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likeastarstar · 4 years ago

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Boredom, Disinterest, & Intimidation.

Summary: Jungkook's in that suit and he's bored and you're not impressed by much...except for him. and then you fuck him in a public restroom.

(A/N: WARNING! SMUT AHEAD! for the anon requesting striped suit jk...I got severely carried away this is so much longer than I intended...feedback is appreciated.)

masterlist.

You weren't impressed by much.

Men were too boring to be impressive most of the time. They watered their personalities down, made themselves too accessible to be deemed worth it for your effort. Basically, you thought you were better than most of them. Your friends said you should lower your standards or risk being forever alone, but you didn't really understand why that was such a bad thing. At least you liked your own company, preferring to fly solo most of the time.

That's what you were doing at the event you were at, a networking thing that your company sent you to in order to make connections in different industries your CEO was interested in. You were the go-to for this sort of thing, where you had to be coy and work a room with no commitment.

You stared at the glass in your hand, wondering how many flutes of champagne the woman standing next you had consumed. She swayed off beat to the instrumental music playing and you couldn't help but guess that it wasn't a lack of rhythm that was causing it. Someone called your name and you lifted your gaze, falling on a bulky looking man with a kind smile. You recognized him as the PR connection your company had, one who was in charge of not only your own company but several larger clients in the entertainment industry. You smiled at him easily, floating over to where he was.

"Let me introduce you to my friends, they're in the music industry." He said pleasantly, gesturing to the group of men standing beside him.

You scanned the group neutrally, recognizing them instantly. Of course you knew who they were. You wondered why you were being introduced to them but soon connected the dots when you heard they were looking to explore the possibility of expanding their tour set-ups, primarily in the technology area, an aspect your company could help with. The tallest man did most of the speaking, his warm smile and easy going humor making it easy to see why countless people were in love with him. Your eyes stuck on another member of the group however, one standing towards the back with an uninterested look on his face.

While the rest of the men looked towards you eagerly when you spoke about previous experiences with audio and performance oriented tech expansions, he stared off to the side with his hands in his pockets. You studied his figure- black and grey striped suit tailored to a tee, skimming the length of his lean body. Straight shoulders, thin waist, legs for days- his proportions were scientifically perfect. His hair was gelled and neatly parted, jet black matching the inky color of his eyes. Everything about him was unapproachable, from the bored purse of his lips to the eyebrow piercing that reflected the light in a sort of warning. Another one of the group began saying something, sparking his attention.

His eyes flickered to you, flying over you at first and then doubling back to study you more closely. He frowned slightly, blinking a couple times before realizing you were staring back at him, refusing to look away.

"Seems like they're about to start the dinner, where are you seated?" Someone asked you, causing you to tear your eyes from his.

You just happened to be seated across from the man in the striped suit, who's name you had heard a couple times but had forgotten since you didn't personally pay attention to things like that. You ignored him and the way he slouched over in his chair, pushing his hips forwards with his neck stretched to the side so his head could rest back on the chair, watching the rest of the room out of the corner of his eye as if he couldn't be bothered to interact with it himself. He was distractingly handsome, chiseled jaw cutting a sharp line through space.

You started a conversation with a woman to your left who ran a charity organization or something, the details weren't really sticking in your mind since a certain someone had decided instead of zoning out, he'd zero in on you with total focus. You turned your head slowly towards him when you couldn't take the tension you felt from seeing his gaze locked on you out of the corner of your eye anymore, the knot of anticipation only tightening when you noted his smirk.

"Do you normally stare at people?" You asked in a flat tone.

"No," He said simply. "I actually make it a point not to make eye contact with people at these sorts of things. I'm making an exception."

He leaned forward in his chair, face tilted slightly so he was looking up at you through his eyelashes. You resisted the urge to squirm in your chair- this wasn't you. You didn't get intimidated easily, you were the one doing the intimidation usually. He rolled his broad shoulders back, sitting up straight as if to let you get a better look at him.

"Don't bother," You quipped.

"Aren't you bored?" He asked, a slightly surprised expression breaking the air of neutrality around him. "Don't you want to do something fun?"

"I'm working, I don't worry about having fun while I'm on the clock." You said, rolling your eyes before refocusing on the conversation you were having before as the appetizers were served. He was right though, things like this were incredibly boring. Rarely did you ever have fun at company events. You thanked the waiter, words hitching slightly when you felt a stiff shoe glide by your heeled foot, an ankle hooking around yours brashly. You blinked and looked back towards the man in the striped suit, a neutral expression on his face other than slight lift of his eyebrow, the silver hardware of his piercing sparkling. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth to resist saying anything, trying to stop the heat pooling towards your lap.

You looked away quickly and he laughed, it's charming silvery tone ringing in your ears in a way that only distracted you further. You pushed your foot against his unconsciously, rolling your ankle around his as you carried on listening to the conversation around. It wasn't until he pulled away from you, touch ripped away that you realized you had been so forward with your actions. You watched him rise out of his chair, body limber and lean, looking down at you with a menacing intensity. He quirked his eyebrow again and you watched him stalk off towards were you knew the bathroom of the restaurant to be.

Even his walk was distracting, the way his shoulders rolled, hands swinging slightly, practically gliding across the room.

"What were you saying?" The woman next to you asked, tapping on your shoulder.

"I," You started, still staring off in the direction he disappeared to. "I was saying that...You know, I actually will be right back, I have to make a phone call."

You got up quickly before you really knew what you were doing, pushing through the waiters still trying to serve the large room full of VIPs. You passed the hallway to the bathroom when a hand snaked out and yanked you to the side, a now familiar pair of eyes staring down at you.

"I thought you didn't want to have fun?" He asked, a small smile on his face.

"I'm making an exception," You mocked, repeating his words from earlier before kissing him brashly.

His lips were soft on yours, tongue fighting against yours for control of the kiss almost instantly. His hands smoothed down your body and pushed you into the bathroom, ass pressing against the countertop. You matched his ferocity, biting down on his lip and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him down closer to you. He lifted you onto the countertop, hands still kneading any part of you he could get his hands on. His hand settled on the jut of your hip, breath panting out as he moved down to your neck, kissing and sucking the skin there.

"Don't fucking leave a mark," You snapped, words venomous despite your hands pulling him between your knees. You hooked your legs around his figure, sighing as he pushed a sleeve of your dress off your shoulder and bit down on the space of your skin that was previously covered, laving over the spot with tongue.

"I'll be careful," he promised, "No one will see. My name's Jungkook, by the way."

You felt a lick of heat in the pit of your stomach, something animalistic that told you to keep going, ask for more, demand it from him. You didn't bother telling him your name and he didn't ask for it, pushing a hand up your dress instead. His hand rubbed circles on your skin and you realized he had rings on, cool metal pressing into the flesh of your thigh. Your brain felt like it was fizzing out, dial tones going off instead of coherent thoughts. God, why did his hands feel so good on your body? Why was he such a good kisser? What cologne was he wearing?

"Tell me to stop," He dared, pulling his lips off of you. He rested his forehead on the top of your shoulder, hand freezing in place. You said nothing, watching instead as he tilted his head back up to you with a surprised expression.

"Don't," You mumbled, voice so quiet you'd think he didn't hear you if he didn't smile at you. It wasn't a smirk this time, not a sly little expression, no cockiness in sight. He looked...sweet. Pretty. His eyes were sparkly and his cheeks fluffed up when he smiled like this, nose crinkling slightly. You felt your heart pang and wondered what the fuck was happening to you- who the hell was this guy?

"You wanna get fucked by a stranger in a random bathroom?" He grinned, going back to the cocky motherfucker you had known all night. He stood to his full height, hand still kneading into your skin as he gazed down at you, eyes catching on your parted lips. He tilted his head and leaned in, stopping just shy of contact. You skated a hand down his body, pressing fingertips against the firm abs you could outline under the silky material of his shirt, smiling slightly when you heard his breathing stop as you dragged your palm over the crotch of his pants, outlining his hard cock with your fingernail and wrapping your hand over it. You squeezed lightly, feeling Jungkook's fingers push up your leg and pull your panties to the side, "You're interesting." He mumbled, frowning slightly.

"No, I'm not," You said flatly, just before he dragged a finger through your folds. You breathed in sharply, feeling him brush past your clit and press down lightly, hips bucking up slightly. He thrust two fingers in you suddenly and you moaned. Jungkook kissed you, muffling your noises of need with his mouth on yours. Your back arched up to him, mind completely blank as he started pumping his fingers in and out of you. "Slow-"

"No, fast." He grunted, "Gotta open your tight little pussy up if you want my cock. You do want my cock, right baby?"

You kissed him desperately, feeling his fingers split and scissor inside of your pussy, his thumb rubbing into your clit in rough motions. Nothing about what he was doing to you was gentle or soft, pushing you, stretching your limits, teasing you where he could.

"Yeah," You nodded, "Yeah, I want you to fuck me."

Your breathing became labored and you felt your chest heave as he curled his fingers, looking for a certain spot until a jab of his fingers had you spasming. He kissed you still, smirking against your lips as he angled his fingers to hit the same spot over and over until he had you cumming around his hands, wrapped around his finger like a cute little bow, willing and able to do anything he wanted you to. He was staring at you again, inky eyes locked on your face, scanning your expression as you came like he was trying to memorize it. He pulled his hand away too quickly, taking your panties with him.

Jungkook tucked your now ruined lace panties in his suit pocket and gazed at you, grinning as he unzipped his pants, "Okay, I'm gonna fuck you now."

"Okay," You said weakly, feeling your pussy spasm around nothing.

He shuffled closer to you, standing in between your legs as he pumped his cock. You peered down, wanting to see what his cock looked like before it entered you. Shit- he was huge. Maybe he should've used another finger. You watched him reach in his wallet and pull out a condom, tearing it open quickly before rolling it over his cock. You bit down on your lip nervously, realizing how much this was about to sting.

"What? Nervous? Wanna stop?" Jungkook asked, tilting your head back up to look at him with a finger underneath your chin.

You locked eyes with him, eyes warm and inviting. His lips were flushed pink and had some of your lipgloss smudged on them, cheeks flushed and a glow on his skin. He was really pretty like this. He was just pretty in general. No, you definitely didn't want to stop.

"No," You said simply, "I want you."

He smiled and nodded shortly, lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in with one smooth motion, "What pretty girl wants, pretty girl gets."

You laughed shakily, leaning into the slight burn of his cock splitting you open, "Whatever I want?"

"Whatever you want," He nodded, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before starting to move his hips, cock pulling and pushing against your pussy walls. "Shit- you feel really fucking good around me."

You moaned at his words, feeling his hips snap back, pulling his cock almost completely out of you before slamming back in. You were glad you were sitting on the countertop, you weren't sure your legs were working at the moment, curled tightly around Jungkook's body. His hands gripped your thighs, pulling your dress up and out of the way so he could watch your pussy take him, liking the wet noises that came along with how turned on you were.

"So wet, you have a crush on me or something?" He joked, laughing in a dry sort of way. You rolled your eyes and gripped a hand over his bicep, digging your nails into the muscle there underneath his suit jacket.

His thrusts quickened and he released one of your hips to slip his fingers around where your pussy was stretched around his cock, rubbing the folds there, adding stimulation that ripped the air from your body, making your head spin, body beginning to float away to nothingness.

"You're so fucking sexy," You moaned, gazing at him and the look of total concentration on his face as he fucked you into the bathroom countertop. His brow furrowed, sweat dripping down his face, pink tongue sticking out between his lips slightly. There was no way there was another guy on the planet like him- no one was this attractive.

You saw him blush and look up towards you nervously, suddenly shy to make eye contact, "Yeah? Y-you are too."

It was your time to smirk, rolling your body onto his. You felt his fingers latch onto your clit, rubbing incessantly. You clenched your pussy around him and he groaned, keening over and smashing his face into the crook of your neck, breath stuttering. He changed his pace suddenly, rolling his hips onto yours with an even faster speed you didn't know was possible. He was precise, pushing on the sensitive spot in your pussy with his fingers on your clit matching, pulsing, squeezing, tugging sharply.

"Your pussy felt so good cumming around my fingers," He mumbled against your skin, "Wanna feel it around my cock too, can you do that for me?"

"Okay, only because you asked so nicely." You smiled, feeling his hand squeeze your side in response. He bit down on the same spot of your shoulder he did earlier and that was it- you were unraveling around him in an uncontrollable way. You whined out his name over and over, triggering his own release as his hips finally faltered, shoving against yours for the last time. He stilled in you, moaning against your skin in that silvery tone that rang out like a bell in your ears. You felt him empty into the condom that separated yourself from him, feeling oddly angry that he had worn one to begin with.

You had just gotten fucked hard and were already wondering what it would feel like to have him do it again without a condom, what it would feel like to be stuffed with his cum. You squeezed around him unintentionally, getting turned on again at the thought. He winced, feeling oversensitive and pulled out of you slowly. His hands were shaking slightly, pulling off the condom and tying it closed before throwing it away in the trashcan.

You pulled your dress down as you caught your breath, floating back down to earth. Your eyes fell on the clock- you had been gone for 20 minutes.

"I should've been back at the table already," You noted, staring at the clock.

Jungkook tucked himself back into his pants and fixed his appearance, frowning at the mirror, "I should've kept fucking you for longer."

You laughed and ran a hand through your hair, "Maybe I should just go home- it'll be suspicious if we both go back at this point and I've made enough conversation for the night."

Jungkook stood in front of you, looking too happy but otherwise rid of all evidence of being freshly fucked, "Give me your number at least, I want to see you again."

You pursed your lips and debated it for a moment, staring at the hopeful look on his face. Normally, you'd say no. But something about him...

"Fine," You said nonchalantly. "But don't expect anymore exceptions from me. I'm hard work."

"I'm okay with that," He grinned, pulling his phone out quickly.

You really hoped that he was because he officially impressed you.

#jungkook fic #jungkook x you #jungkook oneshot #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook smut #bts smut #bts one shot #bts fanfction

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years ago

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an artist’s eye // Benedict Bridgerton

Summary: Benedict Bridgerton was an artist, even if his inspiration had no idea of what he feels.

A/N: I promise to slow down with the fics! I go back to work in a couple of days anyway so I’ll definitely slow down. I hope you all like! It’s shorter than my last few fics so I’m sorry for that!! My taglist is open so if you’d like to be on it, let me know and I am considering opening my requests for Bridgerton fics... considering.

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of food and drink, pining, mutual pining, sketching, art, drawing (I am not an artist, I cannot draw a stick man so I apologise in advance), kissing.

Word count: 1.8k

The graphite point sits heavy in his hand as Benedict struggles to remember the lines he needs. With only his memory to aid him, Benedict struggled more with the portraits he preferred to draw than the landscapes that were growing increasingly popular among the highest of London society.

Sighing, Benedict presses his fingers to his eyes as if it will help jumpstart his memory to bring forward the correct image he needs. He regrets the action as quick as he had done it when he thinks of the mixture of graphite and charcoal coating his fingers.

Rubbing his face with the sleeve of his shirt, he feels a moment of pity for the servants who would no doubt grumble and complain at the state of it. However, as he glances down at the sketch – the arch of his subject’s smile, the depths of their eyes – he cannot bring himself to care too much.

It wouldn’t see the light of day. Once complete, the sketchbook would be tucked away in the drawer in his desk. If it was to fall into the wrong hands, then as much as he is confident of his artistic talent, he would not recover from the fallout. Benedict worries for the day that the look in your eyes changes; once you realise the extent of his feelings for you.

He hadn’t meant to fall in love with you, but he had. There were a lot of things in Benedict’s life that he hadn’t meant to do and has regretted completing such an action once done. However, he cannot find it in himself to feel bad about falling in love with you even when he had not meant to.

As much as he puts on airs and graces, he would not approach you with his feelings. He wasn’t ready though you made his heart sing like no other.

One day, he tells himself as he finally remembers the swoop of your neckline. One day he will tell you as he picks up his graphite point and charcoal once more.

Not yet, however.

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The drawing room remains quiet as Benedict silently adds to his sketch collection. His mother sits across the room, content with a stitching pattern for the arrival of Daphne’s new baby. Eloise lounges on the couch, a book in her hand and a box of chocolates on her stomach, eyes pouring over the pages hungrily.

The only sound in the room is the roughness of his pencil on the paper. It didn’t matter what angle he approached this drawing at, he could not get it to look right. It was going to vex him until he had bested it.

“Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) has arrived,” The Butler announces to which Benedict suddenly sits up straighter, closing his sketchbook, leaving it on the table.

“Wonderful,” Violet Bridgerton smiles, “Show them up, please.”

“I didn’t know (Y/N) was calling today,” Benedict comments lightly as the Butler disappears from the room, trying to sound as if his heart isn’t currently pounding in his chest.

“(Y/N) always calls on a Thursday,” Eloise states, voice puzzled. She shares a look of confusion with her mother when Benedict suddenly stands, announcing to them both, “I shall clean myself up a bit, make myself look presentable for our guest.”

The look of confusion soon turns into one of understanding as both women watch their son and brother dash from the room. As if at the same time, a smile crosses both their faces when they realise that their beloved son and brother has fallen in love and with a dear friend of the family too.

They do not get to discuss the topic, however, for you are shown to the drawing room, greeting both women with a large smile and buoyant conversation.

“Help yourself to tea and biscuits, dear,” Violet invites, gesturing to the tea service now being laid on the table. Your stomach rumbles at the sight of the biscuits, unable to turn down the buttery goodness.

“Thank you,” You reply, taking a seat at the table, reaching for a biscuit and the teapot.

It’s then that you see it. A leatherbound book left on the other side of the table, barely hidden by the cake stand of treats.

Curiosity being your besetting sin, you reach for the leatherbound book on the table and begin to flick through the pages. A sketch of a pair of hands at the beginning; they hold a single flower – a rose, though what colour is impossible to tell since the sketch remains firmly in shades of greys and blacks. Enraptured, you turn the page to find a detailed image of a parasol, still sketched in the same greys and blacks as the previous picture. The artist has captured the lace trimming perfectly. The longer you stare at it, you come to realise that the parasol is being held by someone, but it isn’t clear who.

It isn’t until you reach a sketch of your side portrait that you come to realise that the previous sketches – the hands, the parasol with just a hint of a shadow under it – they’re of you.

They’re all of you. Each stunning sketch is of you.

Your breath quickens in your chest when you see who the sketchbook belongs to; when you spy the initials written on the inside sleeve of the front cover. ‘B.B.’ written in his elegant script – an artist in every aspect of his life. Whilst you had observed that Benedict sometimes appeared with smudges to his fingers and paint stains on the cuffs of his tailored white shirt, you had never seen a sketch or a painting until now. He truly had a gift; a talent worthy of being displayed in Somerset House.

You hadn’t been aware of his feelings for you though, but you would not be the first to admit that you found yourself attracted to the Bridgerton. Taught at a young age, you knew it was not wise to share such feelings with others. Instead, you dampened them down, hiding them away where they grew unattended – they rooted in your heart, making it very difficult to find another love worthy.

Bringing a hand to your mouth, you hide your smile, not wanting to give too much away to ever observant Bridgerton matriarch. You turn page after page, letting yourself fall deeper into your feelings for Benedict now that you find there is hope of them being requited.

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Benedict’s breath leaves his body in one fell swoop when he returns to the drawing room and he realises exactly what you hold in your hand. He hadn’t moved it upon your announcement; he thought he had, but instead, like a fool, he left it sitting there on the table.

A fool. He was a fool. How quick, Benedict thinks to himself, how quick a life can change – mere minutes he had been gone and now he was to have his love for you outed.

You haven’t noticed his presence yet, and for that Benedict is thankful. It gives him time to come up with something – anything – to explain the numerous sketches of you. His mind is running too fast; he cannot come up with a thought good enough to excuse the sketches in his book. His heart continues to pound in his chest; it had not slowed down since your announcement though at this point it reminds him that is, indeed, alive and not suffering from a night terror.

As if finally sensing the extra person in the room, you glance up. Your eyes meeting the deep blue of Benedict’s, and you freeze in your spot. Violet and Eloise glance between the two of you. Violet, not one to usually ignore tradition, hurries her daughter from the room – knowing the conversation that was about to take place.

“I’m sorry,” You whisper at the click of the door shutting. You close the sketchbook, placing it on the table as far away from you as possible to keep your temptation at bay.

“I think I should be the one apologising,” Benedict confesses, taking one more step into the room. He tucks his hands behind his back, ever the picture of grace and elegance as he thinks of how long he has left without before your opinion of him changes forever – artistic talent or not.

“I knew you were an artist; I had seen the smudges on your hands, but I didn’t think…”

“What?”

“I didn’t think you were drawing me.”

“Surely you know?” He asks, voice loud in the quiet room. When you remain silent, he continues, “Surely you know of my feelings for you?”

You shake your head, eyes glancing between the taller Bridgerton and the leatherbound sketchbook lying on the table. “I didn’t know,” You whisper, voice breaking as you take in the distraught look on his face.

“Well,” Benedict murmurs, clearing his throat, “You know of them now.”

“I do,” You murmur,

“I hope I haven’t offended you,” Benedict remarks, “Those sketches were not meant to be seen by anyone else.”

“Only if I haven’t offended you by looking through them.”

Benedict shakes his head, “You could never offend me.”

“Then I am not offended either. I’m quite flattered, you’re very talented.”

“Thank you,” Benedict says graciously, nodding his head slightly.

“You need to know that your feelings are returned, Benedict,” You declare suddenly and plainly, displaying your feelings for all to see.

“They are?” Benedict asks, voice awed as if he didn’t take into account this reaction.

“They are,” You state firmly, meeting his gaze proudly as if you could ever be ashamed of your feelings for the brunette.

Benedict stalks across the room; tradition and etiquette be damned as he reaches for your hand to pull you from your chair. His hands settle on your waist as you tilt your head back to look at him. A silent question reflects in his eyes to which you answer with a nod of your head.

His hands move from your waist to cradle your face as he dips down, pressing his lips to yours. It isn’t hurried; it’s perfect as Benedict takes control of the kiss, groaning softly at the feel of your mouth and your body pressed against him. You smile into the kiss as your arms wrap around Benedict’s neck, pulling him ever closer to you.

Benedict’s mouth brushes against yours as he asks, “Would you like to accompany me to Lady Danbury’s ball next week?”

“As in you would court me?”

Benedict chuckles softly, “Yes. I would like to court you, is that okay?”

“More than okay,” You smile before pressing a kiss to the corner of Benedict’s mouth and stepping away.

Turning back to the sketchbook, you open it to image that had kickstarted your heart into an irregular rhythm. Benedict stands by your side as your eyes pour over his sketch; each line and angle, each section of shading. “You truly have an artist’s eye,” You say quietly, tangling your hands together.

“Thank you,” Benedict whispers, bringing your entwined hands up to his mouth whereupon he lays a gentle kiss to the back of your gloved hand.

“Will you show me more?” You ask, turning to face the man that had turned you into a work of art.

“Darling, I’ll show you them all.”

***********

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @aspiringsloth20 @wallwriterstuff @magicalxdaydream

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagines #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton imagines

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fuckyeahharryhart · 4 years ago

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THE ART OF SEDUCTION Reader Insert

After working months at his side, whether it be in the field, during training, debriefing in his office, or simply occupying the same space in quieter moments- reading in the lounge with a cup of tea, enjoying a few precious moments of peace, you were no closer at deciphering the gorgeous mystery that was Harry Hart. Your time with him merely reinforced what you already knew. And what you knew had, much to your chagrin, become increasingly and disconcertingly distracting with every moment you shared space with him. Harry was beautiful, obviously. You determined that the moment you saw him. Even from a distance, he cut a striking figure. But it was the understated way he acknowledged his own appearance, knew that it was pleasing and accepted it with grace, dignity and a matter-of-factness, that only made him more attractive.

Harry Hart’s appeal wasn’t just based on his good looks. There were other men who had more classically balanced features. It was significantly more than good genes or the symmetry of bone structure. Not that his purely physical attributes were lacking in any regard. You had already committed to memory every aspect of his form and figure, from his hair, with a distinguished flurry of silver, all the way down to his feet in their gleaming oxfords. No doubt polished with every wearing; they carried him with purposeful movement and long measured strides.

Harry Hart was a tall man. Often folding his legs as gracefully as possible under tables and desks that were just a breath too short to accommodate a man of his stature. He carried himself differently. Always with a posture, walk, a gait, that had a purpose. Never rushed unnecessarily, he possessed the ease of someone in full control of his physical body. His movements were light, sharp, and kinetic. When he was still, he held himself straight and tall, without strain. In more casual moments, his weight would shift to one side or the other, or he might lean against a support, breaking up the long, precise lines of his full height.

Mostly, this had to do with a hyper awareness of his environment and his place in it. If Harry needed to calm a new recruit, he might stand with authority, but tuck his hands in his pockets, conveying a sense of ease and familiarity. When confronting an adversary, his stature seemed to grow as he pulled himself to his full height. In those rare moments where he was free from personal and professional obligations responsibilities, as much as he could ever be, his figure would take on smooth curves and relaxed angles. The space he occupied was his to claim, mould, and manipulate. And Harry Hart did so with his body, his voice, his gaze, his way of dress.

Surprisingly, you discovered that Harry was a man who often communicated through physical touch. As a man of few words, who often guarded his privacy and personal life, you expected him to be even more reserved with his body language, to be even more wary of close physical contact. Quite the contrary, he was often more generous with a hand on the shoulder or a gentle pat on the back as a form of approval or encouragement. Sometimes, he would place his hand over yours as gesture of support and understanding. Harry was more demonstrative with contact and touch than he was with using words of praise or comfort. Even his proximity, whether it be as a figure in the distance or his physical closeness, could affect the energy of the room.

Rolling it over in your mind, you realised that it made sense that Harry would be comfortable communicating through touch. In some regards, he was a very tactile man, a sensual man, if not overtly so. He was a man that celebrated the senses.

In his office, though minimalist by Kingsman standards, austere even, there were touches of extravagance not influenced by tradition. All the furniture, as well as being beautifully made, focused on designs that were hospitable as well as functional. The chairs were comfortable. The lounge was upholstered in a dark, rich leather, well oiled and worn smooth by years of use. It was masculine, but also soft and inviting, a piece that you could relax and sink into. A sumptuous throw. Pillows covered in dark velvet that were actually soft, not just decorative.

The items that did adorn his office were obviously selected thoughtfully and with care. The enticingly smooth curves of a vase, seemingly out of place, brilliant jade against the subdued tones of hunter green, tartans and plaid and the deep tones of polished wood and leather. The delicate lines and breathtaking color of a framed butterfly. A small, sterling silver paperweight in the shape of a terrier. A cut crystal decanter, with matching tumblers, no doubt holding an insanely old and very expensive scotch.

There was an emphasis, not on the prestige or price of an object, but on its, color, texture, lines that were pleasing or challenging to the eye. Not as a flaunting of wealth, but a source of pleasure. It wasn’t an ostentatious display of the rich, it was the luxury of selection and taste. Any piece of clothing or fabric that touched his body directly was often luxurious, as well, scarfs, gloves, fine cashmere or calfskin leather. Though you had no way of knowing, you assumed his sheets would be of the highest thread count.

Harry’s manner of dress was immaculate and as precise as the polished, clipped tones of his aristocratic accent. He presented himself as a man who was self-assured with his appearance. Whatever he wore, he wore with confidence. He wore it well, without vanity, pretension, ego or conceit. Not that he needed the help of his wardrobe to face the world. His manner of dress seemed to highlight, magnify his innate sense of self. He was not a flashy man, but he appreciated the expert craftsmanship that went into a finely cut suit. That good clean lines, quality materials, understated but interesting details could be the final polish on an already finely honed presentation.

His clothing was the other area where he allowed himself some extravagance. A firm believer in the principle that if one’s self and surroundings are not only presentable, but impeccable, then one will always be prepared for what surprises life may decide to throw in one’s direction. In his line of work, unpredictability was as predictable as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west. His wardrobe countered the erratic nature of life as an agent. Thus, his was a look of man who had his life in order.

Harry Hart was a man of consistency. His tie was an unfailing full Windsor, tucked under the spread collar of a pristine white shirt. An equally crisp pocket square, folded neatly, peeked from his breast pocket. French cuffs were secured with custom gold links, bearing the Kingsman insignia. His suits were mostly double breasted, in classic shades of black, charcoal, navy and grey and cut in a wool that was appropriate for the occasion, whether solid, pinstriped, or woven with a pattern such as herringbone, or houndstooth. After years as a Kingsman agent, he had amassed a considerable and varied wardrobe that consisted of classic suits, formal wear, overcoats, ties, scarves, for any occasion or any type of mission. Each Kingsman agent also wore a gold signet ring on the pinky of their dominant hand. Harry wore the ring on his right.

Kingsman suits were cut close to the body, but designed with allowances made to accommodate weapons, ensure maneuvrability and flexibility in all types of action. They were also bulletproof. It was a feature created after decades of experimenting with different textiles and weaves and exploring processes and techniques that would result in a material that could withstand the velocity and impact of of a bullet shot at close range. The lightweight, flexible lining was sewn into every Kingsman suit and many times proved to be a lifesaver.

Shoulder harnesses were used for carrying. Not belt clips. Belts constricted the body whereas a harness allowed freedom of movement. They were also easily and quickly detachable in case they needed to be removed. Belts, on the other hand, though they had their uses, could also cost valuable seconds when needed to be taken off. The carry position prevented printing and maintained the lines of Kingsman’s suits.

The fine, bespoke tailoring emphasized Harry’s height and build. Trousers were slim cut, long and hemmed with a perfect mid break. He preferred the simple Oxford rather than brogues. He styled his hair in a classic, handsome cut, and was always clean shaven, (unless in the field where there was no opportunity for a straight razor shave). His aftershave and cologne were unobtrusive but memorable. Rather than preceding him, the warm and masculine sent of woods and spices, with hints of cardamon, bergamot, the tactile sensuality of rich leather and suede, would linger after his departure, like a layer of warm dark velvet. Even his hands were beautiful. Beautiful but not delicate. Large wide palms, long elegant fingers, his nails were neat and clipped. They sometimes bore the marks of time spent in the field. They were strong and capable.

Overall, Harry Hart had the appearance of a man who embraced classics, honoured tradition, but defined his look with his own individual aesthetic personality and sense of style.

In quieter moments, when you had the opportunity to watch him without being too obvious or call attention to yourself, you allowed your curiosity to wonder over all the small details and mannerism that were unique to Harry. How his fingertips would gently find the arm of his glasses and rest lightly there, when he was thoughtful or pondering a question, as if it helped him focus or think. The automatic gesture probably developed after years of transmitting information through the eyeglasses, which also functioned as communication devices. Through your experience in human psychology, you recognised this as a self soothing gesture. Finding the comfort of something familiar. You were fairly sure that Harry was aware of this gesture and allowed himself some habits, that were, not particularly productive but, helpful nonetheless. Rubbing his thumb along the band of his signet ring. The way he would always shoot his cuffs when rising from his seat. Or run the palm of his hand along the back of his head, smoothing down the already polished hair.

Never had you met someone who had the ability to asses and evaluate any given situation as throughly and unerringly as Harry. Whether it entailed clearing a room, identifying a mark, or even just something as simple as slowing his pace when you walked along side him so you wouldn’t have to struggle to keep up. He was constantly aware of his surroundings and deconstructing what needed to happen to make the environment more pleasing, the conversation more engaging, the meeting more productive, the mission more likely to succeed. He was nothing if not thoughtful. Thus, when you walked with him, he always slowed and allowed you to maintain your own graceful stride.

His physical appearance, his exacting nature, his precise moments, his carefully maintained wardrobe, his formal patterns of speech, his refined accent, not to mention his good looks could intimidate even the most confident agent, let alone a green one. That was until the person in question realised that this outward perfection was merely the layer that he presented to the world.

It would seem impossible for man to be blessed with so many gifts, but Harry Hart proved to be the exception to the rule, for he was as charming and gracious as he was handsome. His quick wit, his clever way with words, as well as his dry, incisive sense of humor could enthrall even the most unwilling participant.

He could placate the most difficult handler, assuage the most reluctant agent, enchant the most reserved target, or ingratiate himself into the most inhospitable of circumstances. When Harry turned on the full force of his charm, the people he met, let alone the men and women who worked with him, frequently found themselves elevated in his presence, their own experience heightened by his vitality and charisma. They left the experience a little breathless, a little awestruck, a little seduced by Harry Hart. You were no exception. And you had been spending a lot of time with him.

