tired and hungry. And I’m soaking wet. I’m going to take a shower.”

He runs his hand through James’ hair one final time before he’s up and out of the room. James wants to stop him, to do more to understand, but he watches unmoving as Regulus makes his way up the stairs. He doesn’t move until he hears the water running in his bathroom, then forces himself to walk into the kitchen on shaky legs. He goes through the motions of making tea. Two mugs, one with cream and sugar for himself, and one without for Regulus.

Somewhere between the whistling of the kettle and the shower shutting off, a switch flips in James’ mind. He doesn’t care if he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t care if he spent the last year as a whisper of his former self, resigned to never seeing the one person he’d ever really want to see ever again. Because he’s here. Smiling. Using up James’ hot water. Alive.

It’s a miracle, what else could it be? Regulus was back, how could he ever allow himself to question it? Something, somewhere brought Regulus back to him. James would be damned if he let anything take him away again.

So, he doesn’t question it. When Regulus comes back into the kitchen and eats two-thirds of the refrigerator’s contents, or when James runs his fingers over waxy ice-cold skin, or when Regulus mixes sugar into his tea– James doesn’t question it.

It’s a miracle, afterall.

[belle--ofthebrawl]

@jesusbutbetterrr for Ghoulette Appreciation Week, we have trans!Mist and Sunshine.

Some hot cocklette before bed, anyone? Fresh hot cocklette. Get it while it's nice and warm.

Nasty under the cut. Let me know if we need more tags. Sunny got a little in over her head here...

“Are you going to put it in your mouth yet?” Mist asks, flicking a page of her magazine in boredom. “Or will you just keep playing with it?”

“Wanna keep playing with it,” Sunny whines as she lays a gentle kiss to the base of Mist’s little cock, kept soft and still by the water ghoulette’s own magic. Super unfair but Sunny’s fatal flaw is that she can't resist a challenge. Besides, she's seen Dew cum with a barely chubby dick about half a dozen times, so it can't be that hard.

Mist raises an eyebrow as Sunny snickers at the pun but has the sense not to ask. She just sighs as Sunny rolls the foreskin back between her fingers, watching the cute tip of it peek out before she lets it hide away again. Repeats the motion and rubs the head this time, circling the slit with the pad of her thumb like she would with a clit. Mist sighs and Sunny’s pretty sure she heard the faintest tinge of pleasure to it. Sunny echoes the sigh, breathing the scent of Mist in deep where it's the strongest. She could spend all day buried between those thighs and never worry about coming up for air.

Mist’s leg twitches and Sunny smiles to herself. Noses at her cock before lifting it to lick a hot little line up and Mist’s next exhale comes out shuddery. Sure, she was using her powers to an unfair advantage but Sunny had been teasing her for the better part of an hour and soft didn't mean senseless.

“Can I use my mouth now?” She teases.

“If you want.” Mist replies. The magazine hides her face but Sunny already knows she's flushed pink behind its pages.

She moans, deliberately, as she takes the head into her mouth so Mist can feel the vibrations the whole way Sunny sinks down. One of the water ghoulette's hands drops, twists against the corner of a pillowcase. She's such a perfect little morsel like this, Sunny thinks. Only keeps that cool façade up so no one can tell how sensitive she is under the tight lacings of her uniform. Dew probably gets it from her, come to think. Whoever mentored a new summon tended to show up in their personality.

Too bad for Mist that Swiss had taken Sunny under his wing, so to speak. She hasn't stopped humming. Mist hasn't stopped twitching. Her hips were starting to rock in the most minute and needy of ways, thighs inching wider to give Sunny more room to work. Her hum turns into a purr, the taste of victory nearly on her tongue. A hand tangles itself in her curls, pressing Sunny's nose into the soft skin of Mist’s white underbelly like she's daring Sunny to take advantage of the weakness.

“You’ve got a long way to go.” Mist says nonchalantly. “Getting me hard is one thing. Getting me to cum is something completely different.”

Sunny makes a confused sound around her mouthful but all it earns her is a chuckle.

“Silly puppy.” Mist says kindly, petting through her hair. “I can keep myself empty for as long as I like, you know.”

She blinks slowly as the cock in her mouth finally starts to swell with blood, a lazy throbbing in the veins that Sunny could lose just as quick if she doesn't act fast. And then it dawns on her as Mist casually slings a leg across Sunny’s back, effectively trapping her there, pinned with her drool leaking onto Mist’s skin.

