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temptress-writes · 1 year

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📺 Sugar

A/N: Welcome to The Tonight Show with Harry Styles. The year is 1964, and you are his assistant. He's a bit of a shit. So this is a fun one.

C.W: sexual content: kinda rough— choking, spanking, degradation, slapping, spitting, squirting.

18+ ONLY.

***

New York City, 1964.

"Red leather, yellow leather, red leather, yellow leather."

The bright lights heated him even from behind the curtain. A warmth that coasted alongside his adrenaline. He struggled to keep his body cool underneath his designer sweater, felt his feet tapping restlessly in his leather oxfords.

This was his favourite part.

The cheers, the introduction, the attention.

You ran the lint roller over his shoulders as he sipped steaming tea from a paper cup. You made sure the collar of his plaid shirt was straight as it peeked out from his red sweater.

Another sip of steaming tea, another tongue twister.

"She sells..." You coached.

He took in a deep breath, watching you as you made sure he appeared perfect, rearranging the groomed curls on his head. Your green dress stood brightly against the black of the stage, the white cuffs of it framing your wrists as you fussed over his hair.

"She sells seashells by the seashore."

"One minute till curtain!" The stage manager yelled as he breezed by. "How're you feeling, Mr. Styles?"

"Like a million bucks, Sal!"

"That's the spirit!" Sal chuckled, running towards the side of the stage, probably chasing after an intern who wasn't doing their job properly.

"Remember, you're meeting your parents for dinner after this." You reminded, ticking off the mental to-do list that was really his. It was clogging your mind but after all, it was your job.

"I haven't forgotten." He rolled his eyes. Yes, you were his assistant, but he found you controlling at times and he had little patience for women who tried to control him. He preferred to be the one in charge.

"But you'll still find a way to be late, anyway." You stepped back with a huff. He really did make your job a living hell.

"I'm taking a refreshment in my dressing room after the show."

You scrunched up your face in disgust. Refreshment. You hated that you knew it was code for a visit from a desperate groupie. You remember when he told you how he chose which girl he liked the best. You'd been watching the audience file in and he appeared behind you, chewing gum with a confident pop of his jaw.

"Let me scope it out."

"Why?"

"Like to see who's gonna join me for a post-show soirée. See those girls?" He pointed to a group of overdressed girls, all giggling and excited for the show to start. "Bingo."

"How do you know which one to pick?"

He shot you a look, clicking his tongue. "The tits, sugar. I always pick the girl with the biggest tits."

"Ugh." You rolled your eyes. "You're disgusting."

"I'm just messin'," He tilted his head. "I'm an ass man, too."

You shuddered at the recollection.

"Yes, Mr. Styles." Your voice was laced with a seething sarcasm that he raised a brow at.

He didn't seem to conceptualise that you talked that way because that's how he talked to you. He couldn't see past his blinding, misogynistic ego.

You were purely volleying it right back at him. In hindsight, it wasn't the smartest move because you really needed this job and he had a tendency to fire staff with a snap of his jeweled fingers. He'd made the past six months hard on you and he really made your blood boil.

Who knew becoming Harry Styles' assistant would be akin to babysitting a grumpy toddler?

The Tonight Show with Harry Styles.

Hilarious with guests, a major flirt, and entertaining — even when reading out news segments.

He was well-loved by everyone. For his fun fashion statements, for his guests, his charm, his whole fantasy world on his show. Worldwide, he was adored as the most entertaining and handsome talk show host.

But you knew what happened behind the scenes.

Poised and perfect on camera, but as soon as the director called cut, you had trouble convincing yourself it wasn't a joke. People of the television world had a different sort of ego and you struggled to breathe among it all. Harry hated mingling with guests before and after the show more than he had to, he hated when the crew bothered him, he hated being approached by fans for autographs because he had a headache — or whatever excuse he was offering that day.

Don't get it twisted — he loved the attention he got from being so famous. You were surprised his head wasn't bigger. The one thing he loved most about being so popular was the fact that he could have anyone on his knees for him, be between their legs, and have them at their disposal. And he treated them like that was their only use.

The charming and cheerful Harry Styles.

Purely a falsity of a man.

The crew fled from the stage as the band started playing the introduction theme music and you swept the cup from his hand. You replaced it with two certs breath mints that he chewed on routinely.

"Wish me good luck." He demanded as you gave him a once over.

You beamed. "Break a leg."

"Thanks, sugar."

"No, like trip and fall."

His smile dropped into an unamused glare. "Oh, bite me."

The music ensued, getting louder with an abundant cheer from the live crowd, the curtain preparing to lift to reveal him. You rushed off stage, your Mary Janes clicking on the floor before nodding to Sal who gave you two thumbs up.

"Filmed before a live studio audience..."

"...All the way from Holmes Chapel, Cheshire..."

Harry took a deep breath, already bathing in the adoration he garnered from simply existing.

"...Give it up for your host, the one, the only..."

You rolled your eyes as he mouthed along with the words as they were spoken.

"...Mr. Harry Styles!"

The curtain parted and he stepped forward, his hands waving to the crowd before clasping them together as he took a small bow. He blew kisses, thanking them for coming and welcoming them. He egged on the drummer of the band while the crowd cheered for him.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!"

More cheers that he absolutely cherished and bathed in, letting them fuel his ego.

"We've got a great show for you tonight, we have special guests The Everly Brothers joining us!"

Your job while Harry was doing his magic spiel on stage was to check in with him during commercial breaks, smooth his hair, offer him mints, refill his water. Also to make sure everything was perfect for him when he wrapped up. He was extremely demanding, and while you were warned of that when you first took the job, you were still so surprised just how needy he was.

He liked ham and tomato sandwiches exactly fifteen minutes before he was put into his hair and makeup chair. He liked a cup of hot tea right before air time, alongside a few tongue twisters. He went through packets of Certs breath mints faster than you thought humanly possible. He also wanted a cup of black coffee waiting for him directly after he got off stage.

He didn't like to talk to anyone on his way to his dressing room unless it was Sal congratulating him and inflaming his already huge ego. Or security telling him about a waiting groupie in his dressing room. Or you, running over his schedule or helping him memorise his script. Well, he didn't like talking to you. He more or less answered in grunts or irritated comments.

As Harry settled in for his show post the joke segment, you ran around backstage. Ordering his coffee and one for yourself because you couldn't keep up with his demands without your own shot of caffeine. You were due within minutes to refresh him during the breed.

It really was an exciting job, aside from being a woman in a man's world. You were treated as such but you were lucky enough to be given the job in the first place. At first, you were nervous around Harry. It took him a second to warm up to you.

The first time you met was when he found you in his dressing room before a show, bent over the vanity as you watered his flowers. He thought you were there for a completely different reason and had quickly started to unbuckle his belt.

"Alright, let's make this quick."

You then spotted him in the mirror and turned with a gasp. "What are you-"

And before it could have got any more awkward, before Harry could even fully unbuckle his belt, Sal stormed in with a shocked laugh.

"Oh!" His amused gaze flickered between the two of you. "Harry, I see you've met your new assistant."

"I don't need an assistant, Sal. We've been through this. Why do you think I got rid of the last one?"

"Well, of course, you do! She's just here to help you perform at your best, Styles. Try not to scare this one off."

And while he'd probably never admit it to you, you actually were very helpful to have around. Once you'd stopped being so awkward and nervous and jittery around him, you found a dynamic that worked. One where he could be a condescending male and you could be just as snappy right back to him.

Past assistants had stuck to him like a bad smell and only irritated him. You did what was expected of you. Nothing more, nothing less. You kept your little purse stocked with certs breath mints, lint rollers and kept that fact that he fucked fans in his dressing rooms after and sometimes before shows quiet.

But after all, everyone was well aware. They even congratulated him on his sexual success. Nothing grossed you out more.

Aside from Harry being a mildly misogynistic, cocky, well-dressed thorn in your side, you loved your job. You met exciting guests whom you only dreamed of meeting. Stars you had posters of in your apartment, musicians whose vinyls you span on your turntable.

In your first week on the job, you met Santo and Johnny. They'd just finished a performance of Sugar Song and they flirted with you until you were a blushing mess.

Harry had watched the interaction, grumbling about professionalism and waiting for them to leave so he could torment you about it.

"Got the hots do ya, little sugar?"

"Kiss off, Styles."

That was the most colourful thing you'd ever said to him. The shock of it raised his brows and sent a singeing pang of arousal directly to his crotch.

There was a part of Harry that wanted to hate you. Because you were a woman bossing him around and because you got on his nerves. But the more rational part of him knew he could never hate you. You were too helpful and he'd be lying if he said you weren't one of the prettiest girls he'd ever seen. And he'd seen a lot of girls.

But he knew you were disgusted by his habits, how he slept with so many people. In his own sick way, he used it to his advantage, to keep you at arm's length. That and endless comments he knew would rile you up. And boy, did he rile you up. He'd finessed the art of it.

The show ran smoothly tonight, but by no means were you any less busy. You raced around with your clipboard tucked under your arm and two cups of coffee in either hand. You sipped on yours, grateful for the kick it gave. Harry was saying his goodnight to the crowd, his cup steaming in your left hand as you rushed to meet him.

"Thank you for spending the night with me, New York!"

His classic closing catchphrase. Cheeky and risky, but it was him and he got away with everything.

Thunderous applause overpowered the sound of your heels clicking as you turned a corner, beelining towards the stage exit. You were late. He'd be off stage by now, demanding things and barking orders like the diva he was.

As if you weren't going to hear an earful from him as it was, an intern bumped into you. The crash caused your two cups of coffee to spill all down the front of your dress. You barely noticed the burn.

"Seriously?" You seethed, holding your now empty cups out in exasperation.

"I-I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching-"

"You don't say."

You could hear Harry asking where you were and you groaned, absolutely vexed. You turned in the exact opposite direction of him and back to grab more coffee. You knew he'd especially need it tonight if he was meeting with his parents.

"What happened to you?" Sal guffawed and you rolled your eyes.

"If you see Harry, tell him that his coffee is coming."

"Bit hard getting it to him when you're wearing it."

"Not funny."

A few minutes later, you held a single coffee cup. Steaming, black. You wrapped both your hands around it, holding it steady and keeping far away from anyone who could bump you. Your dress had seen better days and the stain was obvious and uncomfortably wet.

You found your way back to his dressing room, where he'd no doubt holed himself up in to freshen up. You knocked, hoping he was alone and waiting for you before continuing on with his post-show... rituals.

"Come in!" You heard from the other side and you slipped inside quickly.

"So sorry, Mr. Styles, I had an accid- oh, my god!"

You took in the scene before you. Harry. With a girl on his knees in front of him. His jeweled fingers clenching a fistful of the girl's hair as she sucked him off. His brows were turned down in the middle but his eyes... his eyes were on you. And he was enjoying it. Enjoying the girl, and enjoying you watching.

"Alright, sugar?"

"I-" You didn't know what to say, and the girl didn't stop. You didn't know if that was her doing or if Harry was holding her down. You turned, and idiotically turned back around, taking the few steps towards him, and handed him his cup of coffee. You didn't meet his eyes, like a bumbling idiot.

You left the room, but not before hearing Harry take a hefty sip of his coffee and letting out a soft moan, "Oh, that's so good."

Vexed by his antics, and the fact that he made it his mission to throw you off like that, you signed out and went home. It was as vulnerable as you'd ever seen him and you felt an odd sense of jealously wash over you. Maybe you were jealous of past you, because she hadn't witnessed it. Or maybe there was a bit of jealousy there because you wanted to be the one on your knees for him.

As delightful as the thought was for a margin of a second, you felt ill knowing you'd be another Harry Styles groupie. And it would make your job more difficult which you didn't think was even possible.

But you couldn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the night. His blissful expression, the way he directed it at you as opposed to the mouth wrapped around him. He had told you to enter his dressing room so that you could see it.

The next night, you planned on fully avoiding him and pretending the whole thing never happened. Which was hard considering, you know, you were to follow him around and listen to his demands. And especially hard because you just wished he'd command you onto your knees already.

Sure, you found him extremely attractive — everyone did. You may have even had a little crush when you first met him. But then you got to know him, and his habits and his ways. Last night grossed you out just as much as it turned you on. You felt so thrown off and now you weren't sure how to act around him.

You arrived at the studio not too long before showtime, Harry's cup of tea in hand. You were a little bit late today but you figured he could survive fifteen minutes without you. He was in hair and wardrobe, getting his curls perfected and his forehead powered.

He sat in the chair with his legs spread, a pair of black dress pants and a white singlet, his inked arms on display. You focused on staying professional and met his eyes for a brief moment as you greeted him and handed him his cup of tea. No milk, and don't be shy with the honey, he'd told you when you first started.

His eyes scanned your attire, a pink dress with long sleeves but a shorter hem than usual, he noticed. He didn't hate having to look at your legs, your plump thighs, and the intrigue of what was between them ran rampant in his thoughts.

You had a soft yellow ribbon in your hair, keeping it swept away from your face in a high ponytail. He clenched his jaw, wishing it was his hand fisting your hair. He'd tie your hands up with the ribbon so you'd have to behave for him.

"Thanks. Dig pink on ya." He took a sip, his eyes full with mischief as he watched you over the rim of his cup. "Enjoy the show last night?"

You knew he was referring to you seeing him get blown by some random groupie so you ignored him, looking at your clipboard. "So Sal wants to see you in five, and we're reconfiguring some set pieces before airtime. So be on stage straight after you've seen him, okay?"

The hairstylist finished up, and you were left alone with him in the room. You were a lot stiffer tonight, more reserved than usual and he picked up on it right away. You raised a brow, wondering if he'd heard a single word you said.

He smirked. "Why did you come in last night? You know I have post-show celebrations in my dressing room."

"I was bringing you coffee! You told me to come in!" This man was exasperating. He knew that he'd asked you for coffee and told you to enter his dressing room after you'd knocked. He wanted you to see and now he was just winding you up.

He raised a brow. "Did I?"

"Five minutes." You reaffirmed. You tried to hide the way that his tone crept down your spine in slow, hot trickles.

He sat up in the chair, his hand reaching to cup the back of your lower thigh. You stopped breathing at the sudden touch and he pulled you towards him. His gaze was searing on yours, his eyes wondering and daring.

"You wanted to stay, didn't you? Watch me get my dick sucked while I watched you."

"No, I didn't." You whispered, letting him pull you forward until you were standing between his spread legs.

"No?"

"No." Even you weren't convinced by your answer.

"Hmm... you wanted to be the one on your knees for me. Is that it?"

You took a deep, shaky breath. His question fired something off in your brain. A realisation perhaps. You did want to be on your knees for him, being the reason for his pleasure, be at his command, make him feel good, make him fucking fall apart because of you.