————

You found yourselves alone one evening at the manor. In the lounge, when you both happened to desire a drink at the same time. Most of the Kingsman had already departed for the shop if they were returning to the city. The rest had dispersed to their own private quarters, or were participating in whatever activity they had planned for the evening. The lounge was quiet. They way he liked it. Apparently, it was the way you preferred it as well.

Harry spotted you the same moment you lifted your gaze at the new arrival. Your eyes narrowed slightly in pleasure at the sight of him. You gave him a small, but welcoming smile. The musical clink of crystal against glass as he poured a scotch from the fully stocked bar was the only sound aside from the cracking logs in the grand fireplace.

The club was a vast space with a vaulted ceiling. The stately fireplace stood on the far wall. Like most of the manor, it was dressed in masculine shades of dark brown and hunter greens, tartan and plaids. Polished hardwood furniture, mostly antique, and historical paintings, displaying the rich history of Kingsman, whispered class and wealth. In the center was an arrangement to accommodate a more substantial group with larger sofas and chaises surrounding a massive polished low wooden table.

Around the room were smaller clusters of tables and leather club chairs tucked into alcoves for smaller gatherings or intimate conversations.

It was at one these clusters that he found you, tucked in a quiet corner near the fireplace.

In the most relaxed arrangement Harry allowed himself while still on Kingsman property, he had his coat draped over his arm. Dressed in his shirtsleeves, tie and shoulder holster, tumbler in hand, he approached you, also with a pleasant but small smile. Pleased that you were the one that was sharing this space with him.

You were dressed quite differently from how Harry first remembered you. Well, your clothes hadn’t been memorable, but you had been. Since you were not a knighted agent, they weren’t quite sure how to classify you yet, you took the freedom to dress beyond the Kingsman uniform. Though always appropriate and surprisingly on brand, you were not quite regulation. If you were out in the field, you were in tactical, or the women’s version of the kingsman suits. You even had the shop tailor some custom pieces so you could have more diversity. When you were at Kingsman HQ or at the shop in support, you dressed appropriately, but in your own style. There were handfuls of fashionable men at Kingsman. You couldn’t turn around and not run into a gentleman turned out in Kingsman’s finest. But an attractive, stylish woman was a rarer sight. Even Harry noticed the heads that turned when you walked by.

Walking toward you, Harry took the time to observe your appearance, he told himself as spies always did out of habit. Today, you remained on the property. Without the need for being in the field, this would be your most proper look. You were dressed in a way that was very elegant, but sexy at the same time. Or, perhaps it wasn’t supposed to look sexy. Harry set that observation aside. Not the time nor the place, he thought to himself.

You were dressed in a slim, knee length pencil skirt in a very deep shade of oxblood red. It was velvet he noted when he saw the sheen of the fabric as you shifted your knees in his direction. A matching tailored jacket, that, like him, you had removed and draped over the back of your chair. Topped with a delicate, almost sheer silk blouse the color of sun bleached bone. It had tiny pearl buttons down the front, and lace detailing at the collar, cuffs and similar detailing along the button placket. A narrow dark brown leather belt circled your waist with a gold clasp rather than a prong buckle. Dark brown suede court shoes with a tall, but reasonable heel. Your makeup was minimal and natural. You looked like you had just somehow heightened your features, but in no discernible way he could describe.

As Harry got closer, he was able to notice even smaller details. Your beautiful hair, was twisted up and away from your face and secured in some secret way women have where it would stay perfectly in place by means he could never quite see. Your accessories were feminine and understated. Small gold earrings in the shape of teardrops, a simple gold cuff around your wrist, a Kingsman issue watch on the other. A signet ring on your own pinkie. Your nails were trimmed short and clean, either no polish or something bare. A thin gold chain around your neck with a small solid gold version of the Kingsman pendant.

Harry didn’t know what he wanted a woman to look like until he first saw you. The first time, on that first chaotic night, he had the same thought. He could give you a basic description of what you were wearing, but he could describe every feature of your face. The way you looked when you were reflective. The line of your jaw when you were determined.

And then, for the very first time he saw you, dressed, properly, walking down the long marble corridor of the HQ manor, when you had the opportunity to present yourself on your own terms. Harry thought, this is what I want a woman to look like. It wasn’t that you were model beautiful, or that your features were perfect. In London, on the streets, you could see plenty of models. They were beautiful, no doubt, and pleasing to look at, but once you were done, you were able to go about your day without a second thought.

Your beauty had substance. The fact that Harry knew what your skill set included, to know what you had overcome to be where you were, to be the person you were, made your beauty a real tangible thing, regardless of what you were wearing. Perhaps it was that, whatever you wore, you made it part of you. It wasn’t just a pretty skirt or a flattering blouse, it was the way you wore it that made him notice you. You could have looked completely different, with completely opposite features. Harry would have still have felt the same. And he would still say, this is what I want a woman to look like.

You posessed the capacity to stir his heart. Something that had been quiet and still for a very long time. Even something that Harry thought no longer had the desire to be moved. It was certainly not something he was seeking. He, long ago, had accepted the fact that the life of agent isn’t one that fosters lasting relationships. Relationships were based on communication and he had far too many secrets as a Kingsman.

Harry was beyond the time in his life for these kinds of thoughts. He knew he had been handsome in his youth. He had his fair share of relationships and much more than his fair share of sexual encounters. He was aware that his looks had carried him quite well as he got older and that if he wanted, there were women, very desirable ones, that would be more than willing to engage in a casual relationship. Harry was by no means vanilla. It wasn’t that he was prudish in the least, or one to deny himself physical pleasure. If you were not exactly who you were, then he would have most likely allowed himself to pursue you and enjoyed whatever that relationship had to offer. The crux of it was, that he would not be as attracted to you, or charmed by you if you weren’t exactly who you were. He would not want your as much as he did if you were any different.

——

Harry set these thoughts aside as he approached you. Even though it was obvious you were alone, Kingsman manners never failed. Never ask a lady directly if she’d like your company. Give her a polite way to refuse without making her say no. She will indicate if your presence if desired.

“Excuse me, miss.” he opened. “Is this seat taken?”

You awarded him with an amused smile. You always enjoyed his little game of manners.

You nodded toward the chair. Please.

Draping his coat on the back of his chair, just as you did, He adjusted his slacks so he could sit down comfortably and gracefully. The club chairs were low and designed to sink back into. Harry took his seat, adjusted a little until he, too, was settled in.

Since both of you were now relatively stuck in your respective positions, where you couldn’t move without significant effort, Harry simply raised his glass in your direction. You followed suit.

You were pleased when he was comfortable enough to sit in silence with you. It was one of the first tells you would look for in asset or mark. Did they have enough self assurance to be silent? Were they uncomfortable, awkward, fidgety? Did they try to fill the silence? Most often, if they lacked confidence, you would notice these tells immediately. One of your favourite activities was to sit in silence.

It was also one of your favourite activities to look at Harry Hart. The fact that he was handsome was no surprise. When you initially started at Kingsman, this was simply an objective observation, like masterful way he handled weaponry. Or the fact that he was right handed. The more you were partnered in the field, the closer you became, both in proximity and as colleagues, his physical attributes began to affect you in ways that continued to make you increasingly uncomfortable.

You were aware his body was that of a man that you admired and looked up to. Tall, broad shouldered, slim hipped. Strong, driven, powerful. You became aware of all the things that his body could do. You had the opportunity to observe him every time you were in the field, in combat, in action.

But you also began to discern a softness, a gentleness that he could convey when he gathered you up after a surprising blast had knocked you off your feet. Hands that smoothed back your hair from your forehead upon waking up in medical after a particularly dangerous mission. A warm hand on your shoulder as you successfully accomplished a challenging task.

You were aware that as your mentor, Harry had a responsibility to maintain a professional relationship. But with escalating frequency, you imagined how it would feel to have him pressed up against you, to feel his body, purposeful and confident.

————

The evening was relaxed. Both of you, without the urgency of an upcoming mission to prepare, took the opportunity to simply rest and unwind. A seldom occasion. Feeling more and more at ease when both of you were together, you allowed yourself a little space to test the waters. When engaging targets, if they seemed comfortable sitting in silence in your company, would they make direct eye contact? You took another small sip of your drink, savoured it for a moment, and swallowed.

Hmmm. You were very curious about HarryHart and you were feeling surprisingly playful. You wanted to try something. Let’s say an experiment in tradecraft. You waited until you caught his eye. Harry seemed amused and matched your eye contact with equal directness. You were pleased that he made eye contact and even more pleased when he maintained it. But he was a spy, after all. Making and maintaining eye contact would be elementary for him.

With a little cheekiness on your part, you raised your glass to your lips again and took a small sip. He did not waver. His eyes even took on a little bit of curious amusement. You held the scotch on your tongue, pulled it to the back of your mouth, rolled the scotch around a little bit longer than necessary, before you swallowed.

Neither of you would look away first. You gave him a half smile, half smirk, crinkled your eyes a bit in amusement. You seemed to be saying. Ok. Your turn.

Harry had never seen your in this kind of playful mood and he suddenly found himself enjoying this little match immensely.

He could more than participate in this game. He, literally, had decades more experience than you. An agent may be able to seduce. But a gentleman agent was a master at the art of seduction. And Harry Hart was the consummate gentleman agent. One did not get to where he was in life without knowing how to pleasure a woman. He was often told he had beautiful and talented hands. That may have been years ago, but those kinds of skills, they stayed with a man.

A quick raise of his brow. Darling, challenge accepted.

Holding your eyes with his, he lowered his glass just enough to where it was in your sight line, but slightly off to the side, at the edge of your peripheral vision. You would still be able to hold eye contact, but would have to make an effort not to glance down at his glass. Especially, when you saw what he was going to do with it.

Harry held your gaze suddenly with an intense focus you were unprepared for. Out of the corner of your eye you saw that he was holding his glass, cupping it in the palm of one hand. He began to simply roll it around gently, as one would while enjoying a proper scotch. He rolled it around harmlessly, in a slow, lazy, rhythmic pattern.

You had to concentrate a little harder not to look away, but you kept his gaze. If you were uncomfortable, you didn’t show it. You hoped your gaze held a similar intensity as Harry’s. His felt, well, piercing, for lack of a more appropriate word.

This was certainly turning out to be an interesting evening, Harry thought. You seemed determined to stick this through. He would be required to dial his technique up a notch. He nested the heavy base in the center of his palm and let it rest there for awhile without moving. Then, once again, he started rolling the glass in his hand, not to stir the liquid, but to feel the surface of glass itself. He bounced the glass, lightly, as if testing the weight and feeling the heaviness.

The movement was subtle, slow, and sensuous. He let his hand explore the texture of the smooth surface. The base of his thumb pressed against the glass in slow, languid circles, sometimes rolling on to the pad of his thumb, sometimes to his finger tip. But he did this as if he were doing it unconsciously, because he was staring at you with a focus and intensity that said you were the only woman on earth, and that he wanted you.

There was truth to the term, the male gaze. It was not looking at something through a man’s eyes, it was seeing into something as a man. There was a reason why they called this particular look penetrating. It was a gaze of desire, a singularly male want and need. If done properly, it was a way to make love to a woman without touching her. It was far beyond physical contact. It wasn’t hard for him to harness his essential masculine energy. Harry had done it for years on countless honey traps in his younger days with the agency. He hadn’t thrown the full force of himself to seduce in quite awhile and found that he was enjoying a little flex of his muscle. If desire had a name, at that moment, it would be called Harry Hart. He let his desire roll off of him in waves.

What you didn’t quite understand, was that the game you were playing with him, wasn’t about who could keep eye contact the longest. It was a question of who was going to be seduced and who was going to be the seducer. You were approaching what you thought was a staring contest as a battle of the wills, which was why you were going to fail. Making eye contact may be a test of power and confidence, but that was a quick, brief test. A simple meeting or a darting of the eyes. It was very easy to find out who was going to be able to make and hold contact. However, eye contact for a prolonged period of time, especially between a man and a woman? It became something quite different. It was a game of seduction. It wasn’t a test of power. It was a test of control. Control of two things in this case, the seducer’s own desire, and the desire of the other person. Could the seducer harness his own desire to control the seduced.

You had not faltered yet. He raised to single brow. Would you like me to keep going?

You narrowed your gaze. Please, do.

The expression on his face all but said out loud. “You asked for it.”

Harry saw the flush in your cheeks when you noticed what he was doing with his glass. Your breathing intensified. Your pupils dilated and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

They were very small movements, but very deliberate movements. He cupped the bottom of the glass in one palm, fingers spread as if he were holding up a small tray. Using only his middle finger, the rest of his hand now cupping the base, he began to stroke the center of the glass. Like he was using his finger to say, come here. In very slow, very deliberate, beyond suggestive movements. His other hand simply rested on the top rim of the glass. Gently holding it in place while he moved his bottom hand. He did this without twitching another muscle in his body, as if nothing had changed.

Your eyes widened. Holy fuck, you thought. With very exact and explicit movements of his hands, Harry was not just implying, but overtly demonstrating how he used them to give pleasure to a woman. The shock of seeing him within the frame of something so blatantly sexual, all the while looking at you the entire time? It was intensely arousing.

Harry was not only looking at you, he was positively devouring you with his gaze. You could feel him, his energy in pulses of heat. This wasn’t merely eye contact. This was something unexpected and you were not prepared for it. Harry was suddenly changed, maybe not changed, but different. He was harder, stronger, more demanding. He was more of everything. The polite, honorable, considerate gentleman was still there, but now he added an aspect of himself that you had never seen or experienced before. The man was still Harry Hart, but it was also as if a part of him had been unleashed, whatever primal energy that was held in check by the handsome suits and the manners and the chivalry, had been released.

You fought to maintain your composure. He knew exactly what he was doing. His hands moved expertly, and with ease. His gaze, became even more intense, if that was even possible.

Harry continued to play and to tease as he held the glass in his palm. You knew where he had his hand. You could feel the exact placement as if it were on your own body. The base of his palm would cup your center, with the rest of his fingers spreading between your legs. His middle finger was still moving in achingly slow circles, one direction, then slowly moving in the other direction. He curled his finger under, using his knuckle, rolling it in tiny circles. Not even really moving just shifting the pressure moving from one side to the other, from top to bottom.

You saw in his eyes, that he knew, that you were not only being affected by his movements, but you were feeling sensations as if he were touching you directly.

It was the most erotic experience of your life.

Here was this beautiful man, still dressed as properly as ever in his dress shirt and tie, his shoulder holster with his side arm. His perfect hair, his perfect face. With all his dignity and respect, relaxing comfortably back into his chair, his legs spread wide, an ankle crossed over his knee, one elbow resting casually on the arm of his leather chair. Radiating such a profound sexual energy, that without even touching you, had the ability to control your body with only his eyes and the the way he moved a glass in his hand. He was so confident in his movements. His expression said, however brief this moment, that he owned you, that you were his, and he knows that you wants it that way. He can see it all over your face. He can see it in your eyes.

——

Harry wasn’t even close to being done.

He took his other hand, laying his palm over the glass, as if it was resting there. On the other side of the glass, where his thumb fell, he began to roll it around in very explicit, very familiar circles.

He felt himself harden as his own arousal grew. He didn’t try to stop it. Instead of letting it distract him, he channeled that energy through him and into you. Allowing you to witness the physical evidence of his own desire would strengthen his hold. Never underestimate the power of the imagination. You would see it. Your mind would do the rest.

Harry saw your lips part, even the slightest bit. Your chest rising and falling under your ladylike blouse as your breath quickened. Your knees pressed tightly together. He watched your face very, very carefully and intently, watching the subtle changes in your expressions as he shifted the movements of his hands, knowing that you were feeling his movements in your body. Every time your brow would furrow, or you took a sharp intake of breath, or would clench your pretty hands, as he moved his own, he knew you were feeling pleasure. And that he was the source of that pleasure.

Harry knew that there were men who were turned on by violence. For him, however, there was nothing more erotic than the sight of a woman experiencing the pleasure that you were giving her. So, he was especially aroused when he was free to look at the nuances of your face and body freely and openly. Your pleasure had reached a constant as you moved almost imperceptibly to the consistent rhythm of his hand.