“Swiss would have never taken such an obviously rigged bet.” Mist remarks as Sunny squeezes her eyes shut. “You could stand to learn a few more things from him, I think.”

She lets the magazine drop to her side and props herself up on her remaining arm to smile condescendingly at Sunshine.

“Let me know when you want to give up.”

[the-lone-zarbi-on-trenzalore]

What are the Doctor Who social medias counting down to?

Posting this now so I can take credit when I’m right. You’ve probably heard or noticed about the Doctor Who Instagram and Twitter posting one on-screen doctor every day in reverse order (Tennant, Whittaker, Martin, Capaldi, Smith, Tennant... again, Eccleston, etc). As of the time I am writing this they posted McCoy yesterday. I’ve seen a bunch of speculation around what this is counting down to -- is it a casting announcement? Is it a trailer? Is it a spin-off? Is it finally the Series 10 Soundtrack? -- I’ve cracked it. It’s so obvious.

It’s the backlog of episodes going live on Disney+

It’s just that. It’s the only thing that makes sense a month after the last trailer and 10 months before the next episode. It wouldn’t be a casting announcement for the 60th because those only happen either right after a leak to control the narrative or right before that actor needs to shoot in public, neither of which lend well to a 16-day countdown after shooting has finished. It won’t be a spinoff because any character about to get spun off would either be introduced or re-introduced in the main show first. Also, neither of those things would thematically connect to posting each on-screen Doctor. The fact that the vague hypeposting includes classic doctors too makes me suspect that the backlog will include not just the revival but also the classic episodes as well, including the 1996 TV movie cause the rights to that are owned by Fox... and guess who owns Fox now.

Will this include a backlog of spinoffs too? Torchwood, Sarah Jane, Class, Confidential, K9 and Company? Will this include animated reconstructions of lost episodes? It depends on whether they want to build up enough content to make up one of those tabs to put Dr Who next to Marvel and PIXAR. Personally if that happened I would vomit but if it is gonna happen we might find out next week.

If I’m right I’m gonna come back to this post and say I told you so.

[firespirited]

Watched a bad cam of barbie the movie and the gender essentialism that was. debunked. in. the. sixties. made my brain leak out of my ears.

but maaaaang this is the prettiest film set with the most gorgeous costumes I’ve seen in at least twenty years. All that colour, actual saturation T_T it’s magnificent.

Cut for major spoilers and thoughts (will collate this later into something less messy)

In a nutshell, very fun movie. Not very good as a *Barbie* movie unless you've only bought them since the body diversity of 2016 but formed your ideas about them in the early 90s. The fans will enjoy easter eggs but not anachronistic plots.

well. i may need to kidnap greta gerwig and explain solidarity along other lines than being handed the crappy gender and this might take a while since clearly this hasn’t crossed her mind or ever existed in her world. I may have to use Barbie and wheelchair Ken being politically aligned since neither fit into the dreamhouse as blunt props then move on to asian ken who’s had one or two more dolls than allan, one of which is an expensive hard to find samurai caricature. Then maybe we can talk about why there are no sanitation work barbies despite kids loving trash and toilets as concepts and what magically happens when cleaners and garbage collectors strike.

HOWEVER this isn’t a feminist movie and never was. To judge it more harshly than any other blockbuster isn’t really fair. ((That won't stop me of course because doing a queer or marxist reading of Rugrats in Paris can be entertaining.)) I loved the dances, I loved the sets, I loved the costumes and throwbacks. But Kens being all what about the menses after getting friendzoned and them being walking stereotypes was miserable and so unreal. 

Kids don’t project that onto their dolls who are busy being genderqueer adventurers in the wildest telenovela you’ve ever seen... creepy mommybloggers do that. 

I’ve talked before about Hallmark movies being made not for the demographic represented on screen but mothers of adults or teens who want their kids to find fulfilment in a life close to their parents, back “home”. Pixar movies that speak to the office politics of the parents who brought the kids to see the colourful funny film. This is more of the same and the massive disconnect comes from knowing that Barbie - and dolls in general - are only projections. Ms Gerwig sees something I don’t and never have seen except in the choices that Mattel has made as a company to try to expand and appease the consumer base (covered earlier, it wasn’t always gen pop like now but mass buyers for retail chains).

You don’t get personal issues from Barbie, you get them from society and other women and a world run by men making them feel inadequate. Barbie isn’t skinny or a slut or anything value/morality based until long after you’ve absorbed those concepts yourself, projected them on many other women then finally see Barbie wearing or doing something you could never be allowed.