"So pretty in this tiny fuckin' dress." He cooed. His hand came up, cupping your cheek. Your eyeshadow was a pretty soft blue and he adored it. His fingers trailed down, tracing your lower lip. "You'd look so perfect with my cock in your mouth."

You couldn't even suppress the whimper that ensued. Did you thank him? Slap him? Get on your knees and prove his point?

He didn't seem fazed by the fact that you weren't saying much. You were responding to him in other ways. Leaning right into him with your eyes lulled, your hands resting on his broad shoulders. Your chest heaving beneath that fucking pink dress. You were driving him crazy with how badly he wanted you.

The night before had been his own sick little test. Either, you'd be game, or you'd pull away from him completely. Regardless, he'd know where you stood and accept all that accompanied him. He knew how fucked up it was but you really seemed to enjoy the game.

His other hand squeezed the back of your thigh, inching higher. "What colour are your panties?"

You gasped at the question, so turned on by him and how bold he was. It used to scare you, but now being on the receiving end was a completely different ballpark.

"Blue." You breathed out.

"What shade of blue?" He pressed on. "Like your eyeshadow?"

You twisted your lips in thought. "Do you want to see?"

Harry released a shocked laugh, but his mind was fucking reeling. Did you really just ask if he wanted to see your panties?

"A peek couldn't hurt."

He gripped your hips and lifted you up onto the vanity behind you. You were shocked that he could lift you so effortlessly and smoothly. You crossed your legs, more to tease him than anything else. Your expression was sultry, and he felt lightheaded at the sight of you. Slowly, you unfolded your legs but didn't open them.

"Don't be shy, sugar. Show me and I'll make it up to you."

You let out a slow exhale, mustering up all of your courage. You were shaking, but it wasn't nerves. He had you so worked up and he had barely done anything. He'd riled you up and talked to you, and you were already fucking saturated.

Your legs parted, feet resting on either side of his thighs on the chair. Harry's eyes stayed on yours, his hands reaching to slide up your thighs, pushing the hem of your pink press up so he could get a good view of you, finally looking down.

And what a fucking view it was. Your thighs were soft, and he let his hands squeeze at them. Sky blue lace covered the area he'd been dreaming about for six months. He let out a soft groan and let his fingertip brush over the skin where your abdomen met the panties.

"Lace? Did you wear these for me?"

"I had you in mind."

"Naughty girl." He smirked, shuffling forward. His thumb brushed over your clothed clit and you let out a whimper, biting your lip to quell anything louder than might to escape. "Can I taste you? Please? Been wantin' to for months."

You nodded, your mouth dry. You'd let this man do anything to you, and hearing him tell you he'd been wanting this for months left you in a frenzy.

"Words, sugar. Let's hear 'em."

"Please," You whispered. "taste me."

"Good girl, that's it." He pulled your panties to the side, desperate to see you and taste you. You were glistening, so wet and plump for him. He sighed, running his thumb along your clit before venturing between your folds to feel how wet you were. Your thighs jolted as he slipped his thumb to collect your excitement and spread it up to your clit.

"Why are you so wet, hm?" He wondered aloud, his eyes meeting yours again.

"Because of you, Harry."

"Me?" Cocky little shit.

"Mm."

"Are you always this wet for me, sugar?"

You hesitated, not sure if you wanted to give him this. He would never forget it, probably remind you that he knew every day. Probably slip his hand up your dress just to appease his own curiosity.

"Only when you're nice to me."

"But you like me mean, don't you?"

"You're an asshole."

"Gets you wet, though."

Abruptly, as if impatient, he lowered his head and attached his mouth to your clit. The scorching heat of it was intense, and you grabbed a fistful of his freshly tamed curls to hold him to you.

His tongue ran over your entirety. From your entrance right back up to your clit, tasting you fully as his mouth closed around the sensitive bundle of nerves. You threw your head back, rolling your cunt towards his face as he softly ate you with a passion that had you shaking.

Before anything more could occur, Sal knocked on the door, demanding that Harry meet with him. He knew better than to enter any room that was hidden behind a closed door when it came to Harry. But if he'd known it was you behind that door with him, that would be another issue entirely.

You shot up, pushing him out of the way and righting your dress. You were tingling and you could still feel his tongue between your legs. His eyes were dark as he watched you from his seat, amused by your fumbling.

"Go before Sal comes back." You were flustered, your body felt electric and all he'd given you was his mouth for what — ten seconds?

He was too relaxed, and it only pissed you off further. He stood, sauntering towards you to press you against the vanity. His hand cupped your jaw, his rings kissing your skin.

"Funny that you're making demands when I'm the boss."

You breathed heavily, unsure of how to reply so you just held eye contact with him. Your lips parted as his head tilted, inching closer. His hand loosened, melting to your cheek so he could rub it with his thumb.

"Who's in charge, hm?"

"You are."

"That's right." He crooned, his lips brushing yours. "And who's gonna give you his cock later?"

The air was stripped from your lungs, the depth behind his question clear. Would you submit to him? Venture into this connection you had with him? You got on each other's nerves but fuck if there wasn't the most incredible sexual tension between you.

"You are, Harry."

He hummed, gripping your hand and bringing it down to cup his cock. He was hard, and pulsed in your hand when you gave him a squeeze. You just about crumbled when he moaned, his eyes lulling as you did it again. Harder.

"There's my good girl."

Sal knocked again, clearly impatient tonight. Harry smirked and could feel his lips curl against yours before he pulled away. He left the room with a confident strut while you were left shaking. You took a second to catch your breath, willing the arousal between your legs to simmer down before heading back out towards the stage.

You grabbed your purse and kept busy doing your job while Harry caught up with Sal. He was doted over, like always, and Sal told him how his viewings were skyrocketing. After he'd finished up his tasks on stage, he was whisked back to wardrobe so he could be styled.

Because Harry was busy chatting with tonight's guest and getting ready, all you had to do was wait for him to come to you. You peeked through the curtains at the set. The audience was being brought in and you were watching the seats fill from the side of the stage.

A piercing whistle sounded out from behind you and you twirled on the spot. He looked phenomenal. His suit was a sky blue, not too dissimilar to the shade of your panties. His shirt was a crisp white, his chain peeking through where it was unbuttoned, sat between his pecs and the light dusting of hair.

His eyes looked greener when he was dressed in blue, his lips more raspberry. He approached you and your eyes flew down to his shiny black oxfords.

"Whaddya think huh?" He spun on his heels, showing off. "Matchin'."

"Blue suits you."

"Suits you, too." Harry winked, standing close to you before nodding towards the audience. "How's it looking out there?"

Was he... trying to make casual conversation? After his face was between your thighs and all the talk that proceeded it? "Full house, like always. Did you... was that on purpose?"

"What?"

"The blue suit."

"Why else would I ask what colour your panties were, hm?"

"Because you're nosy."

"You know... every time you insult me, I get hard."

"Good thing I have plenty of them, then."

"Come on," He pressed you tight against the wall. "Gimme another one."

"Prick."

He chuckled, amused by how freely you were cursing. "That all you got?"

"You're the cockiest son a bitch I've ever met." You breathed out. His hands pressed to the wall on either side of your head, caging you in.

"Alright." He was crowding your space, the spicy-sweet vanilla of his cologne clouding your senses. He checked to see if anyone was around before clicking his tongue. "Take your panties off."

"What?" You were well aware that any crew member could walk by, and you weren't about to be caught slipping your panties down your legs.

"You heard me. Just lemme hold onto 'em until the show's over."

"Are you bent? I'm not giving you my panties. I need them and someone could walk by at any moment."

"Mellow out, no one's gonna see."

You deliberated in your head, genuinely considering it. His head tilted to the side, gauging your thoughts. This was so... exhilarating. Exciting. You were so out of it for him, and glad that you finally both agreed on something. You were both attracted to each other physically and that was about it.

Fuck it. Your hands reached beneath your dress, and Harry took a step back to give you room, keeping a lookout. You stepped out of those pretty little panties and held them out to him on your index finger. He snatched them up, eyeing how delicate they looked in his hand.

"Far out." He laughed, in shock that you actually did it.

You were a bundle of surprises tonight. He was throwing stuff at you that was pretty out there and you were throwing it right back. Sweet little sugar had a little more spice than he had anticipated.

"Cheers, sugar." He twirled them around on his finger and you slapped his shoulder.

"Don't just wave them around!" You hissed, looking around to make sure no one had seen the whole interaction.

Harry shoved them in his pants pocket and you smoothed out the bump they left, always a perfectionist. The guest of the night turned the corner and almost bumped into the two of you. You jumped apart, letting Harry chat to the guest on his own. He rarely enjoyed it and you looked back to see the subtle hints of irritation on his face. You knew he'd flash that charming smile and those adorable dimples as soon as the cameras came on.

With only a few minutes until the show was due to start, you bumbled around and made sure everything was perfect for him. You were very aware of the fact that you didn't have your panties on, and with your dress being shorter than usual, you had to be careful.

Sal breezed past you, beelining towards Harry and the guest with a huge grin. He greeted them loudly and you did your part by waiting to the side for further instruction. The guest was led to their spot for showtime, one of the stage managers with them to keep them entertained and to give their cues. Harry shook Sal's hand, hearing Sal's usual encouraging words before making his way towards you.

"Feeling okay?" You checked in, handing him a couple of Certs breath mints. You walked side by side towards center stage, and he wasn't shy about his stare on you. It felt different — the air around you. Usually filled with annoyance, was something else. Hotter, dreamier, sensual.

"Snazzy." He nodded, chucking the mints into his mouth. "Little foreplay always gets me goin'."

You huffed out a breath at his response, resisting the urge to retort something cheeky as the stagehand came to run through the show one more time. You righted his outfit, his eyes not leaving you as you made sure he looked smooth and perfect.

As the stagehand left, you grabbed your round brush from your purse and went over his curls. You began adding a little volume while he hummed and oohed and aahed to exercise and prepare his voice.

"You know New York..." You guided.

"You know New York, you need New York, you know you need unique New York."

"Again."

He sighed, closing his eyes so he could focus. "You know New York, you need New York, you know you need unique New York."

"Lesser leather..." You hinted at another tongue twister. You ran the lint roller across the lapels of his suit jacket and over his shoulders, catching his eyes and not missing the glint in them. "...never weathered..."

"It's funny," He smirked. "you're a tongue twister master right now, but you won't be able to say your own name by the time I'm done with you later."

"Oh my-"

"Yeah, I'm gonna fuckin' ruin you."

"One minute till curtain, everyone!" Sal's voice boomed. "Look alive, look alive!"

The crowd was roaring with applause as the show began, but all you could hear was your pulse in your ears as your heart thudded in your chest. Harry, who usually thrived off of the cheers, was only focused on you. On your sweet voice asking if he wanted to see your panties, on your feisty insults.

"Filmed before a live studio audience..."

You called him a cocky son of a bitch and all he could think about was bending you over his knee and seeing how much shit you talked while his hand was marking your ass with its imprint.

Everyone fled the stage, but you were stood completely still in front of him. Frozen.

"Harry..."

His lips brushed yours again and your ears started ringing.

"...All the way from Holmes Chapel, Cheshire..."

"Look at you," He crooned. "Runnin' round with no panties with that pretty ribbon in your hair. Dirty little thing, aren't you, sugar?"

You could feel how slick you were between your thighs and your eyes fluttered as his hand ventured beneath your skirt from behind, cupping your ass cheek with a strong hand before venturing further. His fingertips found your cunt and you almost collapsed against him.

He hummed lowly, rumbling in his chest. He pulled his hand away, very aware that the curtain was close to pulling up. He held his index and middle fingers in front of you, glistening with your arousal, and ran them along your lower lip.

You didn't even hesitate to suck his fingers into your mouth, not losing eye contact. Harry's brows turned down, his mouth dropping as he drawled out a slow fuuuck. And then he kissed you. It was messy and wet and quick. His lips were so soft against your own before he sucked deftly on your tongue, tasting you and your cunt at the same time.

"...Give it up for your host, the one, the only..."

"Fuck, can we cancel the show?" He growled, holding you to him with a grip on the nape of your neck.

"N-No. I have to go."

"...Mr. Harry Styles!"

You fled from the stage, walking backwards, not wanting to take your eyes off him. His expression was one of longing, his eyes not leaving you either. The curtain lifted, igniting him in the warmth of the stage lighting and the eruption of cheers.

He turned and faced the crowd, waving and blowing kisses. His smile was dazzling, and his blue suit was celestial under the bright glow. He was wrapped in success and adoration. You could see it radiating off him as he found centre stage and bowed.

"Good evening, New York!" He waited for applaud to finish. "How are we?"

You rounded the backstage area, checking in with crew and chatting to the guest.

"Can I just say..." Harry continued, clasping his hands together. "you look ravishing tonight, New York." More praise from the audience. "It's true, you do."

You rolled your eyes at the excited yells and cheers from the crowd. You watched him in a totally new light tonight. He was on a level that no one could reach. He was born to be on stage, to entertain.

He introduced the guest and brought them onstage, talking about their upcoming music and chatting them up. During the commercial breaks you checked in with the guest, and made sure Harry's appearance was on point.

His eyes were on you the whole time, and you could see him fighting the urge to make some kind of questionable comment. His eyes veered south and stayed on where the hem of your dress brushed your thighs.

"Need anything else?" You asked him politely, aware of the audiences stare on your back.

"I won't need coffee tonight." He educated softly and you nodded.

"We're back in fifteen seconds." The cameraman alerted and you gathered your things and went to leave. The guest was busy fixing their hair with the stylist. Harry's hand on your wrist stopped you, pulling you back.

"Actually, there is one more thing." He back peddled, and you raised an expectant brow, leaning in close to hear him. "Stay right over there, okay? Wanna be able to see you."

He pointed to a spot off stage, where only guests and select members of crew like Sal or the director were allowed to stand during air time. And he wanted you there. So he could look over and see you and know you were watching.

"I- Yeah, okay."

You rushed off stage, standing exactly where he told you to. He watched you right until the advertisement break ended.

"And we're back in three... two... one..."

His eyes switched back to the camera, his expression slipping into the charm that came so naturally to him once he was live on air.

He was a star. Delightful and eccentric and unapologetic.

He exchanged more jokes with the guest, who as an up and coming musician, was gearing up for their performance. You stayed to watch the show exactly where Harry wanted you, and you were pleased that you didn't get any slack from Sal. You rarely got to actually enjoy the show like this, and in a way, it felt like Harry had done you a favour.

His eyes often flicked to you after he'd told a joke or said something cheeky. Like he was directed it at you, or maybe he was checking to see if you found him as funny as the crowd did. When you didn't laugh as hard as he thought the joke deserved, he'd try extra hard to get you to laugh at the following one.

It was odd that he was trying to seek validation from you when he had millions at his feet.

As the show wrapped up, you couldn't have applauded him louder. You were proud, you felt giddy and bubbly inside. He was born for this, there was no denying it.