And you still did not drop your gaze. Harry knew, now that you were fully aroused, you would not break eye contact. You probably couldn’t at this point if you tried. For, half of your pleasure was a result of seeing the man who was controlling your pleasure. And seeing that you pleased him, that he was also sexually aroused, intensified your pleasure. And you wanted to offer that to him, very willingly. Harry was finding out much about you in these few moments. Things that he wasn’t even sure you knew about yourself. Very few women would have been comfortable enough with their sexuality to be purely on the receiving end of pleasure. In the intimacy of their own bedroom in a committed relationship. Let alone in an extremely public and therefore vulnerable way. With a man who may be, slightly off limits. Which, in fact, probably added to your pleasure.

To see just how much you were under his thumb, pun aside, Harry paused for a moment. He kept his hand, his fingers in the exact same place. He just stilled. And watched you. After a few moments he could see the tiniest furrow of your brow. When he continued to remain still, he saw the movement he waiting for. You probably didn’t even know you had made it. It was the slightest lifting and rolling of your hips. He didn’t realize he could be more turned on, but he felt himself grow harder. It was the motion every woman made, in his experience, when they wanted more, when they were asking for more, and when they were begging for more. The ability to actively listen and comprehend another person was the most profound influencing tactic one could hone in communication, and therefore seduction. Which is exactly what he was doing. In a very non verbal, very physical way.

Harry began his movements again, with more intensity and purpose. He let his finger, for the first time, slide all the way up the side of the glass, even letting it lift with the upward movement of his palm. He saw your body move as if you were receiving him.

He knew you were experiencing waves of intense pleasure. He could tell you wanted to close your eyes and tip your head back. As Harry witnessed your need, he went in for his last movements. His palm pressing up into the base of the glass, his thumb rolling in small firm circles and his entire middle finger along the entire length of the glass, the tip almost reaching the top of the rim. As if his finger were deep inside you, he made deliberate strokes while pressing into the glass, slow, but then gradually increasing in speed and pressure.

Harry knew, that you knew, the exact two parts he was pleasuring.

You lips parted, your breathing grew heavier. You had no idea what was going to happen next, all you felt were waves of pleasure. The only thing you could concentrate on was not losing eye contact with the man in front of you.

Harry knew at this point, he had let what was a silly, flirtatious game, go too far. He also knew this began as a challenge, and Harry Hart was never one to back down from a challenge. He also knew that he never purposely lost a game. If it took climaxing for you to break eye contact, then so be it.

Harry also knew he was mesmerized by the sight of you. He didn’t know if he could stop. But it didn’t matter because he didn’t want to. This moment had to hit the list of the top most erotic experiences of his life. Both fully clothed, siting in separate chairs, more than six feet apart. With only eye contact between you. He didn’t know if he’d experienced something more intensely arousing, knowing that he was the one you were feeling when you made yourself come.

Harry began to see the tell tale tremors, the quickening breath, your lips parting with cries that you desperately wanted to make that you would not let yourself, and still, you were trying to hold on. Psychologically you were making it harder for yourself, denying your own release would only make it that much more physically intense when you had to give in.

It was at that moment, that a door banged within the manor and someone appeared at the large entrance of the club room.

“Harry. That you?”

Damn it. It was Eggsy.

“Just headin’ out.” Eggsy called over. “What’s up? Looks like you two’re having a staring contest. Whose winning?”

“It’s a tie” Harry replied.

Eggsy held up his hand in a quick wave and left.

Harry gave you a quick glance, where you were still trying to maintain eye contact, wait no, you were just staring into the space behind him, concentrating on something he could not see.

——

You knew you had to stop staring at Harry, so you looked past his shoulder into the empty space behind him. At this point, even the sight of him might set you off. You were still right at the cusp of your climax and your body was still so aroused you were afraid that any movement could push your over the edge. You wanted to tell Harry to leave, but you couldn’t think of a way without embarrassing or offending one or both of you. All you could do at the moment was sit quietly. So that’s what you did. You were waiting for your body to catch up with the rest of you and settle down. Harry was waiting patiently until you were ready to move or speak.

After a bit of time, you glanced over at him, made sure it was safe. It was, and you began to relax a little, though your body still felt like a flame that was ready to ignite with any hint of friction. You just needed to stay still for awhile.

You saw Harry watching you, his face both concerned and amused.

He broke the silence.

“And that, my darling,” Harry said pointedly. “Is how one create’s an effective honey trap.”

In an attempt to further diffuse the situation, he wanted to be frank and direct with you and not to brush what just happened under the rug. That would be awkward for both of you. He did not want you to feel embarrassed or ashamed or uncomfortable with him or what had happened. The best way was to be as blunt as possible. He pushed down on his palms and rose out of his chair with minimal effort.

“My dear, I’ve been in the spy business for over 30 years. One does not get this far without knowing how to pleasure a woman.”

He winked at you.

“Not to worry, you’ll get there.”

Harry reached behind him for his coat, draped it over his arm, but not before you clearly noticed his own erection. Which before had just been a suggestion in the shadows. He’s hard.

The thought made you flame all over again.

“I need to take my leave. Will you be alright, here?”

All you could do is nod. You didn’t trust your voice yet.

Always the gentleman, he leaned over and brushed his lips against the top of your hair.

“Thank you for the lovely evening.”

You still couldn’t look directly at him so you turned your head slightly to the side and gave him a small nod. With a quick squeeze of your arm, you heard his departing footsteps. He was heading to the tunnels. He was going back into the city, He wouldn’t be staying at he manor. You didn’t know if you were glad or disappointed.

You were grateful to him for providing at least a somewhat graceful way to exit the situation, referring to the seduction technique that ALL agents are trained in. Harry was letting you chalk it up to a learning experience.

You opened your mouth. Nothing came out. You tried again.

“Fuck.”

It was the first word that you had said all evening.

——

“Fuck.”

Harry thought as he boarded the train back into the city. He had actually planned on staying at the manor, but with what just happened with you, he wasn’t sure if that would be the best course of action. It took all of his self control to remove himself from any temptation by leaving the place entirely. Making it impossible for him to act in a way that was inappropriate. Not that what had just happened would qualify as appropriate. At least it had the veil of a lesson on seduction. He wasn’t sure it would convince judges, but he found it a weak, but passable excuse.

No, the problem for the moment was that all Harry could see was your face as he pleasured you. How your lips parted, your breasts underneath your blouse, the flush of your cheeks. He wanted to hear what your cries would’ve sounded like. He wanted to be the one to make you cry out. His sex drive, always healthy, may have had a prolonged dormant period in recent times. But now it was raging like a fire that he unleashed and now he couldn’t put out. By letting the full force of it out this evening, it was fully awake and needed something to do. Harry had feared that if he had stayed at the manor even a moment longer, he wouldn’t have been able to help himself and would’ve taken you and had you right there.

If he could do that to you with his eyes and just the suggestion of his hands, he couldn’t imaging what it would be like pleasuring you with his entire body. Harry knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he took care of himself, and when he did, he would allow himself the sight of your trembling, responsive, body underneath his own as he gave you the pleasure he knew you so desperately wanted, joined together as he felt your body shudder around him when you climaxed, feeling his own release as he heard you cry out his name in pleasure.

#harry hart #harryhart #kingsman #kingsman the golden circle #kingsman the secret service #ardent #kingsman fanfic #colinfirth #colin firth #kingsman fanfiction #kingsmanmovie #kingsman ff #kingsman fan fiction #harryhartfanfiction #harry hart fan fiction

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summonerscenarios · 4 years ago

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Hi Juno! Can I ask for some Ophion headcanons with a very shy reader. Male pronouns if possible, but if not its fine!

Apologies for the late posting! Definitely been a weird couple days lmao - but I’m combing through some of the older requests to give them the spotlight! Thank you so much for being patient and I do hope that these were worth the wait~

------

Boldness is certainly one of the many attributes that Ophion possesses - he’s hardly one to even think about shying away from any kind of situation and encounter, instead deciding to be outgoing and upfront in both his actions and intentions. This, unsurprisingly, translates to all aspects of his life, but nowhere is his forwardness more apparent than when you’re introduced into the equation. You’re shy and reserved, far more so than even Ophion himself had expected; of course he wasn’t as brazen as to assume that you would somehow inherent the spitting personality of his spouse, however even he had not anticipated your personality until his first encounter with you after the initial meeting in the tower.

So perhaps that is why he is so thoroughly entertained to learn that his husband has such a shy demeanor. That first meeting at Roppongi tower, with your friends and allies strengthening the wind in your sails, you’d been shaken but determined - and it had been a delight to see such a sight after so many years of separation. And yet when he had returned, summoned once again by his partner, he found that you retained a rather meek and quiet personality, a quality that Ophion soon found himself enthused by during your interactions with one another.

Of course, upon returning the first thing he’d done was taken you into his arms, holding you tight to his chest and smoothing your hair with bold declarations of how he’d missed having his husband at his side. The action went about as well as one would expect, as you just about choked on your words as you stammered and flushed, trying to wrap your head around the large, ripped dragon who had no qualms with letting his affection be known to you and the world - and anyone within earshot, much to your embarrassment. And this isn’t the only instance either, as Ophion has a penchant for not letting time or place bar him from making up for lost time and expressing to just about everyone within earshot his affections for you. He’s not deterred in the slightest by your shyness, if anything he finds it rather cute that it takes so little to make you blush, and there’s a level of earnesty from your demeanor that you may not notice but he certainly does.

Naturally, he tailors dates to fit something that you may enjoy - whether you’re shy but love spaces where you can interact with others, or if you simply prefer dates with just the two of you, he certainly doesn't mind accommodating to either of those kinds of dates. Ophion hardly shies away from opportunities to show you off to others (whether that’s to make the other Tycoons jealous or for more endearing reasons you’ll have no idea) , though he himself very much prefers the kinds of dates where he can enjoy your company alone. He hopes the opportunities to be alone together will prove to reassure you that there’s no need for formalities or nervousness - in his presence, there’s no concern for errors or worries, the only thing that matters is the time which he spends with you. He can admittedly be overbearing at times, especially when in public which can be an issue for someone who’s more reserved, but he’s perceptive to his partners, and noticeably softens this aspect when it comes to spending time with you, his husband.

Once you begin easing up around him, Ophion’s especially pleased. Even seemingly small gestures like those bashful smiles you give or the snorts of laughter, or even the moments where you confide your frustrations to him. To others these may seem insignificant, but they’re moments that the dragon holds fondly to, as they not only assure him that you’re feeling more comfortable around him, but they’re also moment where he gets to see a more genuine side to you, one that he looks forward to seeing more of in the future.

Enjoys seeing you get flustered, but won’t actively push your boundaries outside of some teasing. With that being said though he is very forward and blunt with his affections when it comes to you, so expect to be on the receiving end of a multitude of romantic gestures because he won’t hesitate to shower you in them. And this guy is smooth too, so you can bet even the tiniest of gestures come off as suave - he’s especially fond of giving you hand kisses, glancing down at you as his does so just to watch your cheeks grow ruddy as you flounder and flush beneath his gaze; your reaction never fails to amuse him, and only prompts him to pepper you with even more kisses, decorating along the back of your hand and your palm as he brings it to finally rest to his cheek.

Whether or not you get used to these little moments of intimacy, you better start mentally preparing yourself because the romantic gestures won’t stop there. Extravagant declarations in the form of words and material gifts, you’ll be receiving both of them in abundance, which gets harder and harder to explain when you’ve got his presents practically spilling out of your dorm room with even more on the way. And this doesn’t even cover all of the places he enjoys taking you out too, often reserving the places as both a show of his ability to provide, as well as to give you the dates to yourselves (I mean, this man brought a part of Tokyo just to show off for valentines day, you’re getting the 5* treatment and nothing less when you’re his boyfriend.)

#Anonymous #housamo #tokyo afterschool summoners #housamo imagine #housamo headcanon #headcanons #imagine #ophion #housamo ophion #roppongi tycoons #housamo tycoons #request #ask

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ddarker-dreams · 5 years ago

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Yandere Chrollo x Reader NSFW Headcanons [COMM]

Chrollo:

Chrollo will always bring with him an element of surprise. His encounters with you bring new possibilities every time, never one to fall into a familiar rhythm with. There are times where he’ll whisk you away to the name of some place you’ve never heard of, or he’ll bring you an exotic gift that’s one of a kind. You always look forward to seeing what he has in store for you.

But he also has a more personal side, where he would rather tailor his gifts more to your specific liking. While surprising you with rare treasures of immeasurable value is always enjoyable, he also wants to show that he pays attention to your likes and interests. Which prompts him to offer you more personalized gifts that he knows you’ll use

One of the times he came to visit you, he prepared what he thought you might find to be a thoughtful gift. Since you use technology often he got you high quality noise canceling earphones, having it wrapped and placed on your shared bed for you to open.

When you find the gift you can’t help but feel excited and curious, wondering what could be inside. Anything from Chrollo would be valued in your eyes, knowing that he took the time to get it for you. He watches with a knowing smile as you unwrap your latest gift, carefully observing your reaction.

As usual you’re ecstatic for the gift he got you, thanking him profusely and giving him a hug. He never would admit it but there’s a warm, foreign feeling in his chest from your gracious words. Chrollo already figures this is how you’d react, but experiencing it is nicer than imagining it.

Wanting to make sure that they fit you well, he prompts you to put them on for him. Chrollo’s guess for your size was correct, the style being one he would like to see you on you. Chrollo compliments your appearance, the sight of you in a gift sating his desire to mark you as his. H

Chrollo loves gifting you accessories or clothes that fit his specific aesthetic, typically neutral colors on the darker side. If your fashion sense is different than that he’ll still occasionally get you something that fits your style more, but he always has a soft spot for you wearing what he picks out.

His appreciation for how it looks on you may appear subtle at first, but he’s someone that has intent behind all of his actions. He’ll start by softly ghosting his hand over your skin, whispering a compliment into your ear from behind you. Goosebumps will line your skin as he does so, before he teasingly walks away like nothing happened. He wants to leave you full of longing, after all.

The rest of the night goes on as it usually does, Chrollo settling down to read on your couch and you enjoying your new headphones. Had you been paying close attention you may have been able to pick up on how Chrollo’s eyes shift to you occasionally, his attention on his book waning as time goes on. Seeing you happily humming away and having fun really did something to him that he couldn’t put his finger on.

It all has a pleasant, domestic feeling to him. While he never thought he’d be the type, he couldn’t help but think that even in quiet moments he enjoys your presence. His thoughts start to venture elsewhere, however, when he notices your sleeves had started slipping down.

You were wearing one of his shirts, one that’s far too large for you. When he inquired about it in the past you bashfully murmured something about liking his scent. But seeing you in it now, your thighs revealed and bare, along with your collarbones... it was growing too tempting to resist any longer. He quietly shuts his book, thinking of what it is exactly he wants to do.

It doesn’t take much for him to sneak up on you normally, being able to conceal his footsteps without any effort. But with your entire ability to hear being deprived it makes it all the easier. Chrollo feigns going to get something elsewhere in your place, so you don’t think much of his disappearance.

When he comes back he sneaks up on you, watching you listen to your music entirely oblivious to his nefarious intent. Chrollo scoops you up with ease, an amused chuckle leaving his lips at the surprise noise you let out from his sudden action. Before you can nudge your earphones off, Chrollo stops your actions with a shake of his head.

Confused but not willing to disobey, you follow with what he’s silently asking of you. He gently places you on your shared bed, drinking in your vulnerable position and flustered mannerisms. He pauses to allow you to settle, chastising you every time you attempt to take off your headphones. He makes it evident that they’re staying own throughout this.

Sensory deprivation was never something you’ve done with Chrollo, you were unaware of his newfound interest in playing around with it. You still accept your fate, shivering at the thought of what Chrollo wants to do with you.

He’s always teasing whenever you’re together, but this takes away a huge element of your control. All you’re capable of hearing is your own rapidly beating heart, your face warming as Chrollo crawls over to you. He gently presses you down, taking your lips in an eager kiss that grows more heated at times goes on.

His hands go to your shirt, fingers working to take it off without wasting anymore time. Once revealing your bare chest, Chrollo massages it with fervor you normally wouldn’t associate with him. All the while looking at you with a knowing smile, watching as you unravel in front of him.

Every aspect of your body has been memorized with a strict attention to detail. All of your preferences and reactions cataloged in his mind, allowing him to reduce you to a moaning state whenever he so desires. This time is no different, as he leans forward to mark the sensitive areas of your exposed skin.