-------------------

I moved house about once every three years as a kid, some of those changes were to radically different social (and literal) climates: going from evangelic rural USA to a east germany then back to working class UK gave me mental whiplash. I found myself age 8 dissociating to the point of having to be guided by the teacher in the changing rooms after sports at school unable to decide what was right or wrong about removing clothes then taking a shower with the other girls. I didn’t know how to reconcile the vastly different but strongly held beliefs about bodies. Age nine I’d move to a place where you don’t show bare legs, age 14 to a place where it made no sense to locals to not be in small clothes half the year. I was a mess.

But Barbie was never a symbol of anything except how much money your family were willing to spend on birthdays. I couldn’t understand what my parents saw in her that was in any way inappropriate, girl wears whatever her current occupation requires, her body designed to never be fully naked! It’s a toy - why do they make animals talk and give food a face? Toy logic is why. Ken, Barbie Clone, Pony, Ninja turtle, Snoopy, Teddy, Rock with eyes on it all occupy the same ungendered and also highly gendered, depoliticized and highly political IT ME and IT HERO and IT CUTE space.

-------------------------------

This wasn’t for the girls gays and theys but white liberal parents worried about a symbol that’s not even a symptom that barely registers compared to what’s printed on a cereal box: pretty skinny white lady, eating with a grin, looking so rested and happy, hers has fresh fruit and drizzled honey because she gets to have fancy breakfast not you, calories per portion, portion size that’s not a real portion that fits a cereal bowl if you actually weigh it. Bollocks staring at you every breakfast time. 1 of 300 messages your kid will take in that day. 

Rest assured dear parents that Barbie does not even factor, her profession doesn’t last more than an hour out of the box: drama and far more important issues must be attended to. Unlike a gun which can only be a gun, anything Barbie comes with or finds can be a weapon or a magical artefact.

------------------------------------

Nitpick 2: Allan was awesome and never got to beat up that odd guy Alan for stealing his name.

Side notes:

Nitpick number one Barbieland has no horses ???!!!!??? First thing sis did when she had her own pocket money to buy Barbies was get the horse. The horse no-one could ride of course. Slightly better scale than mylittlepony G1 Bow Tie.

Love Simu Liu's era of riffing on his buff like a ken doll image. Between this and The Other Two he's done a lot to deconstruct toxic masculinity (and bite the MCU hand that feeds him, how Boyega of him) . I know twitter has some beef with him (no idea what that's about) but as far as I can tell he's actively working on breaking stereotypes placed on him with each new role.

Really loved the dig about money not being speech in barbie supreme court. The details are impeccable when not in service of the odd ken redpilling plot (he just wanted purpose and horses) or the awful will ferell 'comedy'.

---------------------------------------

I’ll do a rewatch as soon as a better quality version lands and possibly combine it with Ghost in the shell - Innocence which does a lot of talking about dolls, gynoids, icons, idols and the image of self contrasted against Matoko who’s basically decided to be formless for a while.

—-----------------------

Initial conclusions :

Threading the tiny needle that is Barbie the doll as she is played with and collected by children and adults vs Barbie as she is perceived and made symbol of women's issues was never going to be easy. As a toy story, it works. It's beautifully designed has a decent message about women being told to be perfect and a weak one about men acting out when they don't have purpose and having to find their own value.

The flat feet were the first red flag because barbie had flat feet from the 80s onwards: all gymnast bods, beach bods and many fashionistas and made to moves. So it's pick and choose barbie eras depending on what suits the set up for this ken/barbie conflict. We're also throwing Life in the Dreamhouse completely out of the window. We're ignoring Ken being important to gay men and the gay men designing for Barbie. The queer eye is vital to Barbie's worldview and longevity. All of Barbieland Kens are straight and clueless. No Blaine no Ryan ok I can accept that, but no gay Kens is very hard to imagine. I liked the gender non conformity of Kens though, that was very much in line with modern Kens such as Dennis Bahl the green BMR.

As a Barbie story, things start to get complicated because Barbieland isn't a match to what's happened to the Barbie universe IRL. The body diversity in Barbieland and single names is post 2016 only. The aesthetics of the (play)sets are 80s-90s. The careers are partly 2016 +, partly 80s-90s except that Ken had plenty of careers pre 2016 (& as far as I can tell he's been a dogwalker, farmer and a vet since 2016) but it's a massive plot point that he has no career or purpose here. It's the parents choice to buy him as an accessory/comphet love interest or as his own character not a Barbie 'canon' rule.