And then there was the realisation of what was to come once the show had finished. You became nervous. And insanely wet. The anticipation rattled yet excited you and you weren't sure what to make of it.

You rounded towards his exit, a crowd of crew and groupies waiting for him. He came to you first, as you were closest. He shot polite smiles to everyone but his attention was on you.

"How'd I do?"

"Phenomenal."

"Did you like my jokes?"

You side-eyed a few people waiting for a shred of his attention and felt the need to rush this interaction between you along. You didn't want to raise suspicions and you also didn't want to take away any attention he could be giving to these people who were clearly waiting for him.

"My tummy laughs from hurting so much." You whispered. His grin was contagious, dimples and his bunny teeth on full display. His eyes were warm as he stared down at you.

"Really?"

"Mhm."

A throat cleared behind you and Harry looked up to shoot them a reassuring wink and then looked back at you. "Wait for me in my dressing room."

It was an order, even with the softness in his tone. You licked your lips, not missing when his eyes caught it. You backed away, slowly pulling your ribbon out of your hair. His jaw clenched as your hair fell free.

"Yes, Mr. Styles. Right away."

His dressing room felt alien to you as you slipped inside, a familiar place with such a different atmosphere now. How quickly the dynamic had changed between you was dizzying. You always knew you were attracted to him, but you never thought you'd act on it.

And you certainly never thought he'd have his mouth on your cunt minutes before a show.

How long were you meant to wait? You checked your appearance in the mirror, your cheeks flushed with excitement. Your dress was pristine, as was your makeup and you wondered how long that would last.

You were riffling through Harry's pile of books when he came in. Your spine straightened, every nerve tingling. He closed the door behind him, leaning back against it.

His gaze was one that had you clenching your thighs together. An intimidating hunger, a deep lust. His eyes were dark, void of the bright glint they usually offered. He didn't say anything and that only made the tension thicker.

And then he locked the door with a click.

He took one single step towards you and you inhaled a sharp breath at the slow, torturous pace of it. Like he was taunting and teasing you. He shoved one hand in his pocket, the other reaching up. He gripped his lower lip between his thumb and index finger, his eyes finding your feet in your Mary Janes and trailing up your legs.

He was slow with that as well as if to keep you on your toes. He had always been so rushed and spontaneous with a lot of what he did. But this.... this he'd been thinking about for a long time. He'd had months to plan this through.

Plan how he was going to play with you, make you beg for him, make you feel good.

He really enjoyed the secrecy of it. And all that would come after. He liked the idea of meeting your eyes at work, both of you exchanging knowing looks because you both knew what it took to pleasure each other.

Fuck. His sex life wasn't complicated. He fucked fans because the likelihood of seeing them ever again was slim. But you were close to home, dangerously so. He saw you all the time. And somehow that just made him want you even more.

He produced your panties from his pocket and came to stand in front of you.

"Now," He began, lowering his head to meet your eyes. "are you going to need help keeping quiet?"

He fucking knew he'd have you screaming for him. He was just being precautious, knowing that on the other side of the door, the studio was littered with crew members.

You shook your head. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't think you're that good."

He rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek, huffing out a humourless laugh before pocketing your panties again. You were so snappy and cheeky with him and he'd be lying if he said it didn't make his dick so fucking hard in his pants. You were winding him up. Trying to poke at him and provoke him. Well, it was fucking working.

"Oh, you don't think so?"

"I think that's why your ego's as big as it is. Because you can't fuck."

He did what he wanted to do earlier that day; he grabbed your hair in his fist. You gasped through a surprised smile, and he brought you close until you were pressed against him.

"What did I tell you?" His voice was low, thick with arousal. You'd never heard his voice that deep and you felt it between your legs. "Hm?"

"That you won't need coffee tonight?"

He gripped your hair harder and his cock throbbed when you smiled.

"I told you," His eyes were burning. "that I'm going to ruin you."

The way he pronounced every word was electrifying. As if he was really trying to get his message across. How was this the same man that had asked if you laughed at his jokes after his show?

You flicked your tongue against his lower lip. "Do your worst."

His kiss was far harsher this time. Still just as messy, and you figured that was just how he liked it. He wasn't shy about it. He used his teeth, nibbling on your lower lip, biting on your tongue. He used his free hand to fist your dress at the small of your back.

You were pressed tight against him and fuck, he was so hard for you. Even through his pants, you were impressed with his size. You wanted to feel more, experience him fully. You didn't have all the time in the world, locked away in his dressing room. You were both painfully aware.

He pushed you back, landing you in the chair next to the vanity. He stripped off his suit jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. You watched as he pushed your dress out of the way, clearly annoyed that the fabric was disrupting him from his goal. Your center was still so wet for him and he couldn't even suppress the low grown at the sight.

"Pretty little pussy," He gripped your inner thighs, holding them apart. "still so fucking drenched for me. You enjoyed watching me onstage tonight, didn't you? Hearing everyone fawn over me but you know you're the one I want."

"I want you, too. So bad, please fuck me." You whined, your hips rocking up restlessly.

"I wanna have a play first."

"Fuck, please just-"

He spat directly between your legs, coating your pussy in his spit. His eyes flickered up to the clock on the wall before he attached his mouth to you with a deep moan. He licked along your entrance and then right up to the sensitive bundle of nerves, fully tasting you again.

He dipped his tongue inside you, fucking you with it before pulling away with a pop and sucking your clit back into his mouth. He trapped it between his teeth and flicked and twirled delicious patterns against it that had your muscles clenching.

He ate you as if he enjoyed it more than you did. He targeted your clit perfectly, able to read your body and its responses so well.

He held eye contact while had his mouth on your cunt, burying his face against you like he couldn't get close enough. Your legs shook on either side of his head, and he kept them spread with his wide hands. You could feel how cold his rings were against your skin.

Your hands reached down, tangling themselves into his curls. You held him against you, his mouth so scorching on you that you felt lightheaded with the tingling heat.

He pulled away momentarily, slipping his index and middle finger in his mouth, all the way until he drew back so teeth were peeling off his rings. He grabbed your hand, taking two of your fingers one by one and replacing the rings on them. They were huge on you but you admired how his jewelry looked on you, the ones he wore while he was on air. Glistening and extravagant.

Now he'd removed them so he could feel you properly.

Deciding that you were wet enough, he ran the pads of his fingers along your entrance. They veered up, circling your clit slowly before heading south again. You cried out softly as his fingers slipped inside you. It was an exquisite sensation and you stared down at him in wonder, mouth agape as you moaned out.

He curled them up, your spine melting as they pressed against a spot inside of you that had before now never been discovered. It was a blinding pressure, tight and full and so fucking good.

Harry smirked at the apparent shock on your face before he moved his fingers, curling them against your g-spot. As he found a rhythm, he brought his mouth back to your clit.

You arched your back, gasping for air as he worked you. He pumped his fingers hard, bringing you higher and higher to an elevation you'd never known. His mouth left your clit and before you could complain at the loss, he was spitting on it once more before giving it a mild slap with his free hand.

You screamed out, not expecting the harshness to feel that enticing. You were being far too loud for him to continue this comfortably. He didn't want anyone to interrupt and moreover, he didn't want you to get in trouble. He wanted to make you come over and over without a care in the world.

The same hand that slapped you retrieved your panties from his pocket before he shoved the lace into your mouth.

If you weren't so blissed out, you may have even be shocked by it. But at that moment, it was so hot and dirty. You trusted him to know best and look after you.

His fingers pulsed against your g-spot and you felt an intensity building in your abdomen and you rolled your hips towards his face. His mouth was relentless on your clit, desperate to get you zoned out with pleasure.

Your walls clenched and ballooned around his fingers and he pulled away, his eyes on you. They were full of lust and hunger, piercing right through you.

"Eyes on me sugar, don't look away." He wanted to watch you. To stare into your eyes, to see your orgasm shatter you.

He pumped his fingers, his pace blinding. He knew exactly what he was doing, knew exactly what to do to get you there. He grunted with the exertion, the tendons in his arm flexing and bulging with how hard he worked you.

And then he smirked, almost pleased with himself. "Have you ever squirted before?"

With your mouth full of lace, you weren't able to verbally answer. You shook your head and he thought the confused frown on your face was fucking adorable.

Before you could even think about what he was asking, the most euphoric explosion of bliss rocked through you. You cried out into the lace, your entire body shaking as you came harder than you ever had before. It was fucking annihilating. You did as you were told, your eyes not leaving his. It was hard, of course. You wanted to shut your eyes and bask in the hot sensation that was taking over every nerve in your body.

But he wanted to watch you. And he wanted you to see the burst of fluid that erupted from your cunt, past his fingers. "Thaaat's it. Good fucking girl, come all over my fingers. Just like that."

You writhed in the chair, grateful for his grip on you. You didn't stop shaking, tremors of pleasure rocking you. He helped you as you came down, your chest heaving and your body trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. You didn't think it was possible for you to come that way, and you could feel yourself becoming addicted to him.

Harry stood, his hand running up and down your thighs, squeezing them. He removed your panties from your mouth, leaning down to kiss you deeply. You blushed as you tasted yourself on his tongue and curiously ran a hand between your legs to feel the aftermath of your orgasm.

He watched, thinking it was so hot to see your fingers venture between your folds and along your dripping thighs.

"Feel nice?" He hummed, chuckling at your curious expression.

"So nice, I've never... I didn't think I could do that."

"You got me all wet, messy girl." He smiled, kissing you again.

He stood and helped you out of your dress, peeling off your bra so he could play with your tits. He sucked and bit at your nipples, feeling the fullness of your breasts in his palm.

"You're delicious all over, sugar." He admired your fully naked body. "Can't wait to feel you properly. See what that tight little cunt feels like around my cock."

He palmed himself as he spoke, so desperate to feel you. His expression was one of lustful longing, and you could feel it resonate between your legs as if you hadn't just had an earth-shattering climax.

"Take your clothes off." You whined, going to sit up and pouting when he stopped you.

He started to unbutton his shirt, revealing the white singlet underneath. "Stay just like that. Wanna give you my cock while you're sitting in my chair."

The chair where he sat before every show. Reciting jokes in the mirror while his hair was fussed over. The vanity where he'd first seen you, bent over it watering his flowers.

He got rid of his shirt, clearly impatient. He peeled off the white singlet too and you could have drooled at the sight of him. His broad torso and shoulders, his toned tummy, his strong pecs. The ink decorating him. Fuck, you probably did drool.

He caught the leg of the chair on his foot and dragged you closer, undoing his pants at the same time. You shifted forward, your hand reaching out to boldly cup his cock. He groaned, lulling his head back on his neck. His hand came over yours and urged you to squeeze him harder.

"You're so hard." You mewled, humming as he watched you feel him. His jaw dropped as you moved your hand expertly.

"I've been hard for you all night."

He was hyper-aware of the position you were both in and that you were on limited time. The studio was due to lock up soon, left only to after-hours security and the cleaners.

You leaned closer, pulling his pants down with his help. You ran your lips along his length over his briefs, letting your tongue flick out. He could feel the heat of your mouth seep through the material and he was losing his mind over the fact that only his briefs separated your mouth from his cock.

You peered up at him through your lashes, grabbing the band of his underwear to pull them down. You'd always been so reserved and controlled but the look on your face when you finally saw his cock had him fucking spiraling. Intimidation, thirst, determination.

With his pants and briefs pooled at his ankles, he guided you to take a hold of him. You obeyed, wanting to please him just as much as he pleased you. You pumped him slowly in your hand, loving how he felt in your fist.

"Your cock is so..."

Harry laughed, cupping your cheek and staring down at you expectantly. "What?"

"Pretty." It wasn't the word you were going for, but it wasn't the wrong word, either. He had a gorgeous cock, so thick and long. It was silky and hot and pulsed in your hand. You were impressed and intrigued.

"Pretty?" His voice was so soft as he regarded you.

"Yeah."

Pretty. He could deal with pretty. His thumb trailed across your lips. "Mm, and how's it taste?"

You pulled away marginally, grabbing his free hand and urging him to grab your hair in his tight first once more. You laid out your tongue and licked the tip of his dick, glistening with precum. You hummed at his taste and took him deeper, using your hand to spread your spit down his shaft.

Harry moaned deeply, taking a solid step forward so that you took more of him past your lips.

"Swallow me."

"Make me."

He narrowed his eyes at you, watching as you opened wide and held still, waiting for him to make you take it. With his hold on your hair, he guided you to swallow his cock. You were able to take about half, your hand working what you couldn't yet fit.

But he was helping you, not pushing you too far but doing it inch by inch. Your eyes began to water and you gagged when he pushed in deep. Your other hand was pressed against his thigh to keep yourself steady.

"Good girl." He praised, his voice low. "Take my cock so fucking well, don't you?"

He couldn't wrap his head around what was happening. He'd imagined this day far too many times to count, and it was always blurred by the unpleasant dynamic you two shared. But here you were, sucking him off after he'd made you explode around his fingers.

You loved having him down your throat. You enjoyed the challenge. He was so big and when you were able to take all of him, it was a feeling of satisfaction. He held you down until you were choking and your nose was buried in the hair around the base of his cock.

He wiped a tiny bit of smudged mascara from under your eye, admiring the blue of your eyeshadow and the colour of your lips as they wrapped around his cock. Fuck, he needed to be inside you. He was desperate for it.

He slipped you back onto the chair, angling you so that you were open to him. It happened so quickly and your mind was reeling at the sudden change. He was in full control and had no issue putting you where he wanted you. And you trusted him. He was so arrogant and you wanted to see if his bite was just as harsh as his bite. Considering the wet mess you'd made, it definitely was.

"Fuck, can't wait to feel you properly." He sighed, grabbing his cock at the base and running his tip between your legs.

Your gripped his arms, absentmindedly smoothing your fingers over some of his tattoos. "Beg me."

"What?" He raised a brow, his tone perplexed.

"Beg me to let you fuck me. You're an asshole, tell me you're sorry and beg me. Then I'll let you fuck me."

You didn't miss the way his cock throbbed when you called him an asshole, the flex in his jaw as he took in your words. Beg? Apologise?

He scoffed. "That's cute. As if you don't get so fucking wet when I'm an asshole to you. Just like how hard I get when you call me shit like that with that filthy mouth of yours."

You rolled your hips up, gripping his hip to pull him closer to you. "Please, baby. I wanna hear you beg."

The very tip of him slipped inside of you and you both moaned at the sensation. You were so wet and tight and he knew he could step forward and be inside you fully. But the expectant look you were giving him stopped him.

He gripped your throat, leaning down so he could bend over you. He gritted his teeth, his eyes hard on yours. "Please let me fuck you, sugar. Get you gushing on my cock over and over, fuckin' drown in your wet little pussy."

"Are you going to be nice?"