Pulling back momentarily, he watches as you stare at him in confusion. Before activating his Hatsu, his book appearing in hand. There’s already a stolen ability he had in mind for whenever he wanted to do something like this, and he plans on using it to his advantage. You feel your wrists being pulled above your head, the sensation of rope materializing against your skin making you shiver.

“You can’t hear me, but,” Chrollo begins, watching with a pleased gleam in his eye as your arms are bound above your head. “It won’t cause you any harm. Although I doubt this was the intention behind this ability… It’ll still work.”

After taking another moment to drink in your appearance, Chrollo returns to his previous ministrations. Alternating between teasingly running his hands over your thigh, and brushing it over your core. He would comment about how wet you are for him, feeling as if you could tell what he was saying just from his lips.

Eventually he would give into your pleading whines to offer you more friction. He does take a while to soak in your moans of his name, always having enough patient to take his time. But when there are tears in the corner of your eyes he’ll finally give you what you want. If he was feeling crueler he would make you wait even longer, but you were too precious to constantly deny.

It feels strange to not hear anything but your own heavy breathing and heartbeat. At the same time you can focus only on what Chrollo is doing to you, you’re incapable of thinking about anything but him and his touch. What felt uncomfortable at first isn’t all that bad, anxiety melting away into pleasure and lust.

Chrollo always had an appreciation for watching your facial expressions. As embarrassing as it might feel, he’d stop his movements if you ever looked away for too long or closed your eyes. So you have no choice but to return his gaze or never experience release.

It feels so good, but every time you grind against Chrollo’s hands he slows down. Smiling at the whines you let out in response, you know he won’t let you come as fast as you want to. Chrollo’s patience is a blessing and a curse, but in these situations it always feels like a curse. He always slows down when you need him to go faster, taking in your needy actions.

Eventually he removes his shirt, which is always a sight you love to see. It’s impossible to not stare at his defined chest. At least with these earphones on you don’t have to hear his relentless teasing of how much you must like him. As if you need to be reminded.

After rubbing your clit for long enough, Chrollo notices your panties are soaked. He’s pleased to see you’re wearing a pair that he had bought you a while ago, a lacy black pair with floral accents. It’s one of his favorites to see against your skin. But while Chrollo loves how it looks, he’s more interested in what’s underneath.

You can see his member straining against his own boxers, showing proof of what you did to him. He’s able to cover his reactions and control his facial expressions better than you, but from his touches getting rougher you know what he wants. He’s only human after all, he can’t hide all of his desire.

For good measure, Chrollo slowly places his middle and pointer finger into you. Sharply inhaling at the new sensation inside of you, Chrollo eases his fingers in and out of you with ease. Seeing you’re ready enough for him, he removes his digits and expects them with amusement.

You see his lips moving but you don’t know what he’s saying. Eventually he cocks an eyebrow, before holding his fingers in front of your mouth. Holding your gaze he tells you to suck. Finally understanding what he was telling you, you hesitantly open your mouth; face on fire.

Chrollo is always pleased with your eager obedience, and he allows you to clean his fingers. He removes his fingers after a minute or so, a small pleased hum leaving his lips. He removes his boxers before lining himself at your entrance.

He bites his lip while entering you, taking in the sensation of you around him. Chrollo places a firm grip on your waist, and you can’t help but think of the bruises it would most likely leave later. Setting a steady pace, he leans forward to leave more marks against your neck.

Your own release feels so close, and by how Chrollo’s thrusts are getting sloppier you know he is as well. Low grunts leave his lips, eyes glazed over with lust at the sight of you. You look perfect to him like this, vulnerable and entirely submissive to him and his desires. Chrollo wants to give you a reward for being so good for him.

He knows you well, his touches growing more fervent. Slipping his fingers to your clit, he sloppily rubs circles until you throw your head back with a needy whine. Meeting his every thrust with your hips, you finally feel the coil snap within you. Riding out your high, you see Chrollo chasing his own.

Feeling like a complete, tired mess, you look at Chrollo through your eyelashes. He pulls out of you, stroking himself a few more times; before cumming on your bare thigh with a low moan. He takes a moment to compose himself, before removing your restraints and taking your headphones off.

Chrollo can’t help but laugh at your current state, putting a stray strand of hair behind your ear with affection. You instinctively go to cover your chest, blushing, noting the soreness that’s already settling in. Gathering yourself for a moment, you watch as he dresses himself once more.

“So I take it you liked your gift?”

“... Just a bit.”

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glowinggator · 5 years ago

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Insecure! S/O: Donatello

Request: Hi!! Do you mind doing either headcanons or a scenario ( whichever you prefer ) with Donnie x shy / insecure reader ? I really like him, I love he’s a dork and I think we would get along well! But honestly I can see him being happy with so many other self shippers / tmnt Acc here but whenever I picture myself with him I get very upset? Like I feel I’m not smart enough or pretty enough for him and honestly my self esteem has been really down BC of it :( could you do smth about it? Thank you

He may seem confident, but he truly understands your insecurity. The shyness, however, is new to him. He uses a pseudo-confidence to mask his insecurities, so your naturally introverted nature? It’s interesting!

Not to mention, he’s only ever been around extroverted, social people. Have you seen his brothers? He has to be confident if he wants to keep up: snark is absolutely a defense mechanism for him.

He’s a great partner once you confide in him about your insecurities! He isn’t the most gentle turtle in the world, but he’s honest. Blunt, even. Perhaps that honesty is why you appreciate him so much! You know that every single compliment he gives you is honest and from the heart. He won’t ever lie to you to boost your ego. Instead, he’ll genuinely tell you what he likes about you. It’s comforting to know that he means what he says.

He tells you he’s proud of you quite often. Before you, nobody had ever really told him that they were proud of him. You bring so much light to his life; as such, he wants to bring the same amount of joy and love to your life.

He’s always willing to listen to you vent about your insecurities. He isn’t always sure when to jump in, so he just listens for the most part. If it’s just venting, he’ll jump in at the end of your rant to reassure you.

However, if you’re beating yourself up too much, he’ll cut you off. There’s a fine line between venting and self-deprecation, and he’s unnervingly familiar with that line. He’s not gonna let you stew in self-deprecation.

Donatello is very blunt: we all know this. If other people tread too far into topics you’re sensitive about, he won’t hesitate to cut them off, either. He’s scarily good at tailoring insults to people.

At the beginning of your relationship, you may mistake him for being cold. He doesn’t mean to be, he’s just inexperienced. He doesn’t know when to hold you or be gentle. It’s all really new territory to him! It kind of hurts, but if you bring it up with him, he’ll make changes. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so he holds back his emotions a lot. But knowing that you want him to show his feelings? He’s excited!

Likes to send you photos of pretty things that remind him of you! He’ll always attach the caption of “It’s you.” along with it. It’s very sweet. It’s a small action, but a meaningful one.

He will absolutely tell people to shut up if they’re talking over you. He isn’t gonna take that shit. You’re quiet, but that doesn’t mean your words aren’t important!

He’s a strong believer in all forms of intelligence. He’s very cocky about his own intelligence, but that doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate other forms! If you’re not a STEM person, that’s okay! He still recognizes your talent and brilliance in other subjects, and he won’t hesitate to remind you of it. You’re brilliant in your own way, even if you can’t see it yourself.

He thinks your shyness is kind of cute! He knows it makes your life difficult sometimes, but he can’t help but fawn. The way your eyes flit around as you try and work up the courage to ask for something is particularly endearing to him. He’s gotten very good at reading you.

He literally doesn’t care about physical appearance. He thinks human bodies are fascinating! He doesn’t understand why you get so upset about certain aspects of yourself. Scars, acne, fat, bone structure, everything: he thinks it’s all really cool! He’s a turtle, he doesn’t get what parts of humans are and aren’t conventionally attractive.

He’s a good boyfriend, he really is. He tries his best to remind you of all of your talents and good qualities, and he won’t ever hesitate to stick up for you. He’s learned how to read you very well, and he’s always here for you.

He chose you because you’re, well, you! He wouldn’t choose anyone else: in fact, he’s surprised that you chose him! He knows he has a lot of faults, and you love him anyways. He feels so lucky to call you his partner.

#donatello x reader #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt imagine #tmnt donatello x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt imagine

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deliciouslydebauched · 5 years ago

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BIO

{This in particular can help to give an overview of this character for those unfamiliar with the Fable franchise, it's a very simplified list of facts about a fairly (in my opinion) complex character, both a mixture of direct facts and my own character headcanons.

Immortal ex-pirate and theif, as well as the Hero of Skill, Reaver is the leader of all industry in the Kingdom of Albion having founded Reaver Industries. Through using twisted business tactics in his factories such as child labour, severely low wages, and shooting workers who disobey, he has accumulated unfathomable wealth and became an invaluable asset to the Royal Family, even if they do not always agree with his principles. He is one of their closest advisers as although his suggestions may lack sentiment for the people, they always result in a growth in the Royal Treasury funds.

Narcissistic, egotistical, and displaying a near psychopathic disregard for life, this debauched elite should not be crossed. Although elegance drips from his youthful appearance, finely tailored suits and theatrical persona, Reaver will double cross and use anyone necessary if it benefits his power, financial status or generally entertains him. This can be seen through his 'selective member' parties thrown weekly in which guests observe an unwilling victim battle to their death against brutal creatures, all while dining on whiskey and submitting themselves to whatever lustful pleasures they or their host are in the mood for. Reaver is not immoral, but amoral, seeming to bear no concept of morality. And as the most skilled marksman in the land- the Hero of Skill shan't miss your pretty head if he deems you one fitting of aiming the trigger towards.

Time, loss and greed are a lethal combination. The mortal man that used to exist is long gone, long decayed beyond recognition. All that is left is a soul without a glimmer of light.

"What a weak, despicable man he is. But I am not he. I am Reaver. And I will sleep much better after this chalice of wine.’

-------------------------------- Full Name: Unknown (Goes by Reaver in present time)

Titles: Pirate King, Hero of Skill

Nicknames: Suppressor of the people’, ‘thief’, 'nobhead' and an array of other unpleasant nicknames amongst the peasantry

Age: Roughly 300 years old

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Pansexual aromantic

Birthplace: Oakvale

Residence: It changes regularly. For many years he travelled the seas on his ship ‘the reaver’, only to then settle into a mansion in Bloodstone which he abandons by the end of Fable 2 to travel to Samarkand. In Fable 3 he has returned to Albion to reside in a mansion in Millfields, which he then again abandons.

Financial Status: Upper Class (perhaps only beaten in wealth by royalty)

BODY & BASICS

Height: 6’2

Build: Slim yet toned, although hidden beneath extravagant clothing.

Hair Color: Black

Eye Colour: Brown Scent: Gunpower, expensive colognesTattoos: A small black heart on his left cheekboneScars: None

Alignment: Chaotic neutral/ lawful evil (depends on the circumstance)

FACTS AND HEADCANONS (1) Reaver gained his immortality through striking a deal with the Shadow court, but in doing so did not realise the price he would pay was the destruction of his family, fiance, and all other inhabitants of his home town Oakvale. (2) He must provide a yearly sacrifice to the court to maintain this youth. This is something he has quoted to be becoming an increasing 'burden' as time passes. However once he stops fulfilling this action the court's judges will come for him instead. (3) Reaver is not his real name, but a name taken to symbolise his separation from the weak mortal man he perceives himself to have been many years ago. To reave is, "to take away by or as by force; plunder; rob," common practices of a pirate; hence, his name, Reaver. Reave also means to rend, break, or tear; a reflection of Reaver's violent nature. (4) He was known as the 'King of Pirates' for a period in his life long ago due to killing the previous pirate leader in Albion Captain Dread; however this is a part of his past he now hides away. It wouldn't seem appropriate for a 'respectable' business man to be associated with such a thing now would it? The only calling of his past seems to be that most mansions owned by Reaver tend to be situated by the sea, or some form of lake. (5) Being born as the Hero of Skill gives Reaver inhuman powers of accuracy and speed in combat. His preferred weapon is a gun, this was how he captured ships in the past, it is said that he would capture them by shooting the captain from across the water no matter the distance or conditions. The more impossible the shot was, the faster the crew would surrender.' He never goes anywhere without a gun, and his seemingly graceful walking cane in fact sheaths a sharp blade to be pulled out when necessary. (6) Reaver was indeed once a normal man, but his with every passing century the humane aspect of this individual seems to lessen, as if his very emotions are becoming muted. This may account for his lack of remorse, or capability to stay calm in the face of enemies, instead seeming to find those who loathe him most humorous. He also seems genuinely unphased and unconcerned about turns of events, merely making sarcastic remarks or moving on when his plans do not succeed. (7) It is virtually impossible to get Reaver care for you. He only looks out for his own best interests and survival. This can be put down to years of a blackening heart, as well as the eternal burden he carries over destroying his village all those centuries ago. (8) Clothing Styles: Changes throughout the decades. Currently finely tailored suits of blacks, whites or deep purples, usually with real fur lapels. Leather gloves and boots and a holster beneath his jacket to keep his ‘dragonstonper 48’ pistol in. He brings a cane with him most places and he wear tops hats with a steampunk themed pair of goggles wrapped around the top, an accessory to emphasise his position as head of industry in the kingdom along with his style of bow ties/ cravats. Reaver takes great pride in his clothes, dare to dirty them and he’ll likely have you shot. (9) Reaver has severe struggle sleeping due to plaguing flashbacks to the night his home was destroyed. He has never told any other, but this is one large reason he has a deep craving for the 'night time' company of others, ranging from single people to large groups accompanying him in his bed chambers most nights. If this isn't possible, he tends to sit up and write or drink, or go for walks alone. (10) Reaver is known as the 'Hero of Will', but what does that mean you ask? In Fable, Heroes are extraordinary humans with knowledge and the power over the three heroic disciplines of strength (physically), skill (speed and accuracy with ranged weapons), and will (magic). Heroes are not all the same in talents, each one is usually only able to master one of the disciplines, although there are a rare few who can master all as they are descendants of an ancient bloodline of heroes known as the 'Archon's Bloodline'. Reaver is a hero born capable of mastering 'skill', and was needed along with the hero of will, strength and an Archon bloodline member to defeat Lord Lucien, a man who was threatening to destroy the world. Reaver, being Reaver, only agreed to help after several failed attempts to betray the other heroes for his own gain. Not to mention if the world came under the control of Lucien he'd have had difficulty finding sacrifices to keep his immortal youth. So begrudgingly he helped save the world. How nice. (11) Reaver holds no guilt over the killing of the citizens in Oakvale (except for his fiance, that he regrets deeply), he would do it again in a heartbeat. However, he is still only human, and therefore although experiencing no guilt, he is haunted by their deaths in his consciousness, making him experience a vulnerability that is very out of character for him. He can feel the weight of the sin. Unlike people he kills in the present who have wronged him or offended him, the people of Oakvale had done nothing to him personally. They were just people. And although Reaver kills without hesitation, he never kills without reason. Therefore although feeling no regrets over the event, it is something he would prefer to simply forget.

#fable #roleplay #fable2 #fable3 #fable4 #reaver #fablereaver #sparrow #theresa #fantasy #bios

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casaquecasinos299 · 4 years ago

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Which power supply for gaming pc

Unforgettable Moments In Gaming Aspect Three

It really is time to recognize the very best gaming blogs of the year. EDIT:I applied to watch the Feedback video more than at G4 just about every week, but it's gone down hill the last couple of instances I watched it and now that Adam Sessler isn't on it and they have that girl from IGN that absolutely everyone hates in every single episode I just can't be bothered to watch it any more. Nonetheless worth going back and watching some of the older ones though. Klepic applied to be on that show and back then in the early days was when it was the very best. Back when they really talked about gaming news with some semblance of intellect alternatively of just gushing about what ever game they are told is cool this week.

You are quietly accepting and at peace with your decision to come to be a board gamer for life. Your family knows you enjoy board games and almost certainly play them with you. Your pals know really like board games, and you have terrific gaming groups. You have committed to assigning part of your property to be a board gaming area. For the initially time, you have began to eliminate games from your collection. Perhaps you have sold the games, or you simply do not have space to maintain virtually all of them. Mentally you accept that you never need to have to play just about every game, and you've in all probability narrowed down a handful of games that you want to play routinely.