So you set up a conflict based on the fact that Barbie sometimes came with a same occupation Ken as accessory but set in a post 2016 world where you *choose* if to have a Ken and never get one just to have the Barbie. We're going to ignore qll the times recently where you couldn't buy Barbie without her sisters.

Ken does exist without Barbie to collectors of male dolls. Some of which are little boys who are allowed Kens but not Barbies.

I'm glad for the pg13 rating because Ken's been designed carefully to counteract the 90s potato Ken stigma that made him so clearly the guy doll. Since the Blaine, Ken is just one of the crew of friends and a potential boyfriend, sculpted to look as friendly and unthreatening as possible. I really don't want kids who had a non segregated crew to start The Gender Wars unless that's something that's happening in school.

Emptying my head of all that Barbie lore was too difficult on first viewing. My views on ken are basically brunette potato ken is an afterthought but blonde ken since they got back together has been shaped by himbo, sometimes glam ken... with LitDH golden retriever ken being the main idea in my head. So Gosling's blond Ken starting out supportive himbo and quickly revealing 'nice guy' tendencies felt so wrong.

You know what? I want the edit where Ken's dickishness is cut out and Barbie's crisis takes the main stage. It felt rude to have her movie undercut by incel Ken and it'd be a much more focused story to have Barbie and Gloria vs the world and Ken realising he is kenough as a side plot.

[basedkikuenjoyer]

Edge of the Limelight: Okiku’s Saga

We’ve had some fun ruminating on the edges, but we’re at a good point in the main story to recap the fil rouge. Also hit 900 posts so neat! Need a good milestone. This all fell into place around a simple observation at the 3/4 mark of Wano. Yamato’s flashback was the trigger. I’d seen it enough times; you kept undercutting this whole “I wanna be your nakama” bit, you’re clearly building an organic bond with Momo, and it wasn’t exactly subtle you & Kiku are mirror opposites. What’s the opposite of Yamato’s arc? It hit me like a brick, time & theatre. An unassuming young woman out of time who went from Poster Girl to Samurai like it was nothing. I rushed back to re-read, most of the basic idea fell into place before Usopp slides into this tale.

Kiku’s story is told in an order that makes it almost impossible to fully get on a single pass because she’s such a proper guarded Wano lady who’s instinct is to downplay herself. You’re regressing into an old role that was not healthy for you, that time with Tsuru allowed you to grow into a confident young woman who can fend for herself. My 90s Shoujo-loving ass just felt stupid for needing that long. Kiku wasn’t actually a particular favorite until that fateful re-read. I liked her but she got lost in the noise. And that’s the point! You’re the real star, a little prodigy fate is finally handing a second chance, but accidents of birth won’t allow you to make the most of it in this country. The Lady and The Samurai are both masks. Underneath both the real personality leaks out. She’s an actress, a bit of a diva even. Even from that point, that re-read it clicked. If you keep your eye on the unassuming waitress, get her story is sometimes about the notes you don’t play, Kiku’s the keel holding it all together. 

Mind you, she’s not exactly a slouch on the surface read to begin with. None of this is harder than people who could pick out the clues she was trans early. She’s not the type to show her scars, but the “play” she’s only fated to be a small part of is an ensemble of people grappling with what she bore 20 years ago. Sort of an Everything, Everywhere, All at Once vibe. So many faces showing who she was, who she’s becoming, who she could have been, who she’s expected to be. Most just one accident of birth away. Yeah yeah...she didn’t feel that important. That’s the bit! She’s nothing but a footnote in this sweeping historical epic. But Luffy met her first and really, really liked her. She’s not in the limelight a whole lot, but makes good use of the time she’s there and is at least on stage more than anyone. The most consistent thread. Winnow it down to just her story and Wano still works, but goddamn when you actually look at just her story through the spectacle does it start to look like a familiar pattern. The tenth has a story that goes unspoken because at this point you shouldn’t need it spelled out. That’s why it makes sense to me. 

I still can’t shake how well a fussy big sister type with a military background suits a Quartermaster role. How well being introduced shoving a hand over Luffy’s mouth and getting the two most reckless doofs on the crew to actually take stock and pay attention, the jack-of-all-trades angle, being the baby sister of the group and taking on the emotional toll of dealing with the traitor all suit that. How well that pairs with Izo all those years ago trying in vain to talk down Ace. That was all there at 1024. Gotta take it on faith I guess, but I and the couple of friends I filled in the gaps with agreed on two things to look out for at that point. Something that “flips” Kiku & Yamato back in the conclusion, and a “how we got here” flashback building on Kiku’s deep well of moments we know you spent time with the Straw Hats we didn’t see. Not to mention a potential big one with Shanks. We saw the first part with Ryokugyu and was it even that subtle?  