"But it's better when I'm mean." He crooned. "I'll make you take my cock, fuck you so hard, and won't stop until you cry."

Your eyes fluttered as he inched forward a little, sliding himself in further. The head of his cock was so snug inside of you and the way he stretched you had your toes curling. You brought your legs higher, hitching them up to his sides.

"Please," You mewled.

"Tell me, sugar." He needed to hear you say it. "Tell me you want me to fuck this dreamy cunt."

"Fuck me, Harry. Please."

"Hard?"

"Hard."

His hand tightened around your throat as he rolled his hips forward. He stretched you, so fucking big that he had to take his time to push past your tightness. His gaze narrowed as he pressed in tight, his hips flush against you. As he became fully buried inside of you, your vision tunneled on him and him only. On how good he felt, how his eyes were trained on yours.

He'd thought about what you'd look like stuffed full of his cock but he could never have imagined you being this perfect. Whimpering and moaning so fucking sweet while his hand was wrapped around your throat.

"Please move." You begged, feeling so overwhelmed with him being so thick inside of you but not moving.

He slowly retracted his hips, your pussy trembling to keep him there. He slowly pushed his hips forward again, groaning lowly as you clenched around him. He started out slow as first, wanting to ease you into it, his hands holding onto your sides. But you were desperate.

"You call that hard, baby?"

He shook his head, smiling at the bite in your tone. "You sure you can handle it?"

"What did I tell you about that ego of yours-"

He growled, seeing that you were toying with him again. He didn't want you to have the upper hand. So he started fucking you. Hard and relentless and strong. You cried out at his strength, his cock pumping against your g-spot so perfectly.

"Fuck yes, take my cock. Good fucking girl."

It was electrical. You were saturated from your orgasm he'd given you, he hit so deep, pushing against your front wall. He gripped your breasts, admiring as they bounced while he fucked you. He spat on them, unashamed in his desires to be so fucking dirty with you.

"Love your tits." He grunted. "Let me fuck them one day, sugar. Wanna see them fuckin' dripping in my cum."

"Yes, take whatever you want." You gasped.

You'd let him. He was cheeky and an asshole but he fucked you far better than anyone else ever could and he was just getting started. And you could find ways to keep his mouth busy when it started spouting nonsense.

"Yeah?" He hung over you, his curls dangling down. "Will you let me have you again, hm? Let me fuck your throat, your tight cunt, fuck- make you my plaything?"

"I want to be your plaything." You sighed, his necklace swinging in your face, glistening silver.

"You do, don't you? I'll have this pussy on my tongue while I memorise my script. Carry your panties around in my pocket and give them back to you when you've earned them."

The pressure was blinding and he brought your legs up over his shoulders so he could take you even harder. The legs of the chair scraped obnoxiously against the ground as he fucked you into it. He was brutal, making you take his cock with each harsh thrust.

You cried out, sobbing his name. He was so deep and you knew you'd be feeling him for days after. He picked you up, sitting you on the vanity. You leaned back against the mirror, icy against your back. He hauled your hips towards him, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He took his cock in his hand and fisted your hair with the other, holding you still so he could slide inside of you again. You clenched around him mercilessly, and he had to flex his hips harder so he could take you properly.

The vanity jolted on its legs under the force of him. Your hand wraps around his neck, trying to stabilise yourself against the onslaught of his thrusts.

"Call me an asshole again."

"Harry-" You jolted underneath him. "Fuck, you're an asshole."

"Yeah? Wanna hit me?"

"W-What?"

"Fucking do it. Slap me like I know you've been wanting to for the past six months."

Your hands clutched at his curls. Hitting him was the last thing on your mind right now while he was inside you. Until he'd brought it up, that is. You'd wanted to slap him on a daily basis and you wondered if he'd been reading your mind.

Mustering up courage enough to do so, you raised your hand and slapped his cheek. Not as hard as you could have, but the groan he emitted told you that you weren't gentle, either.

"So good." He grinned, his cheek reddening from your hand. You gripped his jaw harshly, licking your handprint before kissing him.

Your kisses moved to his neck and he tilted his head to give you more access to the skin. He flicked his eyes to his reflection in the mirror, finding his lustful expression, his cheek red, His eyes were alight with danger and arousal, driving his hips into you as he stared at himself. You moaned loudly as he pounded into you, unrelenting. Wanting you so out of it so that you could never look at him the same way again.

He imagined you looking at him during rehearsals, looking down at your Mary Janes with flushed cheeks. Your soft cadence as you asked him when he would fuck you next. Your surprised gasp when he'd pull you into a supply closet to fuck you hard and quick before anyone noticed your absence.

Just as you grew accustomed to the position, he flipped you, brushes and hair products flying off the top as you found balance on it. Your eyes met his in the mirror and they blazed through yours as he pushed himself into your warmth again.

"Fuck," He hissed, throwing his head back as you gripped him tightly. He held onto your shoulder and fucked you, near on slamming you into the furniture. His hand crept up to cup your throat, the other doing the same as he found a rhythm.

"Right there, don't stop." You gasped.

"Gonna think of this every time I'm in this room." He grunted. "Sit in that chair before a show and think about your perfect cunt around me. How you smile when I wrap my hands around your throat, how much you love having my cock to choke on."

"I want you to fuck me on this vanity every day, Harry."

"Every day, Sugar." He was breathless. "So much I wanna do to you. Play with you, make your pussy cream for me. Fuck, how did we go so long without this?"

He started using his height to his advantage, screwing down into you. You struggled to grasp clarity, your senses clouding as pleasure took over. His hands tightened around your throat and he took you harder when a ghost of a smile touched your lips.

He slipped two of his fingers in your mouth, hooking them into your cheek and pulling. He hissed at how fucking submissive you were and how you were willing to be just as dirty as him.

Letting go of your neck entirely, one hand moved to your hip and the other to your hair. He pulled you up, forcing you to look into the mirror.

"I'm an asshole but I fuck you good, don't I?"

You wanted to slap the smirk off his face. He could sense your annoyance at how cocky he was. He took you harder and you eyed him in the reflection, not wanting to give him an answer. And that didn't work for him.

He gripped your hair tight, pulling you back until his lips met your ear.

"Don't I?" He spat.

"Yes,"

He spanked your ass. Hard. Twice. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, you fuck me good."

Pleased, Harry reached in front of you, getting you to wet his fingers with your tongue before rubbing fast circles on your clit. Your legs turned to jelly, your body melting against him as he took you hard and played with your clit.

You felt the rush of pleasure wrap around you and grow in every nerve ending. He watched you in the mirror, intent on seeing you come again. He held you up while you writhed in his arms, his hips unyielding as he split you in half with his cock.

Your hands flew out, pushing various things off the vanity top as your orgasm barrelled towards you. Harry gritted his teeth, bending his knees to follow you as you moved so he could keep fucking you.

"You gonna come? Hm? Dirty fucking girl. Running around the studio with no panties on. This cunt was so wet for me from the start, wasn't it? Tiny dress, bossy little heels, and that fucking clipboard."

This climax was more intense than the first, but no less wet. You exploded around his cock, crying out his name before his hand came over your mouth to keep you quiet.

"Shhh. Good girl. Keep coming on my cock, don't stop, don't stop." He was feral at how good you felt around him, rubbing your clit until you were trembling at the overstimulation. His hips slowed, faltering. He was losing composure the tighter your pussy clenched around him.

He picked you up, not wasting any time in settling back on the small couch in the room. He laid flat on his back, while you straddled his hips. Your hands ran over his chest, nails digging into the skin as he gripped your ass and moved your hips.

His cock sat snuggly between your folds and you shamelessly rolled yourself along his length. You felt empty without him inside you and you lifted up, grabbing his length with a shaking hand, and slid him back into your warmth.

You both moaned out softly, his cock throbbing inside you. He could feel how close he was, as could you. Your hot and wet and dreamy cunt wasn't helping him stave it off. His vision was trained on you sitting on top of him like a fucking angel. Your tits, red from his teeth, your full hips, and your blissed-out expression.

He rolled his hips up softly, encouraging you to move. "Ride me, sugar."

You found a rhythm that had you shaking, so sensitive from your orgasms His cock pressed deliciously tight against your g-spot with every roll forward. With your hands flat on his chest, you started to bounce on him. You were so wet and the sound of it was making him crumble. The wet slaps and the way your pussy was drenching him.

His gaze met yours and he just about came. Your eyes lulled, cheeks flushed and your mouth agape as you fucked him. The most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. He grabbed your tits, playing and pulling your nipples with deft fingers. He strained his neck, moaning as you picked up your pace.

You wanted him to finish. To feel the toe-curling euphoria he'd given you. The one given when a connection like the one you had was this electric.

"Ooh, shit. Just like that." He praised, squeezing your hips so hard you knew they'd bruise.

"Yeah? You love watching me bounce on your cock, don't you?"

You'd thrown his own tactic right back in his face. The sweet voice with the daring question. Of course, he loved it. He was addicted.

"Fuck yes."

Your hand trailed up, lightly wrapping around his throat. He could feel the rings he'd given you to wear against his skin and he snarled, holding your hips and screwing up into you, meeting your thrusts. Having you fuck him with your hand around his throat had him fucking spiraling into another dimension.

"You're close," You mewled, his cock throbbing hard inside you. "I can feel it."

"Yeah? Go on, make me cum. I'm gonna cum so fucking hard for you, sugar. Gonna fill you right up, fucking take it. Take all my cum- fuck."

He let you take him while his orgasm hit. It was white-hot intense, his grip on you not lessening as he moaned out your name. He pumped you full of his cum, the thick white ropes painting your walls. His brow turned down in the middle, his lips parted a little and you could see the whites of his teeth. The thick cords in his neck protruded under your hand.

He was stunning and animalistic and brazen, even in a time when one is most vulnerable.

The muscles and tendons in his arms flexed as he held you down on top of him, humming out lowly as the flames of his orgasm dimmed into embers.

And while neither of you was sure how it would feel post the explosion, you'd expected at the very least that it would be awkward. You didn't have the fondest attachment towards each other but fuck if you weren't addicted to each other's bodies now.

He sighed, reeling in his climax. His hands crawled up your sides, encasing you and encouraging you to come down to him. He hugged you, sighing in your neck before kissing the skin. You could hear a commotion in the hallway of the crew leaving and it suddenly sunk in that you'd just fucked your boss.

And neither of you could wait to do it again.

"Should we get out of here?" He asked after a few minutes.

"We?"

"Mm. Head back to mine if you want. Got the new Sam Cooke vinyl we can jam out to."

You grinned, trailing your finger along his lips. "Can we fuck again?"

His expression mirrored yours. "We are definitely fucking again. Don't have to be as quiet at mine, wanna hear how loud you get."

You rolled your hips, feeling his cock softening and his release beginning to trickle out of you. He hummed, squeezing you as if to warn you.

"Behave, sugar."

"But that's no fun."

He couldn't disagree with that. He checked the clock and knew there was only a slim window of time for you both to leave the studio without raising any brows.

"Come on." He slapped your ass. "Let's clean up and cut out."

You slipped into the bathroom, your legs shaky from how hard he'd taken you. You cleaned up, as he'd told you to. Your reflection in the mirror was a sight for sore eyes and you tried your best to look presentable and not freshly fucked.

As you entered the dressing room again and gathered your things. Harry had dressed in his more casual clothes, a pair of mint dress pants and a t-shirt, throwing his fur coat over his shoulders. He noticed the way you slipped on your dress and smoothed out your hair, touching up your lipstick. He approached you, wrapping his arms around you as you stood in front of the vanity.

"You know I'm just gonna get you all messy again, don't you?"

"I'm counting on it."

He smirked, kissing your neck and fisting the hem of that tiny dress. You pulled away, eyeing the time. You bent over, going to pick up your panties and frowning when he snatched them up before you could.

"Hey, I need those."

"What'd I say, hm? You'll get them back when you earn them." He slipped the blue lace in his pants pocket, straightening his fur coat and holding out his hand.

"Jerk." You walked towards him, nudging his hand away and leaving the dressing room. A showcase that the feisty dynamic between you was here to stay. The lights were off in the studio now, aside from a few dim ones high up on the walls. He scoffed, racing after you. He lagged behind a few steps, wanting to watch your legs as you walked. You turned, throwing him a dubious look and he smiled innocently as he was caught checking you out. "What are you-"

A gleam of a security guard's flashlight lit up the wall next to you. Harry swore, pulling you towards the exit before you were spotted. You wouldn't get in trouble per se, but being sneaky was so much more exciting than sticking around.

"Shit- let's haul ass, sugar. Wanna play with you all night."

The warmth and adoration he felt on stage, under those lights with every pair of eyes set on him. It was a dimmed sensation compared to how he felt with you. His sugar. Saccharine yet equally as fervent, gooey and thrilling and sticking to him as if magnetised to his cells.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles filth #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #smut #hes #anon #hs #hslot

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hollygl125 · 2 months

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@tvarchive TV Appreciation Week 2024: Day 4: Favourite family: THE WEST WING (1999-2006), Found + First: First Season, First Appearances, First Lines (in order of appearance):

Sam Seaborn, Deputy Communications Director;

Leo McGarry, Chief of Staff;

C.J. Cregg, Press Secretary;

Josh Lyman, Deputy Chief of Staff;

Toby Ziegler, Communications Director;

Donna Moss, Assistant to the Deputy Deputy Chief of Staff;

Jed Bartlet, President of the United States;

Charlie Young, Personal Aide to the President;

Zoey Bartlet, (Third) First Daughter of the United States; and

Abbey Bartlet, First Lady of the United States.

I am the Lord your God. Thou shalt worship no other god before me.

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randomfoggytiger · 4 months

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The Evolution of Gillian Anderson's Friendship with David Duchovny

Early friendship:

He was an experienced actor when they started The X Files, she had been receiving unemployment benefit and had been in front of cameras only once before.

And she admits: "I desperately needed someone to show me the ropes and David did. He was wonderful."

There were rumours of a secret romance, which would have got them both fired on the spot. It is a strict studio rule that there will be no intimacy between the stars - off screen as well as on.

But Gillian did find love on The X Files, in the shape of assistant art director Clyde Klotz. And she did turn to Duchovny for advice after acting spontaneously on her wedding night, taking no precautions and finding herself pregnant.

She was horrified, believing she would get herself fired and ruin her career.

[“I went into his trailer,” she recalls, “and I said, ‘David, I’m pregnant.’ It looked like his knees buckled.... And he asked me if it was a good thing. I said, ‘Yeah, it is.’]

But her co-star, who was the only person she confided in apart from her husband, put Gillian's mind at ease.

He advised her not to have an abortion - that things would work out. And they did.

He kept her secret while Gillian thought things over for a month.

1995:

David Duchovny is not happy.....