I got into action games late but when I did it entirely changed how I viewed gaming forever. The game which brought me round was Viewtiful Joe. Here was a game with a deep and open-ended combat technique which seemed to be built as a implies for the player to express creativity. This program is then pitted against opponents and obstacles which were developed from the ground up to interact meaningfully with the core technique. The course was fixed, but the strategy for dealing with that course was fully down to the ingenuity, skill and inspiration of the player. You play like you have a enormous audience watching and the game frequently entices you to enhance the concentrate is not just on finding the player from A to B, the concentrate is on getting the player to play Viewtifully”.

No matter whether you want to create a tiny-scale group web page and spread info about your players or manage huge-scale organizations like Group liquid or Virtus Pro with different gaming divisions, PixieHuge is best for you. PixieHuge delivers you with sections with designated purposes such as player profiles,, sponsor promotions, different game departments, match history and achievements list.

Live in the planet of games on this web-site that is committed to giving out magazine style review contents on the hottest games, capabilities on the gaming community and multiplayer user interface for its readers. How to download games on computer system. Acquire games & game keys with Green Man Gaming - get the very best prices, great bundles & exclusive game bargains daily! Take a look at to discover Green Man Gaming.

What You Should Have Asked Your Teachers On READY

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It's worthwhile getting a niche which will bring men and women back time and once more. This is how you come to be an authority in the gaming neighborhood. Your branding and domain ought to all point to what it is you do, generating you quick to come across. Be creative. Place your personal character into your writing, and your editing. Play to your strengths. If you're a whizz on the Xbox, run with that.

Microsoft — with our practically 40 years of gaming knowledge starting with Computer, as effectively as our breadth and depth of capabilities from software to hardware and deep experience of being a platform enterprise — is nicely equipped to address the complex challenge of cloud game-streaming. With datacenters in 54 Azure regions and solutions readily available in 140 nations, Azure has the scale to provide a good gaming expertise for players worldwide, regardless of their location.

Travel into a virtual world with a VR headset , exactly where http://elsolo.site all of your senses will be treated to a barrage of stimulus from different sources. With the Oculus Rift + Touch Virtual Reality Program , you'd have to prepare yourself for additional intense gameplays, a lot more immersive action, and a totally new and exhilarating gaming present practical experience as the package currently comes with 6 VR games that will retain your heart pumping by way of your chest. The Oculus Touch controllers are ingeniously created for optimum and unparalleled interaction with the a variety of components in the virtual globe. You will need to meet specific system specifications on your laptop, even though. This also makes a excellent gift for nerds in your life.

We're going to the International Festival for Enterprise this month and will be hosting a exceptional occasion Inspiring Entrepreneurs '˜Going Global' where best business individuals will inform us the secrets of their good results. 1 of these entrepreneurs is Paul Sulyok, CEO and Founder of Green Man Gaming Green Man Gaming is a pioneering, worldwide eCommerce technologies company that has gone from strength to strength since its launch in 2010. We asked him how he did it.

It is February! In 2017 that implies that we get six much more weeks of winter AND your yearly dose of video game statistics and trends. We're taking a look at key events and shifts in the gaming business and considering the current state of gaming. Take a peak, or keep for a week! All statistics are completely researched. See sources at the bottom of the page for more information.

Gaming content material on YouTube is some of the stickiest. Extra than 20 of the best one hundred YouTube channels with the most subscribers worldwide are gaming related. Who's the most subscribed? That would be Let's Play creator PewDiePie , with more than 32M subscribers. His loyal following now outnumbers the population of Canada. To give you some viewpoint, Google Trends shows that searches for PewDiePie on YouTube are on par with stars such as Eminem and Katy Perry. He's even made a cameo on South Park.

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When obtaining an very affordable gaming Computer, occasionally you will need to make sacrifices to maintain the specs to a minimum. Thankfully, there are machines like this one from Lenovo that cut down the amount of compromise to a minimum, even supporting virtual reality platforms. The VR Ready” labelÂ means you can play with Oculus Rift and HTC Vive with out any storage difficulties, given the two TB tough drive and the 256 GB SSD. There is a range of specs you can pick out from, so if your spending budget allows for it, you can tailor the most effective components for even superior outcomes.

In the ‘90s, televisions got bigger, and gaming consoles got more strong. Nintendo and Sega fought for the top spot with the Super Nintendo Entertainment System, and the Sega Genesis, respectively. You are going to uncover all the retro games for SNES and Genesis you loved back in the day in 1 easy spot. From Golden Axe to Mega Man X, all your preferred 16-bit titles are offered at the Retro games shop.

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gambinocasino973 · 5 years ago

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How to build a top of the line gaming pc for under 500

Unforgettable Moments In Gaming Aspect 3

Twitter is where game publishers, the gaming media, well-liked game streamers and entertainers, esports leagues, teams, players and commentators interact with their most engaged fans and with a single one more. Online gaming holds immense prospective for developers as properly as investors. The above list makes it apparent that on the net gaming has emerged as a significant segment of the entertainment market. With mobile games, spend-to-play games, and totally free-to-play (F2P) games becoming even far more creative, it is expected that the international on line gaming industry will develop at an immense price.

You are quietly accepting and at peace with your selection to become a board gamer for life. Your family members knows you adore board games and almost certainly play them with you. Your friends know like board games, and you have excellent gaming groups. You've committed to assigning component of your home to be a board gaming area. For the initial time, you have started to take away games from your collection. Possibly you have sold the games, or you simply don't have space to maintain practically all of them. Mentally you accept that you don't require to play each game, and you've almost certainly narrowed down a handful of games that you want to play on a regular basis.

The gaming market saw a number of fascinating developments in 2016 touching on distinctive aspects of the sector. Gaming technologies is developing in quite thrilling methods. The extended promised revolution of virtual and augmented reality moved closer to realization. The mania around Pokémon GO with its mass market appeal and utilization of mobile phones introduced untold millions to the prospective of augmented reality. With its launch in India and South Asia it has turn into the poster youngster for the prospective of mobile games offered its advanced technologies and the huge international smartphone penetration.

These days is the day! I will be gradually releasing the names of the best ten gaming blogs of 2014. Searching over this list, I am positively blown away. So numerous awesome posts this year! If you had been disappointed by the Ennies… if you feel that the true deep thinkers in gaming commentary do not get the focus they deserve… nicely, people, we are going to repair that.

Facebook Gaming has provided their developer API's so we can make streaming games to your preferred social media platform extra easy than ever before. A gaming blog alongside your gaming channel can only raise your exposure if you do it correctly and higher high quality content. But Netflix subscriptions beat Blu-ray sales, and Spotify customers outnumber vinyl geeks. Games, as the significantly less established and a lot more technologically demanding medium, are just taking a bit longer to make the jump. All the signs point to cloud gaming becoming the new normal - and there is anything to play for.

Fair And Unbiased Truth About GAMING (Without All the Hype)

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Paul: Green Man Gaming, like numerous data driven technologies marketplaces, was born in a spreadsheet and continues to this day to be heavily data dependant. The company utilizes historical analysis of correlated information to produce forecasts of client behaviour, as effectively as real-time data streams to augment those forecasts in real time.

Travel into a virtual world with a VR headset , exactly where all of your senses will be treated to a barrage of stimulus from various sources. With the Oculus Rift + Touch Virtual Reality Technique , you'd have to prepare yourself for far more intense gameplays, additional immersive action, and a completely new and exhilarating gaming gift practical experience as the package currently comes with six VR games that will retain your heart pumping via your chest. The Oculus Touch controllers are ingeniously made for optimum and unparalleled interaction with the several elements in the virtual planet. You will have to have to meet particular program requirements on your personal computer, even though. This also tends to make a fantastic gift for nerds in your life.

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An additional of our prime gaming influencers for 2018 is The Rad Brad We had to contain this channel because The Rad Brad is a especially effectively identified YouTube gamer. He produces an unbelievable amount of extremely-good quality, enjoyable content material. It is no wonder he's recognized for developing the finest video game walkthroughs on social media. The Rad Brad has helped to make a number of influencer advertising and marketing campaigns a genuine accomplishment.

Gaming content material on YouTube is some of the stickiest. Additional than 20 of the best one hundred YouTube channels with the most subscribers worldwide are gaming connected. Who's the most subscribed? That would be Let's Play creator PewDiePie , with over 32M subscribers. His loyal following now outnumbers the population of Canada. To give you some point of view, Google Trends shows that searches for PewDiePie on YouTube are on par with stars such as Eminem and Katy Perry. He's even produced a cameo on South Park.

Quality gaming headsets not only let the player hear items that are really hard to pickup with speakers- like directional noises- but also facilitate team operate with their constructed-in mics. Preferred games like PUBG, Fortnite, and Battlefield V have to have these correct audio queues surprisingly, hearing footsteps can make a substantial distinction. No matter if you want to generate a gaming news weblog, a testimonials site or build an on the net community for gamers, the CrystalSkull theme has all the things you will need to get began.

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The future of gaming is a planet where you are empowered to play the games you want, with the people today you want, anytime you want, wherever you are, and on any device of your picking. Our vision for the evolution of gaming is comparable to music and movies — entertainment should be out there on demand and accessible from any screen. These days, I am excited to share with you a single of our key projects that will take us on an accelerated journey to that future planet: Project xCloud.

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kirishwima · 5 years ago

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Hi! How about Juminv for 🍯🍋🍌⚡🌙🌝🌔☀🍍🌻🌽✨🍻💫🔆💛⛅🌟 I sorry if this is too much :'(

not at all!

🍯 do they give each other nicknames ? have them list a few of their favourites !

* Jumin’s not really the type-but if V gives him a nickname he’ll love it and chuckle to himself anytime V uses it!

* He’ll simply call V ‘Jihyun’, unless V specifically asks him to call him something else-he just...doesn’t understand the appeal of nicknames lmao

* V too isn’t all that fond of them-he loves Jumin’s name, why should he change it? Though sometimes he’ll call him ‘Ju’, like he used to sometimes when they were kids :’)

🍋 do they like cuddling ? what’s their favourite or the comfiest cuddling position for them ?

* They both love cuddling! Especially Jumin, though he won’t admit it out loud-but the moment V’s near him he’ll just hold him close, big spoon, small spoon, laying on top of him, no matter, he loves it all!

* V loves classic spooning-he doesn’t mind what spoon he is lol, be it holding Jumin close or feeling Jumin’s chest on his back, he loves it all, it really comforts him to feel his beloved so close to him <3

🍌 which one is usually the one to initiate any kissing or just any plain touching ?

* V! He’s a very touchy-feely guy, he needs to have his hands on Jumin at all times-even while simply talking he’ll lean his shoulder onto Jumin, or he’ll hold his hand e.t.c

* Jumin will often be the one to initiate kissing though, mainly because V’s a little apprehensive about it at first-it’ll take him a while before he’s fully confident to initiate it himself!

⚡️ how do they prefer to show affection ? are they more touchy or do they show it in ways other than contact ?

* For Jumin, affection comes in actions-how he’ll always make sure V’s favorite wine can always be found in their home, or how he’ll book them tickets to V’s favorite theatre show, things that show he cares, because he’s not used to showing affection, but caring-that he knows and he’ll show how much he cares constantly

* V is more fond of physical affection, but it’s not his main form of showing his love either-his love is seen through his art, how all his photographs have Jumin as their model, how he paints in Jumin’s favorite colours, how he’ll draw the most gorgeous painting of Elizabeth the 3d because he knows it’ll make Jumin smile-that’s his love language :)

🌙 be honest , who’s the little spoon and who’s the big spoon ?

* They switch it up! They really don’t mind who’s what lol

🌝 what’s YOUR favourite moment of them together ?

* it’s not something in canon, but it’s implied that they hang out and drink wine every so often and i can imagine that SO it’s my favorite semi-canon scene lmao

* Otherwise I love their first meet-up it’s so cute, little horrible driver JuJu and ConfusedYetCaring V :’)

🌔 do they like wearing each other’s clothes ? who’s usually the one wearing the other’s clothes ?

* nah, neither of them sees the appeal for it-or rather....

* V would love to see Jumin in his clothes, but the idea of bringing it up to him is so embarassing he can’t bring himself to do so lmao

* They’re rich kids who have suits tailored to their exact measurements-unless it’s casual clothes they wouldn’t really wear one another’s outfits lmao

🔆 do they see themselves together for the long run ? like , getting married , starting a family , and all that jazz ?

* YES. Neither of them talks about it, worried of how to bring it up but...absoloutely. V wants the whole packet, whilst Jumin...well, he wants love, and a family of his own, and V is so so down for that (plus they’d be such good dads???)

💛 what’s your favourite aspects of their relationship dynamics ?

* I LOVE how much they care about one another, and how they know one another so well-plus I’m SUCH a sucker for the friends-to-lovers dynamic just. Fluff fluff and more fluff. I love it!!!

🌦 i know this one sucks to answer , but least favourite thing about each other?

* Lmao for Jumin it’s absoloutely how secretive V gets to ‘protect him’-he HATES it, for him trust is everything, and hiding things=mistrust, and that’s that.

* For V, it’s how absoloute Jumin can be on certain topics, how he leaves little room for arguement-for Jumin, many topics are only black&white, no gray zone, whilst Jihyun can find the gray zone in most things, so that really furstrates him.

🍍 which one surprises the other with more gifts ? what kind of gifts are most common ?

* They’re both RICH AF, they’d one up one another with gifts all the time, like birds trying to impress a ladybird with fancy nests djdjdjdj

* Not really, but they love giving gifts to one another-V buys a lot of things for Elly since he knows Jumin adores her, and he makes a lot of paintings for Jumin <3

*Jumin loves buying art supplies for V, and accessories, since he likes wearing necklaces and bracelets! He wants the best for his boo <3

🌻 what does each of their families think about their partner ?

* Mmm...tricky topic. V’s dad...well he has no opinion since he has such little interaction with V. He’s shocked at first, but he has no say in their relationship, so his opinion is nonexistent lmao

* As for Jumin’s dad, he was shocked at first-he might’ve even tried to deterr them over their relationship, but eventually he gave in, realized his son is happy, and approves of them! He’s a little confused but he got the spirit pretty much lmao

✨ have each partner describe their favourite thing about the other ! is it a physical feature or a mannerism , or something else ?

Oo let’s do that as them talking about each other hahah~

Jumin: “What I like the most about Jihyun? Is this something one should answer when dating? I see...well...I suppose my favorite thing about him would be his stubborness. Yes, of course I understand how contradicting that may be-but his headstrong attitude, how he does his best at anything he does-I greatly appreciate and adore that. *cue small smile here*”

V: “What’s my favorite thing about Jumin? Hmmm...how can I choose? His small smile, reserved just for me, or his dark piercing eyes, how he calculates each situation, but hides more emotion than any one person could ever see...no, I don’t think I can choose *laughs* I’m sorry”

🍻 what would be a typical date night for them ?

* They’re both suckers for a classic dinner-wine-then back home thing ;) Only for them it’s like, one step above us foolish mortals, we’re talking the fancy resturaunts and hecking expensive wine

* Every so often though they go on roadtrips, per Jihyun’s request, and they kinda are their favorite kinds of dates, away from everyone and anything else hehe <3

💫 which one secretly looks at the other like they put the stars in the sky when the other isn’t looking ?

* JUMIN!!!

* He doesn’t know V catches him staring way more often than he thinks but, it gets V so flustered he doesn’t ever bring it up hehe~

🌟 what’s their favourite moment together ?

* The moment they confessed to one another-it was so natural, they both loved it. They’d been sitting at the balcony at Jihyun’s apartment, the sun slowly falling, they’d been standing shoulder-to-shoudler, Jihyun putting out a cigarette when he turned and saw Jumin staring.

* He simply smiled, leaned closer, and let Jumin kiss him-and that was that. Nothing fancy, nothing extra-just them, together, like they should be-how they’ve always been <3

******

-OTP ask meme-

#anon #asks

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codenamesazanka · 6 years ago

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The League of Villain is Shigaraki’s. His team, his comrades, his. I’m pretty sure he choose each of them himself, evaluated each person, all to careful compose the most functional group, tailored to his preference, that he can lead. Maybe?

Because Kurogiri has his doubts, didn’t seem to think much of them, and All For One seem to only see the League as Tomura’s little friends.

The League is a odd group: Dabi is the only long-range fighter; none of them are quite fit for the intense close combat that their opponents the Heroes seem to prefer (yeah, I’m ignoring Muscular, sorry); and their specialties are more based on quiet, small scaled deception and sneak attacks.