If you’ve been around a while you know I’m just scratching the surface. Even then, I was ready to move on when the other shoe didn’t drop, but offered a rough outline for how Egghead could bend around and still make the other half happen. Beauty of the type of twist. We’ve stuck to that and it’s getting weird by this point. Enough I somehow have more confidence in the idea there’s at least value in entertaining this thread at 1084 than I did 1064. And that was after Law had boobies. We’ll have fun with Egghead in general tomorrow.

[adamwatchesmovies]

Save the Green Planet! (2003)

I’m not going to say that someone other than the director of Save the Green Planet! should re-edit the film… but if a power outage suddenly cuts the picture 10 minutes before the end, you’ll be much more satisfied than you would if you had seen the whole thing. It’s on the cusp of being great until the conclusion undoes so much of what came before.

Byeong-gu (Shin Ha-kyun) believes pharmaceutical executive Kang Man-shik (Baek Yoon-sik) is an alien. With the help of his girlfriend (Hwang Jeong-min), Byeong-gu kidnaps him. Trapped in an underground bunker by a madman, Kang is about to be subjected to all sorts of painful procedures unless he admits “the truth”.

Writer/director Jang Joon-hwan plays the audience like a violin. He lets hope leak in through a crack and then plugs it up the moment you become convinced Kang might escape. It's a nightmare. Kang might not be the nicest person but when you see what Byeong-gu has planned for him, all of your misgivings about the businessman evaporate. The thing is, Byeong-gu is at the level of crazy that fills you with uncertainty. Maybe he’s off his rocker enough that if Kang plays into his fantasies, he’ll manage to talk himself free - perhaps by using the man’s sickly mother as a resource. Failing this, maybe Su-ni - who’s nutty herself but isn’t the ringleader in this affair - can be convinced to help her captive before it’s too late. Finally, there’s the possibility of Kang simply escaping on his own. Whatever happens, it better be soon. One look at Byeong-gu’s litteral tin-foil hat and you know the upcoming eclipse will mean this thing will come to an end one way or another.

Adding to the intrigue are a pair of detectives investigating the kidnapping. Every minute that passes feels like a hammer dropped from the ceiling. It’s only a matter of time. Someone’s going to slip up. There are simply too many things that could go wrong in this loony operation for it not to go wrong. What’s it going to be? You don’t know. When you think you’ve got it figured out, the movie pulls the rug from under you and things go from bad… to worse. You feel like you’re in that underground dungeon too, trying to figure out what you could do, what you could say to escape. I mean to allow Kang to escape. If not for him, for the others potential victims. The movie’s proven that Lee’s search for extraterrestrials is a fool’s errand. He almost gets you at one point because he’s so convinced of his mission but when you hear what the “real” history of earth is… none of it makes sense.

Then, at the end of the movie, we get a twist. Not only are the aliens real, Kang was an alien the whole time. Their king, in fact. If this film had been played a bit differently, the message might’ve been that it isn’t enough for you to be right; you also have to know how to convince others of the truth. Instead, what are we supposed to think? That it’s ok to torture and murder any number of people… as long as it’s for the right reason? Nothing the movie does will make you sympathize for Byeong-gu. He’s evil. Same for his girlfriend. AT BEST, she's merely complicit. When they get taken out, you cheer. Oh, but you’re not supposed to. His failure means Kang can blows up the planet and kill BILLIONS. To add insult to injury, the film takes the time to make you understand that Byeong-gu is a person, that he didn’t start off crazy and was driven to madness by circumstances. We see him at his worst, but the film concludes with a montage of him at his best. He had parents who loved him, he loved his dog, and his girlfriend too. So what? All the people he murdered were people too. What about them?

Although Save the Green Planet! ends on a foul note, the rest is so compelling it'd be a shame to dismiss it. While watching, you’ll be gripped in its claws and loving it. The film is terrifying and intense. You’ll be drenched with sweat and won’t want to miss a minute as the characters carefully circle each other, trying to figure out what move to make next. A remake is reportedly in the works. Let's hope it rights the mistakes Save the Green Planet! makes. (Original Korean with English subtitles, January 22, 2021)