Anderson, sensing Duchovny’s mood, looks down at his hand on her left shoulder and tries to brush it away, as if it were a mosquito. Then she turns and jumps into his arms, laughing, looking like a little girl making trouble for a protective older brother. Startled to be holding her, the smile on Duchovny’s face is forced no longer.

...“We really trust each other,” Duchovny says simply.

There is, between these two, a real-life camaraderie born of necessity, a friendship strong enough to survive too many work hours, and a chemistry powerful enough to rearrange the atoms on-screen. “Whenever we’re acting together,” says Anderson, “it’s there.”

1997:

But in real life, Duchovny and Anderson have a relationship as much a conundrum to outsiders as any X-File.

“We have a relationship that is completely odd and fabricated,” Duchovny says. “We’ve been thrown together, two people who don’t know each other, and we’ve been forced to spend more time together than married people do. So you can’t describe our relationship as ‘like’ or ‘dislike.’ ”

Sounds a little frosty.

“It is frosty,” Gillian Anderson agrees when she is read Duchovny’s description of their relationship. “But it’s accurate.” She laughs. “It’s not that we don’t like each other. It’s complicated.”

2008:

Question: Can you talk about getting back into these characters after a five or six year period?

David Duchovny: The first two weeks I felt a little awkward and I didn’t really feel like I wanted to do longer scenes. I was just fine running around. Then as soon as Gillian and I started working and it was Mulder and Scully, then I kind of remembered what it was all about and that relationship kind of anchored my performance just as I think the relationship anchors this film.

Shock: What’s that like with David now that you’re not with each other 16 hours a day on a series?

Anderson: It’s great, but it was great then, too. This is like a sibling relationship and I never had siblings.

What is your favourite thing about each other?

Duchovny: Gillian just doesn't give up.... She'll hang in there 'til we get it right.

Anderson: ...The easiest answer, I guess, is his sense of humour. He's always looking at the funny side of things, especially when he's around other actors who are comedians or funny themselves - it can turn into a bit of a contest to see who does the best impressions and such. But aside from that, there's a gentleness inside him that comes out every once in a while that is quite disarming and lovely. It's rare, but very nice.

2014:

Q: Was there a sense of almost a bunker mentality where you were at least going through this process with David? You mentioned he had more experience, he had done some bigger films but still the phenomenon that emerged within the first couple years was pretty remarkable. Did it help to have him there too and kind of like “Are you getting this too? Are you going through this too? Is this weird?”

A: No. No, not really. We talk about the fact that it’s crazy that we didn’t. And that we didn’t take advantage of the fact that we had each other but it was complicated. These were long hours that we were working. We spent more time in each other’s presence than we did with our, you know, spouses and children, etc.

But also, you know, I think we p***ed each other off, quite frankly. And I have no doubt that after they’re waiting – we’re gonna roll and somebody has to come in and redo my lips and the difference between the maintenance for guys and gals and we’re shooting in all weather – you know, we never shut down except for one day for weather in the entire show. We were shooting up in Vancouver through rain, sleet, everything. And my hair would frizz up to here in between takes and they’d have to get the blow dryer out under the tent and we’d be waiting for Gillian’s hair to do another take. You know, that p***es you right off. It adds up. So I, you know, I’m sure there were plenty of things he did that p***ed me off too. It just wasn’t, you know, but on the other hand.. NOW, we get to talk about that and we’re probably closer than we’ve ever been.

2015:

Not surprisingly, she and Duchovny also became the story – according to the press, they were having an affair, hated each other or both. “I mean, yes, there were definitely periods when we hated each other.” She starts again. “Hate is too strong a word. We didn’t talk for long periods of time. It was intense, and we were both pains... for the other at various times.”

How was Duchovny a pain... for her? “Erm ...” Ten seconds pass without a word. Meanwhile, her smile gets wider and wider till it’s halfway up her cheeks. “I’m not going to get into it. I’m not even going to begin to get into that. But we are closer today than we ever have been.”

2016:

Anderson on working with Duchovny “Our relationship has definitely become a proper friendship over the last few years. I think we’re more on each other’s side. We’re more aware of the other’s needs, wants, concerns, and mindful to take those into consideration— and just sharing more about our experiences in the moment, under the sudden realization that we’re both in this together, and wouldn’t it be nice if it were a collaboration?”

2018:

They've worked together for 25 years but Gillian Anderson wants to make one thing clear: David Duchovny does NOT feature in her Ex Files.

While on screen their relationship left viewers wondering whether they would ever hook up romantically, Gillian says that off camera they were never very close.

In fact, she goes so far as to admit: "I don't know much about David Duchovny. If you asked me 10 things about him I'd probably get nine of them wrong."

...But now Gillian sets the record straight, saying: "We were never close. It's true we spent more time together than we have in any other relationship but it doesn't mean we were close.

"Very often when you're working long hours you may have a chit-chat between scenes but you're not really standing around talking about personal lives.

"And very often you don't have meals either at work or outside of work together because you're in each other's company all the time.

"So I actually don't know very much about David Duchovny, but we appreciate and respect each other."

2021:

Stella made a new friend today.

2023:

A huge congratulations to my old friend @davidduchovny on the world premiere of his film Bucky F***ing Dent @tribeca which he wrote, directed and stars in! A massive accomplishment and can’t wait to see it. (ps I’d say some of your prior writer / director gigs with me went pretty well and this was all just yesterday, right? 😉) #Tribeca2023

2024:

Awww Double D I’m so sorry. He was your guy. RIP Brick Duchovny

Lastly but not least,

a comment from David, 2024:

"My former X-Files costar Gillian Anderson and I are really good friends. ...When you share a seminal kind of experience in your life-- the huge success we had with that show-- only we know what it's like to be in the center of that. It's almost like being in the same family...."

#txf #GA #quotes #interview #DD #catchin up on old news

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roguehongsami · 4 months

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Paramour.

—★ pairing/s: ceo!san x fem!assistant

—★ genre/s: smut, au

—★ synopsis: being san's favourite employee comes with endless perks. from lavish gifts to trips around the world, he'll get you whatever you want. but then there's the downside that leave your self-esteem shattered every once in a while, & new year's eve was no different.

—★ content: unprotected sex (condomize), oral sex, semi-public sex, cum eating, fingering, voyeurism, nipple play.

—★ word count: 2.1k

* DISCLAIMER: THIS IS FICTIONAL. IT IS NOT A REPRESENTATION OF CHOI SAN'S CHARACTER, PERSONALITY OR BEHAVIOUR. THIS IS SOLELY FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES. *

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ the weeknd, jennie, lily-rose depp // one of the girls

"San Choi's office, how can I help you?... Mr. Choi's a bit preoccupied right now, can I take a message instead?... Have a good day."

The phone call concluded as she hung up the phone. She put one hand on the desk to support her own weight, the other raking through San's hair. Her head thrown back and mouth fallen to an 'O', she was careful not to be loud. His grip on her thighs unrelenting as he held her in place, face nestled between them.

"That was Wooyoung Jung of Jung Holdings..." she muttered between moans. "The sale went through, they'll bring the contract tomorrow."

He squeezed her thighs to signify that he heard her. His tongue laved every bit of her, slurping her nectar. Lips planting kisses on her bud. The vibrations of his groaning against her core had her tightening her legs around his neck. She slowly let herself go on his tongue, her chest rising and falling as she tried to train her breathing. He got out from beneath her skirt, taking the handkerchief from his desk and wiping his mouth.

"You have a meeting with the director of Kang Enterprises in 30 minutes." she said while buttoning her blouse. "It's at Oasis."

He rose to his feet, fixing his tie and jacket. "We better leave now so we can beat the traffic." he extended out his hand.

She took it, descending from the desk to the floor, "Thank you." she said.

They took their leave, exiting the building and getting into San's private car. The silence filled by clicking on their phones. In the nick of time, they arrived at the lounge where the meeting was hosted. Side by side, her heels clinking against the marble floor, they walked toward the entrance. San led her to an open bar by the general area.

"Stay here. Order whatever you want, just put it on my tab."

While the meeting took place in a confined space where her presence was debarred, she remained at the bar. Already on her second martini in the last hour, the gathering went on far longer than both parties anticipated. As she downed the last of her beverage, the doors opened. All the men exiting, just smiles and laughs while San donned a tight-lipped grin, they exchanged farewells and dispersed. He approached her from behind, his hand gliding over her thigh, startling her a bit.

"That took forever, it's already getting dark out." she said, putting the glass down on the counter.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think it would go on so long. I need you to send our quarterly expense report to Yeosang by tomorrow afternoon." she nodded, taking out her work phone to set a reminder. "Let's get you home."

During the 30-minute drive to her loft that was located on the other side of the city, their conversation was work-related. They snuck glances of one another while the other was not looking. The driver soon arrived at her residence, parking the car right by the entrance. Instructing the driver to wait, he walked her all the way to her door. She fished for her keycard in her handbag. When she found it, she swiped it over the scanner, unlocking the door. As they entered, San studied the pristine interior. She put her handbag down on the kitchen countertop.

"I trust you'll be coming to the New Year's Eve gala this Friday."

Her lips pursed. "If I can make it back from Dublin on time, maybe."

He closed the gap between them, towering over her small frame. "Then you better make it." he whispered.

Always caught in a losing battle between himself and restraint, San could never keep his hands to himself, not around her. Whatever self-abnegation he had would dissipate whenever offered an opportunity to be alone. His hands grabbed her waist, meandering down her body until they found themselves a place behind her thighs. He hoisted her onto the dining table. Fingers playing with the hem of her underwear, he removed them, placing them in the pocket of his slacks. Bucking her hips up, she snaked her legs around his waist. While his lips explored every inch of her neck, before moving to her lips, her hands fiddled with the buckle of his belt.

"Sir!" a voice called out from the door.

San sighed irritably as he halted all actions. "What is it, Arthur?"

"There's an emergency at one of your hotels that requires your immediate attention." Arthur responded.

"You know I hate to do thi–"

"San, go. I'll see you tomorrow before my flight." she pecked him on the lips one last time before dropping her legs to the side.

He planted a kiss on her forehead before leaving her to her solitude. She watched as his back walked away, Arthur closing the door behind him. After a few moments, she took a shower before heading to bed, and calling it a night.

[ . . . ]

The silk robe fell from her shoulders as she reached over the vanity for the body lotion. Squeezing a bit in her hand, spreading it out as she applied it all over her body. The potent smell of cocoa butter spreading to the rest of her bedroom space. The doorbell rung downstairs. She hastily covered herself as she descended down the steps, careful to not miss a step. Through the peephole, there was a deliveryman in uniform on the other side. She opened the door. They exchanged greetings. She signed for her package before he handed her the enormous box.

Her fingers ran over the black branding on the white box, admiring the lettering. She removed the lid, her eyes lit up almost immediately. She took the garment by the straps, bringing it out of its packaging. Holding it over her body while standing before the mirror. The first whiff of the new smell relaxed her. It was arguably the most beautiful gown she had ever owned. It was a champagne-coloured A-line dress made of satin, with a thigh-high slit.

To match the dress, she wore teardrop crystal earrings and an 18-inch princess necklace with matching gemstones. As she clipped on the tennis bracelet, the doorbell intonated. She swiped her clutch from the bed and hurried downstairs. When she answered, there stood San in a black tuxedo. As he soaked in her image, a smile broke out on his face, revealing his dimples.

"Thank you for the dress, Sannie."

"God, you're so breathtaking." He grabbed her by her waist, "I could just take you right here." he opined.

He led her out of the building and into the car, opening the door for her then circling to the other side where Arthur awaited him. Arthur closed the door and took his place behind the wheel. While San spoke on the phone, she studied his face, his perfectly sculpted face. She leaned into him, pressing her lips to the edge of his own as he spoke. Her hand caressed his hard chest, travelling down his torso, then palming him. His words drowned in his throat at the feel of her hand. He quickly regained his composure as she massaged his clothed crotch. The phone call concluded.

With his hand on her neck, he said. "You're a really naughty girl, you know that?"

"That's why you love me." she grinned, biting on her lip.

"More than anyone I've ever known."

His lips pressed onto hers, his tongue explored every crevice of her mouth. Hand gliding from her waist, slithering past the slit and into her underwear. Gently rubbing her throbbing bud, he trailed wet kisses over her neck, groaning against her skin. As she grew increasingly wet, he slotted two fingers inside of her. Breath hitched. When she opened her eyes, she caught Arthur's gaze in the rearview mirror.

"The partition..." she said, breathlessly.

"I'm sure Arthur appreciates the show." he nipped at her shoulder, then leaned into her ear, "Now sing for us." he dictated.

He slid in another finger, stretching her out. Her nails dug into the leather of the seats, head thrown back as she mewled away. The air in the car was hot, heavy. Listening to his tenor voice sing sweet nothings into her ear, driving her closer to her release. When he felt her grow tighter, he pumped his fingers faster until she unravelled. Descending from the ecstasy, she caught his lips while her hand begun undoing the zipper of his pants. He stopped her.

"We're here." he chuckled at her enthusiam but she complained. "You can make it up to me on our trip to Seychelles tomorrow, but right now, we need to go."

San instructed Arthur to find a parking spot for the night as they exited the vehicle. They entered the ballroom where all the attendees of different corporations were present. With every person that came their way, he introduced her as his assistant, which was true, but she resented being assigned only that title. They exchanged contact details, and went their separate ways. When Wooyoung and his assistant, Shannon, approached them, they stood in pairs as they spoke amongst themselves.

"San's your boss?" Shannon whispered, not wanting the topic of the conversation to hear from a mere inches away, but he did. "God, he's so fucking hot. You're so lucky."

"Careful, he can be a gaping asshole sometimes." she jokingly remarked, eliciting a pretentious scoff from her superior.

As the night progressed, the festivities grew increasingly prosaic for her liking. Most of the night was spent networking on San's behalf, while he, Wooyoung and Yeosang drank and laughed the night away. Downing the rest of the champagne, she set the glass down on the countertop. There was 15 minutes until the clock struck midnight, and the fireworks display would begin to welcome the New Year. She abandoned her station and headed for the elevator, taking another glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

The elevator doors opened. She stepped out and wandered down the hallway until she found an empty room to rest. She kept the room dark, standing outside by the balcony, finishing the rest of her beverage. The crisp wind brushed past her skin, lulling her nerves and bringing her mind to an absolute stand still. Allowing herself to absorb and admire the cityscape, San came in and locked the door. He stood behind her, hands gripping onto her figure, resting his head on her shoulder. Holding his hands as she melted into his arms.

"'A gaping asshole' you say?" his tone low.

She couldn't help the subtle laugh she unleashed. "Have I ever been wrong?"