Transformation, Double, Compressing - fully one half of the team - these quirks aren’t super powerful or capable of causing widespread damage. Villainous? Maybe. But Redestro is right that without the monstrous Noumus, the League are nothing but street punks.

True, they were probably picked specifically for the Camp raid to go as smoothly as possible, but Shigaraki had stated out loud that he hoped they succeed, that they’ll come back, that he’ll be able to use them for future operations. And he must have turned down others that came to the League, for Dabi implied the Vanguard Action Squad were the ‘elites’.

But I think the most interesting aspect of the League is how well they get along, how readily they accepted being in the League of Villains, intending to stay awhile, to follow Shigaraki Tomura.

Twice is so loyal, quickly seeing the group as ‘home’. Mr. Compress continued even after losing a limb; Magne took the hit list seriously and stood up for her comrades; and absolutely none of them was swayed by Overhaul despite the man making good points about the League’s flaws. Toga is pretty friendly and Spinner was willing to put up with a lot for Stain-ism. Dabi is...well, he’s always trying to recruit.

I wonder if Shigaraki picked his friends allies out for their agreeableness, that he saw in each of them loyalty and cooperation, that he choose those traits over brute force or powerful quirks? They’re all so close-knitted (for criminals and villains, anyhow).

No doubt I’m likely reaching wildly and forcing details to fit my pre-made conclusions, but I feel like Shigaraki had a clear and long-term goal in mind, a strategy for good team, one that Kurogiri and All For One didn’t quite understand or approve of. Yet Shigaraki, given the freedom to make his choices, absolutely succeed in creating a League of Villains that works so extremely well for him and each other.

#or maybe it was luck #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki #league of villains #the league of villains #nalslastworkingbraincell #hey guys!!!#plz tell me if you feel like im restating things and meta #that ive already written about!#cuz i feel like i did and do #if so my apologies!#i just love the league so much #and ill never get tired of singing their praises

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fuckyeahharryhart · 5 years ago

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PART 6

THE ART OF SEDUCTION SEXY HARRY HART FANFIC

HARRY HART FAN FIC: (sing songs) smut, smut, smut! Inspired by Harry Hart and his glass of scotch. And also the one below of him in his shirt, tie and shoulder holster.

HARRY HART/ ORIGINAL CHARACTER M/F

WARNINGS: Mature, Smut, light D/s, lust

Words: 7600

SUMMARY Harry and Gwendolyn, after getting acquainted with each other, share a rare evening alone together in the Kingsman lounge. What starts out as an innocent challenge and a glass of scotch, leads Harry to teach a lesson on the finer points of the gentleman spy's art of seduction.

NOTES: This is part of my main series for KINGSMAN 3, but since this is the chapter with sexy gentleman spy Harry Hart combined with smut that many of us like the most, I decided to also separate it so it's easy to find and read on it's own. If you're looking for the whole story, check out my other fics. Still in progress though

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After working months at his side, whether it be in the field, during training, debriefing in his office, or simply occupying the same space in quieter moments, reading in the lounge with a cup of tea, enjoying a few precious moments of peace, Gwendolyn was no closer at deciphering the gorgeous mystery that was Harry Hart. Her time with him merely reinforced what she already knew. And what she knew had, much to her chagrin, become increasingly and disconcertingly distracting with every moment she shared space with him. He was beautiful, obviously. She determined that the moment she saw him. Even from a distance, he cut a striking figure. But is was the understated way he acknowledged his own appearance, knew that it was pleasing and accepted it with grace, dignity and a matter-of-factness, that only made him more attractive.

His appeal wasn’t just based on his good looks. There were other men who had more classically balanced features. It was significantly more than good genes or the symmetry of bone structure. Not that his purely physical attributes were lacking in any regard. She had already committed to memory every aspect of his form and figure, from his hair, with a distinguished flurry of silver, all the way down to his feet in their gleaming oxfords. No doubt polished with every wearing; they carried him with purposeful movement and long measured strides.

Harry was a tall man. She would never forget the first choke hold he put her in. Often folding his legs as gracefully as possible under tables and desks that were just a breath too short to accommodate a man of his stature. He carried himself differently. Always with a posture, walk, a gait, that had a purpose. Never rushed unnecessarily, he possessed the ease of someone in full control of his physical body. His movements were light, sharp, and kinetic. When he was still, he held himself straight and tall, without strain. In more casual moments, his weight would shift to one side or the other, or he might lean against a support, breaking up the long, precise lines of his full height.

Mostly, this had to do with a hyper awareness of his environment and his place in it. If he needed to calm a new recruit, he might stand with authority, but tuck his hands in his pockets, conveying a sense of ease and familiarity. When confronting an adversary, his stature seemed to grow as he pulled himself to his full height. In those rare moments where he was free from personal and professional obligations responsibilities, as much as he could ever be, his figure would take on smooth curves and relaxed angles. The space he occupied was his to claim, mold, and manipulate. And he did so with his body, his voice, his gaze, his way of dress.

Surprisingly, she discovered that Harry was a man who often communicated through physical touch. As a man of few words, who often guarded his privacy and personal life, she expected him to be even more reserved with his body language, to be even more wary of close physical contact. Quite the contrary, he was often more generous with a hand on the shoulder or a gentle pat on the back as a form of approval or encouragement. Sometimes, he would place his hand over an agents as gesture of support and understanding. He was more demonstrative with contact and touch than he was with using words of praise or comfort. Even his proximity, whether it be as a figure in the distance or his physical closeness, could affect the energy of the room.

Rolling it over in her mind, she realised that it made sense that Harry would be comfortable communicating through touch. In some regards, he was a very tactile man, a sensual man, if not overtly so. He was a man that celebrated the senses.

There was an emphasis, not on the prestige or price of an object, but on its, color, texture, lines that were pleasing or challenging to the eye. Not as a flaunting of wealth, but a source of pleasure. It wasn’t an ostentatious display of the rich, It was the luxury of selection and taste. Any piece of clothing or fabric that touched his body directly was often luxurious, as well, scarfs, gloves, fine cashmere or calfskin leather. Though she had no way of knowing, she assumed his sheets would be of the highest thread count.

His manner of dress was immaculate and as precise as the polished, clipped tones of his aristocratic accent. He presented himself as a man who was self-assured with his appearance. Whatever he wore, he wore with confidence. He wore it well, without vanity, pretension, ego or conceit. Not that he needed the help of his wardrobe to face the world. His manner of dress seemed to highlight, magnify his innate sense of self. He was not a flashy man, but he appreciated the expert craftsmanship that went into a finely cut suit. That good clean lines, quality materials, understated but interesting details could be the final polish on an already finely honed presentation.

He was a man of consistency. His tie was an unfailing full Windsor, tucked under the spread collar of a pristine white shirt. An equally crisp pocket square, folded neatly, peeked from his breast pocket. French cuffs were secured with custom gold links, bearing the Kingsman insignia. His suits were mostly double breasted, in classic shades of black, charcoal, navy and grey and cut in a wool that was appropriate for the occasion, whether solid, pinstriped, or woven with a pattern such as herringbone, or houndstooth. After years as a Kingsman agent, he had amassed a considerable and varied wardrobe that consisted of classic suits, formal wear, overcoats, ties, scarves, for any occasion or any type of mission. Each Kingsman agent also wore a gold signet ring on the pinky of their dominant hand. Harry wore the ring on his right.

Kingsman suits were cut close to the body, but designed with allowances made to accommodate weapons, ensure manoeuvrability and flexibility in all types of action. They were also bulletproof. It was a feature created after decades of experimenting with different textiles and weaves and exploring processes and techniques that would result in a material that could withstand the velocity and impact of of a bullet shot at close range. The lightweight, flexible lining was sewn into every Kingsman suit and many times proved to be a lifesaver.

The fine, bespoke tailoring emphasized Harry’s height and build. Trousers were slim cut, long and hemmed with a perfect mid break. He preferred the simple Oxford rather than brogues. His shoes would glow with a mellow shine. He styled his hair in a classic, handsome cut, and was always clean shaven, (unless in the field where there was no opportunity for a straight razor shave). His aftershave and cologne were unobtrusive but memorable. Rather than preceding him, the warm and masculine sent of woods and spices, with hints of cardamon, the tactile sensuality of rich leather and suede, would linger after his departure, like a layer of warm dark velvet. Even his hands were beautiful. Beautiful but not delicate. Large wide palms, long elegant fingers, his nails were neat and clipped. They sometimes bore the marks of time spent in the field. They were strong and capable.

Overall, he had the appearance of a man who embraced classics, honoured tradition, but defined his look with his own individual aesthetic personality and sense of style.

In quieter moments, when she had the opportunity to watch him without being too obvious or call attention to herself, she allowed her curiosity to wonder over all the small details and mannerism that were unique to Harry. How his fingertips would gently find the arm of his glasses and rest lightly there, when he was thoughtful or pondering a question, as if it helped him focus or think. The automatic gesture probably developed after years of transmitting information through the eyeglasses, which also functioned as communication devices. Through her experience in human psychology, she recognised this as a self soothing gesture. Finding the comfort of something familiar. She was fairly sure that Harry was aware of this gesture and allowed himself some habits, that were, not particularly productive but, helpful nonetheless. Rubbing his thumb along the band of his signet ring. The way he would always shoot his cuffs when rising from his seat. Or run the palm of his hand along the back of his head, smoothing down the already polished hair.

Never had she met someone who had the ability to asses and evaluate any given situation as throughly and unerringly as Harry. Whether it entailed clearing a room, identifying a mark, or even just something as simple as slowing his pace when she walked along side him so she wouldn’t have to struggle to keep up. He was constantly aware of his surroundings and deconstructing what needed to happen to make the environment more pleasing, the conversation more engaging, the meeting more productive, the mission more likely to succeed. He was nothing if not thoughtful. Thus when she walked with him, he always slowed and allowed her to maintain her own graceful stride.

It would seem impossible for man to be blessed with so many gifts, but Harry Hart proved to be the exception to the rule, for he was as charming and gracious as he was handsome. His quick wit, his clever way with words, as well as his dry, incisive sense of humour could enthral even the most unwilling participant.

He could placate the most difficult handler, assuage the most reluctant agent, enchant the most reserved target, or ingratiate himself into the most inhospitable of circumstances. When he turned on the full force of his charm, the people he met, let alone the men and women who worked with him, frequently found themselves elevated in his presence, their own experience heightened by his vitality and charisma. They left the experience a little breathless, a little awestruck, a little seduced by Harry Hart. She herself was no exception. And she had been spending a lot of time with him.

————

They found themselves alone one evening at the manor. In the lounge, when they both happened to desire a drink at the same time. Most of the Kingsman had already departed for the shop if they were returning to the city. The rest had dispersed to their own private quarters, or were participating in whatever activity they had planned for the evening. The lounge was quiet. They way he liked it. Apparently, it was the way Gwendolyn preferred it as well.

He spotted her the same moment she lifted her gaze at the new arrival. Her eyes narrowed slightly in pleasure at the sight of him. She gave him a small, but welcoming smile. The musical clink of crystal against glass as he poured a scotch from the fully stocked bar was the only sound aside from the cracking logs in the grand fireplace.

Around the room were smaller clusters of tables and leather club chairs tucked into alcoves for smaller gatherings or intimate conversations.

It was at one these clusters that he found her, tucked in a quiet corner near the fireplace.

In the most relaxed arrangement he allowed himself while still on kingsman property, he had his coat draped over his arm. Dressed in his shirtsleeves, tie and shoulder holster, tumbler in hand, he approached her, also with a pleasant but small smile. Pleased that she be the one that was sharing this space with him.

She was dressed quite differently from how he first remembered her. Well, her clothes hadn’t been memorable, but she had been. Since she was not a knighted agent, they weren’t quite sure how to classify her yet, she took the freedom to dress beyond the Kingsman uniform. Though always appropriate and surprisingly on brand, she was not quite regulation. If she was out in the field, she was in tactical, or the women’s version of the kingsman suits. She even had the shop tailor some custom pieces so she could have more diversity. When she was at Kingsman HQ or at the shop in support, she dressed appropriately, but in her own style. There were handfuls of fashionable men at Kingsman. You couldn’t turn around and not run into a gentleman turned out in Kingsman’s finest. But an attractive, stylish woman was a rarer sight. Even he noticed the heads that turned when she walked by.

Walking toward her, he took the time to observe her appearance, he told himself as spies always did out of habit. Today, she remained on the property. Without the need for being in the field, this would be her most ladylike look. She was dressed in a way that was very elegant, but sexy at the same time. Or, perhaps it wasn’t supposed to look sexy. He set that observation aside. Not the time nor the place, he thought to himself.

She was dressed in a slim, knee length pencil skirt in a very deep shade of oxblood red. It was velvet he noted when he saw the sheen of the grain as she shifted her knees in his direction. A matching tailored jacket, that, like him, she had removed and draped over the back of her chair. Topped with a delicate, almost sheer silk blouse the color of sun bleached bone. It had tiny pearl buttons down the front, and lace detailing at the collar, cuffs and similar detailing along the button placket. A narrow dark brown leather belt circled her waist with a gold clasp rather than a prong buckle. Dark brown suede court shoes with a tall, but reasonable heel. Her makeup was minimal and natural. She looked like she just somehow heightened her features, but in no discernible way he could describe.

As he got closer, he was able to notice even smaller details. Her long, wavy, he had to admit, beautiful hair, was twisted up and away from her face and secured in some secret way women have where it would stay perfectly in place by means he could never quite see. Her accessories were feminine and understated. Small gold earrings in the shape of teardrops, a simple gold cuff around her wrist, a Kingsman issue watch on the other. A signet ring on her own pinkie. Her nails were trimmed short and clean, either no polish or something bare. A thin gold chain around her neck with a small solid gold version of the Kingsman pendant.

He didn’t know what he wanted a woman to look like until he first saw her. The first time, on that first chaotic night, he had the same thought. He could give you a basic description of what she was wearing, but he could describe every feature of her face. The way she looked when she was reflective. The line of her jaw when she was determined.

And then, for the very first time he saw her, dressed, properly, walking down the long marble corridor of the HQ manor, when she had the opportunity to present herself on her own terms. He thought, this is what I want a woman to look like. It wasn’t that she was model beautiful, or that her features were perfect. In London, on the streets, you could see plenty of models. They were beautiful, no doubt, and pleasing to look at, but once you were done, you were able to go about your day without a second thought.

Her beauty had substance. The fact that he knew what her skill set included, to know what she had overcome to be where she was, to be the person she was, made her beauty a real tangible thing, regardless of what she was wearing. Perhaps it was that, whatever she wore, she made it part of her. It wasn’t just a pretty skirt or a flattering blouse, it was the way she wore it that made you notice her. She could have look completely different, with the opposite features, petite and curly brown hair and brown eyes. He would have still have felt the same. And he would still say, this is what I want a woman to look like.

This young woman had the capacity to stir his heart. Something that had been quiet and still for a very long time. Even something that he thought no longer had the desire to be moved. It was certainly not something he was seeking. He, long ago, had accepted the fact that the life of agent isn’t one that fosters lasting relationships. Relationships were based on communication and he had far too many secrets as a Kingsman.

He was beyond the time in his life for these kinds of thoughts. He knew he had been handsome in his youth. He had his fair share of relationships and much more than his fair share of sexual encounters. He was aware that his looks had carried him quite well as he got older and that if he wanted, there were women, very desirable ones, that would be more than willing to engage in a casual relationship. He was by no means vanilla. It wasn’t that he was prudish in the least, or one to deny himself physical pleasure. If she wasn’t who she was, then he would have most likely allowed himself to pursue her and enjoyed whatever that relationship had to offer. The crux of it was, that he would not be as attracted to her, or charmed by her if she wasn’t exactly who she was. He would not want her as much as he did if she were any different. But it was who she was, ironically, that kept him from her. She was Merlin’s daughter. It was a knot too tight for him to untie.

——

He set these thoughts aside as he approached her. Even though it was obvious she was alone, Kingsman manners never failed. Never ask a lady directly if she’d like your company. Give her a polite way to refuse without making her say no. She will indicate if your presence if desired.

“Excuse me, miss.” he opened. “Is this seat taken?”

She awarded him with an amused smile. She always enjoyed his little game of manners.

She nodded toward the chair. Please.

Draping his coat on the back of his chair, just as she did, He adjusted his slacks so he could sit down comfortably and gracefully. The club chairs were low and designed to sink back into. He took his seat, adjusted a little until he, too, was settled in.