He kissed her neck, her shoulder, all while undoing the straps of her dress. The material fell to her waist, revealing her breasts. The feel of the frigid breeze prompted her nipples to stand at attention. His hands played with them as his left soft pecks on her skin. She held his hands as she guided his every move. Barely containing herself, her soft cries left her mouth. His hand ventured into her underwear, only to find that she had already been drenched in her own arousal. He took the leg exposed through the slit from behind, placing it over the railing. A swift breeze brushed past her near-exposed core, making her yelp. He brought down his pants enough to draw out his already-erect member.

Lifting the dress up and moving her underwear to the side, he slipped the tip in, with every inch he buried inside her, she was stuffed. Stretched to capacity. Regardless of all the times they had done it, she could never quite adjust to his leviathan size. His thrusts were gentle and steady. With one hand on her neck, the other toying with her sensitive nub, he pounded into her litherly. Far from prying eyes and desperate ears, she allowed herself to be completely vocal. Every cry, met with a satisfied groan from San.

"Who's my favourite girl?" he grunted into her ear.

"I am." she croaked out.

"Promise you'll never leave me?"

"I'm yours forever, San."

He picked up his speed, grinding into her at full force. Every hit grazing her cervix, tip brushing past her g-spot. His arm wrapped around her waist for a better grip. Slowly encroaching was her climax, the knot in her stomach growing tighter with each thrust. His body began to tense up, face buried in the crook of her shoulder. His tell. Hips moving irrhythmically as he snapped against her skin. Finally, the coil in her stomach came undone as her orgasm washed over her like a tidal wave. He stilled deep inside her as his load sprayed out in large quantities. They stayed in their position for a few minutes while he slowly thrusted everything back inside her. He pulled out. Pulling his pants back up as she tied the straps of her dress.

The fireworks display begun, with a myriad of colours embellishing the empty canvas that was the midnight sky. Smoke lingered in the air with sounds of explosions occupying the atmosphere.

Reeling her in by the waist, the space between them shrunk, "Happy New Year's, love." he chimed with a loving tone.

Arms thrown over his shoulders, "Happy New Year's, Sannie." she said with much love in her eyes.

They shared a passionate kiss. It was truly the makings of a movie, a dream, as the fireworks went off behind them. They parted and made their way out of the room, heading to the ballroom on the ground floor. Exiting the elevator, they walked down the hallway. They stood in the doorway for a few minutes before San had to walk away. He meandered through the sea of bodies. It was too loud to hear anything. He and another woman exchanged a few words, leading her to the middle of the dance floor. There was no appropriate way to react as she would risk exposing their relationship.

So she watched as San danced the night away with his wife.

#ateez #choi san #san smut

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colourstreakgryffin · 5 months

Note

Hallo again! I am the one who asked about Val, it wasn't a request I was asking if you write for him so here we go!

Could it please be where reader is Valentino's son ( or just child if you don't write for male reader ) and Valentino can't find someone to trust-worthy to babysit his son so he just take him to work since reader is non-verbal anyway and won't be much of a bother?

So reader now comes regularly with him and see the other Vees as family. Perhaps Vox as another dad/uncle and Velvette as a big sister ( or any family role for them ).

Thank you for giving a look to my request!

Ooh! Right! Okay, okay. I can try this out. To be honest, Val is a monster but something tells me he wouldn’t be THAT bad with a kid of his own and yes, I do write male readers. Female, male, transgender, genderfluid(if that’s possible, idk how but I would do it anyway), nonbinary/GN! But anyways. Let’s try Val out as a dad!

Valentino- Silkworm Caterpillar

Everybody who knows the director of the Pentagram City’s Porn Industry, Valentino, is aware how much of a bastard he is; cruel, abusive, exploitative but nobody had ever suspected that he would actually one: have a son and two: treat that son better than he’s ever treated anybody, even his on-and-off boyfriend, Vox

Your dad’s an insufferable man-child but yet, he is actually pretty good with you. He doesn’t really like much things, other than you. He is awful but he feels kinda soft and fluffy whilst he is around you. You’re basically his soft spot

Valentino needs hugs and he will get them, no matter what may step in his path. You are non-verbal and mute so he cannot communicate with you properly, he just acts on his affections for you since he believes it’s fine

Valentino is that type of wingman-father. He always encourages you to get out of your comfort zone and boosts you up to look even better. He’s a close friend to you and you can hang out with him in casual settings where it almost seems like he is just your uncle, not your father

Valentino always offers to get you what you want, he is a father that spoils his seed rotten. Want a drink? He’ll get it. Want a phone? He’ll get it. Want more hugs? You’re getting them rather you want ‘em or not. He likes it when you smile and he does very much have favouritism towards you, where he almost never raises his voice to you

Valentino is actually protective, believe it or not and he is defensive over his son. Rather said son be above ten years old, he doesn’t trust a single being in Hell. Not anybody in Vees, not any under their luck bum he picks up for hire, not any one of his assistants. Nobody. He doesn’t ever want to leave you with somebody who can cause a threat

Valentino doesn’t really want to resort to this but after some more time. He decides to stop leaving you in the Vees Tower. You’re alone and you need him so he begins to bring you to his porn studios but what he does is that he glues you to other devices so you don’t have to be uncomfortable with watching pornography

Valentino is relatively soft and gentle. Even somebody as deranged and sick as him has a moment of love and affection and it’s in his son. He could be the most pissed off and at his absolute worse but when he is greeted by his offspring, he swallows back everything to be doting to you

Valentino calls you his silkworm because you’re a little caterpillar to him. He’s the moth, you’re his caterpillar and he’d pop you on his back and spread his wings for you if he had to. He enjoys your reaction of surprise and awe at his rather beautiful moth wings. He can understand where it comes from, it’s incredible. Isn’t it? He likes it when you’re proud of him or in awe of him

Valentino is aware of your deafness. You’ve been deaf since he had you… back in human life. Believe it or not, but he did and he actually cared to get you hearing aids but after you two died, he lost a hold of hearing aids and he has literally no other methods to help you

Valentino also much prefers you like the Vees themselves and the effort proves worth it since you end up viewing his on-and-off boyfriend, Vox as a stepfather and Velvette, their close friend, as a surrogate big sister. Valentino finds your point of views on his fellow rulers rather adorable and will playfully tease you about them

Valentino is learning sign language, since now of this time, sign language has been fully developed but he is struggling and his temper makes him go from trying to giving up to trying again. He’ll get there eventually, all for you

Valentino out here doing aggressive sign language and failing a whole lot

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miniteezez · 1 year

Text

By Your Side

C.Jongho x fem!reader

Synopsis: As ateez's 9th member, jongho makes it his job to look after you always.

Warnings: reader gets hurt, bad language, injury

Happy late birthday jongho!!!

When he first found out you would debut with Ateez, Jongho was very unhappy. Only Hongjoong had met you, he raved about you. But jongho was content as eight. He was stubborn. Until he met you. The minute you walked into the room, it all changed. As soon as you introduced yourself, he was smitten. Even though you took position as youngest member, Jongho didn't complain again. Instead, he took it upon himself to take you under his wing. When it came to sharing dorms, none of the other members dared to go with you. That was always his place, to be by your side. He sometimes became envious of Mingi and Hongjoong. As you were a rapper, you were with them often. Even so, he never strayed from you. Your fans loved seeing the two of you together. The moment they (and jongho) found the most adorable was from an interview. When the presenter asked who you were closest with, you wasted no time in saying it was jongho. And, when she added why? You simply said, "he's my personal Teddy bear.".

Currently, you were on the final day of shooting for the 'Dont Stop' music video. Everyone had filmed their chunks of the video except for you and mingi. You two had a scene of being thrown out of a car.

"Now then. This has to be done very carefully ok? Renea are you OK to step in?" The director turned to his assistant to help film the scene. She just hummed, glaring slightly. For some reason, you got the feeling she really didn't like you. But, pushing that aside, she was good at her job and helped where possible. Jongho was completely preoccupied. His arm was loosely around your waist, hand messing with your skirt. Since seeing your outfit for the shoot, he'd been glued to you. Wearing a ripped black jumper, it hung off your shoulder and was tucked into a short pleated skirt. With mismatched length socks, one to your thigh one to your knee, you also wore boots. He thought, no he knew you looked stunning. So much so he didn't realise he was subconsciously stopping anyone from going near you. The director called you and mingi over, jongho still unconsciously following.

"Now then. Don't actually push them. You're just there for them to act off of, ok? Mingi will go first." He explained to which she just nodded and cilmbed into the car with mingi. Everyone stood to the side, watching as they did a few takes. Mingi made it look really easy, falling effortlessly every time.

"I'm nervous." You whispered, turning to look at the taller male. Jongho smiled, kissing your head softly.

"We're all here, I'm right here. OK?" You nod quickly, reluctantly leaving his side once mingi was finished. Jongho watched as you climbed into the car and started talking to renea.

"They don't get on very well." Hongjoong commented, seeing your uncomfortable expression as the assistant spoke.

"No, they don't. I wonder why?" Seonghwa folded his arms, pouting in wonder. From the side, wooyoung giggled slightly.

"I think renea has a crush on jongho." The boys all looked at the second youngest. Most of them understanding. Jongho furrowed his brows.

"She does?"

"Yeah, she's got you as her wallpaper. I think she doesn't like (y/n) because you're so close." San observed, wrapping an arm around Woo.

"She can't handle that (y/n) is your favourite." Yeosang walked over, standing beside yunho. Rolling his eyes, jongho glanced over to you and hummed.

"Well she'll either have to get over it or leave. Because it's never going to change." The boys all smiled at their younger friend, admiring his deep connection to you. Of course you were their youngest, and they all looked over you. But you were Jonghos number one. When the music began, everyone looked over to the car. Hongjoong frowned, stepping forward and squinting to see better through the dimmed windshield.

"Is she - is she yelling at her?" It was only then the boys realised renea looked angry and could hear her raised voice. But by then, it was too late. They watched in shock as she very forcefully pushed you out of the car. You landed against the rubble with a harsh thud, curling in on yourself immediately. Hongjoong went full angry captain, storming over to the director.

"The fuck was that?" He spat to the equally shocked man. He stuttered incoherently, but Jongho wasn't paying attention to that. The minute your body hit the floor, he felt his heart drop and blood go cold. Without a second thought he was at your side. Hooking his hands under your arms, he pulled you up into his lap. Instinctively, you tucked your face into his neck and Jongho could tell you were crying. The car was quite a step off the ground and, judging by how hard you fell, he knew you'd be hurt.

"Hey, can you look at me sweets?" Gently, he cupped your cheek, bringing you to look at him. He felt instant anger at the sight of your tears, the cut on your cheek and just the hurt in your eyes. Bringing you back into his embrace, he held you protectively for a few minutes.

"Can you stand?" When you nod, jongho helped you to your feet before turning to Yeosang. Coming over, jongho urged you to the other man before making a beeline for renea.

"Why did you do that?" She just looked at him bored.

"Oh I didnt do anything. She's just being dramatic." She scoffed, having the nerve to even smile. Jonghos eye twitched, hands gripping at his coat as to not do something stupid. Seeing this, Hongjoong walked over with the manager.

"Are you so jealous that you had to throw her out onto a dirt road?" He almost laughed, if

it wasn't for the rage. Huffing , renea let out a laugh.

"As if I'd be jealous of that thing. Plus it was just my job. I dont know how you care so much. She's nothing special." Losing it, jongho launched for the assistant, only to be pulled back by the director and hongjoong.

"It wasn't your job to hurt the artist. Follow me." Your manager took her away swiftly, leaving the others to calm down the youngest male. Yeosang rubbed your back as mingi looked over your wounds with a scowel.

"We'll get you fixed up, ok?" He reassured but you just sniffled, looking past the tall man to Jongho. Exchanging a knowing look, Yeosang and mingi turned.

"Oi! Jongho!"

"Get over here!" Startled, jonho escaped the men holding him and came back. He carefully took you from Yeosang into his own arms. Both of you physically relaxed at the contact, his fingers running through your hair.

"Come on. We're done here." Hongjoong announced, leading everyone out.

Back at the dorms, no one commented as jongho took you into his room. They understood. You sat on his bed, looking down at your lap as the male grabbed some supplies. Sitting beside you, jongho lifted your legs onto his lap and frowned. Both knees were bleeding, grazes and bruises littered along your skin. He couldn't stand to see you hurt at all.

"This might sting." You pressed your head against his shoulder as the disinfectant made contact with your broken skin. Biting your lip to suppress any noises of pain, a stray tear rolled down your cheek.

"What did she say? When she was yelling at you?" He asked, wiping over your knee with care. You sniffed, wiping your face and most likely smudging your makeup. But you didn't care.

"She just, she said I was a whore. That I'm embarrassing to see." Hearing this, jongho clenched his jaw and nod slowly.

"Why did she say that?"

"Because I'm always with you. Because I'm obsessed in her eyes..." After finishing on your knee, he turned to you with a stoned face expression.

"She's jealous. You know that right?" When you just looked confused, jongho smiled and pulled out a wipe. He took it to your face to gently remove your make up.

"She wants to be you. Wants to be in your position." His voice was kind, hand moving softly along your skin.

"She likes you." You mumbled, jealousy written all over your face.

"Yeah? Well you're the only one who can have me." Making eyecontact, you blushed heavily, letting his words sink in.

"You mean?"

"Was I not obvious enough?" He chuckled, stroking your cheek tentivley. Leaning into his touch, you smiled up at him. His eyes wondered over your face, taking in every detail. Putting a hand on his neck, you drew him forward and placed your lips against his. Although initially shocked, jongho kissed back instantly. His fingers laced through your hair, pulling you flush against him. In that second, you both forgot the situation that lead you to this point. When you parted, his thumb ran across your cheek lovingly, a redness painting your face.

"I really wouldn't mind if you were obsessed with me." He smiled almost shyly, causing you to laugh quietly. Cupping his face tenderly, you kissed across his face sweetly. From his forehead to his cheek to his chin. Letting your lips linger on his, jongho felt his face wash over with red.

"I just might be." Immediately, he simpered, kissing you once again. You smiled against his lips, arms hanging over his shoulders.

Reluctantly, jongho got up, clearing his stuff away before helping you change into some comfy clothes. You crawled under the covers of his bed and waited patiently for him to also change. It didn't take long until he was climbing in beside you. He wasted no time in pulling you into his chest, allowing you to wrap yourself around him comfortably.

"Hongjoong texted. They fired renea. Which is great. But imagine her reaction to seeing us together." He smiled proudly, fingers running up and down your arm soothingly.

"I imagine she'd do worse than push me." After saying that, jonghos grip tightened.

"I'd probably kill her." He said without emotion causing you to giggle. You loved the protective side of him. Tucking your head under his chin, you sighed in content and closed your eyes.

"I think we're getting take out later." His voice was quiet, knowing you were resting.

"Noodles. Spicy." Jongho smiled at your sleepy response, lips pressing to your temple. For now, he'd hold you whilst you slept. He'd savour the feeling of knowing you were finally his.

#ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #jongho x reader #choi jongho #choi jongho x reader

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imaginariaextraordinaire · 3 months

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Came for the above. Stayed for what's below.

Episodes 11 and 12 of Midnight Romance in the Hagwon are a treasure. The writing and direction are terrific for the way they show Seo Hye-jin at her lowest as well as how she recovers. Chef's kiss for the scene in which she invites Assistant director Wu and Director Choi for dinner. Also, what a fantastic arc for Pyo Sang-seob, who ends up having the best kind of professional rivalry and friendship with Seo Hye-jin (no one could have guessed this was coming considering the first couple of episodes).

I wasn't looking forward to the humbling of Seo Hye-jin — perhaps my least favourite romantic trope — especially since she's been such a joy to watch in the early episodes when she's at the top of her game. Love her friendships with Ms. Nam and Attorney Cha. So having enjoyed all that, I was ready to feel grumpy when Seo Hye-jin would have to fall from grace (because how else can you do a 16-episode drama, even if it is one of those slow, slice-of-life beauties). Except so far, writer Park Hyung-hwa hasn't so much cut Hye-jin down to size as much as shown her learning from her defeat. I really felt her when she told Lee Jun-ho that what he was saying effectively made it seem like her life's work has been pointless. At the same time, I also felt for Lee Jun-ho, who is able to hold his ground and make the point that he doesn't agree with Hye-jin's style of teaching even though he is inspired by her. This is writing that is alert and sensitive to ageing, competition and all the complicated feelings that come with maturing.

#midnight romance in hagwon #jung ryeo won #wi ha joon #ahn pan seok #kdrama

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defira85 · 2 months

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Couldn't sleep well last night (day ending in y and all that) so for some reason my brain decided to fixate on Macbeth which is tied for my favourite Shakespeare (the other is Midsummer Night's Dream, so I could say it's my favourite tragedy at least). I was in a terrible production of Macbeth in my late teens, trying to work out if I wanted to go into theatre as a career, I knew I wouldn't get a space in WAAPA as an actor (not sure if it's still the case but WAAPA was the most prestigious theatre/performance school in Australia in the 90s and early 00s, Hugh Jackman trained there) so I was doing some intern work in the sound booth and assisting the musical director and the sound techs for this show and it was just. So bad. In the way that only local theatre productions can be. They'd paid this guy to fly out from Sydney to be the director and he was soooo baad at it, jesus, he was very much an "I have my artistic vision and I will communicate it in vague and cryptic ways and you must understand it implicitly or I will lose my temper" sort of artist. He didn't want sets - instead he had a "greek chorus" of teenagers clad in full black who ran around stage carting huge swathes of black sheet plastic that they held in place to be the set pieces

Understandably, the constant crackling of plastic was insanely distracting while the actors were having quiet monologues

Anyway, I love Macbeth, and I always like to think about what sort of adaptation I'd do if I ever got to direct something. I fucking love The Cultured Bumpkin's take on Marcus Aurelius' speech from Julius Caesar and the occasional talk about linguistic shift and accent drift and how the accents in parts of the US are a better match for how Shakespeare would have been performed at the time and all and I thought

Macbeth as a story about a megachurch pastor, trying to move up to the role as head preacher. The southern gothic aesthetic versus the oversaturated, overproduced colours and lights of a megachurch service. The forced niceties and backstabbing of church wives for Lady Macbeth, dressed in starched white dress suits and pearls. The three witches as the last remaining members of a rundown catholic convent on land the megachurch is trying to buy, whose earnest religion is so foreign to them that they might as well be magic

The woods of Birnam come to Dunsinane Hill? Well, the carpark of the church is full of Subaru Foresters that the cops from Birnam drove over in to arrest him

I will now be taking donations starting at ten million dollars for my vision

#Defira rambles #Macbeth #Shakespeare #The Scottish Play

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w0uldyoubemine · 4 months

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HI I saw your ask to Neil, may I ask what you worked on on our beloved Dead Boy Detectives??? That’s so cool

Hi! I was an assistant director on the series. Loved it - it's one of my favourite shows that I've worked on.

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lostinthewoodsomewhere · 3 months

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Could you rank Jesse's outfits?

Hell yes I can!!!! Strap in lads, I've decided to put this under the cut because it got... long. Thank you so much for this question anon, I'm sorry if it's not quite what you wanted, it kind of ran away from me!!! But please know that I had so much fun doing this!! I'll take any excuse to talk about Control fashion!!!!

Okay, so:

The Director's suit

What can I say, just look at it, 10/10, no notes (well, lots of notes, but all about how much I love it!!!) Absolute perfection!!! The details on this outfit!!! The triangle on the back, the little triangle on the shoes, the cut outs on the jacket, the hair pin?????? It's truly everything to me, and I love it's story significance of visually showing Jesse embracing her role as Director, it's just the perfect example of everything the FBC and Oldest House is!!

(Also, fun fact, the first thing I thought when I saw it was 'oh, yeah, I understand why this is one of Julia Drawfee's favourite games now'...)

2. Asynchronous suit

Again, what can I say??? Look at it, this thing is just gorgeous!! Oh, the details!!! The structure is so beautiful, all the different shapes, the Brutalist nature of it all!! Also her cute little boots, I love them and the way they blend into the leggings!

Also, as someone who would desperately love for Jesse to get a skirt at some point, the half skirt and the way it moves in combat is everything to me, ahhh it looks so good!!!

3. Civilian outfit

I love her original outfit so much!!! It's so simple, yet it manages to be so iconic!!! I remember someone I was watching complain that her outfit wasn't great because it doesn't stand out enough, doesn't make her look like enough of an outsider, but personally I completely disagree! Control is such a high aesthetic game, and Jesse's civilian out so perfectly compliments the aesthetics of the Oldest House through its colour scheme and silhouette! Especially the back of the jacket, I absolutely adore the structure of it, it kind of has a similar energy as the Asynchronous Suit with the sharp Brutalist energy it has. But at the same time, by making it a leather jacket and jeans, it stands out so clearly from the (sometimes unnecessarily extra) formal shirts and trousers/skirts the others wear.

Anyway, love it! Also adore the bright blue of the original jacket!!!

4.Janitor's Assistant

Love it!! Love it so much!!! I adore the rolled up sleaves and trouser legs (whether this is for fashion or practicality, I do not know, but it is aesthetically pleasing none the less). Also, I love the detail that's she's wearing her original boots with this outfit, it feels like a cute visual cue of how comfortable she feels in this outfit/role. Also, the fact that Ahti gives it to us personally for a job well done just, perfection...

(also look at her little hammer and plyers, she deserves them!!!)

5. The Golden Suit

I do indeed enjoy the Golden Suit, I mean, it's a variation of my beloved Director's Suit, and has a lot of the same details I love that one for, but it just doesn't hit the same for me. I think I would prefer if it had a white shirt, or the shirt was a little darker as the greyish colour just isn't quite for me, (though it could be the darn lighting in the Oldest House). But still, I do indeed love it, I mean look at her, she still looks incredible even if its not quite my style!

6. Expedition Gear

You know what, I used to think I didn't like this outfit, but it grew on me as I was looking at it for this, and you know what, I love it now!! Like, to begin with it's one of the outfits that has the ponytail, and I absolutely adore this hairstyle!!! The way it moves in combat is gorgeous, and I enjoy the effort made to give her a high pony style that doesn't make her look like Beth Wilder!! But again, rolled up sleeves, super cute, the zipper/clasp detail on the side, it's all giving practical but fashionable, and I'm so hear for it!!

7. Extradimensional Suit

She's cool!! I mean, this outfit has the ponytail, so that's already a win! It's not my style, or the sort of thing I'm interested in, but I can appreciate it for what it is. The colour scheme is gorgeous, I love all the textures and shapes, particularly the piping around the neck (it reminds me of the mail room/pneumatics!). And as always, she looks incredible in it, so a solid outfit all round, just not one that makes me go feral, you know?

8. Office Assistant

I do very much love this outfit, I think she looks adorable, there's just not that much going on. I do love her little sensible heels, and the fact that the shirt is pinstripe rather than plain, it's cute!!! It's also just, it just is the FBC, it's such a recognisable look throughout the game, so I very much appreciate it!!

(Can you imagine if we got the pencil skirt version too????? Sigh, I can only dream...)

9. Candidate P7

Again, like, story wise this outfit is fascinating- (I've been thinking recently, like, at what point did Darling decide Dylan was a lost cause, and what did that mean for their pursuit of Jesse?? Is there a reason they just happened to have a prime candidate outfit ready for her, exactly in her size???)

Anyway, fashion wise there's not much to say, though I never realised you could run round the Oldest House in little socks, that's cool!! It also looks so cosy, but it has far too many lore implications for that, so unfortunately it does come last, but it's still cool!!

Bonus Round- Pre order exclusives

1.Tactical Response

You do not understand how unbelievably sad it makes me that this was an pre-order exclusive and I can not have it, because I love it so so much, it is gorgeous!!!!!!!! Look at her, she looks incredible!!!! The pony tail, the monochrome, it's like her civilian outfit but just elevated to the highest degree, I love it so muuuuuuuuuch!!!!!!!!!!

2. Astral Dive suit

I feel similarly about this outfit as I do the Extradimensional suit. Not quite my style, but I highly appreciate it, it's beautiful!! Also her hair, ahhhhhhh!!

3.Urban Response

It's cute!! It has a lot of the things I love about the Tactical Response, but the colour scheme just doesn't hit the same! The top is so cute though, I love it!!!!

And, uhhhhhhh, thats it :) If you made it to the end of this, thank you, I am incredibly impressed!!! Anyway, the clothes in Control are incredible, and this is only Jesse's outfits, there's so many other amazing clothes in this game!!! Like genuinely, the commitment to fashion in Control is incredibly important to me, and will always be one of the things I love most about this game!!!!

(I am literally always ready to talk about it, so never hesitate to message if you want to talk about it with someone!)

#I don't care if nobody reads this it's now my magnum opus for this fandom...#remedy control #control remedy #control 2019 #Jesse Faden #she #the fashion of control #thank you so much for this question anon!!!!#i'm sorry again if this wasn't what you actually wanted but I couldn't help myself from going a little feral with this...#Clothes and fashion are very important to me and this game just hits all my buttons!!!#Control 2 please I need more suits!!!#long post

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goldenempyrean · 1 year

Note

i have a supergirl request for sick alex at the deo with prompt “Goodness, you look like your about to pass out.” “Don't come too close. You don’t wanna catch this.” And “It's chaos here. I can't just stop working because I have the sniffles.” if thats okay? x female reader please

Wintertime Woes

〚 Notes - I am loving these Alex requests recently :D Also the amount of content I'm feeding you all with lately damn, I'm in my "let's write 95 stories in a day and don't sleep" era. Enjoy while it lasts :,)〛

〚 Pairing - Alex Danvers x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - During a flu outbreak at the DEO, Alex falls ill and tries to push through her responsibilities despite her worsening condition. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 1200 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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Winter had always been Alex’s favourite season. The crisp, cool air and the occasional pile of unmeted snow that covered the curbs somehow always made her feel calm. She loved it all. However, there were inconveniences to the wintertime, namely slippery roads, frigid hands, and most prominently, sickness.

The flu had been sweeping its way through the DEO - it was bound too this time of year. With so many agents working in such close contact it was almost impossible to avoid. Not matter their rank or importance, it eventually made its way round the squad’s and not even the Director herself was spared.

Alex stood woozily in the control area, her hand clutching a crumpled-up tissue as she leant over the main desk, her other clumsily rubbing at her temple. She looked awful. Your soft hand came to slide round her waist from behind and the exhausted woman sank into your touch.

She coughed into her tissue, “Don’t come too close, you don’t want to catch this.” Alex warned through her croaking voice, yet she made no effort to move away.

“I’ll take that risk. You weren’t sick this morning, what happened?” You mumbled worriedly, burying your head into her neck, prompting her to rest her head against yours.

“The flu is characterised by a rapid on-set of symptoms. It’s been spreading like wildfire around here, you know that.” Alex whispered before her voice broke off into a hitch.

You felt her body tense up, and you quickly reached for a nearby tissue box, pulling out a fresh one and handing it to her just in time. Alex sneezed loudly, and you could tell she was trying her best to suppress it, but her body couldn't hold it back any longer.

“Bless you!” Kara called out as she came flying into the building (she’d just finished assisting the fire department with an accident downtown)

“And again, my my, bless you love.” You repeated her sister’s words, gently rubbing Alex's back as she sneezed for the second time. Her body felt warm against your touch, and you knew she was hopelessly fighting a fever.

"Thanks," Alex rasped weakly, her voice flooded with congestion as she pulled out of your hold to grab some tissues to blow her rapidly reddening nose. 

"It's chaos here. I can't just stop working because I have the sniffles," Alex replied with a weak smile, trying to maintain her composure despite feeling so unwell. She knew her responsibilities at the DEO were crucial, after all, without her there to manage and dispatch agents who would keep things running smoothly?

She was stubborn, that was sure. It took another hour of misery before Alex reluctantly gave in and gave shuffling into the room where you were training some new recruits.

“Alright guys, that’s enough for today.” You dismissed the group, letting them leave the room before opening your arms and letting the feverish woman fold into them, “Your breathing sounds awful y’know.” You sighed, at the small raspy breathes coming from the woman in your hold.

“I’ve been told.” She muttered, keeping herself close to you, sniffling against your shoulder.

You shook your head lightly, “We should get you laying down. Come on.”

She continued to sniffle and sneeze as you gently guided her towards the infirmary. Her steps were slow and unsteady as the two of you made your way. Though you practically had to carry her up the stairs the two of you finally got her there, being met at the door by Kara and Lena.

“I called her,” Kara explained as Alex curled herself onto one of the medical beds.

Lena approached with a concerned expression, placing a hand on Alex's forehead before scanning a thermometer along her brow. "39 degrees, you're burning up, Alex. You should’ve rested when you first felt this coming on.” She said softly, glancing at you with gratitude for bringing Alex to the infirmary.

Kara hovered nearby, her super hearing detecting Alex's irregular breathing and rapid heartbeat. "I'll grab some water and a cool cloth," she suggested, zipping away and returning quickly with the items.

You stayed by Alex's side, gently wiping her forehead with the cool cloth as Kara handed her a glass of water. "Try to drink a little,love. It might help with the fever," you encouraged, giving her a reassuring smile as she held your hand, rubbing her thumb over your own.

Alex took a few sips, but it was evident that she was struggling to keep herself composed. "I... I hate being so out of commission," she admitted weakly, her eyes showing a mix of frustration and vulnerability.

Lena spoke softly, her caring tone trying to comfort her friend, “You need rest to recover properly. I’ve seen how hard you work yourself here, nobody’s going to forget that if you take a few days to look after yourself for a change.”