Since both of them were now relatively stuck in their respective positions, where they couldn’t move without significant effort, he simply raised his glass in her direction. She followed suit.

———

Gwendolyn was pleased when he was comfortable enough to sit in silence with her. It was one of the first tells she would look for in asset or mark. Did they have enough self assurance to be silent? Were they uncomfortable, awkward, fidgety? Did they try to fill the silence with their own words? Most often, if they lacked confidence, she would notice these tells immediately. One of her favourite activities was to sit in silence.

It was also one of her favourite activities to look at Harry Hart. The fact that he was handsome was no surprise. When she initially started at Kingsman, this was simply an objective observation, like masterful way he handled weaponry. Or the fact that he was right handed. The more they were partnered on the field, the closer they became, both in proximity and as colleagues, his physical attributes began to affect her in ways that continued to make her increasingly uncomfortable.

She was aware his body was that of a man that she admired and looked up to. Tall, broad shouldered, slim hipped. Strong, driven, powerful. She became aware of all the things that his body could do. She had the opportunity to observe him every time they were in the field, in combat, in action.

But she also began to discern a softness, a gentleness that he could convey when he gathered her up after a surprising blast had knocked them both off their feet. Hands that smoothed back her hair from her forehead upon waking up in medical after a particularly dangerous mission. A warm hand on her shoulder as she successfully accomplished a challenging task. Arms that held her after a devastating loss.

She was aware that as her mentor, he had a responsibility to maintain a professional relationship. But with escalating frequency, she imagined how it would feel to have him pressed up against her, to feel his body, purposeful and confident. While not in a chokehold.

————

The evening was relaxed. Both of them, without the urgency of an upcoming mission to prepare, took the opportunity to simply rest and unwind. A seldom occasion. Feeling more and more at ease when they were together, she allowed herself a little space to test the waters. When engaging targets, if they seemed comfortable sitting in silence in her company, would they make direct eye contact? She took another small sip of her drink, savoured it for a moment, and swallowed.

Hmmm. She was very curious about Harry and she was feeling surprisingly playful. She wanted to try something. Let’s say an experiment in tradecraft. She waited until she caught his eye. He seemed amused and matched her eye contact with equal directness. She was pleased that he made eye contact and even more pleased when he maintained it. But he was a spy, after all. Making and maintaining eye contact would be elementary for him.

With a little cheekiness on her part, she raised her glass to her lips again and took a small sip. He did not waver. His eyes even took on a little bit of curious amusement. She held the scotch on her tongue, pulled it to the back of her mouth, rolled the scotch around a little bit longer than necessary, before she swallowed.

Neither of them would look away first. She gave him a half smile, half smirk, crinkled her eyes a bit in amusement. She seemed to be saying. Ok. Your turn.

He had never seen her in this kind of playful mood and Harry suddenly found himself enjoying this little match immensely.

He could more than participate in this game. He, literally, had decades more experience than her. An agent may be able to seduce. But a gentleman agent was a master at the art of seduction. And Harry Hart was the consummate gentleman agent. One did not get to where he was in life without knowing how to pleasure a woman. He was often told he had beautiful and talented hands. That may have been years ago, but those kinds of skills, they stayed with a man.

A quick raise of his brow. Darling, challenge accepted.

Holding her eyes with his, he lowered his glass just enough to where it was in her sight line, but slightly off to the side, at the edge of her peripheral vision. She would still be able to hold eye contact, but would have to make an effort not to glance down at his glass. Especially, when she saw what he was going to do with it.

He held her gaze suddenly with an intense focus she was unprepared for. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that he was holding his glass, cupping it in the palm of one hand. He began to simply roll it around gently, as one would while enjoying a proper scotch. He rolled it around harmlessly, in a slow, lazy, rhythmic pattern.

She had to concentrate a little harder not to look away, but she kept his gaze. If she was uncomfortable, she didn’t show it. She hoped her gaze held a similar intensity as Harry’s. His felt, well, piercing, for lack of a more appropriate word.

This was certainly turning out to be an interesting evening, Harry thought. She seemed determined to stick this through. He would be required to dial his technique up a notch. He nested the heavy base in the center of his palm and let it rest there for awhile without moving. Then, once again, he started rolling the glass in his hand, not to stir the liquid, but to feel the surface of glass itself. He bounced the glass, lightly, as if testing the weight and feeling the heaviness.

The movement was subtle, slow, and sensuous. He let his hand explore the texture of the smooth surface. The base of his thumb pressed against the glass in slow, languid circles, sometimes rolling on to the pad of his thumb, sometimes to his finger tip. But he did this as if he were doing it unconsciously, because he was staring at the young woman who sat in front of him with the focus and intensity that said she was the only woman on earth, and that he wanted her.

There was truth to the term, the male gaze. It was not looking at something through a man’s eyes, it was seeing into something as a man. There was a reason why they called this particular look penetrating. It was a gaze of desire, a singularly male want and need. If done properly, it was a way to make love to a woman without touching her. It was far beyond physical contact . It wasn’t hard for him to harness his essential masculine energy. He had done it for years on countless honey traps in his younger days with the agency. He hadn’t thrown the full force of himself to seduce in quite awhile and found that he was enjoying a little flex of his muscle. If desire had a name, at that moment, it would be called Harry Hart. He let his desire roll off of him in waves.

What she didn’t quite understand, was that the game she was playing with him, wasn’t about who could keep eye contact the longest. It was a question of who was going to be seduced and who was going to be the seducer. She was approaching what she thought was a staring contest as a battle of the wills, which was why she was going to fail. Making eye contact may be a test of power and confidence, but that was a quick, brief test. A simple meeting or a darting of the eyes. It was very easy to find out who was going to be able to make and hold contact. However, eye contact for a prolonged period of time, especially between a man and a woman? It became something quite different. It was a game of seduction. It wasn’t a test of power. It was a test of control. Control of two things in this case, the seducer’s own desire, and the desire of the other person. Could the seducer harness his own desire to control the seduced.

She had not faltered yet. He raised to single brow. Would you like me to keep going?

She narrowed her gaze. Please, do.

The expression on his face all but said out loud. “You asked for it.”

He saw the flush in her cheeks when she noticed what he was doing with his glass. Her breathing intensified. Her pupils dilated and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Her eyes widened. Holy fuck, she thought. With very exact and explicit movements of his hands, he was not just implying, but overtly demonstrating how he used them to give pleasure to a woman. The shock of seeing him within the frame of something so blatantly sexual, all the while looking at her the entire time? It was intensely arousing.

He was not only looking at her, he was positively devouring her with his gaze. She could feel him, his energy in pulses of heat. This wasn’t merely eye contact. This was something unexpected and she was not prepared for it. Harry was suddenly changed, maybe not changed, but different. He was harder, stronger, more demanding. He was more of everything. The polite, honorable, considerate gentleman was still there, but now he added an aspect of himself that she had never seen or experienced before. The man was still Harry, but it also as if a part of him had been unleashed, whatever primal energy that was held in check by the handsome suits and the manners and the chivalry, had been released.

She fought to maintain her composure. He knew exactly what he was doing. His hands moved expertly, and with ease. His gaze, became even more intense, if that was even possible.

He continued to play and to tease as he held the glass in his palm. She knew where he had his hand. She could feel the exact placement as if it were on her own body. The base of his palm would cup her center, with the rest of his fingers spreading between her legs. His middle finger was still moving in achingly slow circles, one direction, then slowly moving in the other direction. He curled his finger under, using his knuckle, rolling it in tiny circles. Not even really moving just shifting the pressure moving from one side to the other, from top to bottom.

She saw in his eyes, that he knew, that she was not only being affected by his movements, but she was feeling sensations as if he were touching her directly.

It was the most erotic experience of her life.

Here was this beautiful man, still dressed as properly as ever in his dress shirt and tie, his shoulder holster with his side arm. His perfect hair, his perfect face. With all his dignity and respect, relaxing comfortably back into his chair, his legs spread wide, an ankle crossed over his knee, one elbow resting casually on the arm of his leather chair. Radiating such a profound sexual energy, that without even touching her, had the ability to control her body with only his eyes and the the way he moved a glass in his hand. He was so confident in his movements. His expression said, however brief this moment, that he owned her, that she was his, and he knows that she wants it that way. He can see it all over her face. He can see it in her eyes.

——

He wasn’t even close to being done.

He felt himself harden as his own arousal grew. He didn’t try to stop it. Instead of letting it distract him, he channeled that energy through him and into her. Allowing her to witness the physical evidence of his own desire would strengthen his hold. Never underestimate the power of the imagination. She would see it. Her mind would do the rest.

He saw her lips part, even the slightest bit. Her chest rising and falling under her ladylike blouse as her breathe quickened. Her knees pressed tightly together. He watched her face very, very carefully and intently, watching the subtle changes in her expressions as he shifted the movements of his hands, knowing that she was feeling his movements in her body. Every time her brow would furrow, or she took a sharp intake of breath, or would clench her pretty hands, as he moved his own, he knew she was feeling pleasure. And that he was the source of that pleasure.

He knew that there were men who were turned on by violence. For him, however, there was nothing more erotic than the sight of a woman experiencing the pleasure that you were giving her. So, he was especially aroused when he was free to look at the nuances of her face and body freely and openly. Her pleasure had reached a constant as she moved almost imperceptibly to the consistent rhythm of his hand.

And she still did not drop her eye contact. He knew, now that she was fully aroused, she would not break eye contact. She probably couldn’t at this point if she tried. For, half of her pleasure was a result of seeing the man who was controlling her pleasure. And seeing that she pleased him, that he was also sexually aroused, intensified her pleasure. And she wanted to offer that to him, very willingly. He was finding out much about her in these few moments. Things that he wasn’t even sure she knew about herself. Very few women would have been comfortable enough with their sexuality to be purely on the receiving end of pleasure. In the intimacy of their own bedroom in a committed relationship. Let alone in an extremely public and therefore vulnerable way. With a man who may be, slightly off limits. Which, in fact, probably added to her pleasure.

To see just how much she was under his thumb, pun aside, he paused for a moment. He kept his hand, his fingers in the exact same place. He just stilled. And watched her. After a few moments he could see the tiniest furrow of her brow. When he continued to remain still, he saw the movement he waiting for. She probably didn’t even know she had made it. It was the slightest lifting and rolling of her hips. He didn’t realize he could be more turned on, but he felt himself harden even more. It was the motion every woman made, in his experience, when they wanted more, when they were asking for more, and when they were begging for more. The ability to actively listen and comprehend another person was the most profound influencing tactic one could hone in communication, and therefore seduction. Which is exactly what he was doing. In a very non verbal, very physical way.

He began his movements again, with more intensity and purpose. He let his finger, for the first time, slide all the way up the side of the glass, even letting it lift with the upward movement of his palm. He saw her body move as if she were receiving him.

He knew she was experiencing waves of intense pleasure. He could tell she wanted to close her eyes and tip her head back. As he witnessed her need, he went in for his last movements. His palm pressing up into the base of the glass, his thumb rolling in small firm circles and his entire middle finger along the entire length of the glass, the tip almost reaching the top of the rim. As if his finger were deep inside her, he made deliberate strokes while pressing into the glass, slow, but then gradually increasing in speed and pressure.

He knew, that she knew, the exact two parts he was pleasuring.

Her lips parted, her breathing grew heavier. She had no idea what was going to happen next, all she felt were waves of pleasure. The only thing she could concentrate on was not losing eye contact with the man in front of her.

He also knew he was mesmerized by the sight of her. He didn’t know if he could stop. But it didn’t matter because he didn’t want to. This moment had to hit the list of the top most erotic experiences of his life. Both fully clothed, siting in separate chairs, more than six feet apart. With only eye contact between them. He didn’t know if he’d experienced something more intensely arousing, knowing that he was the one she was feeling when she made herself come.

He began to see the tell tale tremors, the quickening breath, her lips parting with cries that she desperately wanted to make that she would not let herself, and the dear girl, was still trying to hold on. Psychologically she was making it harder for herself, denying her own release would only make it that much more physically intense when she had to give in.

It was at that moment, that a door banged within the manor and someone appeared at the large entrance of the club room.

“Harry. That you?”

Damn it. It was Eggsy,

“Just headin’ out.” Eggsy called over. “What’s up? Looks like you two’re having a staring contest. Whose winning?”

“It’s a tie” Harry replied.

Eggsy held up his hand in a quick wave and left.

He glanced back over to Gwendolyn, where she was still trying to maintain eye contact, wait no, she was just staring into the space behind him, concentrating on something he could not see.

——

She knew she had to stop staring at Harry, so she looked past his shoulder into the empty space behind him. At this point, even the sight of him might set her off. She was still right at the cusp of her climax and her body was still so aroused she was afraid that any movement could push her over the edge. She wanted to tell Harry to leave, but she couldn’t think of a way without embarrassing or offending one or both of them. All she could do at the moment was sit quietly. So that’s what she did. She was waiting for her body to catch up with the rest of her and settle down. He was waiting patiently until she was ready to move or speak.

After a bit of time, she glanced over at him, made sure it was safe. It was, and she began to relax a little, though her body still felt like a flame that was ready to ignite with any hint of friction. She just needed to stay still for awhile.

She saw Harry watching her, his face both concerned and amused.

He broke the silence.

“And that, my darling,” he said pointedly. “Is how one create’s an effective honey trap.”

In an attempt to further diffuse the situation, he wanted to be frank and direct with her and not to brush what just happened under the rug. That would be awkward for both of them. He did not want her to feel embarrassed or ashamed or uncomfortable with him or what had happened. The best way was to be as blunt as possible. He pushed down on his palms and rose out of his chair with minimal effort.

“My dear, I’ve been in the spy business for over 30 years. One does not get this far without knowing how to pleasure a woman.”

He winked at her.

“Not to worry, you’ll get there.”

He reached behind him for his coat, draped it over his arm, but not before she clearly noticed his own erection. Which before had just been a suggestion in the shadows. He’s hard!

The thought made her flame all over again.

“I need to take my leave. Will you be alright, here?”

All she could do is nod. She didn’t trust her voice yet.

Always the gentleman. He leaned over and brushed his lips against the top of her hair.

“Thank you for the lovely evening.”

She still couldn’t look directly at him so she turned her head slightly to the side and gave him a small nod. With a quick squeeze of her arm, she heard his departing footsteps. He was heading to the tunnels. He was going back into the city, He wouldn’t be staying at he manor. She didn’t know if she was glad or disappointed.

She was grateful to him for providing at least a somewhat graceful way to exit the situation, referring to the seduction technique that ALL agents are trained in. He was letting her chalk it up to a learning experience.

She opened her mouth. Nothing came out. She tried again.

“Fuck.”

It was the first word that she had said all evening.

——

“Fuck.”

Harry thought as he boarded the train back into the city. He had actually planned on staying at the manor, but with what just happened with Gwendolyn, he wasn’t sure if that would be the best course of action. It took all of his self control to remove himself from any temptation by leaving the place entirely. Making it impossible for him to act in a way that was inappropriate. Not that what had just happened would qualify as appropriate. At least it had the veil of a lesson on seduction. He wasn’t sure it would convince judges, but he found it a weak, but passable excuse.

Now, the problem for the moment was that all he could see was her face as he pleasured her. How her lips parted, and her breasts underneath her blouse, the flush of her cheeks. He wanted to hear what her cries would’ve sounded like. He wanted to be the one to make her cry out. His sex drive, always healthy, may have had a prolonged dormant period in recent times. But now it was raging like a fire that he unleashed and now he couldn’t put out. By letting the full force of it out this evening, it was fully awake and needed something to do. He had feared that if he had stayed at the manor even a moment longer, he wouldn’t have been able to help himself and would’ve taken her and had her right there.

If he could do that to her with his eyes and just the suggestion of his hands, he couldn’t imaging what it would be like pleasuring her with his entire body. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until her took care of himself, and when he did, he would allow himself the sight of her trembling, responsive, body underneath his own as he gave her the pleasure he knew she so desperately wanted, him deep inside as he felt her body shudder around him when she climaxed, feeling his own release as he heard her cry out his name in pleasure.

———

If you got this far, thanks for reading! There will be additional chapters, but I thought this could stand on its own. Hope you liked it! Comments are always welcome and appreciated.

Also to come is a chapter when they finally get together :O (Smut is the main reason I started to write about Harry Hart anyway :)

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