Kara nodded in agreement, sitting by Alex's side. "We'll take care of the DEO for now. You just focus on getting better," she said, giving you an affirming nod.

With concern etched on your face, you gently squeezed Alex's hand. "They're right, Alex. The DEO will be okay, and we'll handle things while you rest. You need to prioritize your health now."

Alex's tired eyes softened as she looked at you, appreciating the support from her friends and you. "Okay," she finally relented, realizing that she couldn't keep pushing herself like this. "But promise me you'll keep me updated on everything?"

"We promise," Lena replied, speaking for both her and Kara. "You can count on us."

Kara placed a reassuring hand on Alex's shoulder. "And I'll keep checking in on you, Lena’s gonna write you a prescription for some Tamiflu, I’ll pick it up and drop it off for you tonight.

With that said, you helped the shivering Director from the bed, letting her lean fully against you as you led her from the building. Where a DEO issued car was already waiting to pick you both up.

During the ride, Alex gave into her exhaustion and fell asleep against your shoulder. You held her close, running your hand through her silky hair. By the time you’d reached her studio, Alex was completely passed out. Nothing short of a city-wide invasion would be waking her now. 

Carrying her up to her room, you made sure to tuck her safely into bed, gently pulling off her uniform and changing her into some softer, more comfortable clothes before climbing into the open space beside her, smiling as even in her sleep she snuggled up beside you.

“Sleep well baby.” You whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her head, “and you will be definitely taking a sick day tomorrow, Director Danvers.”

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#alex danvers x reader #supercorp #alex danvers x y/n #supergirl #sickfic #fluff #comfort #whump #alex danvers #alex danvers sickfic #alex danvers x fem!reader #kara danvers #lena luthor

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cophene · 10 months

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07 || * • ° art gallery thief

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

pairing : ohshc x gn reader summary : perhaps no one at ouran is more qualified to deal with a broken heart than the host club. with a student’s heartbreak painfully obvious to everyone but themself, the host club takes it upon themselves to remedy that. all against that student’s better judgement. notes : multi-chapter fic, sfw, doesn’t follow canon plot word count : 2.5k+

“Your mother was wondering if you would be able to stop by one of the galleries to pick up a statue for the gathering tonight. I’m afraid she forgot one of them and it happens to be one of her favourites.”

You finished off your drink, nodding at your family’s valet. “Yeah, no problem. It’s that marble one, right? The one of the milkmaid?”

The valet inclined his head. “That would be the one. If you could deliver it before seven, that would be ideal. I would go myself but the director requires a signature from the family.”

“Gotcha.” You swung off your seat, then went through the foyer outside. You waved your hand for your chauffeur to come meet you and slipped into your car beside him on the passenger side.

Your spare time was usually spent on volunteering and volleyball practice. Since you’d taken a break from all of that though, you found yourself lazing around your house and slinking through your thoughts a lot more. Your parents liked giving you little errands to do every now and then, but it always felt a little redundant considering your family’s valet, chauffeur, and various staff members could get the job done just as well.

You rested your cheek on your hand, watching the streets pass by. You guessed that your chauffeur was a lot less busy now too, considering you were home almost all of the time now.

Your parents crept around your breakup like it was a landmine. They knew about it, and likely the rest of your family staff did too, but they were very careful never to mention it. As far as they were concerned, the trip to Malta had never happened, and you were just taking a break from all of your hobbies to avoid burnout. You appreciated the discretion, but the nosiness that simmered was almost as bad as outright prying would have been. Everyone treaded lightly around you, like you would break into tears at the merest breath about Malta. So far, only your valet treated you normally, his briskness the same as it had always been.

You sighed quietly. It was a little irritating, but your family and the staff were the last people you wanted to talk about the breakup with.

Honestly, he was the only one you would be willing to talk to and that only made you sadder.

Get over him. What’s so hard about that?

You let your head thud against the glass. You never should have gone to Malta. Who even went to Malta for vacation anyways?

Your chauffeur dropped you off at the gallery and you nodded when he told you he’d be waiting near the front entrance. It was close to closing time and visitors were starting to trickle out of the gallery. Having been here a few times already, you made a beeline to the director’s office, none of the paintings or artwork on display notable enough to catch your eye.

You knocked primly on the door and waited. You found it strange that the director didn’t answer right away, since she tended to know when you would be coming around. You knocked again when five minutes went by, starting to feel impatient.

“Are you looking for Madam Director?”

You internally cringed at the nasally voice. “Yeah, is she in?”

“No, she left for the evening. Is there something I can help you with?” The unfortunate voice belonged to a walking beanpole wearing a yellow sweater and a bad haircut. You didn’t recognize him. He must have been a new assistant.

“I’m here for L/N-san. There’s a statue here that I'm supposed to pick up for display at her party tonight.”

“I didn’t hear anything about that,” Beanpole said. “The gallery doesn’t have a policy of lending anyone anything.”

Oh boy. This guy was really new. You smiled sweetly at him. “L/N-san is a major benefactor and shareholder of the gallery. The statue … lease has already been approved of beforehand. I’m sure if you call Madam Director, she can confirm.”

Beanpole frowned. “All art pieces in this gallery are quite valuable. I doubt any benefactor would be cleared to lease anything. I suggest you leave if that’s the story you’re sticking with. The gallery will be closing in twenty minutes.”

Who in the— why was this beanpole giving you a hard time? All you wanted was the statue that your parents were probably going to display on the patio. Did he think you were a thief? One that was stupid enough to ask for the statue straight up?

“Look—” you gritted out, but just then you felt someone pull your elbow until you were flush against their side.

“There you are. We lost you.” The person fluttered their fingers at Beanpole. “Sorry about that. It’s so easy to get lost in this lovely gallery.”

They pulled you away and you let them until Beanpole was out of sight.

“What are you doing here?” You couldn’t help sounding accusatory.

Tamaki raised his hands. “Why, I’m appreciating art and culture. And now that you’re here, exceptional beauty.”

You clenched your jaw. Then, the back of your neck prickled and you swivelled your head.

“Great, the Demon King’s here too.”

Kyoya came to stand beside Tamaki, his hands tucked into his pockets. “It’s the Shadow King, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

You looked between the two of them, instantly suspicious at how well-dressed they were. Tamaki was wearing coral-pink trousers and a flowy, paisley button-up. Kyoya’s light-blue turtleneck was slim-fitting and tucked into dark pants.

Tamaki innocently echoed your question. “What are you doing here?”

A snarky response was on the edge of your tongue but you swallowed it, not having the energy for it. “I’m here to pick up a statue for my mom but Beanpole over there won’t let me get it.”

“Oh, you mean the new assistant director?” said Kyoya. “He is quite the stickler for rules.”

“How do you know that?”

Kyoya looked at you. “You don’t know that?”

You raised your hackles. “Yeah, well, I need that statue.”

“If you need help, then Kyoya and I would be happy to,” Tamaki said, grinning.

Need was a strong word, but you weren’t in the mood to deal with Beanpole right now and Kyoya and Tamaki were already in front of you. You shrugged and Tamaki clapped his hands together, looking positively giddy. He pulled Kyoya aside and the two of them began speaking quietly, too quickly for you to pick anything up. They seemed to agree on something and purposefully made their way toward the assistant director.

“You wouldn’t happen to be the gallery director, would you?” Tamaki asked, in the tightly polite tone you always heard everywhere.

Beanpole straightened, obviously flattered. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “Assistant, actually, but what can I help you with?”

Tamaki extended a hand. “My associates and I are here on behalf of the Ootori Group. We are looking into possible investment and sponsorship opportunities at this gallery and would appreciate a tour if you could give us one.”

“We apologize for the short notice,” Kyoya continued smoothly. “We’re aware the gallery will be closing soon. We can always return at a later time if that’s more convenient?”

“Oh no,” Beanpole said quickly, flapping his hands. “I can give you a tour. Please, follow me.” He was so excited, he didn’t seem to notice that he’d told you off earlier.

Practically tripping over his feet, Beanpole gestured the three of you through a restricted access door nearby, scanning his keycard to swing the door open. This would be the storage area where all artworks not currently displayed were kept under wraps. Tamaki went on ahead to engage Beanpole in meaningless prattle, giving you a chance to look around for your statue.

“Was that really the best you could come up with?” you asked Kyoya.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Kyoya pursed his lips in Beanpole’s direction. “Although, he’s even more airheaded than I originally thought. Someone acquainted with the Ootori Group would recognize me as one of the sons.”

Sons. Plural. “You have brothers?”

“Two elder brothers and an elder sister.”

“Aw, so you’re the baby.”

Kyoya raised an eyebrow. You shrugged. Not that Kyoya acted at all like a youngest child.

You had a vague idea of what the statue was supposed to look like, but you couldn’t find it anywhere among the shelves. It was lucky that Tamaki could talk like a wind-up toy because ten minutes later you still didn’t have the statue.

“It might be in the director’s office,” you said to Kyoya, falling into step beside him. “I can’t find it out here.”

Kyoya nodded, quickening his pace to catch up to Beanpole.

“This is all very interesting,” he said, curtly cutting Beanpole off. “However, these are all quite mundane pieces. Surely you have something more exclusive in your collection? Something more worthy of the Ootori Group’s time?”

“Maybe something in the director’s office?” Tamaki unsubtly suggested.

“There is something in there,” Beanpole began haltingly. “However, it’s on hold for a private collector. “

The private collector being your mother, of course. “We’d like to see it,” you said forcefully, catching onto Tamaki and Kyoya’s ruse by now. Beanpole led you to the office immediately.

Lo and behold, the stupid milkmaid statue was just sitting in the director’s office waiting for you. You were already lugging it out when Beanpole pointedly cleared his throat.

“I don’t mean to offend you, but the director and the gallery greatly value art and art history.”

“Yeah, so do I,” you huffed.

“What I mean to say is that we don’t take kindly to people taking advantage of our art pieces for monetary gain and a false love of art. Do you happen to know the exact piece that you’re taking out right now?”

You wouldn’t know a Picasso if it slapped you in the face, so no, you had no idea what the statue you were tugging on was. Tamaki was gracious enough to save you, however.

“I believe it’s a Souvingeur, sculpted sometime in the late eighteenth century.” He smiled knowingly. “A replica, though, of course. An original would be too heavy to transport. I believe all of the originals are still in France.” Tamaki reached out to swipe a finger over the statue’s cheekbone. “Not only that, the colours are a touch too bright. Souvingeur favoured pale, washed out paints for a more weathered look. His works were commonly displayed outside in gardens. He would often create nicks and imperfections in his work himself to further the illusion of age.”

Tamaki’s voice changed slightly whenever he said Souvingeur. He had a good accent. A great one, actually.

“Do you know who this milkmaid was modelled after?” Tamaki asked Beanpole, turning the tables. Beanpole blinked rapidly.

“Er, his mother, if I remember correctly.”

A touch of sadness entered Tamaki’s gaze. “Most people tend to think so. Although the statue bears more of a resemblance to his childhood friend, whom he was quite fond of. Some even posit that they used to be lovers, although that might be more wistful thinking.”

For a beat, everyone just stared at Tamaki. He looked around, a flush rising up his cheeks.

“Of course, that’s just what I read,” he said quickly.

“No, that was lovely. I’ll make note of that,” Beanpole said, smiling. He helped you lift up the statue, then went to shake Tamaki’s and Kyoya’s hands. “It was great to have you. I hope the Ootori group will be in touch about that investment opportunity.”

“Certainly,” Kyoya said.

And that was all it took. You were outside with the statue a minute later.

Tamaki still looked a little embarrassed about his statue rant. You found that you didn’t mind it. It was somehow extremely fitting for him.

“Well, thanks, I guess,” you said, talking awkwardly around the statue. “I appreciate the help.”

“It was nothing,” Kyoya said. “Consider it a part of your treatment.”

You were briefly at a loss until you remembered. “You mean my ‘heartbreak’ treatment? It’s not even club hours.”

“We’re opting for a more—”

Kyoya didn’t get the chance to finish. Footsteps rushed towards you and you nearly dropped the statue at the sight of a bunch of uniformed security guards running straight at you.

“What the—” Kyoya and Tamaki yanked on your arms. You stumbled along behind them, heart in your throat.

“Do they think I stole this?” you spluttered, trying to get a better grip on the milkmaid statue.

“Most likely,” Kyoya answered.

“But I didn’t! How many times do I have to tell them that my mom told me to get it?!”

“You should’ve explained that beforehand,” Tamaki said, swiping his hair from his eyes. “Kyoya, where’s your car?”

“I don’t need a car, my chauffeur—”

“No time! We won’t be able to heal any broken hearts if you’re behind bars!”

You risked a look over your shoulder and cringed. You couldn’t have looked guiltier if you’d tried. Tamaki and Kyoya pulled you into a nondescript black car and you barely managed to get your ass in behind the statue before Kyoya was peeling out of the parking lot like a maniac. You slammed your head into the driver’s seat and fell back with a groan. You only just remembered to jam your seatbelt into place.

“To Y/N’s house!” Tamaki shouted.

“How do you know where my house is?”

“We should, considering we’re late for your parent’s art gathering.”

You bolted upright, then choked as the seatbelt protested. “How do you know about that?!”

“Honey. And Haruhi, this time.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t remember inviting either of you!”

“It’s the least you can do after we got the statue for you,” Kyoya said calmly. With the way he was weaving through cars, this couldn’t have been his first time running away from something.

“I didn’t need your help. You did that on your own.”

“We’ll be nothing but courteous to your parents,” Tamaki assured you. “We have experience entertaining parents and guardians at Ouran.”

“My parents are the last people I want you to meet.”

“I have a spare tie if you want to put it on before the party,” Kyoya said. You scowled so hard at him your face hurt. It was bad enough dealing with these two at Ouran. Now you had to suffer their presence at your own home too?

To your extreme annoyance, Kyoya pulled into your front drive as though he’d been here a dozen times before. Tamaki rushed out to open your door for you but not before you opened it yourself and nearly broke his nose. You got out and aggressively pulled out the statue with you.

“Careful, you’ll chip it,” Kyoya said. He just managed to dodge when you swung it in his face.

As you stomped up to your front door, you heard Honey call all of your names in relief. You looked around the statue to greet him, then paused at the sight of two identical slate-grey blazers.

“Who invited you?” you barked.

“We invited ourselves,” one of the twins sniffed.

“Someone had to brighten up your boring art gathering,” the other one said.

“Because this couldn’t get any better,” you muttered. “Hold this.” You shoved the statue at Mori, unlocked your door, then went back to grab it without inviting anyone inside. You paused, half-hoping all of the hosts would just leave, then growled when you heard them all enter the front door.

It was going to be a long night.

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#ohshc #ohshc x reader #ouran high school host club #gender neutral reader #disceohshc

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